Need (8 page)

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Authors: Todd Gregory

BOOK: Need
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“Don't be such a misogynistic asshole,” she growled at me, interrupting my thoughts. “I might be female, but I can tear you to little pieces, understood?”
“I'm sorry,” I mumbled.
She sighed. “It's okay. Well, no, it's not okay.” She gave me a brittle smile. “You need to work on it. I get it—you were raised that way, but you need to remember women are just as good as men. And when it comes to vampires, gender doesn't matter. It's age that matters and the strength of the heart.” She shook her head. “Jean-Paul really didn't teach you a goddamned thing, did he?”
We walked up my front steps. I unlocked the front door, but she pushed me aside and strode across the front room to the locked double doors. She turned and looked at me, placing both of her hands on the faded wood. “Fortunately, not only is he still here, but also he still sleeps. He's restless—which is not a good sign for a conversion—but he sleeps.” She crossed her arms and began tapping her right foot. “And fortunately, if anyone else sensed him there besides me, they didn't do anything before I put up the guards.” She gave me a sad little look. “You really don't know what I'm talking about, do you?”
I sat down on the couch and glowered back at her. “Yeah, I'm just a complete idiot,” I snapped as I kicked off my shoes. “It's a wonder I'm even still alive.”
“Truly, you have no idea how right you actually are.” She walked over and sat down next to me. “But it really isn't your fault, you know.” She nudged me with her elbow. “It's really Jean-Paul's. He was incredibly irresponsible—as always.” She shook her head. “And now we have to clean up his mess. As always.”
“You know Jean-Paul?”
“You really don't know anything, do you?” She stared at me. “It's really unforgivable. And he let you loose, out from under his protection.” She got up and walked over to the front windows and looked out through the curtains. “I understand why he did what he did originally—on an emotional level, that is. But on an intellectual level, and certainly on a political one, it was a huge mistake.” She faced me again. “The Council wants you dead, you know.” She gestured toward the locked double doors. “And when they find out about that”—she shook her head again—“you're almost certainly going to be executed.”
Executed?
My head was spinning. “What Council? Why would they want me dead?”
Her voice was sympathetic. “I'm sorry. I forget you don't know. Anything.” She sighed. “Jean-Paul was so completely negligent. Criminally so. If anyone should be executed, it's him.” Her eyes flashed. “This certainly isn't the first time he's done something so incredibly stupid. It's a pattern with him—and yet, they never do anything other than reprimand him.” She crossed the room and sat down next to me again. She cupped my chin in her left hand. “You are a pretty boy, of course, which clearly is why he did what he did with you. It's not your fault, of course, but the Council doesn't care about things like that—their only concern is protecting our kind, and you're a danger.” She looked back over her shoulder at the double doors again. “And if you're going to run around letting humans drink your blood—that's just going to make it that much easier for them to authorize your death sentence. You can't just create a new vampire every time you panic, you know.” She took a deep breath and held out her hand. “My name is Rachel, and I'm here to help you—whether you want it or not.”
I swallowed and took her hand. It was small and cold, but her grip was strong. “Thanks.” My head was racing, trying to digest what she'd said and what it meant, what it might mean, for me. “Can you help me with Jared?”
She shook her head. “I don't know. He might have to be destroyed.”
I goggled at her, unable to speak.
Destroyed?
“Oh, come on, don't act so shocked. You thought it yourself when you walked out of that bar—that you might have to kill him.” She smiled and patted my hand. “You need to learn how to close your mind so that other vampires can't read it.”
I nodded, biting my lower lip.
“As for destroying him, I hope it won't come to that, Cord, really I do. But you have to be tried, you know.” She moaned and slammed her fist down on the arm of the sofa. “No, of course you don't know.” She looked away from me. “The Council is comprised of thirteen vampires. Every continent has a Council, and their word is law over vampires. They don't usually involve themselves in individual affairs.” She looked at me. “Jean-Paul never mentioned the Council? Did he ever say anything about the Nightwatchers?”
“The Nightwatchers?” I shook my head. “No, he didn't. What are the Nightwatchers?”
“Of course he didn't.” She slammed her fist down again and took a moment to compose herself. “Jean-Paul really is the one who should be destroyed. Or sent back to Europe—let them deal with his stupidities. That's where he belongs, anyway.” She smiled at me. “I'm sorry if it seems as though I am taking my anger with Jean-Paul out on you—he just makes me so angry.” She sighed again. “All right, let me try to explain this to you.”
There was, she explained, a Council of thirteen older vampires on every continent—and it was their job, as assigned by the Nightwatchers (“I'll explain them to you later,” she told me), to police the vampires under their jurisdiction and make sure they followed the rules. The rules have been in place for centuries—
millennia,
actually—and their purpose was to protect vampires from exposure. “Because we frighten humans, and it's been the goal of their religions to destroy us from the very beginning.” Vampires who break the rules are called before the Council and tried, with no chance of appealing their decisions.
“But what are the rules?” I asked, confused but fascinated at the same time. “How am I supposed to know the rules if no one told me what they are?”
“It's your maker's role to explain everything to you,” Rachel replied. “Now do you understand why Jean-Paul makes me so angry?” She ran her hands through her hair. “The first ten years of a vampire's life are crucial. They should never be allowed out of their maker's sight. You're very weak at this point, Cord. You haven't come into your own as a vampire yet. It's no different than expecting a human baby to feed and take care of itself in the first year of its life. You aren't strong enough. You don't have your strength yet. You are easy prey for those who hunt us.” She gestured in the direction of the ruined house across the street. “Before you even finished converting, you were easy prey for the witch Sebastian, weren't you? Had Jean-Paul not come to your rescue, Sebastian would have achieved his foul purpose. Vampire blood—even that of a baby like yourself—is powerful. Had Sebastian succeeded, he would have achieved immortality and eventually would have had the strength of a vampire along with the powers of a witch.” She shook her head. “And as much as we would like to believe a powerful creature would work for the well-being of the humans, I tend to think he would have been a monster. And we would have had to destroy him.” She gave me a terrible smile. “Many vampires could have been killed.”
“So why hasn't anything been done about Jean-Paul?” I asked, worried. I was angry with him, yes, but that didn't mean I wanted him dead.
“The Council has been occupied by other things,” she replied. “Which is why the Nightwatchers are becoming involved. Which is why I am here.”
“Are you a Nightwatcher, whatever that is?” I asked. I thought I heard movement from behind the locked doors.
She heard it, too, and crossed the room so quickly I didn't see her move. One moment she was by the window, the next she was in front of the doors.
She was right. Much as I hated the sound of it, much as I'd resented it when Jean-Paul had called me that, I was a baby. I couldn't move that quickly. I couldn't read minds unless I was connected to the other person's life force. I couldn't fly.
I was more than human, but I was less than vampire.
I got up and gave her a sardonic smile as I turned the key in the lock and rolled the pocket doors open.
Jared was sitting up on the bed, still naked.
“What's going on?” He was disoriented, his voice groggy from sleep. “What's wrong with me?” He looked from me to her and back again. “Cord? You're alive . . .” He shook his head. “I thought you were dead. . . .”
Rachel sat down on the side of the bed and started stroking his head. “It's all right, Jared. You're just feeling a little under the weather is all,” she said, the timbre of her voice dropping a bit. She was mesmerizing him—another vampire skill I didn't yet have. I'd seen Jean-Paul and the others use it from time to time, and they always assured me that I'd learn it in time. “Hush, now, you just lie down and go back to sleep, okay? You just need to rest.”
He murmured a bit, his eyes drooping, and he slid back down, curling up into a ball on his side. In just a matter of moments, his chest was rising and falling again in the steady breath pattern of sleep.
Rachel stood up and glared at me. She stalked back into the front room. I started to close the pocket doors, but she stopped me. “There's no point,” she replied. “If he wants to hear us, the doors won't stop him, nor will the lock hold him if he wants out.” She looked grim. “He's converting, but it's much worse than I feared, than I sensed.” She shivered and grabbed a pack of Pall Malls out of her purse. She lit one and took a long drag. She blew the smoke out and started pacing. “There's a reason why his wounds won't close,” she said, still pacing. “You never should have fed from him.”
“I know that,” I replied, irritated. “It was a mistake—”
“It's even bigger than you think,” she cut me off, flicking ash on the hardwood floor without a care. Jean-Paul would have a stroke if he saw it. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She ran her other hand through her hair. “I don't know how to break a curse, or if it's even possible. This is out of my league.”
“Curse?” I stood up. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She stopped pacing and ground the cigarette out under her shoe. She turned and faced the front door. “He's almost here, thank heaven.” She plopped down into a wingback chair and sprawled across it, swinging her feet over one of the arms. She smiled at me. “This is a lot to take in, I know.” Her tone was kind, which was rather a surprise. “I know I've been a bit of a bitch to you, and I'm sorry. I'm worried, is all, but Nigel's almost here and—”
“Nigel?”
“My master.”
“Master?”
“You really don't know anything, do you?” She sighed. “My creator. He turned me into a vampire. Jean-Paul is your master.”
“I don't know that I like the sound of that.”
“That's because you were created by a lazy, indolent idiot who doesn't take his responsibility to his creations seriously,” she snapped. “Making a new vampire is a responsibility that shouldn't be taken lightly. Jean-Paul . . . he only makes vampires out of men he wants to fuck, at the risk of sounding crude.”
Even though I knew what she said to be true, I still felt the urge to defend him. I fought it down and said nothing.
“I'm sorry, Cord, but it's true,” she said softly. “And you know it's true.”
I nodded, feeling the sadness and desolation roll over me again like a wave. “I know,” I whispered. “It's why I left.”
In a blink, she was sitting beside me on the couch, holding my hand in her cold ones. “I know.” She kissed the side of my head. “I know it hurts.” She swallowed, and stroked the top of my head. “I know how hard it is to cope with such a thing.”
Everything I'd been holding inside since I left Palm Springs came rushing out of me in one fell swoop.
I'd been so stupid to think Jean-Paul cared about me. All I had been to him was a piece of ass, a pretty boy one of his coven had seen on the streets of New Orleans and taken to meet the master on the dance floor. He'd seen me, and I'd been a plaything for him, nothing more—someone to introduce to the pleasures of man-on-man sex. Was it my virginity that had struck his fancy or my deeply religious upbringing? All he wanted was a young man—it didn't matter which one—and when he tired of me, when I stopped amusing him, he'd started looking for other young boys. I'd first realized it at the party in Miami, and the pattern had continued after that as we traveled far and wide, to the Black and Blue Ball in Toronto, to Cherries in Washington, DC, and finally Easter in Palm Springs—when I'd finally rebelled. I'd told myself for months that he'd turned
me,
that all he wanted from the others was to fuck them and drink from them, but he'd made me one of them so that I could be with him forever.
Forever didn't last long in Jean-Paul's mind.
“He never told you why he turned you?” she asked me in a whisper. She had her arms around me, my head down on her shoulder as my tears flowed and my body shook with my heartbroken sobs.

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