Out of the Night (27 page)

He swore. "I'm going back to the hotel."

"I'll go with you."

"No. I need to be alone. Let Winslow bring you back." He walked off, leaving her standing by herself.

It was some time later when she finally arrived at the hotel, carrying a small package. She'd said good night to Uncle Charles, who was on his way to the hospital to check on Dirk. Lanie would have gone with him, but she'd been worried about Mac. He hadn't been looking well lately, and she was concerned that he might be getting worse. She'd shared her concerns with Charles, and he'd suggested making a quick detour on the way to the hotel in order to make a small purchase. He'd thought it would be a good idea to offer it to Mac, although Lanie had her reservations.

Now she stood at the connecting doors, listening for movement on the other side. Hearing it, she knocked lightly and then entered when she heard him mumble.

She found him coming out of the bathroom, fully dressed but with a towel pressed to his face as if he were drying it. When he took it down, she gasped. He looked awful. His color was beyond gray, and his eyes had dark circles under them as if he'd not slept all day, though she knew that wasn't true.

"What do you want?" he snapped at her.

She gave him a saccharine-sweet smile. "My, we're in a good mood, aren't we?"

"Is there a purpose to your visit—other than to irritate me?" He leaned into the bathroom and tossed the towel on the floor.

"While it is my new life's goal to
irritate
you, I did come for another reason. You look like shit, by the way."

"Thank you."

She glanced around the room and noticed the partially eaten food sitting on the room-service tray. "Did you eat?"

"I tried."

She heard the resigned tone in his voice. "Problems?" From what she could see, the rare steak and vegetables looked like his normal fare.

"Nope. It went down almost as easily as it came back up."

She reached into the plastic bag she held, pulled out the contents, and held them out to him. "Here, maybe this will help."

He took it from her and, for a minute, his face remained expressionless. "More pig's blood?"

"No—human blood."

He stared at her, his expression hard and frigid. "And you thought, since I seem to have turned into a vampire, I might as well start drinking blood?"

"What I thought," she enunciated clearly, "is that if you got enough of the venom into your system, then maybe the reason you're feeling—and looking—like sh… so bad, is that you need blood. And knowing you found the pig's blood not to your taste, I thought maybe you'd prefer this."

"Because, of course, the monster in me needs to eat, is that right?" He tossed the bag into the bathroom, where it hit the wall and split open, blood splattering over everything. "Well, pardon me if I find that a little hard to accept right now."

Lanie gaped in shock as blood ran down the wall and onto the tiled floor. "A simple no thank you would have sufficed."

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" He took a step closer, and if he was trying to intimidate her, he'd succeeded, but she'd be damned if she'd let him know it.

"I was only trying to help."

"I think you've helped enough already," he sneered, stepping closer to her.

"Wh-what do you mean?" It took every ounce of courage not to back away from the waves of anger pulsing off him.

"What I mean is—thanks to your propensity for doing whatever the hell you want to and opening that cage door in the first place, my life, as I knew it, is over—forever. I'm
never
going to get it back."

Stunned by his accusation, she tried to open her mouth to say something, but no words would come. The truth of his statement hit her, leaving her breathless, and she barely registered that Mac's eyes were glowing dully and his fangs were bared. "I think you should leave now."

She nodded. "You're right. It
is
my fault, and if I could relive the moment and make it right, I would, but I can't. I'm sorry."

Hurrying into her room, she closed and locked the door behind her. Then she sank down onto the edge of the bed and took a deep, ragged breath as the full weight of her guilt and regret pressed in on her. He was right to hate her—she had ruined his life.

After a few minutes Lanie heard Mac leave. She wondered where he was going and then told herself that she didn't really want to know. When the phone rang moments later, she welcomed the distraction.

"Oh, hello, Uncle Charles."

"Lanie, what's wrong? You sound upset."

"No, I'm fine," she lied. "Is everything okay with Dirk?"

"Yes, he looks remarkably well for someone who practically had his throat ripped out."

"Good."

"The reason I'm calling is that I wanted to know how Mac took to our gift. Did he drink it? Did it help?"

Lanie sighed. "I'm sorry you went to the trouble you did, Uncle Charles. Not only did he not like it, he threw it against the wall. I just hope he remembers to wipe it up before the hotel kicks us out of here."

"Well, if they do, you can always stay with me. I'd be thrilled to have you."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. Any suggestions on what to do about Mac? I'm afraid he might be seriously ill."

"I'll talk to him. Is he there by chance?"

Lanie felt the hurt of Mac's anger once more. "No, he left. I don't know where he went or when he'll be back."

There was a slight pause on the other end of the phone, but if the admiral noticed the quaver in her voice, he was kind enough not to say anything about it. "I'll find him and talk to him. Why don't you try to relax tonight?"

"Thanks. I think I will."

She hung up the phone and looked around the room, feeling out of sorts. She went into the bathroom to wash her face and felt better. Thinking a cold soda might taste good, she grabbed the ice bucket to go get ice when she suddenly remembered the note she'd taken from the freezer. Setting down the bucket, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the small folded scrap of paper. She opened it and read:

D 1. yqf3 jqe3 Ooqhw 59 o3qf3. og 8w eqht3497w.

g3 dq43r7o. 28oo d9h5qd5 697 w99h. o9f3, eqe.

It took her tired brain a moment to make sense of the seemingly nonsensical characters, but then she recognized it for what it was—a game she and her father had played when she was growing up. It warmed her heart that he had remembered.

Going to the laptop, she studied the keyboard.
D 1
stood for "down one level"—it was the key to breaking the simple code. Knowing that, it didn't take long to transcribe the rest of the message by selecting the key one level below the letter or number in the message. When she finished, she read it.

Have made plans to leave. LB is dangerous. Be careful. Will contact you soon. Love, Dad.

The fact that he'd left a coded message for her told her that he'd not wanted Burton to know—which suggested to her that he wasn't a willing participant in Burton's schemes. Feeling better than she had been, she booted up her laptop and logged on to the Internet. Though she thought the chances were slim that she'd find one, she checked her e-mail in-box for a possible second message from her father. There wasn't one. Determined to not let that bother her, she continued to study the city's public records for anything that would help her locate where Burton might be hiding out.

An hour later a knock sounded on her door.

Getting up, she looked through the peephole and saw one of the hotel staff standing on the other side, an envelope in his hand.

"Yes?" she asked, opening the door.

"Lanie Weber?"

When she nodded, he handed her the envelope. "This message was called into the front desk for you a little while ago."

She thanked him and he disappeared before she could give him a tip. Curious, she tore open the envelope and inside found another message from her father—this one asking her to meet him. She grabbed her purse and ran downstairs.

"I understand you're giving the nursing staff a hard time," Mac commented, walking into Dirk's hospital room where he found his friend sitting in bed, looking very uncomfortable in a hospital gown.

"I told them I wanted out of here, and the doctors refused to discharge me. When I informed them that I intended to discharge myself, they took my clothes." Dirk glared at him. "Why would they do that, do you suppose?"

Mac smiled. "Probably because I told them to. I didn't want you to leave before I got here."

"What took you so long?"

"I had to make a quick stop at the morgue—a small matter to be seen to." When Dirk gave him a confused look, he explained. "They found Kinsley's body earlier today. He was dead—really dead, but I didn't want to take any chances, so I dropped by to stake him."

He held out the small workout bag he carried with him. "I brought you a change of clothes. Hope you weren't too attached to the old ones. I had them thrown out."

Dirk got out of bed and took the bag from him. He pulled out his TV and wasted no time ripping off the hospital gown to change clothes. Mac watched, amazed, wondering if his friend was even aware that he was moving unusually fast. It seemed the chupacabra venom had affected him, too, and Mac felt an odd sense of camaraderie—he was no longer the only one like this.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I feel fine. Everyone around here is acting like I almost died, even though I keep telling them it was only a scratch." He touched his neck where the bandages covered his wounds.

"You really believe that?"

He looked at Mac, and for a moment, Mac thought he'd deny the truth, but Dirk was stronger than that. "No."

Mac nodded. "Believe me, I understand what you're going through—probably better than anyone."

Dirk sat on the guest chair across the room to put on his new shoes and socks. He didn't say anything until he'd finished, then the look he gave Mac was one of resigned acceptance. "So, I'm going to be like you?"

Mac merely cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "Not
going to be
, you
already are
."

Dirk seemed to digest that, then slapped his hands on his knees as he stood up. "Okay—what now?"

Mac held out the Against Medical Advice papers. "Sign these so I can get you out of here, and then let's go talk to Winslow. He said he came by earlier."

"Yeah. He wanted to see how I was doing and offered to let me stay at his place."

"Good, I think you should."

They walked out of the room, stopping off at the nurses' station where Dirk turned in his self-discharge papers.

"What about you?" he asked as they walked toward the elevators that would take them to the first floor. "Winslow said he offered his place to you and Lanie as well."

"I don't know. I didn't get a chance to talk to her about it."

There must have been something in his tone because Dirk gave him an inquisitive look. "Trouble in paradise?"

Mac didn't feel like discussing it, yet found himself doing just that. "We had a fight." At Dirk's raised eyebrow, he went on. "She thought I wasn't looking well and brought me human blood to drink, thinking it might help." Even now, his stomach revolted at the memory.