The Vampire's Betrayal (17 page)

I felt Connie’s heartbeat as the blood flowed into my mouth. I sucked at the artery, wishing it to be over so I could crawl away somewhere and die like I deserved to. But then I felt something else.

Another heartbeat.

I stopped, sealing the wounds on Connie’s neck with my saliva, and tried to think of what could account for what I had felt.

William told me once that I was special, that I had powers and gifts I hadn’t discovered yet, ones even he didn’t understand. I’d always had powers of communication with the dead. I could feel them as I walked close to their resting places. If I was supersensitive to death, could I also be hyperaware of life?

I looked at Connie’s sleeping form as I cradled her in my arms. The bloom of life still blushed her cheeks. I held her close to me and pressed my ear to her chest, hearing the steady if weak
lub-dub
of her heart.

Then I moved my head so that my ear was against her abdomen. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate the power of my vampiric senses into my hearing. There it was. A tiny heartbeat. Connie was carrying a child.

My child.

Eleven

William

I arose early the following night and went to my desk to catch up with correspondence and other business matters that had piled up during my recent absence. The evening before, the other vampires and I had returned to the mansion in the wee hours—they from Werm’s club and I from my tryst with Ginger. We smoked the Cuban cigars Iban had brought and sipped a fine brandy while listening to Travis’s tales of fighting Cortés and the other conquistadors. His deep voice and the gentle cadence of his speech were so soothing, it was almost possible to forget what poor Jack was going through.

His plight still weighed on me this evening, and I wished to occupy my mind to keep from thinking about him and the sad task he’d had to undertake the night before.

I had chosen to stay out of his private affairs over the years, but now I wished I had warned him more strongly against becoming involved with human women. But then, I’d failed to heed that advice myself and paid the price with my peace of mind and my everlasting sorrow.

Despite the fact that Jack could block me from reading his thoughts and emotions directly, he could not always hide his emotions from me when he was in my presence, especially when those emotions were strong. The night he had come back from the underworld, when I first told him he must prepare himself to kill Connie, I knew he hadn’t accepted it. I could see it in his face. Jack always thought he could finesse his way out of a bad situation, and many times he could, especially when that situation involved human beings.

But last night Jack had realized that his charm and cleverness were useless against the dire circumstances we found ourselves in. I could tell the instant when he understood that there was no getting around the fact that he had to kill his lady love. The life, for lack of a better term, had gone out of him as clearly and visibly as the mortal verve dies at the point of a fang.

The administrative tasks before me were mere workaday trivialities, but I hoped they would distract me from my morose thoughts. As I sifted through the papers, I could not muster any enthusiasm for my labors.

Melaphia appeared in the vault, bearing a carafe of warm blood and several cups on a tray. “Your guests aren’t up yet, I see.”

“I suppose they’re jet-lagged,” I remarked. “They’re not used to the sun setting until three hours from now.”

“Let me pour you some breakfast while you wait for them.”

“Thank you, my dear, but I’m not hungry.”

Melaphia set the tray down on the edge of my huge desk and came to stand behind me. Rubbing my shoulders, she said, “It’s a sad night.”

“Indeed it is.”

“I’ve started my preparations for approaching both Maman Lalee and the gods about keeping the Portal from the underworld closed to the double-deads,” she said. “I’ve sent for the appropriate potions and offerings. I’m still going over the texts and making lists of things I should include in the spells. Deylaud is helping, of course.”

“Good. Is he still grieving for Eleanor?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so, but keeping him busy is helping.” With a final squeeze of my shoulders, she sat down in the leather wing chair opposite the desk.

“How are
you
doing?”

I shrugged. “I may eventually get over her absence, I suppose. But it’s difficult to know how much suffering I’ve caused her.”

“But William, there was nothing you could have done differently.”

“Not once she was out of control, no. I’m just sorry I let her persuade me to make her a blood drinker in the first place. But let’s not speak of it again. I don’t want to saddle you with any more of my burdens.” By way of changing the subject, I asked, “So how goes the general research into the nature of the Slayer?”

“I confirmed what Travis and the European legends say about the fact that the Slayer is half-human and half-vampire. In the eyes of the Maya, that elevated her to a goddess. I think I’ve found some passages that may shed more light on what we’re dealing with, if I can interpret them correctly. I’m on my way to my little altars in the passageway to say my prayers for guidance now.” She paused a moment, and then said, “It’s still strange to think of a vampire fathering a half-human child. It goes against every law of nature.”

I sighed, feeling each one of my five-hundred-odd years. “True,” I agreed. “But when it comes to nature, I believe what Hamlet said to Horatio applies.”

Melaphia raised a slender brow. “There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

“Heaven, earth, and the underworld,” I added. “I hope that in the fullness of time when you reach heaven you will know all and understand all.”

“That would be a blessing,” she said. She began to speak again, but held her tongue. I sensed that she had been about to wish me the same good fortune.

But we both knew heaven wasn’t where I was headed.

Before Melaphia disappeared around the corner to the little altars that lined the passageway to the vault, I said, “Don’t forget to get your sleep.”

“I’ll be burning the midnight oil translating that text about the Slayer. It may tell us something important.”

I drummed my fingers on the desk. “Very well, but don’t exhaust yourself. You’ve been through a series of devastating shocks of late. I don’t want you to fall ill…again.”

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll be fine.”

I smiled as she left the main room of the vault for the recesses of the stairway and tried to concentrate on the paperwork.

As a first order of business, I called Mr. Murphy, the manager of my antique store. When I inquired about the sword, he became quite flustered.

“Oh, my goodness, Mr. Thorne, I thought that you had taken it. I know you’ve displayed it in your home from time to time. So when it disappeared—”

“Disappeared? You mean you didn’t sell it? When did you notice it missing?” I demanded, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

“It—it disappeared a couple of days ago. I questioned all the help. Nobody sold it and nobody saw anyone take it. One day it was just…gone.”

“Question them again,” I said.

“Should I call the police?”

I thought about that a moment. There was something troubling about the sword’s disappearance besides the fact that it was a personal favorite of mine. Some disturbing grain of suspicion irritated my consciousness. “No. After you talk to the staff, go through the receipts for recent purchases and see if anything gives you pause. If not, wait for my further instructions.”

As I hung up the phone, I became aware of a mixture of aromas—cinnamon, vanilla bean, and rum—that brought back memories from the night I had first met Lalee. She was standing among a dozen graves, freshly dug for the victims of a yellow fever epidemic. It was midnight, and she was beautiful, glowing with an inner light. Her skin was golden brown and her eyes were like onyx. Her long hair shimmered like strands of jet beads in the moonlight.

She knew me for what I truly was, and yet she was unafraid. In fact, she might have summoned me there. Afterward I was never sure how I got to those graves. Even if I’d wanted to harm her, I couldn’t have. I was powerless in the face of her faith in her spirits and charms. She’d come to the grave sites that night to wing penitent sinners to heaven or whisper a dirge to transport the damned quickly to hell. Such was the grandeur of her power, and I was awestruck by it.

We’d made a bargain that night. I would never-more kill a human being out of hunger, in temper, in pity, or for diversion. If I killed, it would only be for justice. And for that, she would give me the gift of the voodoo blood to strengthen me and my offspring, should I ever choose to make them. The young United States of America was barely past its colonial period; it was long before I met Jack McShane on that Civil War battlefield.

I had broken my promise of late, having flown into a rage upon seeing my wife in thrall to another blood drinker. I took my rage out on a number of defenseless mortals and killed out of anger as I had in the old days.

Later I tried to contact Lalee through prayers and offerings, seeking her forgiveness for breaking our bargain. My pleas went unanswered. I was left with only the unwavering suspicion that my broken bond could spell my doom. I told none of this to Jack, and especially not to Melaphia, but the feeling was growing stronger and stronger that my own downfall might be at hand.

I shivered. Clearly, while I had not been successful in manifesting Maman Lalee, Melaphia’s efforts were bearing fruit. I could not only smell the fragrance of the great woman, I could sense her nearness as well. I rose to join Melaphia, hoping to bask in Lalee’s aura.

Time seemed to expand as I felt myself coming closer to the lady. When I rounded the corner, I saw a ghostly form, swathed in a flowing gossamer robe, the unmistakable likeness of a very agitated Lalee.

“I heard you have spoke to de trickster,” she said.

“I should have tole you not to pray to him, no. He is not your spirit guide. Did I not say it to you long ago? He is de guide of de blue-eyed blood drinker, not you. That handsome boy can see through de trickster’s lies without he even try, but ’tis not in your nature to do so, gentle one. You are gullible. You are de light.”

It was exceedingly rare for the Maman to appear in her true form. When she blessed us with her presence, her voice issued from a chosen one. Once and only once it was Jack. I knew that she favored him with her love, sensing the goodness in him.

“Dat
loa
has led you astray wid de lies and half-truths. Why you want believe him? You he would fool with his tricks just to make himself laugh. What did you ask him exactly?”

“I—I don’t remember…”

“You must take care when consulting de
loas.
You must choose your words careful or he will twist dem to suit his mischievous ways. Dis you know already, but you got careless in your fear. He made you tink it was righteous to send dis vampire to slay de Slayer. It was a trick, yes. No one must kill de slayer of blood drinkers. She is sired of greatness and carries greatness within her.”

Melaphia’s eyes went wide. “Should the blood drinkers not fear her then?”

Lalee shimmered, becoming more transparent and insubstantial. “By de gods, dey should fear her power indeed!” she said.

Even though I could barely make out her features, I could swear she looked directly at me. Ordinarily I would be thrilled to make eye contact with the demigoddess once more, but this time, something indecipherable in her gaze shook me and made me want to turn away, but I did not.

I started to speak—to thank her for helping Melaphia save Renee in the bowels of London so that I could bring her home safely. I wanted to apologize and beg her forgiveness for breaking the oath I had made to her. I tried to form the words to ask her to guide us in our current dilemmas. But I was frozen in place as she began to disappear.

“Wait!” shouted Melaphia. “We need your advice! What can we do to stop the old lords? They are ready to open the portal to the underworld so the worst of their demons can prey on us. What should we do to stop them?”

“I do not have power over de kind of elemental forces dat it will take to free de basest demons, no,” Lalee said, her voice becoming fainter. “And I do not have dominion over de ones most damned. You must beseech de most powerful beings in de heavens, and even dey may not be able to help you. May de gods have mercy o’er de souls of you all who I love.”

In an instant the apparition was gone, and Melaphia and I looked at each other too shocked to move for a moment. We both knew that Lalee would not be back. “Quickly!” Melaphia shouted. “We’ve got to stop Jack before it’s too late!”

“If it’s not too late already,” I said. I ran to my desk to call Jack on his cell phone. The other vampires, who had been in the process of rousing anyway, were startled fully awake by our shouting. They emerged from their coffins demanding to know what was happening. I dialed the phone while they peppered me with questions.

“Jack!” Melaphia shouted. I turned around to see him descending the stairs, and we all ran to him.

Jack

“Jack, please tell us you didn’t do it!” Melaphia cried while grabbing the lapels of my jacket.

“No, I didn’t do it,” I said. “I couldn’t kill her. I—”

“Thank God,” William said.

“Why wasn’t Jack supposed to kill the Slayer?” Tobey asked.

Iban and Travis exchanged worried glances.

Melaphia slumped against my chest. Her breath was coming fast and in hitches. She seemed to be on the verge of breaking into laughter. Not the good kind, but the hysterical kind you go into when you almost step off a cliff into thin air and something stops you. I knew how she felt.

“Lalee just appeared to William and me. She said the
loa
Legba tricked me when he made me think you were supposed to kill Connie.”

The relief I felt was indescribable. Not only did I not have to kill Connie, but I didn’t have to worry about any of my friends killing her either. I hugged Melaphia and kissed her on top of the head like I did when she was small.
Thank you, sweet Maman.