Vamparazzi (34 page)

Leischneudel and I shook our heads. Daemon went back into his room and closed the door.

Without missing a beat, Thack said to Leischneudel, “I understand you're seeking representation?”

“Um, yes,” Leischneudel said, obviously surprised that Thack was raising the subject after today's performance. “I am.”

“Why don't you two talk while I change?” I suggested. “And Leischneudel can explain what happened out there today. That wasn't really our show. It was more like a crazed nightmare of our show.”

They went into Leischneudel's dressing room. I went down the hall to my room, where I found Rachel raging into her cell phone about the performance while undressing and removing her makeup. I opened the champagne, then drank some of the lukewarm liquid straight from the bottle. I changed into my street clothes, cleaned off my makeup, and applied a fresh layer of antibiotic ointment to my cheek, pausing often to take more swigs from the champagne bottle. When Rachel left, still yammering into her phone, I sank into a chair and enjoyed the blessed silence as I drank warm bubbly.

I felt exhausted and in pain. Also overwhelmed, all things considered. I really wished we didn't have to do a show tomorrow. However, although most theaters were dark on Monday nights, the performance schedule for our eight-week run had been based on Daemon's schedule—and he'd had two longstanding commitments for public appearances on Tuesdays, related to his work for Nocturne. So our weekly day off on this show was Tuesday. At the moment that seemed very far away.

There was a knock at my door.

“Come in,” I said wearily.

Max and Nelli entered the room. I blinked in surprise, having forgotten about them during the course of that disastrous performance.

“Welcome back,” I said, as Max took a seat and Nelli lay down with a little sigh. I offered Max some tepid champagne, which he declined. I set aside the bottle as I asked, “Did you find any vampires out there?”

Max shook his head. “We encountered some interesting individuals. Also some rather alarming ones. As well as many friendly, er, vampire enthusiasts. I also spoke with a number of people who are very disturbed by the recent murder. But we did not discover any vampires. Or, rather, Nelli showed no unusual reaction to any of the hundreds of people we encountered. Well, apart from the ones who offered her food, obviously.” He frowned. “Our lack of results could be because there wasn't a vampire out there.”

Nelli sneezed twice and gave a little groan.

I looked at her with concern as I rose to pack my tote bag so we could leave. “Has she been doing that all evening?”

“No, she was fine outside.” He reached down to stroke Nelli's head soothingly. “However, it also may be that, despite her sensitivity to certain phenomena, Nelli cannot actually recognize a made or hereditary vampire.”

“Why are you trying to identify a made or hereditary vampire?” Thack asked sharply from the doorway.

We both flinched in surprise and turned to look at him. He was eyeing Max warily.

I said, “Er, we just, uh . . .”

Max studied Thack curiously. “We are concerned about the recent murders by exsanguination.”

“Murders?”
Thack said. “As in, plural?”

“Yes.”

Thack frowned. “There was only one in the news.”

“Max,” I cautioned. What Lopez had told me about the other murders was confidential.

Still holding Thack's gaze, Max held up a hand to silence me. “There have been at least two others. Possibly three.”

Thack entered the room and closed the door. “How do you know about this, given that it's not in the news?”

Nelli sneezed. I patted her head as she wheezed a little.

“I think a vampire may be responsible,” Max said slowly. “What do you think, Mr. . . ?”

“This is my agent, Thackeray Shackleton.” I gestured to Max, wondering just how crazy he must sound to Thack. “Dr. Maximillian Zadok.”

“Let me make sure I understand you,” Thack said. “At least three recent murder victims—possibly four—have been exsanguinated, and you think a vampire is responsible?”

“Yes,” said Max.

“Hey, Thack,” I said. “After a performance like that, you probably just want to get out of here right away, and—”

“Does it mean anything to you, Dr. Zadok,” Thack said slowly, his gaze still locked with Max's, “when I tell you that I'm . . . Lithuanian?”

I
gasped and leaped backward, gaping at Thack. Nelli looked at me with mild curiosity.

Max made an elaborate gesture with his hands and said something in Latin.

“Oh, please don't bother with all that, Dr. Zadok.” Thack took a seat as he waved his hand dismissively. “I'm not at
all
traditional—much to my family's dismay, I might add.”

“Oh?” Max paused midgesture.

“No ritual greeting,” Thack said. “I beg you.”

“As you wish.” Max asked, “Have you come here to deal with this matter?”

“God, no.” Thack grimaced. “I came here because a client of whom I am very fond had a fit of insecurity and insisted I sit through this dreadful play.”

“Thack!”

“I
told
you how I felt about this sort of thing,” he said to me. “I loathe these revolting vampire stereotypes! Even so, I never suspected just how awful Daemon Ravel would be in his role. Leischneudel has explained why—sort of—but that's no excuse. The people who paid four hundred dollars to see Ravel's performance today must be feeling positively suicidal after sitting through it.”

“That's what the scalpers are getting now?” I said in astonishment. “Four hundred dollars?”

“Never underestimate the commercial power of having your lead actor charged with murder,” Thack said dryly.

“He hasn't been charged yet,” I pointed out.

“After that performance,” Thack said, “he certainly
ought
to be.”

Nelli sneezed twice more, then she laid down on her side with a weary moan. Her eyes looked a little bloodshot.

Thack glanced at her. “Your . . . small horse seems to be ill.”

“I think she's allergic to something in the theater,” I said.

“And what happened to your
face?
” Thack asked, studying my colorful injuries with appalled concern, now that my heavy stage makeup had been removed. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. I'll explain later.” I pulled myself together and stared at my agent in amazement. “Thack! You're a . . . a . . .” Though we were alone and behind a closed door, I lowered my voice. “A vampire?”

“
Not
a practicing one.” He said to Max, “Since I get the impression you know something about these matters, Dr. Zadok—”

“Please call me Max.”

“—let me state clearly that I lead a fully integrated life here in New York. I gladly shed all that Lithuanian business when I left home, and I am not equipped to deal with whatever may be happening here.”

“What do you mean, ‘not practicing'?” I demanded.

“Don't give me attitude, Esther. I happen to know that you only go to Temple twice a year—and only
then
if your mother nags you.”

“You're saying it's voluntary?” I asked. “You can
choose
whether or not to be a vampire?”

“No, alas,” Thack said. “Like being Jewish, it's something decided by birth. But
you
can at least convert. I, on the other hand, am stuck with being a vampire until I die.”

“If I converted, my mother would die,” I said. “Noisily.”

“However, I can choose whether or not I
practice
vampirism,” Thack said. “And like you, darling, I choose not to practice unless my family nags me enough on special occasions.”

“Vampires have special occasions?” I blurted.

Thack seemed a little miffed by my question. “Everyone else has special occasions. You don't think
we're
entitled?”

“And on these special occasions you . . .”

“Drink human blood? Yes.” Seeing my reaction, he sighed and said to Max, “You see? This is exactly why I never tell anyone about my family background.”

“Shackleton is not a Lithuanian name,” Max noted.

“As I said, I left all that behind me when I left Wisconsin.”

“There are vampires in Wisconsin?” I gasped. “
I'm
from Wisconsin!”

Still lying on her side, Nelli wheezed a little. We all looked at her.

Then Thack said, “I legally changed my name when I came here. William Makepeace Thackeray and Sir Ernest Shackleton are two of my heroes. Isn't New York the place to reinvent oneself? I wanted to live unfettered by all that ... vampire stuff. It is so not
me
.”

“I always thought Thackeray Shackleton couldn't be your real name,” I admitted.

“It
is
my real name,” he said firmly. “Just not my given one.”

“Well, you and Daemon Ravel certainly have something in common.”

“Oh,
please,
” Thack said in disgust. “If he's a vampire, then I'm Eleanor Roosevelt.”

“Actually, I meant the name thing.” I explained briefly about that. Then I noted, “You seem positive he's not a vampire. Can you sense other vampires? Can they sense you?”

He gave me an exasperated look. “No. And we don't wear secret code rings or special badges, either, Esther.”

“I was only asking.”

“But no way is Ravel a vampire! We do
not
call attention to ourselves—let alone alert the media,” Thack said. “Even the most orthodox vampires keep a very low profile. It's how my family, for example, have survived for centuries as practicing vampires—including my two little nephews, whom my brother is raising traditionally, back in Wisconsin.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “Your family is originally from Lithuania?”

“Yes.”

“So
vampires
immigrated here?”

“Is that a problem?” He looked insulted. “Everyone else gets to immigrate and pursue the American dream, but vampires should be kept out of the country?”

“Well . . .”

“This is why—this is
exactly
why!—I never talk about my background.”

“I didn't mean to offend you,” I said. “I'm just a little . . . never mind.”

“Hmph.” He frowned. “What were we just talking about?”

“Daemon Ravel.”

“Oh, yes. What a ridiculous name,” Thack sneered, blissfully unaware of the irony of his criticism. “But it certainly goes with his absurd pretensions.”

“I agree he's absurd,” I said. “But I don't believe he's the killer.”

Thack said to Max, “You really think a vampire is the guilty party?”

“Having had time since this afternoon to contemplate our scant information, yes, I am inclined to think so,” Max said.

“Where are you getting this scant information?” Thack asked curiously.

“A confidential source on the police force,” I said.

“The same one whom Daemon Ravel's own personal tabloid menace is using?”

“No,” I said with certainty.

“If this is vampire business, then what's your involvement?” Thack asked Max. “Zadok isn't a Lithuanian name, either.”

“I am the local representative of the Magnum Collegium.”

“Which means?”

“I deal with mystical problems.”

Thack nodded. “Ah, that makes sense.”

“Really?” I blurted.

Both men looked at me.

“Never mind.”

“I also used to be a vampire hunter,” Max said.

“But you're not a vampire?” When Max shook his head, Thack whistled, evidently impressed. Then he frowned and asked, “Is that even allowed?”

“Not anymore,” Max said. “Based on my experiences, though, I am convinced that the killer is not undead.”

Thack nodded. “Although I wasn't very attentive to my grandfather's teachings about these things, I think you must be right, Max. An undead monster would be noticed before long. They're not exactly stealthy, I gather.”

“Moreover, an undead creature would inadvertently create more undead, at least in some instances. Which would also not go unnoticed,” Max said. “I believe the murderer is a living vampire.”

“Living vampires don't infect their victims with vampirism?” I asked.

Max shook his head. “The living create another vampire only by sharing their blood. When they prey upon people, the victims stay dead.”

“Do you think the killer is an illegal made vampire?” Thack let out his breath in a rush. “That's a scary thought. Aren't they dangerously unstable?”

“They can be,” Max said.

Nelli gave a little groan of discomfort.

“When you say ‘illegal,' you mean not authorized by the Council of Gediminas?” I guessed, absently patting the dog's side as she lay by my feet.

“Yes,” said Thack. “I've heard that getting a permit from the council to make a vampire is slightly harder than getting a papal dispensation from the Vatican. So if he is made, he's probably illegal.”

“He?” I prodded.

“Legal or illegal, the vampire would have to be male,” Max explained.

“Wait a
minute,
” I said. “Are you telling me that in addition to hereditary vampirism being strictly a male gig,
only
males can become made? That is so unfair!”