Vamparazzi (36 page)

Behind me, I could hear Thack explaining the situation to his uncle. Nelli sneezed a couple of times. Max promised her they'd leave here momentarily.

“And that
performance
.” A tall man, Daemon lowered his head to confide in me. I noticed that his breath stank of whiskey, not Nocturne. “
God.
I think my career could be over after that.”

Since I was still aromatic with liniment and ointment, his irritated eyes started watering as soon as he got that close to me. I noticed that his pink nose was running and quivering, too. I took a couple of steps back, not wanting the romantic prince of the night to sneeze on me again.

“Well, we certainly shouldn't do it twice, but everybody has a disastrous performance once in a while. That's live theater.” I shrugged. “It goes with the territory.”

I could afford to be philosophical about it since, through no fault of mine, today's show had been a dismal flop well before I inadvertently triggered Daemon's allergies—and then, at least, we woke up the bored audience.

“The police think I killed her, too,” Daemon said sadly. “But you don't think that, do you?”

“Not really. Is Victor still here? He should probably help you get home. You seem a little—”

“Hey, there are visitors in your room!” Daemon said, cheering up. “Introduce me.”

“No, you've already met—”

Daemon sneezed messily as he shoved his way past me and entered my dressing room. He greeted Max and spoke earnestly to Thack, evidently not noticing that the agent was on the phone. Then Daemon sat down near Nelli—and sneezed again. As he wiped his nose with his black silk sleeve, I recalled that the dog was another of his allergies.

Thack gave me an exasperated look. I shrugged and spread my hands, indicating that I had
tried
to get rid of our unwelcome visitor.

Daemon launched into a long, rambling monologue about how misunderstood (and also how wonderful, caring, and special) he was, punctuated by sneezes and sniffles, while Nelli lay nearby, occasionally wheezing. Max and I ignored Daemon and waited for Thack to finish his call. He stood with his back turned to everyone and was talking in a low voice.

When he was done, he turned to face us, started to speak, then gave Daemon a doubtful stare.

The actor broke the expectant silence. “I need to go out somewhere. I feel suffocated here.”

“That's because you apparently can't breathe,” Thack noted, eyeing Daemon's red-rimmed eyes and runny nose.

“Hey, we should
all
go out together!” Daemon exclaimed. “Wanna go out somewhere?”

Seeing a chance to get rid of him, I said, “Good idea. Go get ready.”

“I'll tell Victor to have the brought car round.” He paused, evidently realizing that hadn't come out quite right. “To have the round car br . . .”

“Yeah, I get it.” I hauled him out of his chair and steered him toward to the door. “Go do that.”

As soon as he was gone, I turned back to Thack. “Well?”

“My uncle will call Vilnius right away. It's some ungodly hour early tomorrow morning there, I guess. But there's an emergency number that's answered around the clock, for obvious reasons. He'll get back to me later, after he talks to them.” Thack continued, “Uncle Peter agrees it sounds like there should be a vampire hunter on the scene. He says that an exsanguination murder is bad enough, but now that it's tabloid fodder—well, the council will be shitting kittens.”

“And there's an image I don't want in
my
head,” I said.

“He also said, Max, that you need to back away from this and go home,” Thack said apologetically. “Something about the Treaty of Gediminas? He said that since you're in the Magnum Collegium, you'd know what the means.”

Max sighed deeply. His expression was troubled, but he nodded his head. “Yes. Of course. I understand.”

“
I
don't,” said Thack.

“It's a long story,” I said.

My eyes met Max's, and I nodded. I would call him later and let him know whatever Thack found out.

Max wanted to honor the treaty, and he knew better than anyone why its terms had been negotiated this way. But, in the absence of a Lithuanian vampire hunter taking charge of this situation, he couldn't bear to stand by idly while Evil menaced the people of New York.

“Nelli is physically distressed here,” Max said, rising to his feet. As if to back him up, the familiar sneezed again. “We should go home.”

I gave Max a hug, promising casually to talk to him soon. Thack shook his hand, expressed pleasure at having met him, and ruefully acknowledged that Max had placed Thack in the unusual position of doing something that would make his family proud.

Leischneudel appeared in the doorway just as Max was departing. He greeted Max and Nelli—who sneezed.

“I think your dog is sick,” Leischneudel said with concern.

“I'm taking her home now,” said Max.

“I think I'm going to go home, too,” Leischneudel said apologetically to me and Thack. His pallor and the dark circles under his eyes were noticeable as he explained, “I've scarcely slept the past two nights, and I think I'll collapse facedown in my dinner if I go out now.” He added happily to Thack, “I'll see you at your office for my appointment later this week.”

“I'll see you then,” Thack said. “Nice performance today—despite everything.”

“Thank you.” Reminded of that farce, Leischneudel covered his face with one hand and started laughing helplessly again. I realized he
did
seem overtired.

I also recalled that the vamparazzi would still be outside in force, since Daemon hadn't yet left the theater. So I suggested that Max and Nelli walk Leischneudel to his cab, along with the Caped Crusaders who would be waiting outside the stage door for him. Obviously grateful for the company, since I wasn't going with him, Leischneudel was chatting pleasantly with Max as they left.

I turned to Thack. “So I guess it's just you and me for dinner.”

“No, I'm afraid we're doing to have to . . .” He swallowed and continued with obvious difficulty, “To accept Mr. Ravel's invitation to join him.”

“What? No! Why?” I had never spent any of my personal time with
The Vampyre
's star, and I didn't intend to start now.

“Uncle Peter says that since the cops and the media seem to think Daemon is the killer, he wants me to stick to him like a burr until we have instructions from Vilnius.” Thack sighed unhappily. “So that's what I'll do. My uncle isn't really the sort of person you argue with.”

“Oh. I see. All right.” My own course of action was obvious to me. “You know, Thack, I'm quite tired, too. If you don't mind, I think I'll just go home and—”

“Oh, no, you don't,” Thack said sternly. “You and your friend got me into this, Esther. So you're coming, too. I will
not
spend the evening on my own with that appallingly clichéd—Ah, Daemon!” Without missing a beat, Thack smiled as the Vampire Ravel appeared in my doorway. “There you are! Are we all ready to leave? Good, good. Where we shall go?”

“M
y God,” Thack muttered, gesturing to our surroundings. “This place looks like a bad marriage between a Tim Burton film and a French bordello.”

“I thought there would be food,” I complained. “I'm hungry.”

Thack said to Daemon, “You're not eating those, are you?”

Without waiting for an answer, he plucked a little bowl of nuts off Daemon's end of the table and put it in front of me. The celebrity vampire, still red-eyed and pink-nosed, was sitting as far away from me as he could get while still remaining part of our merry little trio.

“I want dinner,” I said as I accepted the nuts. I had already eaten a bowl of pretzels.

“I need another cosmopolitan,” Thack said. “Where is that tastelessly dressed waitress of ours?”

Daemon, whose attention now seemed fully occupied with the vampire girl sitting on his lap, had chosen the venue for our evening out. We were in his (enviably luxurious) car by then, and Thack felt honor-bound to remain by his side until Uncle Peter called again. So when Daemon announced we were going to a club called the Vampire Cave (“where they love me”), we hadn't put up nearly as much of a struggle as I now realized we
should
have put up.

For one thing, there was no food here other than generic bar snacks and, as was usually the case after a performance, I was ravenous. There were some choices on the specialty drinks menu which I might have found amusing under other circumstances, but all things considered, I just felt my gorge rise at the thought of drinking a Bloodsucker, Jugular Juicer, or Carotid Cooler. In any case, right after the show, I had swilled about onethird of a bottle of lukewarm champagne on an empty stomach, so I had decided I'd better stick to club soda here.

I was rethinking that decision at the moment, actually, since the Vampire Cave wasn't sort of place where I particularly wanted to be sober, if I had to be here at all. Down a steep flight of steps, situated underneath a leather-gear novelty shop, this club was decorated pretty much as Thack had described. The customers were a cross-section of self-proclaimed vampires, vampire groupies, vampire lifestylers, psychic vampires, donors, and people hoping to (as Leischneudel would put it) meet a vampire. There were enough other customers dressed in ordinary street clothing that I didn't look out of place (though Thack, in his Brooks Brothers suit, certainly did), but vampire-goth was the most prevalent style choice among the clientele.

Thack glanced at his watch. “You would think,” he said, “that these people might have some place else to be this late on a Sunday night.”

“Such as home in bed?” Which was where I wanted to be. I gave in briefly to fantasizing about eating my favorite Chinese carry-out food in bed while watching TV, and then sleeping undisturbed for at least eight hours.

“Do you suppose that vampire hunting is always this demeaning?” Thack wondered, as Daemon and Vampire Girl pawed each other at our table. Several people in flowing black capes greeted the two of them while walking past us. “Or are we just lucky?”

Daemon was obviously well-known here, and he had told us he'd been a regular at this club ever since coming to New York. A number of people had greeted him since our arrival a half hour ago. They spoke to him as friendly admirers, rather than with the hysterical adulation displayed by fans outside the theater. And the woman currently occupying his attention wasn't even the first one to sit in his lap since we'd arrived; indeed, he seemed to have
several
friends-with-benefits among the club's clientele tonight.

Nonetheless, I noticed he was also getting some censorious looks from this crowd. I wasn't sure whether some of the people giving him dark glances thought he was a murderer, or whether they just thought he shouldn't be out partying and pawing so soon after the murder, all things considered. (Or maybe they just didn't like him bringing a scowling yuppie in a Brooks Brothers suit to the club, as well as a hungry actress who was eating all the bar snacks.)

When I used the ladies' room a little while later, though, I discovered another possible reason for the chilly glances. While I was out of sight in one of the two wooden bathroom stalls, a couple of girls were touching up their elaborate makeup at the sink. I wound up hovering in my stall and listening with mild interest as they talked about how Daemon had “gone commercial” and “sold out.” He also gave people the wrong impression of vampires, they said, which was bad for the vampire community.

“I mean, most vampires don't even drink blood at
all,
” one of the girls said. “But he makes it such a
thing
.”

“God, I know! And that whole ‘sunlight must not touch me' attitude,” said the other girl. “Puh-lease. How corny can you
get?
” She suddenly inhaled sharply. “Oh!”

“What is it?”

“Mmm.” She gave an ecstatic little moan. “I'm getting a psychic embrace from Rafael.”

“Oh,
wow.
”

I flushed the toilet and exited my stall.

As I was returning to my table, I paused to give a little finger wave to half of my vampire posse. The four guys had met us outside the stage door and had insisted on following Daemon's car here, riding on a couple of motorcycles, two men per bike. After we got here, Flame and Casper stayed outside with the bikes. Treat and Silent entered the club with us, though they sat unobtrusively at a separate table and didn't intrude on our evening, such as it was.

Flame had instructed Treat and Silent, “Keep eyeballs on Miss Diamond at all times.”

The Vampire Cave was small enough that my halfposse could easily monitor my trips to the bathroom and the bar without even leaving their table. And, fortunately, I had managed to convince Silent that coming
inside
the ladies' room with me would make the two of us much closer than we really wanted to be.

Daemon was canoodling with yet another goth girl when I sat back down at our table. I could tell from his unfocused, heavy-lidded eyes and slurred speech that he was very drunk by now. I gathered that, to top off the pleasures of my evening, my vampire host in this fine establishment had decided to go on a real bender.

Ignoring our companions, Thack said to me, “I mean it as an observation, not a criticism, when I say that, although you are normally an attractive woman, tonight you look like a boxer who recently lost a brutal match and you smell like a pharmacy. What on earth happened to you?”