Vampire (19 page)

“Not as much as Liz loves herself,” Brandon retorted. “Where did you get such a dumb idea?”

“She told me. At the hospital. She told me … how much she needs you.”

“Sure. She probably thinks she's dying. People have all kinds of second thoughts when they're dying.”

“Brandon … I'm not sure this was an act—”

“If you think I'm going to stop seeing you, you're wrong.” His voice changed so suddenly, went so cold, that she frowned. “What else did Liz tell you?”

Darcy hesitated, her grip tightening around the phone. “Nothing, really.… Brandon, I'm just trying to be fair—”

“Fair has nothing to do with it. If I want to see you, I'll see you.” His voice was hard now … stony … and after a moment's silence he forced a laugh. “I can do what I want, Darcy. I don't need Liz's permission.”

Darcy didn't know whether to feel upset or relieved. “Brandon—”

“Is that why you called? Because of Liz?” His tone changed again, softened now with concern and kindness. “Are you sure there's not something else bothering you? What did you and Liz talk about in there?”

Darcy cast another look toward the stairs. “She just—” Biting her lip, she went on, “Jake's acting awfully strange.”

She could imagine him, the look on his face, as his voice came back to her tensely. “What do you mean?”

“He's making me really nervous. On the way home I felt sick and kind of panicked, but he made me get back in the car. He's—I don't know—acting so weird and I'm afraid—”

“You're afraid of Jake?” Brandon cut in. “God, Darcy, you still don't think Jake has anything to do with those murders, do you? With what happened to Liz?”

Darcy made herself into a little ball on the corner of the couch, cupping her hand closer around the phone.

“Brandon, who knows the Dungeon better than Jake does? The lipstick, Brandon, that towel—”

“I can't believe I'm hearing this,” Brandon said solemnly. “Come on, Darcy—”

For a split second she felt the walls spinning around her … closing in …
I'm here alone with a murderer, and no one will believe me
.…

“Why would Jake hurt Liz?” Brandon wanted to know. “You know, Darcy, I think Liz must have said something to you at the hospital you're not telling me … maybe you'd better tell me what she said.”

“I …” Darcy stopped, drew a ragged breath. “Why would Jake hurt
anyone?
Look, Brandon, a psychopath doesn't particularly have to have a good reason for what he does, he just
does
it.”

“Ssh … calm down. Tell me what's really wrong.”

Darcy froze. “What do you mean? Why do you say that?”

“Because you sound like you're going to fall apart any second.” His voice was grave. “Is there something you're not telling me? Did something happen I don't know about?”

She was nodding, but no sound was coming out.
Yes, oh, yes, I'm going to be next, save me, Brandon, please, before it's too late—

“Darcy—”

“Please, Brandon, I know it's Jake, I just know it is—I—”

She didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind her … didn't see the hand reaching out for the phone.

“Hang up,” a voice said.

“What?” Darcy spoke louder. “Brandon, what did you say?”

“Say goodbye. And hang up.” The voice spoke again, only it wasn't coming from the receiver, she realized now, it was closer, in the room with her, right beside her—

A hand reached out for the phone.

“Brandon …” Darcy whispered slowly, “I really need to go now—”

A finger pressed down on the button, and Brandon's voice clicked off.

Darcy raised her eyes to the figure by the couch.

“I wish you hadn't done that,” Jake said.

21

D
arcy tensed, her eyes on the door, but before she could move, Jake had a hold of her wrists.

“Just sit there,” he said. “Just sit right there and don't even think about running.” As his eyes bored into her, she trembled and gave a choked cry.

“Are you going to kill me?”

She was actually surprised at how resigned she felt … surprised at how calm Jake seemed, towering above her, shaking his head slowly as a look of anger went over his face and then faded.

“I should.” He shrugged then. “But maybe I'll wait till later.” As he turned away and went into the kitchen, Darcy stared in disbelief. She heard the sounds of coffee being made and after a while he came back with two steaming cups, handing her one.

“So.” He sank down at the other end of the couch and sprawled back, stretching out his long legs. “Maybe you better tell me why you think I'm such a psychopath, huh?”

Darcy stared at him, her face going alternately white, then scarlet. Her hand shook so badly that coffee sloshed out, and she had to set the cup down.

“I … I …” she stammered, and Jake leaned his head back with a sigh.

“Come on, Darcy, I'd really like to hear this. Just start at the beginning. And whatever you do, don't leave out a
thing
.”

As he raised an eyebrow and waited, a sudden surge of indignation replaced her fear, and she reached for the phone.

“I'm calling the police.” She tried to sound brave, unsettled by his almost lazy indifference.

“Oh, by all means. I've got friends on the force who'd love to hear this. And call Brandon, too, since he's in on this—and Kyle and Elliott, so they won't feel left out—”

“It's not funny!” Darcy burst out, her hand clamping down on the arm of the couch. “How can you sit there like nothing's happened! When everything is so horrible!”

“What?” Jake said quietly. “Your accusing me of murder? Yeah, I guess that's pretty horrible, all right.”

Darcy clammed up and laced her fingers together around one knee. She stared straight ahead, and the silence went on and on.

“So what gave me away?” Jake said at last. “My late hours? My sleazy personality?”

“Stop it,” Darcy murmured.

Jake leaned toward her, looked hard into her face. “You're really afraid of me, aren't you, Darcy?” He sounded bewildered. “You really think …” He left the sentence unfinished and closed his eyes with a groan. “Damn …”

“Please let me go,' she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

“Let you go?” Jake echoed. “Go
where?
Your mother doesn't give a
damn
about you—never did, as far as I can tell. Come on, Darcy, I thought we needed each other.”

Now it was Darcy's turn to look stunned. As Jake leaped to his feet and began pacing, she brushed hastily at her tears and ran the back of her hand across her runny nose.

“I mean, look at you,” Jake muttered, but more to himself than to her as he walked back and forth across the living room. “You're so pretty—so—so
sweet
—you cleaned up the place—”

“But you hated it when I did that!”

“I never said I hated it! I said I couldn't find anything!'

“Well”—Darcy sniffled—“it was such a mess—”

“
It
was such a mess!” Jake stared at her, somewhat incredulously. “
I
was such a mess! I expected a carbon copy of your mother, and instead I got you! God, if I weren't such an honorable guy!”

Darcy straightened, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

“And if you weren't so damn innocent!” he sputtered. “I'm trying my hardest not to care about you, and you think I'm a murderer!”

As they stared at each other, Jake suddenly flushed and looked away, and Darcy's eyes widened in shock.

“You didn't even want me here!”

“Don't tell me what I want,” Jake said gruffly. “How was I supposed to know you were going to be so nice? How was I supposed to know I was going to—well—you know—like you so much?”

Darcy's mouth fell open. “You … you … like me?”

“Well, obviously you haven't gotten that impression, since you've decided I'm trying to kill you.” Jake sounded indignant.

“Well …” Darcy didn't know what to say. She stared numbly at Jake's back and finally mumbled, “The lipstick … the towel …”

“What lipstick and towel?”

“In your closet—you told me not to go in there—I thought—”

“Well,
excuse
me for wanting some privacy around here!” Jake turned on her. “I'm not sure what lipstick you're talking about, but if it's the one I picked up off the floor in the lobby the other night, you might as well know now that I'm known to use my pockets as temporary trashcans! Is that a crime?”

“But the towel on the floor—it was all bloody—” She broke off abruptly. She couldn't bring herself to admit that she'd eavesdropped on his strange conversation.

“And I told
you
I hurt myself!” Jake waved his bandaged hand under her nose. “So what? I'm so clever that I dump all the evidence of my crimes in my closet?” Jake scowled. “Not only am I a murderer—I'm a stupid one, too!”

“Well …” Darcy looked at him helplessly as he began pacing again.

“Not that I owe you any kind of explanation,” Jake said grudgingly, “but a guy jumped me after work, and the fight got pretty nasty.” He frowned down at his hand. “Not that I owe you a reason,” he muttered again.

Darcy pressed her hands against her eyes. The fierce whirling in her brain was beginning to subside. Jake was still stalking back and forth like a caged animal, and she remembered the first time she saw him and how cute she'd thought he was.…

“—or maybe your mother warned you I had a psychopathic personality,” he was saying to no one in particular. He thought a moment and shrugged. “Or maybe you heard it from one of my old buddies down in the Dungeon—”

“But you talk to them,” Darcy spoke up. “You talk about them like they're
alive
—you talk to them like they're all real—”

“Well, great.” Jake nodded vigorously. “Yep, you've got me now—put the cuffs on me and just haul me away—”

“Jake,” Darcy broke in, “I'm just trying to—”

“So, I talk to them.” He turned to her then, calm, composed. “So I take care of them, make sure they look nice for the public … fix them when they need fixing. And they're the ones I talk to. 'Cause they never break confidences, they never turn on me. They never blame me or … or … condemn me … or try to change me. They take me for what I am.” His voice faded, and his eyes looked full and sad. “Gus was like that … and he loved them so much … and these dumb statues, they never leave me, you know? They just”—he swallowed hard and looked away—“never leave me.”

Darcy hardly realized she was off the couch. She lay one hand cautiously on his back and felt him tense. He turned around, his look guarded.

“You know, I watched you last night when you were sleeping, and I was wishing you could always be safe and happy … and I thought how it'd been so long since I'd really cared about anything.” He lowered his head, and his voice was almost a whisper. “So you'll forgive me, right, if I find this murderer theory of yours a real slap in the face.”

She searched his eyes, the odd mixture of hurt and amusement, and she lifted one hand gently to his cheek. He took it before she could touch him and studied her with that same skeptical expression.

“What are you so afraid of, Darcy?” he whispered.

And suddenly she was in his arms, her head against his chest, his arms tight around her as she clung to him in confused desperation, as she blurted out the story of Liz at the hospital, terrified to do it, hating herself, but telling him just the same, wanting to feel safe and protected, needing to trust someone—

“I don't want to die,” she sobbed, and he stroked her hair as if she were a child, his voice soothing, hypnotic, as he reassured her.

“No … you won't … shh, now … shh …”

And he tucked her into bed and brought her warm milk, helping her hold the glass, guiding it to her lips—

“Drink it,” he coaxed, “it'll help you sleep. Sweet, peaceful sleep.…”

“I can't,” she said, even as she drank it, even as his hand tilted the cup to her lips. “You'll stay, won't you?”

“Of course I will.” And still he held her until finally,
finally
—she began to drop off, her head pillowed against him, her words murmuring over and over as in some strange dream—“Don't leave me … please …”

And “no,” Jake promised, holding her, rocking her into sleep. “I'm here, Darcy … I'll watch over you.…”

“I didn't know what else to do,” she tried to tell him, and again he shushed her, his voice like a strange lullaby.

“Of course you didn't,” he said. “Who can you really trust?”

“Please stay … please …”

“I'll watch over you.” Jake smiled. “I'll stay with you.”

22

I
t was really the strangest dream.

Ceilings above … tilting … walls spinning … her body floating in the air … weightless … borne on an invisible current that swept her so easily along through the dark.…

Through the deep, peaceful … blackest dark.…

“Jake,” Darcy mumbled, and she tried to open her eyes, but her head felt like a block of stone, and her mind couldn't seem to function. With a groan she forced her eyelids open, then lay there in confusion, thinking she hadn't opened her eyes at all because everything was still so black … still so empty.…

I must still be asleep … I must still be dreaming
.…

In her dream she saw a light … far away from her … and as she tried to focus in on its hazy glow, it grew larger … moving through the darkness softly, noiselessly, like a phantom. It came closer, hypnotizing her with its luminescence, and as she stared in a kind of wonder, it hovered in the air beside her and melted into a human face with an aura of pale silver hair.