Crave (22 page)
Authors: Karen E. Taylor
He chuckled a bit and walked over to sit next to me. “I like that dream.”
“I thought you might. But we can't do that now; like it or not we have made a commitment here. And I intend to stand behind my promises, whether or not those who extracted those promises are worthy. Sam said something today that really hit home.” I tried to paraphrase his many questions into one. “He wondered why, with all of our eternal life and our powers, we don't try to make a bigger impact for good on the world around us.”
“To be honest, Deirdre, I have wondered the same thing.”
I gave him a rueful smile. “I would have expected no less from you, my love. You are still very new at this.”
He shot me an angry look. “Now that's hardly fair . . .”
“I don't mean that to sound patronizing, Mitch,” I interrupted. “With only a little more than two months under your belt, you have made great strides. You are an excellent example of what can be done.” I reached over and squeezed his arm. “Especially when you start with prime material. But your thinking is closer to Sam's at this point than mine is. His question took me completely by surprise. And made me take a hard look at my priorities.”
“There's nothing wrong with your priorities.”
“Yes, there is. I've been fending for myself for so long that I sometimes forget that the world out there is not just for my taking. I can't make a difference to the problems of disease and war and famine. But I can make sure that I live up to my promises.” I made a face at him. “You can probably wave the flag now, if you want. That was an incredibly maudlin speech.”
“Not maudlin at all, Deirdre. It's just unlike you to take the big view. Not that I didn't think you cared about those things, but that you had distanced yourself from them.”
“Distanced is a good word. We are a very insular breed, so totally convinced of our superiority. I suspect that we need to have a Larry Martin come along every so often and shake us up. Living forever can make us entirely too complacent.”
“And danger can make us reckless. Do you really intend to have Sam run his little experiments on you? What if something goes wrong?”
“If something goes wrong, then I die. I don't want to die, Mitch, and I don't intend to die. But if it happens at this point, no one can say that it wasn't long overdue.” I leaned my head up against his arm. “I don't mean that to sound cruel, Mitch, I don't want to leave you. I love you. But you must see that, if I don't take this chance, it's possible Larry Martin will find a way to kill all of us. And I would be just as dead either way.”
Chapter 25
M
itch looked at me, his eyes glowing with passion and pride. “You're right, Deirdre. I'm sorry that I was being so obstinate with you. If you feel this is something you have to do, then do it. I'll support you one hundred percent of the way.”
itch looked at me, his eyes glowing with passion and pride. “You're right, Deirdre. I'm sorry that I was being so obstinate with you. If you feel this is something you have to do, then do it. I'll support you one hundred percent of the way.”
“Thank you.”
“I'm probably just jealous anyway. You seem to have accomplished more in your time away than I have. All I've managed to do is make a large number of the house leaders angry and upset. And believe me, you don't want to make these people angry.” He ran his hand over his face. “I haven't shaved since you left, haven't showered either. These people can run you into the ground with their pettiness and their disputes.”
I took a long look at him. Despite his complaints, he was smiling and seemed relaxed and fit. “And you're loving every minute of it all.”
“No, I'm not.” His voice held a touch of laughter.
“Tell the truth, Mitch. You've been having a good time.”
“Well, at least I feel like I'm accomplishing something more than balancing the bar tab every night. I got them to agree to post a guard at all the possible entrances to this place. I got them to agree that they would not go out except in pairs. And I got them to accept this as a sort of martial law period.” He laughed out loud this time. “Now that was an accomplishment.”
“Martial law? What exactly does that mean?”
“Basically, that anyone who steps out of line has to deal with me. No questions, no complaints. My decision is law. That's probably why I came down on you so hard about this experiment thing.”
“It's perfectly all right, Mitch, I understand. I didn't really mean that remark about how being leader has gone to your head. You're not like that. I don't think you ever will be.”
He kissed me and jumped up from the bed. “And now for the surprise.” He started to remove his clothing, a self-satisfied smile on his face. “In the midst of everything else, I learned one other thing. I guess I should say that I'm ashamed to admit that this is what I'm most proud of. But,” and he stepped out of his pants and his briefs, “that would be a lie.”
I started to laugh. “You learned to take your clothes off? I could have taught you that. So who's your teacher?”
“Wouldn't you like to know?” He gave me a mock glare and I laughed again. He looked so wonderfully ridiculous, standing there, stark naked, his hands on his hips that I couldn't help myself. I laughed until tears started to stream down my face.
“Shut up, woman,” he was trying hard to control his own laughter. “This is no time for levity. Now watch.”
He closed his eyes for a minute to concentrate. When he opened them again, they were unfocused, staring off into the distance, as if he were seeing into another world. Then I saw the outlines of his body blur, change and I realized he was in another world. He moaned and fell to the floor on his hands and knees. A shiver began to run up his back, his skin texture changed and silver, wiry hair began to cover him, starting from the middle of his back and spreading all directions. He lifted his head and gave a wordless cry that turned into a howl as his face changed shape, and animal features quickly superimposed themselves over his familiar ones. He shuddered once and howled again and the transformation was complete.
What had once been Mitch was now a very large, very frightening silver-coated timber wolf. I shrank back just a little on the bed and he turned his head to stare at me, a wild and feral look in his eyes.
“Mitch?” I saw recognition begin to grow in his eyes. He padded over to me and sniffed at my outspread hand. Then he jumped up onto the bed and lay down next to me. I stroked his head lightly and closed my eyes. I could feel the essence of his soul within the body of the animal and I relaxed totally. He lifted his head to my face, his tongue out slightly, panting, exposing a set of truly dangerous-looking teeth. But the eyes were the eyes of the man I loved and I felt no fear. I hugged him around the neck and whispered into his pointed ear.
“Very nice, my love. You make a superb wolf. But can you change back now? I want you to teach me that clothes trick.”
The wolf shook his head ever so slightly and sat up, giving my face a sloppy lick. Then he closed his eyes again. This time the outlines of the wolf faded into nothingness, curling into a mist that slowly wound its way to the center of the room. And coming out from within the mist, as if he were walking through a tunnel, was Mitch. Then the mist was gone, as quickly as the wolf had disappeared and he stood in front of me again, in all his naked glory.
“So what did you think?”
I knew he was very pleased with himself. And I was very happy in his pleasure. That he could learn to do this so quickly, so effortlessly was amazing. I held my arms out to him. “I think I love you, Mitchell Greer.”
“Aw, shucks, ma'am, I'll bet you say that to all the wolves.” He approached me with a wide grin spread across his face; I could plainly see the wolf buried deep within him. And what had once appeared to me to be a denial of our human nature now seemed normal and natural.
“So are you going to teach me the clothes trick or not?”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Greer.”
“And mine, my love.” I lay back on the bed and he removed my clothing slowly, one piece at a time. When I was finally naked, he covered me with his body, pinioning my arms with his hands, and my legs with his. I put up a mock struggle and he growled at me.
“So, now that you are the prisoner of Mitch, the grand-exalted Pooh-Bah of the Cadre, wolf and mist extraordinaire, what will you do? Try to escape?”
I put my mouth up to his ear and bit gently on the lobe. “Never,” I whispered, “but you must be careful at all times that I don't turn the tables on you. Then you'll be my prisoner.”
The phone rang and we both jumped. “Damn.” He rolled off of me and reached for the phone. “Yeah? Okay, I'll be right there.” He slammed the receiver down.
“Bad news?”
“Another rose has disappeared from the vase. Right under the nose of the guard, who saw nothing. Now the leaders are willing to listen. Sorry.”
“It's fine, Mitch, I understand. I think I should come with you this time, don't you? Because if they're willing to listen, I have things to say they need to hear.”
Â
The Cadre's council room was amazingly normal in its furnishings. I suppose after my exposure to the judgment center I was expecting trappings and ostentatiousness. Instead, this room was a typical conference room. No different from the one at Griffin Designs or many other places I had been. It held a long chrome and glass table, surrounded by chairs with chrome frames and black leather seats and backs. In one corner was a credenza that held a pitcher of ice water, some glasses and a telephone. And of course the vase of roses.
I went over to it and counted. There were, indeed, only eight red ones left and they were starting to look bedraggled and dry. The black rose bud had still not opened. Mitch sat down at the short end of the table away from the door and motioned for me to take the place to his right. As I did so, he pulled the tape recorder from his pocket and set it on the table. He sorted through the sheaf of papers he'd brought with him and only looked up from them when the other members began to file in.
Vivienne came first and she threw a kiss to me as she sat down to Mitch's left. I had never learned the names of the other members, but since none of them looked at me when they entered, it did not seem to be an issue. Mitch could tell me who and what they were at a later date. They were a gray and lifeless group at best, no less bedraggled than the roses in the vase. They took their places around the table without a word to each other. That the seat next to me was left vacant came as no surprise.
Victor was the last to arrive. He sat at the opposite end of the table nearest the door. I tried to catch his eye, but he avoided all direct contact with everyone. He kept glancing at his watch and then at the door, mumbling to himself the whole time. I noticed that the others kept their distance and wondered why Mitch had even invited him. He couldn't possibly follow the discussion, much less have anything to add or suggest.
But to my surprise he opened the meeting. “Call to order,” he said and his voice was strong. “Are all houses present?”
Mitch spoke up. “All houses present.”
“Good,” Victor said. “As soon as Ron gets here we can start.” At the mention of the name, a muted whisper rose from the others for one brief second.
“Victor?” Vivienne's voice sounded soft and concerned. “Ron can't be here tonight, he asks that we go on without him.”
“Fine,” he said, his voice quavering a bit. He put his hands on top of the table and leaned in toward us. “Where are my notes? I can't run this meeting without my notes. Ron knows that.”
This time Mitch interrupted him. “Ron left the notes with me, Victor. Now with your permission we will start.”
Victor nodded regally in Mitch's direction. “If you would read them for me, young man, I'd be very grateful. My eyes are not what they used to be.”
Then, as if the meeting were over, he got up from the table, pushed his chair back underneath and left the room.
They all watched him leave and then turned their attention back to Mitch. He cleared his throat and began.
“Three sunrise deaths have occurred. Does anyone still believe that these deaths were suicides?”
The woman sitting next to Vivienne spoke. “Since I was the one who fought most adamantly against you, Mitch, I have to admit that the third death has convinced me. Two suicides, two mornings in a row could be coincidence. But three? No, I will now agree that these are murders and should be punishable as such.”
Mitch glanced around the table. “Anyone else want to make a case for these deaths being suicides?” He paused and searched the faces of the others. “Okay, then, we're all agreed.”
The man two seats down from me spoke next. “So we've agreed that the deaths are murder, that doesn't prove who is responsible. It could just as easily be any of us as this Larry Martin person.”
“I have a witness of sorts to one of the deaths.” Mitch turned to me. “Deirdre, can you relate what happened to you the past three mornings?”
I stood up from the table, feeling at more of an advantage that way, and told them of the visions I had seen. These actually proved nothing but my sensitivity to the events. And prepared the way for the recording that Sam had made that morning.
“Mitch will play the tape from the session this morning after Jean's death. I will come back when it is through and answer any questions you might have.”
“Deirdre, you're not staying to hear the tape?” Vivienne asked the question we had set up ahead of time.
“No,” I said and walked to the door, “once was quite enough, thank you.”
Â
I had at least three-quarters of an hour before the tape ran all the way through. Although I had prompted Vivienne to ask that question, it was absolutely true that I never wanted to hear the tape again. So I took the elevator upstairs into the Imperial and sat down in the near-empty bar.
The bartender smiled. “Red wine, right?”
“Yes, thank you. Slow night, tonight?”
“About par for a Sunday.”
“I guess it is Sunday, isn't it?”
“All day,” he laughed and handed me my glass. “You're from downstairs, aren't you?”
I took a long sip of the wine. “Yes, my husband and I are staying here for a while, as Victor's guests. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I know it's none of my business, but there's been some talk today. About Victor and how he's sick and might be closing the place. This is a good job with great tips and I'd hate to have to go somewhere else.”
“Victor is very upset about the death of a close friend. But I haven't heard a word from him or anyone else about the Imperial closing. I think your job is safe for now.”
“Thanks.”
He started to wash glasses, but I was aware of his curious glances in my direction.
“Big goings-on down there this weekend.”
“Really? I can't say that I've noticed. I've not been in that much. You know how it is when you're from out of town, lots of people and places to visit.”
“Yeah, sure, that's how it always goes. So where are you from?”
“Here actually, but I've spent most of the past two years in England.”
“And you came back for business?”
I shrugged and finished my wine in one drink. All of his questions made me nervous. “Half business, I suppose,” I said, sliding from the stool and laying a bill on the bar. “And the other half is none of yours. Good night.” I smiled pleasantly at him, but I knew he got the hint.
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