Crave (3 page)

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Authors: Karen E. Taylor

BOOK: Crave
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“How convenient,” Mitch drawled. “I remember it otherwise.”
Victor bared his white teeth in a threatening smile. “Different circumstances, Mitch. We're not talking here about an established house founder, but about an undisciplined murderer.”
“And Max wasn't?”
“Max would have been dealt with our way. Let's not begin to rehash a situation that, regretful as it may be, is now over and done with.”
Hearing the pain in Victor's voice, pain not diminished by the time that had passed since Max's death, I looked over at Mitch and pleaded with my eyes for him to drop the subject. Then I took his hand in mine and turned again to Victor. “All of that seems reasonable to me, Victor. We will do our best to help you.”
“Thank you, Deirdre. I knew you would. But I'm not quite through with the story. And this part may not be pleasant for you, my dear, but it is the most telling reason we wanted you.” Victor stood up, opened the overhead compartment, and brought out a large manila envelope. “The murders began to occur shortly after you and Mitch left town. Obviously, you personally cannot be held accountable for the deaths, but it seems that you are involved. All of the victims were last seen at the Ballroom of Romance.”
“What a surprise.” Mitch gave a small, derisive snort. The Ballroom had belonged to Max, been passed on to my ownership through his estate. And it carried nothing but bad memories for us both.
Victor sat back down and passed the envelope to Mitch. He took it, but did not open it. Instead he set it down on the seat next to him, as if leaving it unopened could delay the inevitable decision to cooperate with the Cadre. “You're involved with the Ballroom, too, Victor,” Mitch said evenly. “After all, you've been managing it for Deirdre in her absence.”
“Actually, I turned it back over to Fred. After you left town, there was no need to keep him in exile and he does a good job.”
“But,” I said, “Fred is not a rogue.”
“That is true,” Victor chuckled, shaking his head, “and Fred, even with all his faults, is definitely not responsible for the deaths. We have,” he cleared his throat, “screened all the Cadre members, none of them are involved.”
“So where does the Ballroom enter into this?” I did not really need to ask; from the sickening twist of my stomach, I realized suddenly that I knew who the rogue was. I glanced over at Mitch, and his grim nod confirmed my thoughts. But neither of us said a word, we just let Victor continue.
“Ever since the unfortunate occurrences there, rumors have abounded that the club is haunted.” Victor raised an eyebrow in a half-smirk. “Humans, who can figure them out? Business is better than it's ever been since the rumors started, even the murders haven't kept them away, but only added to the mystique.”
“Haunted?” Victor's choice of words threw me off balance. “How could it be haunted? Max is gone.” Mitch looked away from me, and drained his scotch, tensing at the tone of sadness in my voice. I couldn't help myself; not a day had gone by since his true death that I did not miss him.
“Deirdre,” Victor's voice wavered only slightly, “it's not Max who haunts the Ballroom of Romance. It is Larry Martin.”
Chapter 3
“O
f course,” Victor went on, “haunting is not the proper terminology, since our murderer is not a ghost. Apparently, as they say, reports of his death were greatly exaggerated and this, too, seems to involve you both. And although we know who the rogue is, we do not know why he is now a vampire,” Victor's voice became stern, “or why his transformation went unreported.”
I shook my head and sighed. We should never have gone away, should not have allowed Larry to prey upon the city. And now six people were dead due to our selfishness. I squirmed in my seat, avoiding Victor's gaze. We were almost as guilty as the rogue himself. “Sins of omission,” I murmured.
Mitch got up, went to the bar, and poured himself another scotch. Draining it in one drink, he turned around and looked at Victor, who rose from his seat deliberately and slowly to meet his gaze. Except for the smooth, low hum of the engines, the plane drifted in silence, a silence at first merely uncomfortable, then growing fearsome, threatening, as they continued to stare at each other. The muscles in Mitch's neck seemed to rise to the surface his skin, twisting and coiling. Victor's breathing accelerated, small drops of blood-tinged sweat began to appear on his forehead. And I was rooted in my seat, unable to move, unable to speak. The tension in the compartment expanded, growing so great that it seemed the plane must explode. I held my breath, suspended between their power, caught in their gazes like a fly in a web. Then suddenly, when I felt that neither of them could sustain a second more, Victor threw his head back and laughed, joined surprisingly by Mitch only a second later.
“Touché,
Mitch,” Victor rasped with a tone of admiration in his voice. “And I am not easily impressed. So, now that that's out of the way, will you help us?”
Mitch continued to laugh, a thick, harsh laughter I had never heard from him before. He stopped and he smiled. His canines were elongated and his eyes glowed with what seemed to me an inhuman passion. “With the greatest of pleasure, Victor.”
 
I sat silent for the remainder of the flight, not joining in the tentative camaraderie that seemed to have been established between Victor and Mitch. Instead, I drained two bottles of wine in the absolutely futile attempt to block out the sight of the two of them, both so powerful and terrifying. Every so often, I caught Mitch's reflected gaze in my window, but I kept my eyes on the night sky above us and the ocean below.
Mitch had finally opened the manila envelope and glanced at the pictures within. He made a move to hand them to me, but I shook my head and looked away. He shrugged at my seeming lack of interest, then turned back to Victor. “These are police photos. Do you mind if I ask how you got them?”
“We have friends in high places. You didn't seriously think that an organization such as the Cadre could exist without some local support.”
“I never heard of you.”
Victor laughed. “High places, Mitch. I hope I give no offense in saying that the knowledge wasn't allowed to filter down to the level at which you worked. But these same friends were partly responsible for our calling you in. You are a highly respected member of the department.”
“Were, you mean. I can hardly resume my regular job now.”
I flinched slightly at the regret in Mitch's voice, but Victor didn't seem to notice.
“While your return has not been discussed officially, I'm sure that something could be arranged should you desire it. But first things first; I think that you owe me an explanation about our rogue.”
I did not elaborate as Mitch told the story of Larry and how we suspected he had been transformed, how the gunshot from Mitch that had “killed” Larry had also punctured my shoulder and our blood had been mixed, how Larry must have slipped out of the morgue before the mandatory autopsy could be performed, and how the disappearance of the body would just seem like another lost piece of paper in an overwhelmed system of police red tape. Mitch and I had never spoken much of those circumstances, but it was obvious that he had spent a lot of time in thought about Larry. Not that I was surprised, since it was Larry's nearly fatal attack on him that caused me to change Mitch into what he was. I suspected that he had nightmares about that night; I myself had been haunted for over a century with the details of my own change. But at least, I thought, with a twisted smile, Mitch has the advantage of knowing who to blame.
“Deirdre?” Mitch's concerned voice brought me out of my reverie, and I noticed that we were alone in the compartment again. “We're about ready to land. And,” he checked his watch, “we've got only about an hour before dawn. Let's hope they're not too stacked up or we'll have to spend the day in here.”
“I'm sure Victor will take care of that.”
“No problem,” Victor's voice called out from the cockpit. “We're cleared for landing. Anyway, there's more time than that, you forgot to set your watch back. Here we are.”
The plane touched down, and when it finally slowed to a stop, a familiar figure emerged from the cockpit and walked up to us. Mitch's face twisted into a jealous grimace, but I found to my surprise that I was happy to see him. “Hello, Ron,” I said warmly. “Victor never mentioned that you were here.” Ron had acted once as a spy for the Cadre, reporting on my activities, but he had also been a good friend to me during a time when I felt I had no other.
Ron smiled. “Well, someone had to fly the plane and Victor needed to talk to you.” He gave Mitch a quick, furtive glance, then put his arms around me briefly and kissed my cheek, dropping back a respectful distance after he had finished. “Welcome back, Deirdre, it's nice to see you.”
“Thank you, Ron.”
Ron held out his hand to Mitch. “Hello, Greer,” he said brusquely. “Forgive me if I skip the kiss.”
Mitch shook his hand warily. “Fine by me.”
“Now, let me unload your luggage and we'll be on our way. There's a limo waiting.”
Mitch draped his arm around my shoulder and we walked to the door of the plane. Victor stood waiting for us, and opened the hatch. A set of stairs had been wheeled over and we exited into a clear, starlit night. When we got to the tarmac, Mitch put his head up, took a long whiff of the air and smiled. “It's nice to be home,” he said, with a note of contentment in his voice that I hadn't heard in months. “I missed this dirty old city.”
 
“I have prepared a room for you in the Cadre headquarters.” Victor turned around from the front seat of the limousine. “You need not stay there for the duration of your mission, but I thought it would be easiest until you had a chance to make your own arrangements. From what I understand, Mitch, your son has moved into your apartment.”
Mitch nodded. “Yeah, he called and told me. How did you know?”
Victor shrugged. “Very little escapes my notice when it concerns the security of the Cadre. Not knowing how much he knows about us, it seemed a good idea to keep an eye on him, now and then. He knows of your transformation, doesn't he?”
“No.” Mitch's face darkened slightly. “Actually, I haven't broken the news to him yet.”
“Ah, well,” Victor said, “you'll have plenty of time for that later on.”
Mitch gave a noncommittal nod and looked out the window. I held his arm and rubbed my head against his shoulder. The upcoming confrontation between Mitch and his son had me worried. Chris had a difficult enough time coming to terms with what I was. I suspected that learning what his father had become would result in his permanent alienation from the two of us. Mitch reached over and stroked my thigh gently. “It'll be okay,” he said, his voice a reassuring whisper. “He'll get used to the idea, sooner or later.”
Before too long, the limousine pulled up to the back entrance of the Imperial, the restaurant that Victor owned. Below, were the offices and the living quarters of the Cadre. We took the elevator down and entered into the meeting hall where the organization had stood in judgment of me, for the murder of Max Hunter. The room was dark now, we moved through it quickly and proceeded down a dimly lit hallway. Victor stopped in front of one of the closed doors, removed a key from his pocket and handed it to Mitch. While Mitch unlocked the door, Victor explained, “This was Max's room. I hope you don't mind, it was the only vacant one currently available. His personal effects have been removed, of course, and put in storage for your use at a later date. But we have tried to ensure your every comfort during your stay here.”
We started into the room and Victor continued, looking somehow embarrassed. “I hope you understand that you both are considered honored guests of the Cadre, so no payment for any of this is necessary. However, should you choose at some point to make this one of your permanent residences, and I sincerely hope that you will, arrangements will be made at that time.”
“Thank you, Victor,” I started, “but . . .”
“No, no, you don't need to decide anything now. You are most welcome here and your entrance into our community would be for the common good of us all. But we will not press you on the issue; you are free to stay or go. Make yourselves at home, please. And, if I don't see you before dawn, have a pleasant day's sleep.”
He left us and I looked around the room that had been Max's. It was pleasant enough, but dark and sparsely furnished. The furniture was mostly antique, the bed an enormous four poster covered in a red brocade spread. But what caught my eye first was the heavy brass stand, holding a familiar artifact. Victor had indeed tried to see to my every comfort, for he had procured the coffin that Max had bought for me. Mitch was standing over it, shaking his head. Then he looked at me and laughed. “Don't I get one, too?”
“You can have that one, my love. You know I'll never use it.” I smiled at him. Now that we were alone, I felt at ease again, as if my moments of fear and doubt had never occurred, as if his presence in my life was all I ever needed. The qualities of strength and integrity that I had admired in him had only intensified after his transformation. Victor was right; I had done well.
“But I want my own,” his eyes danced mischievously, “I wouldn't want to break from the mysterious image of the vampire. We need to keep up with the others, you know, follow the crowd.”
“You are so far above the others, Mitch, I do not think you need to worry.” I walked over to him and put my arms around him.
He hugged me tightly to him. “Still, I wonder that Victor didn't take care of it, along with everything else.”
“He didn't know about you, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. But it sure is nice to know he's not as omniscient as he thinks.” He moved away from me, and sat down on the bed, testing the mattress. “I guess I was supposed to sleep in this big bed, all by myself, while you slept in your box.” He stretched out on the surface, sighed, then lifted his head. “Well, aren't you going to get into that thing?”
“I'm not tired.” I stared at him for a while and a slow smile grew on my lips. I unbuttoned my coat and tossed it on a chair next to me. Crossing to the bed, I straddled Mitch's hips with my legs and kissed him on the nose. “Besides,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper, “I want to try out the bed first.”
His eyes shone with a familiar intensity. “Right here?” he asked, “with the entire Cadre surrounding us?”
“The Cadre be damned.”
“My thoughts exactly, Mrs. Greer.” He pulled me down on top of him and rolled us both over. His cool mouth brushed mine, then traveled to my neck, taking small playful nips. I shivered at the sensation and he laughed in delight. “I wonder,” Mitch whispered against my neck and I could feel his sharpened teeth graze the skin, “how it would feel to drink from you while you drank from me as we made love?” He paused briefly and his breath was warm, enticing. “Shall we find out?”
I did not need to say anything; he could surely feel the response building in my body as I arched my back and pressed up against him. My gums tingled with the growth of my canines and although I had just fed, an overwhelming hunger washed over me. I had only one thought before the instincts took full grasp of me:
I need never again struggle to hold back my passion. My hunger and appetite could no longer threaten the life of this man.
That he was technically not a man now, but a different creature, a vampire, did not enter my mind. He was Mitch and I loved him. He eased himself from me slightly and his hands traveled down my body, touching and undressing me until I finally lay naked underneath him. The texture of his bulky sweater and the hard coarseness of the jeans he still wore pressed against my bare skin nearly driving me crazy with my need. I reached up and roughly grabbed fistfuls of his sweater, impatiently pulling it over his head and throwing it to the floor. I ran my nails up his back and he stared down at me, not moving, his eyes so blue and intense that I felt bathed in their light. Then their expression changed so suddenly and he jumped up from me so abruptly that I felt I had been dropped off a steep cliff.

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