Dangerous Calling (The Shadowminds) (10 page)

I just needed time. The feeling would fade.

I curled into the hard curve of Shane’s body. The sheets were warm and smelled of him—soap and shaving cream and a hint of motor oil. Calm settled over me, and I felt sleep slowly reassert itself.

A jolt went through me, a buzz of power like a pull, but sharper. Shane sat bolt upright, instantly alert.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know.” This time it wasn’t me—I was sure. I climbed out of bed and pulled on a guest robe. Shane was right behind me. It was on this floor, whatever it was, and that left only one possibility.

“
Diana
,” I said, and we both took off at a run.

She was in the Robicheau Room on the opposite side of the house, overlooking the courtyard. The power had the feel of panic to it, and I didn’t bother knocking. If it was just a nightmare, we could have a nice laugh over Lionel’s hot chocolate. The door wasn’t locked. I shoved it open.

Diana was curled in a ball in the middle of the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, her head buried. She was muttering to herself, but I couldn’t make out the words. I was afraid to speak. The power was coming from her, no question. Another jolt hit me, and Diana rocked back and forth, her muttering growing louder.

“
What the hell—
” Shane was frozen in the door behind me. I could only shake my head.

Her head snapped up, and she opened her eyes. I took a step back. They’d gone almost totally black, the pupils nearly obscuring the whites. She looked past me without seeing me, still muttering.

I took a careful step into the room. I wanted to go to her, but something about the power around her held me back, as though I’d get an electric shock if I touched her. I inched closer, testing. She didn’t react, then her eyes cleared, normalized, refocused. She looked right at me.

“What kind of light bulbs do you have in this room? Regular? Fluorescent?” She stood up and looked at the light fixture. “Take it down.”

Shane and I looked at each other. “Uh, sorry?” I said.

“Take down the light bulbs. Let me see them.”

I looked up at the fixture. It was an old-fashioned one, a mosaic of clear glass with lead piping. I used telekinesis to loosen one of the bulbs and brought it floating into my hand. It was one of the fluorescent kind, a spiral tube. Diana snatched it, examined it, and thrust it back at me.

“Good. You’ll want to keep those on. Do you have more?”

I stopped worrying whether she was all right and started worrying whether she was sane. I tried, very carefully, to slip into her head, but she had those shields up again, nothing there but a blank wall. I couldn’t even pick up her emotions.

“Is that...important?” I asked.

“Only if you want to live.” She turned to Shane. “She’s going to rip your throat out.”

The words weren’t a threat. They were a fact. She spoke them like you would tell someone he was dying of an inoperable brain tumor.

I sat back on my heels. “Well, that’s detailed.”

“It’s how she usually kills people. She’s a vampire.”

Chapter Ten

I exchanged a look with Shane.

“
Is she insane?
I
mean
,
actually insane?
”

“
She’s definitely something.
”

“A vampire?” I kept my voice neutral. I didn’t want to challenge her delusion, not right now. Whatever state she’d just come out of, she might be fragile, and I didn’t want to push her over the edge.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.”

“We’ve, uh, just never met one before,” Shane added.

I decided to focus on the less radical statement. “Why would Annette want to kill Shane?” After all, I was the one who’d just kidnapped her prize mind-reader, and she’d very recently dangled me over the side of a building.

“She’ll kill you, too, if you get in the way.”

Shane actually laughed. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Diana looked grim. “I don’t. You’re—” She cut off with a gagging sound and doubled forward, retching.

“Diana!” I ran forward, but she waved me off.

“No—can’t—don’t ask—”

“What is it? Let me help you.” Her whole body shook with effort, and she’d broken out in a cold sweat. She curled up in a ball and went still. Shane and I stared at each other, not sure what to do.

“She stops me,” she said after a long moment. “She won’t let me tell anyone. She stops me.”

I remembered the strange compulsion I’d felt behind the garden shed. Was it possible she was telling the truth?

“Is that one of her vampire powers?” I asked, and worried I’d slipped one step closer to crazy.

Diana sighed. “You’re converters, right? Telepaths too?”

“Yeah...”

“Here.” She held out a hand to each of us. “It’ll be faster this way. Just look.”

Shane pressed his lips together, but when I covered Diana’s hand with my own, he followed suit. Diana closed her eyes, and the massive shields around her mind went down. I took the invitation and slipped into the memory she offered us.

When telepaths shared memories, we usually led our viewers through the story of what happened in pieces, splicing important parts together and leaving out the stuff in between. Depending on how disciplined someone’s mind was, the story was smoothly edited or choppy, all in the right order or shuffled. Shane had a lot of control and discipline, but his memories still had a fluid, organic feel to them, pulling in fragments of related emotions and images. Shane’s sister Mina was much more linear when she shared memories, careful and ordered. Everyone had their own style.

Diana’s style was absolute precision. She wasn’t a telepath, so she couldn’t project her thoughts, only offer them, and I didn’t expect her to have the kind of control it took to lay out a memory like a storyboard. But being in her head was like watching Oscar-worthy editing. No other memories crowded in. No stray thoughts clouded the narrative. She was a master.

In her memory, we were back in the parlor where I’d waited for Annette, the same low light, the same oddities on the side tables. Annette sat on the edge of a fancy couch. From the perspective, Diana must have been standing behind her. The older woman looked up and put her hand over Diana’s on the back of the couch.

“I know it’s difficult to understand.”

“Not, it’s just—”

“You don’t have to explain.” Annette squeezed Diana’s hand, gently, like a mother reassuring an anxious child. “You’ll see the way it is.”

From the pitch of Diana’s voice, this must have been years ago. She sounded as though she was barely out of childhood. Her memory was colored only with the emotions she’d felt at the time, and that past Diana was nervous, doubting, full of a young woman’s awe. There was a knock at the parlor door, and it opened a crack.

“Come in.” Annette’s voice was pitched to carry across the room.

A young man walked in. Twenty years old, maybe younger. He was wearing a light blue polo shirt and khaki cargo shorts.

“Miz Perrin?”

“Come and sit down.” She patted the couch next to her.

“Sam said you needed help moving a dresser?”

“Later.” She put her hands on either side of his face. He jerked back, but she was strong. She pressed and held him, looking right into his eyes. “You will feel no pain. You will not cry out. When I release you, you will remember nothing and you will leave with the memory of moving my dresser and being paid. Diana?”

Diana stood up straight and handed a hundred-dollar bill to Annette. She took it and shoved the bill into the young man’s shorts.

“Take off your shirt.”

He did it, methodically and carefully, as if he were at a doctor’s office. He had a broad, hairless chest, the muscles cut and hard. It rose and fell with his breathing, which had gotten faster. He sat very straight on the edge of the couch and stared at a spot on the opposite wall. She hadn’t told him not to feel fear.

Annette handed his shirt to Diana, who took it and twisted the fabric in her hands. Annette laid a towel in the guy’s lap then stroked her hand up the side of his face, tilting his head to the side and exposing his neck. Then she struck.

I felt Diana’s gasp, her involuntary step back. It wasn’t like in the movies. There was blood everywhere. It ran down his neck and chest and soaked the towel she’d laid in his lap. Whatever mind-bending craziness she’d done to him, it worked, because he didn’t make a sound. Her throat worked, swallowing. Her hands clenched around his upper arms so tightly I was afraid she’d broken his bones.

When she pulled back, I saw the fangs. They were long and pointed and slightly curved, extending half an inch past her upper lip. She tipped her head back and gave a moan of ecstasy, her eyes half-closed in satiated bliss. The guy touched the side of his neck and gazed at his bloody fingers in bewilderment.

Annette licked her lips and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She used her own nail to slice the pad of her thumb, and she rubbed her own blood over the wound in his neck. I could only assume she’d healed him, because blood stopped gushing from the holes. She wiped his skin clean with another towel.

“Diana? His shirt?”

Diana didn’t move. Annette had to turn and pry the thing from her clenched fist.

She dressed him. It was almost tender. She helped him stand and sent him on his way. Then she turned to Diana.

“You see? That’s all I need. I know it seems terrible, but I do what I must to survive. You understand, don’t you? Haven’t you done what you need to do to survive?”

Diana nodded automatically, but the tangle of her emotions nearly overwhelmed me. Fear that bordered on terror, sorrow with the flavor of loneliness, an overpowering desire to forget what she’d just seen, to go on like she’d been before. It was heartbreaking—the uncertainty of a betrayed child.

The memory faded to black, shields coming back up around her mind, and I dropped out of her head.

“Do you believe me now?” Her voice was softer, almost pitying.

I couldn’t answer immediately. This was impossible. It couldn’t be happening. Shane stared at her in open shock.

But I remembered how Annette had moved, how she’d survived a knife wound to the chest. “Yes,” I said finally. “I believe you.”

* * *

We waited until we got downstairs to speak, ducking into the garage. It was hot, but at least we wouldn’t be overheard.

“It’s got to be—I don’t know—one future out of many, or something.” My hand went involuntarily to my throat. Shane’s face was serious.

“Sibyls are rare,” he said. “I’ve never met one before. I don’t know how it works.”

“And what’s this about vampires? I mean—
vampires?
”

“I was as shocked as you are.”

“I’m calling Susannah.”

“I’m not sure—” Shane began, but he stopped when we both felt it. Anger with a thread of panic.

Lionel. The kitchen.

Everything Diana had just told me fled from my mind. We raced back inside and through the guests’ dining room, where Bruce had already laid out place settings for breakfast. I burst through the swinging door to the kitchen and almost knocked over one of the guests. Mrs. Robards, a tourist from out of state. And she was not happy.

We never let guests into the kitchen. Too much of a chance they’d see something they shouldn’t. It was surprising enough to find her there, but it was even more surprising to see her yelling at Lionel.

“There was a
fight
out there last night! I know what I heard!” She barely looked up as Shane and I barreled into the room and skidded to a halt. A man—I guessed it was her husband—was standing behind her, and so was one of the other guests, a single woman named Nicole who looked too timid to join in the shouting match, but not too timid to nod in agreement.

“Ma’am, the Quarter can be loud at night, what with all the folks coming and going from the bars. I’m sure—”

“And she found
blood
on the front porch.” Mrs. Robards gave Nicole a brisk little nod. “How do you explain that, hmm? Blood!”

“I—” Lionel began. The rest of the guests were listening in. The two guys from the Blue Room actually poked their heads in the swinging door and watched the show.

“I want my money back or I will be going to the local news with this.” Mrs. Robards looked at her husband and nodded. “I don’t know what kind of illegal activities you have going on here, but I want no part in it.” The two guys laughed out loud. It was one of those moments when I wished I wasn’t telepathic.

—crazy bitch—
That was one of the guys.

—I’m not racist
,
but something just seems wrong about this place—
That was Mrs. Robards.

—wow—didn’t think she’d go nuts like this—wow—
That was Nicole.

—not staying if it isn’t safe—
That was Mr. Robards.

The unfortunate thing was, he was right. It was safer for all of them if they left. I thought about how much money I had left in savings. Enough for us to float for a month, maybe six weeks.

“We’ll be checking out immediately,” Mrs. Robards said. “I would like the remainder of my balance refunded in cash.”

Lionel sighed and nodded to Bruce, who shook his head but went into the office. He counted out their bills while Lionel apologized. Nicole looked almost like she’d stay, but when Mrs. Robards glared at her, she asked for her money back. After they left, we all stared at each other, then Lionel sat down at the battered wooden table and blew out a breath.

“I reckon I’ll get breakfast started,” he said.

“Uncle Lionel—”

“Shane, go get the coffee urns. Forgot to wash them last night, what with everything going on.”

“I—”

“Go on. Not a lot of time left.”

Shane went to get the urns from the guests’ dining room, and I slipped out the door to the backyard. I scrolled through my contact list and found Susannah. Lionel didn’t know the half of it yet.

I called the grill, thinking she’d be there, and she was. I didn’t have to go through a perky waitress this time. Susannah picked up on the first ring.

“We have a serious problem,” I said.

“Another one?”

I ignored her tone and told her what Diana had said.

“A vampire. Hmm.” She didn’t sound surprised. At least it was confirmation that the things existed. Not that that was reassuring.

“They’re actually real?” I asked. There was still a chance this was all some incredibly strange misunderstanding.

“Oh, yes. Not all that common, fortunately, and they rarely call attention to themselves. You appear to have found a more active one.”

“Great.”

“It’s not surprising, given that you still don’t have a guardian.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I can put an ad in the paper.”

She ignored my sarcasm. “What color are her eyes?”

“Excuse me?”

“Her eyes. What color are they?”

“It’s hard to say. Really pale blue, almost white.”

Susannah sighed. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Her eye color is unfortunate?”

“It means she’s old. Very old. Her skin—was it pale? Washed out?”

“I guess.”

“She’s ancient. Very strong, very powerful. It will take a great deal to kill her.”

“How reassuring.”

“And is she rooted? Has she established a nest?”

“I don’t know what you mean by
nest
, but yeah, she’s got a house here.”

“Even worse.”

“Do you have any
good
news for me? I mean, anything I can use, here?”

“They’re sensitive to light—all forms, but especially UV. Regular light bulbs aren’t much use. LEDs and fluorescent lights will annoy her, black lights are better, but if you can find something stronger, use it. Set up a perimeter. It won’t stop her, but it will slow her down.”

I took notes on the back of a grocery store receipt. “What else? How do I kill her?”

“Decapitation’s best, but it’s difficult. They’re tough. You can rip out her heart, but that’s not easy, either. Guardians have the strength to do it, but since you don’t have one...”

“What about Ian?”

“Too young. Too inexperienced. Too far from his anchor point. Send a week-old guardian up against a vampire that old and he’s dead.”

He’d struggled, fighting her. And he’d needed Bunny’s intervention to recover.

“It sounds like we’re all dead.”

Susannah didn’t disagree.

“There’s something else,” I said. I told her what had happened when I pulled from Ian.

“Interesting,” she said, and I got the feeling I’d surprised her for the first time. “He didn’t even weaken?”

“Well, he had a knife in his wing, so he was pretty bad off already, but he didn’t seem to get any worse.”

She was quiet for a long time. I would’ve thought we’d lost the connection except for the sounds of frying and coffee percolating in the background. When she spoke, she was thoughtful. “I can only imagine it’s his connection to his city that you’re drawing from. You’re pulling from the whole city of Baton Rouge.”

“Is that...bad?”

“This is out of my area.”

“Great.” If it was out of her area, it was out of everyone’s area.