Lilith’s Dream: A Tale of the Vampire Life (39 page)

“Blaylock blooded you without telling you?” Ward asked without turning around. “I don’t think so.”

“No, she did. She did exactly that.”

He whirled, so fast that the elevator shuddered as it glided into the lobby. “You were begging for it! I was there, remember? You begged for it, and you got it, and you’ve loved it. Loved it! So don’t lie to me, you vicious piece of filth.”

“I was gonna switch to people who beat criminal raps,” she said miserably. “I have to eat.”

The street in front of the hotel was jammed with police vehicles. There were two truckloads of officers with machine guns, three police cars with their lights flashing, an ambulance, a limousine, and a black SUV.

“We want it in the car with us,” Ward said to the Egyptian.

“I agree.”

Then she was shoved into the limousine. The four of them surrounded her, two on the back seat, two on jumpseats, so that she was on the floor.

A moment later the entourage started off, the vehicles screaming through the streets at high speed.

“Did it feed him blood?”

“Lilith?”

“Did the damn thing feed my son blood?”

She hated to say it. “I hope not, but I don’t know.”

The Frenchman fingered his pistol. On the Egyptian’s face was a subtle smile, an expression worthy of a Zen master. Paul Ward glared at her out of eyes glittering with hate so pure it seemed curiously innocent, like Lilith’s hate, like her smile. She thought, They’re part vampire, both men.

They drove on through Cairo night, and Leo was vaguely aware of great monuments outside the windows, of lighted buildings and long rows of shopfronts, as she waited for the time that could not be far off, when they would destroy her. How strange it was that she was so calm. It was a funny thing, a small but crucial thing, that had swept away her fear and all desire to survive. She had seen the way Becky and Paul Ward held hands. Something about that wordless, continuous contact suggested that they were giving each other strength. It came—had to come—from the fierceness of their love for their son.

Tears stung her eyes. She was to be a sacrifice, in a sense, to the silent god of this love. It had been a desire to be loved—so natural and so human—that had tempted her to her blooding. “I love him,” she said.

Paul Ward turned red. Becky’s hand clutched his.

God, they were going to blast her to bits somewhere in some alley and leave her forever, wash her down the sewer or something.

They pulled up to a police station. Paul and Becky burst out of the car and ran inside. Two less guarding her. Leo grew watchful.

Becky ran up the short flight of steps calling out, “Ian, Ian,” and she heard—she
heard
—that young, unfinished voice reply, “Mom!”

She ran faster—then she saw him. She saw him in a cruelly bright room sitting on a green plastic chair. There were four uniformed policemen there, two old men, and a boy of perhaps twelve. When she appeared in the doorway, Paul right behind her, the boy came to his feet and, smiling, presented himself.

“He helped me,” Ian said.

Becky threw her arms around the thin frame. Paul stuffed money in his hands.

A policeman came forward. “Mr. and Mrs. Ward,” he said, “he’s only a little weaver’s apprentice, he’s not worth all those dollars!”

“He’s worth every penny,” Paul said.

“Well, then, God has smiled on the maker of rugs. But your son—we’ve lost our passport and, I think, gotten sick from smoking a water pipe. But all is well, God is good.”

She looked Ian up and down, frantic lest she see the flush of the blood-fed vampire. It wasn’t there—or was it? Never mind, she flew into his arms. He rocked back, then she felt his arms come up as he embraced her—and knew in an instant that he was too strong.

Paul came beside her and fumbled toward him. “Son,” he said. But then he, too, fell silent. Everyone in the room watched them. Everyone in the room sensed the power of the emotions involved.

General Karas said to the police captain, “We’ll be taking him. There’s nothing to be concerned about the papers. There will be new papers tomorrow.”

The captain saluted, and with Becky on one side of him and Paul on the other, Ian was conducted out of the station.

Becky’s heart was breaking; she knew that this wiry creature was no longer a human being in the sense that he had been before, and she did not want to face that and did not want Paul to know it, but she could see by the stricken look on her husband’s face that he did know, and he knew also what he had to do, and he was desolate.

“Mom, Dad, I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

“You know what we do?”

“What do we do?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Paul said.

They were moving down the corridor. Karas was behind them, Jean before them. Two of Karas’s operatives were ahead of him. These men had deployed for a simple reason: Ian was a vampire in custody, and that was a very dangerous situation.

How could they see it? From that faint blush, for one thing. He’d fed—not a lot, or not recently, but he had definitely fed. The second telltale was the way he moved, like a big cat trying to conceal its power.

They got into the back of the SUV. Ian gasped when he saw the iron cage inside, saw that it was open.

“Get in,” Paul said.

“Dad?”

Paul drew his pistol. Becky looked at it. Ian looked at it. And Ian burst into tears. “Was that blood,” he asked, “did she put blood in me?”

The pistol did not waver. “Get in,” Paul repeated, gesturing toward the cage.

“Dad, why?”

“You know.” He stopped, his voice catching. Becky thought, Don’t cry, Paul, don’t start.

“Dad, I’m not an animal. I haven’t done anything except come here without a passport. And what kind of gun is that? Why do you even have a gun?”

Becky took his arm. “Come on.”

“Becky!”

“Paul, we owe him an explanation.”

“We owe him nothing!”

“Baby, have you ever killed anybody?”

“Mom, no. But she—it—it has. And so did Leo. They sucked people’s blood, you guys. It was horrible and gross, it was unbelievable. What are they? And why am I even involved, here?”

“How did you meet them?” Paul asked.

He sounded calmer now, but the gun was still right there, three inches from Ian’s belly. Becky forced herself not to do what her heart screamed at her to do, and just throw herself between child and weapon. At least maybe there was a chance to get him away from the cage.

“Come on,” she said, taking Ian’s hand. She moved toward an empty police car. “We need time,” she told Karas.

He looked toward Paul. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

They got in the back of the car, Ian between them. Becky didn’t want to take her gun out, but she had to treat the situation professionally. She put it in her lap.

Ian looked down at it. Then he looked at the one his dad was holding on him. “Oh, my God,” he whispered. “What have I done?”

“We’re part of a unit that hunts vampires,” Paul said. “That’s the secret this family’s lived with all these years.”

His eyes went slowly from one of them to the other. “
Your
secret!” He fixed on his father. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was no need for you to know.”

“What?
Are you crazy?”

“You know what you are?”

“I—something is very strange and wrong. It’s real wrong.”

“You’re the child of a vampire,” Paul said quietly.

The words hung there.

“Mom?”

What should she say? “I love you.”

“But—is this true? You guys?”

Paul’s gun wavered. For the first time since Becky had known him, his professionalism faltered. He uttered a great, ragged sound that was somewhere between a father’s sobbing anguish and the rage of a predator, and grabbed his son and held him close. “We’ll find a way to help you. We will find a way.”

“What’s happening, Dad, Mom? I’m not okay, am I?” Voice rising:

“I’m
way
not okay!”

“I made a huge mistake. I should have told you, should have warned you. I’ve been a damn, damn—goddammit!”

“Ian, a vampire was made pregnant by your dad. She was…you know—she was killed…and we saved you.”

“Okay, and you killed this vampire, who was my mother.” He laughed, silent agony. “My mother the vampire.”

“We raised you as our own. And hoped—”

“I’d never find out. So that’s why I’ve lived like this, in this trap of a life, stuck at that Podunk schools—so you could keep an eye on me. And what would’ve happened if I turned out to be one of them? You would’ve just blown my brains out one day? Without warning? Mom and Dad?” He looked from one of them to the other. “Are you going to now?”

“Ian, the vampire tricked me. When I made love to her, I didn’t know what she was.”

“That I know to be a lie.”

Becky was confused. “It’s not a lie.” It had been part of the bedrock of their life together. Paul had been seduced. It was all an accident.

“Because you can feel it. You know instantly.”

“How?” Becky asked.

Her son reddened. “Because you can.”

There was a silence as Paul’s face collapsed, revealing his inner agony. “It’s the blood,” he rasped, “the blood controls you.”

“You knew what Blaylock was? And yet you…stayed with her? My God, Paul.”

“I loved her. I loved her so.” His haunted eyes fixed on Ian. “Tell me, son, tell me now. Did you feed?” His finger, Becky saw, strayed to the trigger of his pistol. His eyes were half closed, like a man contemplating a chess move.

“Lilith forced blood down my throat.”

“And you—you…after that, you fed. You fed on your own.”

For a moment, Becky thought that Ian was never going to react. It was like teetering on the edge of a cliff. Then he did—he reared back, his hands became fists, and he screamed, a totally unrestrained, raw bellow of savage terror.

The next instant, he lunged for the car door, trying to cross over her. She knew why, that he wanted to run, was desperate to get out of there, to just run and run—but from what? From the knowledge he had fed, or from the fact that he was longing to, or out of fear of the very idea?

At that moment, the boy who had been in the police station appeared at the door. He was hand in hand with one of the policemen. The child’s solemn presence brought silence. The policeman spoke. “He wishes me to say that God has saved your son from—” He lowered his eyes. “We do not speak of it.”

Ian seemed calmed by the presence of the child, just another Cairo street kid, less than nobody. “He stopped me from what—what I was about to do.”

Paul looked at the boy. “My son didn’t hurt anybody?”

The child replied to Paul in Arabic.

“He wishes me to say that God has saved your son, because of what is in his heart.”

Ian turned toward his father, his back now to Becky. But Becky’s heart was soaring; she knew that he was still with them, that he had not killed.

“Dad—”

Paul’s finger slid off his trigger, hesitated in the air for a second. Then he put his gun away, tucking it deep beneath his shoulder. He opened his arms, and Ian flew into them. Becky put her hands on their shoulders, pressed herself to them.

Such is the way forgiveness happens, because it seeks like this to explode from the soul and declare itself in the world. It seeks the light, this living, brilliant presence that inhabits us. Such was the way Ian forgave his parents, with an embrace and instantly.

“I’m so damn sorry,” Paul said.

“I never hurt anybody, Dad. I never would, not ever.”

The policeman said, “Thank you, sirs and lady.”

The boy was gone. “Where is he?”

The policeman shrugged, smiled. “In Cairo—”

After another silence, Ian said, “Lilith is still out there.”

“Maybe we should let her go this time, son.”

Becky snatched a surprised breath. Paul was tricking him, seeking for him to reveal himself. She wanted to say something, but she kept her jaw clenched. Paul was right. Vampires were very, very clever. Consummate actors. They had to be sure.

“Dad, you can’t let her go. That’s totally the wrong thing to do.”

A smile flickered in his eyes. Becky’s heart leaped again. Another test passed.

Paul made a call. “Let Patterson go,” he said into the phone. “In five minutes. Let her escape. Make it look damned good.” He closed the phone. “Okay, son,” he said, “listen to me.”

“Okay.”

“We might be able to bait a trap for Lilith.”

“Paul?” What was he saying? Should they trust Ian this far, to share their plans with him?

“She’ll come for him.”

“Paul, no.”

“He’s our best chance, Becky.”