Stage Fright (Bit Parts) (33 page)

“Let’s allow her to stay,” Bertrand said.  “Victor, if you would please continue.”

With great effort, Isaiah straightened his spine and squarely met Victor’s eyes.

“I’ll ask you again,” Bertrand said.  “Who ordered you to murder the rogue vampires?”

“And I’ll tell you again,” Isaiah rumbled.  “I did it on my own.”

Something jumped between Victor and Isaiah.  Victor’s red eyes blazed, almost throwing sparks, and Isaiah’s entire body jittered as if he’d been goaded with a cattle prod.  The bulky, old office chair he’d been bound to wobbled as if made from Tinker Toys.  Isaiah’s eyes rolled white in their sockets, and flecks of foam dotted his lips.  I sobbed his name and surged forward, but Peabody’s goons held me back.

After several, long seconds, Victor said, “The memory won’t come.”  He spoke through gritted teeth.  “I can’t tell if he’s lying or not.”

I realized that Isaiah was protecting Hedda.  He’d gotten his kill orders directly from her, but if Bertrand discovered this, Hedda would be guilty of violating the vampire’s prime directive: thou shalt not kill other vampires.  Not even rogues.  If her secret got out, she’d not only lose her grieve; she’d lose her life.

“How many rogues have you killed?” Bertrand demanded.

Victor strained again, and Isaiah bared his teeth against the invasion.  His mighty groan seemed to make the cement walls tremble.  Finally, he cried out, “Fifty-two.”  Every tortured breath seemed to be his last.  “Fifty-two rogues.”

The assembled vampires hissed.  “Fifty-two?” an old woman demanded.  “Fifty-two rogues have been allowed to wander this city!?  The Hoys have not created one rogue in over twenty years!  Do you have any idea how much damage that could cause?”  She glared at Hedda.  “Who’s responsible for this?”

Every eye turned to Hedda who still knelt on the ground.  She hung her head and remained silent.

Bertrand returned his attention to Isaiah.  “To the best of your knowledge, who in Hedda’s grieve is responsible for creating these rogues?”  When Isaiah didn’t reply, the old vampire nodded at Victor who once again stared into Isaiah’s eyes.  Isaiah’s body shook as another spasm rocked it.  As his arms flexed, the cords around his wrists tightened.  When fresh blood dripped onto the floor, Bertrand’s tongue moistened his pale lips, and the assembled vampires shifted hungrily.

Unable to bear any more, I nearly spilled Hedda’s secrets myself.  When I saw Bertrand’s cold eyes were on me, however, I closed my mouth.  This was why he’d let me witness Isaiah’s torture.  Breaking Isaiah was tougher than he’d thought, so he was going after me instead.

Victor sat back with a gasp before regrouping and setting about his work once more.  A few minutes more, and Isaiah, finally broke.  “Marcella!”

Several vampires in the audience applauded politely, as if they were observing a tennis match.  “If only we all had your special gift, Victor,” said one female vampire with black, blunt-cut hair.  “It would make controlling our blood partners so much easier.”  Someone threw a red rose onto the concrete near where Victor sat.

I clenched my fists, loathing them.  For the vampires, Isaiah’s torture was an amusing spectacle, and Hedda’s grief was icing on the cake.  Helpless tears slid down my cheeks.  If only I had a thousand stakes and the strength to wield them!  I would have brought down every one of those monsters.

Isaiah, panting heavily, sagged in the chair.  He blinked against the sweat running into his eyes.  “I swear; that’s all I know.”  He spoke in bursts, as if he’d finished running a marathon.

Bertrand hadn’t moved a muscle, but he seemed to be considering this.

Victor took a handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed it over his face.  He wasn’t sweating, but the gesture seemed to comfort him.  “I can keep trying to crack him, but I don’t believe he has the information we want.”

“Ask the young woman,” Bertrand said.

Isaiah came alive at once, struggling against his fetters.  “No!”

Victor, too, protested.  “I’ve already talked with Miss Jaber several times.  She’s told me everything she knows.”

Bertrand’s eyes slid from Isaiah to Victor to Hedda before finally coming to rest on me.  “I’m sure she’s told you a number of things.  Including what a wonderful playwright you are.”  Several vampires twittered.  “She’s a smart girl.  She knew that flattery would soften you, Victor.”

Victor’s hands clenched into fists.

“That’s not true!” I said.  “I
do
think Victor’s play is amazing.  He’s a brilliant playwright!”

“Really?  Then why did you refuse to become his blood partner?” Bertrand demanded.  He regarded Isaiah’s limp form.  “It’s because of the vampire killer, isn’t it?  Your heart belongs to him.”

Knowing that anything I said would only make things worse, I kept my mouth shut.

At my silence, Victor’s expression turned to stone.  My knees trembled.  Not only was this vampire a jilted lover, he was also about to become my torturer.

To my surprise, however, Victor said, “As I told you before, the matter should be settled as privately as possible.  Send your guests away so that Cassie won’t have to suffer the humiliation.”

The collection of vampires murmured angrily, like ticket holders who’ve been told the concert is canceled.  Bertrand’s lips thinned.  “Which of them should I send away?  Your maker, Sylvester Hoy?  Or perhaps
his
maker, Maude Belmont?”

Victor twitched and glanced at the crowd.  Although he ruled over Bertrand and Hedda, he was clearly outranked by the others.  Finally, he relented with a sigh.  “Go ahead.  Release this one, and tie Cassandra to the chair.”

Three vampires came forward to drag Isaiah away.  With a roar, Isaiah freed one arm and swung his massive fist, catching the closest vampire in the nose.  Bones crunched.  When the second vampire re-pinned the arm, Isaiah’s leg lashed out between the third vampire’s legs.  A fourth vampire darted behind Isaiah, chopping his hands against either side of Isaiah’s neck.  My vampire hunter crumpled to the ground.  The vampires clapped and cheered.

“An impressive display,” Bertrand said, rubbing his upper lip thoughtfully.

When Isaiah roused himself for round two, I shouted, “Stop!  Please!  I’ll do this willingly.”  I cautiously approached the old, office chair.  When I sat, Isaiah’s blood soaked into the seat of my jeans.  One of Bertrand’s bodyguards picked up the discarded electrical cord, ready to tie me in.  I shrank back.  “That isn’t necessary.  I won’t run away.”

“It
is
necessary,” Victor said tersely.

I kept my head up and my eyes on Isaiah as my arms and legs were bound to the chair.  My bladder was uncomfortably full.  Nerves, no doubt.  The thought of asking the vampires for a potty break made me smile a little.  At my smile, something shone in Isaiah’s face.  Pride.  He thought I was being brave.  If only he knew what I’d really been thinking.

Victor’s razor-sharp stare drove the humor from the situation.  Instantly, my smile faded.  “Bertrand is going to ask you several questions, and you are to answer honestly.”  He paused and licked his lips.  “Then I’ll check to see if you’re lying.”

Adrenaline fizzed and popped in my bloodstream.  No way would the questioning be that simple.

“How long have you known Hedda Widderstrom?”  Bertrand’s dry voice scraped my nerves like sandpaper.

“Since last Saturday.  Wait, no, I mean I knew who she was before that.”  My thoughts jumbled.  “When I started working at the Bleak Street last July, I saw her bust in the lobby.  So, technically, I knew who she was back then.  But we hadn’t really been introduced until the night
County Dracula
closed which was a week ago.  Well, actually, four days ago.”

“Cassandra, relax.”  Victor put his hand on my knee, but instead of settling me down, his cold, heavy touch sent my heart racing.  Still, the softness in his eyes made things a little easier.  Maybe he wasn’t my enemy after all.  I bit my lip and nodded.

“Her oafish answer speaks for itself,” Bertrand said.  “She’s obviously telling the truth.”  Several vampires cackled.  You should do standup, Bertie, I thought sourly.

“During your service to Hedda, did you ever observe conversations between Hedda and the vampire killer, Isaiah Griffin?”

I bristled at the word ‘service’.  From the way Bertrand spoke it, it sounded more like ‘slavery.’

Neither Hedda nor Victor’s eyes gave anything away.  I swallowed.  “Yes, I overheard a conversation between the two of them.”

“Where?”

“At the Muse on the night of Luquin Astor’s, uh, induction.”

“And?”

I thought more closely about the question.  When I’d eavesdropped at the Muse, Hedda and Isaiah’s conversation had been cloaked in innuendo.  I hadn’t understood a word of it.  Maybe playing dumb was the best way to go.  “Hedda told Isaiah she didn’t want any interruptions to the ceremony.  She wanted everything to go smoothly.”

I relaxed when the vampire courtroom didn’t buzz in alarm.  Apparently, no one seemed bothered that Hedda had asked a human for protection.

“Have you ever been threatened by a member of the Widderstrom grieve?”

The question was like a douse of cold water in the face.  I gasped.  I’d known this would be asked sooner or later, but hadn’t expected it so soon.

“Answer truthfully,” Victor muttered.

I forced my eyes away from Isaiah and Hedda.  Marcella was a monster, but she was
their
monster.

“Well?”

I nodded, not daring to speak.

“Who was it?”

I glanced at Hedda who continued to kneel and bow her head.  True, she’d knowingly stolen Marcella’s voice, but my honest answer would only bring her more pain.  I couldn’t be that cruel.

“You already know the answer to that,” I muttered to Victor.  Not only had Isaiah just confessed that his sister was a menace, but Victor himself had watched Marcella go after me.

“I know part of the answer,” he said, “but what else can you tell me?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t play around,” Victor counseled.  “Be honest.”

My body trembled.  “I
am
being honest.  I swear it!”  He frowned, clearly not believing me.  Geoffrey was wrong; this wasn’t a kangaroo court – it was a witch hunt.  No matter how much I protested my innocence, they’d already decided I was guilty.

Victor gave a regretful sigh.  Then he slammed into my head with the force of a semi-truck.

Having someone ram his way into your mind is like having a platoon of armed storm troopers crash through your front door to search your house.  Victor overturned every memory, exposing my most intimate secrets.  My first kiss, my first sexual experience, my hidden crush on Andrew – all of it was laid bare before him.

I panicked.  My gut reaction was to fling up my arms and cover my face, but because I was tightly bound, even that small comfort was denied.  As I struggled, the electrical cord bit into my wrists.  I gasped in pain.

Victor continued to plunder my brain, tossing aside my collection of beautiful memories.  My mother reading bedtime stories to me, my father pinning a corsage to my prom dress, the last time I saw my grandmother alive – these things were scattered like glass beads that Victor trampled as he searched for the truth.

Before I could stop him, he found the memory he’d been looking for.  He withdrew from my ransacked mind.  My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe.  My brain felt shattered.

“Marcella threatened her,” Victor said.  “She withdrew blood from an unwilling human, and she attempted to coerce Cassandra into giving up her shine.”

I glared at him from tear-filled eyes.  “I
told
you there was nothing you didn’t already know!”

A harsh, metallic sound like the creak of rusty springs filled the room.  Bertrand’s laughter.  “Ah, Hedda, my
dear
.  You’ve always told me that you hold to a higher ideal, yet you can’t even keep your own lover in check.”  He abruptly stood and approached his ex-wife.  Turning to the audience, he said, “You’ve all heard her preach, have you not?  Human souls are sacred.  Human souls should not be taken without permission.”  He pulled her to her feet.  “On the night I turned you, you fed like a real vampire.”  His obsidian eyes glittered.  “Remember?”

She stared at the floor.

“Yet, here you are, standing trial before these witnesses.  Why?  Because you
failed
.”  Again, the grating, metallic laughter.  “Your own lover has been undisciplined.  She’s stealing shine
and
creating monsters who could lead humans to the doors of our grieves!”

Almost tenderly, Bertrand tucked a lock Hedda’s black hair behind her ear.  “I always told you that your affections were unnatural.  Men are made to love women, and women to love men.  I’ve been patient with you over the years, but I can’t stand by any longer.  For you to love a woman is one thing, but for you to allow your female lover to create a rogue is pure perversion.”

Hedda blinked and swallowed.

“Maybe if you’d paid more attention to your creation, she would have served you better.  Loved you better.”  He pulled Hedda very close to him.  “Forgiven you for ruining her lovely voice.”  This, finally, drew a reaction.  A single tear leaked from Hedda’s eye.

The other vampires hooted and clapped.  A few laughed.  “Come on, Hedda,” one shouted.  “Show us how to live peacefully among the humans!”  More laughter.

I now understood why Bertrand had brought in so many guests to witness Hedda’s demise.  It as payback for the play she’d written about him.  Bertrand didn’t just want to steal Hedda’s grieve, he wanted to steal her dignity.

A short vampire with a face like a bulldog stepped down from the top riser and pushed his way to the front of the assembly.  “I think we’ve heard enough.”  The vampire had uneven front teeth that pushed against his upper lip.  Hedda wilted under his scalding glare.  “Bertrand is right.  Hedda is not in control of her grieve.  She did not stop Marcella from creating rogues, nor did she hold Marcella to the rules of her grieve.”

“I disagree.”  A different vampire, this one a teenage girl, held up her hand.  Her fluting voice rose above the grumble of the assembly.  “The question isn’t whether Marcella is dangerously out of control, but whether or not Hedda knew about the hazards.  Hedda is only guilty if she has been covering up her paramour’s crimes.”