Thirst No. 4 (17 page)

Freddy shakes his head. “She’s the mother of my child.”

“Does Tom know the kid’s not his?” Seymour asks.

“He’s not stupid,” Freddy says, annoyed.

“Are you?” I ask gently.

“I know what you’re thinking. That I’m obsessed with her. Okay, maybe I do still care for her. But I know how dangerous she is. I see her for what she is.”

“Do you see your daughter for what she is?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“Isn’t she a member of the Cradle?” I ask. “One of these preplanned super-psychic children?”

Freddy appears stunned by the idea. “Jolie? No, she can’t be one of them. Cindy wouldn’t use her that way. Not our own kid.” He turns to Mary. “Would she?”

Mary is sympathetic. “It’s not your fault if Jolie is. Nor is it Jolie’s fault.”

“I’m surprised you let the relationship continue,” Paula says to Mary. If she’s thinking of getting a rise out of Mary, she doesn’t know the woman. Mary doesn’t bat an eye.

“I encourage the relationship,” she says. “It helps Freddy keep an eye on them.”

“So you know all their secrets?” I ask Mary.

She looks me straight in the eye. “I’ve seen what that Cradle can do.” She pauses. “Tell them, Freddy.”

He shudders. “It happened in this house, not long after Cindy learned I was seeing Mary. We had just finished making love. Mary was dozing and I came into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Then it struck, I didn’t know what the hell it was. It swept over me with a force that’s difficult to describe. Suddenly, my will was no longer my own. I was a puppet. I picked up a knife. I needed it because all I could think about was how good it would feel to stab Mary. To see her bleed. To hear her scream. I returned to the bedroom and held the blade over her like a guillotine. Right then, there wasn’t a soul on
earth that could have talked me out of killing her. Fortunately, I stumbled as I neared the bed and bumped the mattress. Mary woke up, saw what was happening, and shouted my name. It didn’t help. I tried to stab her, but she rolled off the bed and jumped up.”

“I kept calling his name but something in his eyes told me he was gone,” Mary interrupts. “Yet it was more than that. There was something in that room that wasn’t human. It was a devil. It wanted me to suffer because it craved my pain. I sensed its hunger.”

“How did you stop him?” Seymour asks her.

“I ran out the back. He chased after me with the knife but he was so crazed, he kept bumping into things. I didn’t know what to do. I acted on instinct. When he ran into the well, I snuck up behind him and pushed him over the side. I knew he’d survive the fall into the water. The shock of it must have cured him of his madness. A minute later he was calling for me to throw him down the rope.”

“That’s an amazing story,” I say, feeling a huge piece of it was missing.

“It’s true,” Freddy says. “The IIC doesn’t just have enough money to take over the world. They have a tool that can control the most powerful men and women on earth. They have to be exposed. That’s the only way they can be stopped.”

“Do you honestly feel that will do any good?” Seymour asks.

“You have to try. Someone has to,” Freddy says weakly.

“But we should warn you that they own several major newspapers and TV stations,” Mary says. “The instant you speak against them, your lives will be in danger.”

“Is that why you’ve kept silent all this time?” I ask.

Freddy looks away. “I wanted to keep Mary safe.”

It strikes me then that I’m missing something very important in our conversation. It’s right in front of me but I can’t see it. The not knowing drives me nuts.

I stand. “This is all very interesting, but I need time to digest it. Would it be possible if we spent another night here?”

Mary smoothly climbs to her feet, leaving Freddy on the floor with his assortment of beer bottles. Mary gives me a shrewd look. Yet she appears genuinely happy with my request.

“We were hoping you would stay,” she says.

A
nother night with Seymour in the guesthouse. He sits smoking, unhappy that we’re not on a plane to New York to try out Charlie’s new vaccine.

“What are we doing here?” he asks.

“We’re here because they want us to stay.”

“You invited us to stay this time.”

“You have to look deeper than what was said. Mary is anxious to keep us here. So is Freddy. Why? What’s their motive?”

“Freddy has a long history with Brutran and the IIC. He knows they’re dangerous. So does Mary. I think they were telling us the truth when they said they want to help us expose them.”

“They barely asked about our credentials.”

Seymour hesitates. “That was odd, I admit. But they know I’m a famous writer, and Professor Sharp obviously gave us a thumbs-up.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know why. If you doubt them so much, then let’s leave. We can drive to the airport now, charter a plane.” He scratches the back of his hands. “The vaccine we have is not doing the trick.”

“I’ll give you another shot.”

“Paula already gave me one. She gave Shanti a booster, too. Matt’s right when he says Charlie’s got to try out his new vaccine on someone who’s infected. It’s the only way he’ll know if it’s working. And we can argue all you want about Matt’s list of priorities versus yours, but Matt is not stupid. The Telar pose the immediate threat.”

“Even if Charlie’s developed a working vaccine, our position has not changed. We’re still small and weak. We need an ally, a powerful one. It’s got to be the IIC.”

Seymour shakes his head. “The more I hear about that bitch, the less I want to knock on her door.”

“I’ll do the knocking.”

“Yeah, right, the rest of us will just wait in the car. Sita, this isn’t like you. Usually, you see a problem and you deal with it. The last few days, you seem like a different person.”

“I am different. Do you know how much I hate being handicapped like this?”

“You still have the strength of a dozen men.”

“When I died, I had the strength of a hundred.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You want me to take over, I know, lead the troops forward. But we’re missing something here, I feel it.” I pause. “There’s no way Mary freed Freddy of the Cradle by shoving him in that well.”

“That did sound awfully convenient. So they lied to us on that point? That’s what people do, they tell white lies. I still think they’re good people, and Freddy did give us a profound insight into the Cradle. Frankly, that part where he explained how he developed a working astrological system blew my mind.”

“It was impressive. But he never explained how he got the arrays to talk. He barely spoke about Tom, Wendy, and Noel. They were always in the background, like props.”

“I noticed that. It made me wonder.”

“Do you think Freddy’s still under Brutran’s control?”

Seymour sucks on his cigarette. “I think he’s still in love with her, and he’s not as ready as he thinks to bring her down. He suffered big-time when he lost Henry. I can see how he would be attached to Jolie. Even if her mother is the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“That little girl gave me the creeps.”

“I remember. Still, this is all talk. I want to leave. So does Shanti. Why don’t you let us fly back to New York and try out the new vaccine? If you think you still have something to learn here, then stay here with Paula.”

“I’m not ready to break up the group yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s give it one more day here. I feel . . . I feel like something’s going to happen.”

“Good or bad.”

“Both.” I pick up Yaksha’s book and hug it to my chest. “I’m going to search for more secret sections. I can do it outside, the moon’s bright. Do you think you can sleep?”

He starts scratching before I finish my question. “When I get tired enough, I’ll pass out. You remember to sleep, too. Teri’s body needs to rest.”

I step toward the door. “I won’t be gone long.”

“Good night, Sita. Love you.”

“I love you more,” I say.

Outside is a dream. The branches on the surrounding trees sway in a warm breeze. A myriad of moonbeams dance like at a celestial party where angels mingle with intoxicated fairies. There’s a sweet odor in the air I’ve not been treated to in ages. Jasmine; it reminds me of Vrindavana, Krishna’s forest. There, the jasmine flowers grew wild on the banks of the Yamuna River. It’s been centuries, and yet I remember those woods as if it was yesterday. The cows grazing in the meadows. The gopis laughing in their saris, talking endlessly about their Lord.

I wished right then I had been one of them, a gopi, free to leave this world for Vaikuntha, Krishna’s supreme abode, at the end of a normal life. Yet I recall how Krishna left Vrindavana and the gopis when he was still a young man, and never
returned. Later, it was said he did it to force them to suffer the pangs of separation, so they would think of him and nothing else. Even at the moment of death.

“I called your name when I died,” I whisper to the mysterious night. “Why didn’t you take me?”

No one answers and I’m not surprised. I don’t really care what John said about my duty being left unfinished. I still feel I’ve been cheated.

The night is filled with unanswered questions that call to me. All my doubts, my fears, my hopes—I feel as if they have gathered nearby but still hide in the shadows so I can’t easily confront them. The fragrant air feels pregnant with the possibility of discovery, but I’m not sure I want it to speak to me, for I fear that whatever it reveals will kill what little hope I have left.

Like the previous night, I take the spray bottle that contains a mixture of well water and my blood and sit with my back beside the stone well. Yet I have hardly opened the book when I close it again. The smell of jasmine is stronger here than elsewhere, and I realize it’s because it’s coming from the well.

Standing, I peer down into the hole, the sharp angle of the moonlight allowing me to see no deeper than thirty feet. Even with my vampire sight, I cannot pierce the darkness beyond that point. Plus I hear a trickle of water, and it would seem a foolish idea to climb down into a well that’s already flooded, even with help of the nearby rope and bucket.

Yet I wonder at the source of the smell.

Why it should come out of the earth. Why tonight.

As I mentioned, my hearing has been my most trustworthy sense over the years. I suspect if I simply drop the bucket, let the rope spin out at full speed, the sound of it hitting the water might tell me something about the structure of the well. There are a hundred yards of wooded land between the well and the house. I doubt the others will hear the splash, and if they do it won’t be the end of the world.

I untie the knot that holds the bucket in place and let it drop. The well’s wooden shaft spins wildly, for a long time. The well is deep, more than fifty yards, half a football field. Finally I hear the splash as the bucket strikes the water.

How does the noise echo in the deep?

To my surprise, the sound doesn’t bounce around the stone hole and pour out the top. Rather, the noise dissipates at the floor of the well as it spreads out underground. It makes no sense. Of course, neither does the smell. It’s decided. . . .

I have to climb down and see what the hell is going on.

I return Yaksha’s book to the car before I proceed.

Teri’s body is a hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle. Before I changed her into a vampire, the girl had less than 5 percent body fat and spent a fair amount of time in each workout stretching. She was addicted to yoga and used to brag that her stride was as long as it was because of her flexibility.

Bottom line—Teri left me with a perfect physique for rock
climbing. Grabbing the rope, I hoist myself over the edge, plant my feet on one side of the well and my back on the other. I’m able to adopt this stance thanks to the well’s narrowness. It’s less than four feet across.

I’m in no hurry, I descend slowly. As I pass out of sight of the moon, my vampire eyes adapt further and I can still see the perfect spots to jam my rubber soles against the uneven rocks. The pressure on my upper back is uncomfortable but bearable. My arms remain strong, although I find myself breathing hard. The humidity in the air increases as the sound of the trickling water grows louder.

Approximately ten feet from the water’s surface, the walls of the well suddenly vanish and I’m left hanging in midair, clinging to the rope. There’s a reddish glow off to my right, but it’s so faint it doesn’t allow me to see my surroundings. Nevertheless, I think I’ve already solved part of the mystery of the well. Its source of water is not your normal underground stream. I’m in a cave, with an open brook running beneath my feet.

I can’t tell how deep the stream is, but I hope it has a shore. Like most newborn vampires, I can’t stand the cold, and I sure as hell don’t want to get wet. I grip the rope tightly and kick out with my legs, trying to build up enough momentum so I can swing back and forth. Since I have nothing to kick off of, I struggle like an astronaut caught in weightlessness. Nevertheless, after a few minutes of hard kicking, I’m swinging freely, and I finally build up enough courage to let go.

I land on smooth
dry
stone. The underground stream does indeed have a shore, although it’s narrow, two feet wide at best, good enough to support me. I take a few minutes to stretch my arms and legs, and free myself of the cramp in my upper back.

The glow fascinates me. I hike along the bank of the stream, drawn by its haunting color. The glow would be invisible to most humans, but there’s a reason for its faintness. The cave winds left and right, making it impossible for the light to travel in a straight line.

As I turn a particularly sharp corner, it suddenly grows in intensity and I recognize its source. The light is created by a torch, or a series of torches. Its color and a faint crackling sound give it away.

Minutes later I enter a well-lit cavern.

It’s possible the cave’s a natural structure, but this space is definitely the work of human hands. The dome-shaped roof is too smooth; it expands steadily in width and height, creating a large egg-shaped grotto. The six-foot-wide stream flows through the center, while a dozen burning torches reach out from the curved walls.