Evelese dimpled, watching Dameon's face ."Our mother was only an iota more shocked than you, Mr. LaFaim." She re-arranged the white-blonde locks over her shoulders and her grin broadened. "Poor Hollie and I shock and disturb everyone. A tragedy." The glow in her eyes belied her words. She adored upsetting and unsettling everyone.
A slow, weird smile inched across Hollie's face. He tossed the hair out of his eyes. He seemed unable stop himself from nearly mirroring Evelese's actions. His pupils contracted as he stared at Dameon. He said nothing, the smile fixed on his face.
"Do tell, Mr. Famous LaFaim." Evelese deliberately mispronounced his last name in the way most Americans did. She hugged herself and gave a fake shiver. "Tell us all about how you killed the randy little bitch. Was it very messy with lots of blood? Did she shrivel up like an overcooked hot dog?" Evelese was breathing hard as she leaned forward. "Tell, tell. We want to hear every itty-bitty, little juicy, yummy detail."
Hollie shook his head. "That's not fair, Lesey. Tatiana wasn't a bitch. She was just strong." He looked dreamy for a second. "Very strong."
"Don't be a tiresome twit," Evelese snapped, the eager smile shriveling on her face. "You never slept or drank with her." She tossed her head. "Tatiana never gave you the time of day."
Hollie came alive with bristling anger, his mouth quivering and his body twitching. He cracked his knuckles one by one as he spoke, rage jerking each word. "You don't know everything I do. I don't tell you everything." His voice was racing faster and faster as he ranted on about his sister's arrogance, how she didn't know all the details about his personal life, how he was his own man and how he didn't need her permission to make his own decisions.
In seconds, they were snarling face-to-face, fangs starting to appear, eyes fiery. The two of them were truly menacing, large, feral and fierce-looking. They had forgotten Dameon's presence, or so it seemed. They were nose to nose, growling and hot eyed, and it looked as if any minute it would get physical.
Watching through narrowed eyes, a pleasant smile on his face, Dameon presumed that the whole display was for his benefit. He didn't move a muscle.
Suddenly, as if a director off stage shouted "cut," the fight stopped. Sister and brother relaxed, anger gone as if it had never existed, and leaned back with cheerful smiles in the identical pose.
"You must forgive us, Mr. Famous," Evelese said in a sing-song, little-girl voice. She shook her finger at Hollie. "We're being a pair of rudies. We're just so excited about meeting you, an important mind master. You'll tell us your story, won't you, Mr. Fame?" It wasn't really a question. She gave him a demure look beneath the extravagant lashes. Again, he caught a whiff of her sharp scent. Her face loomed unnaturally large. He couldn't catch his breath.
Before he could try and respond, the room began to recede. Lights swam before his eyes as darkness started to take over. The pain that had been lurking and waiting shot up and roared; His head felt as if it would shatter. His bones contracted, pulling inward as if squeeze out every last ounce of body fluid. Nerve-endings screeched. He rose and struggled to regain his composure. Too late—the room spun wildly and the floor slammed up to meet him.
Evelese bent over him. Her long, wintry hair brushed against him. Her breath touched his face, sweet and yet decayed. She giggled. Dameon found his throat had closed. He tried to call Jen's name, but not a sound came from his lips.
"Goody, goody," squealed Evelese. "He's going to be all mine—my own little puppy dog. My own toy mind master—my own little pet."
Hollie made some indistinct noise of complaint.
"Oh, don't be such a whiner, Hollie. As long as I'm happy, you're happy."
Her whisper was hot against his ear. "You're all mine, Dameon LaFaim. I'll take care of you. Don't you worry. I'll take care of you."
Chapter Twenty-six
He was never fully unconscious, though the twins assumed he was. Through the downy darkness of his near-coma, he was still vaguely aware of his environment. Dimly, he realized only two days had passed, though time seemed frozen and meaningless. Part of him struggled for dominance and control, desperate to free himself from this dangerous depravity that was hungrily surrounding him. The rest of him was too tired and sick to care.
He heard the rustlings and whispers of Evelese and Hollie moving in and out of the room where they had brought him. Music thundered ceaselessly. Once, he thought he heard the voices of the two cross-dressers he'd met earlier, eager but subservient. If it was them, Evelese dispatched them swiftly with a quick command.
He could smell more clearly the source of decay and bitterness, emanating from the twins' bodies. The two were chock full of drugs with a veritable rainbow of poisons coursing through their systems. He was positive they'd ingested the drugs while drinking blood, which meant they were preying on addicts. And it wasn't just marijuana. It was cocaine, heroin, crack, mescaline and LSD. His extra-sensory perceptions were still working while all else seemed to have failed. Sickened, he tried to imagine how the lamias could stand to ingest such corrupted blood.
It could only mean one thing—they were so debauched themselves that they no longer worried about maintaining good vampire health. Black and silver spots danced behind his eyelids. Dameon felt his lungs deflate and sink. Oxygen and the very essence of his life force was fading away. His body screamed for the treatment as it ate itself alive. This hell he was trapped in seemed eternal.
Suddenly, Evelese's long, sharply beautiful face was hovering over his. Even without the kabuki makeup, her face was unnaturally white. He could smell the heat from her breath. She was panting hard and staring at him without blinking while Hollie lingered back in the shadows, muttering and whispering. A third smaller form cowered and shrank behind Hollie.
Dameon could hear a pitiful whimpering noise coming from the shorter figure. Evelese ignored Hollie and the stranger. With thin, serpentine fingers, she began to stroke Dameon's face. As her caresses moved down the length of his body, a smile stretched her lips and her eyes sparkled.
"He's my prize, Hollie. My broken prize. Isn't it wonderful—a lamia capturing her own mind master, even if he is a tad damaged." Her frighteningly sweet voice rose with excitement. "Hollie, you'll help me fix him. I want him, Hollie, I want him! You won't disappoint your widdle Sissie now, will you?" Her voice grew grotesquely babyish as she turned to walk her fingers up and down the side of Hollie's face.
Hollie shook his head silently. He stepped forward, dragging the smaller shape behind him. Evelese spun around, long, pale hair whipping with her movement, and pounced on the reluctant creature, which began to plead and sob in earnest. Ignoring the entreaties, she shoved the form forward and pressed its arm up against Dameon's mouth.
Dameon's focus sharpened and cleared, and he was looking into the eyes of a terrified human, a young male still in his teens. Despite the ravages from drugs and other abuses, the face was childish and soft, the eyes tear-filled, the drooping mouth opening and beginning to wail in earnest. The hugely dilated pupils revealed a previous intoxication, which, unfortunately for the human, was wearing off as sobriety abruptly set in.
"Wait, Lesey," Hollie interrupted suddenly. "If you do that, the kid will die, or worse, turn. You know how it is with vampans. We can't afford to bring another vampire into the world."
The terrified youth began to look relieved when Evelese shrugged her shoulders with a cheerful smile.
"So?" Her eyes, huge and glowing, brushed over the trembling human who turned deathly white. "We won't let a transformation happen. He's definitely not the right material anyway." She tossed back her mermaid hair and proceeded to push the human's arm back toward Dameon's mouth.
Sickened beyond endurance, Dameon shook his head and flung the skinny, quivering arm away. He tried to sit up. He could he dredge up the power to free the poor human. Instead, with one hand, Evelese forced him back against the plush pillows and, with the other, thrust the human aside, sending him soaring several yards through the air. The youth tumbl
ed to the floor and remained huddled in tight, little ball. Dameon, watching, stifled a groan of frustration. For a second, all was silent.
Then, Evelese tsk-tsked and sighed, as if Dameon were a child throwing a tantrum. "Well, for Petey Pie's sake! Of all the silliness." She put her hands on her hips. "Oh well, then, Hollie, we'll just work around this little conundrum like we always do."
"What, you can't—you can't mean what I think you mean...that's just for you and me. Lesey, that's private," Hollie cried.
"Don't be a dope. You know the drill." Evelese rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Get that ready." She pointed to the shrinking, sobbing youth. "And I mean now, right this moment."
"Lesey, I don't think..."
She interrupted him. "Of course you don't, dummkopf. That's why I do. Now open some of its veins. And snap to it."
Hollie started to speak again, but instead, scowled and sealed his lips together. As lightly as a cat tosses up a mouse, he scooped up the young human with one enormous paw. Hollie held the dangling youth in front of him and sunk his teeth into the frail arm. The sound of flesh tearing and the escalating screech of the human filled Dameon's ears with sickening clarity. Ominously, the screeching was silenced. Hollie carried the flaccid body over to Dameon's side, once again, when Evelese stopped him.
"We'll have to do this another way. Mr. Famous is too special for an ordinary feeding. He's a beautiful vampan," she said, patting Dameon's face. Without moving her gaze, she stretched out a hand. "Pass that to me."
Hollie handed her the limp human, and watched as Evelese slurped up the blood. She paused, took a mouthful, and didn't swallow. Pursing her lips and pushing out her cheeks, she descended on Dameon, her face filling his vision. Too helpless to move, he could do nothing as she pinched his nostrils shut and forced open his mouth. Fastening her mouth over his, she spat in the human's blood she'd been carrying like a mother bird feeding its young. "Open wide, my darling mind master," she simpered. She giggled y. "Time to take your medicine."
Revolted beyond thought, he could no nothing but swallow the tainted blood, and feeling his body eagerly awaken at the blood's arrival, he was struck with such dread that he prayed for death. He could feel the blood crawl through his system, sating and, at the same time, destroying his cells. He broke into an unnatural sweat. Evelese wouldn't be satisfied with this, he knew. She would hold onto him like he was a broken but favorite toy, and do what she wished with him.
He could only hope he would gain enough power back to free himself from her clutches long enough to end things his own way. His mother's face flashed before his eyes. All of those years of hope and hard work, all of that time and energy, and it was all wasted. He'd destroyed his mother’s life-long efforts. There was Jen, too. But it was better this way. To drag her into this world would be unforgivable. As long as he was what he was, he couldn't have Jen.
Faces peered in the doorway. Nervous giggles and avid curiosity. He heard the abject, fawning pleas and supplications for blood, and heard Evelese's cruel, amused reply, vague and tantalizing with promise. He had to get out of this hell house. The voices begging for blood were human ones.
Dameon had to escape or die trying. Ingo, too trusting and kind, had let these monsters in, never suspecting that they weren't the benign misfits that he so enjoyed giving safe haven to. Misfits like Dameon himself. Ingo wouldn't return in time, nor would Marika.
Evelese was again suctioning her lips over his with another dose of vile blood. She squeezed his nostrils and rubbed his throat just like someone does to a dog to force him to take his medicine. Powerless, Dameon could do nothing but drink. These lamias were worse than anything he'd ever imagined.
As Evelese petted his hair, Dameon wanted to roar with frustration. He was lost in a world more monstrous than he'd ever feared or hated. In all of his worst nightmares, out of his deepest fears of what he would become, he never dreamed of a situation as appalling as this. Regret surged through him, and he began to wish he had not embarked on this path of annihilation.
It was too late now. His flesh shrank, though, to feel Evelese's corrupted lips again on his own when all he could think of was the sweet salvation of Jen's when she had kissed him long ago.
The next two days spun by in a dark, fetid, formless swirl, and Dameon's only relief came when the insane twins passed out from their excesses and over-indulgence. Otherwise, he was forced to watch them and their coterie of lesser vampires cavort and debauch themselves with their hapless human pawns. The odors of fresh blood, perfumed sweaty bodies and various drugs being smoked and cooked turned his weakened stomach.
Evelese had given him just enough blood to keep him alive, but not enough to give him his strength back. The he-she’s he had met earlier seemed to have disappeared, only to be replaced by other interchangeable faces and bodies. Dameon could only hope that the two drag queens departed by their own volition. It was hard to know what happened to these pitiful dregs of humanity, and sad to realize that no one wondered or cared about what became of them.
Once in the middle of the night, he saw two of Evelese's minions sneaking out through the back door, carrying between them a long, bulky bundle wrapped heavily in plastic. They disappeared outside and returned hours later without the bundle. The next morning, he saw one of them squatting on the floor and scrubbing at dark stains on the carpet with a soapy sponge.
For the most part, Evelese had kept her fawning vampire court out of Dameon's room, though he'd spotted a few faces hovering greedily around the doorway and scented their sick, contaminated odor. It amazed him because these same vampires would fight to the end to preserve their immortality and powers, and yet, at the same time, jeopardize their sanity and health.
Evelese was back in the room, her long, attenuated body swirling through the shadows, her ice blonde hair brushing Dameon's face. He desperately wanted to spit the hair out, to thrust her sickening presence away from him. His body, weak and racked with relentless pain, would not allow him such brave moves. Maybe, he thought with desperate gallows humor, I would have been better off letting Tatiana destroy me.
Evelese's pupils were constricted and her white hand was as cold as frost as she caressed his jaw, stroking the three day beard. She had announced that she liked him with a beard and had refused to let him shave.
"Soon, my precious, soon," she whispered, "you'll be ready." She leaned her face against his. "You'll be ready to drink from me, my little package of handsome fame—my own toy vampan. And you know what that means." She giggled shrilly. "You'll be mine forever."
Dameon felt his heart shrivel within him. Crazy Evelese was right. If he drank from her veins, he would be hers for eternity. But he would never let that happen. He would kill himself first.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The car began to heave and pitch wildly, and Jen clutched her seat and sucked her stomach in. Not normally prone to motion sickness, she found the Midway train could push her to new levels. The tracks were old and in disrepair, especially south of the Mason-Dixon line. The Mississippi landscape flew by, a dense green blur. The landscape was monotonous, nothing but dense thicket, swamps and the infrequent tiny, dirt-poor town.
Jen squirmed, tempted to walk and stretch. But the narrow aisle between seats didn't allow for much freedom, especially with other passengers strolling back and forth. Especially with the train jouncing over such rough tracks.
She touched her necklace. The silver star and cross were cool against her skin. But, the ring wasn't; it seemed oddly warm, and, at times, even scorching. A bad sign, she was sure. As the was the constant image of Dameon lost, drowned forever in the sea of red. I know that dream means something is very wrong, and now the ring echoes it, she thought, tense with worry.
Ever since the nightmare of blood red, she had been weighted down with such bottomless dread that she could barely stand it. Jen closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. Her nerves were seriously jangled. Save Dameon, came the tiny whisper inside of her head, over and over.
Dameon was in trouble, serious trouble. He was alive. She had to tell herself that.
"Miss, oh, miss," the stocky, officious young porter was shaking her shoulder. Jen foggily opened her eyes and barely registered his words. "...don't want to miss the last call," the porter was babbling.
Jen gasped and blinked, her heart thundering in her chest. Her suddenly damp hands clutched her purse. What if he demanded to look inside of her bags? Jen licked cotton-dry lips and forced a ghastly smile as she peered up into his round, beaming face. The porter loudly repeated his announcement that lunch was being served.
Jen shook her head, hoping Mr. Bufford would disappear. "Thanks, but I'm not hungry." Why doesn't he leave? she thought savagely.
"Now, now, you need a good meal to keep you going," he said archly, baring his teeth at her. “Besides, I can't let you miss out on Betty-Lou's meat loaf. It's homemade—all my passengers love it. It's real popular. You don't eat now, your tummy will be grumbling in an hour, and then you'll be out of luck." He wasn't budging until she consented to eat the damned lunch.
Jen finally nodded and watched as the porter sauntered off. She was annoyed with herself for meekly promising to go to the dining car. You wimp, how can you expect to make a stand in New Orleans if you can't stand up to this pompous little ass? She shivered, suddenly chilled to the bone. Her fingers flexed around the handle of her purse. She squeezed it thoughtlessly. Inside the bag, along with her wallet and makeup, was “it.”
Calvin had urged, no insisted, she bring it. Almost three weeks ago after her terrible nightmare, she had written and overnighted a letter to Calvin in care of the attorneys who managed the sale of Dameon's house. Somehow, she'd never thought of Calvin as a contact, especially since she knew him only by his first name.
Kiss Noir (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 26
