by C. T. Adams
The bell rang and the elevator doors opened. It was time to beard the dragon in her lair.
12
The view from the thirtieth floor of a skyscraper is phenomenal. Tom and I had been escorted by the receptionist into a small conference room. The entire west wall from the waist up was windows, giving a glorious panorama of the Rocky Mountains in the distance. The clouds weren’t even this high up—I could see their tops, slumming around the twenty-third floor. The ground seemed very far below. The pedestrians scurrying to work weren’t much bigger than ants, cars and trucks were the size of the Micro Machines I’d given Bryan for Christmas when he was five. I sat in a very comfortable burgundy leather chair, one of four spaced evenly around a circular conference table of highly polished cherry wood that matched the built-in bookcases and window ledges. The drapes were a geometric pattern in burgundy, teal, and gold in a shade that exactly matched the plush carpet. There was an original painting on the east wall. It was nonobjective: white mostly, on a glossy black background, but with splashes of vibrant teal, red, and lavender in a simple cherry frame.
Tom settled into the chair directly across from me, turning slowly to take in every detail of both the room and the view.
“Nice, very nice,” he observed.
“Thank you.”
Victoria Ryan stepped into the room carrying a sealed brown envelope. She hadn’t changed much in the years since I’d seen her. There was a little more gray in her hair, but it looked good on her. Her body was still trim and toned beneath the red power suit. The blouse she wore was snow white silk, her jewelry heavy and gold. It was all very impressive, understated and businesslike, with one exception. On her lapel she wore a large pin. Jeweled and enameled it was just a fraction away from gaudy. It was in the shape of a traditional Chinese dragon.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. She smiled and said. “Do you realize you are only the second person with enough nerve to laugh at the joke?”
“Who was the other?” Tom asked.
“A U.S. District Court judge.”
She dropped the envelope onto the table between Tom and me, but didn’t sit down. Instead, she walked over to the windows, her high heels sinking deep and silently into the carpet. She stared outward, but not as though she was actually looking at the view.
“My daughter said you’d be coming here.”
“She did?” I didn’t bother to hide my surprise. “When?”
“Shortly after Dylan’s death.” She turned and looked at me, her expression carefully neutral. “I love my daughter.”
“I know.”
“I wish I was one of those mothers who could rationalize everything, tell myself that anything Amanda does is all right, simply because it’s her doing it.” Her eyes met mine, and it was a hard look. “I’m not.”
There wasn’t much I could say to that, so I kept my mouth shut. Tom must have agreed with me, because he seemed to be doing his absolute best to remain invisible.
She sighed and turned back to the window. “We disagreed about her obsession with you and her involvement with the parasites. It put a significant strain on our relationship.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She turned, giving me a small smile. “I believe you actually mean that.”
“I do. As I recall the two of you were very close.”
“Yes.” She crossed to the table and primly took her seat. “We were.” Sadness touched her eyes, and her shoulders drooped a little beneath the padded jacket, but only for a moment. I watched as she very deliberately put the pain aside and took back up the armor of business.
“At any rate, she said you’d be here, and here you are. I was asked to give you this envelope and tell you that she’ll be waiting.” I reached for the envelope, but she set a manicured hand on top of it, holding it in place. “There’s something I feel I need to tell you, but I’m not sure how to word it.”
“Just say it.” Tom softened the words with a smile. She looked at him, then at me, and I saw recognition of our relationship in that look. It was as though until that moment, I’d been alone in the room as far as she was concerned, but now Tom and I were a couple, or even a team.
“Amanda blames you for Dylan’s death, Kate, and for everything else that happened that night. I think … I’m afraid it may have unhinged her. I tried to convince her to get help, but all I succeeded in doing was to drive her further away from me. But judging from how she was behaving the last time we spoke, I’d have to say that, where you’re concerned, she might well be dangerous.”
I thought of Amanda’s attack on me at my apartment and gave an involuntary shudder. Amanda was unhinged all right, and more dangerous than her mother even imagined.
“I know.”
She stared at me for a long moment before giving a small nod of acknowledgment. “Please don’t kill her, if she’s still sane.” She paused and I watched her blink away a moment of wetness. “I have to ask you for that. She is my child.” She took her hand off the envelope, rose in one fluid movement, and cleared her throat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have another appointment. I’ll have Rachel come back in a few minutes to show you out.” She paused at the door. “Be careful, Katie.” She was gone before either of us could answer.
I shifted my gaze from the closing door to the envelope in my hand. My stomach was tight with nerves, and there was a fine trembling in my fingers. I undid the clasp and used a fingernail to slit open the flap. Inside there were a sheet of paper with a handwritten address, a printout of a map, and directions. It was a trap. Sure as God made little green apples, Amanda had laid out a trap for me—months ago, and she’d had all this time to perfect it. The question was, what was I going to do about it?
We walked out of the building to find Carlton double-parked next to the rental car and signing autographs. We had to wade through an actual crowd to get to the vehicle. Tom was shaking his head in disbelief. I couldn’t blame him. It was just … surreal.
I wanted to hate Lewis Carlton. I mean, he’s big, he’s scary, and he’s a vampire. And still something about him appealed to me. Under other circumstances, I’d probably be friends with him. A part of me wanted dealing with the Thrall to be black and white. But the fact was that the parasites infested people. Sometimes the host’s mind was even strong enough to briefly override the influence of the hive. Morris had done it. Nor was Carlton the first person I’d known to willingly accept a parasite. Dylan had made the same choice. Amanda would’ve if she could. Hell, she’d even tried. I didn’t know what was wrong with her that she couldn’t be a host, but I’d seen the results. I couldn’t understand why Dylan had agreed to be infested, but I couldn’t hate him for it either. In the end, he’d died saving Tom and my brother Joe.
Don’t think about it, Reilly. Think about what you’re going to do about Amanda.
I had options. First, I could call Brooks, tell him that I had a good idea who took the eggs and where they were. Problem with that was, Amanda was completely insane, and, according to the hive, a big, strong bad-ass who’d wipe the floor with the nice police officers.
Second, she’d issued a direct challenge. If I didn’t meet it, the Thrall could use it as an excuse to revoke my Not Prey status. I like my status. Admittedly, part of it is ego. But more than that, being Not Prey makes them deal with me as an equal. It’s kept them from simply hunting me down and killing me as a threat. Granted, there have been times when it’s been a damned nuisance. But more often than not it’s been a good thing.
I thought about all of this on the long, silent ride back to the apartment. Only a few blocks, but the drive seemed to take forever.
I turned the car into the drive, stopping at the parking gate to punch in the access code. Carlton pulled to the curb. His window rolled down and I heard him call my name.
“Reilly!”
I leaned out the driver’s side window. “What?”
“You going anywhere for the next couple hours? I could stand a bite to eat, and
I want to switch vehicles.” He nodded toward the bank of ominous clouds rolling in over the mountains. A snowstorm was headed this way, and from the looks of things it was going to be a beaut.
I looked at Tom to get his opinion.
“It’s going to take more than a couple hours to work up a plan. I vote we let him go.”
I didn’t disagree, and a little privacy might be a nice thing.
“Go ahead and go.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” He smiled to take the sting out of the words.
“I’m not trying to ditch you, Carlton. I honestly don’t care if you follow me around. It’ll take us at least two hours to come up with a plan of attack—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He opened the door and climbed from the vehicle with amazing speed. “What exactly did you find out that you’re talking ‘bout a ‘plan of attack’?”
I blinked stupidly. I’d just assumed that the queens had been in my head and seen what was going on, and that they would pass the information on. Apparently I was wrong. I looked at Tom, who shrugged his shoulders. He was leaving the decision up to me.
“I thought you knew.” I reached over and grabbed the envelope from where it was sitting on the seat between Tom and me. “Amanda anticipated my move. She left a message for me at her mother’s office.” I handed the envelope out the window to Carlton. “She gave me a map showing how to get to her.”
“It’s a trap.” Carlton slid the pages from the envelope and looked them over.
“Ya think?” Tom rolled his eyes and growled.
Carlton’s smile evaporated as he replaced the pages and passed the envelope to me through the car window. “I’ll be back in two hours. Give me your word you won’t take off without me. And I don’t mean telling the queens in your head—you tell me … personally.”
I thought about that for a second, searching for his angle and not finding it. “Give me your cell phone number. If we decide to leave early, I’ll give you a call.”
Carlton pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his slacks and removed a business card. Using a Mont Blanc pen he scrawled a series of numbers on the back of the card.
“You’re going to be needing back-up on this one, Reilly.”
“I’ll be going with her.” Tom’s voice had a bass rumble to it.
Carlton put both massive hands on the window frame and leaned forward to get a better look inside the car. “Yeah, but you’re only one wolf.” His expression grew grave as he turned to me. “Just how well does this bitch know you?”
“I’ve known her since high school. We were best friends once.”
“Shit. Then she’ll be able to anticipate exactly what you’re going to do.”
I thought about that for a second. Once upon a time that would have been true. But a lot had happened in the past few years. I’d changed. Like it or not I was a harder, colder person than the girl Amanda had known. “I don’t think so.” I smiled a quick baring of teeth. “But she’ll think she can.”
“She anticipated you going to her mother.”
“Hell, that’s just logic, Carlton. Anyone who has ever watched a cop show knows you start with the next of kin.”
He thought about that for a moment. When he answered, his voice was quiet and firm. “Just don’t leave before I get back.” He straightened up and stepped away from the car. As I entered the code and drove into the garage I caught a glimpse of him driving off.
Tom shook his head as I pulled the car into its usual space. “A vampire. He’s a friggin’ vampire. It doesn’t make sense.”
I didn’t comment. I couldn’t fathom it either. I couldn’t imagine that Lewis Carlton wouldn’t be strong enough to fight off an attacking Thrall, even a queen. Which meant he’d gone into being a host willingly. It made no sense. Why accept a parasite knowing it would kill you in just a few years? There are people who are just stupid, or crazy, but Carlton demonstrably wasn’t. So why? .
I hopped out of the car, shutting the door with a brisk slam before hitting the lock button on the keychain. The car beeped, its lights flashing to let me know that the alarm was on.
“I’m going to head up to my apartment,” Tom announced. “I’ll come up in a few minutes.” He circled around the vehicle, taking me into his arms for a sweet, gentle kiss. “Promise you won’t leave without me.”
“I promise.”
He gave me a quick squeeze and another kiss before sprinting over to the staircase. I stood in the near-empty garage for a long moment, listening to the thunder of his feet echoing in the stairwell before I went over to activate the freight elevator.
Alone in the elevator, I scratched irritably at the skin under the neck brace. The rough acrylic was miserably uncomfortable, but it was worth it to have my neck protected in case of a bite. I’d learned from past experience just how much of an advantage it was, because a Thrall that broke off its teeth went into shock, leaving it totally vulnerable.
I had the key in the socket and was locking off the elevator when the phone rang. I wasn’t really in any mood to talk to anyone. I had things to think about, plans to make, so I let the machine take it, grabbed the remote from on top of the counter, and flipped on the television with the volume muted. It was almost time for the news. I didn’t want to hear about Share the Planet, or the trial, or even the plane crash. I did need to check out the weather report. If it was snowing in the mountains there was a good chance the passes would be closed to traffic. I didn’t want to drive all the way up there only to find I couldn’t get through.
After the fourth ring I heard my voice saying “I’m not available to take your call, please leave a message after the tone.” The machine beeped, and I heard Miles MacDougal’s voice on the line.
“Kate, I got a very strange call from Henri Tané’s wife. I’m very worried. Please call me.”
I stopped in my tracks. Guilt washed over me in a tidal wave. How could I have forgotten about Henri? I leapt across the room, grabbing the receiver while Miles was still talking.
“Miles, I’m here. You caught me coming in the door.”
“Kate. I’m so glad I was able to reach you!” His relief was obvious, even over the phone. “I got the strongest call from Yvette Tané. She said that Henri had been murdered. She also said she saw you at Henri’s funeral, but that’s impossible. In Haiti the custom is normally to bury the dead within twenty-four hours of their death. I saw you in court, and there’s no way you could’ve flown down to Port-de-Paix and back.”
“No. I didn’t.” I didn’t explain about the psychic connection. It was just too weird. Miles was a scientist. He’d be utterly fascinated and would keep me on the phone for hours talking about it. I didn’t have hours. I needed to plan.
“Did she say anything about how it happened? Who did it?”
“She didn’t say. In fact, she acted as though you already knew. Does this have to do with the Thrall?”
“I don’t know. I’d thought so, but I talked to one of them about it and he said that it wasn’t them.”
“Then who—” He let the sentence trail off.
“I don’t know. I assume the Haitian police are looking into it?”
“Yvette didn’t seem to have much faith in them.”
I didn’t answer. There wasn’t anything to say. From what I’ve seen, most people don’t have a lot of faith in the police—anywhere in the world. It’s a shame, really. Most of the cops I’ve met are basically good guys doing a tough job. But I live in Denver, not Haiti. With the unstable political situation there, Yvette might have a valid point. Or not. I just didn’t know.
“Do you think the Thrall lied to you?”
“Maybe. But I doubt it. They’re pretty careful about not breaking the rules. They’ll bend them all to hell, but not break them.” I drummed my fingers against the tiled surface of the kitchen island, trying to remember word-for-word what Carlton had said. I couldn’t do it. I remembered the gist, but somehow that didn’t seem good enough.
&nb
sp; “Monica broke the rules.” Miles spoke softly, each word chosen with obvious care.
“Monica was insane. The queens lost control over her.”
Miles didn’t answer. The silence stretched between us for long moments before he finally spoke. “Henri was a friend of mine, Kate. His wife is a lovely woman, left to raise her son alone in a country torn by violence. The person who did this needs to be brought to justice.”
I didn’t disagree. In fact, I figured Miles and I were probably even on the same page as to what constituted justice. The problem was, if the Thrall hadn’t been responsible, I didn’t have a clue who would have done it.
I paced the floor with the receiver in my hand. I was tired, angry, and sad. It occurred to me that even though Carlton had told me Henri was dead, despite the fact I’d asked Mike for a mass, a part of me had clung to a tiny thread of hope that they were wrong and Henri was alive. Now I knew for a fact he wasn’t. I wouldn’t get the chance to apologize to him for being a jerk, or laugh at his dry wit and endless supply of Haitian proverbs. He’d been so vibrantly alive, it was hard to imagine him gone.
“Kate?” Apparently the silence had gone on too long for Miles’s comfort.
“I’m here.”
“I’m sorry. I know that the two of you had become close.”
“I’ll miss him.” My voice was tight with unshed tears of both anger and grief.
A pause, and it sounded like Miles’s tears weren’t so unshed. “I’ll miss him, too.”
We ended the conversation shortly after that. There was really nothing more to say, and neither of us was capable of small talk.
I put the phone in its cradle and sank onto the nearest stool. I let my head fall into my hands. I was still sitting there when Tom came through the front door. He came up to me slowly, gently wrapping me in his arms before speaking. “What’s wrong?”
