Her back stiffened.
“Not to you. They would give their life to protect you.”
“Walter’s in danger, isn’t he?”
Krieger sat down and crossed his ankle over his knee. He ran his fingers down the pressed edge of his pant leg. “Yes.”
She swept her long hair over one shoulder, separating and braiding a plait down to her waist. “Should we call the police and file a missing persons report?”
“The police would be of no help.”
There was really nothing else to be done. How strange it was to think in terms of human and Other. Krieger had explained his world in detail the night she’d met him, everything except the blood exchange.
“Did you trance me that night?”
“Only to make you forget until it was time. Now, it is impossible.”
“Because I drank your blood.” Lily winced.
He dipped his head slightly.
“Will it wear off?”
“No.”
“Why you?”
He gave her an unreadable look. His eyes became intense. She had a flash of what he might have looked like as a warrior those many centuries ago.
“It’s best not to question the gods when they bestow a gift upon you.” He stood up and moved closer, not enough to make her feel trapped, but close enough to reach out and touch the end of her braid. “The women in my village wore their hair this way.” Krieger turned his head, lost in his memories of another place for a moment, and then he stepped back from her, appraising her. “You’ve taken the knowledge of my nature and the Others’ existence well, almost too well.”
She avoided his eyes. “I already knew what you were, or thought I knew.” She shook her head, unaccustomed to speaking so much. “I think I was eight, maybe, when I saw you. I was home from boarding school. That was a bad time for me. When I’d come home all I wanted to do was hide. At night, I’d go out to the pool and turn off the lights. I would jump in and hold myself at the bottom until I thought my lungs would burst.” She looked down at her feet in embarrassment. “I wanted to become a mermaid so I could hide down there forever.” The red hot feel of her cheeks told her she was blushing. “One night, I was at the bottom looking up at the stars. I watched you drop out of the sky and land by the pool. Walter came out to greet you, and then you both walked inside.”
“Your scent was covered,” Krieger said to himself.
“Afterwards, I sneaked out of my room every night, but you didn’t come back before I went back to school.” She wrapped her arms around her body. Looking him in the eyes, she saw his expression was still unreadable. “Did Walter choose this world over me? Is that why he never loved me?” She turned her eyes away, unable to articulate her feelings, and ashamed that she’d said something so personal.
“Look at me.”
This time she obeyed and met his eyes. The words refused to stay pent-up inside her any longer. “I made up a fantasy world where Walter was a king, and I was the princess, and he was too busy to spend time with me. Then, I guess, I outgrew it, or stopped caring. Eventually, I just thought it was a dream.” Like the dream of my mother, she thought.
He reached out his hand to touch her. “I want you to listen and remember everything I say now. You belong in this world.” He stopped and rocked back on his heels. “In time, you will learn that you must take what is given, and not mourn for what is not. Walter is a fool.”
He moved from her side to the refrigerator, and pulled out a steel container, about the size of a milk carton. Opening the cabinet, he chose a glass pitcher and poured the liquid into it, which she soon realized was blood.
“The microwave was one of the more inspired human inventions.” He placed it inside the machine. After a minute, he pulled out the pitcher, and swirled it around, then poured the warm blood into a glass.
Should she be grossed out? She knew that would be a normal response, but all she felt was fascination.
“You are not here because Walter asked it of me. I gave him my word that I would protect you, but that could be done from a distance. What I offer now – what I want from you – is much more than that. I desire you in ways you cannot understand.” He paused and took a drink of blood. “Not yet. Embrace this world, for it truly is where you belong.” His glance drifted outside.
She was too stunned to speak. The way he spoke did something to her insides. He left no room for misinterpretation. He was male, and he wanted her, in the way a man wants a woman. In a way no man had ever expressed to her before. All these years she thought she was frigid or somehow repulsive to men.
Now wasn’t the right time, but it had to be asked. “Did you know my mother?”
His eyes snapped up and locked with hers. “No.”
He said no more on the subject, just continued to look at her with his unreadable blue-gray eyes.
Krieger drank the rest of the blood. “Liam,” he called.
Almost instantly, Liam appeared and bowed before him.
“I must attend an official function tonight,” Krieger said to her. “If you feel up to it, I’d be honored if you would make an appearance. Everything you need is in your suite. Until later.” And then he was gone.
Chapter Nine
Hunter relaxed into the buttery soft leather of the airplane seat and looked across at Huthwiat. They were traveling across the Atlantic Ocean on an Airbus A380. A plane privately owned by the Legacy Foundation.
The jet was titanic, and lavish, and had every amenity a person, or Other, could want. Hunter had quickly adapted to the knowledge of the Others, and with each passing hour his old life faded away into the background.
He and Huthwiat were not the only people inside the cabin. The Shields and a Minder were sitting in the lounge area in front of them. They were the inner circle of private guards for Huthwiat. Minders were a type of Other, able to pick up specific thoughts, and therefore detect if someone wanted to threaten their leader. Hunter thought of it like data mining for particular words or phrases on the internet. The Shields prevented anyone, or thing, from hearing what was said inside the private circle.
It was a lot to take in, and at times he felt uncomfortable under their gazes, knowing that the Minder could pick through his thoughts. It tended to make a person a bit paranoid.
So far most of the Others he’d seen would blend in anywhere. You would never know they had powers which humans did not. But some were slightly off – something about them made you stare, and while you couldn’t place what was wrong, you just knew there was something not right about them. Huthwiat had explained that the Others were divided into two categories, Seen and Unseen. The Seen walked amongst the humans if they chose, while the Unseen covered their appearance for fear of being discovered.
“Explain again why we are going to visit this king.”
Huthwiat smiled at him, and his skin glowed, definitely an Unseen moment. “He is the king of North America, and he now possesses the keeper’s daughter. The keeper, named Walter, whose head sits on that seat.” He pointed to the back of the seating area where an elaborately carved box perched.
“But you haven’t informed them of Walter’s death. Why?”
“What purpose would it serve for them to know now? It is best to do such things in person.”
“And the other man, Gibson.”
Huthwiat turned and looked out the window. “Gibson has no living relatives.”
Hunter turned the ring around his knuckle. The ring Huthwiat had placed on his finger.
“You think I’m cruel and unkind by not telling them beforehand.”
“I think being presented with the head of your father isn’t especially helpful. At least tell the king, so he can break the news to her.”
“Ah, I see, your concern is for yourself, for the questions you wish to ask. If she is too upset it will take longer.” Huthwiat tapped his fingers together.
He didn’t want to admit that the Elder was correct. “Partly, yes.”
“And you feel t
hat she is needed.”
“I do. You said that all keepers have a vast library of research and history. I need access to Walter’s resources, his research, books, anything that could be useful.”
“The female is not needed to gain access to Walter’s resources. Be warned,” the Elder said, his expression changing to something harsh, “you might not get your wish to question her. It is at the king’s discretion. He must allow it.”
“Allow it? She is an adult.”
“We shall speak to him. It is his choice.”
“You are the Elder, which means you’re his boss.”
Huthwiat smiled at him and placed his hands together. “I do like your way with words.” He dipped his head. “Our ways are new to you. Trust me to know how best to deal with the vampires.”
Lowering his eyes, Hunter went back to inspecting the ring. Something about the crime scene was nagging at him, but he couldn’t figure out what. That was the way he worked. His subconscious mind would churn on a case without his conscious mind knowing, and then he would have a breakthrough moment.
“How can you stay hidden? I could see in the Dark Ages maybe, but now with technology being what it is, how is this possible?”
Huthwiat straightened his tie. “Your race has an amazing capacity for denial. You wish not to see. If anything happens outside what you feel is possible, then you discount it.”
Hunter had to think about that for a moment. “But this plane must have a flight path. You have to debark. We have to pass through U.S. Customs.”
“This aircraft is registered to a Saudi prince. He has access to the plane from time to time, but we actually own it. When it is necessary, we cloak ourselves under the rules of diplomatic immunity, and therefore do not need to pass through Customs. It is very simple, really.”
There had to be some trace of the Others. “There must be someone who knows or suspects.”
“Our existence is known to some.”
Hunter shook his head.
“In time you will understand more. Think back, have there not been moments when it seemed the world was on the brink of destruction? What caused it to pull back? Are there not tales of super humans in your culture?”
“They’re called superheroes. So without your help humans would have destroyed themselves long ago?” He realized he’d said humans, like he wasn’t one. “Why do you care?”
“It is to our benefit that humans continue to think they rule the world.”
The look in Huthwiat’s eyes let him know that this subject was officially closed.
“Superman, is he real?”
“Yes, to some extent. The Vampire race has extraordinary strength, even for Others. Their senses are far beyond your capability. If one were seen, say, lifting a car, or moving at half the speed of light…” he shrugged slightly.
Hunter worked to keep his jaw from hitting his lap. “They’re that strong.”
The Elder nodded.
“What about God. Is he real?” The age old question had to be asked.
“Ah.” Huthwiat placed his elegant hands together. “I was waiting for that question. I have never felt the presence of your God.”
That pretty much confirmed what he’d thought all along. “I’m going to the conference room to look over the crime scene photos again.”
Huthwiat nodded in acknowledgement.
Last year, Hunter had flown to Australia in a commercial jet much smaller than the one he now rode in. He could not imagine how much this must have cost. There was a lift running through the center of the plane which connected the three levels. The top level had sleeping suites with full baths, along with a sauna and exercise room. The mid-level, where he was now, had a large seating area with movie screens and computers, a conference center, and a dining room. The lowest level of the plane garaged the vehicles, and though he hadn’t seen them, the vampires were there. He had been asked, very nicely of course, not to enter their area.
On the conference table, he spread out the crime scene evidence. Every sample, photo, imprint had been collected and was now before him. He sorted and organized the photos, trying to recreate how the church looked. He needed to decipher the writings on the walls and ceiling, somehow. What could they mean? They were more like pictures, or Egyptian hieroglyphs, than words.
“Penny for your thoughts,” the Minder said.
He was concentrating so hard on the evidence that he hadn’t noticed her walk into the room. The way the Others moved, without any noise, annoyed him. He felt clumsy and oafish around them. She was probably reading his thoughts right now, which only made him feel more vulnerable. ‘A penny for your thoughts,’ was that some sort of Other joke?
“Meirta, right?” he asked. It was hard not to remember her. She was at least six feet tall, with flaming red hair and vibrant green eyes. The eye color you’d see on some exotic lizard, the kind that could kill you in less than sixty seconds. Why was it that the most deadly of creatures were also the most beautiful?
She nodded and half sat on the conference table. “You need rest. When was the last time you slept?”
He thought that over. He really couldn’t remember. It seemed like a lifetime ago since the inspector had woken him. “I don’t know. I can’t relax enough to sleep.” Moving the crime scene photos around, he tried to make order out of chaos.
“You really are just a human?”
The Others found him intriguing. At least that’s what he surmised by the way their eyes constantly followed him. “Totally human.”
“Hmmm,” she purred, and moved closer to him. “I know exactly what will relax you.”
She was a hunter and he was perfectly willing to be caught. Afterwards, as they lay under the table, he tried to put his pants on but felt too weak to do so. Instead he asked, “Is this how you initiate all the new humans?”
Those iridescent green eyes of hers narrowed. “Never had a human before.”
The miniskirt was now bunched up around her waist. She rolled over on top of him and gently sucked on his lower lip. Instantly hard, he went to wrap his arms around her. She had other plans, and with her Amazonian strength, grabbed his hands and pinned them above his head.
“Handcuffs?” she asked.
“In my luggage.” So she was that type of girl.
“Good, you need to learn some discipline.”
He was one breath away from arguing with her, but then she lowered herself onto him and all thoughts of protest disappeared.
Waking up under a conference table, on a private plane, was a new experience for him. She had literally fucked him into exhaustion. He looked around, but didn’t see her. “Probably running laps,” he muttered. Like all males, he prided himself on his sexual prowess. Next time I’ll be ready for her. Smiling, he hitched up his pants and tucked in his shirt.
The conference table was a mess. At least he’d had the presence of mind to move the evidence out of the way. He put the photos back in order and looked them over again. That nagging feeling was gnawing away at him. Somewhere in these pictures was a clue. There had to be something.
The heads had been placed on the altar. Were they meant to be offerings? Or was that just a convenient place to put them? It could be a warning. He still had no idea what had done this. From what he’d just learned about vampires, it was plausible that one had committed the murders. His eyes continued to scan, trying to decipher the writings. Someone must know what these meant.
Detectives are trained, and most have an innate ability, to find what doesn’t fit. Usually an odd phrase, gesture, or slip in judgment are the things that get criminals caught. He used these skills when looking at the photos, trying to find what looked out of place, but this case was so far out of his realm of experience that he didn’t know what was normal and what was not.
His eyes drifted over the photos, searching. Then he saw it, in the corner, by a large pool of blood. Was there something scrawled on the floor? It wasn’t like the other drawings. This was written shakily and t
he blood was thinner. Unfortunately, the technician who took the image had not lit that area very well and it was partially in the shadows.
Taking the image to a large lamp, he turned it on, and then pulled out his +2 reading glasses. He needed a little help with reading up close now that he was in his forties.
He was sure one of the victims had written it. Straining to make it out and getting frustrated, he decided to isolate the letters. There was too much to draw his brain away from what he was trying to concentrate on. He ripped out a sheet of his notepad and placed it over the picture. Luckily a side table was made of glass. Positioning the lamp underneath, he improvised a light box so he could trace the letters.
The first one was an F. The second letter was possibly an A. He thought there were two or three more letters, but they were very badly scripted. The victim was obviously close to passing out, or death, when he had written these.
Hunter decided the last scribble was a letter, so that made five. He had a grizzly image of the victim using his wounds as an inkwell, dipping his finger into himself, desperate to write out a clue.
His mind started to work on all the words which started with FA. Most likely it was a name. He gathered up the photo, and his tracing, and went to show Huthwiat.
Chapter Ten
“Sire.” Merlin bowed low. “I took the liberty of starting this evening’s refreshments flowing.”
Krieger had showered and changed before arriving in the main hall to receive his subjects. He was a vampire who liked the clothes of this century and wore a silk shirt with black slacks. His one concession to his time was the sword strapped to his back, a gladius, which had served him well these many centuries. It wasn’t that he felt he’d need to use the weapon, but on formal occasion within his court, he liked to remind his subjects that he was their ruler for a reason.
He took the blood drink from Merlin, sipping it slowly while he walked through the cavernous hall. Here and there were Roman marble statues with eyes, hair, flesh, and clothes meticulously painted.
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