“I’ve called six times. I left messages. You never returned any of my calls.” He put down the packing tape he was using to seal a mailing box with an Asian mahogany chess set inside. It had brought a pretty penny on eBay.
“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. I just thought it was better if . . . if we not talk. If we not see each other again.”
He leaned against a wood-slatted crate. “You were the one who called me to begin with. I was just checking to be sure you and your dad were okay. That’s all.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that . . . I’m a private person. And I felt stupid, calling you like that. And now I’m doing it again.” She was quiet for a second. “We’re not okay, Liam. Today’s my uncle’s funeral and . . . I just got a very disturbing phone call as I was going out the door. Someone . . .” Her voice trembled. “This guy, he threatened my dad.”
“Threatened him how? Who was it?” As he spoke, he went up the back staircase to his apartment. He didn’t have a suit, but he was pretty sure he had a shirt and tie. Somewhere.
“I don’t know who it was. When I picked up the phone, he just said that if we didn’t return what belonged to him, my father would be next. They’re going to kill him, Liam,” she said softly.
The obvious question might have been “Return what?” But not to Liam. “Why didn’t you call the cops?”
She was silent for a second. He waited.
“No cops,” she said finally.
He heard a dog bark and then Mai say, “Hush, Prince. Babbo, please, I’m on the phone.” Then he seemed to have her attention again. “Sorry, Liam. My father didn’t want to leave his dog at home. He’s worried he won’t be safe.”
“So, back to the cops,” Liam directed. “What you’re saying is that there’s more to the story than what you gave them the night your uncle was killed. It wasn’t just a burglary gone bad and you knew it.”
Again, she was silent. She reminded him of himself. He played the same game. Sometimes, when he didn’t like the answer, he just didn’t answer at all.
“You want my help or not?” he asked, digging through the closet he hadn’t touched in three years. Possibly four.
“I want your help. That’s why I called you. Because I . . . oh, God, I don’t know why I called you. Because you said I should call you if I needed anything else.” She took a breath. “No, it wasn’t just that. I called because in my gut, I think you can help me. I think maybe you’re the only person who can, Liam. Does that sound crazy?”
“Of course it does. You don’t know me,” he told her. “You have no idea what kind of person I am. I could be more dangerous than the guy who broke into your store and killed your uncle, for all you know.”
“You’re right, I don’t know you,” she answered calmly. “But I do know what kind of person you are. You’re the kind of person who comes in the middle of the night when a complete stranger asks you to.”
Every fiber of his being told him not to do it. But her voice, her voice was killing him. She sounded so desperate. So scared. She didn’t deserve that. No one did. And he had sworn to God to protect His fragile humans, hadn’t he? “I’ve got to know what’s going on, Mai. I can’t help you if you can’t be truthful with me.”
“I understand that.” Then she whispered, “I just don’t want to talk on the phone. My dad’s sitting right here. He’s been through enough this week.”
“Fair enough,” Liam agreed. “I’ll come, but I’m warning you, Mai. If you’re not more forthright with me than you were with the cops, I won’t be coming next time you call. You understand what I’m saying?”
“I’ll tell you what I know. Everything. Dad and I are headed to the church. It’s St. Clare’s in Long Neck. The burial Mass is at one. Can you meet me there?”
He hesitated. He was making a mistake. A huge mistake. Whatever this girl was involved in, he didn’t need to be a part of it. He could not get involved with an HF. Not one who made dates to murder scenes and funerals. All he had to do was say no and hang up. He’d never hear from her again. He was sure of it.
“I’ll see you there,” he said.
He found the tie, a white shirt, and black pants. He thought he looked like a waiter when he glanced at himself in the hearse’s sideview mirror. The tiny church was nestled among tombstones and sturdy elm trees. The Kahill sept didn’t get dressed up for funerals. They were wakes: a lot of drinking, some fighting, a little slap and tickle here and there, and buckets of tears. At Kahill vampire funerals, they gathered not to put the bodies of their loved ones in graves, but to greet them when the deceased arose from the dead, reborn, to live another life cycle on Earth. Each time a Kahill was reborn there was a deep sadness because rebirth meant the loved one’s soul had not yet been saved by God and he or she was destined to live yet again. Immortality got pretty old after a few centuries.
He entered the front doors of the church. He had been to St. Clare’s Basilica in Assisi, Italy. It was tiny and ordinary, but one of his favorites in the whole world. This St. Clare’s reminded him of that great church in Italy. Humble. He walked through the narthex, into the nave. There were thirty or forty mourners, some seated in the front pews, others standing in a receiving line with Mai and her father at the head.
In front of the kneeling rail at the altar stood an open coffin. Liam had to fight not to recoil, his response almost physical. It wasn’t the sight of the dead man that offended him; it was the stink of formaldehyde that came off the body. It was so strong and thick and revolting that it made Liam’s stomach churn. Why the hell would anyone want to preserve a human body after it was placed in the ground? It seemed like sacrilege to him. He liked the idea of ashes to ashes, dust to dust. For him it was a dream. An ultimate, possibly unobtainable dream.
Liam dipped his fingers into the marble font, felt the sweet relief of the holy water, and went down on one knee. He crossed himself, whispering a prayer to God to give him the strength to keep walking. As bizarre as it seemed, he was a pretty religious guy. At least pretty religious for a vampire. Who murdered for a living.
When he came to his feet, he stood for a moment, watching Mai. The mourners offered condolences, then moved solemnly past the body. He wondered who these people were. What their relationship to Mai was. He was just about to take a seat in the back pew when she spotted him and left her father’s side.
She looked damn hot in a simple navy dress and heels. Bare, shapely legs. In the dress, he could see that she was slender, but well built with curvy hips and small, pert breasts. Liam was a breast man. He loved them. All sizes, all shapes. Firm, droopy, big nipples, little nipples. He didn’t care. He thought a woman’s breasts might have been God’s greatest creation.
“You came,” she said. It sounded like a sigh of relief. She surprised him by wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly. Her father walked up behind her, a slightly confused smile on his face.
“Mr. Ricci.” When Mai finally let go of him, he put out his hand to the older man. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Corrato shook Liam’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you for coming. I know you?” He squinted behind his wire-rim glasses. He was dressed in a gray suit, his full head of white hair recently cut. His tie was neatly tied, by Mai, Liam guessed, and he looked sharp.
“We met the other night, sir.”
“It’s my friend, Liam, Babbo. Remember?”
“That’s right. My Prince, he liked you. You remember him? My dog?”
Liam wasn’t exactly sure what to say. “He seemed like a nice dog, sir, from what I saw.”
“A fine dog. An excellent dog. He’s in the car. We left the window down a little. I wanted to bring him in, but Father Renaldo doesn’t care for rat terriers.” He lowered his voice in a conspiratorial manner. “He has a poodle. I think he’s prejudiced.”
Mai looped her arm through her father’s and steered him in the opposite direction. “Why don’t you go sit next to Suzy? See her?” She pointed. “There, in fr
ont.”
“I do want to get a good seat,” he said, letting go of her and shuffling down the center aisle.
Mai turned back to Liam as soon as her father was out of earshot. “After the Mass, there’s the burial and then we’re going to my cousin Suzy’s for a reception, or whatever the hell you call it.” Her face was pale. He could see that she was upset, but to anyone else it probably just looked like she was mourning her uncle. Liam saw past that. She was genuinely afraid.
“We can talk there,” she said, nervously applying cherry lip balm. “At this point, I’m scared to even go home.”
An ancient organ in the front of the church began to moan. Mourners scattered to take their seats. “You should go sit with your father,” he told her.
“Do you want to come sit up front with us?”
“No.” He placed his hand on the small of her back. “I’ll keep an eye on you from here. Go on, Mai. Your father needs you.”
She walked reluctantly up the aisle, toward the front of the church. Liam took a seat in the last pew. The polished wood felt good beneath him. Solid. It offered a sense of familiar comfort. No matter where he was in the world, he got this feeling when he sat in a church.
The priest in white robes entered, signifying the start of Mass. Liam ignored protocol and pulled out the kneeling bench. He didn’t care about Mass and he never went to confession, which meant he was a lousy Catholic. But he didn’t need those things. What he needed was a one-on-one with God. He got on his knees, clasped his hands, and lowered his forehead until it rested on his knuckles. Considering the things he had done in the name of protecting God’s humans, he always had a lot of praying to do.
Burial was in the small cemetery there at St. Clare’s, and then Liam followed everyone back to Mai’s cousin’s house in a nearby neighborhood. Feeling awkward, even though Mai had invited him to join them, he didn’t go inside with everyone else. Instead, he leaned against his motorcycle and enjoyed the fresh autumn air.
After a while, the front door opened and Corrato came out, followed by his little black rat terrier. The older man had shed his suit jacket and had a red plastic cup in each hand. Slowly, he made his way to Liam with that tottering gait that some elderly walked with. The dog stayed a foot behind him.
When he reached Liam, he pushed one cup into his hand. “Coke,” he said. “Looked for rum. Couldn’t find any. Usually under the sink at Suzy’s. I think the young folks hid it.”
Liam chuckled. “Thanks.”
“Welcome.”
They both sipped from their plastic cups. “You can come in, you know,” Corrato said after a minute, using the cup to point in the direction of the house.
“I’m fine here.”
The old man nodded. “I don’t want to be in there, either.”
He sounded pretty clear-headed, compared to the other night. Maybe he’d been in shock the night of his brother’s murder. Humans weren’t just physically fragile; they were emotionally fragile, as well.
“Talking about Donato, what a good man he was,” Corrato explained. “Like they knew him.”
Liam eyed the old man. He considered asking him outright what had happened to his brother; he had a feeling he might know more than Mai did. But this was between Liam and Mai. He didn’t want to make this relationship any more complicated than it already was. He didn’t want a relationship at all, with anyone. He didn’t want to get to know this man. Relationships were just messy all the way around, and in the end, people got hurt.
So Liam and Corrato drank their Cokes and stood there in silence, both content. Liam found himself watching the dog. Animals often sensed there was something different about vampires, about the way they smelled, and this one was no different. Prince sat calmly at his master’s feet watching Liam, probably trying to figure out exactly what he was.
After five minutes, Corrato looked over. “I think I’ll sit on the step there. Sciatica.” He rubbed the small of his back.
Liam noticed he wore a wedding ring.
“Care to join me?” Corrato asked.
Liam intended to say no thanks. Instead, he found himself seated beside the old guy on the concrete steps of Cousin Suzy’s front porch. It was kind of serene, a situation Liam didn’t find himself in very often. He spent most of his time hunting the streets of big, dirty, ugly cities at night, following, plotting . . . killing. He rarely had the opportunity to do something so human as have a cup of soda on a fall afternoon in a quiet neighborhood and watch the sun slip under the horizon.
The two of them sat there in comfortable silence for a good twenty minutes. The dog climbed up in Corrato’s lap, and apparently seeing Liam as no immediate threat, went to sleep. The dog lifted its head when the door opened behind them. “There you are! Babbo! You scared me to death. I looked everywhere for you.”
“No fuss,” he grumbled over his shoulder. Then he looked to Liam. “She fusses.”
Liam glanced in her direction, lifting an eyebrow.
She almost smiled. “Come inside, Babbo. Have some cake.”
“We don’t like cake,” he said, handing his empty cup to Liam and lowering the dog from his lap. “Prince doesn’t like it.” He slowly got to his feet with the aid of the handrail.
“Babbo, you like cake and Prince would eat anything that didn’t eat him first,” she said patiently.
“Not Suzy’s cake,” Corrato muttered to Liam as he retreated. “Dry as sawdust. Ask Prince.”
Mai brushed her hand across Liam’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
He heard the door open behind him, then close. A couple of minutes went by and Mai came out with two more plastic cups of Coke. She sat on the step, handed him the cups, and then took a pint of rum from under her arm and twisted off the cap.
“Your dad was looking for that.”
“I bet he was.” She poured a healthy portion into both and screwed the cap back on. “I hope Dad wasn’t too big a pest.”
“Not at all.” When she set the bottle beside her, he handed her one of the cups.
“Cin-cin.” She touched her cup to his and took a sip.
“Okay, so out with it,” he said, drinking from his cup. The taste of the rum was sharp in the sweet cola. He wished she’d skipped the cola.
“Here?” She looked around. “I’ve got, like, a hundred cousins inside. They’ve already grilled me as to who you are. Someone might hear us.”
“They’re eating Suzy’s dry cake,” he said flatly. “Now tell me why someone killed seventy-something-year-old Donato Ricci and are now after your father.”
“I don’t know.”
He cut his eyes at her.
“I swear I don’t.”
He took another sip of the foul concoction and set the cup between his feet on the ground. “Okay,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s start with the simple questions.”
Chapter 5
“Tell me about you and your dad.”
She took a minute. He could tell she was choosing her words carefully, which was smart on her part if she was hiding something, which she obviously was. Her approach might not help him get to the bottom of this any faster, but he liked her all the more for her caution.
“My dad raised me. He met my mom when he was in Vietnam. She was some sort of beauty queen. He was there at the fall of Saigon, and when the soldiers evacuated, he had to leave her. But eventually, he brought her to the States and married her. They had me and he tried to make her happy, but she missed her home and her family. She left when I was three. I don’t even remember her.”
“Your father remarried?”
She shook her head.
“But he still wears a wedding ring.”
“I think he really loved her. He never quite got over the fact that she couldn’t love him back.” She smoothed the hem of her dress over her bare knees, took a drink, and went on in a soft voice. “When I was eight, my dad said the neighborhood in New Jersey where we lived was going downhill, that we needed a fresh start. So we mo
ved here.”
“Why Delaware?” Liam was always curious as to why humans went where they did. Vampires moved from place to place out of self-preservation, either to better feeding grounds or to escape danger. The Kahills had been running for their lives when they found Delaware the night their ship wrecked in a storm in the seventeenth century.
“He had a friend from the war here who offered him a job. Dad was an electrician. It was a way out of Jersey, and a way to get away from his family, gracefully.”
“I hear a little tone there,” Liam observed.
She half-smiled. “The Riccis are a very close-knit Italian family.”
“Meaning, controlling.”
Again, the little smile. “His parents and brother threw a fit. Threatened to disown him, never speak to him again. He packed up his little girl and came here anyway. After a while, I think his family forgave him. Sort of. Anyway, enough so that we still spent most holidays with them.”
“You said these people here are your cousins.”
“His mom’s side. She had nieces and nephews who lived in the area. My dad still thought family was important, so even though he kept me at a distance from his dad’s side of the family, he made sure I had cousins to play with growing up.”
“And your dad had other siblings besides his brother?”
“Just a sister. Donato was the oldest. He ran the family business with their father and took over after his death. That was an issue between him and my dad for a long time, that Dad refused to work in the family business.”
“And what was the business di famiglia?”
“Imports,” she said into her cup. “I don’t even know exactly what they imported. Dad never talked much about them and when I asked questions, he avoided answering, so after a while, I stopped asking.”
“That how you got into selling antiques?”
“Not really. My dad liked old things and we used to go around to yard sales and antiques stores on weekends. Pretty soon he’d bought more than the house could hold, so he started selling things off the lawn. He’d buy a couple chairs, refinish them, and then sell them. When he retired, he opened the shop. I got a degree in nursing, was living in Dover, pretty happy with my job, and then about five years ago, Dad had a heart attack. I took time off to take care of him, ran the shop until he was on his feet again, and then just never went back to my old job.”
Ravenous Page 4
