Crave

by Karen E. Taylor

  So were the glass booths I glimpsed beyond a partial wall. We entered the actual cell area and once again my feeling of pent-up anxiety returned. Not for me this time, but in sympathy for the hunched-over figure occupying the very last booth.

  Larry sat on the edge of a narrow bunk, his elbows on his knees, his head resting on his hands, his shoulders shaking. I rubbed my hands nervously over my pant legs. Why did I feel I had to see him? Wouldn’t I have been better off not knowing his condition?

  “No,” I said aloud and Ron looked at me in confusion. “Sorry, just a little argument with myself. Can I talk to him?”

  “Sure,” Ron said, walking over to the wall and throwing a switch. Suddenly the room was filled with the whistling sound of air being forced into the chamber. Starting low, then growing louder and louder as the air filled his lungs, we could hear Larry sobbing. I gasped. The sound system obviously worked both ways because he heard me and raised his head. Our eyes met and some of the despair in his demeanor lifted, to be replaced with a glimmer of hope. He jumped up from the bed and flung himself at the wall, fingers splayed on its surface, his face so close that his features were distorted in the thick glass.

  “Deirdre.” There was no mistaking the relief in his voice. “Shit, I’m so happy to see you. Hell, I’d be happy to see anyone right now. Even Mitch’s ugly face. How long have I been here? And what took you so long?”

  “I’m sorry, Larry. I wasn’t sure they’d let me see you. . . .” The lie was apparent, even to him.

  A twisted smirk replaced the pleased smile that had been on his face. “I know, and you didn’t exactly rush to find out, right?” Larry shrugged and laughed. “No, it’s okay, really, why should you? I mean, what am I to you that you should care?”

  I sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Larry, you are my responsibility. One that I have neglected, I confess. And I apologize for that. But I’m here now and I want to help if I can. We can talk; you can communicate with me, tell me your needs, your fears.”

  “You’re here now? Actually, you’re there and I’m stuck in here. How can we communicate through this wall? I mean really communicate? And shouldn’t I have gotten bail or something? I haven’t been convicted of anything yet. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

  Ron laughed. “That’s not a Cadre rule, Martin. Don’t push your luck.”

  Larry struck at the glass wall with his fist. The noise was amplified through the microphone and I jumped. He continued punching to emphasize his words. “Oh, that Ronny is a brave one.” Thump. “It’s fucking easy to laugh when you’re on the other side, isn’t it, buddy?” Thump. “Let’s trade places and see how much you like it.”

  “No thanks.” Ron made a grimace of distaste and turned to me. “Deirdre, are you sure you want to talk to this creature?”

  “Yes, I do, Ron. I want to. I have to.” I gave Larry a quelling glance, which seemed to calm him, then looked back to Ron. “And I’d like to see him inside the room, if I may.”

  “Jesus, Deirdre, I’m not sure you should do that.”

  “Are there rules against it?”

  “Well, no, not really. But he’s a strange one. He might hurt you.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “Ron, what on earth could he possibly do to me? He has no weapons, and no defenses. I think I can reach him, make a difference to the way he is, but I can’t do it through a wall of glass.” I reached out and touched Ron’s arm gently, looking up into his face, studying his eyes. “We’ve been friends, good friends, all things considered. You may stay and watch if you need to, but let me go in. And turn off the microphone. This should be a private discussion. Please.”

  It was the last word that settled him, I think. And although I could tell he was not happy about the situation, he agreed. “Stand back, Martin,” he said in a sharp voice. Larry moved quickly to the end of his cot. “Okay, Deirdre,” Ron said, his hand resting on another switch on the wall, “the door will open for just a few seconds. Once you’re inside, you’ll be sealed in with him. And when I turn the microphone off, the air goes, too. Although there should be enough in there for at least a half an hour of conversation.” He looked over at Larry and back at me. “Are you really sure you want to do this?”

  “It’s the only way, Ron.”

  “Okay,” he said reluctantly, then grinned at me, “you always do this to me. Talk me into doing things I don’t want to do. It’s not fair, you know. And Victor will have my ass for this if anything goes wrong. But you know I’ve never been able to resist the pleas of a lady in distress, especially yours.”

  I smiled back at him. “Yes, I know, Ron. Don’t worry; I’ll take full responsibility for any consequences.” I stretched up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  He motioned me to the corner of the cell and I stood there waiting, until the glass slid aside, leaving a very thin opening the height of the cell. I squeezed through quickly and heard the panel thump closed behind me with a finality that echoed through the room.

  Larry still stood placidly at the end of his bunk. “Nice place, huh? I bet the room they gave you and the hubby is just a little bit better furnished, but I suppose they figured this is good enough for the poor relatives.” Then he held out his arms in a welcoming gesture. “But I’m forgetting my manners, please, sit down.”

  I settled in on the edge of the bed and Larry walked over to the outermost cell wall. He knocked on it. “Okay, Ron, you can turn off the mike now.” Ron’s eyes met mine across the room, I nodded and the switch was turned. The whistling sound dwindled, then stopped; other than my low breathing we were surrounded by total silence.

  “So,” Larry moved over and sat next to me. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” His voice was sad without any trace of anger or vindictiveness.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Larry. And I’ve come to the conclusion that what you have become is my fault. I shouldn’t have left town knowing you were here, knowing what you were. Of all of the Cadre, I’m the only one who can understand the total solitude you’ve been experiencing, the confusion, and the fear, because I have done to you what Max did to me.”

  “Oh.”

  I don’t know what kind of explanation he’d expected to hear, but from his reaction this hadn’t been it. Still, I continued. “I am truly sorry, Larry. I should have stayed. I should have helped you, taught you, led you the way you needed to go.”

  He brushed off my words. “None of that shit matters now. But do you think,” his voice wavered and I was afraid he would begin to cry again, “I mean, can you get me out of here? Please, Deirdre,” he reached over and touched my hand, then grasped it in his. “This is horrible. You can’t imagine how awful it is, to be locked away in this stinking place.” He dropped my hand and jumped up, pacing the room. “You should have let Mitch kill me. It would have been better. Anything would be better than this.”

  “Larry, I’m sorry, I thought this would be, well, more bearable. I really had no idea.”

  “You promised me it would be okay.” Larry’s voice grew petulant, whining. “You said that it would be okay if I came with you. That you would help me, take care of me. And then you calmly let them take me away and lock me up. Down here where there’s no sound, no air, no food. Just the damn lights and eternity ticking away a second at a time.”

  I lowered my head and opened my mouth to speak. “Larry, I . . .”

  “Oh, I know,” he interrupted, spinning around to snarl at me, “you’re sorry, so very sorry. Fat lot of good that does me. You say you’re responsible for what I’ve done, but hell, you go scot-free and I’m the prisoner. How long, Deirdre? How long do you think you could handle this situation?”

  “Not very long, Larry. Probably for less time than you have already. But what can I do now? Until the trial, you have to stay here. I’ve no control over it anymore.”

  “Oh, but you do.” He came over and knelt before me, taking my hands into his again.

  “Wha
t can I do now?” I repeated. “I can’t fight the Cadre. Jesus,” my voice rose, sounding strangely dead in the static air, “I couldn’t even fight them for myself. The only reason I’m not occupying the cell next door,” I shuddered, “is because Max’s ghost spoke for me.”

  “Well, I don’t imagine I’ll be that lucky. But there is something you can do.” Larry’s voice lowered to a whisper and he glanced over his shoulder to see if Ron was watching. He was, but not intently. He was confident that both Larry and I were under his complete control and his relaxed stance confirmed it.

  Larry shrugged and looked back up at me. “You could kill me. Kill me and put me out of my misery. This is hell, Deirdre, a hell you sent me to. Kill me, now. Please. I won’t even try to stop you. I’d do it myself if I could.”

  “Oh, God, Larry.” I pulled my hands away from his and covered my face, pressing in on my eyes, trying to prevent the tears. “I don’t think I can. Not in cold blood. Not even if you beg me to.”

  “You’re too soft, Deirdre. But you could have Mitch do it. He’d do it if you asked him to. Hell, he’d be overjoyed to kill me, he already said so. The only thing that stopped him from killing me was you.”

  I shook my head and gave a humorless laugh, dropping my hands back to my lap. “Yes, you’re probably right. But I don’t know, Larry. I just don’t know.”

  “Deirdre,” he grasped my wrists and brought my hands down to his face. “You have to help me. You just do. Here, feel how it is, see how it feels to be me.”

  I tried to pull away from him, but he was strong. I made the mistake of raising my head and meeting his eyes. And I fell deep into his madness.

  Fell deep into his hunger. This was the hunger of last night, the blinding red hunger that allowed no other feeling. It took hold of me and I began to shake. Larry’s anger and pain were mine. We were one. I screamed and as if from far away, I heard an odd rasping noise, heard a voice from outside calling a name I should have known. But the voices inside were stronger, the roar of the creature that lived within me, the roar of the creature that sought to control my soul. I cried out again, a half-human, half-feline call of distress and despair.

  Larry’s hands slipped from mine and he seemed to fold in on himself, collapsing into a misshapen lump on the floor. I roared again and felt the air pressure in the room change. Ron had opened the door.

  Before I could even react, I felt a wisp of air pass me, heard the high-screeching call of victory, saw a winged body fly past a startled Ron and out the door. I felt the elation and expectation wash over him as he disappeared from sight. “Death,” he sang. “I fly to find death and freedom.”

  Chapter 11

  With Larry’s influence gone, I was able to force my body back from the partial transformation it had already made. When my mind cleared and I was myself again I discovered that I was alone and trapped inside the cell. The door had snapped closed before I could escape. Ron, I assumed, had gone in pursuit of Larry.

  Grateful for the time alone, I sat back down on the cot and tried to calm my shaking and collect my thoughts. The first one that ran through my head was: Victor would not be pleased. I laughed grimly at that monumental understatement.

  Looking to the doorway, I spoke out loud. “Victor is going to have us both for dinner, Ron. And we’ll deserve it.” But how could anyone have known that Larry had achieved the power of transformation so quickly? He’d only been a vampire for a little over two years. And he’d have had no training.

  Or, and my distrust of Vivienne surfaced anew, maybe he had. What if she’d been working with Larry for the past two years? Teaching him the tricks of the trade? She seemed secure in the knowledge that she could instruct Mitch in the mysteries and he was only a few months into his existence. “Damn.”

  I turned on the cot, pulled my legs up, and wrapped my arms around them, hugging them close to my body, noticing as I did so that my jeans were ripped in a few places. A totally irrelevant thought made me laugh. “I had better get the hang of this changing pretty soon, or it’s going to cost me a fortune in clothing.” I flexed my toes a bit, easing the stiffness from them. At least this time I hadn’t lost a pair of shoes, too.

  “Clothing should be the least of your worries right now, Deirdre.”

  Victor stood in the doorway, by the control panel on the wall. I resisted the impulse to jump to attention at his presence and just swiveled my head to meet his angry gaze. “Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just leave you in there?” he asked, his long aristocratic fingers playing with the controls. “I could flip on the sunlights and close the door. A year or so locked up in here might teach you caution. Or at least respect for authority.”

  I sighed. “Actually, Victor, I have no reasons and no excuses. Do what you want. I’m hardly in any position to prevent you.”

  “But I am.” Mitch appeared behind Victor. “Let her out, Lange, or so help me, I’ll bring you down. Right here, right now.”

  Victor did not turn to meet him; instead he shook his head slowly and a smile played on his lips. “It was my idea to enlist your help, you know.” He spoke to me as if Mitch was not present. “Not all of the Cadre was in favor of asking a rogue to come in and meddle in our internal affairs. You are an unknown quantity to them and hence, a danger. I argued that I needed you here for those same qualities and I still feel that way. When it turned out that we had not just one rogue to work with, but two, they were not happy. Fortunately,” and the smile on his face broadened, “I have the final say in matters such as this, but,” he turned the switch on the wall and the glass panel slid open, “before you pull a stunt like this again, promise me you’ll think long and hard.”

  I squeezed myself through the opening, took a large breath of fresh air as I did so, and exhaled in relief. Mitch came to me and put an arm around my waist, hugging me close to him. I returned Mitch’s hug, then moved away from him and started toward the doorway, anxious to put the place and the event behind me.

  “To say I’m sorry, Victor, wouldn’t be exactly true. This setup has got to be one of the cruelest forms of torture ever imagined. And I’m not sure if anyone kept here deserves this particular punishment, regardless of the crime. But you must believe that I didn’t come down here with the intention of setting Larry free.”

  “Of course you didn’t, my dear, it’s just that unexpected things happen when you’re around. And for what it’s worth,” Victor looked back over his shoulder and locked the main door before following us into the hallway, “I’ve always felt the same way about this place. This was never my idea, you know; it’s one of Max’s little brainstorms. I always felt that death was far preferable to incarceration.”

  “Interestingly enough,” I observed, “so does Larry, at least now.”

  “Good,” Mitch said as we reached the elevator, “then when we catch him again we can just kill him without having to worry about consulting him first.”

  “Indeed,” Victor agreed with a low laugh. “Mitch, there are times when you and I are in complete agreement; there are other times when I understand why you never progressed past the level of detective in your mortal life.”

  Mitch bristled and Victor laughed again. “It’s not a bad quality, you understand, this questioning of authority and the determination to go against it in the face of your conscience. It just rarely endears one to superior officers.” The elevator door opened and the three of us got on. Victor pushed the floor for the Cadre’s living quarters; I noticed that no key was needed for the upward trip. So did Mitch.

  “I see that your security on the way up is slack. How many people have you actually had escape from down there?”

  Victor cleared his throat, nervously. “Larry was the first one. But then he was also the first rogue to ever be incarcerated. Damn it, I can hardly believe he was capable of escape. His powers should never have been that fully developed. For one as young as he, he had an abnormally strong will. With Cadre members, it usually only takes twenty-four hours in
the cell and a full barrage of the sun lamps to bleed away all resistance. This event will surprise some people, shock others, and confirm old beliefs . . .”

  “Those old beliefs being?” I knew what they were, I had heard enough of them spoken and implied during my trial by the Cadre. But I wanted Victor to admit the facts. And I wanted Mitch to hear what these vampires, of whom he was so enamored, thought of beings like him and me.

  Victor dropped his eyes and studied the floor. “The only good rogue is a dead rogue.”

  “Does that include us?” Mitch took a defensive stance, positioning himself between me and Victor.

  “Actually, Mitch, your status is questionable. You are, after all, being trained by another vampire. And your reactions and sentiments seem to closely resemble ours.”

  The elevator stopped. “You know, Victor,” Mitch said, “I’m not so sure that’s a compliment.”

  Victor snorted. “No, from your point of view, I suppose it’s not.”

  “How about Deirdre? What is the official Cadre decision on her status?”

  The three of us stood in the hallway and Victor gave me a calculating glance. “Had she accepted our offer of her own house last year, we would have welcomed her as one of us. But her disdain of the organization was then and is now apparent in her every move. She is a rogue in our eyes. I doubt after this event she will ever be viewed as anything else. And ultimately, we know that your true sentiment lies with her, Mitch.”

  He started down the hallway, then turned back. “Tomorrow evening the Cadre will be meeting to discuss plans for the recapture and disposal of Larry Martin. If I were you, I’d make definite plans to be there. And I’d also watch my back. Have a good evening.”

  Once back in our room, I collapsed on the bed. Mitch sat next to me and stroked my hair. “Still hungry?” he asked. “Do you feel up for a hunt tonight?”

  “No, but we need to do something. I want to be out of this place for a while. And I am sure I can work myself into the proper mood.”