Crave

by Karen E. Taylor

  Claude shook his head. “Even so, I cannot take you to him.”

  I reached over and touched his hand, not so gently sinking my nails into his skin. His eyes rose to meet mine. “But of course you can, Claude,” I said, smiling. “Of course you can. In fact, it will be your great pleasure to do this. Isn’t that true?”

  The expression on his face changed from reluctance to eagerness. “Of course, Miss Griffin. We can go right now if you’d like.”

  “Yes, I would like, Claude. Thank you so much.”

  He got up first, and Sam and I followed him. “What is this all about, Deirdre?” Sam whispered to me as we headed for the private elevator that led to Cadre headquarters.

  “Victor is about as senile as you, Sam. The old bastard set this whole thing up. Found a woman who looked enough like me to be me. Taught her. Financed her. With my money, I suspect, but that does not matter at this point. Then sent her to Maine to seduce Mitch away from me.”

  “Maybe not seduce,” Sam started to say, but Claude interrupted him.

  “Sam, I’m sorry, but you at least have to stay here,” he said. “Vivienne will have my hide if you set foot past the restaurant without her.”

  Sam glared at him. “I’m looking after Miss Griffin’s best interests. I should be there.”

  I gave him a small hug. “No need for you to get further involved, Sam. I will let you know how it all turns out.”

  “But who will protect you?”

  I looked at him for a second, my mouth twisted into a half smile. “The Cat, of course. As she always does.”

  The elevator door opened; Claude made a courtly gesture with his arm. “After you, Miss Griffin.”

  “I will be fine, Sam. Go home, get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow sometime. And thank you.” On impulse I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You’ll always be my white knight.”

  Claude had a smirk on his face as the doors closed.

  “What is your problem?” I demanded.

  “No problem. You seem pretty free and easy with Miss Courbet’s human, though. I’ll have something to trade her if she gets angry about this visit to Victor. I shouldn’t be taking you. Why am I taking you?”

  “Because I asked you.”

  He patted his forehead with his handkerchief again. “Yeah, that’s why.”

  The doors opened onto a maze of gray halls and a gray floor. I’d forgotten how bleak this place was. Elly’s boots made a horrible racket on the concrete floor. The last time I was here I was barefooted and the occupant of the cell was Larry Martin.

  I shivered, and Claude looked over at me. “Chilly down here, isn’t it?”

  I laughed, trying to hide my nervousness. “Someone should start a fire; it would do the place a world of good.”

  Claude inserted his key into the outer door. The waiting area had changed a bit. The sun lights were dimmer and the partial wall that used to screen the tanks had been converted to a full wall with a door.

  “It’s in here.” Claude moved over to the door that led to the holding room.

  “I know where it is, Claude. I have been here before, although it has changed a bit.”

  “We redid the area. For Victor, you know, so he would be more comfortable.”

  “That is admirable. Although how this place could ever be comfortable . . .” My voice trailed off.

  “Miss Griffin?”

  “Pardon me, Claude. Bad memories. You may go now.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not that crazed. I’m staying with you. I like having my skin on my body.”

  “Fine,” I agreed, thinking I would need what little strength it would take to convince him to leave for this meeting with Victor. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

  The tanks were bigger than I remembered. And Victor was getting first-class treatment, it seemed, since he sat in a burgundy velvet armchair sipping on a glass of wine. His room was lavishly furnished, but it was still only a cell. Not for the first time, I felt a wave of sympathy for the creature inside.

  Claude flipped a switch on the wall and I heard the whoosh of air within the tank. It still gave me the chills.

  “Hello, Victor,” I said, and he turned around and saw me.

  His face grew softer and he smiled a tender smile. “Are you back so soon, girl? I lose track of time in here. How did it go?”

  “Victor?” I moved closer to the thick glass wall so that he could see me clearer. His eyes opened wide and he smiled again, a different smile this time, cynical and intelligent. He was no more senile than I. And I had no doubt he was quite capable of pulling the unbelievable stunt I’d managed to piece together.

  “Victor, who the hell is Lily Williams?”

  Chapter 24

  “Open the door, Claude,” Victor ordered, ignoring my question, “and let me greet my dear old friend Deirdre.”

  “I can’t do that, Victor. You know I can’t.” Claude looked at me pleadingly. He was totally out of his element here. And had no choice, caught as he was between me and Victor.

  “Open the door, Claude,” I ordered, “and I will make sure you come to no grief with Vivienne as a result.”

  He looked back and forth between the two of us. Then he threw his arms up into the air. “I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. But since you two are here and Vivienne is off somewhere else, I’ll open the goddamned door.”

  He stomped over to the cell door and unlocked it, then walked to the door of the outer room. “I’ll even be a sport and give you some privacy.”

  Victor pushed open the door and watched until Claude left. “Don’t tell him, my dear, but I can actually get out anytime I want to. They expanded the cell with my full approval and from my plans. Of course, this was before they decided to put me away. But I knew it was coming. Did they think I was crazy enough to tell them the truth?”

  “They think you senile, Victor. It was all Claude could talk about. Sam, as well.”

  “And what do you think?” He bent over and took my hand, raising it to his lips and kissing it.

  “I think you are as sane as you ever were, Victor. For what that is worth. Are you going to answer my question?”

  He laughed. “You were always so direct, Deirdre, even to the point of rudeness. Here, come in, let me offer you a glass of wine.”

  “My question, Victor?”

  “Patience, Deirdre, patience.” He took me by the arm and led me to one of the armchairs. “Sit,” he said, then went over to the armoire and pulled out an extra glass.

  He settled into the other chair and poured my wine. “A toast to you, Deirdre. And congratulations.”

  I raised my glass, then stopped. “Congratulations? For what?”

  He looked at me and laughed. “You really do not know, do you? Such a deliciously convoluted situation and you have no idea. If only Max were here, he would appreciate the richness of the joke. But Max is not here”—his eyes narrowed and he scowled at me—“as well you know.”

  I drained my glass and helped myself to another. “Is that what this is all about, Victor? Revenge for Max’s death? I thought we had settled that score years ago.”

  “And we did, Deirdre. I bear you no ill will, really.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Forgive me if I say I find that rather hard to believe. For bearing me no ill will, you have certainly caused me a lot of pain.”

  “Pain? You dare to talk to me of pain?”

  I looked away from him. He was right. “I am sorry, Victor, I should not have said that.”

  He nodded. “Apology accepted. It’s old business, Deirdre. Let’s let it go. But why don’t you tell me how you think I have caused you pain?”

  I took a deep breath, feeling stupid and clumsy. “I think you found someone who looked like me and trained her to be me. And you sent her to Maine with instructions to seduce Mitch away from me so that I would be left alone.”

  “Then you know nothing, Deirdre. I did no such thing. And speaking of the devil, where is the intrepid Dete
ctive Greer?”

  “Gone. Packed up everything and left me. I can’t help but think it has something to do with this Lily Williams.”

  Victor shrugged. “Or could it be that you are grasping at straws and trying to find reasons in a situation where there are no reasons other than the obvious ones? Is it so impossible to think that Mitch got tired of you and took off? It wouldn’t be the first time in history and certainly won’t be the last. Weren’t you the one who once told me I shouldn’t count on constancy in love or friendship among vampires? Why must it have anything at all to do with Lily?”

  I bit my lower lip. He was right, unfortunately. I had been willing to take any explanation, no matter how far-fetched, in lieu of the truth. I felt tears form in my eyes and put my face into my hands.

  “Then again,” he said, and there was an edge to his voice that made me drop my hands and look up at him, “you may be close to the truth. With only the characters reversed.”

  “Reversed? What do you mean?”

  “Simply that I did not find Lily Williams, she found me. With the express purpose of finding and hurting you. I will admit to helping her, but she asked so nicely. And I always had trouble resisting a sweet-talking redhead.”

  “But why, Victor? Who am I to her that she should go to all this trouble?”

  “Who indeed? How much do you remember of your transformation?”

  “I remember all of it as if it only happened yesterday, Victor.”

  He nodded. “And how many months pregnant were you?”

  “Seven.”

  “And the blood that flowed through your veins also flowed into the baby?”

  “Well, yes, of course, it had to.”

  He nodded again. “And?” he asked, for all the world as if I was a slow student constantly missing the question.

  And then I realized I was missing the question. The question and the answer.

  The world stopped for me in that second. Unthinkable, I had said to Elly, and so it was. Unthinkable, but not impossible, “The baby?” My voice was less than a whisper, more like a gasp of pain. “My baby was alive?”

  “Not at first, no. She lay dormant for a while, how long exactly she wasn’t sure. No more than a few years, I would guess. But she had enough of Max’s blood in her veins to sustain her, and she woke up in the grave and dug her way to the surface.”

  “Oh, dear God.”

  Victor chocked his head to one side, a smug expression on his face as he handed me my glass and clinked his own against it. “And so you see, congratulations really are in order, my dear. You have a daughter. And I, I suppose, have a granddaughter. Of sorts. It is a complicated situation. I grew quite fond of her, poor little motherless waif.” He chuckled. “Although I daresay she’d hate that description.”

  “But why did she come to you? Why didn’t she come to me?”

  “I told you it is a rather complicated situation. Lily is unlike you and me. She ages and develops and grows, but very slowly. I would venture a guess that her physical and mental development is no older than twenty, despite the fact that she was born in 1860. She was found in the cemetery by a woman by the name of Philomena, a runaway slave skilled in the arts of what we now call Santeria. Fortunately, this woman recognized Lily for the hybrid that she is and passed the care of this special child to her daughters. But the last caretaker did not marry and so when she died, quite recently murdered as a matter of fact, Lily had no one.”

  “And she came to New York looking for me?”

  “Scraping together a pitiful amount of savings, she walked to the bus station and ended up here, yes. She followed an old newspaper article to Griffin Designs, met Betsy McCain. They dined at The Imperial the evening I met her.” He smiled and his eyes softened. “She’s a brave one, Deirdre. She came all the way down here to meet me knowing what I was. And she had me fooled for a while; I truly did think she was you. She’s good. She’s damn good. The amount of power that girl has stored up within her is amazing.”

  I nodded. “It all makes sense, now that you say it. But I should have known. Or Max should have known that such a thing was possible.”

  Victor shrugged. “Familial virtues were rather wasted on Max, Deirdre. You of all people should know that. He did what he wanted and the rest of us could be damned. To be fair to you, though, there is no way the situation could have been foreseen. Lily is unique.”

  I remembered, though, all of the tears I had wept for that stillborn child and the way the pain of our separation never dissipated. “No, Victor, I should have known.” I sipped at my wine, staring at nothing.

  “Perhaps it is a mother-and-child bond,” Victor said softly. “I am no better than Max was at such things.”

  “But why didn’t she come to me, Victor? I would have helped her, would have told her or given her anything she wanted.”

  “There is a simple answer to that, Deirdre. Very simple. She is a child still, a confused and angry child. Imagine the hurt she felt; the cruel fact of knowing that your mother abandoned you, birthed you and buried you and left you to rot. Intensify that by all of the years she spent in a less than desirable home situation, being cared for out of duty and not love. I grant you, this is not any more rational a reaction than your guilt, but it is just as real. You left her for dead and she hates you for that.”

  Chapter 25

  “So how does Mitch fit into all of this?”

  Victor put his head back and laughed. “Quite uncomfortably, I would think. One day Lily will let down her guard or even grow bored with the game, and he will wake up next to someone other than his beloved wife. Imagine his horror when he realizes that this is not just another woman—it is his wife’s daughter, his stepdaughter.” He laughed again, harder this time.

  “Victor, you are a sorry son of a bitch.”

  “Thank you, my dear, I do try. So I suppose you will be going after them now?”

  I sighed. “I do not have a choice, now that I know who Lily is. If she had been anyone else, merely another woman, I could have let it go. I would have had to let it go.”

  “Had to let it go? I would have thought you’d be angry enough to track them down and kill them.”

  “I am. And therefore, I could not. You have an animal form, do you not?”

  He blinked. “Actually, I have several. But it is not something we discuss readily. That form is a reflection of our inner instincts; it is often not complimentary or pretty. We are, after all, monsters under our human skins.”

  “Just so. I will not ask what form your baser instincts take.” I gave him a sharp look and then a small laugh. “I probably do not want to know. But have you ever had your animal form angered by another?”

  “To the point of wanting to kill? Of course.”

  “And what was the outcome?”

  “They died. And the problem is?”

  “I do not want Mitch dead. I will gladly live the rest of my life without him before being responsible for that. But the Cat is not of like mind.”

  “Ah. I see. You face an interesting dilemma, then. I have never been at odds with my inner form. It must be uncomfortable.”

  I laughed. “I always seem to be fighting something or someone, Victor. At least this time the enemy is easy to see.”

  “But not easy to eliminate. For what it is worth, Deirdre, I am sorry for your conflict. You must truly love him.”

  “Yes, I do. And for that, I am sorry.” I got up out of the chair and drained my wineglass. “I should be going now. New Orleans?”

  “Yes, that is where she should be.”

  “I will find her. Thank you, Victor.”

  He rose and walked to the door with me, kissed my hand again. “Why are you thanking me? If not for me, none of this would have happened.”

  “If Lily is as determined as you say, it would have happened regardless. At least you told me the truth. You will, however, give me back half of the money. As soon as possible.”

  “Only half?”

  Whe
n I didn’t answer, he smiled. “Of course, half of the money. I’ll have it taken care of tomorrow. And I will let you know when it is done.”

  I shook my head. “Victor, you are not senile. I will tell them if you want.”

  “Later, perhaps. I don’t mind the confinement as much as you’d think. I am comfortable, at least. And Iam old, Deirdre, so very old. And so very tired.”

  “Walk softly this night, Victor.”

  I started toward the outer door. “Deirdre?”

  Turning around, I was surprised at his grief-stricken expression. Even more surprised to see bloodstained tears streaking down his face. “Yes?” I said.

  “Go easy with her. She is a child. A beautiful child.”

  “I will try, Victor.”

  “See?” He wiped at his eyes in annoyance. “I really am an old man. But Lily—oh, she made me feel young again. Bring her back to me.”

  I nodded to him and opened the door. “Lock the cell again, Claude,” I called. “We have finished our visit. And no harm done.”

  “Thank you, Miss Griffin.” He hurried into the room; I heard the air turn off, heard the click of the tank door as it closed and shivered again.

  “What did you do to him?” Claude’s voice was a combination of accusation and awe. “I could swear he was crying.”

  “It has nothing to do with me, Claude. Now, can you show me to a room in the Cadre quarters? I need some rest.”

  “I had them get your old suite ready while I was waiting.”

  “That will do just fine. Thank you.”

  It was the same set of rooms, but it seemed different somehow. “No roses?” I asked Claude after he opened the door and handed me the key.

  “Roses? You want roses? I can get you some.”

  “No, I don’t want roses. May I ask you a question?”

  “Go ahead, Miss Griffin.”

  “First thing, please call me Deirdre. And how long have you been, ah, a member of the Cadre?”

  “Six and a half months.” His answer was immediate and exact.

  “Well, when Vivienne gets back in town, you should get her to fill you in on recent history. I doubt there are too many oldtime members of the Cadre who would want to see you walking down the hall bringing me roses. But thank you for the offer. And thank you for getting the room put together for me.”