"We have records showing that your blood bank has been shipping untested blood all over the state for many years. It was only discovered by accident, but Bartok Laboratories has a mandate to test blood supplies before shipping and they're wondering what's going on here." He paused and then added, "It would be unfortunate if the federal authorities had to be called in to straighten this out."
Kreeg blanched all the way from his receding hairline to his chin. He leaned forward and placed his arms on his desk, knotting his hands together. "I'm sorry, who did you say you were?"
Alan lied, "I'm a representative of Bartok. Bette Kinyo sent me. She called, but someone here told her that her records were incorrect."
The man sank back again, his hands coming unglued to grip the arms of his chair. "Ms. Kinyo was told the truth. I don't know how she has come up with this information about Strand-Catel. We never ship blood before testing. It's a monumental mistake, Mr. . . ."
"Star. Alan Star."
"Mr. Star. I can show you our own records, if you'd like. Not all of the place is run as . . . messily as my office." He smiled. "In fact, we can show you records going back as many years as you like. They all show quite different information than what Ms. Kinyo has been going on about."
Alan didn't like that. "Going on about" indeed. "It seems, then," he said, "that there is a difference of opinion. I have to tell you, Mr. Kreeg, that Bartok does not make mistakes either. And this being a serious allegation, it will have to be investigated thoroughly."
Kreeg spread out his hands in the air. "I don't know what to tell you. I am stating the facts as I know them as the manager of this institution. You're perfectly free to go over our own records. I can have my secretary take you . . ."
When Kreeg leaned forward to push a button on his intercom, Alan stood and shook his head. "I have no choice but to believe you. I don't have time to check today. However, be assured someone from Bartok will be coming to see you again soon."
Alan left the office, shutting the door behind him without saying a formal good-bye. He was being hoodwinked and he knew it. But it was obvious Kreeg had all the records on hand that would show the opposite of what Bette's records indicated and to get deeper into their true files, if they even existed, would take more than a cursory investigation. Bette would have to send someone from her department to put the heat on these people. They were not going to admit they'd been shipping out their blood supplies without any other organization double-checking their operations.
But what did all this have to do with hunting down vampires? Alan asked himself as he left the building. The idea had been a shot in the dark; he'd known that even when Bette had called with her discovery. Kreeg certainly didn't fit Alan's idea of a vampire. He was florid and heavyset, a middle management type of guy who bought his white shirts wholesale and wore brown wing-tip shoes to work. Besides, would vampires have need of a blood bank? Didn't they just grab people and suck out their blood?
Alan wanted to slap his own face. This was the nuttiest thing he'd ever done—signing on with Upton and agreeing to find him a living vampire. Here he was harassing blood bank managers, for heaven sakes, and imagining they shipped blood surreptitiously around the state for vampires to drink! If he wasn't insane, he was teetering. He had taken on Upton's insanity, that's what must have happened. What was he doing here in Dallas when he was needed in the hospital in Houston? How had he thought he would even pretend to do what Upton wanted?
He chastised himself all the way to Landry's Restaurant, where he ordered shrimp salad and sat alone drinking a draft beer while his food was being prepared. Bette wouldn't be home from the lab until after six. He had told her he would come back and report on his meeting with Kreeg, but he had something else in mind before he did that. One more bit of insane detective work and then he'd stop this charade and go back to his normal life as a doctor and a healer.
He meant to stake out Bette's house. From the time she returned home from work, until around nine at night, he decided he would park at a distance and watch her place to see if the mysterious stranger came back to do her harm. He didn't buy that stuff Bette said about he wasn't human. How he'd just appeared and then disappeared. Why was it everyone around him had taken a slow train around the bend suddenly? First Upton, now Bette. Vampires. Apparitions.
He stabbed his fork into the shrimp salad, speared a mayonnaise-drenched shrimp, and popped it into his mouth. He had an hour to kill before he called Bette and told her he'd be late. And then he would drive over to the scary, tumbling-down neighborhood Bette loved so much and sit in his locked car to wait.
15
Dell had slept fitfully the night before, waking in sweats from dreams of pursuit. She would fall asleep again only for the dream to resume.
She had trouble concentrating in class all day. When Ryan Major stopped her in the hall outside their shared history class, she felt sluggish and inattentive. She was not tired, she realized, as much as she was just dim. She might as well be a tarnished mirror sitting in a dark attic, reflecting dust motes. "What?" she asked, unsure of what he'd said to her.
"I asked if you had a boyfriend."
She almost laughed in his face. Boyfriend! She had trouble keeping her best friends from childhood now. She hadn't talked to Cheyenne in days. How could she hope to interest the opposite sex?
Then she snapped to attention, and her eyes widened. Ryan had asked the question because he wanted to know if the field was open.
She looked into his dark eyes and wanted the same relationship he did, in fact, wanted it more. But Mentor had warned her. She should not let down her guard. She changed more and more each day, becoming a separate being, and what boy would understand her? If he did, how could he want to be with her?
"No," she said, carefully, "I don't have a boyfriend. I . . . I . . ."
"I know it was a dumb question, but I didn't know anyone else to ask about you. Listen, do you think we could go out this weekend? A movie? Dancing?"
The word yes was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't say it. Instead, she pushed past him, mumbling, "No, I couldn't." She knew how rudely she was behaving, and hoped it would discourage him. Yet, she felt him on her heels, his hand reaching out to touch her.
"Well, we could do something else . . ."
She whirled on him so fast kids in the hall turned and looked. "I said no!"
Hurt surprise covered his face as he turned away from her. She wanted to rush after him and take it back. She hadn't had to be so awful to him. It wasn't his fault. He thought she hated him. He didn't know the reason she was treating him so shabbily.
"Ryan," she called.
He turned warily. "Yes?"
"Look, I'm sorry. It's not you. It's me. I'm not . . . not myself lately." She adjusted the sunglasses on her nose as if to emphasize her words.
He shrugged, and she could still see the hurt lingering on his face. "It's okay." He turned and left her standing there, students milling around her as if she were a stone in a swiftly flowing stream.
She hung her head and moved into the crowd, heading for her next class. She imagined her misery was like a billboard hung around her neck. Despair came over her, bringing such a heaviness she thought she would have to run out of the school and all the way home.
He'd just asked her to a movie. She might have gone with him. It wasn't a crime to go to a movie with a friend, was it?
She turned back to see if she could find him in the crowd. She pushed against people, moving through them until she saw him ahead. She didn't know how she could take back the decision not to go out with him, but she was going to try. Looking stupid was preferable to being alone.
Then she saw him stop in the hall and speak to a girl dressed in black jeans. She wore a tattered black top that reached only to her waist, exposing a lily white belly. Dell recognized her as one of the group who called themselves "vampyres." A Loden girl, part of Loden's group. The girl wore black lipstick that caused her lips to pout. Heavy black mas
cara made her lashes long enough to sweep her cheeks.
Well. Ryan might have picked her for his first choice for a date, but this girl was next on his list. Or had she been the first one he had asked? How many others had he asked before her and how many did he have lined up to ask after the little vamp girl?
Feeling a wave of anger unlike any she'd felt in ages, she turned on her heel and stalked in the opposite direction down the hall. To hell with him. She was right to brush him off. She never should have apologized and she certainly never should have gone after him to let him know she'd changed her mind. She hoped he hadn't noticed.
He was just like the other boys, out looking for a good time with any female handy. He didn't like her specifically or anything; he just wanted someone to go out with and maybe someone to have sex with. He wasn't anything like she'd thought he was. He wasn't special. She didn't care who he went out with. Let him get involved with the crazy cult girls for all she cared. They deserved him.
For the rest of the day not only was she oblivious to the instructors in her classes, but she burned with indignation unlike any she'd ever experienced before. Mentor had warned her about escalating emotions. Well, she was in the eye of an emotional storm. All she could think about was Ryan. His very dark blue eyes. His sweet manners and the way he was kind of innocent and gentle. The look of his shoulders and hips as he walked.
The way he bent over the girl in dark clothes, so interested in what she was saying. The way he hadn't protested when she'd said no, but had turned away at once as if marking her off the list.
At home after school, Dell threw herself on the sofa and turned on the television. Eddie came from his room and, seeing her sprawled on the couch, said, "What's wrong?"
"What do you mean, 'what's wrong'? Nothing's wrong." She stabbed the remote control, switching channels, looking for the Comedy Channel.
"Yeah, something's wrong. You can't fool me. So what is it?"
"Eddie?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up, will you? And leave me alone.”
“Fine." He left the room and headed for the kitchen. "Hey," he called, "you hungry?"
"No!" She wished she'd never gotten sick, never changed, never had to taste blood again. If she were alive, she could date Ryan, the way she'd wanted to. She could go out with anyone. She could have lived a normal life, gone to college on a scholarship, had a career, married and maybe even started a family. Now all she had to look forward to was misery and a sense of bereavement. She would make loneliness her friend and separate herself from the real world.
She leaped from the sofa, dropping the remote control on the coffee table. Her parents weren't home from work yet, so she'd let Eddie know her plans. "I'm going to ride my horse," she yelled toward the kitchen.
"I thought you did that on weekends?"
"Oh, go to hell, Eddie. Leave me alone. I'll be back before dark, just tell Mom for me."
She hurried out the door and to the car. She remembered what Mentor had told her about controlling her emotions, riding rein on them and staying master of her actions, but she couldn't seem to follow the advice.
Well, to hell with Mentor, too. He didn't have to go to high school and pretend he was one of the others. He didn't have to push away relationships and spend every weekend alone, dateless, like some ugly duckling no one could ever love.
Before she reached the car she saw Carolyn coming down the sidewalk. "Hey," she called, smiling, waving.
Dell stood waiting for her, unable to wipe the frown from her face.
"What's up? Were you going somewhere?”
“Yeah. To ride my horse."
"Oh." Carolyn looked disappointed.
"I'm sorry, I need to get away for a while."
Behind Dell came Cheyenne's voice. "Hey, you two, can I join in the fun?"
Jesus, Dell thought. It's turning into a block party. "Hi, Carolyn. Dell, were you going somewhere?"
Cheyenne was looking at the car keys in Dell's hand. "To ride my horse."
"Horse! You got a horse? Oh, my God. I know I haven't been over lately, but when did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?"
Dell didn't know what to say. She looked to Carolyn for support.
Carolyn caught the pleading look and said to Cheyenne, "She got it for her birthday."
"That's not till June. An early birthday present! Anyway, that's seriously cool, Dell. I know you always wanted a horse."
Dell melted, remembering how Cheyenne cared for her and had been her friend for so long. They'd shared everything until now. "I can go another time," she said, holding up the keys.
"Not on your life. Go on, I'll see you at school. Nice to see you, Carolyn. Call me, Dell, okay?" Cheyenne waved and turned back the way she'd come.
Dell looked at her cousin. "Thanks. I got tongue-tied."
"No problem. I guess I'll go back home, too. Cheyenne's right, you should ride the horse before it gets too late in the evening."
Dell hugged her and opened the car door. She saw Carolyn leaving and called out, "Tell Aunt Celia I'll come over to visit this week."
"Okay. See you."
Dell sat in the car a moment, noting that her earlier anger and frustration had leaked away. She started the car and backed onto the street. She had thought she would never be able to live as a Natural, interacting with humans and behaving the way they did. Not when she felt so much anger. So much envy. But as long as she had friends and family who loved her, she might make it.
It was all so new. Before the change, she'd never felt so much anger and never been envious of anyone. Her whole personality was evolving and not for the best, she thought. She was letting the fury overcome and take away the hurt. It was all she knew to do.
The tires squealed and as she punched the accelerator. Riding could help. She would take Lightning on the riding path and be alone. She only wanted to forget all the things in the world she was going to miss now. Most of all she wanted to forget Ryan was going out with Lori on Saturday night.
~*~
Rebuffed by Dell, Ryan stopped a girl named Lori and asked her out for Saturday night. He picked her at random, liking the way she looked. Although she was not as pretty as Dell, she was no dog. She accepted, but suggested he might like to accompany her tonight to a party with her friends. "Loden's friends," she amended.
"Who's Loden?"
"You'll see." She smiled. "You'll like our friends." There was an intriguing twinkle in her eye. The rest of the day Ryan wondered if he would.
Like Loden's friends, that is. Lori's friends. He knew who they were. The kids who were into heavy metal, gothic literature, body piercing, and thumbing their noses at society. But Lori herself was pretty cute. She was as perky as a cheerleader in Halloween drag. She was no Dell, that was true. But Dell had made it obvious she wasn't interested. It had cut him deeper than he thought it might. Damnit.
Well, Lori was going to show him a good time, introduce him to some people. She'd help occupy his time, help him fit into the new school, at least with the cult. He wasn't a jock, he had no aspirations as an academic, where else was he to fit anyway? He was really sort of a country boy, a ranch hand, used to hauling hay and cleaning horse stalls on his grandfather's land. The ranch boys didn't have a group, though, so that left him on his own.
It worried him that he might not fit in with Lori's group either. What did he know about Dracula and body-piercing and tattoos and drinking blood? Nothing, nada. Maybe Lori would instruct him. He really was looking for something besides a girlfriend, and why not what a cult had to offer? At least he'd check it out; no harm in that. No harm at all.
That night at the party he had a chance to reassess his own idea of "harm." First, he wasn't exactly accepted on sight. The other people in the house, which was apparently given over for the night to the younger generation with no parent present, rigorously ignored him. Lori said, noticing his discomfort, "Don't worry about it. They'll come around."
"Which one's Loden?"
"Oh, he's not here yet. He doesn't own a watch, doesn't go by time. No telling when he might show up. If he does." She shrugged.
Maybe the others would come around. Maybe he should have made a concerted effort to dress in black clothes and move his body as if it were mired in molasses. It seemed the people in the house were drugged on something that slowed them to a crawl. Quaaludes, pot, something. Their eyes were dull and their gestures small. They seemed unsteady, but mannered in the way people were when having to be careful where they put their feet in case they might stumble. At one point he was offered a hit off a monster joint and declined. Another faux pas, evidently, because after that no one made the slightest attempt to engage him in conversation.
Lori sat beside him on the sofa. He tried to ask her about the scene they were stuck in, but she evaded him. Instead, she talked about school, her plans to go to Europe and stay in hostels after graduation, and how cool it was not to have to "perform" at a party like this, how it was just enough to "be."
He had to admit he just didn't get it. He really didn't get it when the first bloodletting began. Lori touched him on the arm to direct his attention. He'd been daydreaming, idly munching potato chips from a bowl in his lap, wondering if there was anything good on TV. He'd seen one in the family room. When he turned at Lori's touch, he saw a skinny young man slip his black turtleneck over his head. He brought a pocketknife from his pocket and opened the blade. Ryan saw lamplight shine off the blade and it made him shiver deep inside. Oh, man. Oh, man.
A girl, his girl, Ryan guessed, was kneeling at the boy's feet. Without preamble, and before the crowd gathered so that Ryan could not see what was happening, the knife was making five quick slits in the boy's upper arm. They weren't deep, but blood welled immediately. As soon as he'd cut himself, he wiped the blade on his jeans, folded it shut, and slipped it into his pocket. Then he bent over the girl on the floor, thrusting out his arm to her. She bowed her head and began to lick at the blood, a look of ecstasy on her face.
HORROR THRILLERS-A Box Set of Horror Novels Page 37
