At the bottom of the stairs, Madison could see a group of people gathered around the Dedhams' large dining table. When Dodie led her to the table, everyone stopped talking and turned to stare at her. Madison shifted from one foot to the other in discomfort.
In all, there were six people at the table. On one side sat Stacie Neroni and a middle-aged woman with short blond hair and a friendly, open face. Across from them sat Doug and a very goodlooking man dressed in black, with thick, black hair combed back and curling at his collar. He had an angular face partially covered by a close-cropped black beard. His nose was straight, his lips full. Black eyebrows bunched in displeasure above dark, intense eyes. Seated at the end closest to her was Mike Notchey. He was dressed in his off-duty uniform of jeans and sweatshirt, but the dark circles under his eyes and gauntness of his face suggested he hadn't been to bed all night. They all looked at her with furrowed brows of concern, except for the blond woman, who gave her a small smile of encouragement.
Madison gasped softly as her eyes traveled the length of the heavy wooden table to the far end. Seated at the head was the man Madison had seen in her dream. He wore a fine-knit sweater the color of fresh salmon, which played beautifully against his espresso skin, and sunglasses even though they were inside and it was only early morning.
A small, slow smile crossed his lips as he rose to greet her. "Miss Rose, we're very sorry we disturbed your sleep."
His voice was earthy and exotic, almost hypnotic. Hearing it, Madison fought the urge to ignore the others and go to him-to put her hand in his so she could once again feel the stroke of his fingers against her palm. But something inside her snapped her out of it. Instead, Madison crossed her arms in front of her, now glad Dodie had made her put on a bra and the bulky sweater.
Stretching out a long arm, the man at the end of the table indicated Stacie. "I believe you already know Stacie Neroni. Next to her is Kate Thornton"
The man next to Doug interrupted the introductions. "It is not necessary that she know our names, Samuel," he said in a voice with a cultured British accent.
Samuel turned his head toward the man who spoke. "Considering what we're going to ask of her, I think it's only courteous."
"I agree with Samuel," added Stacie, glaring at the man who'd interrupted.
"But of course you would," the man shot back at her in a snide tone. "You have your fangs so far up his arse, you can taste the 0 negative he had for breakfast."
Stacie stood up, fangs bared, and leaned across the table. "I'll show you fangs, you little pissant."
Terrified, Madison jumped back.
The man waved Stacie off like an annoying gnat. "Puritanical do-gooder."
Samuel rapped his knuckles on the table. "That's enough, you two. This is not the time and place for your petty mutual loathing." His voice was authoritative but not loud.
Stacie sheathed her fangs and sat down, but she remained ruffled and wary of her opponent, who seemed bored with the whole transaction.
After a moment's pause, Samuel continued his introductions. "The man, Miss Rose, who does not want you to know his name, is Colin Reddy." Colin glared at Madison, causing her to back up several more steps until she felt Dodie's hand on the small of her back, encouraging her to stand her ground.
"And, of course," Samuel continued, "you already know Doug and Mike."
Samuel placed his hand against his own chest. "And I am Samuel La Croix. With the exception of two members who were not able to be here this morning and Detective Notchey, this," he announced, with a small sweep of his hand, "is the governing board of the California Vampire Council." His smile widened. "Not a glamorous name, but I can assure you we get the job done when it comes to monitoring activities that concern the local vampire community, including internal grievances." He shot a stern look first at Colin, then at Stacie.
Mike Notchey indicated an empty chair next to him. "Sit down, Madison, here-next to me."
"Yes, please sit down, Madison," Samuel said, then paused. "I hope you don't mind me calling you Madison."
Madison looked back at Dodie, who encouraged her with a little nod to take a seat. As soon as she did, Samuel took his own again.
"Good," Samuel commented. He studied some papers before him. "We have a lot to discuss." He looked up at Madison. "I understand Mike told you about the rash of murders concerning young women?"
Unbidden, the photos Notchey had shown her came to mind. Madison shoved them aside and nodded. "Yes, I'm aware of them."
"We were beginning to think these had nothing to do with you," Samuel went on, "that maybe what happened to you was just a random occurrence, a coincidence. After all, you don't have a bloodline, and the other women did." He stopped and looked at her. His forehead furrowed in question, relaying the emo tion his sunglasses kept hidden. "I've been told you know about bloodlines."
Madison looked down at her left palm. "Yes," she replied, looking back up. "I know what it means." She found it easier to speak to Samuel without seeing his eyes, as if she were speaking to his back instead of his face.
"Now we're not so sure," Samuel went on, "that it doesn't have something to do with you."
Colin, slouched in his chair, caught Madison's eye and sent her a grimace, purposefully showing his fangs. He licked his lips. Madison shivered and hugged herself again.
"Stop it, Colin," demanded Samuel. "Grow up or leave. We'll still have a quorum without you."
Like a bad child only temporarily chastised, Colin rolled his eyes and put his fangs away.
"There's been another murder," Mike told her.
"Another?" Madison felt herself grow cold at the idea of another young woman ravaged by a monster.
"This one," added Stacie, "makes us think that what happened to you is definitely connected"
"I ... I don't understand," Madison stammered. "I don't have that thing on my hand."
With a small jerk of his chin, Samuel sent an order to Mike Notchey. Mike pulled out a large brown envelope like the one he'd brought over the day before and opened it.
Madison looked in horror at the envelope. "No! I won't look at those again." She started to get up, but Dodie came up behind her and put her hands on Madison's shoulders. With a light touch but surprising strength, she kept Madison in her chair.
"Madison," Dodie said in a gentle voice, "these aren't the same photos. Just as disturbing, but we need you to see them."
Madison shut her eyes tight. Next to her, she felt Mike moving.
"Madison," Mike asked. "Do you know this woman?" When Madison didn't answer, he added, "It is very important."
From across the table, Madison heard Samuel say, "Please, Madison, we need your help." His voice wasn't a plea as much as a command. "These women need your help."
Madison opened her eyes, but she didn't look down. Instead, she looked across the table at Samuel. He was sitting back in his chair looking straight at her, watching her from behind his glasses. His dark face was still as stone. His full lips were relaxed with neither smile nor scorn.
She swallowed and looked from Samuel to each of the others around the table. They were all watching her: Stacie with impatience, Doug with concern, Colin with boredom. Kate put a hand on Madison's hand and leaned forward. "You can do this, Madison," she whispered. "You're stronger than you realize."
Madison glanced at Mike. His anger and brusqueness of the day before was gone. On his weary face was sorrow.
Steeling her shoulders, Madison looked down at the photos. Like the women in the other photos, this woman was dead. She was pale as fog, but instead of being cut ear to ear, her throat had received short cuts in several spots. Her torso also showed a few short, deep gashes. And both wrists had been neatly slit.
"No! This can't be!" she shouted. Madison looked into Mike's eyes. "This is some trick, isn't it?"
"Do you know this woman?" Mike asked the question in a deadpan voice, even though he already knew the answer.
ELEVEN
odie escorted M
adison to the den and told her to wait. There was already a man there. He was sitting on the sofa, his nose stuck in a book. He looked up when they came into the room. Dodie introduced him as Jerry Lerma, Kate Thornton's husband.
Madison gave him a curt nod and plopped herself down into the leather side chair. She didn't want to talk to anyone; she was too shaken. She did know the dead woman in the photos Mike had just shown her. At first, she'd been sure there had been a mistake, but Mike had confirmed the woman's identity.
The dead woman's name was Evie Banks, the waitress who'd been on the schedule to work both Friday and Saturday nights. The waitress who'd left Auntie Em's just weeks before, leaving a spot for Madison to switch from a day shift in order to take a class.
Even more startling to Madison, Evie had had a bloodline. The sweet but often ditzy woman with the long brown hair and soulful brown eyes had been marked to become a vampire; now she was dead. According to Mike Notchey, Evie had died last night, possibly around the time Madison had been in the vampire restaurant. But Evie's death had been different from the others. She hadn't been torn apart in a fit of animal rage but had died of blood loss. While she was still alive, her main arteries had been cut, and she'd been allowed to bleed out. Even more startling, there had been no sign of blood at the dump site of the body, which had been in Angeles National Forest.
Madison had stared at the photos of Evie in disbelief. Her eyes were closed, her body naked. Madison had worked with her a few times when shifts had overlapped. Evie was only twentyfour, just one year older than Madison. Evie Banks had not been the sharpest tool in the shed, nor one of the prettiest, but she had been one of the nicest.
Mike, in front of the council, had questioned Madison about Evie's life, such as boyfriends, family, or any customers who might have bothered her. When the police identified her, they'd learned she'd worked at Auntie Em's. That led Mike right back to Madison. Madison didn't have much to tell them. She knew Evie and had worked with her, but because their shifts were different, she hadn't learned much about Evie's personal life. Madison only knew that during the week she worked as a secretary for one of the Culver City studios-not one of the big ones like Sony, but one of the minor studios that seemed to crop up like weeds in the shadow of the giants. The weekend gig at Auntie Em's had only been to earn some extra money. She had been there just under a year.
"So you two weren't friends," Stacie had asked, questioning Madison in her blunt attorney style.
"We weren't enemies," Madison had shot back. "We were friendly coworkers, but we didn't hang out or anything like that. With Evie working two jobs and me on days and going to school, our paths didn't cross very often."
"When did they cross?" Stacie pressed.
Madison shrugged, trying to give helpful answers while working through the trauma of seeing Evie dead. "If someone called in sick on Friday or Saturday nights, sometimes Kyle-he's the owner of Auntie Em's-would ask me to work a double shift. Then I might work with Evie." Madison thought of something else. "I'm also the one who trained Evie when she first started."
"Are you sure she didn't have a boyfriend?" asked Kate. "Or maybe a former one who didn't treat her right?"
Madison looked at Kate when she answered. "You're looking for a reason not to connect Evie's death to the others, aren't you?"
"We're looking at all possibilities, Madison," Samuel answered. "Before moving forward, we need to make sure this wasn't something else entirely, like a lover's quarrel."
"Angry lovers don't usually drain off their girlfriend's blood, do they?" Madison asked the question of Notchey, her voice tinged with anger.
Instead of answering her question, Mike said, "Answer the question, Madison. Do you recall Evie having a boyfriend?"
Madison turned back to Kate. "She never said anything specific to me, but I got the feeling she didn't date much. She was kind of quiet and shy-a good waitress, though. She did say she was saving her money to travel. I got the feeling from Kyle that she'd quit to do just that."
She turned in her seat to address Mike Notchey again. "Aren't these the same questions the police will be asking?"
"Yes, pretty much," the detective told her. "At least in their official capacity. And I'm sure Mr. Patterson will fill them in on everything concerning Evie that he can." Mike rubbed a hand up and down his face in exhaustion. "Thing is, now we believe you were taken by accident-that it was probably Evie the killer was after, and Bobby Piper screwed up and grabbed the wrong woman, especially since you changed shifts so recently. While you and Evie look different, you both have long dark hair, the same build, and are about the same age. If Bobby was just given a description, he might not have known he had the wrong person. When Bobby failed to show up with Evie, someone else might have tracked her down."
Madison had another thought. "The guy that the police are holding-the one who's confessed to killing the earlier womenwhat about him? If Evie's death is connected to those other women and to my kidnapping, won't the police realize they have the wrong guy? That the killer is still on the loose?" She looked at Mike.
"Right now," Mike answered, "they think it's a different matter or a very bad copycat, because the neck cuts are different."
"Madison," Samuel said from the far end of the table. "The police will, of course, be looking into the death of this unfortunate girl, and I'm sure they will consider that the man in custody isn't the real killer or wasn't acting alone, but we have our own reasons to look into it. Detective Notchey is helping us avoid a potentially dangerous public situation."
"He told me," Madison said, looking at Samuel and fighting the pull he had on her. "You think the people doing this are suffering from vampire envy."
A few of the vampires seated around the table chuckled. Colin eyed Madison with barely disguised scorn.
Samuel flashed Madison a quick white smile. "That's a colorful way of putting it, but yes." The smile vanished as he contin ued. "We think the person or people responsible for these unfortunate deaths know about the bloodlines and are killing women who have them. At least so far, no men that we know of have been murdered. We're not sure why this is happening, but one theory is that whoever is doing this is trying to become a vampire by using the blood or flesh of the bloodline carriers."
"One theory?" Madison looked straight at Samuel when she spoke, as if he were the only other person in the room. "What are some of the others?"
"There's really only one other, Madison," Samuel replied. "And that's that the murderers are trying to destroy all potential vampires, or at least the women."
"That maybe," Doug interjected, "they are trying to make sure no new vampires are created."
Madison thought about that. "Then why just women?"
"Because they make easier targets, why else?" said Colin.
"Not always," Stacie shot back.
Colin was about to fire off a retort when Samuel gently rapped his knuckles on the table, bringing the meeting back to order.
"Maybe," Madison said, frowning in concentration, "they think the bloodline is passed along through the female. Kill the future mothers and you eliminate future vampires."
Samuel smiled at her. "Good thinking, Madison, but bloodlines aren't genetic. We're not sure why certain people have them and others do not, but it seems random. Most people with bloodlines don't even realize they have them or even necessarily believe in the existence of vampires."
Madison's mind kneaded the puzzle like bread dough. "But the killer may not know that. Whoever it is could be shooting in the dark, hoping to stumble on the right combination" Madison paused. She had another question but wasn't sure if asking it would be the smart thing to do.
"What is it, Madison?" asked Samuel. "I sense there's something else on your mind."
Madison took a deep breath and avoided eye contact with the vampires. "There is a third possibility. Are you sure it's not a vampire doing this? I mean, maybe one of your own is trying to slow down the vampire population growth. Or maybe they're just do
ing it for sport."
All at once, the vampires were voicing protests, except Samuel. And for once, Colin seemed in agreement with Stacie.
"It is possible," Samuel said with a slow, steady voice. "But unlikely. Vampires usually know when a kill has been done by another vampire. We have examined the bodies and found no evidence of that."
"Doing your own vampire DNA swabs?" Madison didn't know why all of a sudden she had dropped her fear and had returned to her usual smart-mouthed self. Half of her begged her to stop. The other half was tired of running scared.
Colin leaned toward Madison and flashed his fangs. "Remember who you're talking to, beater"
Mike, sitting between Madison and Colin, wedged his upper body between the girl and the vampire. "Back it up, Reddy."
Samuel jumped to his feet. "Enough!"
Everyone went still.
Samuel looked at his watch, then at Madison. "Would you excuse us a bit, Madison? We need to discuss some details."
TWELVE
o you're the reason for all the fuss." C
Madison came out of her thoughts and looked at the small, dark man on the sofa. She'd forgotten he was there. He smiled at her and picked up a large teapot that rested on the coffee table next to a couple of mugs and a plate of cookies.
"You look quite shaken," Jerry said, pouring her a cup of tea and handing it to her. "Here, this will make you feel better. It's chamomile."
Without a word, Madison took the cup and clutched the warmth between her trembling hands. She took a sip, her mind still turning over Evie's death and the possible reasons for it. Bloodlines, vampires, vampire wannabes-it was all too much. She wanted to turn back the clock to last Saturday morning, when the only thing on her mind was reading an assignment for school before her shift at the diner.
A sip of the tea brought Madison back to the den and its coziness. Samuel had asked her to leave the meeting because they had confidential things to discuss. Fine by her, but what she really wanted to do was go back to bed-maybe for a week or two.
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