TJ interrupted. “I can see where inbreeding would enhance the natural selection of extremely long life and psychic ability, but these are inherited qualities. How can inherited traits be passed on to others? That still seems impossible.”
He shook his head, frowning. “I’ll admit, that had me stumped for years. After experimenting on myself for many months, I found that the particular DNA that contains the genes involved with these traits had somehow been incorporated into a virus, and that organism containing the genetic material is passed to the recipients in the ‘Ceremony of Transformation.’ ”
TJ tried to ignore her fear as she thought about what he’d said. “But, what is the ‘Ceremony of Transformation’”
“That’s where one of the Vampyri transforms a mortal into one of our kind. It involves the mutual sharing of blood . . .”
“Wait a minute, I thought all you had to do was bite someone and they turned into one of you.”
“No, that’s only in fiction. In truth, the transfor-mee has to drink some of the vampire’s blood for the transformation to take place.”
TJ grimaced as waves of nausea at the thought swept through her. “Yuk! How do you convince normal people to drink your blood?”
A sly grin crossed his face. “Oh, it’s not as difficult as you might imagine. Afterward, the transformed person suffers an attack much like that of a severe flu; with high fevers, muscle aches and pains, and sometimes even delirium.” He paused before continuing with a serious look on his face. “And, like the flu, not all of the victims survive the initial infection.”
“What about a plasmid?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Yes, go on. Follow that thought.”
“You know, a plasmid. They’re small cytoplasmic substances that exist within the cell but outside the chromosome. They’re self-reproducing and the geneticists have been using them for years to transfer inherited traits from one bacteria species to another.”
The hunter remained silent as a tomb while he thought about what she said; then he shook his head, a rueful expression on his face. “You know, I’ve been working on this exclusively in my spare time, and still it took me twenty years to come up with the idea of plasmids being involved. For a while I even played with the idea that it might have been a picorna virus mutated to carry DNA instead of RNA.”
“I can see why it took you so long. Plasmids have never been shown to be transmitted by viruses.”
He stroked his chin. “Last year, I wrote up my findings, hoping to stir up some new research into the action of viruses and plasmids and possibly discover a way to reverse the process.” He stood and smiled down at her. “I knew I had made the right choice for a mate. When I saw you in the car with Samantha Scott, I instinctively knew you would make a much better choice for me. Both of us are healers who have an interest in research. Yes, Tabitha. If anyone can, you and I together may be able to solve the mystery of the Vampyri and cure the curse.”
She recoiled in horror. “What do you mean . . . you’re not still planning to transform me into a monster like you?”
He stepped toward her and began to remove his clothes, his face already beginning to change. “Oh yes, Tabitha. We’re going to be together for centuries.”
TJ tried to crawl away, but her back was against the wall. “No . . . No, please don’t . . .” she whimpered. “I promise I’ll help you solve your problems, only please don’t . . .”
The creature stood before her naked, stroking himself as he became aroused, his teeth changing into drooling fangs. “Take off the robe!” he commanded, his words sounding as final as clods of dirt hitting a coffin. When she didn’t respond, he shouted, “Take it off, now!”
Struggling not to obey, TJ’s entire body trembled and shook, sweat beading her brow with the effort to resist. Slowly, fighting every inch of the way, she removed the robe.
At the sight of her heaving breasts, nipples straining erect and shining with sweat, the vampire began to groan and growl deep within his throat. He reached down and entwined his hand in TJ’s hair, lifting her off the ground. She struggled not to look into his eyes, twisting and turning her head and squeezing her eyes tightly shut as her feet dangled in the air, hoping that would lessen his control over her. The pain was like a live animal in her head.
He caressed her breasts with his free hand, then trailed his fingers down her abdomen, his claws leaving tiny furrows of blood on the tender skin. As his fingers entered her pubic hair, he whispered coarsely, “Look at me, Tabitha, look into my eyes and find love.”
Against her will, TJ opened her eyes and looked at him, moaning in ecstasy as he kindled and stoked her lust as one might a fire. She opened her legs and strained her sex against his hand. Reaching out, she took his head in her hands and pulled it toward her breast, even as she inwardly recoiled at the thought of him touching her.
He took her nipple in his mouth and bit it until blood spurted down his throat. She screamed with revulsion and excitement as he took a clawlike fingernail and opened a vein in his throat. As his blood flowed down his neck, he pulled her face to him. Try as she might, she could not deny him, and she began to suck his blood—at first slowly, hesitantly, then with increasing vigor. He entered her with his penis, gently and slowly, so that the great size would do her no damage.
Grunting and growling, crying and sobbing, they fell to the floor still locked in an obscene embrace. He thrust into her repeatedly, while she screamed and answered him thrust for thrust, raking his back with her fingernails and sucking his blood as he sucked hers. Tears of terror and humiliation ran down her face to mingle with the lust-sweat of her body as the first orgasm hit her.
Twenty-nine
Matt slipped inside the darkened office and stood with his back to the door. The credit card had actually worked, it had sprung the lock to the door. All those years watching Mike Hammer reruns hadn’t been wasted after all. As he sleeved sweat from his face, he took a deep breath, trying to stop the hammering in his chest. He put his hand over his chest and spent a few moments counting his pulse. One hundred and ten. If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m gonna have a coronary, he whispered to himself. Using a small penlight to light the way, he walked through the waiting room and into Dr. Goddard’s private office.
Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought the room smelled funny, kind of like an animal’s den—musty, as if the air were as dead as he was coming to believe its occupant was. Walking across the room toward the desk, he kept expecting to have to brush cobwebs away. As he sat in the doctor’s chair and rummaged through the desk drawers, the air-conditioning clicked on, startling him and making his heart start hammering again. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself, then began searching each one of the drawers for any papers that could be used to incriminate Goddard or tie him to the killings. Nothing, nothing at all . . . shit. C’mon Matt, TJ’s running out of time.
He sat there, shivering, sweat congealing on his face, trying to think of something else to do. Finally, he went to the bookshelf and thumbed through all of the volumes to make sure they were really books and not storage devices for valuables. He quickly shut the flashlight off and crouched down behind the desk at a noise from the outer office. It was just the security guard rattling the door, checking to make sure it was locked. When he felt that his legs would support him, he started to leave the office.
On the way through the secretary’s office, he noticed a three-drawer filing cabinet in the corner, hidden in the shadow of a refrigerator.
He tried the drawers, but they were locked. He remembered when he had accidentally locked the cabinet in his office. At that time, the maintenance man had shown Matt how to tip the filing cabinet over on its side and dismantle the push rod that went from the locking mechanism down through the drawers, keeping them shut. Maybe the same thing would work on this one.
Once he undid the rod, the doors opened easily. Now, Dr. Goddard, let’s see what secrets you’ve got hidden in here. Matt spent the next tw
enty minutes meticulously searching every file in the cabinet. The only thing of possible interest was a file that seemed to hold photographs. The light in the room was too dim to make out the pictures. He slipped the file under his jacket.
Just as he closed the drawer, he heard a key in the outer door. He sprinted into the inner office and crawled under the desk, his heart again beating as if it were going to explode, fresh sweat springing out of every pore.
From his vantage point beneath the desk, he could see Goddard come into the office and turn the light on. After looking around suspiciously, as if to make sure no one was watching, he walked over to the filing cabinet and put his key in the lock. When he turned it and there was no click, he frowned and tried again. Still no click, so he reached up and pulled on the top drawer. When it opened, he stood there for a moment staring down at the drawer, a look of terror on his face.
Matt could almost smell the fear-sweat breaking out on Goddard’s face as he methodically went through each drawer, thumbing through the files and checking each one. He frowned again and looked as if he were about to cry when he found the space where the photos had been. Finally, he shut the last drawer and turned to face the office, shoulders slumped in defeat. He took a step, then stopped, raising his face to the ceiling, and howled in anguish, “No . . . no, oh God, no!”
Matt jumped at the sound and almost yelled in fear. He clasped his hand over his mouth under the desk and shrank back out of sight, wondering if Goddard could smell his fear too. There was a snuffle, then a low moan that raised the hair on the back of Matt’s neck. He felt a weight settle on the desk when Goddard sat on the corner.
He cringed and tried to empty his mind, knowing on some instinctual level that he was in mortal danger. If the vampire could really read minds, Matt knew he was as good as dead.
As Goddard’s weight shifted and the desk groaned under the load, Matt put his forehead on the floor and began to pray, something he had not done since childhood. The desk creaked again as Goddard got to his feet. “Jesus, James,” Goddard cried softly, “what have you done?”
What’s this? Matt thought, as the sweat poured off his forehead and into his eyes. He doesn’t know I’m here.
Goddard sighed and snuffled as if he was wiping his nose. “Well, they say curiosity killed the cat. I wonder what they say about foolish doctors who stick their noses where they don’t belong?”
Just as Matt could stand the suspense no longer and was about to crawl out from under the desk and throw himself on Goddard’s mercy, a loud knock sounded at the outer door and a shout rang out. “Hey, Dr. Goddard, is that you in there?”
Matt heard Goddard move toward the outer office just as the voice of the night watchman boomed out, “Oh, hi, Doc, didn’t mean to interrupt ya. I was just makin’ my rounds and saw the light. Wanted ta make sure everthin’ was all right.”
Goddard’s voice, sounding loud in the empty office, answered, “No need to worry, Arnold, I was just leaving.”
Matt waited a full ten minutes after the light went out and he heard the outer door shut before he crawled out from under the desk. Groaning, he straightened up, stretching muscles stiffened by fear. For a moment, he had the irrational wish that he was Catholic so he could cross himself in thanks for being saved. Instead, he grabbed a letter opener off the desk and held it in front of him like a knife while he used Goddard’s phone to call Chief Clark. When Clark answered, Matt asked him to go to Shelly’s house, told him he had something important to show him. He made a quick call to Sam, telling her to get dressed and he would pick her up in a few minutes. He hung up before she could ask why, and he called Shelly and told him to put coffee on and to expect company, but not to open the door to anyone but him or Chief Clark.
He tiptoed across the office and peeked out the door, still holding the letter opener like a sword in front of him. Nothing, no light, no sound.
As he started to leave, he saw another door off to the side of the room. Looking back over his shoulder, he tiptoed across the room and pulled it open. He shined his pen-light in and found it to be a closet, full of white coats and lab jackets along with some crumpled scrubs on the floor. He was about to shut the door, when a splash of color among the light blue scrubs caught his eye.
Squatting, he used the light to push the scrubs aside. The odor of old blood assailed his nostrils and almost drove him back. He reached down and uncovered a wad of female clothing, liberally splattered with blood and excrement. “Jesus,” he whispered. “Now we’ve got the bastard.”
He thought about his situation briefly. If he removed the clothing, he knew from his father’s many lessons, it would be useless as evidence. Better to leave it and figure out some way for the chief to get a search warrant and find it legally.
He pushed the scrubs back over the bloody clothing and shut the door. He went through the outer office and slipped out the front door to Goddard’s office. Flattening himself against the wall, he made his way down the darkened corridor to the elevator and pushed the button. No way was he going down those dark stairs, not with that creature out there somewhere. It seemed to take forever for the elevator to come and take him to the first floor.
At the parking garage, he asked Henry if he had seen Dr. Goddard.
“Yeah, matter a fact, he just screamed outa here in his Mercedes.”
That made Matt’s walk through the shadows of the garage a little easier, but not much. His neck continued to prickle as if someone, or something, were watching him. After he opened the door to the ’Vette, he even looked behind the seats, though only a midget could possibly hide in so small a space.
He managed to exit the garage at a reasonable speed, then stomped on it as he turned on Fannin toward Sam’s house. He eased up a bit when the speedometer passed eighty, but only a bit.
Evidently he had managed to impress Shelly by his cryptic phone call. When he opened the door to his house ten minutes later, the doctor was cradling an old double-barreled shotgun.
“Matt, what the hell is going on?” he asked, looking over his shoulder toward the kitchen to see if Barbara was listening.
Before Matt and Sam stepped into the house, Matt looked behind him across the yard. No sign of a black Mercedes, or anything else out of place on the street.
He shut the door and threw the deadbolt. “Keep the gun handy, Shelly, it’s been a hell of a night and it’s not over yet.”
Barbara stepped out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “Hi, Matt, Sam. Would you all like some coffee?”
Rubbing his hands together, trying to ease the chill that went all the way to his bones, Matt nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. Sam threw a quizzical look at him, then went into the kitchen to help Barbara. He had asked her to hold all her questions until they got to Shelly’s. She had, but hadn’t liked it much.
As Matt sat on the couch, sipping the steaming coffee, Shelly and Barbara stood before him, his arm around her waist, clearly worried by Matt’s appearance but waiting for him to tell it in his own time. Sam sat next to him, glaring at him through narrowed eyes. She knew he’d done something stupid, she just didn’t know what.
Before Matt could begin, the doorbell rang, making all of them jump. “That’s probably Chief Clark,” Matt said. “I asked him to meet us here.”
Shelly peeked out the window before opening the door. Clark walked briskly into the room, hesitated briefly when he saw Matt and Sam on the couch, then sat in the easy chair across from them. “Okay, Matt, what’s so important?”
Barbara cleared her throat and asked Clark if he would like some coffee.
His face softened. “Yeah, sure, Barbara. I was just ordering dinner when Matt called and said to meet him here.” He fixed Matt with a baleful stare. “It was my first, and now probably my last, date with this particular young lady, so this had better be good.”
After Barbara served coffee, Matt told all of them about his experiences in Goddard’s office. When he finished, he sat back and waited to be
chewed out. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Goddamn it, Matt! What in the hell did you think you were doing?” Clark stood and began to pace back and forth.
Matt wisely kept his mouth shut and his expression neutral.
“You’ve jeopardized a major felony murder investigation and just may have placed Dr. O’Reilley in extreme danger,” he continued, his face reddened by anger.
“Bullshit,” Matt shouted back. He jumped up and stood in front of Clark, his hands on his hips. “How could TJ be in any more danger than she’s already in? She’s been kidnapped and may have already been killed by a homicidal maniac.”
Clark and Matt glared at each other for a moment, before Clark capitulated and looked away. “Aw, shit, you’re right, Matt. You may have jeopardized our case against the doctor, but I agree that TJ’s safety is our first concern.” He waved for Matt to take a seat. “But, damn it, we had an agreement. You were supposed to leave the legwork of the investigation to the police!”
Matt was about to reply when the doorbell rang. Clark put his finger to his mouth, then drew his pistol and stood behind the door. He motioned Shelly to answer the door.
Shelly wiped at the sweat that suddenly appeared on his face as he opened the door and stepped back. Shooter and Sherry Landry came in, doing a double take as Clark stepped out from behind the door with his gun drawn.
“Expectin’ trouble, Chief?” drawled Shooter.
Clark holstered his gun and led them into the living room. Once they were seated, he asked Matt to repeat his story of what he’d found and the strange way Goddard had acted when he found the photos missing. When he finished, Sherry put her hand on his arm. “You must have been terrified.”
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