Drawing Blood

by Mary Lou George

  “So, according to Lisel Dupree, there are life-altering secrets in my life that have yet to reveal themselves. It’s my choice to let them defeat me or to rise above them. Oh, and I have a vast yet unfulfilled potential. Pretty vague.”

  “She had to work with what I gave her,” Stryker said. “All she had was the seven card layout. I’m sure Lisel would be much more specific if she met you in person. She’s at least confirmed that the reading was for you and not the murderer.”

  “Yeah.” Holly picked up the page. “I hardly think the killer is concerned with ‘the magical side to the human spirit which never gives up on a better world.’”

  Avery laughed. “Or, ‘the struggle for courage and self-discipline to achieve a moral victory.’”

  “Morality has no place in the life of a bloodstalker.” Stryker’s lips thinned. “They are single-minded, bloodthirsty and relentless.”

  Avery shot him a glance and said, “Yeah, Dracula, we get it.”

  He looked a little regretful. “Sorry. I just can’t emphasize enough the danger they present.”

  They stared at each other silently. Finally, something in Stryker’s eyes made Avery nod. Holly changed the subject by pushing a sheet of paper between them.

  “I drew this last night.”

  Avery looked down at the paper.

  “Now this is more like the automatic drawings you usually do.” Lamely, she said, “Pretty china pattern on the tea cups.”

  “I’m sure that’s the friend Alison mentioned to me. Carrie Blue. Arnie must have worked all night. He confirms Stryker’s dossier on my mother. Apparently the people who put this information together knew what they were doing. Carrie Blue was my mother’s roommate in college.”

  “Roommates can get pretty close,” Avery said with hope in her eyes.

  Stryker took out his Blackberry and pushed some buttons. “I requested the information last night. Here it is. Carrie Blue’s address.”

  Holly leaned over to see. “Do you have a phone number for her?”

  “Yes.” Stryker started dialing.

  Holly and Avery exchanged a look. Holly had trouble controlling the beat of her heart.

  It took him only moments to make the arrangements. Stryker and Holly had an appointment with Carrie Blue. She lived just outside of Toronto in the town of Markham. It would take them a good two hours to get there, so they left almost immediately.

  * * * *

  “That looks more like a witch’s house than anything I’ve ever seen,” Holly whispered looking up at Carrie Blue’s old Victorian.

  Stryker laughed. “I wonder if she gets many trick or treaters.”

  Somehow it comforted her to hear Stryker’s voice make a casual observation. So much of their conversation lately had been filled with significance.

  Holly laughed. “Maybe houses like this get even more ghosts and goblins at Halloween. It’s so fitting for the occasion.”

  “Right you are.” He put an arm around her and they walked up the stairs to the front door.

  She answered almost before the doorbell stopped chiming. Tall and slim, Carrie Blue stood staring at Holly and Stryker. She suited the house. Dressed in a long flowing skirt and peasant top, she lifted a hand to put a chunk of dark, fiery red hair behind her ear.

  “You look like your mother,” was all she said. She moved aside and opened the door for them to enter.

  Inside, the house smelled like lavender. Holly breathed the fragrant air and forced her pulse to calm. Carrie Blue led them to the front room and indicated an enormous green couch. She sat in a comfy armchair close by. She wasn’t seated two seconds before she curled her legs under her. She waited.

  Stryker made the introductions and each woman inclined their head in acknowledgement.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not usually this lost for words.” Carrie Blue laughed. “I’m just so surprised to hear from you.” Her long mass of hair escaped from behind her ear and she ignored it, allowing it to shield her face just a little.

  “You were my mother’s friend.” It wasn’t a question but rather, a statement Carrie didn’t correct. “Could you please tell me about her?” Holly couldn’t quite keep the pleading out of her voice.

  Carrie responded immediately, leaning forward and taking Holly’s hands in hers.

  “He hasn’t told you about Helene?”

  The way she’d said it, Holly knew she referred to her father.

  “Very little, just that he loved her above all else and that I’m very much like her. He’s always implied that she was a little fragile.”

  “Ha!” The older woman’s loud bark of laughter made Holly jump. “Helene wasn’t fragile in the least. Tender perhaps, but fragile? The girl I knew was strong and determined.”

  Confused, Holly didn’t know what to say. Stryker put an arm around her. She could feel his body reach out to her. It felt good.

  Carrie stood up. “Can I get you some tea? I make my own. It’s pretty good.”

  Stryker said, “Yes, thank you.”

  She was right. The tea was delicious. Holly just had to turn her head and look out the bay window to see her most recent drawing take shape before her eyes. She’d captured the room perfectly. Right down to the steam rising from the teapot.

  “Helene and I were roommates all through university. We kind of lost touch when she met your father. That didn’t matter much to our friendship. We had the kind of relationship that picked up right where it left off.”

  Holly nodded. She was fortunate enough to know a lot about friendship.

  “I met your father only a few times. He was always working. He gave Helene everything a woman could want, including two beautiful children. I never really got to know Matthew and Alison. I didn’t get the chance. Our individual lives took over and we headed in different directions.” Carrie took a sip of her tea.

  Holly sat on the edge of her seat.

  “I had every reason to think that she was happy in her marriage to Alan Seaton. She never complained and she doted on the kids. I think he left her alone a lot though. I guess business took him away. As I understand it, when he was home he was extremely protective of her.”

  “Did you see her when she was pregnant with me?”

  Carrie smiled gently. “She stayed with me during seven of the months that she was pregnant with you.”

  Shocked, Holly didn’t know what to say.

  “You didn’t know that, eh?” Carrie raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “Not surprising. Your father wouldn’t have told you and I don’t know where else you would have got the information.”

  “My mother left my father when she was pregnant with me? Why?”

  “I’m not exactly certain. For some reason, Helene felt she couldn’t confide in me. She kept so much from me during that time. I didn’t know what to do except give her the time and space she needed. I figured she’d talk to me when she was ready, but she never did.”

  “What about Matthew and Alison? Did she leave them too?” There was a note of disapproval in Holly’s voice. Stryker stroked her back, soothing her.

  “She didn’t want to. Your father wouldn’t let her take them with her. It broke her heart and in the end I think she went back to him because of the children.”

  “I can’t believe it. Father has never even hinted at this.”

  “Of course not.” Carrie said. Her voice took on a harder edge. “He was very conscious of his social standing. Having a pregnant wife walk out wasn’t something that went unnoticed.”

  “He is a very prominent businessman,” Holly said.

  “Yes. He was then too. I believe he loved your mother very much.” There was a ‘but’ coming and they waited for Carrie to go on.

  “Alan was too possessive. I think Helene felt smothered by him. He overwhelmed her.”

  Holly nodded, understanding immediately. “Me too.”

  “He’s a very powerful man and I don’t mean just socially. I…I always felt an intensity in him that I couldn’t r
econcile. I never told Helene. I’m sorry about that now.”

  “What makes you say that?” Stryker asked.

  Carrie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe if I’d discussed my concerns with Helene she might have opened up to me. She’d always said he was a hard man to resist. Once he focused his attention on Helene, she didn’t have a chance. I think she’d lost too much of her own independence after she married him. I’m not sure if you know this, but your mother was a very talented artist, if she’d pursued it, she’d have been very successful.”

  “I have some of her sculptures. They’re good,” Holly said. “My father doesn’t understand art except as an investment that appreciates in value. He thinks people in the arts are flighty and weak.”

  Carrie smiled sadly. “I got that impression. For him, her work was a hobby not to be taken too seriously.”

  Holly laughed. “Wow, for someone who’d only met my father a few times, you sure have him nailed.”

  “I read between the lines.” Carrie bent and lifted the teapot, looking up at Stryker and Holly she silently asked if they’d like more. At their nods she poured more tea and sat back on the chair with her full cup.

  “How did Helene act when she was with you all those months?” Stryker asked.

  “She was terribly sad. If she hadn’t been carrying you, Holly, I think she would have wasted away. Helene plodded through each day with determination, but she wasn’t the girl I knew. She’d cheer up a little after visiting Matthew and Alison, but that didn’t last long. She missed them terribly.” Carrie shook her head. “I once heard her talking to your father begging him to let her see them.”

  “My father kept her from them?”

  “I’m sorry to say he did. I think he thought that would bring her back. In the end I guess it did, because one day she went to see the kids and didn’t return. I called the house and Alan said she’d decided to come home. You were born the next day. I read the announcement of your birth in the newspaper.”

  “And you didn’t try to talk to Helene herself?” Stryker’s voice was sharp.

  Carrie blushed. “I tried, but couldn’t get past the servants or the hospital staff. I’m afraid I just don’t have the wherewithal to go up against a man as powerful as Alan Seaton and I was going through a difficult time myself in those days. I got a formal card from Alan’s secretary with a picture of you, Holly.” She inclined her head to a box on the shelf. “I think I still have the picture.”

  “If it’s the one from the hospital, then I’ve seen it.” Holly said. “It was the last picture taken of my mother. She died that night…complications from a difficult birth.”

  Carrie nodded tearfully. “I saw the death notice. There wasn’t a service or I would have gone.”

  “I know. My father said it was my mother’s wish.”

  “That fits with what I knew of Helene.”

  The room went silent. They could hear the rustling of the trees through the screen door. Holly looked around the room and wondered what her mother had felt while staying in this house so many years ago. It seemed she’d never know. Helene had just walked away from Carrie’s home one day and never came back.

  Stryker squeezed her shoulder. From the touch of his hand, she could tell he had something important to say. When he spoke, his voice was clipped.

  “Did she leave anything behind?

  Carrie Blue looked blank for a moment, then a smile dawned on her face.

  “Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact she did.”

  Chapter 27

  Holly could barely stay in her seat. She wanted to shake the information out of Carrie Blue. Stryker must have sensed her frustration because he said, “Can you get Helene’s things for us now?”

  Their hostess put a hand to her forehead. Rising she said, “Sure. Follow me.” She continued to speak as she led them to the attic.

  “I kept expecting her to come back for this stuff. When she never did, I just moved it all up here. I didn’t have the heart to go through it. I doubt there’s much here except maternity clothes and some books.”

  The light streamed in from a round window and little particles of dust danced in the sunlight like tiny glistening faeries. Carrie walked to the window and propped it open.

  Pointing to a wooden chest, she said, “That’s her stuff there. It’s yours of course.”

  Without consciously moving, Holly found herself standing over the chest. Carrie blinked with surprise. Holly knew she must have reacted in a split second. Had she, in her excitement unconsciously tapped into her abilities? Anything was possible.

  Stryker drew the woman’s attention.

  “Do you mind if we look through it now?”

  “Of course not. I’ll leave you alone. Take your time.” She squeezed Holly’s forearm and walked away.

  Pausing in front of the chest, Holly said, “Now I’m not sure I want to open it,”

  “Take your time.”

  She smiled and walked into his arms. They kissed. The contact was achingly sweet. She rested her head on his chest and just listened to his heart. It beat in time with hers.

  He gave her strength and she accepted the gift without hesitation. Finally, she pulled away.

  Taking a deep breath she said, “Ready.”

  The top of the chest lifted up easily enough, but the hinges vocalized a definite reluctance.

  “Sounds like the sound effects from a horror movie.” She looked up at him, afraid to look down at what lay in the chest.

  He stayed silent, but moved closer to her.

  Clothes. Carrie was right. The chest contained maternity clothes. They had a familiar scent that Holly couldn’t quite place for a moment. Then somehow she knew. They smelled like her mother.

  She gently lifted garment after garment. Helene had classic tastes. Much of her clothing had stood the test of time. She obviously hadn’t favored the current fads, pregnant or not.

  At the bottom of the chest Holly found a pile of books. They exchanged ironic grins when Holly held up a pristine copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Most of the rest were classics like Jane Austen’s Persuasion and Dickens’ Oliver Twist, but there were also more contemporary books like John Irving’s The World According to Garp. She hoped her mother had finished reading it. She caressed the cover of the book, one of her favorites.

  Sitting cross legged on the attic floor, a tear dripped down her face. Stryker had pulled up another chest and was sitting on it, watching her. She looked up at him.

  “Not much here, but we have the same taste in books at least.” She set them down. He reached for her, settling her on his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder and cried. Stryker moved his knees, rocking her gently. Her foot hit the stack of books and they spilled out over the floor.

  Lifting her head from his shoulder she looked down at them. Holly frowned. A leather bound book she hadn’t noticed before, rested an inch from the toe of her shoe.

  They exchanged a look before Holly dove for it.

  “It’s a journal.” Her excitement mingled with fear and she hesitated before turning the first page.

  “Do you want me to take you home to read it?”

  Holly shook her head. “No. I want to read it now. She lived here while I grew inside her. The atmosphere seems fitting.”

  “In that case,” he looked around the attic, spotting a large old rocking chair. “Let’s get comfortable.” He took her hand.

  He held her as she read.

  My darling daughter:

  I begin this journal with a heavy heart. A piece of me and a piece of the man I love are joined in you and that gives me my only happiness. I ask that you not judge me too harshly for I hope the things I tell you come as no surprise.

  “She must have meant to give this to me one day,” Holly muttered. “She had no idea I wouldn’t get it until years later.” She continued to read aloud.

  I trust that by this, your twenty- first year, you and I are close friends with no secrets between us. Your father cried when I told
him about you. He was not a man for tears so I trust you understand what it meant for me to see them wash his face.

  We did not mean for this to happen in this way. Please forgive us. Perhaps one day you will understand how useless it is to resist a love like ours.

  Holly stopped reading. A lump had formed in her throat.

  “Would you like me to continue?” Stryker asked.

  She shook her head. “No, it has to be me.” She took a deep breath and began reading again, her voice low-pitched and husky.

  I love your brother and sister as much as any mother loves her children. I hope that someday you know this kind of fulfillment. I loved my husband, Alan Seaton once as well. But how long can you love your jailor?

  Alan Seaton is a driven man. His business interests take him away from his family frequently, yet still he grants me no freedom. He has people watch over me. His love has turned into obsession. I understand at last. He is that kind of man. He frightens me.

  In the beginning I did my best to try to understand Alan’s dedication to his work. I even admired it. I was busy raising Matthew and Alison, and didn’t pay that part of his life much mind.

  When I finally lifted my head out of the nursery, I realized that Alan’s business is not what I had assumed. He has a finger in an endless number of financial pies, some less than ethical, but that wasn’t what shocked me to the core. It sickens me to write the words but I have to.

  Recently I discovered that my husband is a member of a consortium of powerful men who keep a secret from the rest of the world. In their minds, they protect the human race from an unspeakable evil. But in reality they seek only personal power and gain. They will stop at nothing to further their own ends. They claim they’re protecting humankind from an ancient evil, but they’re really just perpetuating a centuries old injustice for their own benefit.

  My child, trust me when I tell you, vampires exist. Many walk among us. Alan Seaton’s family and their partners have hunted them for centuries. They see wickedness where there is none but what they nurture in their own hearts.