“Champagne and shrimp, now that’s a great combination,” Shooter said, laughing.
As the group left the apartment, Sarah and Adeline, parked down the street in Sarah’s car, watched them walk down the street.
Sarah took a cell phone from her purse and dialed Michael Morpheus’s number. When he answered, she said shortly, “Michael, we’ve found them.”
“Are they all there?” he asked.
“Yes. The half-breed, two men, another woman, and a big man who’s got to be Roger Niemann.” She shuddered. “I can feel the power emanating from him from a block away.”
“Keep your mind shielded,” Michael warned. “We don’t want to warn him that he’s under observation.”
“Right. They’re walking down the street like they’re going somewhere,” Sarah said.
“Follow them and call me back when they get to wherever they’re going. I’ll meet you there.”
After walking four blocks, Albert showed them into a restaurant named Marie’s. It didn’t look like much from the street, but once they were inside, the smell of Cajun cooking made their mouths water.
“Jeez,” Shooter said, “I could gain weight just smelling this food.”
A large woman wearing an apron greeted them at the door. “Come in, come in,” she said in a good-natured voice.
“Marie,” Albert said, “I’ve brought some friends of mine to dine with me tonight. They want some authentic New Orleans food.”
“Then you’ve all come to the right place,” Marie said with a laugh. “I’ll put you at my best table.”
She picked up a stack of menus and led them across the room to a corner table set for six. “Pierre will be your waiter tonight,” she said, placing menus around the table and picking up the extra place setting. “Can I get you some wine?”
“Two bottles of your best champagne,” Albert said, taking a seat between Sam and TJ.
“You got it, Dr. Nachtman,” she said, and hurried off toward the bar.
“You must eat here often,” TJ said.
Albert nodded. “Yes. I like to eat at a place where they know your name and greet you like family when you arrive.” He looked at TJ with a strange stare. “It gets lonely living as I have. Not able to have any friends or loved ones to be with.”
Shooter opened his mouth to say something, but TJ squeezed his thigh under the table. “I know, Albert. But, hopefully, after we’re cured, you won’t have to live like that any longer.”
Marie arrived with two silver buckets with champagne in them. Albert took one out of its bucket and popped the cork. “I’ll drink to that,” he said with feeling.
Shooter leaned over and kissed TJ on the cheek. “So will I,” he said.
While the group was enjoying their meal and champagne, Sarah called Michael from outside the restaurant and gave him their location.
He arrived twenty minutes later and pulled up next to Sarah’s car. “Are they still in there?” he asked through the window.
“Yes,” Sarah said. “They’re in a corner table in the back.”
“Good. You can leave it with me now.”
Adeline glanced at Sarah, then turned to Michael. “Are you going to take her tonight?”
Michael stared at the restaurant. “No. The place is too crowded. I’ll follow them home and wait for my chance at the female doctor when they’re not all together.”
“When you take her, can Sarah and I have her?” Adeline asked, licking her lips in anticipation at having a chance at Sam.
Michael gave her a severe look. “That will be decided later. For now, go on home and leave them to me.”
Adeline started to reply, but Sarah grabbed her arm. “Yes, sir,” she said to Michael, and hurriedly drove off before Adeline could make him angry.
As they drove toward home, Adeline pouted, her arms crossed in front of her chest. After a few miles, she glanced over at Sarah. “Why did you cut me off when I was talking to Michael?” she asked.
Sarah sighed and shook her head. “Honey, I love you, but you can be dumb as dirt sometimes.” She looked sideways at her lover. “If you piss Michael off, he’d just as soon rip your head off and shit down your neck.”
“Are you that afraid of him?” Adeline asked sarcastically.
Sarah nodded emphatically. “You’d better believe it!”
Thirty-four
The next morning, Sam woke early, too excited to sleep. She looked at Matt, still sleeping soundly next to her. She eased out of bed and went into the kitchen, intending to make some coffee.
She opened the cupboard and realized they hadn’t stocked it with food or staples yet. They’d been too anxious the previous day to get to work on Albert’s research papers and get them sent off to Dr. Wingate.
“Damn,” she uttered softly. She wasn’t worth spit in the mornings until she’d had her first cup of coffee.
She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth and combed her hair. Then she slipped out of her nightgown and into a pair of jeans, throwing on a sweatshirt and tennis shoes.
Just as she was getting ready to leave, she heard Matt call out her name. She stuck her head back in the bedroom door. “Yes, sweetie?” she asked.
He mumbled, “What are you doing up? Jesus. It’s still dark out.”
She walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. Leaning down, she kissed him softly on the lips. “I’m in dire need of caffeine, darling, and since the cupboard is bare, I’m gonna run down to the local store and get some.”
He shook his head, trying to come awake. “Hey, while you’re at it, pick up some cinnamon rolls or something, will you?”
“Sure thing,” she answered, kissed him again, and said, “Be back in a jiffy.”
She went out the door and stood on the stoop for a moment, trying to remember which direction the nearest supermarket was in. Finally, she decided to just start walking. It couldn’t be too far.
As she walked down the sidewalk, a large black car behind her started up, made a U-turn in the street, and pulled to a stop fifteen yards in front of her. It was a Lincoln Navigator with windshields tinted so dark she couldn’t see the occupants.
When she pulled abreast of it, the passenger door swung open and a tall, thin man with black hair pulled back in a ponytail jumped out in front of her.
She gasped and took a step back, startled. He looked familiar, as if she should know him. As he started toward her, she suddenly realized he matched the man Chief Boudreaux had described as being at the scene of the murders in Liberty. Sam took a quick step to the side, intending to run past him. He grinned and, without a word, moving faster than she had ever seen anyone move, swung his hand in a sweeping slap and hit her square on the jaw. Blackness opened up and swallowed Sam.
Before she could fall, he swept her up in his arms and deposited her in the passenger seat like a load of groceries. He shut the door. After looking around to make sure no one had observed his actions, he quickly ran the few yards back to their apartment door and took a small notebook out of his jacket pocket. He scribbled a couple of lines on a page, tore it out, and stuck it in the doorjamb.
Walking nonchalantly now, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, he went back to his car and got in. He drove off, the entire episode only taking three minutes from start to finish.
Thirty minutes later, Matt crawled out of bed, holding his head and cursing champagne for the hangover it left. He peeked out the bedroom door and looked in the kitchen. Sam wasn’t back yet, so he decided to take a quick shower.
When he got out, TJ and Shooter were both sitting at the kitchen table, talking softly.
“Hey, pal,” Shooter said. “We thought you two were still asleep, so we were trying not to wake you.”
Matt joined them at the table. “Where’s Sam?” he asked, looking around the apartment.
TJ and Shooter stared at him. “What do you mean?”
Matt glanced at his watch. “She left over thirty minutes ago to go and get some coffee and sweet rol
ls for breakfast.”
“Thirty minutes?” TJ asked, frowning. “She must’ve taken the long way round. I noticed the store’s only a couple of blocks away.”
Matt shook his head, beginning to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I don’t like this. I’m going after her.”
He went to the door and opened it as Shooter called, “Wait a minute. I’ll go with you.”
As the door swung open, a note drifted to the floor. Matt bent and picked it up, his face going pale as he read, “We have your friend. Do nothing until you hear from me.” It was unsigned.
“Oh, shit!” Matt cried, running out onto the porch steps and looking both ways up and down the street before coming back into the apartment.
“What is it, Matt?” TJ asked.
He slowly sat at the table and handed Shooter the note. “They’ve got Sam,” he said in a low voice, tears forming in his eyes.
“Who?” TJ asked, looking at Shooter as he read the note.
Matt shook his head. “They didn’t say, but I’m betting it’s the Vampyres who are against us developing a cure.”
Shooter looked up, his face grim. “How in the world did they find us?” he asked.
Matt shrugged. “Somehow they must have followed us when we came here.”
TJ put her hands to her mouth. “Oh, no. I’ll bet it was me they followed after I left Carmilla’s place. They must have known I’d go see her eventually, and I led them right to us.”
Matt patted her arm. “It’s all right, TJ. You couldn’t have known.”
Shooter got to his feet and went into their bedroom. He emerged moments later, checking the loads in his pistol.
“What are you going to do?” Matt asked.
“I’m gonna go over to that Carmilla’s place and make her tell me who has Sam, and then I’m gonna find them and blow their goddamn heads off.”
TJ jumped up and ran to him. She put both her hands on his arms. “Shooter, you can’t do that.”
“Why not?” he asked heatedly.
“TJ’s right, buddy,” Matt said sadly. “You forget who you’re dealing with. Any one of these creatures is more than a match for that peashooter of yours. Remember how you put a full clip into Roger and he still was able to survive?”
“But we can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Shooter said. “There’s no telling what those bastards will do to Sam.”
When he saw Matt’s face fall at his words, he went to put his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Matt, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you’re right, Shooter,” TJ said, moving next to him. “We don’t have a minute to waste.”
“What do you have in mind?” Matt said. “It won’t do any good to go to the police.”
She shook her head. “It’s not the police I had in mind. Albert is our only chance.”
“What can he do?” Shooter asked, jealousy in his voice.
TJ looked at him, her face serious. “Maybe he can force Carmilla to tell us who the renegade Vampyres are and how we can find them.”
“She’s right,” Matt said. “He is our only hope.”
TJ picked up the telephone and dialed Albert’s number.
* * *
Michael drove well within the speed limit as he headed for the freeway and his lair on the bayou near Liberty. He didn’t want to have to explain an unconscious woman on the front seat of his car to an inquisitive traffic cop.
When he was almost at his cabin, Sam began to stir on the seat next to him, moaning and holding her jaw. He reached across and ran his hand over her forehead, mentally instructing her to go back to sleep. She immediately calmed and leaned her head against the window, drifting off again.
Michael parked his car behind the house so it couldn’t be seen from the drive. He opened the door and took Sam in his arms and carried her into the house.
He gently laid her on the bed in room 1. It, like all the other captive rooms, was equipped with a lock on the door that couldn’t be opened from the inside.
Now he would begin the process of breaking this Normal down and extracting everything she knew about the process used to cure Vampyrism. First, while she was still unconscious, he stripped off her sweatshirt, jeans, and her underwear, until she was lying completely naked on the bed.
Michael stepped back and looked at her. She was uncommonly beautiful, he thought. Her hair was a deep auburn, almost a red color, and her skin as pale and creamy as one of the Vampyre women he dated. Her breasts were firm, covered with a light dusting of freckles. Her nipples were a light pink and were erect due to the chilliness of the room. He felt a stirring in his groin, unusual for him since he had never mated with Normals, preferring Vampyre women when he needed sexual release.
He forced himself to turn and leave the room. There would be plenty of time for that later, if he so chose. Now it was time to begin his campaign to break her mind. He would keep her naked, to add to her feelings of helplessness and defenselessness, while treating her alternately with compassion and cruelty. He’d read several books on brainwashing techniques used by the Vietcong against captured American airmen, and he thought these methods, along with judicious use of his mental powers, would be sufficient to learn everything she knew.
Moving into the kitchen, he began to cook scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast for their breakfast. While the skillet was warming, he prepared a pot of his favorite chicory coffee. First, the kindness, he thought, and then the steel fist later, when she least expected it.
* * *
Albert arrived at the apartment less than thirty minutes after they called him. “Let me see the note,” he said.
He read it, shaking his head. “The bastards! It’s Houston all over again.”
“What do you mean?” Matt asked.
“The Vampyre Council in Houston tried to get me to stop my research,” he explained. “I had to kill several of them in order to get them off my back.” He looked at TJ. “The leader was Carmilla’s aunt.”
“Oh, shit!” Matt said. “Then she’ll never agree to help us.”
Albert’s face turned grim. “Oh, she’ll help us all right. I’ll see to that.”
He got to his feet. “TJ, you’ll have to take me to her, right now. We don’t have a minute to waste.”
“We’ll come, too,” Shooter said.
Albert turned to him. “No, that wouldn’t be wise. Carmilla will only speak to a Vampyre about this. If you two are there, it will complicate matters.”
“But we can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Matt pleaded.
“That’s exactly what you have to do,” Albert explained. “Whoever left this note may call with instructions. They must not know what we’re doing.” He turned the note over and wrote a number on the back of it. “This is my cell phone number. Call me immediately if you hear from them.”
“But what if they hurt Sam?” Matt asked.
Albert shook his head. “I don’t think they’ll do that, at least not yet. They want our cooperation in stopping our research. If they harm Sam, they’ve lost their bargaining chip. That should give us some time to locate them, but we’ve got to get going.”
TJ grabbed Shooter’s face in her hands and kissed him on the lips. “I’ve got to go, Shooter, for Sam’s sake.”
He stared into her eyes, and then he glanced up at Albert. “Don’t let anything happen to TJ, Albert,” he commanded.
“Don’t worry, Shooter. Carmilla is not where the danger lies, it’s with the people whose names we’re going to get from her.”
As they left the apartment, TJ looked over her shoulder. “We’ll call as soon as we know anything.”
Thirty-five
When TJ and Albert arrived at Carmilla’s shop, it wasn’t open for business yet. Albert stepped back into the street and looked upward.
“What are you doing?” TJ asked.
“A lot of these old shops in the French Quarter have living quarters over them.” He pointed up at the second-story, where there were t
wo windows and a small balcony with ornate wrought-iron railings surrounding it. “See. I’ll bet she lives above her shop.”
He went back to the front door and began pounding on it with his fist, the force of his blows denting the ancient wooden frame. After a few minutes, a light came on in the shop and Carmilla peered out from behind the shade. She looked from Albert to TJ, and finally unlatched the door.
When she opened the door, she was still in her robe. “Hello, TJ,” she said suspiciously, turning her eyes to Albert. “It is awfully early for a visit.”
“We’ve got to speak with you, Carmilla,” TJ said urgently. “Someone has kidnapped my friend Sam.”
Carmilla’s eyes widened slightly before she opened the door wide and stepped to the side. “Come in, I’ll fix us some tea.”
As they followed her into the back room of the shop, where she put some water on to boil, she turned and stared at Albert. “Would you introduce me to your friend?”
“This is Albert Nachtman, Carmilla,” TJ said.
“Perhaps you know me by my previous name, Roger Niemann,” Albert said, inclining his head in greeting.
Carmilla’s eyes narrowed with hate and her hand made a fist. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “My aunt Jacqueline mentioned it to me, just before she was murdered.”
“An unfortunate occurrence,” Albert said gravely,
“but one that couldn’t be helped. It was either she or I, and I preferred it be she.”
“You bastard!” Carmilla said, and moved toward him, her hands outstretched, fingers clawed.
Albert held up his hands. “Hold on for a moment, Carmilla. We can settle our differences later, but for now, there is something more important to discuss.”
Carmilla took a deep breath and seemed to force herself to relax. “And what could be more important than the vicious murder of my aunt?”
“The possible extinction of all that you have worked for over the years,” Albert said. “Someone in your group has embarked on a course of events that will surely lead to the discovery of your group of Vampyres here in New Orleans. If these people are not stopped, you will all have to move, or you will be systematically hunted down and exterminated.”
Dark Blood Page 21
