Mikos sealed the wound on Ben's wrist, grabbed Ben's jaw,[C&F119] and moved his mouth away from the blood. Then he licked his own blood off Ben's lips. Their tongues met, and Ben felt a sexual need like he hadn't felt since that first night with Candyce. Then Mikos pulled away and laughed. "You are young, aren't you? Ah, Benjamin, my friend. You have a lifetime. You have a dozen lifetimes. The safer we play things, the better we will be. Do you understand?"
Ben ran a hand over his face. He did understand. Mikos was seducing him. Mikos was still the stronger of the two of them. But if Ben got away from the nest, he would be able to work on his own powers without interference. He would come back a virgin no longer, and he would control the nest. He would also get rid of Van.
He took a deep breath to control himself, but there was no denying the throbbing in his groin. Better to let Mikos think he dominated entirely. Ben unzipped his pants, setting himself free. "Let's finish it," he said, allowing his voice to be as breathless as he felt.
Mikos' grin had a joy Ben had never seen before. He spat on his hand, then grabbed Ben's penis and played with it, while biting into Ben's carotid artery. Ben's orgasm was immediate and powerful, and it continued, like the cow's had that night, long after he was dry.
Finally,[C&F120] Mikos let him go. "I still rule the nest," he said.
Ben was weak and wasted, but the feeling he had had after the first time Mikos had fucked him was not there. Although he could feel Mikos'[C&F121] power, Ben still managed to retain a small portion of himself. "I'll do whatever you want," he lied.
"Good," Mikos said. He was still stroking Ben as they spoke. Ben was so sensitive that the sensation was almost painful. "I want you to leave tonight. It's best if Van doesn't see you again."
Ben nodded. He didn't want to go, to leave Mikos, but he didn't want to remain close to Van either. The idea made sense to him. "I have no income of my own."
Mikos let Ben go. Then Mikos reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a money clip. He tossed it to Ben. The clip was full of cash. Ben flipped through it. The wad of bills was thick, and all of them appeared to be five hundreds. "You did some work for me a few months ago," Mikos said. "I never paid you for it. Use this as your stake. If you run out, you can always help me again."
The killing. Ben stuffed the money in his pocket. Mikos was telling him something. He could make money as a hired assassin. Or he could do something more creative. But Mikos was sending him out of the nest.
Second rule. Protect the nest at all costs. Mikos was seeing Ben as both an asset and a threat. Mikos was covering all angles.
"Thanks," Ben said. The sexual charge was dissipating as Mikos moved away from him. Such control. And it was only a small percentage of the control Ben had now over his cows. His control would grow as time went by.
"Find a place to live first, then a woman, then worry about money," Mikos said. "And stay in touch."
"I will," Ben said.
Mikos flicked on one more light. The room became brighter, the dirt from the nights party—the cigarette butts, the blood on the carpet—was suddenly visible. "And Ben, how did that cow find you?"
"Steve sent her to me. The cops won't follow that trail."
"Fortunately. The lure of the Keg will probably be too much for them. Still, I don't like it that you're so easy to find." Mikos stood. His eyes were dark, his lips full. Ben felt the longing surge through him again. He hadn't realized, until this moment, that Mikos had hooked him, just as Ben had hooked the cows. It would be good to get away.
Understanding the other side of that lust would probably make it easier for him to use it. He would remember this feeling. "I don't like being easy to find either," Ben said. "I warned Steve not to let anyone contact me here again."
"Good. Let's hope the warning sticks." Mikos glanced at his watch. "The sun will be up soon."
Ben nodded, glad for the dismissal. He went back to his room, slipped out of the wet clothes, and pulled on some jeans. He took a canvas bag and filled it with more jeans, underwear, socks, shirts, and one suit. Then he hurried back out to the front room.
Mikos hadn't moved. Ben slipped by him without touching him. To touch him meant that Ben wouldn't leave until the next night.
"Remember," Mikos said, so close that Ben could feel his breath, "when you're out on your own, any mistake you make jeopardizes no one but yourself."
Ben hadn't thought of that. He had made mistakes in the nest and the nest had covered for him. Now he had to cover for himself. His throat was dry. "I'll remember," he said.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the double-paned windows, illuminating the streaks on the ancient tile floor. Eliason pushed open the double doors and walked into the Westrina Center. His shoulders tightened slightly, as they always did when he came here. He associated the place with problems, and injured children, both of which set him on edge. The poorly designed air conditioning, which made the interior a freezer, didn't help.
He walked past the glassed-in reception area and stopped at DeeDee's oak desk. "Anita leave some files for me?" he asked.
DeeDee looked up. Her hair was orange this week and frizzed around a red bandanna. She wore matching red overalls, and the look—which would have been grotesque on any other woman—suited her. She grabbed four file folders off the corner of her desk and handed them to him.
He had never seen her so quiet. Usually she gabbed at him from the moment he entered the door. "What's going on?" he asked.
DeeDee slid back her chair. "You want some coffee? I do. I promised the girls in the back morning buns, and I've been forgetting every day. If you drive me in that great car of yours, I can be back before my break is over."
He frowned. He really wanted to see Sarge, to discuss little Lee Anderson's parents whom the eradicators couldn't find, but he supposed the meeting could wait. He had set no definite time with Sarge, and she had said she would be in the office until eight or nine that night.
"You just want a ride in my car."
DeeDee laughed. If he hadn't seen the lines beneath her eyes, he would have thought the laugh genuine. "Maybe I want to ride something else, doctor," she said, waving at the women in the back as she went out the door. The office was used to the flirting. DeeDee and Eliason acted that way all the time. In truth, though, they didn't interest each other. After one disastrous date years before, they decided that they enjoyed friendship more.
The air got warmer as they went through the double doors. The steam heat of a hot June day coated them the minute they stepped outside. Eliason hadn't even been inside long enough to acclimatize himself to the chill, but it didn't matter. The heat overpowered him anyway.
He walked around the rosebushes and the still-green grass to his car. He opened the passenger side for DeeDee and then let himself in. The leather smelled hot, but the interior still contained a bit of the air-conditioned coolness. He started the car and put a hand over the vent, pleased that the air conditioning was still on chill.
"You really want to go to the Ovens?" he asked as DeeDee pulled her door shut.
"May as well," she said. "I don't want coffee though. It's too damn hot."
He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Shorewood, the nearest bakery. The car purred under his hand. The heat didn't affect it at all. "Okay. I know you're not here for my great personality. What's up?"
"You hear from Cammie at all?" DeeDee asked.
The little twitch of nervousness returned. Eliason had to work at looking relaxed. "I haven't heard from her since she left. Why?"
"Stupid girl." DeeDee bit her lower lip, smearing her lipstick, something he had never seen her do. "Can I talk to you? Completely confidential? No Anita, no Sarge, no nobody?"
Since Cammie had left, he had spent most nights pacing his apartment, glaring at the phone. He had never really followed through on the relationship with her, and after the dinner at the Imperial Palace, he suspected she never wanted t
o see him again. Still, he wanted her to call. He wanted to know she was all right. He even called his travel agent and priced tickets to Oregon, just in case he wanted to find her. He stopped short of booking them, though. If Cammie wanted to talk with him, she would.
"I'll file the information under doctor-patient relations and no one will get it out of me," he said. He shifted slightly in his seat and braced his wrist on the wheel, steering with his arm instead of his hand. They emerged off Old Middleton Road onto University, and the traffic was staggering.
"Cammie called a few days ago, and wanted information on children from the inactive files. Most of the names she gave me had files over twenty years old with no updates. I sent her a bunch of inactive files. But there were four active files, all with current eradication investigations proceeding against them. I kept those."
"DeeDee—"
She held up a hand to stop him from going on. But he could feel a flush building. She had asked him for confidentiality, but she didn't respect the privacy of others.
"The files were old," she said, "and there wasn't much Cammie could get from them except history of the traumas. She had already spoken to the kids' parents and knew where they got adopted out. It seems all of them had disappeared, like Ben."
Eliason turned the Ferrari into the parking lot in front of the Ovens. He left the car running. He didn't like the way this was developing. Cammie had gotten herself into something, something that might hurt her. "What was in the active files?"
"Investigation reports," DeeDee said. "All four adoptees had come back here, and all four are being investigated for vampiric connections. It seems they wanted to be part of an established community. Jeremiah Ellis, the oldest, is scheduled for eradication review in two weeks."
Eliason sighed. A woman came out of the restaurant with a white baked-goods[C&F122] box balanced on one hand. She put the box in the Ford Bronco parked next to the Ferrari and backed out, narrowly missing the Ferrari's right side. "You haven't told Cammie?"
"I was going to today, but she was really upset when she called."
He sat up, his entire body rigid, no longer pretending relaxation. He should have kept closer tabs. Being without her, being without knowledge of her, was driving him crazy. That she had contacted DeeDee more than once bothered him. He had always thought he was closer to her.
Probably not anymore, after all the things he had said that last night. "She called?"
"Yeah, at the Center, so I knew she was upset. She wanted Whitney. When I told her he was on an eradication, she made me promise to get him to call right away." DeeDee's hands were shaking. She had now bitten off most of the lipstick on her lower lip. "But that's not the part that got me upset. She sounded funny, and when I asked her what was wrong, she said that Ben's girlfriend, Candyce was found dead in Seattle. Obvious vampire killing. Obvious. Then her voice broke and she hung up, and she didn't even leave a number where I could have Whitney reach her."
"Then why aren't you still there, waiting for her to call back?" Eliason watched her out of the corner of his eye. The sun reflected off her frizzed hair, leaving part of her face shaded. The exhaustion made her look bruised. He would have been there. He would have haunted the phone until he heard from her again.
"Because I wanted to talk to you, Brett. Here's the weird part. I found a bunch of letters that those parents sent Anita. They pleaded with her for information on the kids, and she never answered. They even got an attorney to write, and no response."
"That's not odd." Confidentiality often excluded the parents. He wanted DeeDee off this trail. He wanted to hear more about Cammie.
"Yes, it is." DeeDee ran a thumb over her long, polished nails. "When those letters started coming, we already had active files on two of the kids. Maybe if Anita had written back that early, something could have been done, the investigation could have been called off, and the Ellis boy wouldn't be up for eradication."
A couple came out of the restaurant, laughing. The woman's arm was around the man's waist, and they kissed before going to separate cars. He had never kissed Cammie. Odd that he would be so tied to her. He looked away. "Westrina Center policy states that a vampire can't be rehabilitated. It might have been kinder of Anita to let the parents think the kids were missing rather than in trouble."
"It's not her decision, though, is it?" DeeDee leaned her head back.
There were no rules. The Center had been in the unique position for the past forty years of defining its own place in the world. Anita's work was unusual. The fact that she sometimes took liberties with it should surprise no one.
But Eliason said nothing. He had made it a policy to remain close-mouthed about his misgivings. That way, he could continue working for the Center, and helping the children. "The Center has had a successful adoption program for twenty years."
"Yeah," DeeDee said, her voice tired. "And now that those kids are becoming adults, they disappear or turn up with the same problems their parents had. That's not successful, Brett."
"You're only basing that on a few letters."
"No," she said. "I'm not. I went through Anita's desk last night."
He turned, shocked.
She shrugged. "Sometimes secretaries can go places no other employees can. Anyway, inside, was an entire drawer of letters like those, from parents all over the West Coast. What if the program didn't work? What if those kids are all vampires?"
A chill ran down Eliason's back. Cammie. She was just old enough to be at risk. In fact, from his informal studies, she was a prime candidate. She had already spent too much time killing.
He bit his lower lip. Maybe he should have done something sooner. He and Anita had gone around and around over eradication when he first opened his practice. He refused to treat anyone on the squad, and in fact, refused for years to enter any part of the Center except the Children's Wing. "You're making too much of this," he said, and shut off the ignition. "Go on inside and get those buns. I'll drive you back to the Center."
DeeDee shot him an angry glance, but got out of the car. She adjusted her bandanna before she pulled open the large restaurant door. He wasn't fooling her. She obviously knew that her news was upsetting him. But he had to think his position through before speaking up. He couldn't risk his work with the kids. Just this morning, he had made a breakthrough with little Mary Jo. She had sobbed in his arms. Sometimes a vampire's child never learned to cry.
Behind Eliason, the traffic whooshed. A child laughed outside the neighboring store. The children were adopted out or worked in eradication. The eradication program worked for some; he had seen it, and worked with the counselors sponsoring it. The adult children were never completely whole, but they were at least able to function and to live interesting lives after they left the Center. Some, like Whitney, preferred to remain, to keep the anger under control, but others went on to be lawyers and doctors and teachers.
Of course, no one knew what happened as the years went on. Most of the known ACVs were no older than 35.
And no one knew what happened to the adopted kids. Cammie's brother had been three when he was adopted out, more than old enough to absorb the life patterns of his old man. The adopted children followed the pattern of other adoptions in the country. The older the child, the less attractive it was to new parents. Infants went first, and children over five were rarely considered.
But studies were showing that children remembered those early years on a deep, non-verbal level. Traumatic experiences remained imprinted. And being raised by a vampire was traumatic, no matter how old the child was.
Eliason gripped the wheel with his right hand, his fingers sliding in the leather grooves. He had been just like all the others, believing that a child who had escaped the situation had escaped the problems and the pain. He knew better. He had seen too many battered wives, too many alcoholic men, to think that childhood problems stopped when the child left home. Sometimes the problems were just beginning.
Cammie. He had let her walk alone and un
armed into her past.
DeeDee pulled the door open and slid in. The buns smelled rich and warm.
"Cammie say why she wanted Whitney?" he asked as she slammed the door.
"No." DeeDee looked at him. Her eyes were wide on her too-pale face. "But it's not hard to figure. He was her partner, and the girlfriend was found exsanguinated."
"Eradication," Eliason said.
DeeDee nodded. "Let's just hope Cammie doesn't do anything stupid."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
i
"I realize it's late," Ben said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The thin plastic hotel phone barely fit between his chin and shoulder. The thin blankets and the patterned spread were barely enough to keep him warm. "I'm afraid I work until nearly ten p.m. each night."
He leaned against the pine headboard and squinted at the window. The Red Lion had black-out curtains, which was one of the reasons he chose the hotel—that, and the fact it was only a short drive from the nest. Light trickled in around the edge of the curtain. He would have to get up and fix it, but sometimes that was even more hazardous than leaving the crack alone.
The realtor on the other end of the phone was cutting him no slack. "I do not work that late, Mr. Norris. Perhaps a showing before you go to work?"
"Not unless you're up before dawn," he said.
"My goodness," she said. "The job is all consuming."
"For three weeks," he said. "Then I get two off. Makes it a bitch, though, when I have to find a place to live while working so hard."
"You weren't evicted, were you, Mr. Norris?" That was the second time she had asked the question. Obviously,[C&F123] his first answer had not convinced her. He repressed a sigh.
"No," he said, letting his exhaustion seep into his voice. "If you must know the truth, my wife and I are getting a divorce. It's rather sudden. I'll tell you the details if you would like."
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