by Trisha Baker
"Delacroix isn't involved with Meghann." It was the mortal that said this and Gabrielle and Mikal both turned speculative eyes toward him at the unsolicited comment
The boy reddened and gulped nervously. "It's just... he, uh ... Jimmy. He, um, seemed ... attached to... to her." The mortal pointed hesitantly at Elizabeth.
Mikal's eyes narrowed into silver slits. "What did this Jimmy Delacroix say to make you think he has some attachment to my sister?"
"Master, please!" The boy's lips trembled and he looked at Mikal with great apprehension.
Mikal put a comradely arm around the mortal's shoulders, pulling him close and speaking benevolently. "Don't worry ... I won't harm you if this Delacroix said something abusive toward me. Just speak and don't make me waste time looking into your mind or I'll have to put you on the wall with my sister."
The boy whimpered and then said hurriedly, "He ... he called you a 'chickenshit motherfucker' and then said that. . . that your sister . . . called you, a, .. . lousy lay."
Even Gabrielle backed away at the livid, pulsating rage that overtook Mikal. With a bellow that shattered the mirrored panels and glass walls, Mikal launched himself on his unconscious sister, wrapping his hands around her throat as if to force the insulting words out of her.
"What the hell would you know about sex, you whey-faced, passive bitch?!" he screamed while Elizabeth's vacant eyes started to bulge from their sockets. "All you ever did was lie there with your legs spread while I did all the work!"
"Mikal..." Gabrielle said nervously and he turned on her furiously.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Now the marble ceiling was showing cracks and the floor beneath them trembled. Still, Mikal carried on, not sure why he was so angry—whether it was Elizabeth's derisive comments about his prowess or that she'd cheated him again, taking a lover before he killed her. Of course Jimmy Delacroix was Elizabeth's lover—with who else but her lover would she have a frank, sexual discussion? The little whore . . . Elizabeth was supposed to die as a receptacle for her brother's lust but she'd offered herself to someone else—another vampire at that
Mikal would never be sure how much time went by as he beat Elizabeth, fists smashing through her teeth, destroying her fine nose, slamming through her jaw. By God, she'd wake up before he was through with her . . . Mikal would make Elizabeth wake up, make her see all he'd done to make her the ugly child, the hideous thing no one wanted to look at or acknowledge as their own ...
"No!" Mikal yelled when he felt her heartbeat weaken. Spitefully, he kicked Elizabeth, shattering her rib cage. "You won't die on me . . . not yet." He couldn't lose control like this ... it would make him the reckless fool Father always accused him of being.
Mikal glared at his toppled desk, and soon the top drawer shot open, displaying a cattle prod that shot into his waiting hand.
"I bet you don't just lie there for Jimmy Delacroix," Mikal snarled at Elizabeth. The other mortal huddled by Gabrielle, no longer needing makeup to look bloodless and horrified. Gabrielle, on the other hand, did not appear scared, but uneasy and exasperated.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"I want Elizabeth to jump for me like she did for Delacroix." Mikal slid the cattle prod into his sister's vagina and turned it on to full strength, watching her body convulse so strongly her manacles came off the wall and she slid to the floor.
"Enough," Gabrielle said when Mikal stooped down to recharge the prod dangling at an obscene angle from his sister's body. "Where are your wits? Your father is here!"
All the senseless rage drained from him as Mikal felt the presence he should have been alerted to long before Gabrielle told him of it. Father was here and making no effort to conceal his presence as he stormed into the house.
"Not alone," Mikal said and demanded of Gabrielle, "Is it Delacroix with him? I know it isn't Meghann. I've been around her; I'd recognize her aura."
Gabrielle frowned, blue eyes darkening to almost black as she concentrated. "I don't understand ... it's an old soul but I sense a newly transformed being. What trick is your father up to?"
"Who cares?" Mikal said mournfully, grieving not for the mortals downstairs that Father and his unknown friend were dispatching so easily but for the destruction of his meticulously decorated quarters. The sleek glass furniture, elegant mirrors, and steel trappings ... all parts of a style Father abhorred . . . all that splendor was to surround Mikal when Father was lured into this room. Now he'd destroyed the room in a temper—the same temper that was the i «a son Father,never gave him nice things and insisted on Spartan quarters for his son.
"Look at this," Mikal said in a voice suspiciously close to a whine and extended his arms to encompass the cork insulation behind his ruined glass walls, the debris surrounding them. "Now he'll laugh at me."
For a moment Gabrielle looked startled but then her expression cleared and she smiled reassuringly. Her hand reached out to stroke his shoulder but then she remembered Mikal hated being touched unless he was copulating and even then only on his cock.
"Your father will have no chance to laugh if you attack quickly and forcefully. First, we must figure out the identity of his companion . . . whether he is a threat. Your father's reputation precedes him. There are many who would jump at this chance to gain his favor."
That wasn't the impression Mikal had. As far as he knew, Father put his trust only in Adelaide, Meghann, Charles Tarleton and the mortal Lee . . . that must be it! He'd transformed Lee Winslow. Mikal almost laughed, thinking he had indeed depleted his father's forces if he must rely on a brand-new immortal to help him fight Mikal and Gabrielle, a vampire with centuries of power behind her.
"He is no one important," Mikal said and rapidly began making plans. So what if Father murdered the mortals . . . Mikal could always get more to replace them. Killing off the humans didn't get Father any closer to Elizabeth . . . for that prize, he must go through his son and ex-mistress.
'Take my sister into the anteroom," Mikal said to the mortal and gestured to a secret passage through one of the destroyed mirrored panels. "Do nothing further to harm her and don't drink her blood.
Guard her well and you, fortunate human, shall be my first transformed general. Now go!"
The mortal obeyed immediately, struggling with the burden of Elizabeth's dead weight as he lugged her through the dark passage and disappeared from sight.
Mikal turned to Gabrielle and tossed her a broad sword he scooped up off the floor. He'd had his weapons in an attractive display over the wall behind his desk but they'd fallen to the floor when his anger destroyed the room. "You go and engage Father. Don't kill him ... simply wound him or lead him into this room with your fighting."
Gabrielle nodded and vanished into thin air, never suspecting she was employing a power Mikal did not have.
Mikal shrugged at the condition of his room and took his own sword from the untidy pile on the floor, waiting for his father to appear so he could finally destroy him.
Thirteen
When they were a few miles away from Manhasset, Simon took his eyes off the quiet highway and glanced at Alcuin. While he was certain the priest would kill Mikal to save the innocent Elizabeth, there was another issue that had to be resolved before they reached Mikal's lair.
"I'm certain Mikal doesn't have much immortal support against me," Simon said and Alcuin listened with a grave courtesy quite different from the unyielding condemnation he'd displayed in life toward Lord Baldevar. "When Mikal approached the others and did not offer his blood immediately to seal the bargain, I'm sure they were wise enough to see he was enticing them with false promises and had no intention of parting with his special gifts. Knowing Mikal lor a liar, they would of course refuse to join any battle against me."
Lee Winslow's brow furrowed as the mind possessing his body considered Simon's words. "Mikal can't be the only vampire on the grounds. Why would he confront you alone?"
"He won't be alone," Simon said and there was dear disdain in his tone.
"I said he doesn't have immortal support because most of our kind are too smart for him. Unfortunately, even vampires have fools among them that will flock to my son ... as well as those grudging souls that wish to avenge whatever slights they think I've committed against them."
Simon waited to see if Alcuin would make any snide remarks about his long list of enemies, the adversaries that plagued any powerful creature, but the dead priest said nothing, merely staring at Simon with the old watchful calmness that was one of the few things in the world with the power to disturb him.
"I'm sure between us we can subdue any vampires that side with Mikal," Alcuin finally said quietly.
"It is not the vampires that concern me," Simon said and fixed his penetrating gold stare on Alcuin. "My son is a fool in more ways than one—he thinks to build himself a power base by forming a guard of misfit mortals that follow him with the lunatic zeal of crusaders charging against the infidel. They will fight to the death for Mikal and the transformation he promises. Like Mikal and any other vampires there, we must kill those mortals to save Elizabeth."
Simon waited for Alcuin's response with some tension. Would this vampire pacifist balk at Simon's directive and refuse to kill any mortals in Mikal's employ? If he did, Simon would exorcise the priest from Lee Winslow's body immediately and face Mikal alone for Alcuin would be of no use to him unless he agreed to slaughter anyone, mortal or vampire, that had had a hand in abducting Elizabeth.
Alcuin used Lee's thin lips to form a sad smile. "Nephew, you know very little of me, of the path I urge vampires to follow. It is not necessary for me to explain myself to you tonight. Just understand this: I will help you vanquish anyone, mortal or otherwise, who attempts to foil our efforts tonight."
Simon nodded his approval and they continued along the empty road in silence.
"What in the world has he done to my home?"
Simon exclaimed when they pulled up to an elegant whitewashed brick wall that was utterly ruined by a gaudy red, neon sign welded into the middle of it; the sprawling, bright script flashing the words, IMMORTAL LIGHT—A REFUGE FOR CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT.
In disgust, Simon got out of the car and hopped the ten-foot wall, hearing Alcuin jump behind him. Once they got on the grounds, Simon searched in vain for the estate he used to own.
Half the lush Edwardian garden that used to grace the estate was paved over to make an appalling cement parking lot while the other half was a nightmare garden of creeping ivy, fake trees sporting miserable, drooping leaves and wrought-iron tables with spindly matching chairs.
Idly, Simon wondered about the presence of the five black and purple hearses lounging in the parking lot. Was his son considerate enough to ferry his victims to funeral parlors when he was through with them? More likely, they were part of some gimmick to lure customers into this vampiric watering hole. Simon's respect for mortals, always scant, now plummeted entirely when he considered that there were mortals depraved enough to pay to enter this monument to bad taste.
The external changes were bad enough but Simon was most offended by what had happened to his house ... or rather, the destruction of his house. The red-brick central structure flanked by two stately wings no longer existed, its place preempted by an abominable black-shingled, windowless sprawl of a house that looked a demented child's block creation with ungainly, jutting wings.
Idly, Simon wondered what Meghann, with her penchant for the false science of psychology, would make of the windowless residence. Would she think as he did, that the odd dwelling was a reflection of Mikal's grudging, closed-off soul—not allowing anyone to see the emptiness inside him?
'The fool," Simon said contemptuously and Alcuin turned to him, curiosity reflected in Lee's pale blue eyes.
"You call him a fool because he thought to upset you by leveling the house where Meghann conceived?"
"Mikal does not have emotion enough for such motives," Simon laughed unpleasandy. "My misguided offspring did not bulldoze the house to hurt my feelings. Rather, he thinks to obliterate my ability to travel the astral plane by building a house I've never been in. The fool does not realize it is not the house that matters but the ground it is on. I've been here before and I can certainly use the plane at will."
"But I cannot," Alcuin reminded him. "How do you wish to plan our offensive?"
Simon almost smiled at his enemy leaving the planning in his hands. Politics certainly did make the strangest of bedfellows; a vampiric sorcerer working side by side with the creature he'd slain long ago.
I shall appear inside, Simon said, speaking telepathi- cally with full confidence Mikal would not hear him. Already Simon had intuited his son's presence and knew the boy's attention was elsewhere; he had no idea his father was on the estate. There are naught but mortals guarding the downstairs.
Alcuin nodded. If there are immortals with Mikal, they are not near us now.
No matter Simon's dislike for this centuries old enemy, he had complete respect for Alcuin's ability to ferret out any immortal threat. Simon used the plane, feeling a dank blackness surrounding him before he opened his eyes, staring up at a gray stone gothic archway more suited for a medieval cloister than a modern nightclub in his estimation.
A bullet grazed his neck and Simon whipped around, seeing a young mortal woman clutching some automatic brand of gun.
"Priest!" Simon bellowed and spread his hands, lifting his body up and out of harm's way as he sailed at the girl.
Simon focused his power on the girl's hands and she lost control of her weapon, screeching her terror when the gun flew into Simon's hand. He crushed the weapon to pulp within his strong grip, then glared at the girl and wrapped that same inexorable power around her heart. Dispassionately, he watched her face contort in agony before she crumpled to the floor, clutching her heart
Two other mortals, both boys, rushed into the room and abruptly skidded to a halt, watching the deadly tableau of the vampire killing one of their own by simply staring at her. So transfixed were they by Simon's power that they never even thought to use the automatic weapons trembling in their hands.
When the girl took one last, strangled breath, Simon raised his eyes and glared at the boys, his lips curling into a derisive smirk when they simply dropped their guns and ran for the front door.
They threw open the heavy, silver-studded door only to encounter Alcuin, looking on them with profound sadness even as he caused the aneurysms that killed them instantaneously and without the pain Simon made the girl suffer.
From a dark western wing, five more mortals rushed at them, brandishing wooden stakes and making snarling vows to destroy Mikal's enemies.
Simon allowed Alcuin to deal with them while he investigated a low, drumming vibration that reached his keen ears.
Stalking over to a set of closed double doors made of brass and decorated with elaborate wrought-iron handles carved in the form of gargoyles, Simon threw open the doors and took in an immense, too-posh room that was apparently the dance hall of Mikal's club. Simon took in each overdecorated, macabre detail from the red-and-white tiled floor cunningly designed to form a montage of thorny stems and crosses to the crimson upholstered walls with fussy, fake sconces serving as lights and thick black velvet portieres concealing some sort of stage.
In the center of the room, there was a large, circular bar that looked like it had been constructed from tombstones. Simon vaulted over the bar and found a mortal crouching by the mirrored liquor display.
She was a plain child, the little beauty she had marred by the angry puncture wounds dotting her neck and chest. . . was Mikal finally displaying some interest in women?
"Master," she called in a voice that shook almost as much as the hands clutching a switchblade she thrust menacingly at Simon.
Simon glanced at her thoughts and nearly jumped on the shivering mortal, intent on tearing her limb from limb, when he thought of a better punishment. This venal bitch would look upon death as paradise when he was through with her.
"You enjoy disfigurement?" he inquired with deadly softness before he reached into the girl's mind and made her drag the switchblade across her forehead.
"No!" she cried and made a desperate attempt to stop her hands but she was now a puppet in the hands of a creature far more powerful than she. With malicious humor, Simon wondered if the girl still considered it such a dream to encounter vampires as the switchblade she no longer controlled gouged her cheek.
"You will do to yourself everything you did to my daughter," Simon commanded with implacable menace. His jaw clenched violently when he watched the sharp knife cut the girl's pale lips, stab violently through spots all over her face and finally cut out great, clumsy chunks of her mousy brown hair. While she destroyed her face, the girl sobbed helplessly ... sobbed as his precious daughter sobbed this afternoon when Mikal stepped back and allowed this ugly, loathsome girl to take her twisted anger and sick jealousy out on Elizabeth.
"Now the punishment begins." Simon leaned down and concentrated the entire weight of his power on the girl's mind. 'You will get up and walk out of this house, forgetting everything that has happened to you for the past year. Your last memory is running away from your parent's home in Illinois. After that, there is nothing. Now leave!"
Simon watched the bleeding, injured girl walk out of the room, destined to live the rest of her miserable life as a grotesque freak, suffering the punishment she'd tried to inflict on Elizabeth. Even with their immense talent and dazzling tools of skin grafts and plastic, no modern physician would be able to stitch that broken face back together.
Simon swallowed hard, finding it almost unbearable to dwell on the images he'd received from the mortal. .. lovely, sweet Elizabeth crying in pain and terror, completely unable to understand how a boy she'd come to trust could turn into this monster that tortured her.
Simon's one consolation was that Meghann was not here, would never know the extent of their daughter's suffering, the pain and humiliation Elizabeth endured at her brother's hands. The knowledge of Elizabeth's pain was something Simon would carry to his grave.
