by Trisha Baker
"No!" Meghann screamed immediately. "He can't be… Alcuin, I killed him over forty years ago!"
When they arrived at Meghann's house, Alcuin shut off the engine and took one of her ice-cold hands. "Meghann, you know you were never completely sure that you killed him."
Meghann simply could not believe this—she could not feel secure in the world if she thought Simon was still alive. He would kill her… No, wait. He would torture her horribly and then he'd kill her.
Meghann racked her brain for any rationalization to refute Alcuin's statement. "But," she said wildly, "forty years have gone by. Why would he suddenly resurface?
Why would he go underground for all that time? It's not like him."
"Banrion, I never told you this because there was no point upsetting you, but Simon has disappeared before… The last time was for seventy years. He spends the time developing his strength."
Wonderful, she thought grimly.
She looked up at Alcuin. "What proof do you have that he might be alive?"
"Photographs—I'll show them to you inside."
Meghann nodded. "I want Jimmy to see them too." Jimmy Delacroix was a mortal Meghann had trained to hunt renegade vampires who refused to live by Alcuin's dictate that vampires not murder or torture the mortals they drank from.
"Of course."
When they entered the living room, Jimmy's eyes widened in disgust and fear at the sight of Alcuin, whom he had never seen before.
Damn, Meghann thought. She'd been so rattled by Alcuin's news that she completely forgot how shocked poor Jimmy would be when he saw Alcuin. Her mentor might be one of the wisest vampires alive but was also hideously deformed. A vampire of a different bloodline from Meghann's had transformed him. As a result, he had no hair or eyebrows and had viciously long fangs that curved past his jawbone and were permanent fixtures (unlike Meghann's, which retracted when she wasn't feeding). His skin was translucent, and all his veins stuck out prominently.
Meghann knew Alcuin understood Jimmy's shock and rage when he looked at him. Eight years ago, a vampire of Alcuin's type had murdered Jimmy's wife and three-year-old son.
"Jimmy," she said softly, "it's all right. This is Alcuin. I told you about him."
Jimmy pulled himself back from the horrifying memories, plastering a bitter grin on his face. "Sure," he slurred, swigging from a half-empty decanter of bourbon he plucked from the coffee table. "How are you doing, handsome?"
Of all the nights to drink, did Jimmy have to pick the time Alcuin visited? Meghann decided to give him time to pull himself together.
"Jimmy, please ask our guest if he would like any refreshments."
Jimmy glared at Meghann, who stared back. With a put-upon air, he asked Alcuin sarcastically, "Would you like any refreshments, my lord?"
"Some water, please."
"And what about you, my vampire queen?"
"Some coffee would be nice. And make enough for yourself," Meghann said pointedly.
Jimmy thought about responding to that and then lurched off to the kitchen.
"Didn't you say Mr. Delacroix had given up drinking?"
"He has… for the most part," Meghann answered, "but we had a disagreement last night."
Alcuin did not ask if the disagreement was part of a lover's quarrel. He knew the vampire-hunter had lived with Meghann for six years, but he had never asked her what their relationship was. You'll face a difficult decision, banrion, he thought, love between a mortal and a vampire rarely comes to a good end.
Meghann went to the kitchen to see if Jimmy needed any help. "So I don't have to serve Count Dracula by myself? You're not going to show me off as your pet Renfield?"
Meghann laughed as she got some coffee mugs and a water glass from the cupboard. "Now, Jimmy, you know I don't go around making humans my slaves."
"Yeah, I guess that was more in your old boyfriend's line of country," Jimmy said, referring to Simon Baldevar.
"Funny that you should mention him."
"Why?" Jimmy took a closer look at her.
Meghann bit her lip and wrapped her arms around her body. "Alcuin thinks Simon might still be alive."
"Jesus Christ!" Jimmy exploded, bringing Alcuin hurrying into the kitchen. He turned on him. "How the hell can that son of a bitch be alive? Maggie killed him forty years ago!"
Meghann put the coffee and water on a tray. "Jimmy, let's continue this in the living room. Alcuin said he has some photographs to show us."
Alcuin took the tray while Jimmy went over to Meghann. The jolt of fear he'd received when Meghann told him about Simon had knocked the alcohol out of his system. "Maggie, I thought you said you killed him."
"I thought I did," she told him while they walked back into the living room. "I mean, the last time I saw Simon Baldevar, he was lying on a rooftop with a stake through his heart that I had impaled him with. He couldn't move; I thought daylight would take care of him."
"No doubt he had an ally you weren't aware of come and remove the stake," Alcuin told her.
"Let's not jump the gun," Jimmy said. "We still aren't one hundred percent sure he's alive."
Alcuin reached into his cloak and handed Meghann a flat brown envelope. She sat down on the ottoman and inspected the photos, with Jimmy looking over her shoulder.
The pictures made Meghann feel physically ill. Since becoming a vampire, Meghann had witnessed many terrible things. These photographs, with their shocking and pathetic images, were one of the most devastating things she had ever seen.
The photos appeared to be of some sort of nursery or orphanage. With the exception of five women in nun's habits, an elderly priest, and two women in plain clothes, the victims in the photographs were all children. The youngest corpse looked to be about two years old, and the oldest child was probably twelve. Altogether, the photos showed ten dead children.
Each corpse had been brutally slashed. Some were nearly beheaded from the wounds inflicted. Some were cut on their wrists. It did not escape Meghann's notice that each wound was on a vein or artery.
Meghann's eyes fell on the priest. She first she saw the terror and pain on his face. Then she noticed… Dear God!
Jimmy snatched the picture when it fell out of her hands. "What the hell?"
Alcuin looked as uncomfortable as Meghann. "The priest was found with an ornate Russian Orthodox cross inserted into his anus."
Jimmy was disgusted. "Why the hell would someone do that?"
Meghann answered. "If Simon committed these murders, I can explain the priest. I saw him do the same thing in Cuba. It is my guess that the priest entered the room and saw Simon's blood teeth out. If he grabbed the cross and held it up for protection, screaming that movie foolishness about standing back in the name of Christ, then Simon yanked the cross out of his hands, bent him over, and… Well, Simon's sense of humor did run to such things." She could still see the young Cuban priest moaning and crying. It wasn't the physical pain that made him cry; it was the desolate knowledge that his God could not protect him from the evil fiend that had violated the sanctuary of the small island church.
Meghann felt bile in her throat. She went to the small bar in the living room and poured a tumbler full of absinthe—one of the few substances that could intoxicate a vampire. Grain alcohol worked too, but it was even viler tasting than absinthe. Meghann noticed Jimmy eyeing her glass, which would probably kill him if he drank the whole thing.
She took a large mouthful to steady herself and asked Alcuin, "What are these pictures of?"
"St. Paul's Home for Abused Wives and Children in San Diego. The church takes in women and children with no place to go until the women can find a job or family members willing to help them. The cops think the attack took place between eight and nine P.M. They say it could have been far worse. There are usually fifty families and thirty nuns there. The rest were at a bazaar. These children were sick, and they couldn't attend."
Although the children were simply slashed, the cross was mild compared to
the atrocities visited on the poor women in the pictures. Some of the dead were forced into a kneeling position. These corpses were facing other standing corpses in a crude simulation of oral sex. The victims were kept in position by wooden stakes that impaled them, and were then ground into the floor.
"The coroner said they died after they were impaled… not before."
Meghann could have guessed that by the pain and horror in their open, staring eyes. She also thought, from the fright on the children's faces, that they had been forced to watch the carnage before they were killed.
"How do you know this is the work of vampires?"
Jimmy asked. "It could have been the work of psychopaths. Even the cross could be the inspiration of some crazy kids."
"That's precisely what the cops believe," Alcuin responded. "They think this is the work of some satanic cult However, what they cannot explain is the fact that there was almost no blood at the crime scene. When the bodies were examined by the coroner, he said they had been bled dry."
"Besides," Meghann told Jimmy, "look at the stab wounds. You'll notice very subtle puncture marks imbedded in the slashes." She looked up at Alcuin. "This is definitely the work of vampires, but how can you be sure it's Simon? He's not the only vampire to resent the whole crucifix business."
"Yeah," Jimmy echoed.
"Meghann, take another look at that picture of the nun by St Joseph's statue."
Meghann looked, and dropped the photograph. "My God… the pendant!"
The picture was of a nun wearing only her veil, with her legs wrapped tightly around the statue. That was not what had disturbed Meghann. At the foot of the statue was a gold pendant from the fourteenth century—a gift from Simon. Meghann had left it behind on the night she thought he died.
Alcuin reached into his cloak and withdrew the pendant. "Charles was able to bribe one of the cops and get this for you… I thought you might want it back."
Meghann eyed the object with distaste, and then thought she should have it—perhaps it could be used in a binding spell against Simon. She sat silently for a few moments, twirling the pendant in her hands before she spoke. "Simon is neither careless nor stupid. He left that pendant behind as a calling card."
"It's more than that," Alcuin told her. "It's an invitation."
"To what?" Jimmy asked.
"To me," Meghann answered tonelessly. "He knows that I became Alcuin's apprentice… He wants to confront me and Alcuin for taking me in. The priest was a direct taunt to Alcuin. Simon is telling us that he considers us no threat." Meghann realized something else about those pictures. Her panic-stricken eyes met Alcuin's. "How could I have not seen it before? It was no accident… choosing a home for battered wives and children." Meghann leaped up from the chair, her eyes wild and her face pale. "Alcuin, he knows! He knows I became a psychologist, and I spend my life trying to help people like that! Dear God, he's mocking me twice. He must have been around me or found out enough to know what I do and now he's saying he can spit on that, destroy it… and me completely!"
Meghann collapsed on the couch. She couldn't make herself say the rest out loud. Simon had another reason for killing children. She had killed him (or thought she had) when he threatened the life of a child. Now Simon was telling her that one life meant nothing. She could almost hear his loathsome voice: "Look long and hard at those pictures, my sweet. Could you have stopped the slaughter this time?"
"Meghann," Alcuin said gently, interrupting her thoughts. "You're right… He will try to destroy you completely. He's always despised me, but what he feels for you is a different matter. That monster thinks he was in love with you. You not only spurned what he considers to be love, you escaped him. In the process, you nearly killed him. Very few vampires have been able to do what you, his protégée, managed. Please be aware that what he did to those poor souls is mild compared to what he must have in mind for you."
Meghann shivered, remembering what Simon had done to her the night before she left him. Jimmy went over to the couch and put his arms around her. She looked up, smiling slightly.
Alcuin looked grave. "Meghann, you don't know how much I wish I could protect you from this threat."
"Why the hell can't you?" Jimmy snapped. "I mean, you're older than he is; Maggie says you're powerful. Why can't you just take care of him?"
"Don't be so rude," Meghann scolded. "And the only way I can see Alcuin protecting me from Simon is to shadow me every minute of the night. Do you think I want to live that way—never able to go anywhere or do anything without looking over my shoulder?"
Stung by the rebuke, Jimmy replied, "All I was saying is maybe he could find Simon…"
Meghann finished the poison in her glass; she poured more. "Jimmy, if we're fortunate, Simon will think the same way you do. He'll expect me to be scared—to hide behind Alcuin's protection. After all, he never gave me credit for being anything but his little concubine." Fear lessened as anger and thoughts of vengeance took its place. She turned to Alcuin. "But he'll be surprised, won't he? With your help, I'm strong enough to confront him. And I want to do this—I owe him for ruining my life, staining my soul with the evil he made me do. I want to see him again—so that I can kill him the way I thought I had forty years ago."
Alcuin smiled at the change in her. She was holding her head high and thrusting her jaw forward in determination. The regal way she held herself, no matter what the situation, was the first thing he'd ever noticed about her; it was why he called her banrion. But he could not allow her to be reckless or overconfident. "Meghann, I have lived for seven centuries and the thought of a confrontation with Simon Baldevar worries me. He has tremendous power, and when you add to that his feelings toward you… we must proceed with extreme caution. Now we must start to plan for his attack."
Alcuin glanced at Jimmy, who frowned. "What?"
Alcuin spoke carefully—not wishing to offend the mortal. "Jimmy, we have a small chance of defeating Simon. You, on the other hand, have none. We will offer you our protection, but you will not be involved in this battle."
Jimmy's mouth dropped open. He leaped off the sofa and would have attacked Alcuin if Meghann had not held him back. "Not be involved?" he yelled. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Some fucking vampire killed my wife and kid and you're telling me I won't be involved? Fuck you! What did you think—while Maggie has to wait for this asshole to come get her, I was just going to sit here and knit?" Outraged, he was trying to break the iron hold Meghann had on him.
Alcuin observed the thrashing vampire-hunter and sighed. Seeing the way Jimmy reacted over the thought of Meghann being hurt left no doubt in his mind that these two were lovers. God help you, young man, he thought to himself, for Simon will have no mercy on any man who receives from Meghann what she denied him—love.
Meghann spoke softly. "Jimmy, calm down." She looked at Alcuin. "Obviously, we can't send him away for fear that Simon will find him. Who knows how much he's found out about me? Let Jimmy be involved—we might be fortunate enough to find out where Simon sleeps. If we did, Jimmy's aid would be invaluable." Her eyes pleaded with Alcuin to go along.
Alcuin knew what she was truly asking—that he not make her mortal lover feel insignificant. The man needed to feel he was doing all he could to protect her.
At a slight nod from Alcuin, Meghann released Jimmy. Alcuin came over and shook his hand. "We welcome your assistance."
With that settled, Jimmy hit Alcuin with a barrage of questions concerning his plans.
Meghann wandered over to the back window, not really paying attention. She was staring out at the sea, remembering the past—Simon Baldevar and how she became a vampire.
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
« ^ »
April 21, 1944
When Maggie O'Neill came home after pitching for the Hunter College varsity softball team, she saw that her roommate, Bridie McGovern, was putting away the cleaning supplies.
"About time," Bridie grumbled at her. "Did you deli
berately pitch slow so that all the cleaning would be done when you got home?"
"Fair is fair, Bridie. Didn't I agree to do all the cooking and dish washing next week if you'd clean the house today? And I went into the USO at eight this morning to help with the blood drive. Besides, you're in very good company. I read somewhere that Joan Crawford cleans her Hollywood mansion on her hands and knees."
"Big deal," Bridie grouched.
"Anyhow, don't be mad—look what I brought home." Maggie reached into the brown paper bag she was carrying and removed four bottles of beer.
Bridie's mood immediately improved. "Great! I'll get the bottle opener; you get some glasses. Did you bring home any cigarettes? I'm all out."
After the girls were seated on the couch, Bridie asked, "How's the blood drive going?"
"Not bad—I must have called everyone in Manhattan to come out and give blood on Monday."
Bridie eyed Maggie. "And will the donors include yourself?"
"Of course," Maggie said indignantly. "I've never not given blood. I just have a little trouble with the needle."
Bridie snorted. "A little trouble? I never saw anyone over the age of five make such a fuss about needles. Anyway, how was the game?"
"I pitched a shutout," Maggie said gleefully, opening the second bottle of beer. "You should have seen the looks on the faces of those Barnard snobs."
"Good—then maybe my news won't bother you too much."
"Is something wrong?" Maggie asked.
"I can't go with you to Pauline's tonight." Pauline Manchester was a wealthy girl Bridie and Maggie had met at the USO. They weren't really close, but Pauline had invited them to one of her mother's society parties. They'd gone to a few in the past and both girls had been looking forward to the party.
"Why can't you go? Is something wrong?"
"The hospital called." Bridie was a student nurse at St. Vincent's Hospital. "A bunch of girls called in sick. They need me to work the midnight-to-eight shift all weekend."
