by Trisha Baker
"Jesus Christ," Jimmy whispered.
"Oh, that wasn't even the half of it. Let's just say he wasn't a very nice guy. Anyway, the only way for me to leave him and the evil insanity he forced me to participate in was to kill him. I got in one hell of a lucky shot and put a stake through his heart. Then I left him on the same rooftop where he put me. End of story."
"When did you meet him?"
"1944—at a friend's house."
"I guess he's like you?"
"Like me? Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, you wouldn't know to look at him that he was a vampire." Jimmy noticed Maggie couldn't even bring herself to say the guy's name. There was a lot more that she wasn't telling. But that was fine—he wasn't going to try to force it out. Let her tell him when she was ready. "Very handsome man, actually. So the movies weren't completely wrong—the tall, dark, handsome vampire exists along with the grotesque ghouls."
"Why did he make you a vampire? Did he have a lot of vampire girls?"
"No, he wasn't running a harem. It wasn't a Hammer Films production—beautiful, bosomy women in lingerie serving his every need. Remember that picture in my living room?" Jimmy nodded.
"Well, that was his wife. She died back when he was a mortal, and I look like her."
"Then he couldn't have been all bad," Jimmy told her. "I mean, if he loved his wife so much—"
Maggie laughed, and choked on cigarette smoke. "Jimmy, he did not love Isabelle. He made her life hell, and he did the same to me. I don't want to talk about him anymore," she said abruptly.
"So what happened after you killed him?"
"I went to Ireland, and Alcuin became my mentor."
"When was that?"
"1957—when I said my family lost money that year… Well, Simon," she said, scowling, "was wealthy. But when I left, I didn't take anything. Just clothes and some things my father left me."
"But you had enough to buy that house."
"That was a gift from Alcuin. He gave me and my friend Charles enough money to put us on our feet. He said that both of us, since we'd been transformed really young, never had much chance to live in the mortal world. And he knew we were both going stir-crazy, so he told us to pursue lives and careers on our own—the ones we might have had if we hadn't become vampires. Of course, we had both needled him for years about going out into the world, but at first he said it wasn't safe. But when he was finally convinced Lord Baldevar was dead, he gave us his blessing." Meghann sighed. "But that wasn't the only reason he had for encouraging us to leave his home."
"What else? Didn't he like you?"
"He liked us fine—that was the whole problem. You see, part of what Alcuin trained me in was magic, the occult—using my psychic ability. If I say so myself, I'm pretty good at it. But Charles and I—well, we work together extremely well as priest and priestess. And Alcuin started letting us conduct all the High Holidays—Samhain, Imbolc, Beltane. Now, there were other vampires—centuries old—who got jealous about all the attention Alcuin lavished on us… particularly me. They thought I didn't deserve it."
"Why?"
"Because I was Simon's consort—or whore as more than a few of them referred to me. As far as they're concerned, I can never be fully trusted—because Simon was my first master—so they really loathed the idea that Alcuin gave me an exalted position. And then some simply objected because Charles and I are, for vampires, quite young. What had we ever done to deserve being at Alcuin's side?" Maggie laughed harshly. "I guess putting a stake through Simon's heart—something nobody else ever did—wasn't enough for them. So Alcuin simply gave us his blessing to live on our own for a while—let everything smooth over."
"How long have you been on your own?"
"About seven years."
"That's it? I thought you said you met this guy in 1957."
"I did, and the basic apprenticeship took twenty years—the same amount of time it used to take for someone to become a Druid."
"Are you a Druid?"
"In away. I study a lot of different religions, Jimmy."
"So what did you learn in those twenty years?"
"For the first five, it was my body that was developed—not my mind. Have you ever engaged in any kind of backbreaking physical labor?"
"I worked on a farm when I was a teenager."
"Then you might know what happens when you're constantly exerting yourself—it clears your mind completely. Which was what Alcuin wanted. When I think back—the Spartan exercises, the constant practice with a broadsword and jousting like some medieval knight, the huge stones I had to lift—ick, I feel my muscles tightening again. But it worked—all the anguish and frustration I brought to him started dropping away. And when he felt that I had achieved some tranquility in mind, the meditation began. From there—magic."
"What kind of magic?"
"Some relatively simple things—for a vampire. Things Simon should have taught me, but had never bothered. Levitation, telekinesis, hypnosis—basically, using the power of the mind to alter reality. Learning to concentrate, focus thoughts. As for the more mystical side—I'll tell you some other time."
"So, Alcuin taught you how to control those punks from last night."
Maggie looked uncomfortable. "No. Alcuin would not have done that—he would have very gently 'suggested' that they leave."
"And Simon?"
Maggie laughed, a bit shrilly. "If he found someone attempting to steal from him? At the very least… hang them from the streetlight by their own entrails. So I guess you could put my reaction somewhere in the middle. Didn't kill them—but I damn sure hurt them. And I liked it. That's always been the biggest problem—and where I need Alcuin's guidance the most."
"What do you mean?"
Maggie sighed. "I've never tried to explain this to a human." She thought a minute. "OK. Let's say someone cut you off in traffic—caused a fender bender to this gorgeous machinery. And then they were a real asshole about it—refused to fess up. Think you could get so mad you'd want to kill them?"
"Yup."
"And what if you could do it and get away with it?"
Jimmy began to see what she meant.
She saw his understanding and nodded. "Jimmy, what I have inside me makes your dependency on alcohol look like a joke. It's knowing that the power is there, knowing I can do whatever I want and knowing how damn good it feels. Everyday things—small annoyances are a damned trial for me. When I saw that kid quake, I can't tell you how badly I wanted his blood. How good I knew it would taste with the fear and subservience I could put in him. Every night I want to do something like that, and every night I have to fight. If I hadn't met Alcuin, I don't think I could do it. He gave me the ability to control the darkness inside me—darkness Simon put there for good. As long as I live, it will be there."
"And you'll have to fight it—so that you're not like the thing that killed Jay."
"Yes."
Jimmy examined her profile, her hand resting on the dashboard. He saw the emerald ring that had intrigued him before, its gems reflecting the overhead lights. "Did Alcuin give you that?"
"No, he gave me the cross you saw around my waist—I like to wear it close to me. This was a gift from Simon."
"So why not take it off?"
Maggie shook her head. "Jimmy, that's one thing about the modern world I can't stand. People seem to think they can forget, or worse still, rewrite the past. Every time I look at this ring, it forces me to remember what I did—what I enjoyed doing for a time. And that at one time I truly was Simon Baldevar's consort. I'm not going to forget that I was infatuated with him, or that I admired him. It would be dangerous to try and deny it, pretend he never existed. No, this ring is my hair shirt. I want to see it and remember what I was. What I could be if I ever let my guard down."
"Did Alcuin teach you to kill vampires?"
Meghann nodded. "Please don't get the idea that I do it all the time. There aren't that many vampires in the world… and very few like that thing you encountered. Of co
urse, there are those who enjoy killing. But they're intelligent, cunning. It's very difficult to track them down."
"You kill them at night?"
"No, at twelve noon!" she said sarcastically. "Of course I kill them at night."
"Don't fly off the handle. I was just thinking… Why don't you teach me?"
"Teach you what?"
"How to kill vampires."
Alcuin glanced at his watch. "Banrion, I think you should go pick up Charles now. His flight is due in at one-fifteen."
Jimmy frowned. "You're going out—alone? What about Simon? Why don't I go?"
Alcuin answered him. "We do not feel Simon's presence—I think it's safe enough for Meghann to pick up Charles."
"But not safe enough for me to go with her, right? So you don't know for sure that he isn't out there."
"There are no guarantees anymore, Jimmy," Meghann told him. "But I will not skulk and hide from him. Now I'm going to the airport—alone. Stop that protesting! The car is in the driveway—that's protected land. From there, all I have to do is pick up Charles. We'll be fine. You stay here and finish our story for Alcuin." Jimmy probably could have come with her, but she simply wanted some time alone to absorb all that had happened tonight. And she wanted to talk to Charles alone—something Alcuin was aware of.
Jimmy swallowed back his protests and watched her leave. Was this what it was going to be like until Simon showed up? Would he be scared to death that every time she was gone she might be killed? Would he sit in the house, locked up for the night, quaking at any sound?
Alcuin put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Jimmy was starting to see what Maggie had told him: "If you look in his eyes and see the gentle tranquility and love, you'll forget all about his appearance."
"Meghann will be fine. Don't underestimate her strength."
Jimmy nodded. "She's one tough lady—after that night, both she and Darlene went to work on me."
Alcuin smiled, happy to distract the mortal from his worry. "Yes, what did happen when she met your sister?"
"At first, Darlene wasn't too thrilled about us showing up on her doorstep at midnight. But then she took one look at Maggie and told me that for the first time in three years, I'd done something right. She doesn't know about… well, what Maggie is. She just thinks I found a girl who got me on the straight and narrow." Jimmy chuckled. "Darlene has no idea Maggie turned me into Dr. Van Helsing."
"How did Meghann train you?" She had not discussed Jimmy Delacroix with Alcuin—training the young man was her project alone.
"First I had to give up drinking for one year; then I had to go back to school. Next she taught me self-defense. Says I can thank you for all the nights I went to bed barely able to walk—the U.S. Marines had nothing on Maggie."
"A sound program."
"I know, but she had a slightly different concept of vampire-hunter than what I had in mind. She didn't mean going around dank castles ripping up coffins. No, no, no. I'm a computer vampire-hunter. At school, I learned a lot about computers and then I met some hackers. My job is to monitor all the police, federal agencies, newspapers, magazines, and TV shows in the tristate area for any stories that could be vampire related—what she did herself before I came along. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it doesn't pan out; it turns out to be satanic cults or serial killers. In six years, we've found five instances of vampires. Twice she took care of them herself—but she let me handle the others."
Alcuin kept silent. He knew about those slayings. Meghann only let Jimmy do it because she was absolutely sure nothing could go wrong. She wanted to protect Jimmy, but now it had backfired. There was no way he had a prayer if Simon Baldevar found him and he, Meghann, and Charles weren't around to protect him. And even if they were there…
Still, Alcuin thought he had found a way to get Jimmy's mind off Meghann. "You say you can break into protected files with a computer?"
"Sure."
Alcuin guided him into Meghann's study. "Then let's find Simon. Can we search investment companies?"
"No problem." Jimmy handed him a yellow legal pad. "Write down every alias he's ever used that you know about. The names of his friends, people he admired, family—everything. When people choose false names, they want it to be something they'll remember—most of the time. I'm going to start with anything I can find on him from 1957. If you all thought he was dead, someone must have taken over his holdings. Or maybe he kept administering them himself with a phony name. And Maggie told me about that lady whose daughter he killed. He was using the name Simon Baldevar to make business deals, right? And that was nearly fifty years ago. So he must have killed off that identity…"
Alcuin smiled over the legal pad. The young man had nearly forgotten he was there; he was completely absorbed in his task. Now he wasn't feeling sorry for himself or unincluded. He was participating, helping with the battle against Simon. And who knew? Perhaps he would find some useful information.
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
« ^ »
Meghann spotted Charles leaving the plane and ran over to him. "Charles!"
He caught her in a fierce hug, and inspected her black equestrienne jacket, skintight blue jeans, and cruel black boots a dominatrix would envy. "Young consort," he thundered in his dead-on imitation of Simon, "how dare you appear before your lord and master in those rags."
He was relieved to see the tension drain from her face slightly—she always laughed when he mimicked Simon Baldevar. Meghann widened her eyes to comic proportions. "Oh, Master," she cried piteously, "I was sure you would like my beautiful boots planted up your—"
Charles laughed. "I'm glad to see you can still joke about him."
"What else should I do—cry and crawl into a corner? Fuck him!" Beneath her defiant words, Charles saw the glimmer of tears on her eyelids and heard the slight tremor in her voice.
He picked up his tote bag, and they hurried through the crowd to the airport parking lot. Then Charles hugged her again and told her, "Let it out, Meghann."
She started crying. These tears were the reason she hadn't allowed Jimmy to come with her—she wanted a chance to pour all her fear out where he couldn't see her. "I'm so frightened," she sobbed against her best friend's chest.
"Of course you are, Meghann, only a lunatic or an imbecile wouldn't be frightened of Lord Baldevar. I'm scared to death." He handed her a handkerchief, and she wiped her eyes.
Meghann pulled herself up on the hood of the car and stretched out against the windshield. Charles followed suit, handing her a cigarette, and they glanced up at the planes overhead for a few minutes, smoking silently.
Then Meghann turned to her friend. "You're only in danger because you helped me—that's why Simon hates you. Are you sorry that you went out of your way to help me leave him?"
"Sorry that I made the best friend of my life? Sorry for enjoying the past forty years of that friendship? Simon would have already won if he could make me regret all that. Meghann, I love you—and I will never regret helping you."
"Will you regret it when you greet the sunrise with a stake in your heart?"
Charles paled. "I can only hope Simon would show that much mercy. But I think if he did manage to corner either of us, it would not be a quick death. My God, Meghann—we, particularly you, humiliated him. The great Lord Baldevar spurned by his consort when she met a vampire who offered her a new path. And he couldn't stop you from leaving. Everyone knows the story—the dark master of the underworld defeated by a mere slip of a girl when he tripped on a piece of glass. And then his age-old enemy offers her sanctuary. Meghann, his flock will not obey him—or fear him—the way he desires if he does not make an example of us."
Meghann didn't reply; Charles had just put her deepest fears into words. Long ago, Simon had warned her that she would never want him to hate her. What would he do to her now that he despised her? Please, God, she prayed, if he finds us and we can't defeat him, let it be quick. Don't let him subject any of us to a death th
at will leave us no pride or dignity.
Charles saw her lips whiten and said briskly, "No more brooding! We will not give Simon the satisfaction of making us sit and tremble in anticipation of him. We shall proceed as always—now put that damned top down and take me to your home!"
The night was chilly, but the cold didn't bother Meghann or Charles. While she maneuvered the huge car out of the busy airport, Charles reached into his tote bag and popped a CD into the player Jimmy Delacroix had recently installed in her classic car.
ABBA filled the air, and Meghann grinned. The sappy pop music was precisely what she needed. When "SOS" came on, Charles commented, "This could be Simon's song to you… pining away after his faithless lover abandoned him…"
Since traffic on the Van Wyck Expressway was its usual bumper-to-bumper self, Meghann was able to take her eyes off the road long enough to whack Charles on the head with the CD cover. "Swine!"
In a lisping falsetto, Charles warbled the lyrics to "SOS."
Meghann howled with laughter and Charles joined her, happy to see his foolish joke banish her fears and anxieties for a few minutes.
Finally Meghann wiped tears out of her eyes and gasped, "For your information, love was never nice or good between us."
"Was anything good between you in those thirteen years?"
She considered and finally said, "Sex… I'll give the bastard that much. That was the bond between us… lust, nothing more."
Charles was curious about the relationship Meghann rarely discussed. "Did you ever think you were in love with him?"
She sighed and lit another cigarette. "Maybe… at first. But it wasn't love… It was infatuation. I'd never met anyone like him, anyone so utterly self-assured or charming… or mesmerizing. I guess I was in awe of him. But love was never there… on either side. I was overwhelmed by him, and he… Simon was enchanted, or perhaps infuriated, by my resemblance to Isabelle."
"What about Jimmy? Are you in love with him?"
"How can I be? He's mortal."
