I pulled my bloody mouth away from his neck as I forced the snarling Cat back down deep into my mind. Poor pet, I thought with sympathy, you are still hungry, I know. And I am still hungry. We will have more later.
His eyes rolled open and focused on mine; he smiled, faintly. "Are you all right?" I asked, my voice husky from the emotion of feeding.
"What happened?"
I shook my head. "Nothing happened, Bob. Do you understand? Nothing happened. You took me home and came over here. You checked the inside of the cabin and then lay down on the couch. You were very, very tired."
He yawned. "Yeah, I'm very tired. But if I'm sleeping, why am I here with you…"
"A dream, of course. I was never here with you.
You dropped me off at my cabin and came here by yourself. Go lie down again and sleep."
I led him over to the couch and laid him down. There were no blankets with which to cover him; I'd taken them for Elly earlier. But I smoothed his hair back and kissed the top of his forehead. "Sleep now, Bob. And remember, I was never here."
He muttered the words back to me and fell asleep. I checked his pulse one last time. He would live.
I moved out of the door, closed it and started down the front porch steps, phasing into the Cat as I did so, with only one thought in my mind. "Home. I am coming home."
* * *
CHAPTER TWELVE
« ^ »
Something was wrong. The Cat paced around outside the cabin, uneasy, sniffing the night air. It smelled wrong; the other's scent was still here, but not strong; neither the man's, nor the Wolf's. Instead there was a sickly sweet smell, different and new, but not unlike the scent in that other place we had been. The Cat wailed, its tail thrashed and its ears flattened on top of its head.
I concentrated on calming and suppressing the Cat; recreating my human form in its place. Shivering and naked, I walked up the steps, opened the door and started to call, "Hi, honey, I'm…"
The cabin was empty. And not just empty of life and Mitch; there was nothing there. The kitchen cabinets hung open, with nothing inside. The furniture, the rugs, the draperies were gone. I stared for a while in disbelief and then climbed the stairs, checking on the other rooms. The towels and toiletries were missing from the bathroom; only a slight moistness in the air showed that this room had been used recently. The bedroom had been stripped as well, and on opening the closet I discovered that even my clothes were gone.
I leaned up against the wall and began to laugh. It had a hysterical sound, echoing through the rooms. That he had left was perhaps not surprising, given the recent content of his dreams. But to take everything? Even down to the draperies at the windows? It made no sense.
Then again, he wanted me dead. And this would most certainly do it. Mitch had to have known that I'd be forced to assume the cat form, and he knew as well as I the hazards inherent there. He had left me naked, cold and with inadequate protection from the coming sun.
"Cruelly done, my love." I slid along the wall, sat down on the bare wood floor and began to cry, quietly and desperately. With nothing and no one left to me in the world, all that was left to do was to wait for the dawn.
I must have sat for hours, hunched over in my misery, weeping bloody tears, expending the precious energy stolen what now seemed a lifetime ago. Eventually, though, I ran out of tears and a deadly calm took over. I got up from the floor, opened the window shutters and looked out on the night. Dawn was no more than an hour or two away.
I almost expected to see the Wolf come loping through the trees and up to the door, like so many nights before. Or to hear Mitch's voice call from another room. Despite the physical evidence, his leaving was hard for me to believe. There must be some explanation, my heart insisted, some reason for him to do this. How could I have been so wrong about this man? I knew him so well, I thought, I knew his mind and his heart and his soul. The Mitch I knew would never have done this.
And yet, was he the Mitch I knew? I had taken him away from all he valued. His son died because of me. To say that his life had changed drastically because of me was one of the century's greatest understatements.
I had let my love and need for him rule me. I realized now that I was a fool to think that our love was great enough to surmount the impossible obstacles. I'd made him into a monster, turned him into a feral hunter. And then I'd locked him up here, and taken away even the bitter pleasures of our kind.
"Of course he left," the Cat scoffed. "It is right that he left. He did not love us. He did not know us. And we will survive without him."
"Perhaps you are right, my pet," I soothed, managing to hide my inner thoughts. I did not want it to interfere with what I had planned. "We will leave soon," I said, "but first there is something I must do."
I padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. He hadn't taken everything, of course; some of the drawers still contained valueless junk: candle ends, corks from wine bottles, bits of papers, matches. I pulled out a pack of the latter and gave a hard little laugh. "The Ballroom of Romance, again, I see. But Max would be happy, no doubt, to be a part of this last act."
Stacked in the corner of the kitchen was a pile of newspapers. And yes, under the sink, he had left the cans of kerosene, something Sam had brought in each and every delivery, along with matching lamps the first time, thinking we might need it should the power go out. "Thank you, Sam. Although I fear you will find nothing much of value on your next visit."
Starting upstairs, I crumped up sheets of paper and placed them along the hallway, on the outer walls of the bedroom and bathroom, in the closet. Then, area by area, I splashed some of the kerosene onto the paper and tossed a few matches onto the piles. The flames were slow to catch at first, but I spilled more kerosene onto the open flames and walls. Soon the fire burned brightly and fiercely, licking at the walls. Lovely flames with such wonderful warmth, burning away the deceit and lies that lingered in Mitch's absence.
I laid a path of fire down the stairs, and repeated the same process on the ground level. Almost, I wanted to stay and let the fire take me, but by this time, the Cat was in a state of near-panic. I soothed it again, and went outside to watch the cabin burn.
As I'd hoped, the entire structure was quickly engulfed in flames. I was surprised, though, when I heard the sirens. It should have taken them longer to respond. I pulled back deeper into the woods and watched the trucks pull up in front of the cabin, followed by a familiar red convertible. Bob flung his door open and began to yell at the crew. "Someone's in there. Or was in there. Did she get out in time?"
"Haven't seen anyone," one of the police answered. "Besides, they left town. That Greer fellow stopped by the station last night sometime and said they'd be gone for a while and asked if we could look out for things until they get back."
Bob shook his head. "You must've heard him wrong. I dropped the woman off here earlier this evening. Around ten or so."
The cabin shuddered, and the roof fell in. "You'd better be wrong, Bob, because no one's going to be walking out of that. I just hope we can keep the trees from burning—a fire like this can take out acres. Wonder how it started."
"Jesus." Bob took a step toward the cabin, his voice rising in panic. "She has to still be in there. Otherwise, she'd be standing out here."
"No one in there, Bob. In fact, there's nothing in there at all. Some moving van came in and packed up all their stuff today. They stopped for directions is how I know. They moved out, so far as I can tell. You know how it is with summer folk."
"But she was here. Earlier this evening, she was with Elly at the hospital. How can she have moved out?"
The police officer shrugged. "I'll tell you what I think, Bob. I think he left her. Moved out while she was with Elly, lock, stock and barrel. I do know there was a woman with him when he stopped by the station. Couldn't have been her, I guess, from what you say. So here's the picture: Greer's got himself another woman and they go off together. And she gets home and realizes what happened, sh
e gets mad and starts the fire herself, then heads out somewhere else. Won't be the first time a woman did something crazy when she got rejected."
Another woman? I wanted to come out of the woods and question this man. But what did it matter? Mitch was gone and I was alone. I turned my back on all of them and headed deeper into the trees, phasing into the Cat as I ran, letting it carry me where it willed.
I woke the next evening, shortly after sunset, safely tucked up into a cave. Human once again, or as close to human as I would ever be. Naked. But alive. The Cat had more self-preservation instincts than I'd ever expected. I probed its mind, deeply embedded in mine. Revenge burned close to the surface; it had kept us alive because it wanted Mitch dead. I knew that feeling. Thoughts of revenge had kept me going for almost a century. But the Cat did not remember the regret and the high price that came with the goal. I did not want Mitch's death. I wanted an explanation, a reckoning. Most of all, I wanted my life back the way it had been, when I had been his love and he had been my reason to exist.
"The one certainty in the world, Cat," I said as I crawled out of the cave, "is that once changed, life is never the same. But it does go on."
Our cabin was now nothing more than a few charred timbers standing in a pile of ashes, all cordoned off with yellow police tape. By now they'd have discovered that the fire had been set deliberately and that I did not die inside. I suspected with a bitter laugh that there would be a warrant out for me.
I needed to get out of this place, out of this state. Cadre headquarters in New York seemed a long way away, but it was my only refuge now. From there I could rebuild what was left of my previous life. But I could hardly make the entire trip as the Cat. I needed clothes, at the very least, to get to some other town where I wasn't known, where I wasn't wanted by the law. I would need access to my bank accounts.
First things first, I told myself. I remembered that I'd left my backpack at Elly's cabin; tucked inside it was a change of clothes and my wallet. "We will start with that."
Elly's cabin was locked, but that was no obstacle for me. I chuckled to myself. According to the old legends, you could not keep a vampire out of your house once you'd invited it in. Apparently that old legend was true. I broke the lock and entered, closing the door behind me.
I found my pack and put on my clothes: a pair of jeans, a tank top, a flannel shirt. Unfortunately, I'd lost my favorite pair of boots while phasing into the Cat. I walked up the stairs and into Elly's bedroom. Her boots were a little too large for me, but I borrowed a couple of extra pairs of socks to pad them. The clothes, after all, were for disguise, not for my comfort. Naked or clad, it was all the same to me.
As I laced up the boots, I heard the sound of tires on Elly's gravel driveway. Had they come looking for me this soon? Someone knocked on the front door. "Hello?"
The voice sounded familiar, but out of place.
The knock came gain, harder this time, and the door swung open. "Hello, is anybody home? I'm looking for the Greers."
I almost laughed out loud with relief. This was the first lucky break I'd had in a while. "Sam?" I stepped out into the hallway.
"Deirdre?" He looked up at me, his handsome face creased into a smile. "Thank God you're all right. I saw your cabin and I feared the worst."
I moved down the stairs and gave him a small hug. "I am so very glad to see you, Sam, you have no idea."
"What the hell happened? Your cabin is gone, burned to the ground."
"Yes, I know. I torched it; it was a lovely fire."
"Deirdre? Are you okay? Where's Mitch?"
"Mitch is gone, Sam."
"Gone?" His voice sounded slightly hysterical. "He was in the cabin?"
I shook my head. "No, I didn't burn the cabin down around him, Sam. He is gone. That's all. He packed up everything he had and everything I had and left town. No note, no warning, no reason. Just gone."
"But why would he do that? Why would he leave you? That makes no sense."
I shrugged. "Sense or no, Sam, that is what happened. And so I burned the cabin down. Hell hath no fury, you know."
"Okay. That I can understand." Sam was ever the psychiatrist, and a small smile crossed his face. "I'm glad to see you're in touch with your anger. But, Mitch? Leaving? There must be some reason. Could he have been forced?"
"Forced? Mitch? Who in this world could force him to do anything he did not want to do?"
"You could. But other than you, no one, probably."
I nodded.
"Maybe he felt there was some threat? Something that might harm you if he stayed around?"
I shook my head. "There is only one creature in the world who wants me dead, Sam, and that is Mitch himself."
"And so he left to protect you. See, that's the best reason in the world."
"Oh, yes, indeed. He wanted to protect me enough that he packed up all of my clothing. He took the curtains from the windows, took all the furniture and everything else in the cabin and moved it all to God knows where. Then, to protect me again, I suppose, he stopped by the local police station, with another woman waiting for him in the cab, to tell them he would be leaving town for a while. Good protection, that."
He started to speak and I laid a hand over his mouth. "No, Sam, I do not want to talk about it. Not now. Not ever. He is gone; let us leave it at that."
"Fine, Deirdre. You're the boss. But what now?"
"Now," I said, taking the wallet from my backpack and tucking it into my back pocket, "you will take me out of here and back to New York with you. I am a member of the Cadre, if it still exists. They will take me in; they have to." I laughed, a small bitter cackle. "They are family."
"Vivienne will be thrilled to see you again, Deirdre, I'm sure of that. And she will help you."
"I do not want help. I just want a safe place to stay. Preferably someplace where I am not wanted for arson."
Sam laughed. "Never a dull moment with you, Deirdre Griffin."
"On the contrary, Sam, most of my life has been comprised of nothing but dull moments." I took his arm and headed him to the door. "But you are never around to witness them. I would have been perfectly content with another century or so of dullness, if Mitch had not…" I choked back a sob.
"You'll find him again, Deirdre," he reassured me as we got into the car and drove away. "I'm sure of it."
"And when I do?"
"Then you'll know."
"I do not want to know. I do not want to find him." I shook my head and stared out the window. Somewhere deep inside my mind the Cat rumbled. Yes, we will find him. We will know. And then we will kill.
* * *
PART THREE
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
« ^ »
I only lingered long enough in New Orleans to attend Moon's funeral mass, held on the ninth day following her death. I'd closed our two bank accounts and converted everything to cash. It wasn't much; even considering my limited experience with money, I knew that a little under two thousand dollars wouldn't last long. Angelo had taken away my biggest worry, that of what to do with our small house, by offering to take over the mortgage payment for me in exchange for being able to live there, at least while I was "off gallivantin' in the city."
I'd gotten used to Angelo by this time; it seemed natural to me that he should pick up where Moon left off. His froggish walk and his squinting eyes became familiar, and before he moved in he brought me gifts and objects that might prove useful to me in my search. Some were vials of offensive-smelling liquid or lotions, all precisely labeled in his small square handwriting. I laughed at first when he started pulling them out of his black medicine bag, but he peered at me so intently that I sobered immediately and listened to what he had to say.
"Now this," he'd say, holding up a particular bottle, "this one keep folks from takin' your money. Put a dribble on your wallet or your bags; they avoid them like the plague." Or: "This baby let you guide some poor man's mind, just a drop in his drink and crash! You ins
ide his head, pokin' around just as if you was at home in there. Now I make some of these extra strong, on account of the power of the folk you be meeting, so be careful if you use them on regular folks." There were oils to hide my natural scent and ointments to confuse the eyes, "like the grease on the lens of the camera that make them models look so good." He chuckled to himself over that one. "I givin' you the best I got, Lily girl. You have faith and believe and you do just fine."
Odd that I couldn't believe. Despite all the strangeness of my life so far, it still seemed unlikely that such power could reside in little jars. But I'd packed them just the same at his insistence, smiling to myself, thinking as I'd wrapped the last of them that at the very least, when I run out of money, I can set up a corner stand and sell them on the street.
Moon's mass was held early that morning; when I arrived at the church, the sun was just rising and the streets still held a trace of predawn haze. I wore a black skirt and a black T-shirt with my heavy boots. The only flash of color was my hair, flaming above my pale skin, and the red bead necklace I'd received at the grave site.
Sitting in the back pew of the church, I rested my arm atop one of the two cases I'd packed. Inside were three pairs of jeans, three T-shirts, assorted socks and underwear and a black leather jacket. The other bag contained what few cosmetics I used, my wallet and money, and 'Lo's "medicines." My stomach was fluttering and twisting itself in knots at the thought of the journey that lay ahead. But I'd resolved to find my mother. And find her I would.
After the service ended and the congregation filed out, I lingered, wanting to postpone one of the last tasks I had to do. But I had bus tickets and very little time to waste. I sighed, picked up my bags and walked over to the small, dark alcove that held the statues of the saints. I knelt in front of the altar for St. Barbara, dropped a quarter into the box and lit a candle.
Vampire Legacy 04 - Blood of My Blood Page 8
