Vampire Legacy 04 - Blood of My Blood

by Taylor, Karen E

  "Why?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Why? Why would you allow this? Chained like a prisoner, blindfolded, waiting for someone to choose you and take your blood?"

  He seemed confused. "It's just a game, isn't it? They told me it wouldn't hurt"

  I laughed. "And what if they lied?"

  "But they wouldn't lie. This place would have to close down."

  "Ah. And so here you are. And here I am. Now, what do we do? I could unchain you and take off your blindfold and we could talk. Or I could drink your blood." He gave a sharp intake of breath at that "I am very hungry," I confessed, moving closer to him and breathing the words into his neck. "I am also very angry, not at you, of course, but you are here. And those that I am angry with are not What is your name?"

  "Um, they told me there would be no names."

  I reached up and grasped his throat." I asked your name, human. Do not make me angrier."

  "Kevin," he blurted out. His fear was intoxicating and I felt my hunger grow. The Cat purred deep within me. "I like this game," it said. "Let us play some more."

  "So what is it going to be, Kevin?" I took my hand from his throat and ran my nails down his neck and chest. "Talk? Or blood?"

  "I paid extra for the vampire scene, didn't I?"

  "I suppose you did. And I promise you I will not disappoint you." I stood there silently for a minute, scenting his flesh and his sweat and his blood. Then I laid my hands on the wall on either side of him, holding him firmly in place with my body. "Turn your head," I said to him, and he did so with no questions. I could feel him tremble next to me; his hands opened and closed uselessly in their shackles; he swallowed hard and gave a small smile.

  "When?" he asked, trying to move his head.

  I grasped his chin and pushed the side of his head to the wall. "Now."

  He jumped when the tips of my fangs grazed his neck, gasped as my teeth penetrated his skin. We both moaned as his blood began to flow. I drew on him slowly, savoring him, enjoying the stolen warmth that rushed through my body. Every mouthful was ecstasy, the shared experience more intensely sensual than any act of sex or love. Each successive sip tasted better than the last, urging me to take it all, drink it all, swallow it all. Drain him dry.

  "No." I pulled my mouth away from him and stepped back, wiping my bloody lips on my hand.

  Kevin groaned and moved his hands feebly. "Are you done?"

  I laughed. "Yes, thank you. I am finished. Was it worth what you paid?"

  The mouth under the blindfold smiled. "Yeah. Oh, yeah." He was silent for a while, still smiling. "Thank you. It was incredible. Like someone was dragging my soul through a velvet tunnel. I felt like I could die and not care. How'd you do that?"

  I reached up and patted his cheek. "Trade secret, Kevin. I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

  "What do I do now?"

  "Oh, I expect Jules will be along soon to release you. Perhaps he will even bring you a drink."

  I opened the door and walked out into the hallway. All of the rooms but one were empty now. I chuckled as I walked past Room Five hearing deep laughter and higher-pitched giggling from behind the closed door. Trust Vivienne to keep the big spenders happy.

  Jules met me at the door to the club. "Everything satisfactory, Miss Griffin?"

  "Fine, Jules, thank you. Take him a drink, please, I suspect he is quite thirsty."

  He nodded. "But of course. For the rest of the night he can drink as much as he likes for free. It's part of the package."

  I shook my head. None of this made any sense to me at all. Not for the first time, I wished I was back in the cabin in Maine. But the cabin lay in ashes, along with the shreds of my relationship with Mitch, and no amount of wishing could make life different. I sighed. "Tell Sam and Vivienne that I needed to take a walk. I will see them later back at headquarters."

  "As you wish."

  I walked the city streets until it was close to dawn searching for what I had lost. It was a futile endeavor; what I had lost seemed unrecoverable. Mitch had gone and I was alone. I had a daughter, true, but she had been instrumental in taking from me what I most valued. Perhaps it was fitting. I had left her for dead.

  Poor little one, never having a chance for a normal life. My daughter, blood of my blood, closer blood and dearer than any lover I had ever had. Had I but known, I'd have sacrificed everything to have her with me.

  But I had not known and I had left her, chasing down love and blood for so many years, finally finding all I had ever wanted in Mitch. And now? Now I had lost everything. I had neither of them. She hated me. And he had destroyed my love by his leaving. It mattered little that he might have left believing her to be me. I condemned him for the same reasons I condemned myself. He should have known.

  I sat on the steps outside his old apartment for some time, hoping for a miracle. Hoping that all I had been through was nothing but a bad dream. And that he would come out of the door and smile at me, his eyes glowing with love and promise. I closed my eyes and pretended that all of that was true. That Mitch was only a flight of stairs away. That he would come and call me inside to bed.

  Then this would be a perfect world. One in which the Cat's instincts had not been aroused. One in which I didn't have to fear the killing of one I loved. Or fear his killing me.

  I sighed and opened my eyes. It was not a perfect world, nor would it ever be.

  But there is an easy solution, I thought. I can sit here until dawn. I closed my eyes again, and this time imagined the lovely heat of the sun's rays caressing my upturned face. After all the long cold and dark years, I yearned for the sunshine almost as much as I feared it. Perhaps it was time. And it would not hurt for too long, I thought, and, oh, the warmth would be heaven.

  "Miss Griffin?"

  I opened my eyes not to the sun, but to Claude's wide face. He looked distressed and anxious.

  I snapped at him. "Damn it, Claude, call me Deirdre. Unlike the rest of the Cadre leeches, I do not require your worship or deference."

  "Miss Courbet sent me out to find you," he said, glancing uneasily at the late night sky. "It is close to dawn and we should be getting back. Our flight to New Orleans leaves a little after sunset tonight"

  "Did Vivienne fear I came out here to greet the sun?"

  Claude hung his head and shrugged. "I don't know what she fears, Deirdre. She doesn't confide in me that much. I was just told to find you and bring you back."

  "And if I do not wish to be brought back?"

  He laughed nervously. "Please don't make that an option, Deirdre. I can't afford to fail."

  "Very well, then. I do not need your failure on my shoulders with everything else. And I suppose we should go at that. There is nothing here that matters anymore." I got up from the steps without looking back.

  There would be no miracles for me, I knew. Just endless lonely nights falling on top of each other. "And someday," I whispered, "I will greet the sun."

  Claude shivered at that. But had no words in response. He took my hand and tucked it into his arm, and proceeded to escort me back to Cadre headquarters.

  "How old are you, Claude?"

  "Thirty-five."

  "Ah," I said, "that is younger than I'd thought."

  "I look older, I think, because of my size."

  "And you have been with us for six months?"

  He nodded. "Yeah."

  "And tell me, Claude, do you like it? Is the life of a vampire everything you ever wanted?"

  He paused and looked down at me with a puzzled expression. "You know, I don't really know. And no one's ever asked me that before. A lot of the life is wonderful, the heightened senses, the power and the strength. I was always a night person—I used to play piano in a blues band in New Orleans—so I would wake with sunset and sleep with the dawn. That much, at least, is the same."

  "And the blood does not bother you?"

  He blushed. "No, the taking of blood is wonderful. Much better than anything I've ever experienced."
>
  "And so you do like being what you are?"

  He puffed his lips out. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I guess I do." He smiled. "And Vivienne is great; she's patient and gracious. And generous. She bought me my share of the Westwood. A birthday present, she said. And I like the work. And you?"

  "Me?"

  "Yes, do you like being a vampire?"

  "It is all I have known for so very long, Claude." We entered the back door of The Imperial and got on the elevator for the Cadre level. "I struggled for years, on my own. No guidance, no training. Had Max stayed around, things might have been different. Things should have been different. But they weren't.

  The cycle of life goes on all around me and I remain untouched. I have held on to my humanity for too long, I think."

  We stopped outside my door and he unlocked it for me. "And so you don't like it?" he said.

  I kissed him on the cheek. "In a word, Claude? No. But I do not know how to let it go. And I cannot stop from hoping that there is some purpose to my life beyond feeding and sleeping and yearning after the sun. Good night."

  I closed the door and lay down on the bed. I felt the sun begin to rise, and I cried myself to sleep.

  * * *

  PART FIVE

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  « ^ »

  Looking out the window of the chartered plane, I tried as hard as I could to ignore, without seeming to, the man who sat holding my hand. He was a stranger. And a dangerous one at that.

  It had, at first, gone all too easily. From the moment she had left the cabin to the moment her loving husband and I had boarded the plane, I'd been prepared for a fight, a protest, something that would interfere. It had all gone according to plan, and that made me nervous. Deep down inside, maybe I was hoping that it wouldn't go this far.

  But he'd accepted me without a question; he'd been happy and loving and trusting. At least until we boarded the plane. It worried me quite a lot; up until now I'd have had a way to escape, should he discover that I wasn't who I pretended to be. Now I had nowhere to run and nothing much in the way of protection. I fingered the beads hidden under my shirt "Please," I whispered. "Please."

  "Deirdre?"

  When I didn't respond, he squeezed my hand. "Deirdre? Come back."

  I jumped and laughed. "Sorry, Mitch. I wasn't paying attention. What did you say again?"

  "I said your name." He gave me a sharp look. "Are you feeling all right? You seem kind of edgy."

  "Edgy? Me?" I shook my head. "No, I'm not edgy." I paused a second, trying to think of what sort of complaints a vampire might have and settled on the obvious. "I'm hungry."

  "You are too edgy. But I know what you mean about hunger. It's been scarce pickings lately. Will we have time to feed after we get there?"

  "I'm sure we can manage something."

  "Good." He leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Go back to your window-watching, my love; I know how you are on planes."

  He got up from his seat and wandered about the plane, poking into the compartments and bins. While he was distracted, I allowed myself a small look around and a smug smile. This sure beat sitting elbow-to-elbow with sweaty people on a hot, stuffy bus. It was even better than the first-class flight from New York to Maine. "Nice plane, huh?" I called to him just as he called out to me, "I found the bar. Do you want a drink?"

  "Sure. That'd be great. I'll have whatever you're having, thanks."

  I heard the clink of ice, heard the liquid sound of something being poured into glasses, heard him walk up next to me.

  "Did you say something about the plane?"

  "Yeah, but it's not a big deal." I reached a hand up for the glass. "Thanks, love. What is it?"

  "Scotch."

  Victor had filled me in on likes and dislikes for both Mitch and my mother, but there had been so much he'd told me. I'd tried to focus on names and events as being the most important. But I did remember him mentioning Mitch drinking scotch. And so, it seemed natural that he and my mother would both indulge. "Oh," I said, "that's good."

  He stood over me. "I know how much you enjoy a scotch every now and then." He took a sip from his glass. "This is a particularly good one, actually. Nothing like a single-malt to bring happy times into proper perspective."

  "That's true, Mitch." I raised my glass and clinked it against his. "Here's to all our happy times."

  He took a seat across from me this time. I could feel his cold blue gaze on me as I sipped at my drink.

  "What is it, Mitch? Is something wrong?"

  "Nothing's wrong, Deirdre, my love. What could possibly be wrong? Here I am in the embrace of my loving wife, who has gone to a lot of trouble and expense to plan a surprise vacation for me. I'm thrilled."

  I gave him a smile and a nod before turning back to the window. "Anyway, we'll be landing soon."

  "And then what?"

  "It's a surprise," I said. Provided Angelo follows my instructions, I thought, a very big surprise. "But"—I looked over at him—"your glass is empty. Let me get you another."

  I got up from my seat and went to the bar, feeling his eyes follow every move I made. "This plane reminds me of the one we took from England," he said from his seat. "In fact, it seems almost exactly the same. I guess they build them all the same, but even so, it seems strange. Don't you think?"

  "Not all that strange," I said over my shoulder. "It's Victor's plane."

  "And exactly how did you manage that? Last I heard, Victor was crazier than a loon. Has been ever since his pretty-boy friend was killed. What was his name again?"

  I smiled, my back still to him. Finally, a test. And one to which I knew the answer. I turned around and leaned up against the bar. "Victor may be crazier than a loon, Mitch, but you aren't. And you know the name as well as I do. Ron Wilkes. In fact," I said, remembering another bit of truth to throw into the deception, "he copiloted the flight from England." I laughed and guessed. "You never liked him much, did you?"

  My correct answer should have relaxed him. "No, I sure as hell did not. I'm sure you can remember why." He was far from relaxed; his mouth tightened and his eyes bored into me.

  I licked my lips and ran a hand over my front jeans pocket, taking small comfort in the three little bulges I felt. "Emergencies only," Victor had said. I thought, somehow, that this would qualify. But I needed to gain just a few seconds without Mitch's sharp eyes watching me.

  "Do me a favor, love? Go up to the cockpit and check when we'll be landing. I want to see the city lights as we fly in."

  Mitch scowled at first, and then gave a small twisted smile. "You and your window-watching. Okay, I'll check."

  As he turned to go, I spun around again and reached into my pocket, pulling out the vial of Angelo's confusion potion and one of the two small capsules Victor had given me. I didn't have time to think. With shaky hands I opened the vial first and then the capsule, pouring the entire contents of both into Mitch's glass, and stuffed the empty containers back into my pocket.

  By the time Mitch came back down the aisle, I had finished pouring the scotch and swirled it around a bit. I put the glass up to my mouth and pretended to take a sip, while I sniffed at it. It smelled like scotch. I handed it to him, thankful he didn't prefer vodka.

  He took it from me, drank it down in one gulp and dumped the leftover ice into the sink. "The pilot says we'll be there in about five minutes and suggests that we sit down and fasten our seat belts. I'll clean up here first."

  I looked at the ice in the sink. Was there a residue of powder? "Don't be silly, Mitch. I'll put this all away."

  "Sit." His voice was harsh and commanding. Then he smiled briefly. "I can manage to put away a few glasses without your help. And you wouldn't want to miss your first view of the city, would you?"

  I went back to my seat and sat down. Minutes later, he sat across from me. "All done," he said. "Now we don't have to worry about flying glassware during touchdown."

  I looked out the window
as I was expected to. He stared at me a while, then sat next to me, peering over my shoulder. "It's a pretty sight, isn't it?" His voice tickled my ear and I shivered. "Glad to be back, honey?"

  "Back?" My voice cracked slightly and I cleared my throat. "I've never been here before. You should know that." I turned my head and found myself nose-to-nose with him. The expression on his face was that of pure fury.

  "No," he hissed at me, his canines growing with his anger, "I know that Deirdre Griffin has never been here before. But you? You are not Deirdre." He grabbed my shoulders with unbelievably strong hands and shook me. "Damn it, you look like her, you smell like her. Enough to make even me wonder. Your voice is right and you give all the right answers. But you don't speak the way she does. I get no feeling for your soul, as if a stranger had crawled into her skin. When I touch you, you don't respond right. And your eyes are wrong." He paused, loosening his grip on me; his eyes glazed over. He shook himself, as if trying to rid himself of the drug, but it was useless. His eyelids drooped; his hands fell from me and dropped at his side. "What did you put in my drink?"

  I smiled, offering Victor a silent thanks. "Amitriptyline. It won't hurt you, really, just slow you down a bit."

  "And then what do you plan to do with me? Drop me off at a park bench somewhere to watch the sunrise?" He said the words slowly, making a visible effort to control his speech.

  "I intend to keep you. Safe and whole. You won't be harmed."

  "Keep me? For how long?"

  "Until my mother comes for you."

  "Your mother? Who the hell are you?"

  I laughed at his confusion. "My name is, at least currently, Lily Williams." He gazed at me blankly. "Lily Williams?" I nodded. "That's right, Lily Williams. Beloved daughter of John and Dorothy Grey Williams. Born in 1860. Any of this sound familiar, Mitch?" He rolled his eyes and worked his mouth for a while before he managed the words. "You're Deirdre's daughter?"

  "Nice to meet you." I laughed. "Although I guess under the circumstances, I probably shouldn't call you Daddy."