Blood Red Dawn

by Karen E. Taylor

  I checked my reflection in the window in front of me, I’d managed to hold most of my features, except for the eyes that appeared too old for the face I’d concocted. Widening them a bit helped give me a more youthful appearance which might serve me better in begging some of the passersby for money. No sense in showing my true self while trying to get away without a trace. Even now I thought I could sense Max’s pursuit.

  The first couple I approached turned me down without even giving me a glance as did the second. But luck was with me on the third person to pass, a lone woman, middle aged and plump, but with a pleasant expression on her face. “Excuse me, ma’am,” I said, keeping a faint twang to my voice. “I wonder if I could bother you for a little change to make a phone call.”

  She stopped and smiled at me, looking me up and down. “You certainly can. And”—she rummaged in her oversized purse, pulling out her wallet—“I’ll give you a little more than that.” She handed me a twenty dollar bill, a handful of change, and a small white card giving the address and phone number of the Angel of Mercy Mission. “This’ll get you a phone call and a good hot meal, child. If you don’t mind my saying so, you look cold and hungry.”

  The truth of the matter is that I was ravenous. But not for anything money would buy. My proximity to this woman brought out a hunger for her blood.

  I shook my head. “No, ma’am,” I said, my voice muffled slightly due to the growth of my fangs. “I’m fine.” I pushed the bill and the change into my pocket. “Thank you very much.”

  “Not a problem. And if you need a place to stay, for the night or even for several nights, come to the address on the card and if I’m not there, mention that I referred you. I’m Marie, by the way.” She held out her hand to shake mine.

  I took it and she held it between her two hands. “You’re chilled and shaking, dear. Are you sure you wouldn’t want to come along with me now and I’ll get you a place to sleep?”

  “No thanks, ma’am. I’m fine and I have a place to stay, I just need to call a friend.”

  “What’s your name?”

  I felt so relaxed with her that I almost gave her my real name. “Dei—er, Dee. Short for,” I paused, what would Dee be short for? “Dorothy.”

  She smiled. “And do you have a last name, Dee?”

  Between the terrible hunger that threatened to overwhelm me, my need to get some shelter before dawn, the strain of holding my transformation, and the terrible feeling that Max would find me soon, I couldn’t think. “Um,” I said, “er, Smith?”

  Her eyes raked over me. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s okay, honey.” She reached out and took my arm. “It’s not a good thing for a young girl like you to be out on the streets by herself this late. Come with me.”

  “No,” I pulled away from her. “I do not wish to be rude, Marie, but I am fine. Thank you.”

  I turned and began to walk swiftly away from her, realizing that my voice had reverted back to its normal pitch. And from the tingling in my face and scalp, I felt sure that my disguise was failing. Even exhausted as I was, I began to run, and didn’t stop for four or five blocks until I came to a pay phone. My hands were still shaking as I dialed the number.

  On the sixth ring she answered, sleepy and indignant. “Yeah? Do you have any idea what time it is? This had better be an emergency.”

  “Is this Terri?” I asked, “Terri Hamilton?”

  “Yeah, that’s me. Who is this and what the hell do you want from me? Don’t you people ever sleep?”

  “What?”

  “It’s a little late for a telemarketing call, isn’t it?”

  “But this isn’t a telemarketing call, Terri. This is Deirdre Greer.” There was a silence on the other end of the line. “Please,” I said, not realizing at the time the great irony of my next statement, “I need your help.”

  “Oh.” She paused again, then said, “Yes, of course you do. Where are you?”

  I looked up at the signs and gave her the intersection. “Not too far away from me then,” she said, and proceeded to give me directions to her place. “Think you can find me?”

  “Yes. I’ll be there soon.”

  She gave a small, vicious laugh and I wondered for a minute whether calling her was a good idea. But what choice did I have? “You’d better make it soon, sweetie, it’s almost dawn.”

  Chapter 19

  Mitch Greer: New Orleans

  Vivienne’s threats to Angelo paid off. He wasted no time in leading Sam and me directly to Maggie’s house in the quarter. Just like he’d said, it was a pretty little house, for what that was worth. As we drew closer, though, we heard the sounds of hysterical sobbing, adding an eerie touch to an already tense atmosphere.

  Angelo stopped just short of the front walk. From where we stood, we could see Maggie quite clearly, she sat on a glider on the front porch, rocking back and forth, crying and shaking. I nodded to Angelo, and he scurried off down the street. Chris was nowhere to be seen. “Let me talk to her,” I whispered to Sam. “She knows me.”

  Sam nodded and moved back into the shadows of a nearby tree.

  “Maggie?” I called her name softly as I walked toward the house. “It’s me, Mitch. Are you okay?”

  “Go away,” she said, “you don’t want to be here, not with me. I’m more of a monster than any of you ever will be. I killed my children. Didn’t you know that??”

  “But you called me, Maggie. You said you wanted my help. And I know all about your children, Maggie, and it’s okay. Both of your children are alive.”

  “No! They are dead. Eduard saw to that. He took care of everything. And I let him do it. That means their blood is on my hands just as if I’d held the knife myself. I know that and you know that.” She gave a choked laugh. “We all know that.”

  “Where’s Chris, Maggie?” I tried to keep my voice calm and conversational in tone. In the past, I’d handled criminals in this sort of shape, demented, damaged, and totally capable of doing absolutely anything. It had never frightened me before, all part of the job, but this time was different. I didn’t want to lose my son a second time, and she was the only link to him now.

  “Chris?” She repeated the name back to me as if she’d never heard it before.

  “Phoenix?” I asked using the name she’d most often called her child. Maggie recognized that name; her eyes sought my face in the darkness and I stepped forward. “Mitch? You found me, that’s good. I just want you to know right now that I’m sorry, Mitch. I couldn’t help it, couldn’t help any of it. I didn’t want to, I don’t want to. But I had no choice, I had to. He made me.”

  “Who made you, Maggie? And what did you do?”

  “Steven. My son. I murdered him. Didn’t you know?”

  I looked over at Sam and motioned him to move farther away. We weren’t going to get anywhere with her, not while she was so agitated. And Sam was a stranger to her. She didn’t seem as if she’d noticed him yet, but if she saw him, she might be more intimidated. I wanted her relaxed and more likely to talk.

  “Maggie,” I said softly, approaching her more slowly, holding my hands out in clear view so that she would know I wasn’t armed. “I’ve just come to talk to you. No one wants to hurt you.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. Somehow the sound was more unnerving than her crying had been. “Why not? You should want to hurt me. All of you should. And if you don’t want to hurt me now, you certainly will eventually. It’s all I’m good for. Eduard knew that. And so does Steven. Phoenix hasn’t hurt me yet, but I know it will just be a matter of time.”

  “Where’s Phoenix?” I asked the question of her again, a little less gently this time, not liking the turn her mind seemed to be taking.

  “Gone, Phoenix is gone. Before he could hurt me like all the rest of them . . .”

  I moved forward, but Sam stopped me. “Don’t threaten her,” he whispered. “We need to get her away from here. Some place unfamiliar, with nothing around to
remind her of the past. This house probably feeds her insanity, all those unhappy, horrible memories haunting her. You have to try to lure her from the porch and lead her somewhere else. Somewhere we can watch her and keep her safe.”

  I nodded. “Maggie? Why don’t you come with me? We were all friends back in Whitby, weren’t we?”

  She smiled and a flash of her old mesmerizing beauty shone through her madness. “I always did like you, Mitch. You had a way of treating me like I was a person who mattered.”

  “You do matter, Maggie. Why don’t you come with me? It’s a pretty night and it’s just a short walk to Lily’s house from here and we can talk.”

  I extended my arm and she came toward me. Behind me, I felt Sam tense up, but I could tell by the way she was holding herself, erect and proud, that Maggie had recovered some of her composure.

  She took my arm and we walked, talking of the weather and the city and not much else. When I tried to steer the conversation into the direction of recent events, I could feel her tremble. I shot Sam a glance over my shoulder to where he walked a few yards behind us. He held his hand positioned awkwardly in his pocket, so I knew that he was keeping a tranquilizing syringe close, in case it was needed. Though it seemed that the farther Maggie moved away from her house, the saner she became.

  By the time we’d arrived at Lily’s house, she’d progressed to joking and flirting and seemed much like the carefree woman who’d arrived at The Black Rose. It was hard to believe that had only been a short while ago, so much had happened. My whole life had disintegrated in front of my eyes; I’d regained my son, then lost Deirdre and him. And the instrument of this torture, walked dangerously close to me, laughing up at me and being totally charming.

  I shook my head.

  “What is it, Mitch? Did I say something wrong?”

  “Say something wrong? No. But do something wrong?” I pulled away from her so that I could look straight into her face. “Where’s Chris, Maggie? Where’s Deirdre?”

  Her eyes darted back and forth nervously. “Chris? He ran away from me. I think I must’ve been acting pretty crazy. And I don’t need to tell you I don’t really know where Deirdre is, do I? I can tell you, though, that you’ll not see her again. Steven has her.”

  “And just who is Steven? What soul did your bastard husband put into his body?”

  She laughed mirthlessly and I felt a chill. “You know who it is, Mitch, I can read it in your eyes. He almost killed you once but she interfered. She shouldn’t have done that. You should have been a dead man and she should have been his, that’s all he’s ever wanted. Fortunately, Maggie is here, ready to obey orders, and more than willing to rectify those mistakes.”

  Her abrupt switch from friendly to hostile took me completely by surprise, as did the knife she drew from her sleeve.

  “You can’t kill me with that, Maggie. You of all people should know better.”

  Still she lunged at me, her grin reminding me of the Other assailant that first poisoned Deirdre. I drew back and her smile broadened.

  “Yes, you are a clever one, aren’t you? The blade is poisoned, of course. I’ve just been waiting for you to show up, counting on your arrogance to ensure you’d come alone. I’ll take care of the rest of your little group of friends after you’re dead.”

  I grabbed her wrists to keep the knife away. She may have been strong, but I was stronger. And more determined. I only had to hold her still for a moment for Sam to arrive and administer the tranquillizer. Her eyes widened then drooped closed, the knife fell to the ground, and I managed to catch her before she fell on it. Asleep, in my arms, she looked like an angel.

  “Thanks, Sam.”

  He grinned at me. “Quick Draw Samuels,” he blew a puff of air on the tip of the needle, “Yeah, they all call me that.” Then he grew serious. “No problem. I’m glad I was here.”

  I carried Maggie the rest of the way to Lily’s house and Vivienne greeted us at the door. “I see the poor little lamb is asleep again. She is safer that way, no? Did she tell you anything before Sam stepped in?”

  “Yeah, she did. Seems like Chris is alive, although we weren’t all that sure of it at first. He ran away from her and is hiding out somewhere.”

  Viv smiled at me, showing off her dimples. “This is true, mon cher. But first things first. Have you thought where we would stow the sleeping beauty?”

  “I thought Moon’s room would make the perfect guest bedroom,” I said, heading down the hallway with Maggie’s limp body. Vivienne went ahead of me and opened the door to the tank. I entered, not without a shudder for the remembrance of my stay in the same place, lay Maggie down on the small cot, and, after making sure the oxygen supply was turned on, closed and locked the door.

  “Now, what were you saying about Chris?”

  Viv gave a little high-pitched giggle and took my hand. “Come with me to the kitchen, mon chou, and all will become clear.

  More than clear, actually. There, sitting at the kitchen table with Lily and Claude, was Chris, my son, none the worse for wear.

  He stood up when I walked in and came over to give me a quick hug. “Is Mum okay?”

  I nodded and clapped him on the shoulders. “After she sleeps off whatever it was Sam gave her, she’ll be fine. But how did you know where to find us?”

  “I didn’t. I’d gotten away from her finally. You know, I didn’t really want to leave her. I mean she was acting so crazy, and I was afraid she’d hurt herself. But she pulled a knife out of the kitchen drawer and threatened me. ‘You’re already dead, anyway, so doing it again won’t matter. And I will kill you, if you don’t get out of here now.’” His voice trailed off and his eyes grew sad. “I know none of you really understand it but I can’t help myself. I love her, I have to love her. She’s the only mother I remember. And she wasn’t always this way.”

  Vivienne laid a hand on his shoulder. “One must never apologize for loving their mother. We do not judge you, Chris.”

  “Thanks,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “Anyway, I ran and ran and eventually found myself in a huge open cemetery. After all the running, I was tired so I sat on the steps of some mausoleum for a while. Seemed fitting, somehow, since part of me rests in a place like that.” He held his hands up in front of his face, examined them, then shrugged. “It’s funny. I can’t imagine having another body, lying in a grave somewhere, rotting. It’s almost like I feel about Mum, this is the only thing I remember.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I can’t imagine it either.”

  “Anyway,” Chris continued, “there I sat, on those cold, hard steps, trying to think, but trying not to think, you know? I heard this funny wheezing whistling sound and noticed an old man, at least he looked old, but he was walking upright and steady through the graves. He came up to where I sat. ‘You lost, young man?’ he asked.

  “ ‘Not really, just resting.’

  “The man laughed at that. ‘Many folk restin’ here, but you, young man, you must be special. Most of ’em restin’ can’t talk about it.’ Then he moved closer to me, squinted his eyes and sniffed at me, as if he were a dog catching my scent. ‘You got the smell of Other about you, boy. So you must be Chris.’

  “ ‘Yeah, I am. How did you know?’

  “ ‘I know lots of things, boy. And it ain’t your place to wonder why. But I can take you to your father and his friends, if you like. Do it for free, even, since it ’pears this old man owe your papa a debt. I did him a disservice once and returnin’ you will balance that. Ol’ bow-legged ’Lo don’t like staying in anyone’s debt.’ He gave a wheezing laugh, I could almost hear the air rattling around inside his lungs. ‘Besides, I need to stay on the good side of that blond one. So I do it for her too. You be sure to tell her I say this.’

  “ ‘Vivienne?’

  “ ‘Just so, young man. Come along now.’

  “We walked a few blocks and he led me up the steps. ‘Take care o’ your mam and your pap, young one, and all be well. The spirits, why, t
hey like you. They leadin’ you to a good way. And there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.’

  “He slapped me on the back and when I turned back to thank him, he had already disappeared down the street. And that’s it.”

  I shook my head. “I’m glad he found you. But I still can’t figure that man out. Whose side is he on, I wonder?”

  Lily laughed and handed me a glass of scotch and ice. “That’s an easy one, Mitch. ’Lo is on ’Lo’s side, of course. For him there’s no right or wrong, no good or evil. There’s just ’Lo.”

  Chapter 20

  We all sat at the kitchen table with our various drinks. “Tell me what happened,” I said to Chris. “Why did you go with her? You could have waited for me to return.”

  “There’s not that much to tell, really,” he said, “I came with her because I thought someone should take care of her. She seems strong at times, but that’s just an act. She’s always been the most emotionally fragile person I’ve ever known.”

  I made a scoffing noise and he stared over at me. “Yeah, I know what you think, Dad, but before you start on me, all I can say is that, yeah, I know that she tried to kill me twice, but that fact doesn’t really make that much of a difference. Like I just said, she’s my mother and I love her. It really isn’t her fault that she’s the way she is. I blame that on Eduard. And Steven. I thought that if I stayed with her it might make a difference. She said she was leaving you a note.”

  “Yeah, she left me a note. And another dead dog.”

  “Larry?” Chris’s voice cracked just a bit and for a moment he resembled the lost child called Phoenix. “Ah, man.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I didn’t know, honestly. I was waiting out in the cab in front of the pub and she told me to wait there. ‘I need to leave Mitch a message,’ she said, ‘so that when he finds Deirdre he can meet up with us.’ It was a fairly long while before she came back out. I remember thinking that the cab fare was going to be horrendous and I hoped she’d have enough money. And when she got back into the cab, she reached over and patted my cheek. Her hand was slightly damp. ‘Sorry it took me so long,’ she said, laughing. ‘First I had to find a pen and some paper, and then when I was finished with that I decided I’d better make a stop at the loo before we left.’ I had no reason to believe she’d hurt the dog. I’d have stopped her if I’d known.”