by C. L. Quinn
“She doesn’t have a dog in this fight.”
Park stood up and faced her. “I do. I care about what happens to your race. To Bas. To all of you.” Well, most of you…she thought.
Dez laughed raucously. And sent her thoughts to Park.
Well, it seems you do have a backbone after all. I don’t like you because he does, but I can live with that. I don’t like humans except where they’re of use to me. But I say truce until he’s done with you. Deal?
You can read my thoughts, you can send yours. Must be your special skill. Read this. Stay out of my way. I don’t like you either. But don’t mistake that for fear. I do know what makes you die.
Dez laughed even louder. The four men in the room looked confused, back and forth between the women, who stood silently staring at each other. It made it clear to Park…they couldn’t hear Dez and her thoughts. Hmmm.
I won’t. You might not have a dog in this fight, but I see you’ll sink your teeth in anyway. Okay. I’ll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine. By the way, you are one of the very few people I can read. One of the fewer yet who could read me back. What are you?
God, what was it with these vampires? Park turned around, facing them all. “How many times do I have to tell you guys I’m just human?”
The men looked confused, except for Bas, who moved forward and put his hand on her shoulder.
“What do you mean, Park?”
She didn’t feel like explaining. “I’m sorry to disturb your meeting. It’s important, I know. Bas, I’ll talk to you about it later. Just, please continue. Do you mind if I go get something to eat?”
Bas stared at her and then led her to the door, where Eugene was waiting outside.
“Please take her to the kitchen and let her have whatever she wants.”
He nodded and led her away down the wide corridor that was creatively lit to look like daylight.
The kitchen was enormous, like everything else in this house, with two side by side refrigerators and three large freezers against the back wall. Eugene pulled out a tall stool near a high counter that went halfway around the kitchen.
“Have a seat. What are you in the mood for? I can cook anything.”
Park climbed up and let her feet swing off the edge of the stool. “You cook?”
“Mademoiselle, I am an excellent chef. It is one of the reasons they keep me around.”
“What’s your specialty?”
“I have many, but I think I would recommend my omelets over other items, especially for this time of day. They are…” He put his fingers to his lips and kissed them into the air. “…perfection.”
“Then, Eugene, please make me your finest, whatever you want. I can’t wait.”
He smiled. Park watched him as he turned to begin preparations. He really did have the warmest smile. As he worked, she leaned forward on the countertop.
“Eugene. May I ask you. Are you vampire?”
She phrased it like she heard Bas do in the meeting a few minutes earlier.
Eugene was whisking four eggs in a large stainless steel bowl. He continued to whip them as he turned to her.
“No, I am blood-bonded, like you. But not to Mr. Bas. I was bonded to a vampire who is now dead, and was left adrift. That happens when you have been with a vampire for a very long time. I was with Janee for sixty five years. After all that time, when the blood bond is broken, it is hard to go on with a normal human life. But he took me in, and I have been here in his household for six years. I will die here. Hopefully.”
“But…Eugene…you’re not old enough to be…I mean, you’re what, forty or so?”
“I have been alive on this earth for one hundred and seven years. I was thirty six when Janee and I became lovers and she blood-bonded me to her. When a human routinely ingests the blood of a vampire, they do not age. So that makes me about forty two now, in terms of human aging. I have not taken vampire blood for the years I have been with Mr. Bas. I do not want to live now beyond my human years.” His eyes were soft, shining with moisture and loving memories. “My life has been beautiful…I do not need to be greedy.”
He turned to pour the mixture into a large hot pan and added spices and ingredients. The smell was heavenly. Park thought she had never heard a more lovely story.
“So they’re good, the vampires you’ve met? They’re good people?”
“Mademoiselle…”
“Park, please.”
“Merci, bon… Park. Yes, they are good people. And there are bad ones, too. Like everyone and everything. You must be careful and judge with your heart and with your mind. Mr. Bas. This is what you want to know. He is a good man.”
Park sat back, her eyes closed for a moment. She knew that. But it was all so bizarre and so out of her comfort zone…anyone’s comfort zone, that there were supernatural people who were immortal and lived on blood. In her life, miserable as it had been, no one had ever made her feel as good as that man who most people would treat like a monster. This was a new world. And she was ready…really ready, to accept it all.
The omelet was unsurpassable…incredible. She hugged Eugene and asked him to escort her back to her room afterward. He did so after making sure Mr. Bas was okay with it.
She was asleep, a peaceful sleep, curled up and breathing easily. He leaned onto the edge of the bed and watched her. How was she so beautiful? He had three centuries of memories of gorgeous women, vampire and human. And yet no one had made his heart beat like this tiny human with extraordinary abilities. He knew she’d had a horrible childhood, and he knew there was so much more to learn about her past before he could help her forget it. He had to find the bitch who birthed her…he refused to use the word mother when referring to the hideous creature he had seen in the vision of Park’s childhood. He had to find out where she came from to try to find out what she was. He knew one thing for certain…no, two. That she was not fully human…and that he would never let her go. She had to be exhausted after having her world turned on edge the last few day…he’d let her sleep. So he slipped quietly down the hall to his own bedchambers. Daylight was coming.
Zach was frustrated and that did not happen easily. He looked at the police tape across the front of Park’s beautiful house on the beach. He’d waited a while until they finally…finally, left. Dressed carefully in all black with covers on his shoes, he climbed up the back of the house to the balcony door, exactly as the detectives had explained someone had gained access to her house two days earlier. It wasn’t hard, given the pergola and trellises adjacent to the wall on the back of the house. He’d gloved up, because he knew so far, they had no real evidence to pin it on him. He certainly didn’t intend to give them any. But he had to see the scene of the abduction.
The theory seemed to go that he’d followed her home from the restaurant, pissed because she hadn’t been interested, forced his way in by climbing the balcony. Muddy prints had been found all over the back yard and on the light peach colored carpet that ran through the house. Unfortunately, whoever left the tracks had shoes that had a sole that matched the ones he’d worn and were the same size. The place was lit by a series of solar lights tucked in with flowers on the balcony. Okay, he admitted it looked like something had happened there. The bed was in disarray, the sheet pulled halfway onto the floor as if it had been dragged. The footprints led from the balcony through the bedroom and into the living room. A broken crystal vase lay on the floor, the pieces marked by a forensic team that had been there. Her closet doors were ajar, but there was no discernible evidence she’d taken anything with her. Otherwise, there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary.
He wandered over to where he noticed a deep teal satin that looked like the dress she’d worn the night of their date. The gown that she’d worn that night…balled up in a chair, almost completely covered by a pillow. It looked like a small piece of fabric, so the forensic team overlooked it, but he recognized it and tugged it out. Badly wrinkled, he brought it over to a light in the corne
r and switched it on. What were those dark stains around the straps and the halter? Was that…blood…?
Blood? Oh, hell, no. He’d expected, all along, that there had just been some big confusion…that she’d gone on vacation or something. That she’d left an email or text or phone message that someone just hadn’t gotten. He really expected that in the end, she’d been okay all along. But this…this proved that something had really happened to her…something bad. Blood on that beautiful gown she’d worn for their date, oh god. What had happened to her? He knew now, he’d move heaven and earth to find her.
Zach balled the gown up and shoved it into an inside pocket in his jacket. Although it barely fit, bunching out and causing his jacket to stick out, it would do enough to get it back to his car without any unexpected witness knowing he took something from the house. Now he sharpened his focus…what else might give him a clue. Obviously, since the gown was here, she’d made it home. He must have forced her to bring him here. So…ah, her shoes, the ones she’d worn that night. Where were they? Sexy slides, high heeled, high end designer…he knew that only because his last girlfriend had a shoe fetish and preferred the ridiculously priced ones that were famous for the red soles. That’s what they were. It only took a moment to find them carelessly discarded in the closet. For shoes he knew must be in the range of hundreds if not thousands of dollars, they were just thrown in, tossed upside down, like old house slippers. He pulled them out. Hmm. Well that was something. The tops were badly scarred, like they had been scraped against something, tearing the delicate satin. A small row of rhinestones, crystals, hell, for all he knew, diamonds…formed a chain around the top, scoring the area where they would highlight the toes. Several were missing. Something had happened to the shoes that night. He knew absolutely she would never have worn shoes in that condition on a date. He had to take them too.
As he was leaving, his eyes landed on a small table with several photos displayed in pretty silver frames. One of them of Park and her receptionist, Zach’s accuser. He didn’t blame her, it did look bad for him. Park looked so happy. He took the photo, frame and all, and forced it in the other side of his jacket.
So, with a satin dress and designer heels tucked in his jacket and up under his arms, Zach hurried to his car in the darkness hoping he wasn’t seen by anyone too bored to be minding their own business, and end up back in city lockup with tonight’s collection of repeat offenders.
As he started the car, he punched his hands free mobile phone.
His secretary answered lazily, probably asleep before he called.
“Sorry, Margaret. I just need to inform you I’ll be out of the office for a few days. I’ll keep you apprised, but will you rearrange my appointments first thing tomorrow and split them with those two new guys my grandfather hired? I know, I know, short notice, but something’s come up I can’t get out of. No, I’m not back in jail again. Thanks, Margaret. I’ll check back in.” He rung off to let her return to sleep. He had to get moving just in case anyone saw him leave the house. He made a second call, left a message when no one picked up and hit the highway.
144
Chapter Eight
It was close to morning when he pulled up next to a shabby looking classic corvette. It had seen better days, even before it’s present owner had bought it ten years ago. Zach knew his buddy would eventually get to the restoration. It just took Dwayne a while to finish…well, anything. That was because he was always so distracted. Dwayne was the smartest man Zach had ever known…he knew a lot about a lot of things. And was currently finishing his third doctorate.
And he was never up early. This was going to be harsh. Zach began knocking on the door of Dwayne’s poor-man’s Painted Lady, a row house located in San Francisco, not on the best street. Several minutes later, with a strong urge to find a big rock, Zach finally heard the door locks click, one at a time, and a head appeared that looked like it had been on the receiving end of a strong electrical shock. It didn’t appear that even one hair on Dwayne’s head went the same direction as any other one. His eyes appeared to be glued shut until the right one split open.
“What the hell? Zach Barkley? What the hell are you doing here at the crack of dawn?
“Hey, buddy. Dawn hasn’t quite cracked yet. I’m here to crack your brain, though. I guess you didn’t get my message from late last night. I need help, buddy. I’m in a spot and there’s a damsel to be saved. You up for being a hero?”
The groan was long and deep. But he pushed back and let Zach enter the darkened, airless interior of the house. The air almost felt like syrup. Didn’t smell that good, though.
“Damn, when’s the last time you let some atmosphere in here? And some stank out?”
“Do I come into your house and complain about the…anything?”
“Dude, you’ve never been to my house. You always say you’re too busy fixing the world to visit the rich and famous. Well, I’ve come to you.”
Dwayne disappeared down a hallway and Zach followed him into the back of the house…and into a surprisingly bright kitchen dressed in ancient yellow wallpaper that was still cheery. Pushing a few buttons, Dwayne turned to his old college friend.
“Coffee in ten. So, what do you need your out of town genius for?”
“A woman is missing. A woman I just happened to have had a blind date with the night before she disappeared.”
Dwayne’s eyes opened wider. “Dude. That is not good. They arrest you yet?”
“No. Detained me. Couldn’t charge me with anything, they have no real evidence. They don’t even have any evidence of foul play.” He pulled a small duffle bag up and put it on the table. “But I do. I need you to analyze this for me.”
Dwayne rubbed his hand hard against his face, smashing his uneven features. Zach never thought his friend was bad looking, but in all their four years together, he’d never been able to get a second date for his friend.
Dwayne pulled the duffle toward him. “What’s in here?”
Zach hesitated. “Her clothes she wore on our date that night.”
“What!? Zach, what are you doing with the clothes a missing woman was last seen in before her disappearance?”
“Hear me out. Okay, the date went badly. She has some issues or something. We ended it early, she left. I thought I saw her get into her car, and then I went home. Next thing I know the following night, a detective shows up and I end up in jail overnite. She’s still missing, they’ve checked her house, but found nothing concrete. And so I feel guilty because maybe I should have noticed if someone abducted her after our date, so I go check out her house. The cops didn’t know what she was wearing that night, and I found it balled up and tucked behind a pillow. With blood on it. Then find the shoes she had on. And they are scuffed to holy hell. Something definitely happened to her, and you know me, I won’t rest until I know and try to help her. I need you to help me help her. That’s the story.”
Her blood was boiling. She needed to tear her eyes out; they felt like they were melting in the sockets, and dripping into her brain. But they had her chained and she couldn’t reach them. Intense fury and pain drove her, wracked her as she tried to rip her hands off to free herself from them so she could stab herself in the heart and end the pain. Or kill something just because it was unbearable. There was a window across the room and although it was shuttered, she could use the broken glass to slit her wrists. Or the face of that blonde giant that was her jailer. Fuck, she’d like to slash his pretty face that smiled knowingly at her from across the room.
“Yeah, you’d better stay out of my reach, you motherfucker!!” she had just yelled at him a few moments ago, and he’d left with a grin and a fucking Oreo cookie. It struck her briefly in the furthest corner of her mind, somewhere deep she couldn’t really access any more, that it wasn’t like her to be that rude. And she really would like a cookie, too. But then the hot burn would come back and she became something else, something different than anything she knew. In moments of lucidity, she re
membered…something…someone sweet…it would be alright…she would live. But then the hot flames would swell inside her body, like every cell was set on fire, and she wouldn’t know the creature she became. That creature was loud, angry and vicious. And a real bitch.
The blonde grinning motherfucker showed back up, seated himself on a concrete bench on the far wall away from her. Fuck! He had a whole bag of double stuf Oreos! It struck her that she was ravenous.
“Hey blondie, think you could share a fucking cookie!?” she called out, jerking against the chains to their farthest limit, still several feet from him. She realized she was spitting too, but couldn’t stop it.
He just grinned and killed another cookie. “Sorry, love, your body cannot digest food right now. It’s kind of busy digesting itself. Your meal is on the way.”
The other motherfucker. The dark haired devil. Deep in that lost recess she thought she liked him, but now he was the unholy demon that ripped his own flesh and fed her that foul blood that tasted like death and heaven. Still…
“Come on…you can’t spare one motherfucking cookie!”
“Yes, I can. But I’m not wasting it. It’ll come right back out as soon as you try it. And it won’t taste good to you. Soon. I know…”
She let loose with every four letter word and epithet she could recall from her years as a waitress and being raised by six drug dealing brothers and an alcoholic father. Vaz noted that her favorite seemed to be cocksucker, because it came in as every other word. What a mouth on that girl. He understood. He’d been through it himself a few hundred years ago, but he remembered every moment. So would she.
The triple reinforced door shrieked open and Bas came in. Vaz thought he looked awful, as exhausted as he’d ever seen him. Siring a new vamp wasn’t easy. Then there was the whole new war with an unknown enemy. Vaz trusted Bas more than anyone he’d ever met, and didn’t doubt that in the end, they would be the victors.
