Hunger

by Karen E. Taylor

  “Are you totally sure about that, Deirdre? He’s a lot closer to understanding than you think. And he loves you anyway. How could I stand in the way of a relationship like that?”

  I laughed softly. “It never stopped you before. So, am I to believe that you are here only to wish us well?”

  “Believe what you like.” Max leaned over and gave me an icy kiss. “Maybe I came to give away the bride.”

  “Deirdre,” Mitch called from within the room, “the judge is ready.”

  I moved into the doorway. “I’ll be right in,” I answered, but when I turned back, Max was gone. “Damn,” I swore softly, and ran my fingers over my lips, still cold from his touch.

  The ceremony went smoothly. Sam must have done a good job faking my blood test, since apparently the paperwork was in order. Although tempted, I did not run screaming from the room, and if Max was present, he at least had the good grace to stay quiet and out of my line of sight. Twice during the short time we were there though, the door had opened. The first person to enter was Chris, the second, a woman who seemed familiar, but at the time I could not quite place her and did not want to stare. I had held my breath expecting one or the other of them to interrupt at the appropriate time, but nothing had happened.

  “. . . I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the judge intoned, and Mitch pulled me to him for a kiss passionate and long enough to make everyone in the room slightly uncomfortable. And then it was over.

  Chris walked up to us, shook Mitch’s hand, and hesitantly kissed me on the cheek. After the introductions were made, I looked around for the woman who had accompanied him, but she must have left at some time during the ceremony. And there was no time for questioning him; Betsy hustled us into the limousines she had rented. On the way I found out, to my dismay, that she had arranged to hold the wedding dinner at The Imperial. When we arrived, the driver came around and opened our door.

  “Well, Mrs. Greer,” Mitch said, smiling at me tentatively, “shall we go in?”

  I touched him softly on the shoulder. “Mitch, did dinner have to be here? After my last run-in with Victor, I doubt that I’ll be welcome.”

  “Just a minute.” Mitch motioned to the driver and closed the door. “I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but Betsy made all the arrangements. I called after she told me and found out that Victor won’t be in tonight. He’s out on important business. So you should be safe.”

  “I’m not really hungry. And I can’t eat anything they serve in there anyway.”

  “I know.” Mitch reached over and patted my cheek. “But I’m starved. And the wedding dinner is almost as important as the ceremony itself. What else did you want to do?”

  “Well, I thought we could just head on out to the airport; we could go anywhere you like.”

  “After dinner, Deirdre. Betsy was so excited to set this up, and I’d hate to hurt her feelings. She’s been a real help to me. Besides, this’ll give us a chance to work things out with Chris.”

  “Oh. I almost forgot about Chris.” I sat quietly for a minute, then leaned over and kissed Mitch on the cheek. “Fine, we’ll go in, but right afterward we’re going to pack some things and get out of this damn city for a while.”

  “Great. Now, don’t you think we should go in? They’ll wonder what we’re doing.”

  “Let them wonder.” I took his hand and gently stroked his palm with my thumb, then held it up to my lips. “Mitch, this may sound crazy, but did you happen to see Max tonight?”

  “See him, no, but I knew he was around.”

  “How?”

  “For one thing, by the way you acted. You get this distant look in your eyes, this distracted expression when you say he’s present. Now I know what that means, and when it happened tonight, I tried to pay attention. I thought I could actually feel him there, and I could almost hear something, far away and indistinct.” He smiled at me. “Don’t worry about it, Deirdre. It’s a little spooky, but I’ll get used to it.” Mitch reached for the door handle, then pulled away. “So, what did he want anyway?”

  “To give the bride away.”

  To my surprise, Mitch threw his head back and laughed. “That’s what you get for putting ‘Father’ on his gravestone. Come on, let’s go in.”

  We caught up with the other three in the lobby. Betsy was talking to the maître d’; Chris and Sam were carrying on a whispered discussion in the corner. They looked up guiltily when we walked in, and I knew they had been talking about us. But since Chris seemed more at ease, and smiled more freely at Mitch and me, I didn’t really mind. If Sam could help him deal with this situation, it would make our lives a lot easier.

  Our table was ready and Betsy claimed Mitch’s arm and followed the waiter. I touched Chris gently on the arm; he barely suppressed a shudder, but Sam nodded at him encouragingly. “Everything will work out all right, Chris.” I smiled at him. “I promise.” He gulped slightly, tucked my hand around his arm, and escorted me to dinner.

  “Deirdre, I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. Dad asked me to be best man, but I just couldn’t. He was really angry, read me the riot act on the phone.”

  “But you finally did come,” I reassured him, “and that’s what matters.”

  Chris slowed down and looked doubtfully at the back of Mitch’s head. “I hope so. He can be real stubborn sometimes.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said with a small laugh. “Why do you think this happened at all? For all that I love your father, and I do love him, I was not entirely convinced that this marriage was a good idea. But, Chris, it was what he wanted. He’s been alone so long.” As have I, I added silently, but he seemed to understand.

  “I know this’ll be good for you both. It’s just that you’re a”—he had the grace to blush slightly—“well, what you are, and that’ll take some getting used to.”

  “Fine, we have a lot of time. But keep it to yourself tonight, kiddo. Betsy doesn’t know and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “And what doesn’t Betsy know?” She bounded over to us, her eyes gleaming almost maliciously, acquisitively. “More secrets?”

  I sat down next to Mitch and held his hand. “Only that I married the best man in the city.”

  “Oh, that,” she said disparagingly. “I knew that. But you’ve got only one, Deirdre”—she settled Sam in on one side of her and Chris on the other—“and now I have two.”

  Chris looked embarrassed, but Sam laughed. The waiter brought and poured the champagne. I wanted to ask about the woman who had entered the courtroom and then quickly departed, but I hated to spoil what was left of the evening with an interrogation of Chris. Betsy had no such compunctions.

  “So tell me, Christopher, who came in after you tonight? And why didn’t she come along? One more person wouldn’t have been a problem, would it have, Deirdre?”

  “No, absolutely not.” I glanced at Mitch, who suddenly seemed nervous.

  “It was Jean,” Sam interjected.

  Mitch nodded and said nothing, but glared at Chris.

  “Good God, so it was,” I blurted out with a funny choked laugh. “I must have been really nervous not to recognize her. But who the hell invited her? She was the last person I expected to see.” I looked at Sam. “Do you think she listens in on your phone calls?”

  “No, she was off duty this afternoon; she works only nights. And I know I didn’t mention it to her.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Mitch shrugged. “I haven’t seen her since I checked out. And anyway, what possible difference can it make?”

  “Who is Jean?” Betsy asked, sounding slightly annoyed at being left out of the conversation.

  “A nurse at the hospital where I work,” Sam said. “And like Mitch said, it’s not really important, just curious that she should have shown up like that.”

  Chris cleared his throat. “I stopped by there this evening, looking for you, Dr. Samuels. I couldn’t find you, but Jean was there and I asked if you were going to the wedding. Nobody told me not to say any
thing. And when she asked herself along, well, what could I do? She stayed until it was over, then slipped away before I noticed she’d gone.”

  Nobody said anything, and he continued in her defense. “She took good care of you, Dad, better than any other nurse there, and if she wanted to see you married, I can’t see what harm it’d do.”

  “No harm, Chris.” I reached across the table and touched his arm. “We just wondered how she knew. I think it was sweet of you to bring her along. Now, let’s just drop the subject, shall we? How about some more champagne?”

  By the time everyone’s glass was refilled, dinner arrived and the conversation turned to other matters. I sat quietly through the meal, picking at my rare prime rib, trying to ignore the waves of nausea caused by the varied aromas of the food around me. When the waiter finally cleared the plates and provided coffee, I sighed in relief.

  Mitch caught the hint, paid the bill, and got up from the table. “Thank you for your help today, Betsy and Sam. It was wonderful. But we have some packing to do before we leave on our honeymoon.”

  “Honeymoon?” Betsy asked blearily, the champagne having taken its toll on her. “I didn’t know you were going away.”

  “Oh.” I stood up and rubbed my head against Mitch’s sleeve. “We just decided on the way over here.”

  “Where are you going?” Sam smiled up at us over his coffee.

  “Ah, we don’t actually know yet, do we, honey?” Mitch kissed the top of my head. “But we’re heading straight out to the airport. We’ll send you a postcard.”

  I walked around the table and gave them all a hug. Mitch shook Sam’s hand, kissed Betsy, and clapped Chris on the shoulder. “See you later,” he called, and we left the restaurant.

  The limos were nowhere in sight, so we flagged a cab and when one finally stopped, we snuggled in the backseat.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Mitch asked me as we arrived at his apartment.

  “No, it was a lot of fun, actually.”

  “You see, you should’ve married me two years ago.”

  “Yes, I guess so. Mitch, we have some things we still need to work out.”

  “I know, but it can wait, can’t it? Let’s enjoy the next few weeks before we get back to the harsh realities. And speaking of enjoying, we don’t need to rush right off to the airport, do we?” His one hand tightened on my shoulder while the other played with the lace on the hem of my dress.

  “No.” I turned to face him. “We have a little time.”

  “Good.” He kissed me, his lips crushing mine, his hand delicately moving up my thigh.

  “Actually,” I said breathlessly when he removed his mouth, “tomorrow night would be soon enough to leave.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” The rawness of passion in his voice made me gasp, and like the night in the hospital made me forget where we were. Had it been a longer drive to his apartment, we would have made love right there in the cab.

  As it was, the driver coughed and discreetly announced our arrival. When Mitch paid him, we ran up the steps of his apartment clutching each other and giggling like teenagers. He unlocked the door and picked me up to carry me in.

  My head was nestled into his neck, so when he dropped me abruptly, I was taken completely by surprise by the three men, Victor Lange, Ron Wilkes, my attorney, and Fred, the Ballroom’s bartender, standing in Mitch’s living room. More surprising still was the fact that both Ron and Fred held rather large handguns, aimed directly at us.

  Chapter 24

  “Close the door, Greer,” Victor ordered. Mitch slumped for a minute, then did as he was told. He leaned up against the door; his eyes were glassy and his breathing came in short, panicked gasps.

  “Mitch.” I took him by the shoulders and called his name but he didn’t hear me; he was absorbed in studying the faces of the men.

  “What the hell is this all about, Victor?” I turned around and faced the three of them, attempting to block Mitch’s body from their guns. “Are you planning to shoot me? Well”—I bared my teeth unpleasantly—“you had better give it your best shot the first time. It will be the only chance you get.”

  “Now, Deirdre,” Victor said calmly, “we don’t want to hurt anybody. And of course, if we did, it would be Mitch we would shoot. So if you’ll just move away from him slowly, everything will be fine. We can talk this out like reasonable beings.”

  “Reasonable beings do not break into people’s apartments and threaten the inhabitants with guns. What is this all about? And what have you done to Mitch?”

  “Nothing. I assume he’s having a little flashback from his recent mental problems. It will pass.” Victor motioned to the couch. “Come here and sit down, my dear. Ron and Fred will take good care of Mitch.”

  I looked steadily into the faces of the two men. Fred met my glance defiantly; Ron lowered his eyes, but not before I caught a glimpse of sadness. “You I can understand, Fred, you’ve always been a self-serving little bastard.” He said nothing, but continued to smirk, so I turned to Ron. “But what are you doing here, Ron? I thought we were friends.”

  Victor laughed and beckoned me to the couch again. “As you so succinctly put to me not that long ago, ‘Never count on constancy in love or friendship among vampires.’ ” His emphasis on the last word caused me to draw in a sharp breath that he ignored. “Ron and Fred both work for me.”

  “All three of you are vampires?” I dropped onto the couch with a small, humorless laugh.

  “Just so, Deirdre.”

  Mitch made a small choking sound and slumped down onto the floor, his back resting against the door, his eyes still focused on the faces of the men.

  “Ease up on him a little, boys. We don’t want him passing out, do we? I think Deirdre will cooperate with us.”

  Some of the fear left Mitch’s face and his breathing deepened a little. He managed a weak smile that wrenched my heart.

  “Mitch,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry. But I always said you were better off without me.”

  “Be that as it may,” Victor continued, “he’s now involved in this situation if only by association. And speaking of which, I understand congratulations are in order.”

  “Congratulations?”

  “On your marriage.” Victor’s voice sounded amused.

  Fred snickered, calling my attention to the two of them where they stood, their guns no longer pointed at Mitch, but still very much in evidence. Ron gave me one brief, angry glance, and his shoulders tightened. When he did speak, his tone was flat and bitter. “You don’t date the meat.”

  “Excuse me?” But Ron made no response, so I turned again to Victor. “And how did you know we were married?”

  “You’ll discover that very few of your activities are unknown to me. I make it my business to know these things. And there is one member of our group to whom you have not yet been properly introduced. She’s a little insecure, being only newly one of us, and I wanted her out of the way if there was trouble. But you’ll be reasonable, I know.” Victor smiled, not maliciously, I thought, but as if he were enjoying a joke. “And you may find out that you share many things in common; one might even say you were from the same family. Come out, Jean.”

  Jean stepped out of the hallway, where she had been concealed from us. One look at her pinched face and white uniform and I began to laugh, sounding a little hysterical. “Jesus, Victor, this is entirely too much. Is everyone I meet in this damned city a vampire? How many of you are there?”

  “Don’t you mean how many of us?” He did not wait for my answer. “We’ll let that go for now. I completely understand that your ignorance of our existence was Max’s doing. Ill-advised, as I said before, but Max did what he liked. And you were his responsibility.”

  “I take care of myself, Victor. I always have.”

  “And that is an admirable sentiment, my dear, one which we all admire in you. To answer your questions, there are approximately one hundred of us in the metropolitan area and no, not everyo
ne you meet is a vampire. But of course Ron and Jean were planted, carefully cultivated for their roles. Granted, Fred had been with Max practically since the Ballroom opened. But Ron was engaged to keep tabs on you when you returned and Jean was put into the hospital to monitor our punishment of Mitch.” He looked away from me. “I must apologize for that, Greer. We had thought you had killed Max. We’ll make what amends we can.”

  “Can you give him back the two years he lost in the institution? Can you give him back an unaltered mind?” A surge of anger flowed through me; these people were worse than Max—he at least had a personal interest in my life. And his manipulations were understandable from that point of view.

  “No,” Victor said gently. “But I can allow him to live, under certain circumstances, of course.”

  Jean gave a small gasp, then cleared her throat nervously. “Mr. Lange,” she said hesitantly, “do you need me anymore? I have to be back at the hospital soon.”

  “No, thank you, Jean. That will be all.”

  She went to the door and gave Victor a sidelong glance. He nodded slightly and she looked down at Mitch. “I’m sorry, Mitch,” she said, and slipped past him.

  Her subservient attitude annoyed me. “This is quite a nice setup you have, Victor. Do all the vampires here serve you so willingly, or is this group your private little army?”

  “No, Deirdre, you misunderstand the situation. They do not serve me so much as they serve The Cadre. But since I am the head of that venerable institution, I do command a certain amount of respect.”

  “The Cadre? That’s the organization that inherits Max’s money if I turn it down, isn’t it? Is that what all this is about? Money? You can have it all; I’ve never wanted any of it.”

  “I wish it were that simple, Deirdre. The money is not the issue here. The murder of Max Hunter is. The other night you admitted to that crime; do you want to change your statement?”

  I have him a short, vicious smile. “Would it do any good?”

  “No, my dear. Eiither way you must appear before the judicial board of The Cadre. We have no choice.” Victor checked his watch. “And we must go soon; they’re waiting for us.”