Hunger

by Karen E. Taylor

  “And if I refuse?”

  Fred turned around, displaying a delighted grin and brandishing his gun. “Then we shoot Greer.”

  I had no doubt that he would do as he said. I stood up and smoothed the skirt of that ridiculous wedding gown. “Well, then, I can hardly refuse such a polite invitation. Shall we?”

  Mitch struggled to his feet. “She’s not going anywhere without me.”

  Fred laughed unpleasantly. “Of course, you get to come too, you’re our insurance that Miss Griffin, or shall I say, Mrs. Greer, doesn’t bolt.”

  I gave him a cold stare. “You don’t need insurance, Fred. I will not bolt, as you so cleverly put it. Mitch stays here.”

  Fred shifted uneasily under my gaze and looked at Victor for confirmation.

  “I trust you, Deirdre,” Victor said with a frown, “but I’m afraid Fred is right, even if overly anxious on the trigger. Mitch will accompany us, but you have my word that he won’t be harmed and that you’ll both be returned here before dawn. This is merely a preliminary hearing. Certain allowances have been made for you, since you are what we call a rogue, and are unschooled in our ways. You’ll be given every chance to prepare for the trial, and although you will be under surveillance, you’ll still have a chance to spend a few weeks together before the final decision.” Victor gently took my arm and moved me toward the door. As he opened it, he looked deep into my eyes, his eyes a curious mix of anger and sympathy. “That is the most I can promise you.”

  Once again Mitch and I were loaded into the backseat of a limousine, and once again our destination was The Imperial. But this time we entered through the back and rode an elevator down two floors.

  Victor reached out and pushed a button on the control panel. The elevator stopped but the doors did not open. Then he turned to Mitch. “Mitchell Greer, you have been brought to a place where few humans have ever been; fewer still have left alive.” His tone was formal, rehearsed. “You are here for several reasons. One, you must be cleared before the panel for the murder of Max Hunter so that others do not attempt your punishment on their own. Two, you have married one of us”—Victor glanced over at me, his eyes sparkling—“even though she will not admit that kinship. The Cadre is an ancient institution and has much respect for traditions and sacred vows. So you have been given leave to attend unharmed. But”—his voice deepened, darkened—“you must not interfere in any way. Your assistance or defense of Deirdre under any circumstances can only harm her and will not be tolerated.”

  “I understand.” Mitch’s voice matched Victor’s solemn manner, but I noticed the dangerous glint in his eyes. “You’ve been more than fair, I suppose, given the situation. But you’ve also got to understand that I’ll do my damnedest to keep you, or any of your thugs, from hurting her. Quite honestly, Victor, without her, my life is worthless. And I’d happily give it for the chance to take a few of you with me.”

  They stood appraising each other for what seemed a long time. Finally, Victor smiled and held out his hand. “You have my word,” he said as they shook hands.

  “Deirdre will not be killed, and you won’t be required to fight us for her.” He took his finger from the button and the doors opened. “Despite what you might think, we’re really quite civilized.”

  We entered a large meeting room, thickly carpeted and illuminated only by candles and torches. At the end of this room a long table stood, occupied by eight people, four on each side of the two vacant chairs in the center. On the wall behind the table, a large tapestry was hung depicting a dark night sky over a medieval-looking city. Ten small golden plates, each about six inches in diameter, resembling family crests, hung from chains on either side of the tapestry.

  Victor stepped forward, motioning Fred and Mitch into chairs along the wall, and Ron moved up beside me to take Victor’s place. Slowly, ceremoniously, Victor walked down the center aisle and the people seated at the table rose and bowed to him as he approached. Their eyes shone oddly in the light; none of them looked familiar to me. Victor nodded his head and walked around the table, removing two of the crests from the wall. One, he hung around his neck; the other was draped over the center of the table. He raised his hand and the others sat while he remained standing.

  “Deirdre Griffin”—his voice was soft but powerful and the echoes filled the room—“born Dorothy Grey, remade in the house of Alveros in the common year of 1860, come forward.”

  Ron gave me a soft push in the small of my back. Trying to match the pace Victor had set, I approached the table, my hands at my sides. As I walked I kept my eyes on the center crest, recognizing it with surprise as one I had seen in my dreams of Max. Damn you, Max, I thought, searching for his presence and finding nothing, why the hell did you get me involved in this?

  When I got within one foot of the table, Victor gave a slight nod of his head and I stopped. He raised his hand again. “Deirdre Griffin is brought before us on charges of murder. Do any of The Cadre wish to speak for her?”

  I opened my mouth to explain that I would speak for myself, but caught the almost imperceptible shake of Victor’s head and heard the footsteps behind me.

  “I ask to speak for her.” Ron stepped up beside me and gave me a small smile. There was shock and surprise on the faces of some of the panel, including Victor’s, but when he lowered his arm, he looked strangely pleased.

  “Ron Wilkes, your request is granted. This woman stands before us accused of the murder of the founder of the house of Alveros. How will she answer?”

  “She cannot answer at this time. As the distinguished houses know, she is a rogue, unused to our ways. I ask that she be given two weeks in which to prepare her answer.”

  Given Victor’s promise to me at Mitch’s apartment, this defense did not surprise me. The panel members nodded and Victor raised his hand again. “Deirdre, you have been given that for which you have asked. Mitchell Greer, human, and husband of this vampire, come forward.”

  Ron pulled me gently to one side and back a few steps as Mitch approached. He stood facing the panel, and I admired the determined way he held his shoulders and head.

  “Let it be known among The Cadre that this human, who had previously, by certain evidences and by his own admission, been judged guilty of the murder of Max Hunter, is at this moment exonerated, and is to be held exempt from further punitive actions on our part, until such time as his true involvement in the crime can be ascertained.”

  “It has been witnessed,” a female member seated to Victor’s right agreed, “and it will be communicated.”

  “Then,” Victor said, “we are adjourned.”

  The formality of the panel instantly dissolved at his words and everyone became more relaxed. Victor walked over to me and smiled. “See, I told you we were civilized. Now, can I offer you a drink?”

  Mitch shook his head and put his arm around my shoulders. “No, but we’ll take a ride home.”

  “Fine,” Victor agreed. “I’m afraid we have rather interrupted your wedding night. Ron will call you tomorrow evening and begin your education, Deirdre. Until then, you can pretty much do what you want. You can move about the city freely and continue your activities but”—his eyes grew stern—“stay away from the airport. Any attempts to leave town will result in your incarceration until the trial. I don’t want it to come to that.” He took my hand and kissed it. “Good night, Deirdre.” Releasing me, he nodded. “Mitch.”

  We followed Victor to the back of the room, and when we reached the elevator, Fred stepped in behind us, his gun still in his hand. “Fred,” Victor said, the disgust evident in his voice, “your obvious delight in tormenting your fellow beings is sickening. Put your toy away. And drive Mr. and Mrs. Greer home.”

  Chapter 25

  Fred remained subdued by Victor’s reprimand only until we stopped at a traffic light a few blocks away from Mitch’s apartment. “Good hearing, huh?” He turned around in the driver’s seat and smiled at us maliciously. “You’re pretty quiet, Deirdre. Don’t
you have any questions to ask?”

  I gave him a long, cold stare. “You want questions? Fine. Just where do you fit in, Fred?”

  “Oh,” he said, returning to his driving, “same as you—house of Alveros. Common year 1922. There aren’t many of us left from that house.” He gave a cruel laugh. “And in two weeks time there might be one less. Although”—he met my eyes in the rearview mirror—“Victor seems to like you. Maybe he’ll let you live, provided, of course, you give him the proper encouragement. Play your cards right and he might even let you establish the house of Grey someday. Compared to most of Max’s children, you’re positively ancient. Me, I like my women younger, less experienced, if you know what I mean.”

  I felt Mitch tense up next to me, and putting a calming hand on his arm, I warned him with my eyes to keep his temper. I knew that Fred was merely baiting us, hoping to provoke an angry response. And I wondered how much of his self-confidence came from the weapon he carried and how much was inner strength. He was younger than I; perhaps he was weaker, perhaps he could be bent to my control. I glanced at Mitch out of the corner of my eye and shook my head almost imperceptively. He understood, and gave my knee a gentle squeeze.

  I took a deep breath and leaned forward in my seat with a feigned eagerness. “So, Fred,” I said, touching him softly on the shoulder, “you are one of Max’s children. I suppose that makes us related: cousins, perhaps, or maybe even siblings.” I lowered my voice to a sultry whisper and ran a finger along his cheek and jaw. “You must tell me,” I breathed, “what exactly are The Cadre’s rules on incest?”

  He tensed at my touch, clenching his teeth together, but encouraged by the jump of his pulse, I continued.

  “There is a lot to be said for experience, Fred. I may be over sixty years your elder, but those were sixty years spent in experimentation, pushing the natural limits. You might be pleasantly surprised at the kind of things I could teach you.”

  “Quit playing games with me, Deirdre.” Fred’s voice was curt, but his breathing quickened.

  “It is no game,” I whispered to him, gently nuzzling the side of his neck. I saw that we were back at Mitch’s apartment. “Stop the car, Fred.”

  He pulled over to the curb and turned off the engine. “That’s right,” I encouraged. “Why don’t we let Mitch go in first? We don’t need him here right now, do we?”

  “Get out, Greer.”

  I nodded and Mitch left the car. I waited until he was up the stairs and in the door before I made my next request. “And now, Fred, you can give me your gun. We won’t be needing it, not now. I can give it back to you later on, after we have completed our business.”

  I felt his hesitation. “Please, Fred,” I breathed in his ear, “give me the gun. You don’t need it, not for me.”

  Quickly, he vaulted over the seat, landing next to me; his hands flew up to grip my shoulders. I met his eyes. “The gun, Fred. Give me the gun.”

  He reached into his pocket and produced the gun, handing it to me with a guttural moan. I put it into my purse and reached over to him, holding his face in my hands. “Thank you, Fred.” My eyes bore into his, until I felt that I was deep inside his mind. “It’s too bad that you lost your gun on the way over here. That was very careless of you. Now, open the door and let me out of the car.”

  Fred shuddered slightly at my intrusion but obediently opened the door for me. I smiled and, bending over, kissed his cheek lightly. “Thank you, Fred,” I said again. “I will see you soon.”

  “Good night,” I heard him call, his voice faint and confused.

  Laughing at my success, I ran up the stairs, opened the door, and bumped into Mitch, who had apparently been standing at the entrance, watching. “What the hell was all that about, Deirdre?”

  I looked behind me and saw Fred pull the car into traffic and drive away. “I merely wanted to see if he was controllable.”

  “And?” There was a slight tick in his cheek, as if he were trying not to smile.

  I reached into my purse and, with a grin, produced Fred’s gun, dangling it back and forth on my finger. “Like candy from a baby.” I took his arm and rubbed my head against his sleeve. “Let’s go inside, love. I think we’ll be safe from Fred for a while.”

  Mitch unlocked the door and we both sighed in relief when we saw that his apartment was empty. “You know, Deirdre,” Mitch started to say, removing his suit coat and tie, “I still don’t understand why you felt you had to play that little scene with Fred.”

  I slid out of my heels and sat in the armchair, stretching my legs out in front of me and flexing my feet. “I had to know what sort of power I possess. It was not important before, because I never had to deal with beings like myself. But now . . .” Shrugging, I curled my legs underneath me and settled back. “It’s important to know what I can do.”

  “And if it hadn’t worked? If you hadn’t been able to control Fred, what do you think would have happened?” Mitch came over and sat on the arm of the chair. Although he put his arm around me tenderly, I could feel the tension in his body and sense the anger he was keeping tightly in check.

  Attempting to lighten his mood and diffuse his anger, I joked. “At the very least, I would have had to hire another manager at the Ballroom.” Reaching up, I stroked his cheek and ran my fingers over his lips. “And at the most, there would have been one less member of the house of Alveros for us to contend with. You know as well as I that had he laid one hand on me, you would have killed him.”

  “Damn straight.” Mitch gave a tight little laugh and kissed me on the forehead. “Now”—he stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt—“let’s get changed and start packing.”

  “What?”

  “We’re supposed to leave for our honeymoon, remember? Now that you’ve gotten rid of Fred for the evening, I suspect that we’ve got enough time to get out of the city before The Cadre exacts their vigilante justice on you. I won’t stand by and let them prosecute you, Deirdre. After all this time and the way I had to live without you, and after . . .” Smiling, Mitch ruffled my hair. “You finally came to your senses and married me; I won’t let anyone interfere, not the bloody pretentious Victor Lange or even his goddamned precious Cadre.”

  I chuckled at his accurate summation of the scene we had just been put through, then grew serious. “But Mitch, I can’t leave. I promised Victor. Besides, what sort of life would we have, running and hiding from them wherever we go? The life I already lead is bad enough, but to have to avoid them for the rest of eternity?” I shook my head sadly; the decision to marry him had been an easier one to swallow, but the commitment I had finally made to face up to my problems and not run away applied as much to this situation as to my relationship with Mitch. “No, we can’t run. It really doesn’t matter for me, but you, you’re a different matter completely. I will not have them punish you again for something I did. And if, in the process, they were to hurt you, or drive you completely insane, or kill you, I’d be forced to take revenge on them.” I sighed and wiped away a tear. “Mitch, I love you, I want nothing more than to stay with you for the rest of your life, but I’m tired of running away. I can’t exist any longer at odds with the entire universe. It will stop here. Like it or not, I’m one of them and I’ll accept their terms and their justice, no matter what.”

  To my surprise, Mitch was not angry at my statements. Instead, he smiled at me, his blue eyes almost aglow in their intensity. “Deirdre, we’ll beat them, together. We can get you off this charge, I’m sure of it. And if not, I’d put down money that you could take them all on single-handedly and come out unscathed.”

  “I wish I could be so sure. Fred was easy, but who knows how long my control over him will continue? And as for all the others, I have no experience against which to gauge their power or their reactions.”

  “But don’t you see?” He pulled me to my feet and held me to him. “You’re a rogue to them, a wild card. They have no gauge of you either. And they’ve all been tutored, led along the easy pa
th, while you had to struggle and fight every inch of the way. You have an inner strength and conviction that none of The Cadre, with all their ancient ceremonies and rites, can match.”

  I moved an arm’s length from him and smiled. “I never thought of it that way. You may just be right. But”—I nestled up against him, sliding my hands under his open shirt, savoring the warm texture of his bare skin against my fingers—“let’s not spend the rest of the night discussing this. I thought we were supposed to be on our honeymoon.”

  Shortly before dawn I lay entwined with Mitch, admiring the shine of the street lights reflecting onto my wedding ring. A simple gold band, it was only a little too large for my finger. I smiled and, for those last few precious minutes of the night, watched him sleep. It has been too many years, I thought, since I allowed myself to love someone fully. And yet, he was worth the waiting.

  When the sky began to lighten, I got out of bed, pulled down the blinds, and drew the heavy draperies across the window, then slid back under the covers, pressing myself against his warm body.

  The dirt road I walk seems familiar somehow; a voice in the back of my mind recognizes this place even though I’ve never been here. I shrug the feeling away, a habit that I’ve become quite adept at through the centuries. What I don’t understand I tend to leave alone. A soft rain is falling, and the wheel ruts in the road well up with muddy water.

  I have been traveling with no purpose for some time now, ever since Leupold made the long ocean journey and found me. He remains in that city, excited by his new life and slowly building for himself a dynasty of other beings like us. I managed to convince him that I wanted no part of his empire, but helped him to locate those that I myself had transformed. There are only a few still living; whether they choose to join him or not is their decision. I have not yet met one I would be willing to spend the rest of eternity with. I tell myself that I prefer my loneliness to their inane society, prefer to commit my atrocities with no audience other than my own belabored conscience.