And why was she so hungry? After seeing what had occurred down in the morgue, she was surprised she wasn’t losing the burger she’d eaten earlier instead of wanting something more to eat. Yet, she did want to eat, something hot and very filling.
At the top of the stairs, she could still hear James and Doc talking. Gosh, they must be nearly yelling at one another in that small room, she thought, for her to be able to hear them so clearly.
“Is she all right?” Doc asked.
“She will be,” James said, but Emma thought she heard uncertainty in his voice. “As soon we end this and she feels safe again, I think she’ll be okay. It will just take some time.”
Emma moved into the reception area, and the sounds of their voices faded away. Rain still pounded on the roof and blew against the automatic doors. Emma looked out. There wasn’t a car on the street. The day was dark as the afternoon faded away.
In the breakroom off the reception area, she heated a cup of water for tea, thinking a steak dinner complete with red wine would be wonderful. In the cabinet she found a jar of peanut butter and some crackers. They weren’t a drippy, juicy steak, but they would do in a pinch. She spread peanut butter on three crackers and stuffed them into her mouth, one right after the other. And they hardly made a dent in the hunger that clutched at her belly. She washed them down with a drink of water since the tea wasn’t yet ready.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She stopped and stared at the cabinet in front of her. She didn’t know how she knew she was no longer alone; she simply felt the presence of another. The realization came to her nearly a full second before the strong, familiar smell of perfume touched her nose. And just as she knew she was no longer alone, she knew who stood behind her. Her old roommate, who had disappeared five years ago, before Emma was taken and tied up at the mill.
“What do you want, Marcy?”
Chapter Seventeen
Old Acquaintances, New Revelations
“Hello, Emma.”
Marcy’s voice was subtle and seductive, barely more than a whisper from across the room. The voice was the same; it was the tone that Emma didn’t recognize.
Emma didn’t turn to face her, didn’t turn to look into her eyes, but she thought if she did, she would find Marcy wearing a short black skirt with fishnet stockings and spiked heels.
“I asked you what you wanted,” Emma said, giving Marcy no greeting.
“I just came to see you, Emma. I’ve missed you so much. You’re my best friend.” Her voice literally purred.
“You’re dead to me,” Emma said, working to keep the emotion out of her voice. She was certain Marcy heard her heart beating in her chest, because Emma could hear it as well as feel it.
“You’ll never be dead to me, Emma,” Marcy replied sweetly.
“It’s been five long years. Why have you come back now?” Emma asked. She still stared in front of her, taking in everything on the counter—the peanut butter, the box of crackers, salt and pepper shakers, various mugs, the butter knife she used to spread the peanut butter, a stack of paper napkins, all very ordinary things when life suddenly wasn’t so ordinary. She swallowed hard and worked to get rid of the remaining peanut butter from the roof of her mouth.
“Because my master said now was the time,” Marcy replied.
“So where have you been the last five years?” Emma asked, not wanting to think about Marcy’s master. Marcy’s master had done unspeakable things to Emma, merely by thinking them.
“Everywhere,” Marcy said, her voice low and breathy. “You should have been with me; you could have seen the world. Venice, Berlin, Moscow. I spent wonderful weeks on the French Riviera.”
Her voice drew closer, even though Emma didn’t hear her take a step.
“You would have enjoyed it,” Marcy went on, “but you had to be your stubborn self, so you had to stay here and suffer all these years.”
Emma closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Yes, she had suffered—nightmares and voices while she was awake, and memories that left her feeling so dirty she would want to swim for miles. “I’d rather suffer,” Emma said slowly, “than be like you. At least I can feel.”
“I feel things, too,” Marcy insisted. “In fact, my feelings grow stronger and stronger each day. I can now feel sadness and happiness. I’m so happy to see you,” she added.
The strange thing was Marcy did, indeed, sound happy.
“And do you know what?” Marcy asked.
Emma didn’t reply. She didn’t want to know more. She wanted Marcy gone. Marcy’s words had come from right behind her, which meant she was only mere inches away. Emma was terrified to move.
“The strongest of feelings are love and lust. You wouldn’t believe how wonderful those are, how strong.”
“Really?” Emma asked, not believing a vampire could feel love.
“Yes, I could show you. All you have to do is turn around and look at me. Look into my eyes.”
So this was nothing more than a trick, Emma thought. Vampires didn’t feel anything. They were incapable of feeling love. “Go away,” Emma said harshly. I want no part of you.” She simply couldn’t bring herself to wish Marcy destroyed like the others. Why couldn’t Marcy just leave her alone?
Emma almost heard Marcy smile as she said, “Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”
“What do you mean?” Emma had to ask. Her heart was now racing.
Marcy placed her hand on Emma’s shoulder, and it took all of Emma’s courage not to jump away or turn to face her. “My master wants you. I’ve tried forever to change to his mind, to show him he doesn’t need you, but you certainly sparked something in him, something that he thinks he can’t live without. But I know I’ll be his most favored one should I bring you to him.”
“Forget it,” Emma said. “Go back to the Riviera, or some hidden island somewhere else, but you are not welcome here.” She remembered all that James had told her about the public being invited into public places as she tried this tactic to get Marcy to leave by making her unwelcome.
“Oh, that won’t work on me, Emma,” Marcy almost cooed. “Why do you insist on making this so much harder than it has to be? I promise you, you will love this new life. You never have to sleep. You seldom have to feed.”
The word feed caused Emma’s stomach to growl.
“You can control the thoughts of others, if you want,” Marcy put in.
“You can’t control mine, though, can you?” Emma challenged.
Marcy chuckled. It was a haunting sound in the quiet room, reminding Emma of the way the Wicked Witch’s laugh had bothered her as a child. “Yes, you have proved to be a tough challenge, but an enjoyable one for my master. I tried to tell him you would be a tough cookie, but he has insisted on having you.”
“Go away, Marcy.”
“Your energy and strength has intrigued him.”
“I’ll never be like you.”
Marcy’s laughter rang through the room. “Oh, Emma, you are so naïve, so blind.”
“I would rather die first,” Emma added, feeling strongly that she really would rather die first. She thought of the way Marcy’s master had touched her with coldness, and she thought death would be warmer—and a hell of a lot less terrifying to face.
Marcy touched her again, this time placing both hands on her shoulders. She leaned close and whispered in Emma’s ear. “James Winchester has made love to you. I smell him on you. I feel his energy in you, just by touching your arms. And, oh, you smell so good, so sweet. My master is right, you would taste delicious. It’s too bad he is so caught up in you and developing his psychic ability. He’s too busy to see the obvious, so I don’t think he knows this. We’ll keep it our little secret, okay, a secret between us girls? It could prove to make things very interesting later, don’t you think?”
Emma shivered under the words, beneath the touch of Marcy’s hands. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Marcy
said innocently. “You didn’t know James is one of us? You didn’t know James craves the taste of blood—your blood? I’m very surprised he didn’t feel my presence and come up here already. He must be very busy down there with Doc. And you didn’t know what making love with him could do? Let me explain. Making love to him once is—”
She paused. Emma thought she probably shrugged, but she still didn’t turn to see.
“No big deal,” Marcy went on. “It probably does nothing more than make you more sensitive to emotion or make your senses stronger. But make love, say, three times in one day, and what he leaves inside you could be just as powerful as the venom of his bite. I guess he was keeping all that as a surprise for you. You did enjoy making love with him, didn’t you?” Marcy didn’t allow Emma time to reply. She answered her own question. “Of course you did. I’ll bet it was a wonderful, earth-shattering experience. I feel how much you still want him. And would you like to know what I saw?”
Emma closed her eyes and said nothing, even though the answer was no, she didn’t want to know.
“That night five years ago, the night Doc and James killed so many of us, the night I was transformed and barely escaped James’s killing spree, I saw the way James carried you to Doc. I saw the way he touched you, the way he held you. The only thing that kept me from being his next kill was that he had his hands filled with you. I’ll bet he’s wanted you since he first touched you. And five years has taught me how a vampire reacts when he finally touches his mate. I’ll bet James has watched you sleep and followed you home. I wouldn’t be surprised if he even paid for the pool you swim in every day. Don’t wait for him to make you one of us. Let me. We’ll make a grand and powerful circle. It will be wonderful, you’ll see.”
Emma was nearly shaking as Marcy’s words sank in.
James was like them. He’d probably been following her, stalking her, touching her?
How was that possible?
It simply wasn’t. James was good. And he’d told her he had killed monsters like Marcy and her master, that he hunted them.
But just as she knew things when she looked into James’s eyes, she knew what Marcy said was true.
For who would make a better vampire hunter than another vampire? Another vampire would know every vampire secret. Another vampire wouldn’t need to eat food, wouldn’t feel the cold, wouldn’t need to sleep.
Emma still didn’t want to accept this. She acted on instinct and instinct alone as she picked up the salt shaker and the butter knife she’d used to spread peanut butter. “You really want to look into my eyes? Then go ahead, take a good look. It will be your last.”
She turned to face Marcy. Marcy was the same, but different. Beautiful, seductive, her skin golden tanned, her eyes a brilliant, sparkling blue, and her brown hair now long and wavy. Looking at her, Emma easily saw how Marcy could mesmerize her prey. Emma took all this in in a fraction of a second, in less than the blink of an eye. Then, before she could be captured in Marcy’s hypnotizing stare, she plunged the knife into Marcy’s chest.
Marcy screamed a high-pitched squeal that nearly hurt Emma’s ears. And the teeth Emma saw when Marcy opened her mouth to scream were sharp and pointed. Marcy grabbed at the knife in an attempt to pull it out and heal herself, as James had explained to Emma. Emma held fast to the end of knife, even twisting it a small bit, causing Marcy to scream more. Then Emma shook the salt shaker at her, tossing salt onto Marcy’s face and into her hair.
The small granules of salt burned Marcy’s skin and sent up tiny swirls of smoke. Marcy let go of the knife that protruded from her chest and clutched at her face and head. Suddenly, James and Doc burst into the room just in time for one final screech before Marcy turned to ash and was gone. The room was utterly silent after she disappeared.
Emma grew weak all over, and she couldn’t stop her knees from buckling beneath her as she slid to the floor. She didn’t even want to be on the floor; it was covered with Marcy’s ashes.
Then James was before her, grasping her arms. It took her a moment to realize he was speaking her name over and over. He took her hands in his, and she felt his energy. It seemed to penetrate right into the skin of her palms, up her arms and into the rest of her body. She looked up into his eyes, saw the silver in them, and she knew everything Marcy had said was true.
James was a vampire. He was one of the undead, just like the monster that had tortured her and filled her with fear forever.
And James knew she knew.
“How did you know to come up here and help me, James? Did you hear Marcy with your acute hearing? Did you feel her presence? And don’t lie to me.” She clenched her jaw to keep from losing control with her rage and screaming at him.
“Yes. To both questions.”
“I let you touch me,” Emma said slowly. She pulled her hands from James’s grasp. “I let you make love with me.” She didn’t care that Doc heard her, too.
“Yes, because you are my soul mate. You are meant to be with me. Forever,” he said. “Please, let me explain.”
“No.”
“Emma, listen to him,” Doc put in.
She shifted her gaze to Doc. “But you don’t understand. He’s one of them.” Her word “them” held enough venom to nearly match the venom of James’s bite. Emma wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she knew it with a certainty that told her it was true. Emma’s chest felt tight, and her heart actually hurt as realization set it.
“I know what he is, and I do understand, more than you realize,” Doc replied calmly, throwing a glance toward James.
Both Emma and James stared at Doc in astonishment.
“You knew?” James asked slowly.
“I knew the night you brought Emma to me and demanded I care for her. I saw that you were one of them just as clearly as I saw your love for her,” Doc admitted.
“You could have said something,” Emma snapped at him.
“Why? I’ve never seen anything but goodness come from James. In fact, the only thing out of the ordinary I ever noticed was that one of the pints of blood was missing after the last blood drive. I assumed he took it,” Doc said.
“But he’s a-a-a—” She suddenly couldn’t say the word again.
“Yes, and Ginger Rashmyer’s husband is a bully and a wife beater, so does that make every man one, also?” Doc asked.
“I can’t believe you’re so calm about this,” Emma said as she jumped to her feet. Without another word, she headed for the door. They hadn’t locked it after they’d come in, and it automatically opened when Emma approached. If they had locked it, she wouldn’t have had to face Marcy, and the truth wouldn’t be tearing out her gut right now.
Almost instantly, the rain wet her clothes clear to her skin, and it was difficult to see through it. But Emma didn’t need to see as she headed off down the street at a sprint. She knew the way.
* * * *
“Go after her, son,” Doc told James.
“I still can’t believe you’ve known all this time,” James said.
“Quit wasting time and go after her. She needs you. And she’s outside—unprotected.”
“And you don’t have a problem with her needing me?” James had to ask.
“Well, I would have liked to see her with a family, but I think having someone like you who loves her as much as you obviously do is good enough for me,” Doc said. “Now what are you waiting for?”
“Lock the door behind me,” James instructed, “and don’t let anyone—I mean anyone—in. Two of his offspring have been destroyed here. He won’t be happy about that.”
The automatic door swished open and they both turned quickly to see Ms. Farmington, Glenda’s mother, enter.
James wondered why she bothered with the umbrella. The raincoat she wore was a better choice. But all of her dripped, her hair appeared soaked, and her shoes were so wet, they squeaked loudly with each step.
“Doc, Chief Winchester,” she greeted them.
Her eyes were puffy and red, and J
ames hoped she hadn’t come to ask to see her daughter. They couldn’t very well take her downstairs right now. “Ms. Farmington,” James said.
“What can we do for you?” Doc asked. James noticed worry come into his eyes, and James knew he was also thinking they couldn’t take Ms. Farmington down to the morgue with Ginger Rashmyer lying there with her heart cut out.
“Actually, I’m here to talk to Chief Winchester.” She turned slightly to face James. “I hope you don’t mind, but I was on my way to the police station to give you this and I saw your car parked outside. So I thought I’d just stop in here, since it obviously would have been stupid for me to try to drive all the way to the police station when I knew you weren’t there.”
James offered her a small smile. “In a storm like this, Ms. Farmington, you should be home. Whatever you wanted to tell me could have waited.”
“No, it couldn’t,” she insisted.
He saw there was no convincing her. “All right, so what can I do for you?” James asked, wanting only to get rid of her so he could go after Emma.
She shook the rain off her coat. “I wanted to ask if you ever found my daughter’s boyfriend, Quinn,” she said.
“No, I haven’t,” James was forced to admit.
“I just can’t help wondering if he doesn’t have something to do with this,” Ms. Farmington said. “Especially since he has never once called or come by. If he was so in love with her, you’d think he would have come forward, don’t you?”
James agreed with her, but he kept quiet.
“Anyway,” she went on, “I hope you don’t mind, but I went to her house. I went past that yellow police tape.”
“I don’t mind,” James told her in an effort to put her at ease. He knew they wouldn’t find anything else that would lead them to the vampire who had killed Glenda. “But may I ask why?”
She looked hard at him. “My little girl was always the artist, always had a sketch book. It was her outlet. I found this, her latest sketches.” She held out a sketchbook, and James took it from her. “The last several sketches are all of the same man. I think he’s this boyfriend no one seems to know.”
No Fear Page 24
