by Мишель Роуэн
A strange smile twisted across his wrinkled face. “Veronique is a special case. A rare rose in a garden of snakes. But I wouldn’t hesitate to tear her heart from her lovely chest if she provoked me.”
He glared at me, his narrow gaze doing its hardest to intimidate me. It was working. I looked away first.
“Well, this is rather uncomfortable, isn’t it?” Dr. Kalisan said after a moment. “Perhaps I should put on a pot of coffee and we can move this discussion to the kitchen?”
“Unfortunately, my friend”—Roger reached into the jacket pocket opposite to the one with the cell phone and pulled out a long, sharp wooden stake—“there’s no time for that.”
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Just what do you think you’re going to do with that, Father?”
“What I have to,” he said simply. “Do not think that for one moment I shall take any pleasure from your death. I had great hopes for you. Great hopes. But they are not to be anymore.”
“Yeah, quite the disappointment I’ve been to you, haven’t I?” The anger and bitterness in Quinn was so strong it was like a thick, dark aura surrounding him. “Trained me to hunt and kill all of these years, and look what happened to me.”
“Yes.” Roger tested the sharpness of the stake with the tip of his finger. Looked pretty damn sharp to me. “It is unfortunate, but a risk with the life of a hunter. At least to the weaker ones.”
“You never gave me any credit for all the work I did.”
Quinn’s voice was getting stronger, fueled by the truth he just heard. “What I thought was right. You raised me to believe that vampires are evil and need to be killed, as if they’re no better than insects.”
“They aren’t, son. Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Roger took a decisive step toward Quinn with the menace of the practiced hunter he was.
“No!” Quinn’s arm moved almost faster than I could see, and in the one motion he snatched the stake right out of his father’s hand.
“I’m not evil. Sarah’s not evil. I’ve spent all these years murdering vampires in the name of good. And all of that time, I never knew I was one of the bad guys. Snuffing out innocent lives because of your personal vendetta. You lied to me. Lied to me. You killed my mother. It was you, all of this time.”
“Yes, it was me. Doing what had to be done. Protecting my only son from the hurtful truth. I feel no guilt over your mother’s death. She deserved it. She deserved worse than that, but unfortunately she died much too quickly for me to inflict the quality of pain I had planned.”
“I hate you.” Quinn’s voice was uneven and pitchy now, just short of hysteria. “I think I’ve always hated you.”
Roger leaned over to his side and pulled a long blade from his boot. “Silver,” he said and moved it so it reflected the light in the room. “Works just as well as wood on monsters like you.”
He rushed Quinn before I could move or even scream. Quinn tried to hold him off, keep the knife away from his throat, his chest. The wooden stake, Quinn’s only weapon, was knocked to the floor. His fist flew out, catching Roger’s chin. I saw a streak of red as the blade caught Quinn across his cheek. Then I heard the gunshot. And the body slumped heavily to the floor. Quinn stepped back from his father’s body. He was shaking. I was shaking. I looked over toward the kitchen. Dr. Kalisan held a smoking gun in his hand and shook his head sadly.
“I never knew the truth. If I had, I would have wanted no part in this. Please forgive me.”
He turned around and disappeared into the kitchen.
I staggered toward Quinn and grabbed ahold of his arm, tried to stop his shaking.
He was in shock. I could see it in his glassy eyes as he turned to look at me. “He’s dead.”
I nodded.
Quinn fell to his knees in front of his father. He was crying. Crying over this man who’d killed his mother in cold blood. Who’d made his life a living hell for the ensuing years. He cried because his father was dead. Then he wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt and took a deep and shuddering breath. I got down on my knees and hugged him. I expected him to push me away, but he didn’t. He didn’t hug me back, he just let me hold him. I felt a nudge at my arm and jumped. It was Barkley. He’d come into the room to see what the noise was all about. He sat next to me, panting. I gave the werewolf a small smile and looked back at Roger.
It was usually at this point in a horror movie when the bad guy would sit up, unhurt by his injuries and keep coming, focused only on getting the job done. But Quinn’s father wasn’t going anywhere. He stared at the ceiling with blank, unseeing eyes.
The doctor must have come back, because after a few minutes I heard him speak.
“Excuse me,” he said, and I looked up to see he had poured himself a very tall glass of amber-colored alcohol—probably Scotch. He took a healthy chug of it and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t mean to interrupt.”
I just blinked at him. I could barely register what end was up, let alone what to say or do next.
“I feel very responsible for what has transpired here,” he continued. “But I don’t know who to call to stop them. I only knew Roger.”
Quinn didn’t look up. “What are you talking about?”
“The information you gave me. It doesn’t feel right that the hunters should have it, now that I know the truth.”
I let go of Quinn and got to my feet in the space of a heartbeat. Thierry.
I remembered what Roger said to his friends over the telephone. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Shit, he’s already told the other hunters. We have to leave right now.”
“My apologies will never be enough,” Dr. Kalisan said. “Only know that if you should need my assistance in any way in the future, I’ll give it to you without hesitation.”
Quinn and I ran out to the Beetle. It felt like hours had passed since we arrived there, but I knew it had only been a matter of minutes. The big, life-changing stuff always tends to happen quickly.
“I need a cell phone.”
Quinn handed his over without question. It would take us a while to drive back to Toronto, but I could at least warn Thierry—tell him to get the hell out of Midnight Eclipse before it was too late. That meant I’d have to tell him what we’d just done. Sold him out. It didn’t matter. He could hate me, but at least he wouldn’t be dead because of me.
I dialed the number from memory. While it rang, I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was 9:15. The club would have been open for fifteen minutes already.
“Come on,” I said into the phone as Quinn pulled the car away from the trailer. “Answer, dammit.”
What if it was already too late? What if the hunters had all been at Clancy’s bar drinking beer and playing pool when they got the call? They could have just marched across the road and taken the whole place down within minutes. It was too horrible a thought to consider.
On the fifth ring someone finally picked up.
“Midnight Eclipse,” Zelda’s voice rang out over the phone, and I let out a long sigh of relief.
“Is this some kind of pervert?” Zelda asked as she listened to my long exhale.
“No. It’s Sarah.”
“That’s too bad. I was hoping for a pervert. Sarah, what’s up?”
“I need to speak with Thierry. It’s urgent.”
“Sorry, sweetie. He’s stepped out.”
“Where did he go? When will he be back?”
“Hey, take it easy. He went to talk to some people. I don’t know. Something to do with finding the traitor. What’s the problem?”
“The traitor,” I repeated. “But I already know who it is.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. God, why didn’t I tell you earlier? Thierry has to know this, too. It’s Veronique.”
“Veronique? Are you serious?”
“It’s her. I’m positive. When I went out for a drink with her, she ended up schmoozing with the hunters. Just be careful. She’s probab
ly dangerous.”
“Where are you?”
“Just turning onto the QEW, coming back from Grimsby.”
“You were in Grimsby? What the hell were you doing there?”
I glanced at Quinn, but his eyes were focused on his driving. He probably needed every last ounce of concentration to keep the car on the road.
“I’ve done something terrible, Zelda. Quinn and me—we went after the cure. Thierry’s in terrible danger. Tell him… tell him to go and hide somewhere safe. I feel so horrible. I don’t know what to do!”
Zelda was quiet for a moment.
“You sold him out,” she finally said. “For a cure that doesn’t even exist?”
“I know. I’m stupid. I’ll admit it. But if the hunters aren’t there yet, then there’s still a—”
I stopped talking. The sick feeling in my stomach was spreading all through my body now.
“Wait a minute. How do you know the cure doesn’t exist?”
There was silence before I heard Zelda laugh lightly.
“I guess I should have just let you keep talking. At least that’s something you’re good at.”
“You knew that it didn’t exist?” My brain felt like it was about to explode. “But you’re the one who gave me the phone number to get it.”
“Yes, I did.”
A chill went down my spine. “My God. It’s not Veronique at all, is it? It’s you. You’re the traitor.”
“Those in glass houses, honey. I believe you’re the one who just screwed Thierry over. As far as I know, it wouldn’t be the first time you screwed him, but that’s your business, not mine.”
“How could you?”
“The real question is, how couldn’t I? We all do things for a greater purpose, Sarah. You did yours to get the cure. I did mine for simple monetary gain.”
“For money?”
“I’ve lived a long time. Never had a goddamned penny to my name. I’m a three-hundred-year-old bartender, for Christ’s sake. You’ve had it so easy and you don’t even realize it. Thierry never helped me as much as he’s helped you, and even then I never would have sold him out like you just did. Then again, I didn’t know he was worth so much until today. Still, nobody but him ever lifted a finger to help me. Well, now I’m lifting a finger. My middle one—and I’m finally going to get what’s coming to me.”
My grip on the cell phone tightened. “Yes. You’ll get exactly what’s coming to you. As soon as I get there.”
“Gonna have to let you go, sweetie. The boss just got back, and he doesn’t look happy. It’s funny, him being worth all that money. Makes me look at him in a different light. That kind of cash would have been sweet, but I guess you beat me to the punch on that juicy little piece of information. C’est la vie.”
The phone went dead. I screamed into it and smashed it hard on the dashboard. It broke into pieces in my hand.
I glanced at Quinn. “Oops. Sorry. I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Forget it. What the hell was that all about?”
My numbness was going away. The fog was pulling away and leaving behind a hot line of rage.
“Zelda’s the traitor. I can’t believe it. I thought she was my friend.”
“Who’s Zelda?”
“The bartender at Midnight Eclipse. Looks like a teenager.” I stared out the window at the road ahead. “And as soon as we get back there, I think I’m going to ground her for life.”
Chapter 24
Quinn was gunning it all the way back to Toronto, but it still felt as though we were moving at a snail’s pace.
“What’s the plan?” he asked as we saw the CN Tower ahead and the shimmering lake to our right.
I shook my head. I wasn’t going to panic. There wasn’t any time for a luxury like that. “I don’t know. Hope we’re in time to even have a plan.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I. I’m sorry about your father. Maybe the two of you just needed some time to work through all that stuff.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “I think that’s the only thing I’m not sorry about. He killed my mother. He treated me like I was shit on the bottom of his boot for nearly thirty years. Is it wrong to be happy he’s finally dead?”
I didn’t know how to answer that, so I didn’t. Finally we got to the club. It was just after ten o’clock. Quinn didn’t bother trying to park neatly, so we left the car with one tire up on the sidewalk. I ran to the front door and pushed it open, Quinn at my side. It was empty. Nobody at the front desk. The sound of recorded Musak-like tunes filled the air. I went toward the black door that led to the club and pushed it open. An entirely different kind of music filled my ears now. The black door must have been soundproof, because in the tanning salon there was zero indication that anything else was going on only a few feet away. The usual band was onstage, the Bettie Page-like singer belting out a tune. At the moment she was singing “Goldfinger,” the James Bond theme song.
At first glance, the only thing out of ordinary about the club was that it was filled way past capacity. There had to be at least a hundred vampires in there. It struck me as odd for a moment, but then I realized that other clubs were closed, either burned to the ground or shut down to prevent being burned to the ground. And here I thought Veronique wanted to keep things trucking because she was the traitor and wanted to give the hunters easier access. Now I knew it was simply a business decision. It took a lot of greenbacks to pay for her designer wardrobe. And with that many thirsty vamps filling the club, she must have been raking it in tonight.
“Sarah!” George raced up to me. His hair was sweaty and plastered to his forehead. “Am I glad you’re here!”
My eyes widened and I grabbed his muscled arms. “What’s wrong? Where’s Thierry?”
“Who cares where he is! Romance can wait, sweet pea. Do you see this crowd? I’m going nuts. Grab a tray and start taking orders.” He glanced at Quinn. “And you, too, handsome.”
I grabbed his shirt. “I’m serious, George. Where’s Thierry?”
He raised his eyebrows. “He’s around. I saw him just a minute ago, okay?”
I let him go and glanced toward the bar. “Where’s Zelda?”
“She’s gone. It’s just me and the new guy, and he’s a total waste of space. Come on. Help me out. I’ll owe you a big one, and you can take that any way you want to.”
“I thought you said you didn’t sweat the small stuff?”
“I lied. I’m sweating. Look at me, it’s disgusting.” He looked over at the bar to see a young vampire reaching over to refill his mug of blood. “Hey! Hands off!” He ran off to stop him.
I looked at Quinn.
“I’m not exactly in the mood to wait tables tonight,” he said.
I grabbed his shirt. “We have to find Thierry.”
We threaded our way through the busy tables until I felt a hand reach out and grab my arm. I spun around, ready to punch or kick whoever it was.
“Sweetheart,” a dark-haired man slurred. He was with a busty blonde, and both of them were obviously drunk. “Can we get a round of O pos and gins here? Actually, make them Rusty Nails, would you, toots?”
I turned away, ready to ignore him, but he pinched my ass hard enough for me to spin back around. I had to clench my hand at my side to stop from slapping him.
“Look, dickweed, do I look like a waitress to you?”
“You were the other night.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not now. And hands to yourself, buddy.”
“I’m going to complain to the management.”
But I’d moved far enough past him not to care. I glanced at Quinn. Considering the horrible night it had been, especially for him, he actually had the audacity to look amused.
“What?”
“Dickweed?”
I shrugged. “And your point? He was one and I call ‘em like I see ’em.”
“I can imagine what you want to call me right now.” His amused expression faded.
&n
bsp; “Don’t get all melancholy on me. I need you to keep it together.”
“You need me?”
“Yeah. Now don’t go getting any ideas, though.”
“A discussion for another time?” He looked at me hopefully.
“You’re impossible.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes, you’re impossible. Other than that, I’m not promising anything.”
“You know we’re perfect for each other, Sarah.”
“I can’t believe you want to discuss this right now after everything that’s happened. This is so not a good time.”
He smiled at me. “I like the fact that you’re not turning me down flat. I guess I just don’t understand what your objection is to the two of us getting together.”
“Did I mention that you’re due for a serious ass kicking?”
His smile widened at that. “That sounds like it might have interesting possibilities.”
I made a frustrated noise loud enough to be heard over the music. “You tried to kill me, dumb-ass. Twice.”
“And now all I want to do is kiss you. Just give me one reason why we shouldn’t be together.”
He was nuts. And this was such a bad time for this discussion. I turned away from him because my face was growing warm. My gaze moved over the dozens of vampires enjoying the night out, drinking with their friends, families, lovers—despite the lousy service tonight. My gaze finally reached Thierry’s booth.
He was leaning against it, staring directly at me.
“Thierry.” I let out a long sigh of relief and immediately began walking toward him.
“Oh, right,” I heard Quinn say dully. “That’s the reason why.”
I got closer to Thierry, pushing my way past the club-goers until I was finally standing right in front of him.
“Sarah.” His lips moved slowly into a half smile. “Good to see you.” His silver-eyed gaze turned toward Quinn, who had swallowed his hurt pride enough to stay by my side. “I see that you’ve brought a date tonight.”
My mouth opened to deny it, but I closed it. There were more important and urgent things to discuss than petty jealousies. Was he jealous? No, I couldn’t think about that right now. I couldn’t get distracted, but he was so distracting. And now I knew that he hadn’t killed Quinn’s mother. So did Quinn, but it didn’t keep the loathing from radiating off him in waves.
