Soften him up a little.
He looks back at me as he struggles to his feet. “You could help me, you know. Take the cuffs off so I can use the rail."
"And miss the show? I don't think so. Keep going."
He mumbles something that sounds like “miserable vamp bitch” but I don't ask him to repeat it.
It takes a good ten minutes to get down to the water's edge. At the bottom, there's a little beach protected by a natural sea wall.
The waves crash and boom around us, perfect insulation in case Lawson needs to yell or scream—or something.
He stops at the water's edge and turns toward me. “Well, we made it. What happens now?"
I look around for a place to stow the gun. Wouldn't want it to get wet. I find a little shelf in the rock and place it and Lawson's badge out of reach of the breaking waves.
Then I turn, too, and we're face to face. The cave throws jagged shadows, alternating light and dark, making him look like the jester on a pack of playing cards. He's scowling, holding himself upright, full of stubborn resolve.
But there's another vampire trait I'm starting to develop.
It's an ability to smell fear.
And right now, he reeks of it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
"Okay, Lawson,” I say. “Let's make this easy. You know what I want from you. You may as well give it up now and you'll live to fight vampires another day. If you don't, I may just rethink that feeding off innocent victims thing and give it a try."
He's still pulling a “you don't scare me” thing, still scowling, still stiff. “I don't have any idea what you're talking about."
"Okay. Then I'll give you a hint. He's about six-foot-six, weighs 250 pounds, broad shoulders, built like a tight end, which, oh yeah, he was. It's not going to go over very well when it comes out a well-known football jock was kidnapped by a bunch of state troopers hunting vampires. Might even be the end of your career and the beginning an all expense paid vacation to one of our more secure state institutions."
His face says I'm not going to tell you a thing, but his shoulders are starting to slump a little. He puts steel in his voice when he says,
“If you're talking about that partner of yours, what makes you think we had anything to do with his disappearance?"
I let a little smile touch my mouth. “Well, for one thing, you know he's my partner. And for another, you know he's disappeared, a thing I've only told two people, both of whom I trust a hell of a lot more than I trust you. So, I'll ask you once more in a nice way.
Where is he?"
Lawson may be softening a little, but not enough to be convinced that I'm a real threat. I see it in his eyes. Maybe I need to be a little more forceful.
I've never done this before, but I decide it's time to see how my vampire face might effect him. I'm not even sure how it's done, since with Donaldson it was more of an instinctive self-preservation thing. So I think about all that's been done to me in the last few days, the fire and the attacks on my life, and how David has been drawn into this through no fault of his own and how this asshole has the answers I need and I feel the change begin.
I watch it through Lawson's eyes. He shrinks back as if it's no longer a human he's confronting, but an animal. I hear a snarl, and realize it's from me. I feel my hands ball into fists and my lips curl back. My blood sings in my veins and a hunger for his becomes an overwhelming force that swallows what little humanity is left. Suddenly I'm not sure I can control what's happening. I'm drawn to him, my eyes on his throat because the pulse beating there becomes the center of my universe. Nothing matters but that I drink.
"Stop, please."
It's too late. I'm on him, ripping at the neck of his tee shirt, all that stands between me and the source of life.
He struggles back, falls. I'm on top. Teeth snap at the air, come closer.
"Please. I'll tell you. I know where he is."
Anna, stop.
My little voice is back.
I shake my head. No.
Lawson is screaming now, trying to twist away. I have his shoulders locked in my grip.
You have to. He knows.
I can't.
Yes. You can. Think. It's David's life.
A groan escapes my lips. This is too hard.
This is the way it is.
I push myself off Lawson and roll over onto my back. Every cell in my body is in revolt. The struggle to regain myself takes all my strength. I feel Lawson gasping beside me. If I still breathed air, I would be gasping too. As it is, all I can do is lie very still and wait until I know it's safe. Until I know the human Anna is back.
It takes awhile. Still, I recover before Lawson. When I pull myself into a sitting position and look over at him, he's heaving quietly into the water. There's a long, bloody gash on his cheek.
I move away. The scent and sight of blood threatens my resolve even now. I wait and watch as he pulls himself together, wipes tears and snot off his face, and hoists himself to his feet. His legs tremble and threaten to collapse under him. I don't dare lend a hand. It's too soon. All I can see is the ribbon of blood on his face.
Finally, his breathing returns to normal, color floods his cheeks. He braces himself against the rocks. When his eyes find mine, there's no fight left.
"Where is he?” I ask quietly.
He actually attempts a smile, though the effect is more of a grimace. “You must have really pissed somebody off,” he says. “We're supposed to report when we spot you, but that's it. That's what I was going to do when you grabbed me. I swear, until today I had no idea you were connected to the kidnapping."
"Where is he?"
Lawson draws in a breath. “He's being held at some doctor's place,” he says. “I don't know where exactly. But a vamp with a lot of pull warned us to stay out of it."
"A vamp warned you to stay out of it? I thought hunting vampires was what you Revengers were all about?"
He shrugs. “We have confidential informants in the vampire community who help us when it's in their best interest."
Their best interest? I snort. “You mean, they help you in return for not getting staked?"
He shrugs again.
"Let's get back to that doctor. Why would a doctor kidnap David?"
Lawson says, “Word was that some newbie irritated an old soul and was being punished. I figured it was somebody's boyfriend or husband—some kind of freaky love triangle."
"Then why did you say you were supposed to report if you saw me?"
He shakes his head. “Because that's what we were told. I suppose it was because you got away from us. There were four sorry asses that got reamed because of that, mine included. I don't think the people in charge wanted that to happen again."
"And who are these ‘people in charge?’”
Lawson debates what he's afraid of most—a pissed off vampire or a pissed off human. I see it all taking place on his face. He makes the right decision.
"There's a sergeant in our command. I don't know who he answers to. We just let him know when we've spotted a vamp and he mobilizes the team."
"Like the other night?"
He nods. “Just lucked into that one.” He pauses, eyeing me. “Or maybe not."
"Let's get back to that doctor. You must have heard something else. Where does he live?"
"North County, I think. Or maybe La Jolla. Where do most doctor's live?"
Wide playing field and a whole lot of doctors. North County covers a lot of territory.
I turn away from Lawson and retreat a little into the shadows to think. Donaldson was telling me the truth in Beso de la Muerte .
The fire and David's kidnapping had nothing to do with him. So why was he killed?
I turn my face back to Lawson. “You guys have an international chapter in Mexico?"
"What?"
"That's where Donaldson was killed."
He looks supremely ambivalent. “Could be. We only know the other three members of our team. That
way, if we're caught, we can't give up anyone else."
Seeing how Lawson cracked under the proper persuasion, that makes sense.
"Of course,” he continues, “It could have been a family member of one of his victims."
"Who knew he was a vampire and where to find him? How likely is that?"
He looks at me for a moment. “How long have you been a vampire anyway?"
"What kind of question is that?"
Something seems to dawn on Lawson. “Not very long, I'd say. First, you let me get you into the squad car without a fight. Now you're asking questions only a novice would ask."
A novice? It's that obvious? “I know enough about being a vampire,” I say menacingly, “to know what to do with an insolent neck when I see one."
But that gets a smirk. “You should have told me the other night. Maybe I would have cut you some slack.” He tilts his head as though trying to bring something to mind. “I know who you are. You're the one Donaldson let get away. You must be."
They know about that, too? “Where do you get your information?"
"I told you, confidential informants."
"And how would the family of one of Donaldson's victims know that he was a vampire?"
"Anybody can find out anything for the right price."
"From whom?"
"If you want something bad enough, there's always a way."
"Anymore proverbs you want to mangle before you give me a straight answer?"
"There are people out there who deal in information like some deal in drugs. I can't give you a name."
None of this helps David. Impatience is quickly morphing into anger, my vampire temper rising. Lawson senses the change.
"I've told you all I know. Your partner was taken by a vamp doctor—"
"What?"
"A vamp doctor. I told you. I don't know why or where he's being held."
My heart starts pounding. “You didn't say it was a vamp doctor who took David. You just said it was a doctor."
He shakes his head. “No. I'm sure I told you it was a vamp doctor. A big wig—"
But I don't hear another word he says.
* * *
I decide to save time by releasing Lawson right outside the seashell shop. I uncuff him as we get to the top of the stairs.
The construction crew is starting to wander back from lunch, and we get a few strange looks as we appear from the cave.
Especially Lawson, whose clothes are stained and torn from our tussle down below.
One of the hardhats glares at us. “Can't you folks read? No Admittance. It's dangerous down there."
I flash the badge. “Official police business."
He grunts and moves away, mumbling, “More like monkey business from the looks of you two."
Lawson is rubbing at his wrists. “What about my wallet?"
But I've already slipped it back into my belt. “I think I'll keep this as a souvenir."
"How am I supposed to explain losing my badge?"
"I don't care."
He stares at me a minute, decides it's useless to argue, and starts to open the car door.
I cut behind him and slam it shut. “This is as far as you go."
He looks like he can't believe what I just said. “You're leaving me here? Like this?” He sweeps a hand down his ruined clothes.
“How am I suppose to get home?"
He's right. I should at least help him get home. I fish the wallet back out of my pocket, take the currency and credit cards from it, and hold those out. “Here. I don't need these."
He snatches them out of my hand. “Thanks for nothing."
But his sarcasm is lost on me. I'm already in the Explorer and cranking it over. I roll down the passenger side window and lean toward him. “One more thing. If you breathe a word of this, I'll come back for you."
This time he looks as if he believes me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A vamp doctor has David.
Nothing Lawson could have said rocks me like that one statement.
The implication is clear. My rational mind tells me that with all the vampires in San Diego, Avery may not be the only doctor.
But as far as I know, he's the only one who can connect David with me.
Why would Avery kidnap David? And if he did, is he also responsible for the fire?
None of this makes sense.
I glance at the clock on the dashboard. It's almost two in the afternoon. Avery said he'd be at the hospital until six. At least I'll have some time to search the house before he returns.
Avery.
My heart lies heavy in my chest. I thought we had a bond. More than the sex and blood thing. He appeared to be helping me—first in finding Donaldson and then, David. Otherwise, what was the point of Beso de la Muerte ?
Unless he thought I'd be killed there, too.
Could I really have been so wrong about him?
The driveway is empty when I pull up. This time, I drive around back, to the garage area. It's a stone structure, like the house, with three heavy iron doors to mark parking pads. I press a remote in the Explorer and one of the doors glides up. I pull the car inside and close it behind me.
There's one other vehicle inside—a restored Thunderbird from the 60's. The top is down and the tuck and roll upholstery shines in the overhead light. I run a finger over the leather, wondering if someone who could so lovingly restore a beautiful automobile like this be monster enough to put me in this much pain.
I check the garage out quickly. There are no trap doors leading underground, no hidden loft areas above. If David is somewhere on the premises, it's got to be in the house.
There's a covered portico leading from the garage to the back door. In case the housekeeper is still inside, I ring the bell. I think I remember Avery saying she only comes in the mornings and when no one answers, I let myself in.
It's so quiet. I find myself tiptoeing from one room to the other. On the ground floor, there's the kitchen, dining room, library, living room. I can't find any other outside doors except the ones that lead to the balcony and deck areas and the front door off the foyer.
There's no basement door, either, in spite of his joke this morning about keeping servants down below to drain their blood.
With a sick feeling, I find myself questioning if it was a joke. I almost retch at the thought that I might have been drinking David's blood. But a stronger, more virulent feeling overtakes the nausea. If Avery fed me David's blood, I'll kill him.
I've only been in two rooms upstairs, Avery's bedroom and the guestroom where Avery put my things. There are four other bedrooms up here, all expensively furnished in antiques, all tastefully appointed with drapes and carpets in muted earth tones. None of them look as if they've been used recently. In fact, all the closets are bare, the drawers empty. It's like walking through a designer showcase. Even the pictures on the dressers are fake—pretty frames with dime store photographs.
It dawns on me that there's nothing personal in Avery's bedroom either. I guess after hundreds of years, there's nothing personal left.
Is that what I have to look forward to?
I shake off the maudlin flood threatening to drown me and keep looking. At each end of the long hall that separates the bedrooms, there's a door. The one on the left leads to a back stairway. I follow it down to the kitchen. Then return to try the other one. It leads up. Evidently there's an attic.
The door at the top of these stairs is locked. I'm filled with apprehension. I press my ear to the door, but there's no sound. I knock and call out, “David?"
Nothing.
I put my shoulder against the door and shove. There's a splintering of wood and the door gives way. As soon as I step inside, I'm greeted with an unfamiliar odor—one of must and decay. Even not having to draw breath keeps me from gagging. It's a reflex. The atmosphere in the room is suffocating.
Cautiously, I look around, mouth open, trying to gauge the source of the smell. It seems to come from
a wall of chests, stacked near the top of the gables. As I approach, the smell gets stronger. Each chest looks different, but the size is pretty much the same.
A little bigger than an old fashioned steamer trunk. There are eight or nine, some made of wood with metal hinges rusted with age, some made of more modern materials with brass or plastic hinges.
The most modern looking of all is also the one nearest my grasp. It's a plain, wooden affair with shiny hinges. There's a picture painted on the top, a portrait of a girl with golden hair standing in a window. She looks about twenty and her smile is full of joy and youth. She has on an old fashioned jumper and her hair falls in luxuriant curls to her shoulders. The portrait is so lifelike, it could be a photograph instead of a painting.
Something compels me to open this trunk, to see what lies beneath such a charming picture. My hand shakes as I release the catch.
Before I see it, I know what it is . It's more than the odor, it's the feel of death. There are photographs inside, daguerreotypes brown with age, a lock of hair, a scrap of clothing.
And human remains.
A desiccated corpse that must have been lying here for years. Suddenly, I know why Avery said what he did the other night.
In the union between vampire and mortal, it's the vampire that suffers.
He was speaking from personal experience. I've found Avery's heart. Here in this attic, three hundred years of mortal lovers lost while the vampire continues unchanged and untouched by anything save this realization.
But there's another realization that hits me, too.
Like a knife in the chest.
David is not here.
Lawson either misunderstood or lied about his kidnapper being a vamp doctor.
And I've invaded Avery's privacy in a way I know he'll never forgive.
I don't know what to do. I retreat from the attic mausoleum, softly closing the ruined door behind me. Avery will know at a glance that someone has been here. The idea that he lives with the mortal remains of those he's loved should repulse me. Instead, I'm filled with sadness and foreboding. Sadness because he clings to all that's left of love lost, and foreboding because I'm afraid it reflects something of my own future. I know now it's not a casket filled with earth from the mother country a vampire carries with him from one place to the other.
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