“Was she—is she like her brother?”
“A sadist and suicidally reckless to boot? Not so far as I could tell, but as I said, I’ve never seen much of her. I didn’t care for her style. Why?”
Roger repeated what Volnar had said in the previous night’s long-distance conversation.
Claude frowned into his mug. “Bloody hell! That explains why she dropped out of sight about the time Neil—died. No, I didn’t hear about her imprisonment, or I certainly would have told you. Twins are close, that’s to be expected, so I can understand she’d bear a grudge against you, but to make threats wild enough to get herself condemned to that —Can’t be sure what effect the punishment had on her. It might have cooled her off—or it could have changed her personality for the worse.”
“What do you know about her?”
Claude took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Aside from a few casual meetings, I visited her apartment near San Francisco once. Happened to be in the area for a film, and she invited me to join her regular weekly soiree. At that time, she had a select circle of acquaintances—human—that she had over for sedate parties. Sedate until the end, that is.”
“Well, what did she do? Host orgies?”
“Hardly. She accepted donations.”
Roger stared at him. “Are you saying these people knew what she was?”
“No, that was the clever bit. She posed as a blood fetishist.”
“Say what?” Britt exclaimed.
“That’s right, she professed to be a blood fetishist who enjoyed playing the role of a vampire. Held court in a crimson-lined black cape with ghastly white makeup, the whole stereotype. She’d built up a stable of followers who got a kick out of enacting their vampire fantasies by giving her a few ounces of blood. She made sure she rotated the privilege, never taking from one donor too often, to minimize the chance of addiction.” Claude shook his head, chuckling. “Damned ingenious, I must admit. But I left as soon as the fun started. She’d invited me to partake and couldn’t fathom why I declined.”
“Why did you?” said Britt.
“It may have been all very well for her, but I had to think of my reputation. Suppose I’d been recognized, and one of the tabloids had picked it up? Besides, exhibitionism makes me uncomfortable. It can backfire so readily.”
Roger marveled that Claude didn’t class his own flamboyant film career as exhibitionism. “So she enjoys manipulating people and taking risks,” he said. “If the—punishment—hasn’t cooled off her rage over Sandor’s death, she probably won’t hesitate to come after me.”
“If she’s got any sense, she’ll forget the whole thing and enjoy her freedom. Volnar and the Council won’t aggressively pursue her unless she causes trouble.”
Britt thoughtfully leaned her chin on her clenched fists. “I can’t believe she’d let it go without a fight. The sibling bond is important, isn’t it? And you said twins are especially close. She sees Roger as her brother’s murderer, I suppose.”
Roger felt Britt’s eyes, shadowed with apprehension, on him. “Well, now that we’re forewarned, she won’t take us by surprise. And in any case, there’s nothing I can do until Camille shows herself. More immediately, what about Gillian?”
“You think there’s anything you can do about her?” Britt said.
Claude emptied his mug and replaced it on the tray. “We’ll have to. The longer she stays in Greer’s hands, the more likely she’ll end up giving him information about our species. Remember, she’s only a child, and at a vulnerable stage.”
“He already knows more than he should,” Roger said. “More than he did when he forced his way in here, I think. He used garlic against her, and he wasn’t too paralyzed with fear to take a shot at you.”
Britt nodded. “Interesting point. How did he make such good guesses—or get so well informed so fast?” She stood up to collect the empty cups.
“We do know some things about him,” Roger said. “Not only his appearance and where he comes from, but the description and license number of his car.”
Balancing the mugs on the tray, Britt said, “You’re thinking of Captain Hayes?” She alluded to their contact in the county homicide division.
“If approached the right way, he might be able to track down Greer’s present whereabouts. Or where he’s officially staying, at the very least.”
“Yes, and Hayes did say he owed us for our prompt, detailed report on that suspect the other day, didn’t he?” She left to take the used cups downstairs.
“Police?” Claude frowned dubiously.
“If we do ask for his help, of course we won’t tell him why,” said Roger. “We’ll put it as a favor.”
Claude tried to push himself into a sitting position, grimacing at the strain on his wound.
“Careful! Didn’t I warn you not to do that?”
“Well, I need to get up now. Damn, I hate feeling helpless! Remind me not to get shot again in the near future.”
As much as Roger sympathized with Claude’s feelings, he didn’t let his brother attempt to stand without support. An attack of vertigo convinced Claude that Roger had reason on his side. In the bathroom Roger helped Claude with a sketchy wash at the sink, cut short because of the patient’s limited strength.
Back in bed, he said, “When do I get a shower?”
“Tomorrow, if you’re lucky.”
Britt reappeared. “We have to go see Eloise soon. Are you planning to phone Captain Hayes first?”
“Probably you ought to do that. My special ability is useless over the telephone, and he likes you better than he likes me.”
“Now that I can understand,” Claude put in. “She does everything she does so consummately well. If I weren’t committed elsewhere, I’d challenge you for her.”
Roger was dismayed to feel a growl rising in his throat.
“Take it easy, little brother, I said if.” His mocking smile faded. “Damn, I can’t imagine life without Eloise. Does she honestly think I don’t care? Can she blame me that my grief isn’t as intense as hers?”
Britt stepped over to the bed to clasp his hand. “I know she’ll see things clearer when the hurt isn’t so sharp.”
“Maybe,” said Claude. “How can I get through to her? She’ll mistrust any overture I make as manipulative.”
“If necessary, I’ll talk to her later.” Sensing Claude’s discomfort at baring his emotions to her, Britt withdrew to make the phone call to Captain Hayes.
“If you insist on chaining me to this bed for the night,” Claude said, “how about bringing me something to read?”
“Certainly.” Roger went down to the office to gather a selection of books. He found Britt re-dialing; obviously she’d had to call Hayes at home.
Roger overheard Hayes’ friendly tone shift in the direction of caution after Britt detailed her request. “Doctor, I’m due to retire next year. You wouldn’t want to screw up my pension, would you?”
“It’s a simple thing to ask,” said Britt in a more persuasive manner than she’d ever bother to use with Roger. “You can run a check unofficially, just to find out where this man is staying. He must be registered at a local hotel.”
“Unofficially—sure. How do I explain it if somebody happens to notice this unofficial inquiry?” Hayes’ long-suffering voice indicated that he didn’t expect an answer. “You won’t tell me why you want to find this Adam Greer person?”
“Sorry, I can’t. It’s confidential. Come on, how often have Roger and I asked you for favors?”
“Want me to start counting?” In fact, they’d seldom had occasion to use their police contacts this way, so Hayes’ protest lacked force.
“He’s a sociology professor at William and Mary, probably between forty and fifty years old, brown hair and beard with some gray. I don’t know about his eyes.” She described the van and dictated its license number to the officer. “All I want is the word on where he’s staying, or was staying last. Roger and I need to talk to him.”
> “Something to do with a patient?”
“It’s confidential,” Britt repeated. The word would reinforce Hayes’ assumption that her concern was medical. “Didn’t you remark just the other day that you owed us one?”
“Guess I did,” the officer sighed. “Okay, I’ll see what I can dig up. Now, could I get back to my dinner?”
After telling him to call Roger’s number with the information, Britt thanked him and hung up. “Colleague, we could’ve made that simpler by telling him Greer has been harassing you.”
“Not with Gillian to consider. If the police discovered her in Greer’s clutches, they might get some idea of why he captured her—her unusual qualities. And if they arrested the man, for either harassment or kidnapping, they’d wonder why I declined to press charges.”
“Which you couldn’t—same problem about exposing Gillian’s true nature.” Britt shook her head, running her fingers through her unbound golden-bronze hair. “This secret identity of yours makes some things unnecessarily complicated.”
“Secret identity?” he dryly repeated. He took her into his arms, no longer able to resist the comfort she offered. “If I were Superman, dear colleague, I wouldn’t have most of these problems.” He felt her drooping with fatigue as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “You need to rest.”
“Shouldn’t. I slept half the day.”
“With Claude continuously drawing on your reserves. I didn’t realize it had been such a drain on you.”
“I don’t mind. A good night’s sleep will fix it, isn’t that what you always say?” She straightened up. “Let’s go see Eloise. She’s the one who needs help.”
Chapter Seven
HANDCUFFS CHAFED GILLIAN’S wrists and ankles. To minimize the discomfort she had stopped struggling an hour previously. To keep the van’s motion from aggravating her residual nausea, she stared out the window at the eddying snow. Deep breathing might have helped, but she inhaled as little as possible because of the garlic grains that clung to her shirt.
She’d temporarily resigned herself to her inability to break the shackles. They must be made of some extra-tough alloy. Greer was thorough. About a mile away from Roger’s place, the professor had pulled over to cuff Gillian’s ankles together. Then he’d used another two pairs of cuffs to fasten her to the legs of the van’s middle seat by her hands and feet. Lying on her side, free to do no more than squirm in place, she noticed Greer glancing back at her every few minutes. Probably, Volnar could have broken these bonds. Maybe Claude or Roger—she had her doubts. She herself couldn’t. Once convinced, she decided to conserve energy for later.
The vision of Claude falling beneath Greer’s bullet haunted her. If a mature vampire could so easily be struck down by this mere mortal, what chance did she have?
Screaming never occurred to her. In the unlikely event that someone in the passing traffic heard her cries, the potential rescuer would be human. And exposing herself to human view was what had caused this disaster. At his destination, Greer would have to unfasten her, and by then her strength would have returned.
Once, when he stole a glance at her, she asked him where they were going. He hastily turned his eyes back to the windshield. Her abraded nerves felt his trepidation. So he was afraid to meet her gaze? That realization gave her a scrap of confidence.
Glimpses through the window showed her trees and an occasional overpass. Linking those observations with the car’s speed, she concluded they were driving along a freeway. When the van braked and lurched around a curve, she knew they’d taken an exit and must therefore be reaching the end of the trip. Though the snow had almost stopped, the professor peered anxiously through the windshield and muttered a curse now and then. Several times the tires slid on patches of ice. Inadequately cleared back roads, Gillian guessed. She made no conscious attempt to memorize the turns, which would imprint themselves on her brain without effort. In any case if she managed to escape, she wouldn’t need to follow roads. Her innate directional sense would lead her straight to Roger’s home across whatever terrain intervened.
Roger—how long would it take him to find her? Or would he bother searching? And how badly hurt was Claude?
After a while, Greer parked the van and got out, taking the keys with him. With the motor off, the windows quickly fogged. Gillian made her arm and leg muscles go limp, trying to ease the cramps from lying for over an hour in this unnatural position. Shortly, the professor reappeared, carrying a key and a grocery bag.
“We’re almost there,” he said. “Sorry I had to leave you that way for so long.” He sounded sincere.
He started the engine and turned the heater on again. She wished he had left it off; the warm air blowing at her from the floor vents distressed her already unsettled stomach. A few minutes later, he stopped once more. By the decisive way he pocketed the ignition keys, she knew they’d arrived.
“Where are we?”
Stooping a bit, he stood over her. “What difference does it make? Somewhere we won’t be bothered. Excuse me a minute.” He got out of the car. Gillian heard wind but saw no more snow falling.
When Greer came back and knelt beside her, she bared her teeth at him. “I’m going to let you walk now,” he said. “You won’t give me any trouble, will you?” He switched the handcuff keys to his left hand and drew the gun from his belt with his right hand.
“You wouldn’t kill me,” she said. “I wouldn’t be able to answer your questions then.”
“No, but I could shoot to disable, and you wouldn’t like that, either.” His expression softened. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you. Knowledge, that’s all I’m after. This,” he gestured at the cuffs, “is only to protect myself.” He gingerly leaned over to unlock the shackle attaching her arms to the bench leg. His eyes shifted, as if he saw something in her face that scared him. “On second thought, I’d better let you shuffle along with your feet locked together. Don’t worry, I won’t make it worse on you than I have to.”
She watched him fumble with the other cuffs, until she was free of the seat’s frame but still hobbled. The gun’s muzzle never pointed away from her. “Now I’m going to pull you upright,” he said. “You will cooperate, won’t you?”
Gillian slumped, feigning even more dejection than she felt. For the moment, let him think her utterly tamed.
WHEN ROGER AND Britt stepped off the elevator at the OB/GYN ward and checked in at the desk, he paused to lock eyes with the nurse on duty. “Please see that we have complete privacy during our visit.”
The nurse acknowledged the command with a dazed nod. Satisfied, Roger took Britt’s arm for the walk around the corner to Eloise’s room. Not that his associate needed guidance—rather, he needed support himself. Sheltering within the circle of Britt’s aura and clinging to her warm flesh gave him some armor against the pain, the tumultuous emotions, and the chemical odors of the hospital. In the distance his inhuman ears picked up the wailing of babies in the nursery.
Eloise had been assigned a private room well removed from the new mothers and their infants. The visitors found her slouched on the bed watching television, with pillows wedged behind her. She clicked off the remote control and removed her glasses when Roger and Britt walked in. “What’s wrong with Claude?” she asked at once.
“It’s sort of complicated. But he’ll be fine.” Britt leaned over to hug her gingerly, while Roger pulled the door shut. “How do you feel?”
Eloise shrugged. “Physically okay. Thank goodness they’re letting me out tomorrow morning.”
Grazing the edges of her consciousness, Roger found that she was telling the truth about the absence of bodily pain. Her emotional numbness, though, disturbed him. “We’ll pick you up, of course.” After placing the room’s single chair by the bed for Britt, he leaned against the window sill. “Would you like to come to my home rather than the Hilton?”
“Yes, thanks. Might as well stop by there to check us out, since we’re registered at the convention hotel starting tomorrow
night.”
“You’re still going?” said Britt.
“Why not? I’m capable, and it’ll take my mind off—everything.” She straightened up, a stubborn light in her eyes. “Besides, I’ve never reneged on a commitment in my life. And I don’t want to have to explain why. Questions, stares, pity from strangers—no thanks. Now are you going to tell me what the heck happened to Claude, or do I start throwing pitchers and trays?”
Heartened by the tiny smile that accompanied this threat, Roger said, “You recall Gillian’s mentioning Adam Greer, the man who gave her a ride? He came back last night and abducted her.” He kept his voice low for fear of chance listeners in the hallway. “Claude surprised him in the act, and Greer shot him.”
With a stifled gasp Eloise pressed her knuckles against her mouth.
Britt patted her other hand. “Listen, it’s all right. He’s recovering normally.”
“What about Gillian? Roger, aren’t you doing anything?” She choked on a sob, then gave up and let the tears flow.
Britt put her arms around Eloise until the upsurge of grief wore itself out. Roger answered Eloise’s accusing stare with the same explanation he’d given Britt earlier.
Eloise nodded acceptance, though her doubts remained obvious. “No wonder Claude didn’t push too hard for closer contact, the rat! Did he think he could keep me from knowing?”
“He didn’t want you to worry.”
Eloise stared vaguely for a few seconds. When she focused on Britt again, she said, “I guess he doesn’t sound too bad. You took care of him. Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” said Britt.
Eloise looked over at Roger. “You, too. I know what it meant to you. He needed someone, and I couldn’t be there.”
“Tomorrow you can. He needs you,” said Roger. He couldn’t help sympathizing more with Claude, though he hurt for both of them.
She swallowed a couple of times, as if fighting a fresh outburst of tears. “I want to open up to him, but it’s not that simple. After last night, I don’t trust his feelings or mine. Any emotion he shows to me could be manipulation. After all, he’s an actor, on top of the other thing.”
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