Chapter 7
I had spent most of the day in memory, sitting quietly, motionlessly, considering my past. As I rose from my apartment couch, I noticed that the sun had already set. With scarcely a thought for what I was doing, I went upstairs and began to dress. I decided to abandon my normal black for this evening. Instead I pulled from the back of the wardrobe a dress I had made last year and never worn. It was a winter white velvet, with a scoop neck and a wide, full skirt. To liven it up I added a wide, red belt and a pair of red high heels. Surveying the results in the mirror, I was pleased with my appearance. The white seemed to brighten my hair and compliment my pale skin.
I left my apartment, locked the door and entered the office. The overpowering odor of roses filled the room and I smiled when I thought about Max. It was inevitable, I supposed, that I would have to see him again. Although he had never before attended one of my shows, he had sent the card back this time with a response of yes. If he did put in an appearance, it would be better to work out our problems before that night. After all, he had really done me no harm, and was responsible for my meeting Mitch. At the thought of his name, I gave a small sigh; how ironic it was that Max should be the one to introduce me, albeit indirectly, to someone who moved me as he had over twenty years ago. This time, however, I had no delusions about the outcome of any relationship with a human, and I had no intentions of changing Mitch, or anyone else, into a creature like me. The bitterness and hatred I felt for my unknown sire were still fresh and strong, even after all these years. I had no desire to foster the same emotions in someone I loved.
I called for a cab from the office phone and headed for the elevator. As I was closing the front door, the phone began to ring. I went back in to answer it.
“Deirdre, you’re still there.” At the sound of Mitch’s voice my heart gave a curious little jump.
“Hello, Mitch. I was just leaving.”
“Well, I can’t talk long anyway. I wanted to see you tonight, but Chris came into town today. How about dinner tomorrow night?” He sounded enthusiastic, boyish.
“I don’t know . . .” I began evasively.
“You have other plans?” he interrupted sharply.
“No, no I don’t.” God, I thought, how I hate to do this. Not only did I genuinely care about Mitch and want to see him again, he also provided me a chance to find the other vampire in the city. But he was dangerous, curious and quick–witted, and it would be too easy to fall in love with him. I could make my own investigations into the other of my kind easier than I could afford to begin a relationship with Mitch.
“It won’t work out between us, Mitch.” I tried to convince him as I tried to convince myself. “There is no way that it can.” I was sure that he could hear my voice wavering. “I am sorry.”
“Damn it all, Deirdre, you’re wrong and you know it. What we felt last night was real.” He paused for a long time, then continued, softly. “Give me a chance, please. Just one more night, and then if you still feel the same, I won’t bother you again. Scout’s honor.”
I could hear the teasing in his voice, thought of our conversations last night, how I had enjoyed his company. How in his arms I found a release from my existence, how he made me forget for a while my struggle with the lust for blood. How for a few seconds, in the pre-dawn streets of the city, I had been human again.
“Oh, what the hell. Pick me up at the hotel at eight.” Even as I said it, I knew instinctively that I had made the right decision. “But promise me, no more all-nighters. I have a busy weekend ahead of me.”
“I’ll be there. Oh, and Deirdre?” His voice acquired serious overtones.
“Yes?”
“You said you were on your way out. You aren’t going to see Max, are you?”
I lied. “No, I am not going to see Max. Why do you ask?”
“Well, the flowers and all that. He always seems to be lurking around in the background.” His voice took on a defensive note. “I can’t believe he’s not in the running, that’s all.”
“The running for what, Detective? I am not a trophy.”
“Sorry, Deirdre. I guess I’m a little insecure.”
“Only a little?” I snapped at him sarcastically. I could imagine the cold glint in his eyes and instantly regretted my harsh tone. “Mitch, you have no need to be,” I said gently. “I . . . I will see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
I stood for a while after he hung up, the phone cradled against my chest. Then I hung it up quietly and went to the lobby to catch my taxi.
The streets were crowded and the traffic heavy, so I stared out the window as we slowly made our way to the Ballroom. The idea that there may have been others of my kind prowling the streets was intriguing, and I studied all the people we passed in the hopes that I would find a sign of their presence. Not that I would recognize another from their appearance; the only way I could be sure would be to see them feeding. And surely, they would guard their secret as well as I did mine, by hunting cautiously and covering all evidence of their existence. But they had not done that. With the two corpses left behind, they had left a calling card for any with the wisdom to identify the facts. I wondered at those deaths; even at my most voracious, I had never killed. I must find the other, I thought. I could learn from him; perhaps I could find in him someone that could share my life.
The answers to my questions were not found in the streets. Everyone looked. normal, human and busily involved in themselves. When we stopped at a light, however, I noticed a familiar figure crossing in front of us. I hurriedly paid the driver and got out of the cab. My heels made a clacking sound on the sidewalk as I tried to reach him. Catching up with him, I gently touched his arm. He spun around and the snarl on his face changed into a smile of recognition. It seemed a genuine smile, not his customary sneer, and I knew that he had forgiven the harsh words and hasty action of our last meeting.
“Hello, Max. How have you been?” I gave him a small hug and was surprised to have it returned with fervor.
“Deirdre, I’m glad to see you.” He held me out at arms’ length and smiled at me again. “You look wonderful. Were you coming to see me? Or just prowling around?”
I looked up into his eyes; they were dark, fathomless. “Max, I never gave you a chance to explain about the police. I’m sorry about that. Now that I have had time to think, I realize it wasn’t your fault. At the time, I felt trapped; I thought you had turned me in to protect yourself and the club.”
“That would be a logical assumption on your part, my dear. After all, I suppose I could be considered an accessory to at least one of the murders, if you did them. Did you?” He had an odd expression on his face, a mixture of curiousity and indulgence, as if I were a young relative discovered in some small indiscretion.
“No, of course I didn’t. And even if I did, Max, I would hardly stand here on the street discussing it.” I looked up at his face, the lights of the street highlighting its sculptured lines and felt a surge of anger at his complacency, his distance. “Now you can answer a question for me. Why did you feel it was necessary to mention my name to the police in connection with Bill Andrews?”
“Deirdre, calm down. I could hardly deny it, when so many other people at the club saw the two of you together. And,” he added, justifying himself, “I did ask you to stay away for a while.”
“But you begged to me come that night, knowing that the police would be there.”
“I didn’t know they’d be there that night; they don’t really make appointments in advance, you know. And I thought that they had finished their questioning the previous night.” He reached over and touched my cheek. “Besides,” he added with a twisted smile, “can I help it if I just can’t do without your presence? I missed you.”
“Damn it, Max. It was only one night. You can quit your little game, now.” I had never been able to ascertain why Max did the things he did, now was not the time to start. And since the policeman in question was Mitch, he had really done me a favor of sorts. The anger drained away and I smiled up at him. “Anyway, it doesn’t really matter at this point. Shall we go?” I clasped his arm and we continued the walk to the club.
Larry stood guard at the front door and moved the crowd away so that we could enter. Max gave him a slight nod of greeting and I noticed how Larry’s bright smile darkened and his fists clenched. I had not given much thought to Larry since his visit to my hotel. Now all of the anger and confusion he had expressed that night came back to me; I regretted that he had gotten involved, even remotely, in the sordid events of my life.
“Damn,” I swore under my breath as Max propelled me down the hall toward his office. He lifted an eyebrow ever so slightly as he opened the door. I removed my coat and flung it over his couch while he opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses.
He handed one to me. “You look radiant, Deirdre. Maybe it’s the dress or the color? So virginal, so innocent; it should go over well with the police.” He drained his glass abruptly and poured another. His face reflected his normal cynicism with a small trace of excitement.
“I thought it was time for a change, Max. No one can stay the same forever.” I settled on the couch, demurely smoothing the velvet skirt.
“Not even you, my little vampire?” He came across the room to sit beside me and draped his arm carelessly on the edge of the couch, his fingers lightly grazing my shoulders. “No,” he said shaking his head. “You have changed. You seem more confident, more at ease. As if something has finally touched you, made you aware of yourself.”
A smile crossed my face and I thought of Mitch. I knew at that moment that I loved him. God help us both, I did love him and although it would go no further, I could still hold one warm time to my heart as I faced the loneliness and coldness of my unending life.
The change in my expression had not escaped Max’s attention. “Ah,” he said, leaning back, “it has happened then. I envy you this moment of revelation, my dear. Enjoy the exhilaration, it can make a life such as yours worthwhile indeed.” He clinked my glass in a silent toast and we sat companionably for a few minutes. Then he rose, setting his glass down, and stared down at me. “Just promise me two things, Deirdre.” He continued without waiting for my response. “Stay away from Larry. He asks more questions about you than he should. You do know that he is obsessed with you, don’t you?”
“I surmised that at our last meeting.”
“Only at your last meeting? I have known it for years; I’m surprised you’ve never noticed.” Max crooked an eyebrow and gave me a slight smile. “He’s been working here four years now and in all that time he’s never so much looked at another woman. To be truthful, I don’t think he’s ever had a woman.”
“I guessed that, too.”
He looked at me questioningly, then continued. “According to the other employees, he spends most of his free time at the library, or someplace like it. Doing research, he says, but nobody knows why or on what.”
I really didn’t care to know what Larry did. “So, maybe he’s a scholar. I can’t see that it matters much. But you could tell me what kind of questions he asks about me.”
“Where I met you, and how long ago, that sort of thing. He wanted to know your family background, whether you had ever married and how old you were.”
“And you told him?”
He smiled. “Rest assured, I gave him a varnished version. Nothing that could make him more suspicious of you. But he seems to know more than he should. Watch out.”
“I can’t think that he would be much of a threat, but I’ll steer clear of him.”
“Don’t underestimate him, my dear. He seems to be in a frantic state these days; I wouldn’t be surprised if he might decide to follow you on one of your nightly walks. There are things he should probably not see.”
I met his eyes firmly. “I said I’d stay away from him, Max. And the second promise?”
“No more dead bodies to be traced back here to the Ballroom. You may still feed here and I will continue to help, but be more careful. Neither you nor I need the hassle of police investigations.”
“Oh, it wasn’t all that bad.” Even to myself I sounded smug.
“Don’t be flippant about this,” he said angrily. “You walk a dangerous line, my dear, and I don’t want you to fall.”
“There is no need for you to remind me of the peril.” I grew angry at his continued patronizing and for once I decided not to let it alone. “I have lived with it since before you were born and, forgive me for saying so, I will do so after you are dead and buried.” Even as I said the words I wanted to take them back. Instead, I reached out and touched his hand in unspoken apology.
Unexpectedly, he threw his head back and laughed. “You don’t have to be afraid of mentioning my pitiful life span,” he said. “I have come to terms with it.” He pulled me to my feet and gave me a strong, affectionate hug. “So, then, it’s agreed? You’ll be more discreet and not leave any more bodies to be traced back here?”
“I am afraid I can make no guarantee of that, Max. You see, I did not kill Bill or anyone else. I don’t even know who the second victim is.”
“Oh, but you do. The girl was Linda, surely you remember her—the petite blonde, worked here as a waitress. I fired her several months ago for providing, shall we say, extra services to the customers.”
“Oh my God,” I exclaimed. I did indeed remember Linda, pretty little Linda who always had such a lost way about her. We had often sat together and talked on nights when the club was slow and I was not on the hunt. We had a common bond; I had for many years worked her profession.
“So you do remember her. It’s not really important, you know. What difference does one less tramp make to this city?”
“How can you say that?” I was horrified at his attitude. “Linda was a nice girl, just a little misled. I liked her.”
“Of course you did, my dear, just as you like all humans—food for the superior species. I told you before, it all makes no difference to me, just leave my club out of it.”
“But, Max, I didn’t kill them.”
“If not you, then who?”
“That is what I’d like to find out. Don’t you see what this whole thing means to me? Finally, I have proof that someone else like me exists. If I could find them . . .”
“You could swap stories about the old country, trade recipes, compare family trees?”
“Max, I am serious. This is important to me. I have searched so long for someone like me.”
“And when you find the mystery vampire, what do you do then?”
I thought for a long time. Although for most of my life, I had been waiting for just this situation, I was psychologically unprepared to face it. I shrugged, “I don’t really know. Maybe they could answer some questions for me; how I became what I am, what the scope of my powers are, and is the process reversible?”
“The chance of finding the person who changed you is probably not very good, Deirdre. And who else would be able to answer those questions?”
“Why would the chances be so bad? I have travelled around for over a century now; this is the first indication I have had that I’m not alone in my fate. I don’t exactly think the city is teeming with us; there would be more signs.”
Max gave me an intense look. “And when you finally confront your creator?”
“First I will ask him why. Then I will kill him.”
“I’m surprised at you. That intent makes no sense, coming from the woman, who only a few seconds ago was bewailing the death of a cheap little hooker. Don’t you see how unrealistic you are being?”
“Maybe I am. But that is the way I feel. And if given the chance, I will do it.” I smiled at him, cynically. “I do promise to be careful, though, so you need not worry about me.”
“Oh, I won’t. Now, let’s change the subject. Did you come only to see me or are you hungry?” He gave me a twisted smile and waited for my answer.
I glanced at him for a moment and then looked away. I wondered for the first time in our relationship, did he feel that I was using him? I hoped he knew me better than that. “Max, I came to make up for what went on last week. You must know that I . . .” With my realization of the love I felt for Mitch, the words I would have said blithely last week would not come. “. . . care for you deeply.” I hoped that the hesitation was not noticeable. “Now that apologies have been made and accepted and we’re back on familiar ground . . .” My voice trailed off and I looked at him for reassurance.
He gave me none, but walked to his desk and began to occupy himself with his silver–plated desk set, turning the letter opener over and over in his strong hands.
“Max,” I asked plaintively, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I was just thinking—silver for werewolves, wood for vampires.”
“What on earth?”
“Forgive me, my dear. You aren’t the only one who entertains morbid thoughts on occasion.” His voice grew thick with emotion, but when he looked into my eyes, I was surprised at his lack of expression. “Actually, what I was really thinking was that not too long ago you would have said you loved me.” Not hearing my small murmur of denial, he continued. “You have changed, you know. You are stronger, more self-sufficient than you were.” He set the letter opener down and walked around the desk to hold me. “I am happy it happened. I have been hoping for this day. It’s what I want most for you, for us. But I’ll miss the lonely little thing you were.”
Tears began to stream down my face, soaking into his coat. “Max, I do love you,” I began.
“Don’t waste it on me,” he interrupted. “I’m a heartless bastard as you are so fond of reminding me.” I looked up at his chuckle. “Besides, you’re ruining my jacket. Now tend to your makeup; I have someone I want you to meet.
From David Leigh’s walk it was apparent that he had spent a long time at the bar. He and Max seemed friendly; this in itself was unusual. But, when after the introductions, Max sat down at the table to have a drink with us it became obvious that this was not David’s first visit here. They discussed sports, football mostly, while I occupied myself with watching the dance floor. Finally, just as the conversation was turning to basketball, I looked up from the dancers and gave a long audible sigh.
“Deirdre, I’m so sorry,” Max apologized. “Dave is a long-time customer, he’s been coming here for years. We were just catching up a little.” He rose from the table and turned to go.
“See you soon, eh, Max.” Dave stood up and extended his hand.
“Count on it,” Max said, shaking his hand and clapping him on the shoulder. “Oh, and watch out for Deirdre, she’s a killer.”
“Very funny, Max,” I said dryly. “In that case, guard your neck. Now go and run your business.”
With a bow and a little mock flourish of his arm he left us alone.
“That old Max is one hell of a guy,” Dave said, watching him walk out of sight.
I grinned at him. “Hell is often one of the words that come to my mind.”
“I get the feeling I shouldn’t ask what any of the other words are.”
I nodded my head. “It’s best that way.”
“What was all that about killing and Max’s neck?”
I shrugged. “His idea of a joke in very poor taste, I’m afraid. I would really rather not discuss it.”
He smiled his agreement. “Well then, what do you want to talk about? I get the impression that sports is not your forte.”
“Tell me about yourself,” I prompted him with a smile.
He was an auditor from out of town, making frequent business trips and staying over here for about two weeks at a time, before moving on. He had struck up an acquaintance with Max five years ago and visited the Ballroom as often as possible. They had just hit it off, he explained, and became good friends over the years.
“I think he must know every important detail of my life. I always felt I could tell him anything, you know. And after a few drinks, I usually do.” He looked over at me and laughed. “But I guess you could tell that, huh?” He took another drink of his beer. “I know a lot about you, too.”
“Me?” I jumped, jostling my wine glass and spilling a few drops on the white linen cocktail napkin.
“Well,” he amended, “maybe not a lot. But Max has mentioned you a number of times. Your talent, your career, your looks.” At this last statement, he looked rather embarrassed. “I think I must have made a big deal out of being introduced to you. But now that it’s finally happened, well, I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what, Dave?” I asked, blotting up the drops of wine with my fingertip.
“Don’t get me wrong. You are everything he said, and more. It’s just that, well, I’m a big talker, in a lot of ways. I think Max must have misunderstood my intentions. I miss my wife and family while I’m on the road, and I do get lonely. But I wasn’t really looking for female companionship, if you get my meaning.”
“I do, indeed, Dave and there is no need for you to be embarrassed.” His confession made the whole situation easier for me. I had decided early on in our conversation not to feed on him. It didn’t seem right, since he was actually a good friend of Max’s. And I discovered that I actually liked Dave, not as a potential lover, but as a friend or a brother. “And, I’ll be honest with you; I was not looking for any involvement either. Although I am enjoying our conversation, you’re easy to talk to. Would you like to go somewhere quieter?” The band had returned from their break and the noise was deafening.
“Fine with me, Deirdre. It does get a bit loud, doesn’t it? Let me get another beer before we go.”
I grabbed his hand, stopping the gesture toward our waiter. “I’ll take care of that,” I said, rising from the table. “We can drink from old Max’s private stock. Come with me.”
It must have appeared to be the same old scenario to the staff. As we made our way past the bar I noticed quite a few knowing smiles; Max gave me a half salute as we passed by. I led the way down the hallway to the lounge area.
Once inside, Dave gave a whistle of approval. “Nice digs,” he said as he made his way to inspect the stock in the refrigerator. He selected an imported beer and settled on the couch. I sat in a chair a safe distance away; I wanted to stay as far from him as possible so that I would not be tempted to feed. It had been a week since I had taken blood and I needed it tonight. But it would not be his. We had been talking for some time when a knock on the door interrupted us. Because I had not planned to feed, I had not locked it. “Come in,” I called. “It’s open.”
Larry stood hesitantly in the doorway. “Deirdre,” he said, his face flushed, “there’s a, uh, a phone call for you.”
Dave gave a small shrug and picked up his jacket. “I’ve got to get going anyway. I have an important meeting first thing tomorrow morning.” He came over to me and made a move to shake my hand. “I enjoyed meeting you and hope to see you again.”
I avoided his hand and stretched up to kiss his cheek. Larry stiffened and then relaxed as Dave walked to the door.
“Wait,” I said to Dave and walked over to him, laying my hand on his arm. I rummaged around in my purse and came up with a small, crumpled card. “Next time you are in town, stop by my office. Bring your wife, she can pick out anything in the shop she would like.”
“Thanks. I think she’d like that. Good night.”
“Good night, Dave.” I smiled. “You take care.”
He made his exit and I looked at Larry who had stood silent during our conversation. “Well,” I said sternly, “what’s this about a phone call?”
He hung his head and would not meet my eyes. “There’s no phone call,” he admitted.
“Then why on earth did you interrupt us? That was a close friend of Max’s. We were just getting acquainted. What’s the problem, Larry?”
“Deirdre,” he said quietly and made a step toward me. His arms hung limply at his sides; his hands clenched and unclenched in nervousness. “I just wanted him to leave.”
“Why?”
“You lied to me,” he began, “when you said that all of this was over. You made me believe that you and I could be together. Then I see you and Max come in tonight like old friends. And when I took my break, all the guys were joking about it; about how, only a week after that guy was killed, you were at it again.” His voice broke in anger.
“At what, Larry?” I asked softly and urgently as I stared into his eyes. “What do they say about me?”
He fidgeted under my gaze but the contact held. “They say you’re Max’s whore.” He spat the last word at me in a defiant gesture and sat down on the couch.
I moved next to him and stroked his hair. “Larry, that is not true. I don’t work for Max, nor do I belong to him. What I do, I do for myself. Can you understand that?”
“I understand, better than you think, Deirdre,” he said, shaking his head. “I know you’re not what you seem to the others. But I don’t like them to say those things about you; it demeans you. They shouldn’t be allowed to say those things; if they only knew you like I do, they wouldn’t.”
Max was right about Larry, I knew—he was obsessed with me, but I saw no harm in him. I just couldn’t believe he would do anything to hurt me. “Poor kid,” I whispered to myself and held him in my arms.
Eventually he pulled himself out of his despondency and raised his head. His eyes seemed to glow with strong emotion. “Don’t hate me,” he begged. “I love you.”
“Why would I hate you?”
“Because I’m weak and inferior and I have no control . . . because I can’t stop myself from . . . hating all the others.”
“Jealousy is a normal reaction,” I assured him. “And love and hate are strong at twenty–five. How could I hate you for being what you are?” I got up from beside him and moved to the chair I sat in previously. “Larry, I want to be honest with you; I also want to be kind. In this situation I cannot be both. What do you want from me?”
“I want you to love me back,” he said in a choked voice, sounding at least ten years younger than he was. “I want to be with you forever.”
I gave him a sharp glance. “Why do you say forever? Nothing lasts forever.”
Although his head was down, his eyes glinted up at me. “That’s what people say who love each other, I’ll love you forever, they say. And I will.”
I shook my head and mastered the impulse I had to comfort him again. It would do no good. Instead, I looked him coldly in the eye. “I can’t do that, Larry. If you wanted a friend, a sister, even a one-time lover . . .” His eyes glittered angrily. “. . . I could give you that. But I cannot return the gift of your love. I am sorry.”
He rose slowly from the couch and squared his shoulders. Methodically, he walked to the door and reached for the knob. His hand stopped, he spun around and confronted me. “You are what they say.” His voice was awful in its quietness and its rage. “No, you’re worse than they say. I know what you are and who you are, Dorothy,” he hissed the name at me and I recoiled. “Hell can’t come too soon for you. But before that, I will get what I want.” He softened a bit and reached out to stroke my cheek. “I would have been good to you. I could protect you, take care of you, give you anything you ask, give you all you require.” He licked his lips. “And I know what you require. But, no, you say you can’t, you’re sorry. You will be sorry one day, I’m sure.” He pulled away abruptly, making his brief touch feel like a slap, and left the room.
I stood staring at the door and raised my hand to my burning cheek. “Dear God,” I said in the emptiness of the room. “What does he know about me? How could he know the truth?” I had to find Max, discover exactly what he had told Larry. Maybe he had mentioned my original name, saying that I had changed it for professional reasons. Larry could know nothing about me, I rationalized, and even if he guessed at the truth, who would believe him? Unless, of course, he was the vampire doing the killing. I dismissed that idea almost as soon as I thought it; it seemed too unlikely. Surely I would feel some sort of rapport with another of my kind, some recognition, some spark would flow between us. And as for his being my transformer, that could never be. I would know him.
I gathered my belongings and went to Max’s office where I had left my coat. I was surprised to discover his office was empty and the lights were out. I stared for a while at his desk, then, on impulse, turned to the employee directory. Finding Larry’s name, I wrote down his address and phone number, folded the paper and carefully put it into my purse. If things got too hot, if he really did know something, I would have to take action against him. Shuddering slightly as the thought of what action I could take, I left the office and closed the door.
Walking slowly through the bar, I studied the faces of the patrons at the tables, hoping to find Max drinking with David Leigh. They were not there. But when I questioned the bartender, he shrugged and said that Max was probably around somewhere. Did I want him paged? I nodded and turned away, pulling on my black leather gloves while surveying the tables and the dance floor.
“Miss Griffin?” The bartender beckoned me with a smirk. “No answer from Max. But if you’re looking for your other friend, he left just a few minutes ago. Maybe you can catch up with him.” His manner was unpleasant, sneering and I swallowed the urge to slap him across the face.
“Thank you,” I replied with a false grin, while looking him deep in the eyes. He shifted uncomfortably until I dropped my gaze. “I might just do that. Please tell Max that I need to speak with him as soon as possible. Good night.”
When I got out to the street, I saw no one I knew—there was no sign of Max, Larry or David Leigh. Just as well, I decided, if I couldn’t find Max, I was in no mood for conversation with anyone else. Right now, I needed to find a victim so that I could be fed and rejuvenated before I met Mitch tomorrow.
The streets were full of people: couples, singles and large groups, bundled up against the evening air, their laughter rising up in billowy puffs. It was still relatively early and a Saturday. I would need to find a less populated street. After wandering aimlessly for a while, I found myself admiring for once the displays in store windows. The normally angry thought of celebrating yet another Christmas was softened now by images of spending the time with Mitch. I smiled so broadly about the idea that a couple I passed were shocked into returning my smile. With a half-embarrassed nod they hurried away on their business, reminding me suddenly of my own purpose tonight. My smile died, and I walked on with more determination.
Three blocks past the club, I turned into a side street. I could sense someone’s presence at the end of this alley and went forward eagerly to meet them. He was sleeping and took no notice of me as I settled down next to him, pushed the baby–fine blonde hair away from his neck and fed.
When my teeth pierced his neck he stirred, moaned and went back to his fitful sleep. Not even my withdrawal awoke him. As always, when I had finished I checked his pulse and found it strong.
I turned to walk away, when I actually looked at him. What I saw was pathetic. Dressed only in ragged jeans and a lightweight shirt; he wore shoes, but no socks, and was shivering uncontrollably in his sleep. He seemed no more than fifteen or sixteen, most likely a recent runaway for he was better fed than some I had seen. He would survive the feeding, I felt sure, but the cold would kill him. Shaking my head, I took off my coat and removed the label by tearing the lining with my still sharpened teeth. Wrapping the fur gently around him, I tucked some money into his shirt pocket. Oddly enough the warmth woke him, and he stared at me out of eyes that belied his years, eyes shadowed with fear and despair.
“You will be all right,” I whispered confidently to him. He answered me with an angelic grin that almost made up for his desperate eyes. “There’s a shelter just two down blocks down the street,” I pointed in the right direction. “Go there for tonight. I have given you some money; do you have a home to go back to?”
He nodded, getting to his feet slowly, my coat still draped around him. He made a move to take it off, but I stopped him.
“Keep it,” I urged, “and get a bus ticket for home tomorrow. Don’t spend another night on the streets, please.” I began to walk away.
“Lady?” he called after me and I turned back to face him. “Thank you.” He smiled his choir boy smile again. I nodded to him and watched as he went in the direction I had shown him. His walk was youthful and strong, and I was confident that the small price I had extracted from him would not matter. His blood had had no taint of drugs or alcohol; if he took my advice, he would survive this night of cold and vampirism with no more than a small mark on his neck and a warm memory of someone who had helped him recover his life.
I lingered on the streets no longer, but returned to the office. I worked on the upcoming show throughout the night and at dawn retired to my apartment. The feeding had sated me physically and I felt uplifted from my contact with the boy. I slept dreamlessly, to awaken Sunday evening, as the sun was setting.
I lay in bed for some time, savoring, as always, the feelings of youth and strength that followed a feeding. The darkness and quiet of the room enveloped me, calming the nerves tortured by the past few weeks. I wanted to lay there forever, avoiding the world outside. Next time, I thought languidly, I will choose a more peaceful life. I had accumulated enough money to make it possible, for at least a few decades, to live somewhere with no job, no commitments, no complicated relationships.
“Oh, God,” I said sitting upright in bed and reaching for my contacts. “I forgot I have to meet Mitch.” I hurriedly consulted the clock, it was only a little before seven. I would have time to get back to the hotel and dress before he picked me up. I threw on some jeans and a shirt and ran down the spiral staircase. I put on my boots and searched the closet for a coat to replace the one I had given away. I put on the first one I found; it was an ankle length black velvet cape. I seldom wore it, even for me the effect was too theatrical. It flapped annoyingly around my legs as I rushed down the hall to the elevators. I burst into the lobby, called a quick good–night to the startled guard and sped to the hotel.
When I reached the front door, I was only a little breathless and was happy to see that it was just turning seven. I slowed down, and entered the revolving door.
Frank was at the desk and jumped a bit at my entrance. “Hello, Frank,” I said gaily. “How have you been?”
He stared at me uncomprehendingly at first, then said, “Fine. Uh, Miss . . .”
“I really am in a hurry, Frank,” I interrupted. “If someone named Greer stops in for me, send him up, please. Thanks so much.” Without a pause, I headed for the elevators, when a hand on my arm stopped me. I spun around and found myself facing two uniformed policemen. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”
The taller of the two spoke. “Are you Deirdre Griffin?” At my nod he continued. “We’d like you to come with us, if you would. We have some questions to ask you concerning a recent homicide.”
“Recent homicide?” I repeated stupidly. “But I have already told Detective Greer everything I knew about Bill Andrews.”
“Not Andrews this time. We have a new one.”
“A new one?” I felt a sudden stab of fear. Although I was not the killer, I had known the other two victims. If this third one was also known to me, it could create a very uncomfortable situation. One night in jail, followed as it would be, by the rising sun, and I would be dead; the fact that I was innocent would not matter then. I should have left town as soon as Bill Andrews died; instead I had stayed around, playing human, and this was where it got me. “Damn,” I swore softly under my breath and glanced over at Frank as if in appeal. He looked away and busied himself at the hotel register.
“That’s right, Miss Griffin.” The policeman gave me what I thought was a chilling smile. “And we have reason to believe you can help with identification. Come with us, please.”
And although it was not the police escort I had expected that evening, I accompanied them to the station.