Hunger

Chapter 26

When I woke, Mitch was not in bed. I got up, wrapped a robe around me, and opened the closed bedroom door cautiously. There was no natural sunlight in the hall, so I guessed it would be safe to venture farther. Mitch was in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a box of papers. “Good morning,” I said, my voice dull and lethargic. He turned to me, smiled, and I asked, “What time is it?”

“A little before four. Sunset’ll be soon, but you can sleep more if you like.”

“No, I’m awake now. But how about you? You should be tired. You were awake practically all night also.”

Mitch shrugged, running his fingers through his hair. “I haven’t yet adjusted to sleeping all day. I guess it’ll come in time. How’d you manage?”

“I had no choice, remember? It was not a conscious decision to become nocturnal. And you have no reason to adjust to it.”

“No, maybe not.” His voice was calm, noncommittal, consciously avoiding, I thought, this particular issue that would need to be dealt with eventually. I welcomed the development with relief, not needing another argument to further complicate our lives. Maybe this was how we would survive, avoiding the painful subjects completely until they became unimportant.

“Deirdre.” Mitch’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Would you like some coffee?” He stood up, and at my nod went into the kitchen and brought out a full mug.

I sat down on the couch, taking a sip, and looked at the papers strewn on the floor. “What is all this?”

Mitch sat back down on the floor at my feet. “I stopped over at the station today and picked up the personal files they had kept for me in storage. It’s been so long, it seems much longer than two years, and I thought I’d refresh my mind on some of the details of the Vampire Killer case. Thought maybe I could find something in here you could use in your defense.”

“And?”

“Nothing yet, but who knows? The next page may just be what we need. I won’t let them hurt you, Deirdre.”

I sat silently and sipped my coffee. When I finally spoke, my voice sounded far away. “I had another dream.”

“Max again?”

I shuddered. “Yes. This one was so real, so horrible. They’re not frightening in content, but they utterly terrify me. In the dream I become a part of him, and it robs me of my self. Robs me of my defenses, of any feelings for him but sympathy and love.”

Mitch looked at me questioningly, and I continued. “It’s strange. I hated him for so long, never completely understanding him. But now that he’s dead, I know him so much better. And when I wake, I feel empty, almost as if I’ve been torn in half.”

Mitch reached over and stroked my leg, then laid his head on my thigh. Idly, I ran my fingers through his hair. “I just don’t understand any of this situation with Max. Will I have to live with it for the rest of my life? I’m not sure I can handle that; eternity is too long anyway.” Then I laughed a little. “Did you know that Sam thinks it’s all my imagination, that I’ve invented the entire situation to alleviate my loneliness, my guilt?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said dryly, “and he thought I was crazy too.”

I nodded. “I guess he can’t always be right. But he sounded so sure, so authoritative.”

“Forget about Sam.” There was only a slight tinge of jealousy in his voice. “He can’t really help you. But you should ask someone else about it, someone who might be able to give you an answer that makes sense. Victor Lange, maybe, or your attorney.”

“Maybe I will.”

Mitch went back to sorting his papers, methodically putting them into small stacks, glancing at each page. “Well,” he said, waving one particular sheet in the air, “this one doesn’t belong with the rest.” He went to put it into a separate pile, then stopped and read it in more detail. “Son of a bitch, I don’t remember this at all.” He shook his head slightly as if to clear it, then looked up at me, an odd expression on his face.

At the mention of the name, I shivered as always. “What about him?”

“Nothing much, and it’s not really that unusual. Sometimes they just lose track of the final disposition papers.” He read it again, slowly and thoroughly. “That must be what happened.”

“What do you mean, Mitch, final disposition papers?” A cold stab of fear entered my abdomen. Vaguely I remembered the familiar face on the Ballroom dance floor. Was I destined to be haunted by everyone I touched? “Larry too?” I wasn’t really aware that I had spoken it out loud.

“Larry too, what?”

“Nothing.”

“Well,” he said, giving me a questioning look, “I’m sure it’s just an oversight. After all, he was dead. He couldn’t have just gotten up and walked away.”

“Are you sure?” My voice trembled. Larry’s death had been nagging at me for years; something didn’t seem right.

“Of course I’m sure. I shot him, remember? He was dead, all right. I suspect they shipped his body out to his next of kin and just forgot to fill out the forms. Sloppy practice, but it happens all the time.”

“If you say so, Mitch.” His words reassured me only slightly, but I did have other worries to occupy my mind. “Did anyone call?”

“No, you expecting someone?”

“I thought maybe Ron would set up an appointment to talk about my case.”

“Deirdre, it’s not sunset yet. He’s probably still sleeping.”

“Oh, yes, I forget.” I laughed gently. “I still don’t quite believe that he’s like me. That any of them are like me. I’ve been alone in my species for so long. I wish I had known that they existed years ago.”

“I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because, if you’d known others of your kind, you’d never’ve fallen in love with me.” He sounded a bit defensive when he said it. I looked at him for a long time, studying the lines of his face, the strength of his shoulders, saying nothing. I wanted to imprint him on my mind so that after he was dead I would never forget the fineness of him.

“What?” He smiled tentatively at me, seemingly unnerved by my stare.

“None of them could ever compare with you, Mitch my love.”

“No?” He ducked his head a bit, and busied himself with his papers to hide his pleased grin.

“No.” I got up from the couch, went over to him, and sat next to him on the floor, taking his hand in mine and holding it up to my cheek. “Let’s do this paperwork later and take advantage of the time we have now.”

By the time Ron called, we were out of the shower. And when he finally knocked at the door, we were dressed and composed, although I was perhaps smiling more than someone accused of murder should have been.

“Hello, Greer.” Ron shook Mitch’s hand at the door and walked in. He nodded at me where I sat on the couch. “Deirdre.”

“Would you like a cup of coffee, Ron?”

He set his briefcase on the top of Mitch’s desk and opened it. “I actually prefer tea, if you have it.”

I moved to get up, but Mitch stopped me. “I’ll get it, Deirdre. You stay here.”

I heard him running the tap and filling the teakettle. Ron removed a sheaf of papers and sat down on the chair opposite me. “Before we get started,” Ron said with a wary glance at the kitchen, “I’d sort of like to apologize for my involvement in this whole affair. It’s not actually my sort of thing, threatening people with guns, spying on them, you know. But Victor calls the shots, and although he seldom abuses it, his power within The Cadre is absolute. I’m too new to the life to be able to make waves.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me, Ron.” I lowered my voice to a level that I thought Mitch could not hear. “I just wish that I had known the kind of games you were playing those nights we spent together.”

“I resent that, Deirdre. And it’s not really what you think. True, I was under orders to keep you under surveillance, but I had absolutely no idea why, or even who you were. I thought maybe you were being considered for admittance to The Cadre, or were romantically involved with a member. I didn’t actually realize who you were until that night in the Ballroom, when you told me you were Max’s heir. But no one asked me to seduce you into my confidence. I liked you, and”—he gave me a sharp look—“as I remember, you were more than willing.”

I felt my cheeks redden, from embarrassment and anger. “But that was only because I didn’t know what you were. You weren’t entirely honest with me and you had me at a disadvantage. And the other night, you could have told me what you were.”

“And you could have told me.”

“But you already knew everything about me. You lied to me through your silence, and you betrayed my trust in you.”

He gave me a hard, quelling look. “No more than you did. Imagine my surprise on finding you married to a man you were never going to see again.”

“But you told him where I was.”

“Yeah, I did.” Ron stared at me for a moment, then shrugged. “Look, Deirdre, we could talk about this all night, but we’d get nowhere. It’s over and done with, so let’s try to forget it and go on.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” I agreed. “So, what’s on your agenda for tonight?”

He handed me a set of papers. “ ‘The Establishment of The Cadre,’ ” he read, “ ‘and the Laws and Rules Thereof.’ ”

The teakettle whistled, and Mitch called out, “Water’s ready. How do you want it?”

“Plain will be fine, thanks.”

“And how about you, Deirdre? Do you want more coffee?”

“Just bring the pot out, Mitch, and join us. You don’t need to play host all night. I’m quite sure that Ron is capable of helping himself.”

“There’s no doubt about that.” Mitch came out of the kitchen, glaring at us and balancing two mugs and the coffeepot. He handed the tea to Ron, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down on the couch next to me, setting the pot on the floor. Ron handed him a set of papers identical to the ones I was holding.

We all read in silence for a while until Mitch groaned and pitched the papers across the room. “Jesus, is everything The Cadre does this bloody pretentious? I don’t see where a history lesson on the holy organization will do Deirdre much good at this point?! Can’t we get down to the facts without having to wade through a goddamned written lecture?”

Ron looked at him in surprise, then gave a small chuckle. “I guess the material is rather dry,” he admitted, “but I thought you might want some of the background before we started preparing your case. Keep them anyway.” He looked over to me and shrugged. “Read them later on, when you feel like it.”

“Thank you, Ron.” Actually the origins of The Cadre were of interest to me, but Mitch was right. Knowing how it started really did not help my case.

“The facts we really need to know”—Mitch glanced at me and I nodded my acquiescence—“are the sort of extenuating circumstances that are acceptable in the killing of other vampires and the type of punishment possible if she’s found guilty.”

Ron gave Mitch a look that could have been admiration. “Fine, I appreciate your no-nonsense approach. And I can answer the second fairly succinctly, so let me start there. There is no death penalty provided for by The Cadre. We’re not a vigilante group out to subject the world to vampire justice. We banded together for protection and preservation of the species; as you know, our reputation among humans is deplorable. We might have a thirst for blood”—he gave a funny, twisted smile—“but we are not bloodthirsty in the way that you think. Punishment, even for the murder of one of our own, can range anywhere from exclusion from the group to a period of supervised incarceration and starvation.”

He stumbled a bit over the last word, and I glanced at him in surprise.

“Starvation? That sure sounds like a death sentence to me.” Mitch’s voice was soft, but I could feel the anger flowing beneath.

“Actually, it isn’t,” Ron said, shaking his head. “No vampire has ever died from a starvation sentence. But”—he shuddered—“it is extremely grueling for both the prisoner and the keepers. A starving vampire is someone you would never want to meet or be, I promise you that. In fact, many under the starvation sentence choose suicide instead.”

“How?”

Ron looked over at me again, his eyes sad. “The most accepted way is to go to a secluded but open area and simply wait for the sun to rise. Even should you change your mind, there is hardly even enough time to find shelter.” His voice trailed away.

“But some take the starvation?”

Ron’s voice took on a more definite tone. “And they survive it. After the time’s up, sustenance is provided so that the weakened individual doesn’t need to hunt for a while.” Ron shuddered again, his eyes gaining a far-away look. Then he seemed to shake himself free of his thoughts and smiled at me. “Very few of those who’ve gone through the starvation need to be disciplined again. Actually”—he gave Mitch a wary look from the side of his eyes—“it’s a much more humane and effective deterrent than your human judicial system.”

Mitch laughed a bit uneasily. “You’ll get no argument from me on that. But I don’t want Deirdre to go through it regardless of the results.”

“Of course.” Ron nodded his agreement. “We’d all like to avoid the starvation sentence if we can. So we need to work on your motive for the murder, Deirdre. Why did you kill Max?”

I took a sip of my coffee, warming my hands as usual on the mug. “Max was out of control. He had murdered four people, and was threatening Mitch.” I stopped and shook my head slowly. “No, that’s not exactly true. What he did was much worse. Max attempted to coerce me into killing Mitch.” My voice broke and my hands trembled, splashing coffee on me. I set my cup down and stood up, rubbing my hands on my jeans. “I understand from Victor that The Cadre does not consider the murder of humans to be a terrible crime. But I had lived all my many years hurting no one, human or otherwise. I would not even have killed Max unless he himself had brought the situation to such an impasse. He knew how I felt about Mitch, and yet he persisted. He gave me no choice.” I walked around behind the couch and massaged Mitch’s shoulders, easing both his tension and mine.

“Can anyone else substantiate your evidence?” Ron’s expression included both interest and surprise. Apparently he had not heard the true story of Max’s death. But then, I thought, no one actually had.

“I ask only,” Ron continued, “because the killing of one’s maker, and the founder of a house, is a serious charge, maybe the most heinous crime a vampire can commit, and yet, if you had made a case before The Cadre at that time, and told us of Max’s deeds and his attempted coercion of you before you killed him, then the outcome might have been different.”

“I can testify to what happened,” Mitch said firmly. “I was there.”

“Sorry, Greer.” Ron’s voice was condescending. “We can’t accept the testimony of a nonvampire. You wouldn’t help her case much anyway; there are too many who are opposed to marriage with humans. The fewer who know about your involvement, the better. At this point it’d be much better if you just laid low for a while. I’m stretching the rules as it is to allow you to be present at this briefing.”

“And God forbid I should make you stretch the rules.” Mitch stood up and walked around the chair to me, kissing me lightly on the cheek. “Deirdre, I’ve got to get out of here. Your attorney says so.” His voice sounded calm and reasonable; only the glitter of his eyes and the set of his shoulders betrayed his anger. “And I could use a little night air to clear away the stench of The Cadre. I’ll be down at the pool hall. Join me when you’re done with Mr. Wilkes.”

“Mitch”—I touched his shoulder—“you don’t have to leave. Ron has no jurisdiction over you.”

“That may be true, but I don’t think I can tolerate his presence much longer. I’ve met him before. You see, he used to supervise some of my little trips into insanity. And every time he opens his mouth, I find myself longing for a wooden stake.”

Ron shifted in his seat. “That’s not really funny, Greer.”

“I know. It wasn’t meant to be.” Mitch kissed me hard on the lips, put on his jacket, and left the apartment.

“Good,” Ron said with finality as the door slammed shut, “we can talk freer now that he’s gone. His presence really complicates things.”

I looked over at Ron, taking in his expensive suit, his flawless features, the manicured hands that looked as if they had never done a day’s work. I thought about how he had befriended me to serve The Cadre, about how he was a part of the group that drove Mitch into madness. Trying to control my temper, I turned my back on him and silently counted to ten, gripping my hands together, telling myself that he did not know any better, that none of this was his fault. But it did not help. I spun around and confronted him, feeling anger rise uncontrollably through my body.

“Goddammit, Ron,” I snapped at him, moving quickly around the couch and grabbing the lapels of his expensive suit. “You have no right to order Mitch around. You all seem to be overstepping your bounds these days. All your regulations, all your questions, don’t you understand that they mean nothing to me? I never knew about the goddamned Cadre, never even knew who Max was until the night he died.” He attempted to rise, but I pushed him back down in the chair and held him there. Ron glanced around the apartment in a panic, licking his lips in fear.

“Deirdre,” he gasped, “don’t do this. Violence won’t help your case any.”

“I am not looking for help, Ron. Nobody has ever helped me. Where, at any time in my long, miserable life, was your precious Cadre to give me guidance, to read me a list of their bloody rules and regulations? And where was Max? No, you were all quite content to stand on the sidelines and let me struggle with what I had become all by myself. And dammit, I struggled and I survived, no thanks to Max or you or any of The Cadre. Mitch has been the only being to care for me, to truly love me, for a very long time, someone who stayed with me without being ordered to.” Ron winced slightly at that statement, but I ignored him and continued. “And yet you feel you have the right to order him around as if he were your servant. He is ten times the man you will ever be, regardless of your superior powers and attitude. Have you ever seen the scars caused by his confrontation with the beloved and much-revered founder of the house of Alveros? Did you ever look inside the mind you tortured to find his goodness, his intelligence, his love? No, of course you didn’t. Mitchell Greer deserves better treatment from you, from all of us.”

Suddenly the anger I felt drained away, leaving me empty and sad. I let go of Ron, noticing as I did so that my nails had made long gashes in the lapels. He looked down at his coat in dismay, and I laughed softly. “You’re a lucky man, Ron; it could have been your skin.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quavering only slightly, “but the skin grows back.”

“I am sorry, Ron. Send me a bill and I’ll buy you a new suit. And I apologize for my temper, it was not directed at you so much as at the entire situation. You see, I’m in a difficult position. Had I known of The Cadre’s existence, my life might have been quite different. And Max might still be alive. But it’s a little late for hindsight at this point; I cannot change what happened. And neither can The Cadre. So let them mete out whatever punishment they feel is necessary. I’ve survived worse, I assure you.”

“Deirdre.” Ron got out of the chair and stood in front of me, meeting my eyes squarely. “I’m sorry, too, that it should all come to this.” His voice lowered. “The last thing in the world I want to happen is to see you hurt, to know myself partly responsible for that hurt. It’s just that there are conventions to be satisfied, and two or three of the other house leaders are calling for blood. Your blood. But they are bound by The Cadre’s decision. That’s why Victor urged you to accept our justice, why he tried to impress upon you the importance of this trial. Once you have been tried by The Cadre, and their decision has been rendered, they cannot retaliate in any way, or they face the same punishment themselves.”

“I suppose,” I said with a twisted grin, “that Victor is one of those calling for my blood.”

“No, he’s not.” Ron sounded so confident, and I found myself almost believing him.

“No? But he and Max were so close. Or at least that is what Victor has always claimed.”

“Well,” he started to say reluctantly, “they were close. But Victor was not blind to Max’s faults and knew that there would come a time when Max would be held responsible for his misdeeds.”

“Trial before The Cadre?” Victor had hinted at that the evening I discovered Max’s coffin.

Ron nodded. “It wouldn’t have been the first time for Max either. I’m sorry to say this, and I mean no offense, but there’s something strange about those in the house of Alveros; they tend to be more headstrong than most, more determined to do things their own way, more vicious. Maybe it’s just in their blood”—he looked away from me—“although some of us think that it’s more from the tutelage they’ve had.”

“Fred mentioned that I was one of the oldest, that there were only a few of Max’s breed left. Do you have any idea of how many?”

A look of concern crossed his face. “Fred shouldn’t have told you that.” With effort he pulled his eyes away from mine, “And I’ve probably said too much myself. I’m not sure how much I can actually help you, Deirdre. I don’t even know why I volunteered to speak for you.”

I smiled at him. “I know why; you can never resist helping a lady in need.”

“Yeah”—he smiled back at me, obviously not holding a grudge about my previous actions—“that must be it. Now, I think we’ve covered more than enough material tonight. I’ll want to look back through our archives and see what kind of loopholes there are. Maybe there’s a precedent.” I could see his mind working on the problem, turning over the possibilities. “If only we had a feel for what Max was trying to do with you, what purpose he thought was being served by keeping you unaware of your birthright, well, maybe we’d have a stronger case. As it is, it’s only your word we have to go on.”

“My word is good.”

“I believe you, and I think Victor does too. But unfortunately we have eight other houses to convince.” He walked over to the desk and closed his briefcase. “Well, let me see what I can do. I’ll call you tomorrow evening, if that’s okay.”

“That will be fine, Ron.” I walked over to the door with him and shook his hand. “And I am sorry that I let my temper get the better of me tonight. I won’t allow it to happen again.”

“I don’t mind so much.” He winked at me. “I like a lady with spirit. Just promise me you won’t get that carried away in front of the panel, okay? They won’t take it quite as well as I did.” His lips brushed my mouth briefly in a light kiss and he went out the door.