by D. L. EVANS
"Careful", I warned. "His suit costs more than your education."
Mack laughed then said, "I have a feeling that we’re going to have to throw some of these Halloween types out on their asses before the night is over.” He swept the room with a hostile glance. ”Half of 'em are pissed already."
I had to agree. “They sure are an eclectic group alright. Not the same bunch that was at the big opening.”
“Eclectic, yah, that’s the word. A fucking bunch of free-loading eclectics... that’s it.” I laughed. He was sounding very Irish. “Personally,” he continued, glancing around, “I’d be surprised to find if some of the ones over there at the food trough are all carbon based life-forms. We both laughed. “What’s happening with you and little sister Annie? Have you made up or does she think you’re the Boston strangler.”
“Fuck off,” I sniffed.
“I can see that she can pop your clutch. Poor bastard.”
“Will you shut the fuck up.” I glared a useless warning. Lauren’s assistant Mary made a timely appearance re-introducing herself to me. I took the opportunity to get her in conversation with Mack. Mary’s eyes sparkled and she practically bounced with delight meeting a gen-u-ine detective. Mack seemed quite speechless as he stared at her buzz cut; the black spandex dress that almost covered her powerful frame; long indigo fingernails with little pink hearts on them and sneakers with heels. I could see the muscle cords in her neck and legs as tight as rebar. She must live at the gym. Mack was bedazzled. She had to mingle as part of her job, she bubbled, but would love to come back and ask some more questions if it wouldn’t be too much trouble. Mack was understandably agreeable.
“Christ,” Mack watched her as she turned to greet some friends, “she’s practically jumping.” From the expression I could see he was impressed. Maybe this was the way to get him over Lauren. “That ass is moving hydraulically. I’m going to need vitamins. Is she legal?” He blew out a breath.
“Probably just,” I laughed. I could never stay angry, even annoyed with Mack. “Getting back to business, have you interviewed Vlad Roman about Morgan yet? I’m curious to hear what he has to say about her.” Mary disappeared into the crowd.
“We’re seeing him late tomorrow at his foundry in Oakville,” Mack said absently looking at the various couples. “It’s not actually his foundry, as in owner, but he rents it when he’s in the country. Why? Another character for your book, maybe? Are you writing about vampires now? ‘Cause that’s just what the prick looks like to me.”
“There’s a thought,” I mused. “You’d never find the bodies if he ate them... let me write that down.”
Mack looked suitably distressed. “Jesus, Adam! What are you thinking? I don’t want to star in a fucking vampire movie?”
“Hey, it didn’t do Tom Cruise any harm, did it, when he was younger? And the seem to be all the rage now in print and TV.”
A deep breath, a mulled over thought, “Oh yah. Go ahead then.”
We both laughed. I made a point of reconsidering. “Hmmmm. I don’t know if the world is ready for an Irish vampire.” I prompted him to talk about the progress of the investigation, which he did over his ginger ale. His team was working their way down the list of students and artists that Morgan used models but so far no dirt about The Great Vlad. Beautiful women were lining up to pose for him but he only used the top ones. Several of them were due to be interviewed shortly. Mack had the nerve to sound frustrated. Poor guy, forced to interview lovely models. Well, he sighed theatrically, someone had to do it. Apparently the great man was still surrounded with security and it was difficult to pin him down according to Mack but given the choice of coming in for questioning or accepting a visit, he chose the latter. It was interesting to hear that he travels with two bodyguards. Who would threaten Vladimir Roman? He was as big as a house and intimidating as hell with those glaring eyes. Maybe it was all image. I was tired of the whole scene. Mack finished his drink and left to continue his rounds. Some parts of the job I did not miss.
Chapter Thirty-Four
ANNIE STANFORD:
Annie felt the hair at the base of her neck stand on end. The watcher had arrived. Her stomach tightened, she took a deep breath and looked once more around the room. Nothing caught her eye. No one behaved abnormally; no eyes made contact. How could he be hiding from me? This time she did not wait for the familiar prayer to blast out in the strange mind voice. She focused and projecting her own. I know you’re here. Show yourself!
The Disciple of Satan is waiting for you my angel. You shall not want.
The sound that no one else could hear was so overpowering, the scent of death was so strong that Annie fainted.
When she opened her eyes a few minutes later she was in Alison’s office on her leather couch. Adam and Alison were beside her wearing very concerned expressions. She managed to get to her feet and run for the bathroom. Alison followed in behind her. Adam stood feeling helpless.
Ten long minutes dragged by. Finally Alison reappeared looking pale and shaken. “Thanks for your help, Adam,” she said. “Annie’s OK, don’t worry, she’s been sick to her stomach, but she's all right now. It's over. I’ve never seen her ill. Shook me up a bit too. She’ll be out in a minute." I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry about the other night at the fire, “ she added. “Annie’s visions are sometimes confused, layered. I thought she felt threatened by you for some reason, but it seems it had nothing to do with you.”
I guess I was supposed to understand this comment. Somehow I’d thought she was the type to hold a grudge and here she was being all sweet and nice. She took my hand and patted it, telling me how grateful she was that I was there to carry Annie away from the gathering onlookers so quickly. She sure was beautiful. Everything about her was groomed and tailored. She released my hand; went to her exquisite bar that was built into the wall behind her; produced a drink, and handed to me. I noticed a fabulous emerald on her finger that matched her eyes.
“Bourbon and water, sans water, right?” she said passing me the glass.
"Forgive me for staring,” I replied, “but I didn’t expect any kind words after our last meeting at Morgan’s house, or what’s left of her house.” Alison smiled with a demure tilt of her head and stared away. Was she composing an answer? She looked like a movie star right down to her very expensive shoes, probably hand made for her to match her long black velvet sheath, a stunning counterpoint to her light golden hair. She oozed money and... something else... power? Control? Part of her diva style no doubt. Maybe it was just her intelligence under the perfect grooming. Even her perfume was wonderful. Not the same energy around her that circled Annie, but something. Contradictory feelings seemed to expand around me. “What exactly happened to Annie?” I asked bringing the moment into the present. “Did she say? I was speaking to her about ten minutes before she fainted and she was fine." I knew instinctively it wasn’t something, it was someone. Alison’s friendly expression faded to stone. I felt she was quick to erect barriers and obviously had decided against making me a confidant.
"It's best that Annie talks to you herself. I don’t speak for her. She’ll tell you what she wants.” I noticed that the clipped resonance in her voice was back, the elocution of authority. But there was an undercurrent of nerves. Was it just the pressure of being the host? Was she afraid of something too? "I have a eulogy to give,” she stated. “Our ‘guest speaker’ didn't show. I take it that you will stay and see that she's OK?" She riveted me with a smile. I nodded. We both stood and she left.
I wandered around, reading book titles and trying to relax, when Annie came into the room. Her face was drained of colour and I could see that she was still shaken. I wanted to hold her, tell her that I couldn’t get her out of my mind, but I felt that she was too embarrassed to be comforted. I didn't know what to say. I put my drink down and took both her cold hands in mine. "Can you talk about it?" I asked gently.
Annie knew that the fear she was feeling was still around her. The a
nger she was experiencing was cold and dangerous. Could Adam be in danger from the Watcher? Did he mean to kill him? Something was hovering just out of reach. It would be safer if Adam were not around until she could make some sense out of this. She cleared her throat and looked up at him. "I’m not sure of anything anymore Adam. Please be patient. I’m so sorry about everything. As for tonight and what just happened to me, the nearest explanation that you might understand is... a meltdown." She took my glass of bourbon from the desk and took a gulp. It seemed an intimate gesture.
"Thanks,” she said handing it back to me. “It's happened to me before,” she continued, “but not quite this... intensely." She tucked a stray curl behind her ear in an absent gesture of nervousness. "Look Adam. I'm sorry I've worried you like this but there was so much to deal with that I felt faint. When that happens, I just shut down for a few minutes and usually I'm OK. This time, there was... more."
"Bad vibes?" I wanted to keep her talking. She looked so vulnerable.
"Yes. Something like that." I was rewarded with one of her brilliant smiles even if it was a little forced. Perfect small teeth and sparkly grey opal eyes. Her control at least was back. “That’s exactly it, bad vibes.”
"Let me take you home," I offered. "Alison has everything under control. “You've done your bit... OK?" She looked at me deeply. My stomach tightened as I resisted the impulse to kiss her. Maybe she got the message. I quickly added, "No strings, honest..."
"Not tonight, Adam.” His obvious disappointment hurt her in a deep place. The timing for them was still not right and he could be in danger just being near her. “But I'll take a rain check,” she quickly added. “I need some time to myself, to sort things out... I just want a hot bath and a night's sleep. Alison has arranged for Winnie to drive me home. He’ll be waiting at the back entrance. I’ll be OK. Maybe tomorrow I can figure out what’s going on. Things are so…. negative.” She didn’t dare tell him about the feelings of death circling like vultures.
"Not everything, surely." I realized I was not being as sensitive as I should be, but was beyond caring.
"No Adam. Not everything,” she reassured me. “Can I call you tomorrow? I promise, I'll make more sense." She smiled and I found myself reluctantly agreeing. She asked me to return to the wake and explain to Lauren what had happened and then left.
Chapter Thirty-Five
ANNIE STANFORD:
Annie took a deep breath and started to undo the seat belt as Winnie pulled in front of the warehouse. She sensed the danger immediately but did not show any reaction to upset Winnie. He had to leave to be safe. She said her goodnights and watched him drive away.
He was waiting for her in the shadows where he thought he was safe. Annie could not see him yet but felt his confidence, his erection, his excitement. He was going to rape her and the sweet anticipation that he would cause pain and fear shimmered as she moved forward. Other emotions curled around. She let them wash over her as she braced for the confrontation. He was arrogant. She would know his power, his strength as he claimed her. She felt the knife feeling cool against his skin. It had been too long since he had felt the energy.
No, not the Watcher… but who sent you and why? Annie could smell him. Expensive soap, hair gel, and the sweat of excitement. Not exactly a petty street criminal are you? But pumped to make the mistake of your life, Mr. Businessman. The aura she sensed told her that he had been waiting a few hours. He would not be able to see her until she approached the front door.
The numbered security panel was not lit. It had been disabled. The door was open. So you know your way around security devices and you have a plan. Too bad.
He grabbed Annie from behind, turned her and slammed her up against the wall pressing his forearm across her shoulders. His right hand held a knife to her throat.
What did he want? This is not a random mugging. You have a mission. What and why? Annie held her breath and gently resisted the pressure, careful not to give anything away. She stared into his eyes and saw his anger. Are you having fun yet? she said in her mind voice.
He heard the words loud and clear. Hennesey blinked his eyes rapidly in disbelief. Did he just imagine her saying … No, he thought, her lips hadn’t moved. The sound was a voice behind his eyes. The whore could barely breath. He could kill her with a wave of his blade. He pressed the knife-edge along her soft skin, needing to feel her fear.
“So you finally showed up, bitch,” he growled. “I’ve been waiting for fucking hours just for you. Now you let me into your nice little nest and we can have a good time, alright honey?” He forced his arm deeper into her body annoyed that she wasn’t showing the usual terror that he liked to see in his victims.
Annie stared blankly showing no resistance. Hennesey shook with rage spitting curses and threats thinking he might cut her throat just a little to shake her up. Then he could move on to the break-in but his erection changed his mind. He eased back with his left arm releasing her shoulders but still holding the knife at her throat. Annie did not move. He looked down at her white skin, the swell of her perfect body beneath the dress. In a second he pulled the delicate fabric aside, saw that there was no bra, and ran his hand over her firm breasts. Annie felt her nipples react to his rough hand, but continued to watch his eyes. She inserted a few delicate probes, into his brain ignoring his adrenaline that hit her like white water racing over rapids. He was pinching her nipples now, twisting them one after the other, forcing them fully awake, but her mind was being flooded with fast-flowing images. Another detached part of her felt her dress being pulled up over her thighs and his groping hand ripped away her lace panties and as one knee forced her legs apart, he thrust his hand up between her thighs. Annie forced herself to ignore the assault, and pushed deeper with her mind probes. Hennesey gasped and moaned as he opened his pant zipper to free his erection. He would take the bitch right here in the hall then force her to open the elevator. He could fuck her again in the comfort of her own bed. Annie sensed a clear thought. So you want to get into the studio but not to steal. That’s a start, Mr. Whoever You Are. She knew that if the bastard would calm down a little she might actually see the scenario he had planned after the rape. His eyes were unfocused now, consumed with his need as Annie raced through his mind, searching for the memory halls. Her breath came slower as she sank into the warm dream state. Hennesey froze in position as a static charge passed through him. A pressure in his head made him feel that he was losing his mind.
Time seemed to unwind. She ran down the deeper mental hallways opening doors with a glance as she passed. Memories ran by like old movies. There was no time to read him, no time to know who he was. Images flashed, projected on the walls of memory, past rapes, fist fights; pleasure and pride in the horrible beatings replayed in two dimensions, costumed women and men, sexual positions… Annie mentally ran faster as she scanned his past. She felt the rising nausea and quickly suppressed her natural reactions to the myriad of pornographic images she was experiencing in his mind. She was not here to judge or react, she was here to find. His breath strained near her ear and his heart pulsed erratically around her. She had seconds before the shock would kill him. Annie slowed the probes. She would get nowhere if he knew what was happening. She triggered a pleasant memory of a drug reaction and the tension eased around his heart. Deeper and deeper she continued: present time suspended, surrounded by his tightly wound personality and monstrous ego, as she searched for the core. It was close hidden in the dark area, buried, guarded; she only had to find it. There are only two emotions Annie knew; love and fear and there was no love in these halls. This twisted man that now hovered between life and death was a product of his childhood. Something … some awful experience or series of traumas was fused deep in his bones where he had forced it remain. Something huge, Annie knew, so ugly and so debilitating that it deformed his soul. In his defence, his violent life had been built over it like scar tissue over a wound. Annie was becoming fatigued with the intense effort, and considered that perha
ps she should cause the headache that would end his aggression, when suddenly, she saw his personal terror.
Hennesey felt that he was floating. A cocaine high without the powder, he thought. Something strange had happened but he was still in control. He still held the knife loosely to Annie’s throat as he struggled with his free hand to rip the remaining triangle of lace between them. He fought against the strange dislocation that caused him to loose his erection. The goddam whore still looked unfazed, he thought, resisting the urge to knock her teeth out… anything to force her respect. Maybe she was in shock, he thought. He grabbed her chin and squeezed as he licked the side of her face trying to get a reaction from her flat grey eyes. “What a rush you are…all alone and such a tasty piece of ass”, he whispered.
Annie was calm, hands at her sides, gathering her energy.
“Whatsamatter, honey. Don’t you want it?” Hennesey said into her left ear. His erection returned. He heard his own words sounding somehow slurred but he was beyond observing the subtleties of what was happening around him. “You’re going to play one way or the other baby. I’m so ready for you.” He positioned himself again but as he felt her yielding, another rush of static electricity flowed through him. The mind probe smashed through the protective firewall, and the multi-levelled barriers of guilt and Annie watched in slow motion as his defences collapsed inwards.