by Margaret Carter, Crystal Green, Erica Orloff, Patricia Rosemor
The house was beautiful, with olive trees that swayed in the breeze and an arbor under which they took their supper….
There, at the house one night, Marco found them.
He kicked in a window and tore the shutter clean off its hinges.
“My wife,” he sneered, sweeping in through the window, glass shattering on the tiled floor.
Tessa and Lily both screamed, Lily cowering behind her.
“My darling,” Tessa said, her voice quivering with fear.
“You left without a goodbye, my love. Without a proper goodbye.” He was across the floor of the villa in an instant, his boots clicking on the tile. He grabbed Tessa and his lips were upon her neck.
Later Tessa didn’t even recall picking up the candelabra. She remembered striking him with it, though. Marco fell to the floor, blood trickling from his temple. Tessa stood over him and struck him again, the heavy silver candlestick landing with a sickening thud. Lily shrieked.
“No, my child. Don’t. We can’t panic.”
Hurriedly, they raced for their bags, and then, still feeling fear, Tessa set the villa on fire. Then they took off on horseback.
Miles down the road, their horses tired, they stopped at a stream near a fork in the road. Tessa told Lily, “I am headed for the sea. I will take a boat. You, head to Paris. Get lost amongst the masses. You will be anonymous there. Godspeed.” She pressed a sack of gold coins into the girl’s hand, the name God feeling foreign on her tongue.
From there Tessa traveled, eventually, to Morocco, where she met the diplomat George Ashton, and then it was onward to Shanghai.
Chapter 13
Hack called at eleven-thirty that evening. “I got your e-mail. I’m really sorry, Tessa.”
“I know, Hack. I’m worried sick.”
“You gonna tell me what you think this is all about? Or is this another one of your deep, dark secrets?”
“Hack, I trust you. But I also know it’s better for you, the less you know. I think someone from the past, someone with a grudge toward Lily and me, has returned. I think he may be using her as bait.”
“And do you think it has to do with Shanghai Red?”
“Yes.”
He was silent.
“What is it, Hack? You can tell me.”
“Well, I’ve gone over it a hundred times.”
Tessa’s body stiffened. “What? Tell me.”
“All right. I was playing around on the computer. I took all of the Shanghai Red death locations…every place where someone had OD’d on Shanghai Red…and I configured them on a map of the city. Then I added locations where police reports indicated Shanghai Red was being sold.”
“And?”
“And, it’s a bull’s-eye.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, they form concentric circles on the island of Manhattan.”
“Circles.”
“Yup. And not just ordinary circles. I mean perfect circles. You couldn’t draw them more perfect in geometry class.”
“That makes no sense.”
“But you didn’t ask the sixty-four-thousand dollar question.”
“Which is?”
“Where’s the bull’s-eye?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Come on. Archery, babe. The bull’s-eye. The circle in the center. Well, let me tell you, Tessa…it’s the Night Flight Club. Bull’s-eye.”
Tessa clutched the phone in one hand and reached out with the other to steady herself against her dining room table.
“You still there, Tessa?” Hack whispered.
“Mmm-hmm. But I don’t know what it means.”
“It means you are the bull’s-eye and someone’s planning on using you as target practice. Someone’s out to send you a message. I’d watch it if I were you. I’d double watch it. Something about this is really messed up. I think you pissed off the wrong person.”
“You could say that…. Thanks, Hack. You’ll keep playing with your computer, then? Keeping your ear to the ground?”
“Yeah. If I hear anything about Lily, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Hack.”
“Fight the good fight.”
“Always.”
Tessa hung up the phone. Long ago, she had run from the man who sired her. But here, in Manhattan, she was determined to take a stand. This was her home, her streets. Her world. And Marco wasn’t going to take it away from her.
“Surprise!”
When Delorean walked into the Night Flight Club on Thursday evening, she started weeping as everyone shouted “surprise” and emerged from behind the bar. Even Jorge had moist eyes as he clutched his new son. Delorean turned around and playfully slugged her husband on his rock-hard biceps. “You devil, you kept this surprise from me?”
Jorge winked at Tessa. “My boss would have fired me if I told you.”
Tiny Delorean rushed over to Tessa and, standing on tiptoe, threw her arms around Tessa’s neck. “This is so amazing. It looks magical. Thank you.”
They had stuck a Private Party sign on the door and were opening an hour later. For now, the entire place had been decorated in blue tulle. Against the back wall was a large banquet table covered in presents. Several other tables were covered in white linens with baby-blue flowers in vases in the center. Cool even toned down his techno mixes and was playing some Latin music he knew Delorean loved.
The kitchen staff had created platters of canapés, and they’d brought in pastries and a sheet cake as elaborate as one for a formal wedding.
“Come on, everyone, eat, dance, greet the baby,” Tessa urged, her arm around Delorean. She heard several bottles of champagne being uncorked with celebratory pops.
Little Micah slept blissfully in his father’s arms. He had pale brown skin and a crop of black curly hair. Tessa peered at his angelic face, feeling that familiar tug that she experienced whenever she saw children. She disguised the longing, telling herself a baby was not only an impossibility, it would never fit in with her lifestyle. She and John had wanted a baby. But that was from another time and place; she no longer entertained such thoughts.
Tessa allowed Delorean, Jorge, baby Micah, and his older sister, Bella, to take center stage. Her employees clustered around them, oohing and ahhing over the baby, who was bundled in a Winnie-the-Pooh layette set that Cool had bought and given Jorge in anticipation of the blessed event.
Bull’s-eye. Tessa looked around at the people she cared about. From the dishwashers to the bartenders to Jorge, she knew their names, faces, children’s names, their dreams. She helped them get green cards and work visas, she paid college tuition, she let them have days off for doctor appointments, their children’s plays, and to sightsee with visiting relatives. When Cool dated a waitress with a cocaine habit, Tessa even paid for rehab. Cheryl was now clean sober, and living in upstate New York, enjoying a fresh start.
Tessa knew she couldn’t allow Marco’s relentless pursuit of her to destroy them. She watched Jorge feed cake to Delorean in celebration of their new son. Looking on, she felt a pain that they might all be in danger. Tessa now knew that whatever it took, she would have to destroy, once and for all, the vampires who pursued her.
Later that night, after they opened the club, Tessa called Hack. It was a little before midnight, and she knew he’d be up, nursed along by his caffeine habit.
“I need to know something, Hack.”
“Sure thing, Tess.”
“Can you use those circles to predict where Shanghai Red will strike next?”
“I’ve been toying with some formulas and predictions all night.”
“And?”
“And I’m pretty damn wired, but I think I have a general idea where they’ll strike next.”
“Where?”
“Tudor City.”
“Got a cross-street?”
“Yeah. Got a pen?”
Tessa took down the address. Tudor City was an enclave of Manhattan between 2nd Avenue and the East River, de
lineated by 42nd Street to the north. The buildings there had more character than typical skyscrapers. Stone apartment buildings were grouped together in an area that felt like a true neighborhood—though it was just a stone’s throw from the hustle and bustle of Midtown.
Tessa checked her watch. The club was just filling up. She hurriedly dressed in black leather pants, black leather gloves and a black motorcycle jacket. She donned dark glasses and braided her hair. She wouldn’t wait until they came to the bull’s-eye. She would go to them.
As she traveled by rooftop, her teeth chattered. It wasn’t the cold. It was the fear. She had spent a century putting distance between herself and that woman—her youthful self, who had been so easily swayed by passion for a man. Now, she would not only face him but the origins of the life she led now.
In Tudor City, she descended a fire escape to the streets. The November wind rushed through the alleyways with a whoosh. Tessa crept like a cat, every nerve alert, on fire. She waited for James, for Jules, for the half creatures under Marco’s spell. Hearing footsteps, she turned around, and faced a trio of vampires—James and Jules, the two she had already encountered, plus a woman who carried an ancient-looking dagger.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” the female vampire taunted, her voice raspy and menacing.
“Have you?”
“Yes. Our Master said you would be smart enough to find us. But stupid enough to think you could fight us.”
“He underestimates me, as always.”
The vampire James came toward her first. They circled each other. Then Tessa found her center, found her strength and lunged toward him with a flying sidekick that snapped his ribs. When he doubled over, she brought her boot up and connected with his nose, which instantly spewed blood.
“Bitch!” he spat, gasping.
But Tessa had no time for name-calling. She pulled the lid off a garbage can in the alleyway and flung it like a discus, hitting Jules in the throat, causing him to spit blood and clutch at his neck. But of course, they had their tricks, too. She knew fighting them would not be easy.
First, a wolf appeared at the female vampire’s side. Though Tessa did not shape-shift, she knew enough about other vampires to know some of them did.
Next a fog descended. It grew so thick, she couldn’t see them, but she also knew it provided them cover from prying eyes.
She heard the four paws of the wolf coming toward her. It leaped up, and its jaws snapped at her neck, spittle flying and a snarl emanating from deep in its throat. She lifted her hand in defense, and its teeth closed around it, biting her with razorlike incisors. She fought the urge to scream in pain and, taking her other hand, she formed a hard fist and punched the wolf’s snout with all her strength. It recoiled with a loud growl and then a whimper, then it withdrew and lay down, its paw atop its snout.
Tessa pulled her belt through its loops and hurriedly wrapped it around her wounded hand, trying to stanch the blood flow. She crouched low, straining to hear and see where the next attack would come from, trying to catch her breath.
Hearing footsteps on the pavement, she guessed it was the woman next. She knew the woman would be her fiercest challenge. Tessa understood Marco too well—the woman would be both a vampire slave and a sexual slave to him. And she would be jealous of Tessa.
The woman burst through the thick fog, knife drawn, emitting the eerie shriek of the undead.
Tessa thrust out her fist, landing a punch squarely in the woman’s stomach. It didn’t stop the vampire, who sliced through the air with her dagger. Tessa could feel a soft breeze as the dagger whipped close to her face, back and forth. She raised her arm and felt the blade cut through the thick leather of her jacket. A warm ooze told her the knife had found flesh.
Tessa again crouched, this time searching and then finding the kneecap of the female vampire and landing a sharp kick that snapped the bone and brought the vampire down to the ground. Quickly standing, Tessa kicked her in the jaw. The other vampire started rolling away from Tessa, reflexively pulling her arms up to her face and wailing.
From behind, Tessa heard Jules and James. Of course she hadn’t wounded them enough to stop them, only enough to stun them. The two of them moved in tandem, almost as if dancing, drawing their legs back and then kicking out, spinning, kicking, spinning, kicking. Tessa raised herself off the ground and came at them with kicks and punches, and her full repertoire of fighting skills. When she first trained in the martial arts, she did it for discipline. Here in New York, she had added Kav Magra training—a form of martial arts used by the Israeli military. It wasn’t quite so elegant as her initial training, but Kav Magra was designed to render a kill.
One of two vampires, Tessa couldn’t tell which, managed to land a solid kick to her face, crunching against her cheekbone and immediately causing her right eye to swell. Tessa had to fight a panic rising in her when she realized she could no longer see out of that eye. Summoning all her remaining strength, she knew she could not allow herself to pass out.
“Buddha be with me,” she whispered, and from somewhere deep inside, she heard Hack’s voice. “Fight the good fight.”
Regaining her strength, she thought of Hsu, and of Hack’s brother. The images, their stories, energized her, and she whirled around and around, spinning with roundhouse kicks in the direction of Jules and James. She landed more kicks than she missed, and soon they retreated.
Then, without warning, the fog lifted. Tessa surveyed the ground. The wolf was lying on its side. The woman was crumpled in a heap, clutching her face. Jules and James were limping away from her.
Tessa’s eye was swollen completely shut, but she sensed Marco. At one time in her life, when both would be in a crowded room, sheer chemistry between them would magnetically pull her to his side. But now she considered that awareness of his presence a warning of deadly danger. She gazed up at the rooftops.
He was there. And in the crook of his arm, he choked a limp Lily. Tessa could see through her good eye that time had not diminished his strength. He was breathtakingly powerful and evil, all wrapped into one.
“Let her go, Marco,” Tessa called up to him, the words muffled, coming from lips swollen where she’d caught a punch. She tasted blood in her mouth.
“It’s a pleasure to see you, my beloved. My wife.”
“Take me. Leave her.”
“No. Our time to dance will come later.”
“Why not now?” she shouted up to him, but her voice just reverberated into emptiness.
He was gone. Vanished in a rush of fog.
Tessa saw that her enemies were stirring. She took off on foot, racing through the night. She’d deal with it all later. For now, she had to get home and nurse her wounds.
When Tessa reached the club, she took the back entrance. She didn’t want anyone to see her. Placing her hand to her face, she could feel the swelling. She knew she looked frightful.
Fitting her key in the lock, she ascended the back stairwell to her loft. And then she stopped. For there, sitting on the doorstep to her private apartment, was Detective Tony Flynn, clutching a bag of Chinese takeout.
Chapter 14
“Jesus H. Christ, what the hell happened to you?” he demanded, standing up in disbelief. “Here I brought you supper, and I should have brought a doctor instead.”
Had Tessa been a woman, an ordinary woman, she knew she would have wanted nothing more than to dissolve in his arms and let him care for her, but she knew his seeing her this way would raise many questions, and she struggled to think of what answers she could give him.
“It’s nothing.” Tessa quickly unbraided her hair, hoping her long black locks would hide some of the bruising.
“Nothing? You get the living shit kicked out of you and it’s nothing?” Flynn was at her side in three swift strides.
She avoided looking at him, tears stinging her eyes. She was unused to sympathy. She moved toward the door, deactivating the alarm and unlocking the three locks, all the while allowing h
er hair to fall forward, masking some of her wounds. Blood trickled to the floor from her cut arm and hand.
“Tessa!” Flynn grabbed her shoulder, causing her to wince. “Damn…I’m sorry.” He released her, but looked down at the blood on the floor. “I think we’ve got to get you to a hospital.”
Tessa opened the door. “I’ll let you in, but no hospitals.” She was surprised at how her voice trembled. Seeing Marco—with Lily, no less—had unnerved her. She knew many vampires felt the call of their sire. She did, too, but her years of training taught her to ignore that pull.
Flynn followed her through the door, and she reset the alarm.
“Let me see how badly you’re hurt. You’re bleeding. Jesus, Mary and Joseph but you’re a mess.”
“Flynn, suddenly you’ve got religion? That’s two mentions of Jesus inside of a minute. Look, I’ll be all right.” Tessa moved from the living room through her bedroom to the master bathroom with the giant sunken marble tub. He followed her in there.
“I thought you said you ran a clean club.”
“I do,” she said, taking off her leather jacket slowly, wincing for just a fraction of a second at the knife wound.
“People who run clean clubs don’t end up looking like they just went twelve rounds with Mike Tyson.”
“This is an old score. I can’t explain it right now.” She continued undressing, pulling off her leather pants, seeing the mottled flesh, knowing she would awaken tomorrow night hurting. She was now in a black tank top and black panties, and she didn’t care. She wanted to get into a hot tub of water, to wash away the memories of the night. She needed a plan to get Lily back. As long as Tessa wasn’t captured, Marco would keep Lily alive as bait. She was sure of it.
She stared at Flynn in the soft light of the bathroom, willing him to stop asking questions.
“Look, does whatever happened tonight have anything to do with this?” Flynn took a photograph from inside his jacket.
Tessa looked down, recognizing herself from another time, another place.