by Mark Henwick
If I could sense vampires, maybe some other people could, too. I stayed quiet, letting her tell it in her own way.
“I sat down on the arm of the sofa, and talked to them. First off, it was just guy stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, they had this joke going. One of them said I was pretty as a picture, he’d hang me on his wall. The next one said I should be in a gallery, and the third one, Rodrigo, told the other two off. But then he said he thought I must have good taste.”
I winced.
“I don’t think he was making a sick joke then,” she said. She finished her coffee. “I said something about feeling they’d called me over. Y’know, just flirting around. They seemed surprised. That’s when they started arguing in that language.”
“Any idea what it was about?”
“Something about me. Rodrigo wasn’t happy I was there. It gets a bit blurry. Next thing I know, I was leaning over Antonio, like we were cuddling. He bit me and there was this feeling. So hot, like I was almost ready to come. Weird or what?”
“He bit you and it didn’t hurt at all?” Again, my experience had been different, but I’d been fighting to the death. Valerie’s comments about her sensations and the blurring of her memory fit in with a couple of the theories the colonel and I had discussed. If vampires could make humans want to be bitten, that would be dangerous enough, but if they could mess with memories and perceptions—that was a whole different kind of dangerous.
“Yeah.” She balled up around the cushion, lowering her face to it. “None of them hurt me.” Her voice was muffled. “That time.”
I reached out and touched her arm gently. Leo twisted around in a flash and latched onto me with his claws. We burst out laughing and had to fuss him until he let go.
“That night was creepy, but I could live with it,” she resumed, when the cat had received enough worship to placate him. “I talked to Dominé. She didn’t like the sound of it and she said they wouldn’t get in again. But she was out yesterday. Someone let them in. I was on the door to the Sanctum, where you saw me tonight.”
She reached behind the sofa, bringing out a huge art folder and putting it on the coffee table. Pinned to the front was a fresh painting. It was done in oils, and looked as if it was still sticky.
Valerie’s mouth twisted, as if she felt sick to her stomach.
“I can’t remember exactly what happened. But I can remember what it felt like to me,” she said, pushing the painting toward me. The intense colors had been spread with a knife, in sharp, straight lines. It was angry, wounded and violent. “I can remember suddenly realizing what they were and being scared shitless. That’s the point where things started to happen and it all just gets…” she gestured again at the painting and then pushed the folder away as if she didn’t want to be reminded of it. “Marcel was on the door with me. He said nothing happened. He couldn’t remember them coming up the stairs at all. They did something to him. Even Dominé didn’t believe me until she looked at the recording from the security camera.”
Security footage? Hard evidence of vampire activity? I felt goose bumps down my arms.
I’d need that recording from Dominé and I had to get it to the colonel tonight.
“And you, Amber. You’re one of them, but you’re different. How is that?”
It felt like I’d been gut-punched. All the stuff from Dominé about being like them was so much talk, unsettling but nothing more. Here was a girl who could sense vampires, and she sensed I was one. I’d been sitting here with my Ops 4-10 head on, thinking about nailing vampires in America for the colonel. If I was one too, what did that mean for me?
“What do you mean?” I stalled.
“When you got in my face at the club, I felt the same thing I felt that first night with the three of them. It was as if you’d called out something to me. You’re one of them.” Leo uncurled and climbed into her arms, butting his head against her chin. “But you’re different somehow.”
“You’re scared of them, but you’re not scared of me?”
“I’m not scared of you. Not now. I can’t explain. You don’t give off the same vibe.” She frowned. “You didn’t answer.”
My lips twitched. No dummy, this one. “I’ve been bitten. I don’t bite.”
Valerie thought about this for a while. “If you’re not a…” she stumbled over finally saying it, “a vampire, but you’ve been bitten, does that mean I won’t become one either?”
Of course, that was a major reason why she worried, and it was a natural concern.
“I can’t say for sure. It’s been a year for me, and I’m not a vampire.” I shrugged. “I think of it like an infection that my body is fighting.”
She thought about that for a while. Leo decided she’d calmed down and he settled on her lap.
“If you’re not a vampire,” she said, “then why are you looking for them?”
That felt more comfortable for me. Seem like a vampire. Not a vampire.
“It’s something I do.”
“Oh my God!” Her eyes lit up. “A real life vampire hunter?” She got up and knelt on the sofa, much to Leo’s annoyance. “With stakes and stuff?”
“No stakes, no holy water, no Hollywood.”
“But, y’know, the books say the best hunters are part vampire. Does that—”
“The books say a lot of things that aren’t true.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I hope these guys will vanish and you’ll be okay. But while that happens, you need to be in North Platte.”
“Message received already.” She sat back. “What about the rest of them at the club?”
“You’ve been bitten and they haven’t. I don’t care about them.”
I didn’t really mean that; I was tired and talking carelessly. Valerie didn’t like it.
“They’re people, Amber. People see they’re different and use that as an excuse for all sorts of crap. You can’t. You have to understand; you’re different, too.”
She pulled the art folder back and opened it, leafing through until she found what she was looking for and pulled it out.
“There,” she said, putting a painting in front of me. It was beautiful: two angels entwined, male and female, rising out of shadow. Their hands reached up into brilliant sunshine. The female model was Giselle from the club, and she was already beautiful. The male model had a face I’d have had to describe as ugly, but the artist had transformed him with an expression of joy.
“I’m no art critic,” I said, “but I’d say it’s excellent. Is it yours?”
“No. That’s Marcel’s work. If I just had a tenth of his talent, I’d be happy.”
“Never works like that—”
“I know, I know,” she said. “We’re never happy if we think like that.”
“But anyway, you are talented.” I waved at the pictures on her walls.
She turned and looked at me grumpily. “I paint funny penguins. I know you say you’re not an art critic, so I’ll give you a small hint. There’s a difference.”
I laughed and, after a while, she joined in. It was good to see the tension in her reducing.
But she wasn’t finished. “And Giselle.” She tapped the painting. “You spoke to her.”
“Well, we didn’t really speak,” I said. “But yes, I met her briefly.”
“And because she dresses up in the evening and wears an angoisse, she’s not worth any concern.”
“No—”
“She used to have another job until someone found out she comes to the club. Guess what it was.”
I held my hands up in surrender.
“She used to be a teacher. And—”
“Okay, okay.” I stopped her. “But my point stands. You’ve been bitten. They haven’t. I want you out of sight. Go back to Nebraska. Visit your parents.” I smiled. “Find a discreet cousin.”
She snorted.
I leaned back on the sofa. “Does anyone know how to contact you there? Anyone at the club?”
“Only Dominé.”
I made a quick decision. I’d gotten about as far as I thought I could with Valerie. Her memory wasn’t clear anyway. That security camera footage was what I really needed.
“I’m going back to the club now. I’ll get that recording. Stay out of there. Go to Nebraska. One of us will call you.”
I got out Dominé’s card and had Valerie write her cell phone and landline numbers on the back. I gave her my cell number and said goodbye to Leo, who granted me permission to leave.
At the door, she stopped me, one light hand resting on my arm.
“You’re welcome to sleep on the sofa, after you’ve finished at the club. I have lots of breakfast stuff.”
I didn’t think the offer was really for the sofa.
“I’m good, thanks. Promise me you’ll go?”
“Okay. And thanks.”
I drove back to the club. I knew what I was expected to do. I knew what my orders would be.
The colonel had to have Valerie under observation. After all, the same thing had happened to her as happened to me. She might turn. I thought of her painting bright, funny pictures of penguins while locked in the laboratory at the base.
It made me ill.
Chapter 9
If Dominé was surprised to hear from me so soon, she didn’t say. I called ahead and despite having scrubbed off my vampire face, I was let straight in and taken to her office. We were left alone.
“There’s a security recording of Valerie being bitten, Dominé. It would be very useful to me.”
She nodded and retrieved a DVD from a drawer. “I thought you might want it. Would you like to view it now?”
“Please.”
She opened a slim laptop on her desk and slid the disk into the drive. When the video came up, she clicked on the timeline and the screen showed Valerie and Marcel standing as I’d first seen them, on the stairs outside the inner club.
The three vampires walked up the stairs and Marcel tried to stop them, saying they weren’t members and he was under instruction to refuse entry. Valerie shrank back against the wall.
In a second, Marcel was shoved to one side by two of them, but I kept watching Valerie. Raul, the tall vampire, had her pressed against the wall. She was terrified and it looked to me as if that triggered a response from Raul. Her frantic blows against his body were ignored and died away as he fastened on her neck. Her face was tilted up and showed she was still aware and still frightened out of her skin, but her hands hung down limply.
“What the fuck are you doing?” shouted Rodrigo.
Whatever it was that set Raul off seemed to communicate itself to the third one, Antonio. He joined Raul.
Rodrigo had Marcel by a grip around his throat. He swore again and turned back to Marcel as his struggles were weakening. He glared at his face and then just simply let him go. Marcel slid down the wall. He didn’t seem unconscious. He looked completely bewildered.
In the space of a few seconds of security video, the implications of the power of vampires sank in. Not just strong and fast, but capable of attacking a person’s mind as well. No wonder they managed to stay hidden.
On screen, Rodrigo tore the other two off Valerie. He seemed exceptionally strong. Raul fought back and Rodrigo sent him slamming against the wall with a push.
They were shouting at each other, their voices distorted in the pickup. I didn’t recognize the language.
It lasted only a minute. Rodrigo drove them out, leaving Valerie and Marcel sitting looking blankly at each other.
Dominé clicked on the player and the screen blanked.
In the silence, I retrieved a scrap of paper from my clutch bag. It was a bit torn off the club’s check ticket for my cloak. Just enough. I wrote my cell number and name on it.
“Please give that to Marcel, and tell him to call me if he’s worried.”
She inclined her head.
I licked my lips. “And as a favor, would you erase the copies of that footage?”
“A favor for whom?” She watched me calmly as I struggled with what I could say that might convince her.
“For Valerie. I can’t tell you why.”
“Anything else?”
“Is there any way that she can be tracked from here—employee records, phone numbers?”
“Of course. You wish me to erase everything?”
“Just the contact information. And what about friends of hers?”
“You are very thorough in your requirements, Amber. I don’t believe any of her friends would give her away.”
“I wasn’t thinking of a voluntary disclosure,” I said.
“I see.” She put the DVD in a case and handed it to me. “Then as far as I know, the only record of her address will be in my head. That, unfortunately, I cannot erase.”
“Can I recommend precautions?” I said. “Some professional bodyguards to supplement the bouncers.”
“These bodyguards, they will keep the three men away?”
“I think so.” Even if they were going half crazy, they’d have to understand that forcing their way in here would bring the police after them. They couldn’t wipe everyone’s mind.
“Then surely I do not need to erase records?” asked Dominé.
“I would advise—”
“It seems,” she said slowly, interrupting me, “I have many people to watch out for, on behalf of Valerie. This is not just about those men returning, is it?”
“No,” I said. “But they’re the most dangerous. The only protection you have is they want to operate in secret. They can’t risk attracting too much notice. That alone should keep them from making trouble here, but not from pursuing Valerie if they realize that she is a security breach that they have to stop.”
Dominé didn’t say anything immediately, but ushered me away from the desk to an easy chair in a breakout area she had set up. I sat down stiffly.
“And the others who may come asking?” She opened a cabinet as I struggled against my conscience. “Well?” She turned and handed me a glass of wine. She turned the main lights off and sat opposite me, across a glass coffee table. The only light source was a low lamp shining onto the tabletop, leaving our faces in partial darkness.
“I can’t say. I know I’m asking a lot here. If representatives of a government or federal institution…” I paused, unwilling to go on. I couldn’t stand the thought of Valerie disappearing into the Obs laboratory through no fault of her own, but I was on the point of disobeying an army order.
Dominé held up a hand. “Enough,” she said. “You demand a great deal from me, on trust.”
“Yes.” There seemed no other answer.
“And, in return, do you trust me?” She reached forward to pick up her wine. I’d thought she might be forty earlier in the night. Maybe it was the lighting, maybe she was tired, but she looked older now. Her eyes glittered in the gloom.
I tried to concentrate, sift through the night’s jumble of emotions and images in my head. “Yes,” I said again, and I meant it.
“Vraiment,” she murmured, getting up to fetch something from a drawer in her desk.
She placed it on the table between us with a metallic click. It was one of the spiked collars her wait staff wore. My mouth went dry.
She sat back in the shadows, her fingers meditatively tracing the contours of the collar, sliding carefully over the barbs.
“Do you know, the angoisse was designed to teach young ladies the benefits of sitting straight and keeping the head upright?”
“Seems extreme,” I managed to say.
“For that, it is, without doubt. Yet it outlasted the society and the thinking that designed it. And still, it has the capacity to teach.” Her voice had become low, hypnotic. “I use it only as a gift. It may surprise you, Amber, but many come to me, thinking they wish to learn. Very few become torquate and wear the angoisse.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Quite. One is enough.”
“What do you mean?�
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“I mean you wear one already.” She stirred. “You are wrapped in barbs so you cannot move. You can barely breathe without the pressure of them threatening to pierce your skin. Who has done this to you, Amber?”
The sounds of the club drifted in through all the soundproofing around her office. Much louder, my heart thudded in my ears. “I don’t know what you mean,” I said.
“I have been many years in my trade. A person who passes by might say I trade in pain. A person who lingers might say I trade in desire. I do neither. I simply enable people to look within themselves. And in return, I am granted some sight there.”
Her description of my life now, wrapped around with threats from the prions in my blood, threats from the army, the pain of not being able to confide, it all seemed so accurate and yet how could she know any of this? How could she claim to see as much as she did? I had to believe in vampires. But what else was out there? Or rather, right here?
“Come,” she said, picking up the angoisse and standing. “Trust me. I will show you, just briefly.”
“Why?”
“You have helped one of mine. You have gifted me knowledge. This is my gift in return to you.”
She walked behind me. My breath stuck in my throat. I held up a hand to stop her.
“It is a matter of trust, Amber.”
I owed her for her trust. What was she going to do? Put something uncomfortable on my neck for a few seconds. How bad could it be? What would it feel like? My hand dropped.
I shivered as the metal scratched my neck. There was a click as she fastened it at the back and then her hands rested on my shoulders.
It was lighter than I’d thought. Barbs seemed to touch me everywhere, but nothing pierced me. I stayed very still, very upright, my chin up, and tried to breathe smoothly. I felt an obscure sense of pride. I could wear this if I had to. Seconds stretched. I flexed my neck slightly. I felt the barbs press into the skin. I raised my chin. Different barbs dug into different parts of my throat. How right she was. This was exactly how it felt.
With a twist, she undid the clasp and removed the collar.