Crave

by Karen E. Taylor

  Deep shudders shook my body and I seemed to close in around myself, sinking to the sidewalk, flames of pain shooting through me. The calls for help that rose in my throat became guttural growls on the way and I felt the startled shock of the pedestrians surrounding me, scented their fear and their flesh, heard the tearing of cloth as it ripped away from my limbs. A small human voice cried out in the back of my skull. “No!”

  But my body was no longer my own, and this one rejoiced in a freedom denied it for over a century. I sprang to all fours, the feel of the pavement foreign and rough beneath my paws, kicking away the last of my restrictive clothing. Glancing around, tail whipping with anger in the air, I narrowed my eyes. My sensitive ears ached with the screams of terrified humans, and I opened my mouth and roared. And then roared again, leaping forward, running for refuge in a city where none was to be had.

  How long I ran, I did not know. Neither did I know if I caused harm or death. I do know that it was a futile escape; the city was endless, the forests that I craved much too far away for me to reach them. It was close to dawn when I found an alley in which to hide. For I knew I must hide, instinctively knowing the danger of the sunrise, as well as the danger from an unidentified pursuit. And although I had managed to evade capture, I was still uncannily aware of the presence of my stalker. But as I settled in, I scented the air and judged it safe for now. Curling into a corner, I licked the blood from the pads of my feet, ripped into shreds by the rough concrete.

  They took me completely by surprise, a man and a woman, with no fear of me in their minds as they approached. He held his hand out to me; immediately I lashed out with my claws and opened his arm from elbow to wrist. The smell of his blood filled my senses and I knew him. Our eyes met, his so intensely blue and full of love that his name came back to me. “Mitch.” I could not say the word, but I know he heard, as I heard and understood my name on his lips.

  The woman came over and stroked my head, teasing and caressing the soft tufts of hair around my ears. Her soft lisping voice and metallic laughter echoed off the brick walls surrounding us. “Come, sister, we must try to get you back,” Vivienne laughed again, “in more ways than one, I fear.”

  Chapter 9

  When I finally woke, I found myself naked, covered only with the heavy red brocade spread, lying on the carpet of our room in Cadre headquarters. My arms and legs twitched as I tried to remember what had happened to me. It would have seemed a dream, except that I knew I was no longer capable of dreams. And the stale taste of blood that remained in my mouth, the undeniable ache of the loss of a freedom now beyond my reach told me that what I remembered was all too real. I sat up and looked around me, my eyes narrowed, attempting to adjust to the limitations of this different sight.

  “Deirdre?” Mitch rose from where he had been stretched out in one of the chairs. He was wearing only a pair of jeans and it looked like he’d been holding vigil over me for a while. “How do you feel? Are you okay?”

  I shook my aching head. “I don’t know. What time is it? And what happened?”

  “It’s just a bit before sundown. As far as what happened, well, you changed, transformed.” He smiled at me and held out a hand to pull me up to him. “Damn, it was incredible. You were beautiful.”

  The spread dropped from my body. I shivered and he wrapped his arms around me. “Why am I naked?”

  Mitch shrugged. “When you transformed, your clothes were destroyed. They’re probably lying in a heap on the street where you lost them. Vivienne says that most vampires prefer to be nude before they begin the change.”

  “I’ll try to remember that next time.” My voice was dry and I moved away from him to the dresser, finding clothes to replace those that were gone. “If there ever is a next time. I don’t really remember much about it. What was I?”

  “A lynx.”

  “A lynx?” I stepped into a pair of jeans and zipped them up. “But why?”

  “Vivienne says that each individual has a different form, some even have two, one with wings and one without.” His eyes met mine and his excitement at these new revelations was completely apparent. This situation was a game to him, and one that he very much wanted to play.

  “No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t give a damn what kind animal I turned into or why I chose that particular form. The question is: why did I change at all? I had no intention to. I certainly never wanted to.” I pulled on a black sweater and hugged my familiar human-shaped arms to myself, “And I never want to do so again.” Even as I said it, though, I caught the faint growl of disagreement in the back of my mind. Mitch was right, it was beautiful, it was wonderful.

  He ignored my denials, concentrating instead on the specifics of the change. “Vivienne says that inadvertent change can be caused by extreme emotions: fright, hunger, hate. Or by the transformation of another vampire, either nearby or linked to the other.”

  I sat down on the end of the bed and gave him a long calculating glance. “Then what exactly is my dear sister’s assessment of the change?” My voice sounded brittle.

  Mitch laughed a little. “You really are jealous of her, aren’t you?”

  “No, but the two of you seem to be getting very friendly. Considering you’ve just met.”

  “You are jealous.” He smiled at me. “She’s only trying to help.”

  “Is there any reason why we need her help? I don’t trust her. Quite honestly, I don’t trust any of them. And neither should you.”

  “Vivienne is harmless. The others, yes, you know how I feel about them. I hate them. For what they tried to do to you, for what they did to me. And yet . . .” Mitch’s voice trailed off.

  I could finish his thought for him. Had none of that ever happened, he wouldn’t be what he was right now. And Mitch liked what he was—with almost as much fervor as I hated what he was, both for him and for me.

  I sighed. There were reasons not to trust Vivienne; she had so very conveniently detained me the night of Larry’s attack on Mitch. She may even have been involved in that attack. But it would do me no good to attempt an explanation right now. He was too excited with the prospect of his potential powers to listen.

  “Besides,” he continued, “Vivienne’s okay. She had nothing to do with the threats to me or to you. And she was one of the Cadre members who decided for you during the trial. So she’s on our side.”

  “You and me and Vivienne against the rest of them? How very cozy.” I rubbed my hand over my eyes and leaned my head against the bedpost, realizing that my anger was not really meant for him. “I’m sorry, Mitch,” I said, my voice softer now, “I don’t mean to be so difficult. But my head aches, my body aches. And I’m very hungry.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, a predatory light gleaming from his eyes, “we should hunt tonight. Soon I should think. But before we do, I’d like to get reacquainted with your human form.” With a low laugh he crossed the room and sat down behind me on the bed. His hands began kneading my shoulders and I leaned back into him. “How’s that feel?”

  I didn’t answer, just gave a long, low sigh. He pushed aside my hair and nuzzled the nape of my neck. I shivered slightly and he laughed again. “You made one hell of a wild cat, you know. You practically ripped my arm open to the bone.”

  “Which one?”

  He held out his arm and I lightly traced my nails down his naked skin. “No scars.” I sighed. “I miss your scars. Did it hurt?”

  “Just for a minute. I was so relieved to find you before dawn that it hardly mattered. When you didn’t come back in an hour or so, I started to worry. And then I felt you almost like you had climbed inside me. Felt your rage, your confusion, your hunger. I thought I’d go crazy, until suddenly there was a blankness, as if you’d been snuffed out of existence. That was even worse.” He wrapped his arms around my neck, rocking me slightly back and forth. I could feel the muscles of his chest play against my back. “I practically knocked down Vivienne’s door trying to get an explanation of what was happening to me and to
you. She was not pleased,” Mitch chuckled and continued, “and neither was the guy she’d been playing with.”

  I laughed with him. “Well, fair is fair, after all. It serves her right. Anyone we know?”

  “No one I’ve ever seen before. He was very young, very blond and very human.” The last word sounded scornful, demeaning.

  “But, Mitch, it hasn’t been that long since you were human, too.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I’m better now.”

  I pulled away from him only slightly, but he noticed immediately. “Deirdre, I was only joking. I know how remaining human has always been important to you. It’s just that this whole thing is so exciting for me. You should remember how it was.”

  I thought for a minute before answering. I remembered all too well my initial brush with what I had become and it was anything but exciting. I’d had no one to counsel me, to support me; I had managed to survive by my wits alone, and through the intercession of a bloody and mindless war providing me with an endless supply of dying bodies on which to feed. It had been an initiation only into death and decay and the despair of unending life. For me, there had been no excitement, no joy, no hope.

  “Yes, I do indeed remember how it was.” I moved out of his embrace, got up from the bed, went to the door and opened it. “I have to see Larry.”

  It took some time to locate the administrative offices of the Cadre. The entire area below the Imperial was like a maze, endless corridors of closed doors through which I padded, barefoot, guided only by an inner sense of where I would place such offices. The halls were empty and as I walked I imagined scores of Cadre vampires prowling the streets of the city in search of prey. The thought first made me shudder, then drew a grim smile to my face. For ten years I had lived in this city believing I was alone, the only one of my kind. Had I only known then, would it have made a difference to my life? Would it have made a difference to the choices I had made?

  “Choices?” I muttered to myself, following the faint noise of activity and voices I’d finally picked up. “When was I ever given choices?”

  “Deirdre?”

  I looked up and saw Ron, standing in an open doorway. “I want to see Larry.”

  He looked at me and shook his head. “Well, you sure won’t find him here.”

  I paused for a moment, collecting my anger, centering it and met his eyes with a cold, direct stare. “Look, Ron, I’ve had enough of all of this bureaucratic secrecy. I have a right to speak with him, I need to speak to him. If you won’t tell me where he is, I’ll pull this goddamned place down around us. So help me God, I will.”

  “Deirdre.” Victor’s smooth calm voice preceded his entrance. “No need for violence, my dear. If you want to see Larry, then by all means you shall. Ron would be happy to take you, wouldn’t you, Ron?” The nuances of his tone merely infuriated me further. Humor her, they said, give the little lady what she wants so that she’ll go away and leave us to our important business.

  Ron laughed, the sound a combination of nervousness and eagerness. “I’d take Deirdre anywhere. She should know that by now.” Then he looked down at my feet. “Where are your shoes? It’ll be cold where we’re going.”

  “Gone,” I said simply, “and it’s cold everywhere, Ron.”

  “Deirdre.” Victor nodded a dismissal and turned to retreat into his office, then spun around. “Oh, and sometime after you are done speaking to Larry, you and I will need to talk about the trial. At your convenience, of course, but we should make it soon.”

  “Fine,” I agreed, “I’ll come back afterwards, if that’s all right.”

  “Watch yourself, my dear.” His face twisted into a grimace, “I understand Larry’s been highly agitated these past few hours.”

  “I can take care of myself, Victor.”

  He laughed. “Yes, so I’ve heard. Until later then.”

  Ron touched me lightly on the elbow after Victor went into his office and closed the door. “Are you sure you don’t want to put on a pair of shoes, Deirdre?”

  I shrugged and gave him a small smile. “Cold feet are the least of my worries, Ron. Besides, my favorite pair got lost on the streets last night.” At his questioning look, I shook my head. “It’s a long story. And one I’m sure others will be happy to tell you. For now, let’s go. I don’t really know why I feel compelled to talk to Larry, but I would like to get it over with as quickly as possible.”

  Ron nodded. “Yeah, I hear you. Larry’s one real strange guy. Gives me the creeps.”

  I said nothing, but allowed Ron to lead me back through the corridors and to the elevators. Once inside with the doors shut, he opened the control panel and, taking a key from his pocket, inserted it and dialed in a code on a computerized key pad. The elevator started down with a bit of a jolt, throwing me off balance and into Ron’s steadying arms. We stood for a second, his hands on my shoulders and I blushed, remembering shared intimacies with this man.

  I hadn’t known what he was at the time; had no idea of who he really was and why he’d befriended me. He was, I thought, just another man, a source of blood and comfort, one more in an ever-expanding list. And he’d made himself available during a time when I had desperately needed someone. Finding out that Ron was working for the Cadre was a betrayal, but no more of one than his finding out that I was married to a then mortal man. I thought that the scores between us had been evened.

  “Deirdre,” his voice caught on my name as his hands reluctantly let go of my shoulders. I stepped back from him, and our eyes met. In a brief flash I felt my mind laid open in front of him; my recent fears and insecurities about what Mitch had become, my uncertainty about our future together, underneath all of which flowed a strong undercurrent of love. In Ron’s mind there lay a submerged anger and a passion that he feared would forever go unsatisfied.

  “Ron,” I reached up, gently touched his cheek and the moment’s intuition faded, leaving only a wash of sadness in its wake. Of all beings, I knew what it was like to be unloved, to contemplate centuries of aloneness; I had lost Mitch once and upon finding him again, had made a conscious decision to accept losing him eternally in his death. It was true that circumstances and an impetuous act had taken that decision out of my hands. Somehow, to contemplate loving him for all eternity, to have him in front of me, visible and live, and not be able to act on that love, was truly horrible.

  “Oh, Ron, I’m so sorry.” My voice was soft and I brushed away the forming tears as the elevator doors opened on our final destination: the holding pens of the Cadre.

  Chapter 10

  Ron was right; I should have worn my shoes. The floor was made of rough concrete and my feet were still tender from the abuse I had inadvertently put them through the previous night. And with one step off the elevator I felt a bone-chilling coldness sweep up my legs.

  I followed him through dimly lit, winding corridors, totally different from the ones found on the upper levels. This area was almost like a cave, with no doorways, no windows, and the concrete block walls painted gray. I tried very hard not to imagine how far underground we were, but failed and the claustrophobic feeling that I’d felt earlier returned, stronger than before, overwhelming in its intensity. By the time we arrived at the end of the maze and Ron was unlocking the door, my pulse had quickened and my breath was coming in shallow gasps.

  “Not very pleasant down here, is it?” He smiled at me, his one hand on the knob of the heavy metal door, his other brushed my shoulder in a gesture meant to reassure.

  “No,” I said, as he pushed open the door. “But then jails aren’t supposed to be pleasant, are they?”

  A flood of light spilled into the hallway from the room. I squinted and shook my head. “Why is it so bright in there?”

  “Sun lamps,” Ron said, reaching his hand around the doorjamb, finding the switch and turning them completely off. The sudden absence of brightness seemed like a blessing. I rubbed my hands over my eyes and I noticed that Ron did the same. “There’s something about the par
ticular intensity of the light that acts as a deterrent.”

  “Deterrent?” My voice rose slightly and echoed down the hallway. “Deterrent? Hell, it seems close to torture.” I began to have second and even third thoughts on the benign nature of the Cadre’s justice system. “Is this where I would have been held had I been found guilty?”

  Ron gave me a curious glance and nodded.

  “Jesus,” the word escaped my lips almost unconsciously. “Hundreds of years locked away down here in an airtight cell, no food, no escape, and sun lamps? Sun lamps?” I started to laugh, “No wonder everyone in the Cadre is so obedient to Victor’s every whim. No wonder many people choose suicide over detention.”

  “Well, I admit it seems rather bleak, but vampires have survived it. . . .”

  “Bleak, Ron? Bleak doesn’t even come close.” I shuddered violently, still hesitating in the doorway. If this was the Cadre’s version of “humane” punishment, I hated to contemplate the other alternatives. “At least a stake through the heart is quick and clean. And kinder.”

  Ron shrugged. “This is the way it is, Deirdre. The way it’s always been.”

  “Well, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “And whether you like it or not doesn’t matter. Do you want to go in, or not?”

  I nodded. “Yes, let’s go in.” And we entered.

  Even had I not known what this area of the Cadre’s quarters was meant for, I could have surmised its purpose from the furnishings. A metal desk and a few uncomfortable chairs were scattered around what looked like a reception area. The desk held only an empty in-out basket, a calendar blotter, and a telephone. With the sun lamps off, the lighting consisted of a few overhead fluorescent fixtures. Everything was utilitarian and nondescript, unlike the flush luxury of the personal living quarters. It was a waiting area.