“What?” I said.
He hopped over to the chair on which his pants hung, took out his wallet and handed it to me. “You are going to need some money.”
“Oh. Money. Yes, that’s right. I have no money. Thank you.” I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, but failed.
“There’s got to be an explanation, you know. I wouldn’t give up hope.”
“Hope? That is a human emotion. I am not human, Sam, and I have no hope. Do not ever use that word around me again.” I slammed the door, cut through the motel parking lot and walked into the restaurant across the street.
Sitting at the counter, I realized I was shaking. Either with anger, sadness or hunger; I could not really tell the difference. I picked up a menu and glanced at it while waiting for the waitress. Sam would probably want breakfast before we started back driving.
“What’ll you have?” The woman behind the counter wiped it off with a wet cloth and set out silverware and a napkin.
“Coffee,” I said. “Two cups. And”—I looked back at the menu, thinking what the hell, I could order it even if I couldn’t eat it—“the three-egg breakfast.”
“Bacon or sausage?”
“Both.”
“Bread?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
She looked at me and gave me a tired smile. “No, what kind of bread? Toast, muffin or biscuits?”
“All three?”
She shrugged and wrote it down. “It’ll cost you extra, honey, but it’s not my bill. You must be awfully hungry.”
“You have no idea,” I said. “I am starving to death. But, unfortunately, the breakfast is not for me, but for a friend who will be joining me. I can’t eat anything; I’m on a liquid diet.”
“Suit yourself.” She pulled two mugs out from under the counter and poured coffee, pushed a pitcher of cream over to me and moved away.
I picked up one of the mugs and sipped at it, savoring the warmth. It felt familiar in my hands; the coffee smell taking me back in time to when I used to serve coffee in a place like this.
“If only,” I whispered.
“If only what?” Sam sat down next to me. I hadn’t even heard him approach.
“If only I could eat the fabulous breakfast I just ordered for you.” I smiled at him. “I’m sorry, Sam, I should not have lost my temper just now. None of this is your fault and you are only trying to help.”
“You ordered me breakfast? Really?”
I gave him a smile. “Well, you are paying. It is the very least I could do.”
He poured cream and spooned some sugar into his cup. “You don’t like having to depend on anyone, do you?” He took a drink of his coffee.
“No, not at all. I am used to making my own way.”
“And you will again. But for now you need a little help. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. And everything. It should not be this way. And what would have happened had you not been here to help me?”
“You’d have found another way.” He took another sip of his coffee. “This is good stuff,” he said. “Just what the doctor ordered.”
“Here you go.” The waitress set a plate down in front of Sam, heaped with food.
“This is great, thank you. But who’s going to eat it with me?”
I shook my head; the smell of the bacon and sausage and eggs was making me nauseous. “You’re on your own, Sam. All I can do is order.” I reached into my pocket and handed him his wallet. “Take your time. If you give me the keys, I will wait in the car.”
He made a move to hand them to me, then pulled them back. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“If you say so.” He dropped the keys into my extended hand. “But no joyriding without me.”
“That’s probably another word we should avoid.”
“Deirdre . . .”
“Never mind, Sam. I will survive. I’m damned good at that.”
I had barely opened the car door and sat down when Sam came out of the restaurant.
“You could not possibly have eaten, Sam,” I said when he climbed in and started the engine.
“I’m not hungry. I’ll pick something up a little later and eat while I drive. And I didn’t like the thought of you being alone.”
I laughed. “I have been more alone than you could ever imagine, Sam, for most of my life. Fifteen minutes sitting by myself in your car can hardly make a dent in it.”
“Even so. Let’s just go.” He pulled the car out onto the street. “I’m anxious to get home.”
I sighed. “Yes, let’s go.”
He remained quiet until we reached the turnpike. “So, what will you do when we get to the city? With Viv out of town, I’m not sure I can get you into Cadre headquarters. Do you have any other place to stay?”
“No. They will let me in.”
“And then? To be honest, Deirdre, I can’t see you living like the rest of the Cadre. They are leeches.”
“No, they are vampires, although I will grant you that it’s a delicate distinction.”
Sam snorted. “You know what I mean.”
I shrugged. “I’ll have to do something. Betsy McCain asked me to work as a consultant last time I was in town. I could do worse, I suppose, than going back to Griffin Designs. To be honest, I miss the excitement of the business. Now, at least.”
He nodded. “That sounds like a good plan. And I’m sure that when Vivienne comes back, she’ll make sure that you have enough to live on until you get back on your feet.”
I looked over at him. “It is not the money, Sam, it really isn’t. It is just the way he did it. Callously and calculated. If he wanted me dead, a stake through the heart would have been kinder, cleaner. Damn it, you have got to understand. Mitch was all I had. All I lived for. I would have let him kill me. No, I should have. It is the way it works, after all.”
“The Mitch I knew would never kill you.”
“No. But I’m beginning to think he was never the Mitch any of us knew.”
“But why do you think he wants you dead?”
“Because he said so. Period.”
“So that’s why you don’t want to see him again? Because you think he’ll kill you?”
“Either he will kill me or the Cat will kill him. There seems to be no other alternative.”
“The cat? What the hell is the cat?”
“My alternate form. You surely must talk about these things with Vivienne.”
He nodded. “Ah. The inner animal. Yeah, she mentions it every so often. But it’s a metaphorical creature. No one turns into an animal. It just isn’t possible.”
I snorted.
“Really, Deirdre. I’m a doctor and a scientist. There’s no way you can change into a cat. Of any size. So when you say the cat wants to kill Mitch, you really mean that deep down inside you want to kill him. And that’s understandable considering the circumstances. But I don’t for a minute think you’d act on that impulse.”
I gave a bitter little laugh. “Well, I am glad that there is at least one of us who is sure. And you are the doctor and you know best, whereas I, apparently, do not know anything.”
“I didn’t say that, Deirdre.”
“You did not have to. Forget it. As far as I am concerned we have reached the end of this discussion. I have no desire to go through it all over again. Turn on the stereo and sing.”
We spoke only a little on the rest of the trip. Traffic got heavier the closer into New York we came. Sam’s relaxed attitude was replaced with grim determination; his humming had stopped. He gripped the steering wheel now like a lifeline.
“I hate traffic,” he muttered under his breath. “These people are crazy.” But when we emerged into the city itself, he managed a smile. “Almost there,” he said, “and not quite midnight. Where to first?”
“The Imperial. Let’s see if the Cadre is in the mood to entertain prodigals this evening.”
“If I remember correctly, they should welcome you with open arms.
You and Mitch did save them from Larry not too long ago.”
I gave a small laugh. “That is true, I suppose, in theory. Except I was the one who created Larry. Some might think I was merely cleaning up my own mess.”
“But you must have some supporters in the group?”
I thought. “No, not really. If I hadn’t killed Max, of course, he would welcome me. Victor has no good reason to love me. Ron Wilkes is dead. Even Fred, who would have let me in just to cause trouble, is dead. Other than Vivienne, there is no one to whom I can turn. It is rather ironic, in a way. For all those years, I never even dreamed of their existence. And when I finally did discover them, I went out of my way to make enemies of the whole lot. Never thinking that someday I would need their support.”
He pulled his car into a parking garage. “Well, most of them know me. Or should. And Vivienne is still leader, so I have some small power, if only because I can whisper in her ear.” His voice grew tense. Was this how Mitch had felt, I wondered, when he’d still been human?
Sam shrugged off his resentment. “They are a self-serving crowd, there’s no doubt about that. But if we’re lucky, Claude will be watching the door tonight.”
“Claude?”
“He’s new. Originally from New Orleans, I gather. Mostly, he gets stuck with the jobs no one else wants to do. New man and all that. Lately he’s been guarding Victor.”
“Guarding Victor?”
“They’ve been keeping him under lock and key, in the basement somewhere. Whether to stop him from wreaking havoc on himself or them, I’ve never been able to ascertain. He’s apparently gotten senile. Or so they fear.”
“Poor Victor. And there’s one more thing for which he can hold me accountable.”
“I don’t think he’s capable enough of reasoning it out that far. The few times I’ve seen him, he was barely able to focus his eyes.”
Sam found a parking space and stopped the car. I did not move from my seat.
“You know, Deirdre, if you don’t want to do this, you can stay at my place. It’s quite safe, I promise you.”
“I am sure it is, Sam. But it’s not that.” I opened the car door and slid out. “Shall we?”
Chapter 23
Sam misunderstood my reluctance. I had no fear of my welcome from the Cadre. Regardless of the bad blood that had flowed between us, they had to take me in. Kinship meant a great deal to those whose real families had died centuries ago. For most of them, this organization was all they had. And I knew that I could hold my own with all of them, should I have to force my way in.
No, my problem was not with the Cadre. It was this place, so fraught with memories and ghosts of love. Damn it, I thought, as we got onto the elevator to the restaurant, how the hell can less than five years with one person make such a difference? Five years was nothing to me. Five years was a mere blink, a moment. And yet, that minuscule portion of time defined me, baptized me. Mitch had washed me clean with his blood and his love.
And now he is gone, the Cat growled within me, and we will be better without him.
“Never.”
Sam gave me a curious look as the elevator doors opened. “What?”
“Nothing. Just having an argument with myself.”
He smiled. “Let me know who wins, okay?”
We entered the bar of The Imperial, and Sam spotted a table in a corner. “Why don’t you go sit down and order us a drink of something? I’ll see who’s around.”
I crossed the room, feeling horribly out of place, dressed as I was in jeans and flannel shirt. But when I sat down, I took off the shirt. At least the tank top underneath was moderately fashionable and mildly sexy. I laughed to myself as I motioned to a waiter. My clothes did not matter, my self-image did not matter. No one ever saw the same person I saw in the mirror. They only saw the vampire mystique.
“Good evening,” the waiter said automatically, then actually looked at me and smiled. “Oh, hi, you’re back. Nice to see you again. You drinking wine tonight?”
“Excuse me?” I studied his face and had no recollection of ever having seen him before.
“Wine? Are you having wine?”
“Wine would be fine, thank you. Two glasses, please, and I prefer red, if you would be so kind.”
He laughed. “Like I could forget the kind of wine you drink. Be right back.”
I watched him walk away. I suppose it was possible that I’d had dealings with him at some point. But it would’ve been over a year ago and I should have remembered.
Then Sam waved from the other side of the room and began walking in my direction, accompanied by one of the largest men I’d ever seen. For all of that, the man remained distinctive and powerful, and I guessed that this must be the Claude of whom Sam had spoken.
His face creased in a smile of recognition, mounds of flesh narrowing his eyes. Pushing Sam aside, he surprised me by leaning over the table and kissing me first on one cheek, then on the other. “Ma chérie,” he said. “I am happy to see you back so soon. But without your perfume. And how is our friend, the bokor?”
I pulled away from his unwelcome attention. “Excuse me? Do I know you?”
“But of course you do.” Then he stopped and stared deep into my eyes. “Oh. My. You aren’t Lily, are you?”
I held his gaze until sweat began to form on his forehead. Then I dropped him. “No, I am not Lily. I am Deirdre Griffin. Or Dorothy Grey, if you prefer. Of the house of Alveros. And you?”
He relaxed and took out an embroidered handkerchief to wipe his brow. Stashing it back inside his vest pocket, he made a little bow and gave my hand a small kiss. “Claude Adams, newest member of the house of Courbet. Miss Griffin, I do apologize for my untoward familiarity.”
“No matter, Claude. I see Vivienne has taught you proper manners at least.” I smiled at him. “Now, why on earth would you think I was someone called Lily?”
“I met a charming little woman-child about two weeks ago. She was staying at my hotel—I own the Westwood Hotel, Miss Griffin, and should you ever need a room, we would be most happy to serve you.”
“Thank you. And the woman?”
“Oh, it is just that the resemblance is so striking. I see little differences now, of course, and I knew at the time that she wasn’t quite one of us. But she could be your twin. She’d come to town from New Orleans, she’d told me. And since I was from the same city, well, we sort of had a bond. She came here fairly often, for about two weeks, I think. And then she was gone without even a good-bye. We shipped some boxes for her at the hotel, to an address in New Orleans, so she must have gone back. I never did find out why she was here; perhaps it was a familial matter.”
“And her name is Lily?”
Claude nodded. “Lily Williams, yes. I would remember anyway, even if we’d never had any further contact outside the hotel. She had been paying for her room in cash at first, and there was some problem with that at registration. You can’t get anywhere these days without a credit card, you know?”
I gave a rough laugh. “Yes, I do indeed.”
“Although, now that I think about it, she checked out with a card. Funny, after that scene at registration, when she swore up and down she hadn’t one.”
The waiter came over and brought us our wine. “Thanks, Bobby,” Claude said. “Bring another glass for me, if you will. And put it all on my tab.”
I sipped my wine and nodded. “Serving the good stuff, I see.”
Claude laughed. “Bobby must think you are Lily also. She managed to develop very expensive tastes while she was here. After confessing to me that first night we all sat down together that the last bottle of wine she’d drunk was swill, I found the change interesting. But looking back, I think now she was merely trying to impress Victor.”
“Victor?” I choked. “Victor met this woman?”
“Yes. He was quite adamant about being introduced to her, as I remember. It had been a while since he’d shown any interest in anything, so I obliged him.”
Sam cleared his throat. “If Victor didn’t comment on the resemblance, Claude, it can’t have been all that great.”
“No, I swear, Sam. They are almost identical. But Victor”—Claude shrugged and made a small motion to his head—“well, he’s not quite right, so perhaps he does not remember Miss Griffin.”
“For Victor to not remember me, Claude, he would have to be dead.” I shook my head. “And this whole affair is all very strange. A woman arrives here from New Orleans; my identical twin, but with bad taste in wine. She stays at your hotel and befriends you to the point where you bring her here and introduce her to Victor. Who doesn’t recognize the resemblance. She runs up huge bills, which she manages to pay with a previously nonexistent credit card. Then vanishes again, supposedly for New Orleans. A rather hard-to-believe story, I think.”
“But it’s all true, Miss Griffin.” Claude dabbed his forehead again, this time with one of the cocktail napkins. “Except for my bringing her here. She was just here, having had dinner with one of our regulars.”
I sighed. “Which one of your regulars?”
“Betsy McCain. Do you know her?”
I jumped up from my seat, managing to knock into the waiter who was bringing Claude’s wine. The glass fell to the floor and shattered at my feet, splashing the legs of my jeans with wine. “Great, just bloody great. And so appropriate that I go stained to this meeting.”
“Deirdre?” Sam stood up and touched my arm. “What is it? What meeting?”
“I need to see Victor. Right now.”
Claude rolled his eyes. “I don’t think that is possible, Miss Griffin. He’s not supposed to have visitors. He is, as I have said . . .”
“Do not try to tell me again, Claude, that Victor is not right. He is the oldest. And the most powerful among us. If he chooses to have you all think that he is senile, then that is what you will think. And I would be willing to bet my now-nonexistent fortune that he’s been having at least one goddamned visitor. A charming little woman-child by the name of Lily Williams.”
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