Crave

by Karen E. Taylor

  “Miss, er, Deirdre? Did you need anything else? I notice that you have no place to sleep.”

  “There is the bed, Claude. That will be fine.”

  He looked horrified. “But, what about your coffin?”

  I laughed and shrugged. “I do not have a coffin. And I do not need one.”

  “But, what about protection?”

  “Claude, do you actually think a coffin gives you protection? Keeps you safe? What’s to stop someone from opening the lid? The sanctity of vampire sleep? I doubt it.”

  He shook his head and gave me a wry grin. “It gives me the creeps to think about sleeping in the open.”

  I smiled and pointedly walked to the door, grasping the knob. “And it gives me the creeps, as you say, to think about sleeping any other way. Good night, Claude.”

  I locked the door after he left and turned the dead bolt. A useless gesture, I knew, against creatures that could turn into a mist and drift right in. But for the most part, Cadre members were painfully polite. I had no fear of them interrupting my rest.

  Stripping off my clothes, I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. As the water warmed, I looked into the mirror. “You have a daughter,” I whispered to my reflection. “A daughter.” And I smiled.

  The hot shower was relaxing and soothing. I toweled myself dry, flipped off the lights, pulled the heavy red brocade spread from the bed and crawled in. Despite all of the events and revelations of the past few days, I knew I would sleep. And sleep well. Everything would eventually work itself out, I thought, even with Mitch. The Cat will forgive. And I will find my daughter and make her understand.

  “Yes, the Cat will forgive and it will all work out,” I assured myself as I drifted to sleep. “I have a daughter.”

  I am not sure how he got into the room. But suddenly, here he is, next to me in the bed. Oh, the dear familiarity of that body and those hands. My heart rises up within me and I start to speak his name. “No.” He lays his hand over my mouth. “Don’t speak. No words.” And so I lie silent, listening to the sweet whispers his lips give to my flesh. He kisses my face, my neck, gently and slowly tracing the slope of skin from breasts to belly, his canines lightly grazing, testing, nipping, searching. I gasp and lick my lips as he works his way lower, still probing with tongue and teeth. Then he rears his head back and strikes, his fangs cut into my flesh and I feel the irresistible pull of blood rushing from the center of my being in answer to his need. I cry out, wordless because of his command, unaware of everything but the relentless tremors of my spiraling orgasm.

  When the shudders subside, he looks up at me and smiles, blood smeared around his mouth. “Mitch,” I say, my voice still soft and hoarse, filled with love, “that was wonderful. But how . . .”

  He puts his hand over my mouth again. “No words, remember? I have missed you.” He laughs and his face twists, changing. In the dim light it looks brutal, bestial. He licks my blood from his lips and smiles. “Yes, I have missed you. But Victor is right. She’s good. Damned good.”

  The Cat howls within me and bursts through in fury. Before I can whisper the words to stop, she flings herself onto him. Claws extended, she rips the smile off Mitch’s face; blood spurts all around us, driving her into a deep frenzy of slashing and tearing. His skin hangs in tatters, and his smile now consists only of teeth and gore, frozen in place.

  I leap on top of him, front claws digging into his neck, back claws raking open his stomach and groin. Burrowing my muzzle deep into his chest, I search and find the ultimate reward, his steaming-hot and beating heart. I shake it from side to side, tearing it away from the anchoring arteries, ripping it free from his cold, betraying body. I savor the taste of him, bite down hard, chew and swallow. When the last morsel is gone, I jump down and settle onto the floor, leaving his grinning corpse on the bed. Methodically and fastidiously, I go about grooming all the blood from my fur: a delightful task for his blood feeds me like no blood ever had before. I take my time, what is time to me? I am free of love and honor and conscience, free finally of the other.

  A few more strokes of my tongue, and I am totally clean. I jump back up on the bed, and push the covers over him, rolling him closer to the edge, nudging him with my head until he falls with a sodden thump. I lie down again and close my eyes. A deep contented rumble vibrates through my body, my tail twitches once or twice, I yawn. And sleep.

  Chapter 26

  “Jesus Christ!” I sat straight up in a cold sweat and looked around me. No blood, no body, no Cat. “So much for forgiveness,” I said, and swung my legs over the side of the bed, shuddering slightly at the remembrance of Mitch’s body lying there on the floor. The dream had seemed so real; even now the taste of him lingered in my mouth. And his blood had been so sweet, his death so satisfying. I shivered and went into the bathroom to splash cold water onto my face.

  “I can hardly wait to hear what Sam has to say about all of this,” I said. Checking the clock at the bedside table, I saw that it was nearing 4:00 p.m. I had slept a good long time, but felt weary and drained. “A little more sleep and a lot less dream would have been good.” Worse, the dream of blood had awakened my hunger; I would need to feed soon, if only to have the strength for my next task.

  I had to find Lily as quickly as possible. There was no way I could make up for her feelings of abandonment and hatred, but I had not known of her prior to this. Whether I should have known, whether I had suspected her existence somewhere deep in my mind, was unimportant now. What was important was that I find her.

  Hopefully, when found she would be alone, having released whatever hold she’d had on Mitch. I did not want to see Mitch. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. The dream had been awful enough. I had no desire to repeat it in real life.

  I sighed, picked up my clothes and promptly dropped them back to the floor. They were travel-worn and stained with wine; I crinkled my nose with distaste at the thought of putting them back on. On impulse, I threw open the door of a heavy armoire and found to my delight a heavy terry-cloth robe hanging there. I wondered briefly, as I wrapped myself in it, whether the Cadre provided these much like the higher-class hotels, or if it had been forgotten by the last occupant and ignored by the cleaning staff. It did not really matter; it was clean and fresh. As I was tying the sash at the waist, there was a soft knock on the door.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Deirdre? I’m back; let me in, sister.”

  I smiled, I should have recognized the knock. I flung open the door and Vivienne threw herself into my arms, hugging the breath out of my body and depositing a warm and lingering kiss on my lips.

  She laughed, that soft metallic giggle I found entrancing and annoying at the same time. As I often found her.

  “I heard you were here, ma chérie, as soon as I woke up. These long flights, you know how it is. It has been so long; you are a bad sister for staying away so long. But oh”—and she gave me another hug and kiss—“it is so good to see you. I also hear that Mitch, he is not with you. So we will have the time for a nice long girl talk, no?”

  “Well,” I said, putting the robe back to rights and tightening the sash again after her enthusiastic hugs, “I have some time. But first I need some clothes. I came away in a bit of a hurry, you see, and did not pack much.”

  She gave a little disdaining puff. “You are always in a bit of a hurry, Deirdre. Never having time for anything. But come along to my room; I can give you clothes. And then we will go out together, yes? I am famished.”

  She grabbed my arm and dragged me down the hall to her room. Claude struggled in with about ten suitcases, setting them very carefully in a row on the floor. “I brought these in as soon as I heard you were awake, Miss Courbet.”

  “Merci, Claude. This is my sister, Deirdre.” She threw an arm around my neck. “You are to give her extra-special treatment.”

  Claude nodded. “I have already had the pleasure of meeting Miss Griffin. I trust she slept well.”

  “Well enough
, Claude. Thank you.”

  “Will there be anything more, Miss Courbet?”

  “Not now, Claude, I must get my sister dressed. And after that we shall be going out for a bite.” She winked at me. “Perhaps you would like to join us?”

  He looked back and forth between the two of us, then pulled out his ever-present handkerchief and patted his forehead. “I have already eaten,” he said, “but if you need me to come with you, I would of course be delighted.”

  “No, no, Claude. That is not necessary. And how is Victor these days?”

  He jumped guiltily. “He is fine. Just fine.” He looked over at me. I shook my head and he relaxed. “You know how he is; he has good days and bad days.”

  “As do we all, mon petit chou.”

  “So, if there isn’t anything else?”

  “No, you may go.” She walked over to him, stretched up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good evening, Claude.”

  He gave us each a small bow and walked out the door, shutting it carefully and precisely behind him. We heard his heavy footsteps move down the hall, heard the elevator bell ring.

  “I know,” she said, her voice soft, but filled with laughter. “You must be thinking, ‘What was she thinking?’ ”

  “Not at all, he seems nice. And you certainly can’t fault his manners. But after Sam, you must admit that he is rather an odd choice.”

  “What does Sam have to do with it? It is none of his business who I choose to . . .” She stopped short and put her hand up to her mouth. “Oh, you think that Claude and I are lovers? No, no and no.” She giggled again. “Although I do think that it might be an intriguing possibility. But no, Deirdre, he was here to protect my interests while I was in Paris. He is very loyal to me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am the only one who treats him like he is a member here. The rest of them avoid him, as if being overweight were contagious. One would think that after centuries, they would look less to outer qualities and more to the inner virtues.” She shrugged. “And Victor likes him.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Victor gets out of his cell all the time,” she informed me with another giggle. “The other house leaders do not know. They fear him, you know, as well they should, since they put him there.”

  “But aren’t you in charge of the Cadre?”

  She rolled her eyes. “In name, yes. And they defer to me; but we are ruled now by council decisions. And so Victor was put away.”

  “He does not need to be there.”

  “No, you are right. But that was not a question. You have seen him?”

  I told her the story as she unpacked. During the process, Vivienne would throw a dress or skirt at me and have me try it on for her. As I finished explaining why I had to go to New Orleans to find Lily as soon as possible, she nodded and removed one final piece from her suitcase. “Here, here is what you should wear tonight; it is perfect for you and you will feel more comfortable appropriately dressed. And yes, of course you should go to New Orleans to see your daughter. But tomorrow I will help you with the arrangements. Perhaps I should even send Claude with you? Yes.” She nodded again and tossed me the garment. “He will be able to help you, I’m sure.”

  I looked at what she had chosen for me. It was a shiny black vinyl bodysuit. “This will make me more comfortable?” I smiled. “Are we going scuba diving?”

  “No, silly. We are going to my club. Dangerous Crossings. Now go and change. I want you to look magnificent tonight.”

  As I dressed, I thought about Vivienne. While she called me sister, we were not related by anything other than Max’s insatiable hunger. He had found her in a brothel in Paris, she’d told me once, and changed her life forever. “That bastard. It is not that I resented him for that, mon chou,” she’d explained. “I had a life that could only be improved. But he was just so distant and superior. Oh, you knew how he was. He made me want to scream and tear his hair out. I was so very happy when he died.”

  I remembered how she’d come over to my side during my trial for Max’s death. And how we’d spent time together watching movies while Sam experimented on us like research animals, searching for the drug that could paralyze vampires.

  I also remembered, less fondly, that she was the one who had trained Mitch how to transform into animal form. Mitch, in turn, had tried to train me. But I could only transform to the Cat under duress, and had never been particularly at ease with the concept, preferring instead to stay in my human shape.

  Perhaps, though, I thought as I zipped up the front of my outfit, she could train me how to control the Cat. I would ask her.

  Looking in the mirror, I scowled. The bodysuit fabric was thin and it fit over my body like a second skin. I felt naked, and wondered again how this would make me more comfortable. But I did not have much time to worry about it for the door opened and Vivienne came in, looked me up and down and clapped her hands together. “Perfect,” she said. “But let us do something different with your hair.” And she proceeded to slick it back and roll it into a tight bun at the nape of my neck, pulling jeweled pins out of her own hair to fasten it. “There, now you are perfect. Let’s go.”

  If I hadn’t known the way by heart, I would never have recognized our final destination. Dangerous Crossings was what Vivienne had made of the Ballroom of Romance.

  “Did I not tell you I was going to renovate the whole place?”

  I looked around in disbelief. “You may have mentioned the fact. But this place looks like a dungeon.”

  The walls had been covered in heavy stone and cement and were decorated with implements of torture. And crucifixes. “It is very nice,” I said, knowing that she would want me to say something. “Unique.”

  Vivienne laughed. “Deirdre, my sister, you are not a good liar. Very nice? It looks like a nightmare one might have about the Inquisition. But they do not care; we have a waiting list for the next year or so. I do not understand. One would think that the world is full of more than enough torture for humans. And still they pay hundreds of dollars to get in, hundreds of more dollars for special scenarios. Not to mention the exorbitant liquor prices we charge. It is worse than a nightmare; it is a sin.” She laughed again, and the metallic peals echoed in the empty room. “Then again, it serves a purpose. For all concerned. And I get no complaints.”

  “So, if this place is so popular, where is everyone? By now the Ballroom would have been so crowded you wouldn’t be able to move.”

  “But this is not the Ballroom, Deirdre. And it is early yet; we don’t really open for another hour or so. It is an off night, tonight; weekends are really our best times. We’ll get enough people here, though, to give you a feel for what we are. And easily enough to offer a good selection of choices for the evening’s meal.”

  “You feed off the customers? Is that a good idea?”

  She put an arm around me and began to lead me across the room. “It is a wonderful idea.” Giggling as she opened the door that led to the private offices, she leaned over and whispered in my ear, “For that, they pay extra.”

  Chapter 27

  The area behind the club had changed as well. “Private rooms,” Vivienne explained. “I had to give them all the dungeon feel as well. But this next you should find amusing, at least.” We stopped outside an office door that now displayed a small but ornate brass plaque embossed with the words “Max’s Office.” It hung off center, just a few inches too many to the right.

  “It’s crooked,” I said.

  “But of course it is.” She opened the door. “It had to be to cover the hole.”

  I gasped when I saw what she meant. “But this is the original door.” I reached over and felt the splintered hole. “This wasn’t here when I owned the place.”

  “No, I had it taken down for you. I thought you’d feel more comfortable that way. But now I own the club. And I like the reminder.”

  “Reminder?” Shivering, I moved my hand from the door and held it out in front of my face
, as if I could still see Max’s blood. “For what do you need a reminder?”

  “That our lives, no matter how long they are, can always be ended. Abruptly and violently. And often by someone we trust and care for. Maybe even someone we love.”

  I looked at her in surprise. I had never known her to be so serious about anything. “It is a very good thing to remember.”

  She laughed then. “It is a morbid thing to remember, you mean. Sam says it gives him the creeps. But he will be joining us here soon, a special occasion because you are here. He does not care for the club all that much.”

  “That does not surprise me.”

  “And I can tell that you do not either, little sister.”

  “I did not say that I did not care for it. It is certainly different than I expected . . .”

  She shrugged. “It does not matter to me whether you like it or not. You have always been more puritanical than I ever was. I find the place amusing is all. And when it stops being amusing, I will sell it and move on.”

  “Fair enough, Vivienne. I was not sitting in judgment of you.”

  “No?” She gave a little flip of her hand. “I felt that you were. But, let us not talk of that. Wine?”

  “Yes, please.” I settled in on the couch and she went over to the bar and opened a bottle. “I notice that you didn’t redecorate the office to match the rest of the place.” I ran my hand over the floral chintz upholstery. “Why not?”

  She gave me a bright smile and handed me a glass of wine. “I did not want to work in a dungeon, you see. There is enough torture to have to sit with the accountants and lawyers.”

  “I can certainly agree with that.”

  The door opened and Sam came in.