Miranda was not sure she wanted to hear this. She remembered the insults about her father. She hadn’t even begun to touch on those. And the collection. Hadn’t he said it was his and implied he’d picked it out?
“I was annoyed at your father. I knew who you were and sought you out to deliberately hurt you.”
“I was wondering when you were going to get to the subject of my father.”
“I hate your father for what he did.”
“And what was that?”
“He stole my possessions.” He waved his arm towards the exhibit inside, “Everything in there is mine … or was.”
“That’s absurd! If it’s yours why didn’t you just claim it! There are legal procedures you can go through. You must know that! Even after this little charade, if you were to show me proof of your ownership, I’d give everything rightfully yours back to you. My father would have also. We are not thieves and the fact you express hatred towards my father means you’re a little unhinged. He’s dead or haven’t you heard? And yet you continue to seethe over an untrue allegation?”
“It’s you that’s in error.”
“As I said, if it’s yours, you just need claim it.”
“I already have. It’s home with me now.”
“What? What new nonsense is this? It’s gibberish and you are insane! Completely and outrageously insane!
Miranda could feel her adrenalin pumping inside of her. She hadn’t lost her temper this badly in years. And who better to unleash it on than a man that was a sniveling coward and a liar. Her father wasn’t here to defend himself, but Miranda would make sure his memory was protected.
“No, not insane, Miranda. Only tired,” Peter said, his eyes burning like twin fires. There was an eerie glow that seemed to be held within them, an inner blaze that Miranda didn’t think came from the moon’s reflection.
The man’s mood changed again. His posture had softened as had his tone. He really did seem fatigued – profoundly so.
“I wish I could explain, but now isn’t the right time. However, I do apologize for my remark. You are exceedingly beautiful. I’m surprised you put so little value on what others would consider a prize.”
Miranda considered the man and his apology. She felt somewhat assuaged by it, but not quite. He still had called her father a thief, but then so had Reginald. Not in those words, but that was the implication.
She studied his face in the moonlight. His appearance was what was making her decision so difficult. She would have long since dismissed anyone else. Stormed off and rejoined the crowd, but Peter? She was attracted to him – plain and simple. There was a sexual longing within her that went past what she’d known before. She didn’t understand the pull she had towards him, but if she had to describe it, she’d say it was a hunger. A deep ravenous hunger, a thirst that seemed to increase the more she saw of him – the more she was near him.
Something within urged her to fight him – and her unnatural sexual desire. She understood why he was so cocky. How many other girls had fallen victim to his undeniable charm? Had needed their hunger quenched by this irresistible cad? Well, she wouldn’t be one of them since she didn’t even know which Peter was the real one. Was he the cruel, callous, sharp-tongued devil or the eager apologist? Then there was the helpless victim who professed to want justice, but did nothing to obtain it.
Oh, why was she even spending time giving this situation credence by deliberating about it? She didn’t need to go that far since she didn’t even know this idiot’s last name. No, there was an uneasy ambiguity about this mystery man – an elusiveness that he hid behind. She would be aiding and abetting this rogue by making up excuses and tacking on reasons for his boisterous and unmitigated attacks. She would not be filling in any blanks of the ridiculous story told by Just Peter. And if he thought he could spew nonsense with holes in it the size of Lake Louise, he could just forget it. The only thing that Miranda had ever been concerned with hearing was the truth – and it remained the same tonight. Even in the midst of the confection and effervescence of such a sublime evening, she would not mix business with pleasure. Especially pleasure at the expense of reason.
It had taken her awhile, but she’d reached her decision – she’d leave things on a positive note. He’d been contrite and apologized. Even if it wasn’t entirely heartfelt, she’d take it and run.
“If you’ll excuse me.”
“If you wish …”
His voice was one of resignation. He gave a slight bow of his head and regretful frown, but offered no resistance to the idea. Miranda respected that he hadn’t put up a fight, but there was that unspoken yearning that wished he would have pulled her aside and whisked her away to a romantic chateau to claim her heart. She was wise enough to separate delusion from reality, and didn’t break her stride across the green, manicured lawn.
The Strauss waltzes were still playing. Miranda saw Jake talking to another woman. She walked up behind him curious about what was transpiring. She saw them exchange numbers. The tittering of the woman and the kiss he gave her made his intentions crystal clear. Jake was back to his old ways. It seemed that all her delusions were being popped by that pin of reality. It was time for Miranda to go. She’d guessed the spell had been broken and her carriage was officially a pumpkin. It wasn’t only Just Peter that was tired. She was tired, too. She headed for the door. She raised her skirt and began walking up the stairs.
“Miranda! Miranda, where you going, baby?”
There was nothing to say. She had known what Jake was, but had allowed her thinking to become wishful in contemplating anything more. There could never be. Not as long as he thought using her exhibit to meet women and exchange numbers was acceptable – especially when she was still here.
She extended her hand. He kept his hand at his side, his face a mixture of shock and smugness. He was a piece of work. She reached forward and grabbed his hand hanging limply and shook it.
“It’s been real. Thanks so much for the good time, but I really have to move on.”
“What? What’s that mean? What’s this about, Miranda?”
She let go of his hand and was sorry she did for he used it to lightly grab her arm. Did he really think his touch was going to do anything but disgust her at this point?
“She’s what this is about,” Miranda stated very matter-of-factly pointing in the nubile young woman’s direction.
“Phyllis? She’s a business associate. Met her last month at a conference and …”
“And she changed her number and you needed to celebrate the momentous occasion with a kiss? Come on, Jake! Am I stupid and are we in the lower school? I knew what you were when I met you and we had fun. I will give you that. You know how to show a girl a good time, but that’s it.”
“Miranda, it’s not like that. I have feelings for you.”
Miranda couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m sure you do, but they’re your feelings and the only kind you’re capable of having.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Miranda stepped forward and stroked his face.
“It means you’re a plaything …. a very nice, handsome plaything and it’s time to say goodbye.”
Miranda kissed him on his cheek to show him that there were no hard feelings. She gave his hand a squeeze.
“I’ll call you when I get to New York!”
“New York? You’re leaving for New York? But you were supposed to stay here for the week! Remember? We discussed that last night! Come on, Miranda! Miranda, please!”
“I’ll call you tomorrow before I leave. Maybe drop by and see you. You are a charmer, Jake. A womanizing charmer.”
She kissed him again. Miranda felt the fresh night air hit her face. It felt invigorating and she wished the Strauss waltzes could continue, but they wouldn’t. Every dance eventually comes to an end.
Rachel stood by the French doors. She had seen Miranda rejoin the party and head to the steps where Jake had engaged her in conve
rsation. It looked as if Miranda were attempting to leave, and that Jake the Snake was attempting to stop her. Rachel was surprised when she did exit. She could only wonder why. She shrugged her shoulders. Miranda would get hers in due time. She saw Perrone skulking by the punch bowl. He was interested in what Miranda was doing also. Rachel seized the opportunity and quickly made her way out onto the balcony. He hadn’t let her out of his sight all evening and this might be the only chance Rachel got to slip away. She rounded the corner and saw Peter standing to the side of the museum. She pulled him to the spot where there were trees and bushes that well hid their clandestine meeting.
“Peter, there’s someone that needs an introduction.”
“Who, my darling Rachel?” Peter said reaching under the material and kneading Rachel’s breasts. He fingered her nipples. His touch delighted her. She wished there were time for more than fondling, but there would be later.
“A very nosey police detective that has a copper nail in his possession. He found it on the floor. It’s the one we were looking for.”
“Perrone?”
Rachel nodded in the affirmative.
“Do we need him?”
Rachel shook her head no.
“Then bring him downstairs. I’ll make sure he’s welcomed – with open arms.”
Peter leaned down swiftly and kissed her. She felt his hands on her waist. She drew her right leg up and wrapped it around the back of his leg. His full mouth covered hers – his groin pushing against hers. The interlude passed too quickly. His hands went onto her shoulders as he gently moved her away. She adjusted her dress watching him walk away and blend into the night.
She looked down to make sure her breasts were covered and that she was presentable. She looked around the corner and watched Perrone through the pane of glass. He seemed to have lost something – her. It would be perfect timing.
She took her cell phone out of her sequined evening bag. Striding into the room, she walked excitedly making arm gestures as if upset. Perrone spotted her immediately. He was just so predictable. It made things almost too easy.
She continued talking into her phone. Too bad no one was on the other end, not that Perrone would ever know. He only saw what he wanted to anyway. She was beginning to tire of talking nonsensically into a phone. Besides she had the idiot’s attention. She hung up the phone with a flourish. She jammed it into her evening purse. She mouthed the word, “Fuck,” making sure it was seen by the troublemaking police officer. She’d been upset by his intrusive investigation, but it was good that he had gotten way too nosey. It had been a long time since he’d fed. Perrone would service him nicely.
Rachel walked shakily over to the buffet and grabbed a glass of champagne. She made sure to appear upset. She even affected a slight tremor in her hand. The shaking effectively allowed her to spill champagne down the front of the dress she’d just straightened. She jumped back as if in surprise and grabbed some napkins. She began excitedly dabbing at the liquid. She took a quick peek and saw that Perrone had moved closer. It looked for all the world as if Rachel were disturbed by something and Perrone would want to know what that something could be. His mind would consider all the possibilities and wonder if she were distressed because of what he’d said earlier. And the phone call, had Rachel called an accomplice? Was Rachel cracking? Rachel knew her performance was working on the barracuda. Now all she needed to do was reel him in.
She seized another handful of napkins – raising them to her face. She dabbed at her eyes and began heaving as if crying. As her shoulders shook from her gasping, she obviously surveyed the room as if checking to see if anyone noticed. She was careful not to look in Perrone’s direction and accidentally meet his eyes. No one but her little feeding pigeon noticed a thing. She sprang into action, hurriedly running from the room and down the stairs, all the while more than aware she was being followed.
She went to her office, Velvet giving her a welcoming meow from the corner.
“Not now, Velvet. Just a little while longer,” she whispered quietly as she ransacked her desk drawer as if looking for something. She saw Perrone positioned behind a marble column. She withdrew a large key ring from the drawer, letting pens and assorted paper fall to the floor. She slammed the drawer shut and walked past the spot Perrone was hiding without a backward glance. Perrone followed. Velvet followed him.
Rachel went down another level. It was the subterranean level of the museum where things were stored that were no longer used. It was known as Siberia to all museum employees. If something was not needed, it was taken off to Siberia. Nothing of any value was thrown out since the museum didn’t have a huge budget for new expenditures. It meant every specialty item was dragged off to Siberia, just in case it could be recycled. They never were, and so the articles collected dust downstairs in the sub-basement – instead of accumulating the implied snow of the fanciful nickname.
Rachel walked down the hall, her heels clacking noisily on the floor. She heard Perrone and her cat’s padded paws behind her. She reached an end doorway. She held the key in her hand and twisted it in the lock. She heard the click as it opened.
“Got something in there? Something you didn’t want anyone to see?”
Rachel jumped and reacted in horror at being caught red-handed.
“But how did you know?”
She trembled like a leaf as Perrone continued. He was gloatingly confident.
“I’ve been watching you.”
Rachel gasped in surprise.
“Oh, yes, I have. I knew you’d make a mistake. Your type always does. Now if you’ll just step aside. I’ll take a look at what you’ve been hiding.”
Rachel could keep the pretense up no longer. Her lips widened in a victorious, ever-widening grin. Now it was Perrone’s eyes that registered surprise.
“I’d like that,” she said giving a Perrone a hard push through the doors.
His eyes rounded in fear as he saw the contents of the coffin standing before him. A loud scream escaped from the room as Velvet scooted in for a taste of what spilled on the floor.
Rachel closed the door behind him, blocking out his bloodcurdling screams. They would never reach above this level and the guests dancing to Strauss would never hear what it sounded like for a man to die.
The man’s terrified screams echoed in Rachel’s ears. The smell of blood was haunting her thoughts. Her hunger was great and she needed to feed. She spotted Jake in the corner. He was talking to some guests. She walked over to him and intertwined her arm over his.
“May I borrow him for a moment? Museum business, I’m afraid.”
She smiled a smile that revealed nothing of what was going on inside. The guests willingly released Jake into Rachel’s custody, but Jake was being a pill. It made what she was about to do all the more delicious.
They only took two steps when Jake dug in his heels and pulled his arm away from Rachel.
“What the hell is this about? I need to be with my guests!”
“An asshole right up until the very end,” was what Rachel wanted to answer. Instead she said, “It’s Perrone.”
“What’s he got a new theory about you? I got it! He thinks you’re Jack the Ripper!”
Rachel’s belly felt concave. Her stomach contracted in a series of spasms initiated by her craving for blood. Her incisors elongated in response to the anticipation of the feeding. She just needed to get him alone.
“No, it’s about you. He thinks that Fairfield museum is involved in drug smuggling.”
She spoke louder than necessary. It would make him regret stopping and asking her ridiculous questions when they still could be so easily overheard.
“Shhhhh! Are you crazy saying something like that here?”
It was now Jake pulling her outside into the courtyard. He walked to the end of the balcony and stepped over the stonework. Rachel followed. He led her past the spot she’d used to speak to Peter. They kept walking deeper into the small clump of trees. He stopped underneath one o
f them. While the area was secluded, they could still be seen. A pair of lovers came from behind the tree as if in response to her thoughts. It was perfect timing and Rachel seized the opportunity to isolate him.
She grabbed Jake’s hand and led him to the small wooded area behind the museum that had paths and benches. It served as a sanctuary for guests and employees to have lunch, talk, and meditate. She stopped at a marble bench and sat down. She jerked him down next to her. She saw what was showing of Peter’s neck above the stiff, white collar. Her stomach contracted in small gasps as she touched the sharp points of her incisors against her long, red tongue.
“Okay, we’re alone as we’re ever going to be. Now what’s this shit that Perrone is starting and why the hell are you dressed like you’re the wife of Dracula? Honestly, Rach, this Goth thing has got to stop. You’re giving the museum a bad name.”
Adduné (The Vampire's Game) Page 31