“Which is?”
“Your father. Have you forgotten that I said he is not dead?”
“You have a very poor sense of humor.”
“No joke, Miranda. He is a vampire. He’s coming after you.”
“Me? My father is coming after me? For what reason?”
“To make you one also. You see, he is no longer your father, he is like me. Ruthless. A predator on the top of the world’s food chain. He fulfills the vampire’s need to proliferate. The more underlings we create, the greater our power, but we can’t create too many for …”
“They would threaten you. Yes, I get it.”
“You understand.”
“I was read fairy tales many times. What you say is no different than anything they had to say.”
“Fairy tale? Then you still do not take this seriously.”
“As seriously as I take that,” she said pointing to her computer. The video was coming rapidly to the end. The sounds of Miranda moaning in pleasure increased and filled the room.
“That will not be the only time I will hear the sounds of pleasure coming from your lips, Miranda.”
Miranda stood.
“The only way you’ll hear them is if you play the video. Consider it a memento of the best thing you never had. Oh, and good luck getting off on the misery you’ve caused my family. As for the objects, give me a complete list and an address, and I will have them shipped to you. If you want money to cover your expenses, I will give you that also, but don’t take advantage. There will be no windfall profits in this for you. Now our conversation has concluded. Goodbye, Mr. Adduné.”
Peter was on his feet – looming over her.
“You are such an ignorant, foolish girl. It will be such an immense enjoyment to see you lose everyone you love. Once it starts, the fire will engulf them all. Then the denouement – the coup d'état. It will be delightful to see your father turn on you and turn you into me. It will be my ultimate revenge.”
He strutted out the door, Miranda shutting it firmly behind him. She leaned against it, satisfied with her actions. She’d found out what she needed, and that was that Peter didn’t know about Stroker. Because he didn’t, he wasn’t aware that she knew her father was safely buried in England. He might be a good card player in that he knew how to bluff, but Miranda now knew exactly what hand he played – all thanks to Stroker.
CHAPTER 38
“Miranda, you’ve got to be kidding me?” Tiffany asked incredulously, spooning her chocolate gelato into her open mouth.
She and Miranda had taken in a movie. Tiffany thought a comedy would take her mind off things. The film had done its job and relieved her of morbid musings. She had enjoyed a fun-filled couple of hours. Now she sat with Tiffany discussing what had happened with Peter. Perhaps it had been a bad idea. Tiffany seemed upset, and not just with what Peter had said.
“No, I am not kidding.”
“Honestly, Miranda, I could just shake you silly for letting him in! What are you? A glutton for punishment?”
Miranda let her spoon fall against the white china plate. In the center of it was resting the champagne glass filled with the scrumptious raspberry treat. They were seated in one of their favorite Italian restaurants, guiltily devouring homemade gelato. It had its own unique flavor and was so much better than the American-style frozen treat. In Miranda’s opinion, it couldn’t be beat.
“I thought it was a good idea. And then he was goading me into it. Implying that I was afraid of him and …”
“And you couldn’t not pick up the Frisbee in your mouth and let him in? Seriously, first you have your heart ripped out by this dick, and then you think you’re going to prove something by setting yourself up for more abuse?”
Miranda picked up the spoon and took a small bite of her dessert. It was so delectable. Just sweet enough, but not cloying.
“When you put it like that …”
“How else are you supposed to put it? I swear we have to hang around together more often. Maybe some of my common sense will rub off on you because, chickie, you have lost your mind. And I say that to you with the utmost respect and love.”
Miranda took another mouthful – a bigger one. She felt no rancor or hostility toward her best friend for speaking the truth. It’s what good friends and family should do. It was the only way to set someone straight. Besides Tiffany was correct. In one sense, Miranda had been wrong in talking to him. Her head was now filled with Peter’s new lies – or game, as he phrased it. He’d wanted to torment her. She resented him for all of it, but most of all for what he said about Tiffany and her father. He didn’t need to bring them into this. Her father was dead and had more than paid for any past sins and Tiffany – Tiffany was an angel. She was blameless, and only a very loyal person who continued to only want the best for Miranda.
The problem is that there was no other way for Miranda to find out what Peter knew. She’d left that part out of her conversation with Tiffany. She didn’t want to get into the whole sordid story, but maybe she should. Maybe she should just get it all out in the open.
Tiffany’s spoon clanked when it reached the bottom of the large serving. She’d finished it and was craving more.
“Holy crap! Should I?”
Before Miranda could respond, she answered for herself. “No, I should not! First those croissants and now this? I’m going to look like a big, fat piggy. Tomorrow I hit the gym.”
“Oh, right! I think it would take about a year before anything would catch up with you.”
“Not so, chickie. So what are we going to do tomorrow? More shopping? A play?”
“A play? Hmmm, that sounds interesting. It’s been awhile since I’ve attended live theater and it might be nice. Let me see how I feel tomorrow.”
“Not a problem, chickie.”
“I’m going to make a quick trip to the ladies room if you don’t mind.”
Miranda ran the napkin along the outside corners of her mouth. Tiffany did the same and then took out a small mirror and a tube of lipstick. She applied a quick coating giving Miranda a quick wink.
“Like it?”
“Yes! It’s a fabulous color. What is it?”
“It’s a discontinued shade. I found out about this place that can duplicate any color you want. I had saved this old tube – for whatever reason. I tell you, this is the exact color! I am so happy because you know those cosmetic companies only wait until after we can’t live without something before getting rid of it.”
“Definitely true. They are a sadistic lot. Do you mind if I try it? I don’t usually look good in red, but ….”
“Sure, chickie!” Tiffany said handing the silver tube to her. “Just make sure you give it back!”
Miranda took it with her to the ladies room. She freshened up with a quick brush through her hair. She took out the lipstick and tried it on. The color was not bad on her. It was a little startling since she was used to a more natural shade on her lips, but it did seem to heighten her coloring. She’d ask Tiffany. One thing she could rely on from Tiffany was getting an honest answer. If it looked terrible, she’d let her know.
She left the ladies room and saw the waiter standing at the table. Miranda rushed back, but Tiffany waved her off. She set money on the tray.
“I got this one. Think my wallet can handle a couple of gelatos, and with what you went through today,” she said getting up and giving Miranda a kiss on her cheek, “you deserve a little treat.”
She gave Miranda a second look.
“Oooh, chickie! That looks good on you! Red becomes you!”
“Really? Then maybe I should start spicing up my life in other ways,” Miranda said as she started doing her version of an samba out to the curb. Tiffany gleefully joined in.
They stood giggling as Miranda hailed a cab. She turned to give her friend a quick hug.
“Love you, Tiffy. Really. Thanks for the moral support.”
“Love you more, chickie, and anytime you need some muscle,”
she said showing a flexed bicep, “you call on me!”
She winked and Miranda broke into more laughter. She got into the cab and watched her friend diminish in size through the back window. When she was almost out of sight, she saw Tiff blow her a kiss.
She checked her watch and saw it was a little after 11 PM. Part of Peter’s conversation came back to her. She’d give Reginald a quick call and tell him he was wasting his time offering money. If it had been anyone else, the ploy would have worked. The problem is that money wouldn’t deter psychopaths and that was clearly what Peter was. Maybe a loaded gun to his temple, but money? No.
She heard Reggie’s cell phone ring and ring. It went into voicemail. She left a quick message and hung up. She was approaching her neighborhood when the unanswered call began gnawing at her. There were completely legitimate reasons for him to not be answering his calls, but he usually did. Unless he was in court and then he changed his message to reflect that. She hit the speed dial for his main office number.
“Cheryl?”
“Yes, this is Cheryl.”
“Oh, hi, it’s Miranda. I tried calling Reginald, but I take it he’s busy?”
Cheryl sighed. There was a mournful tone to it that rattled Miranda.
“Cheryl?”
“I’m sorry. Mr. Charles is ill. He’s been taken to the hospital.”
The cab arrived in front of Miranda’s apartment building. She indicated for the driver to wait. The meter continued to tick off the seconds.
“Hospital? What is it? His heart?”
“They don’t know. His wife said something about anemia.”
Anemia. As in blood. Wasn’t that Jake’s original diagnosis? Through a fog Miranda heard herself speaking.
“Thank you, Cheryl. I’ll call Bonnie at home,” before she hung up.
The driver looked at her in the rear view mirror. Miranda held up her forefinger – indicating to him she needed a few more minutes. She called her mother. With every ring, she saw her life pass by her.
“Hello, Miranda,” her mother said.
“Oh, thank God you’re alright!”
“Why wouldn’t I be alright? Oh, are you talking about Reginald? That is a shame. I’m going over to see Bonnie right now. You know how kind she was right after your father’s accident.”
“Yes, I do. Has his status changed? I just spoke with Cheryl.”
“No, darling, he’s just been taken in so it’ll be awhile before they know anything.”
“Mother, please do let me know anything. Promise?”
“Of course. I’ll be with Bonnie all day so as soon as we find out anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“I love you, mommy.”
“I love you, too, Miranda.”
Miranda took a quick moment to lean against the backseat. She closed her eyes and said a prayer that her mother was okay. She closed her eyes and realized Peter had gotten to her more than she knew. Reginald was old. While he was in good health, he was far from being in excellent health. He was more than a few pounds overweight. Moreover, he didn’t watch what he ate as closely as he should. There was nothing unusual about him being taken to the hospital. Yes, it as a shock, but a shock is different than something supernatural occurring. She needed to pull it together.
She handed the driver a wad of bills. It was more than enough to cover the ride. Patrick, the night doorman opened the door for her. She ran past him and into her building throwing him a weak wave of her hand. She was tired and only wanted to get some sleep.
She changed and showered. She stood before the bathroom mirror, looking for her brush in her make-up case. She pulled out her brush and saw Tiffany’s small silver tube of lipstick. She smiled and held it up. She needed to call Tiffany and let her know that her secret klepto side had struck – successfully. She had stolen away Tiffany’s favorite shade.
She walked into the living room with the lipstick in one hand. Tiffany didn’t pick up. Miranda felt playful and decided to leave a cryptic message.
“I believe I have something of yours. If you ever want to see it again, put $20,000 in small unmarked bills in the nearest trash can. Make sure you aren’t followed.”
Miranda giggled and hung up. She walked out onto her balcony. Her cell phone went off in her hand. It was Tiffany.
“Tiffa ….”
Miranda was interrupted from finishing her best friend’s name by the voice of a woman. A woman with a deep throaty, polished voice speaking in guttural tones.
“And I have something of yours, Miranda. Too bad you’ll never see her again.”
Miranda froze. A cold chill overtook the warmth of the evening sending a shiver up Miranda’s spine. The soft summer breeze rippled through her freshly washed hair. She didn’t understand. Why was someone using Tiffany’s phone? And listening to her messages? Who was she? And why was she making a threat? Was it a threat? Did she mean she was there with Tiffany? But how? Why?
The line was still open. Miranda could hear background noises. Had the phone been set down? Had it been left connected so she could hear? It made no sense.
Miranda yelled into the phone.
“Tiffany? Tiffany is this a joke? Tiffany, answer me!”
The sound of fierce fighting broke out. Women’s raised voices going at a fever pitch drowned out the sound of a struggle. A bloodcurdling scream froze Miranda in her tracks. It was Tiffany. She was in trouble and there was nothing Miranda could do. Her heart sank as her adrenalin kicked in.
A fear surfaced in Miranda – a fear that told her she’d been wrong to dismiss things out of hand. Maybe what Reginald and Stroker had been trying to pound into her head was true. Maybe Peter was … but who was the woman that was aiding him? Stroker had warned her about Peter not acting alone. Well, she wouldn’t either.
She ran for the business card that listed the absurd occupation. She shakily dialed the number she thought she’d never call. He picked up on the first ring.
“Mademoiselle, finally a call. Are you in danger? Or are you only starting to believe?”
“Yes, on all counts. And it’s not me, it’s my friend Tiffany. The girl you met this morning. She’s in trouble,” Miranda blurted in a rush. Her body was shaking uncontrollably from fright and the sudden onslaught of coolness in the air. It felt like a blight – a frost that would freeze the crops and kill them where they slept was occurring. She looked out on the panorama. The tranquil picturesque view had turned into a landscape of terror. Tiffy! What would she do without Tiffany? She had to save her. There had to be time, but that scream told her it was too late.
“Is she with you?”
“No, she’s at her apartment,” Miranda sniffled, valiantly fighting back tears.
“I can be there in five minutes.”
“Should I call the police?” Miranda asked doubting her reasoning. Everything had taken on shades of a bizarre shadow world where nothing worked the way they should. Tiffany’s scream came back to her … reality was spinning out of control. She was trapped in one of her own nightmares. Her life had melted away and her bad dreams had come true.
“No! If you call the police, I cannot do what I need to. They will attempt to take Peter alive…”
“It’s not Peter. You were right about him having help. It’s a woman.”
“A woman? We are wasting time.”
“Then go! Just go! I’ll meet you there!”
She hung up and threw her phone on the couch. She ran into her bedroom finding dressing difficult because of the violent shaking of her hands. By fighting, she managed to throw on a pair of shorts and t-shirt. What difference did it make what she looked like? Her friend needed her. Miranda grabbed her purse and was at the door when she remembered her phone. She retrieved her phone and headed out the door praying that she was right in not calling the authorities.
The doorman hailed a cab. She hopped in the back giving the address to the driver. She showed the driver a hundred dollar bill and told him it was his if he ignored the stopl
ights. He took off in a blaze of smoke and burning rubber. Miranda prayed that Tiffany was alright. Her scream kept replaying in her head sending shivers up her spine and tears spilling down her cheeks.
Please dear God, let me get there in time.
Her heart was racing as she struggled to think things over. She had no clue who the woman was and how she’d entered her apartment, but it was good that it was a woman. Tiffany was strong, she could fight her off. That is, if she was just a woman. She choked back her fears, reassuring herself that vampires didn’t exist. But if they didn’t, why had she called Stroker? Why hadn’t she called the police?
Adduné (The Vampire's Game) Page 55