She should have. It was ridiculous that she hadn’t. She second guessed her very poor choice. She had wasted valuable time – time that could have been spent saving her friend. She needed to remedy her faulty decision. She pulled the phone out of the purse as she was shunted back and forth in the backseat like a shuttlecock. It was fine. The driver was only following her orders. She stared at her keypad when the phone rang. This time it wasn’t Tiffany’s number; it was Chase. She debated about letting the call go through to her voicemail, but decided against it. If it was nothing important and he’d only called to razz her about that video, she’d hang up. There were more pressing matters than whether or not the world saw her nude.
“Hello, Chase?”
“Mir-annnda?” he spoke lazily.
The tone of his voice and his slurred speech told her one thing – Chase was drunk. She’d made another mistake in picking up the call. She couldn’t afford to make any more. Tiffany’s life may depend on her making good decisions.
“Chase, are you drunk? Because I have no time for you getting blitzed and blithering over the phone! Tiffany’s in trouble and I need to call …”
“Trouble? We’re all in trouble, Miranda. Father’s alive.”
She’d heard him wrong. She must have. He couldn’t have said what she thought, but if he hadn’t, why was she shivering? Why was the chill in the air increasing to a cold so brutal that it could burn? Why was she reacting in fear? She shrunk, shaking like a leaf fighting off a winter storm. He was drunk. That was all. He was blind, stinkin’ drunk.
“Chase, I will wring your neck for calling me stinko drunk out of your mind!”
Chase began laughing. A lazy doomed laugh. The kind of laugh criminals laughed at the gallows just before they were hung.
“Drunk? I’m not drunk Miranda. I wouldn’t dare be drunk now when I need to make the most important decision of my life.”
“Which is?” she asked angrily as she was swept to the right side of the cab. Her shoulder hit the door. She grabbed a hold of the strap.
“Whether or not to jump.”
“What?” Miranda’s mind sharpened. She no longer wanted to end the call. Her brother was in trouble. She looked up through the windshield and saw the driver plow through another red light. He was clocking 80 mph, but pressed down on the accelerator.
She desperately tried to connect the dots of what Chase was saying. Where was he? What did he mean jump? Did he mean bail? Bail out from something he was doing?
“Chase, where are you?” she asked trying hard to calm herself. She was on the verge of losing it all. She couldn’t help him if she didn’t keep it together. And she couldn’t help Tiffany if she didn’t call the police, but her brother needed her.
“On the balcony, Miranda. Where do you think?”
“The bal-co …”
The dots connected in one big rush. Chase was going to jump off his balcony! He was about to kill himself! Miranda put herself into hyperdrive to halt the crisis. Whatever it was could be stopped. It could be made better, if only she handled it just right.
“Chase, go inside now! I insist! I can hop a plane and be there tonight! We can talk things over! It’ll only be a couple of hours.”
“No, I can’t wait. I don’t have time.”
“Yes, you do! Chase, listen to me! Whatever you’re thinking is wrong! Father is dead and..”
“Yes, dead, but alive. He came to me in a dream. At least I thought it was a dream. He bit me, Miranda. I laid down to take a nap and when I woke up, I found out it was true. My neck is punctured and bleeding. Father bit me and if I live, I’ll be like him. I can’t let him change me into one of those things. I can’t be a vampire, Miranda. I’m not even a decent human being. I’m changing. I can feel it!”
Miranda could see Tiffany’s building. They were so close. All she needed to do is help Chase. When she did, she’d run out and ..”
“Chase! Chase, you stop this! You’re doing nothing of the sort! Father is dead! He is not alive! It’s a trick – nothing but a trick! I can’t explain everything right now. Just don’t do anything until I get there. Okay?”
“No, not okay. Goodbye, little sister. I love you.”
Miranda heard the dial tone. Chase had hung up. It wasn’t possible. She stared blankly at the phone, the words of Stroker coming back to through the howling winter wind. He’d had been right. She was being attacked in the worst way possible – through family and friends. And it was happening all at once – just as he’d predicted. She hurriedly called 911. She needed to get someone to Chase’s apartment. She explained her predicament to the dispatch operator. She said that her brother had been drinking and was suicidal. She gave his location. The dispatch operator said she could forward the message and get a unit in Chicago out to his apartment. Miranda thanked her and left her contact number.
As soon as Miranda finished the call, she lurched forward as the driver applied the brakes too hard and too quickly. She didn’t care. He’d gotten her here in record time. She gave the driver the promised money he’d earned and ran to the door that was held open by Steven, the night doorman.
“Hello, Ms. Perry.”
“Steven, has anyone arrived for Tiffany?”
“No.”
How was that possible? Stroker might not have arrived, but a woman had to be up in Tiffany’s apartment. She thought about the joke she’d made to Peter. The one about him flying up … it was no longer funny.
“Well, a gentleman will be here. His name is Stroker. Please send him up.”
“Sure,” Steven said looking confused. “But why can’t …”
“Ms. Rodriguez is not feeling well. Please, just do as I ask.”
Miranda’s explanation and a twenty seemed to end his confusion.
“Sure thing,” he said tipping his cap. “I’ll send him right up.”
“Thank you.”
She ran in the elevator and used her key. She’d just check out the situation and then call for the police. She should have done it when she’d had them on the phone, but hadn’t. What was wrong with her? She bit her lip stopping the tears from overtaking her ability to function. She needed to get to Tiffany and that meant standing on her own two feet.
The elevator stopped – the doors sleekly sliding open. She took a deep breath and exited, walking into the darkened hallway. One light was out, broken with pieces on the floor. Her anxiety increased as she looked towards Tiffany’s door. She felt her heart sink to the bottom when she saw it was open. Tiffany never left her door open. Never. She gathered herself determined to go the distance and find out what was wrong. Tiffany needed her and she’d be goddamned if she would whimper out. She grabbed the strap on her purse and entered. There were no lights on inside. She felt for the switch. There was only a soft click. The apartment was still, bathed in moonlight.
“Tiffany? Tiffany, where are you? Tiffy, are you alright? Tiffany! Please answer me!” she cried out as she ventured deeper into the darkness. She had made a mistake. She should have called for the police downstairs. Or had Steven do it. She pushed her hand into her purse, frantically feeling for her phone. It was there – at the bottom. Her fingers strove to wrap around it ....
Someone grabbed her arm. She battled against the tight grip, but couldn’t shake loose from its captivity. The moonlight from the glass doors in the living room allowed her to see who it was. She looked up into Peter’s grinning face.
“I’m afraid Tiffany is no more, Miranda,” he said pretending pathos. It wasn’t convincing – the smugness of victory was shining brightly out of his luminous eyes.
“You are a vampire!” she yelled. His bloody incisors were on display and proudly presented through his lips pulled back in a growl.
“Well, talk about needing a brick wall to fall on one’s head!” he taunted as he roughly pulled her along to the back of Tiffany’s apartment. She tried to resist. Her purse slipped off her shoulder and fell to the ground.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To see Tiffany? Wasn’t that the point of this visit?”
They reached Tiffany’s bedroom door. With a withering blow, he pushed her inside. She hit against an armoire, her hands absorbing the brunt of the impact and preventing her from being hurt. Even so, the force jarred her. She pushed herself back, rubbing her arm where Peter had held her. She looked to the spot he’d been standing a second ago, only to discover him gone. She wondered where. The small reading lamp by Tiffany’s bed was snapped on. The light shone upward on Peter’s jubilant face. She couldn’t stand looking at him. The man once considered so beautiful was no more. There only remained something filthy and disgusting – something beneath contempt. He was akin to vermin and needed to be put out with the trash. She’d wasted enough time on thoughts of this renegade. She needed to find Tiffany. Her eyes urgently scoured the room, devouring the once posh digs with her eyes. Precious objects were smashed, vindictively ruined – broken splinters dotted the room. She didn’t see her trusted friend, only the evidence that she had put up a tremendous struggle.
“Tiff? Tiff! Where are you?” she said trying to keep her voice steady. She couldn’t stop the fear from creeping in and giving Peter the satisfaction of knowing he’d won. She still didn’t see her friend, but then, she hadn’t looked down. When she did, she was horrified at the spectacle of Tiffany’s beautifully manicured feet sticking out from the other side of her queen-sized bed. Miranda shot a glance at Peter who merely shrugged. She reluctantly made the trek rounding the corner – seeing a sight that no one should ever have to see.
She’d found her friend – lying in a pool of blood gathering where her head should be. She’d been decapitated. A few feet away – was her head. Tiffany’s dark mass of wavy hair streamed out from it fanning out onto the carpet. It looked as if it were doing a dance. Her eyes were open and blank. As if what had happened had frozen her in mid-thought. A black cat with ferocious looking teeth sat near it, hissing up at Miranda as if in possession of the token kill.
Miranda covered her mouth so she wouldn’t scream. Her body melted into a trembling, weak gelatinous pudding – her legs collapsed beneath her. Her hand sought the dresser to keep her upright. She didn’t want to fall, but she had no choice. As her lower limbs gave way – a pair of sure hands fitted themselves under her armpits – propping her up.
“I hate you,” she seethed at the man who had the audacity to put his murderous hands on her.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear.
“Not yet, but you will.”
He half-dragged her out the door and into the hall.
“Stop it! Where are we going!”
“We’re finishing the journey begun. Everything you love will fall – in a row. Like dominos that take time to set-up, but only needing a push to start them tumbling down. One will impact the other – each knocking into another until they’re all gone! It’s what careful planning will do, Miranda. I’ve thought of everything!”
“Bastard!” she said trying to scratch his face.
He laughed and grabbed her hand easily. He closed his hand over it and started to squeeze. It felt as if her bones were breaking. The pain increased until it was unbearable. She met his eye and did nothing to prevent it.
He grimaced deciding that if she didn’t fight, it wasn’t worth the effort. He pushed her towards the guest bedroom. Miranda could see a light was on from under the door. Peter twisted the handle and opened it. In the corner of the room was Rachel. Not the Rachel she used to know, but the vampire named Rachel. The Rachel with Tiffany’s blood dripping from her hideously, long incisors and down her voluptuous exposed chest.
Her long hair was a tangled mess. Her eyes gleamed crazily in the dim light. The black cat from the other room ran ahead of Miranda and jumped up into Rachel’s arms.
“Velvet! Aren’t we having a good time, baby?” she cooed as the cat cleaned her cleavage of the fresh, rich blood.
“You’re disgusting! You’re the one that Chase started seeing! That girl he was enamored with! And it was you on Tiffany’s phone! I can see it all now!” she shouted accusingly.
“Yes, I just flew in from Chicago and boy, are my arms tired,” she sneered derisively.
Peter stood to her right side and laughed as Rachel took a well-deserved bow. She let Velvet drop down to the floor.
“You’re both cowards! Nothing but cowards! If you wanted me, you should have killed me! Instead you go after people that had nothing to do with anything!”
Peter looked over at Rachel who appeared bored by Miranda’s outburst.
“Cowards? I believe the term that more closely describes us is victors. And that would make you the loser. You were warned after all. It’s all your own fault.”
“My fault? Any rational person would have been disbelieving of the nonsense you spewed. Oh, wait! Those were clues! Well, I followed the clues and you have me here! Now what?”
“I’m afraid you die. Game over.”
“That’s it? You could have done that weeks ago! Months! Oh, but you didn’t know months ago and that’s the problem. You couldn’t destroy the person you wanted, so you’re left with me to exact your childish revenge! Well, then go ahead you worthless monster! Kill me! Wait! I thought my father was going to kill me? Where is he?” she shouted, looking around in an exaggerated fashion. She was so happy to confront him – catch him in a big, fat, thunderous lie. “Oh, I forgot! My father is dead! Dead and not coming back! Not roaming about! Not a vampire! Not looking for me! Liar! Monster! Worthless fraud!”
Miranda opened her arms showing Peter her empty palms. She was defenseless. She was ready to die.
“Get it over with then! Go ahead and kill me! But I’ll die knowing the truth about you being a charlatan – a charlatan with a whore!”
Rachel glared as Peter stared, ready to strike.
“I have a better idea, let’s kill them instead!” came the authoritative, determined voice from behind them. It was Stroker.
Miranda noted the shock on Peter and Rachel’s faces. It was hysterical to see them bested – even better to see that they knew it. Stroker had outsmarted them. The man she first thought insane had done it. Accomplished what she could never have done on her own. And he’d had to waste time trying to convince her – she’d been an abject moron – but no more. She’d been right to call him. She moved away, her derisive laughter ringing out into the air, noting their stunned expression. It was her turn to rub their idiocy and ignorance in their horrid faces.
“You didn’t know about him, did you? All you had to do is follow the clues! I left them for you to follow, but you didn’t! Couldn’t even manage to figure them out and solve the puzzle? You fools!” she spat derisively, “You stupid, stupid fools! He’s been on my side all along, and you didn’t know! Not so smart now, are we?”
She ran towards Stroker who held up a silver container. He shook it in Rachel’s direction. The clear liquid hit its target splashing over her. She brought up her hands to cover her face, but to no avail. Smoke rose from her hideous flesh. She began to wail mournfully.
“Holy water?” Miranda whispered to Stroker.
He nodded.
Rachel was on the floor, writhing in pain. Peter brought up the end of his cape – covering his head for protection. He ran for the window. He turned before jumping – eyes blazing with fire.
“This is not the end, Miranda! Not by a long shot!”
He jumped out the open portal. His human body transformed before Miranda’s eyes into a bat. The bat hovered in place, hissing its displeasure. Stroker ran forward with the holy water. Before he could use it, the winged creature flew away into the night.
“Coward,” she screeched after him.
Stroker turned to Rachel who huddled on the floor, screaming in pain. She struggled to get up – making it to her knees and then onto her feet. He sprung into action, dropping the small piece of leather luggage he carried. He bent over it, extracting a large silver cross. Running – he rammed
into her. His force easily knocked her to the ground. Before she could move, he placed the cross on her forehead. It seemed to paralyze her and hold her in place. She tried to fight – moving her shoulders, but couldn’t. He ran back into his old leather bag retrieving two items – a long, wooden stake and iron hammer.
“Miranda, you’d better leave. Trust me – you don’t want to see this.”
Miranda was transfixed. She knew he was right, but she needed to ask questions first.
“Is she paralyzed?”
‘Yes,” Stroker replied.
“From the cross?”
“Yes, from the cross. It was blessed. If you can place it on them, they are immobilized and powerless, but if I take it off, believe me, she is gone!”
Miranda walked nearer to Rachel. She looked down into the face of the creature that killed her best friend and Jake. Peter had said he gave orders to an underling. It must have been Rachel. And she had been in that club. There was no Myrtha.
Adduné (The Vampire's Game) Page 56