They hung around the museum just long enough to give Stroker the lay of the place. That included scoping out the security camera positionings. When done, they drove to the hotel suite Miranda had booked. It was only a few hours until the museum closed and they needed to be alone to collaborate on more details. The efforts needed to be timed and coordinated, even going over the unexpected. They had to be prepared, and prepared meant anticipating the unknown. That was what was the most difficult to cover and plan for – the unforeseen. It made devising an effective scheme impossible. For instance, who was helping Peter? It was possible that no one else was aiding him. It could also be possible that there were twelve other vampires acting as helpers – all of them hidden in Fairfield. The latter seemed likely to Miranda, but Stroker wasn’t agreeing with her assessment.
“But how can you be so sure there won’t be more?”
Stroker sat on the edge of the bed – jacket off and finishing off a heavy brunch. He was starving from the work put in last night. They chose Miranda’s bedroom to refuel and improvise strategies. The atmosphere was charged and tense. They were both under inordinate stress and pressure that most would have buckled under. Neither Stroker nor Miranda was willing to give in to human frailties. You couldn’t when dealing with creatures that were no longer hampered by these foibles.
“It doesn’t seem likely. They deliberately keep their numbers low, unless otherwise needed. It doesn’t seem they would be able to anticipate this turn of affairs.”
“But … there was a murder! Rather dreadful. I remember Jake talking about it at the opening!”
“A murder?”
“Oh, wait! Jake said the victim had been torn to bits. Doubt that whoever it was could be helping them.”
“Please understand, I’m not dismissing your point entirely. We should be on guard for all eventualities. We need to not relax and be vigilant. It’s just I believe that we have already eliminated who Peter was relying upon.”
“You mean Rachel?”
“Exactly, Mademoiselle. He couldn’t possibly have anticipated anything happening to Rachel as he was expecting only to face you. It’s why I insisted that we do this alone. I could have engaged one of the men that helped me last night, but resisted. They could not be relied on to handle meeting the undead. You have been tested by fire. Plus you have the added benefit of having strong motivation to keep you steady. Money is not enough to keep nerves from becoming frayed upon meeting such loathsome of creatures. Even the bravest crumble under such circumstances.”
“You’re right! About everything! I will try to keep my wits. No more dotty Miranda. I’ll stay wide awake because I know what we’re battling and how important it is that we succeed.”
“Good.”
“But what about my brother?”
“I know what you told me in the plane. I’m still not sure if he was actually bitten or it was part of the hallucination – especially since he may well have been intimately involved with that accursed Rachel. I’ll only know after I see the body. If he was bitten, well, you know what I have to do.”
“Yes, I know – unfortunately. It’s horrible what they did to him, but I will have my satisfaction. And my barrister … he’s taken ill. I don’t know Peter had anything to do with his illness, but if he did … ”
“It’s very possible he collapsed from mental strain. Vampires psychically rob you of your resources. I don’t think they got to him other than that way so I think he’ll be fine. Remember that Peter was in Europe before coming here. You arranged for his transport so he had access to Reginald – and to draining him of his energy. You also. It’s why you had that dream on the plane – because you’d been in contact.”
“I’d forgotten about that! And he did meet with Reginald. Funny, he thought it was a dream.”
“What? When did all this happen?”
“The dream? Before I left England. Reginald was the first to warn me about that name Adduné. You know, if you rearrange the letters it spells undead.
Stroker paused thinking. “You’re right, Mademoiselle. How did you ever figure that out?”
“I didn’t,” Miranda interrupted. “Tiffany did. And Tiffany tried to tell me to stay away from him, but I didn’t listen! There was something else though. Tiffany said she didn’t see him in a mirror – at that club. The thing is, that I did … see his reflection in the mirror. Why is that?”
“Because of their minds. As we are discussing, they can induce visions. Obviously, at the time, it was for that murderer’s benefit to have you believe he was human.”
“I see. I should have listened to her. She was so certain and … I was … Oh, Tiffany! How I miss her already?”
“I know, I know, but it is for her we are doing this.”
“Yes, for everyone. And I did feel his presence at Weatherly. It’s what was making me so jumpy. If I had only known! That stupid collection! I should have burned the place down and that blasted coffin with it! Damn Pinckus for going along with his plans.”
“I doubt it was much his doing as it was Peter preying on his mental faculties, inducing thoughts.”
“I think seducer would be more apt,” Miranda ruefully recalled. “Are you sure about the time? Will there be enough daylight?”
“Yes, two hours of light. I checked the time listed for sunset in the local paper.”
“But Peter said that they could be active during the day. And I know it’s true because he did visit me during the day.”
“As I told you before, they are not at full power.”
“Yes, that’s right. You did say that. I can well imagine why he didn’t tell me that bit! I’m sorry, I’m a little befuddled right now.”
“Well, you cannot be, Mademoiselle,” Stroker said putting down his knife and fork and wiping his mouth with the hotel napkin. “Do what you need to do to pull yourself together and stop trying to search for loopholes. I’ve thought of everything and I have years more experience in this than you.”
Miranda realized that he was correct. She was again trying to take control by shooting holes in the plan. She should just acquiesce and go along. He needed an ally and not an adversary. And the devil already had way too many advocates. The second guessing needed to stop. She would relinquish control to Stroker – the veteran that knew all about handling situations they were about to encounter. He was a shining star that she needed to follow. She needed to stop trying to lead.
“Now I suggest you take a nap. I will wake you. You need to be sharp and so do I.”
“But what about you?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said putting his emptied plate on the service cart. “Besides somebody needs to stay awake and be your eyes and ears. Now get some rest. I’ll be right outside going over my plans. They need to be precise. There is no margin for error.”
Stroker pushed the cart, directing it to his adjoining room. Miranda stood stretching and letting out a yawn. She threw back the comforter and crawled under the covers reciting what she had memorized by heart.
“Holy water, cross on the forehead, and then the stake through the heart,” she recited by rote. “You will still let me do it, won’t you?”
Stroker stopped at the bedroom door. His hand was on the doorknob.
“We shall see, Mademoiselle. We shall see,” he said as he slowly closed the door letting Miranda drift off into a sound slumber.
CHAPTER 42
Miranda’s dreams were a tumultuous swirl of bits and pieces of the horrors experienced during the past few months. Her father, Peter, Rachel, Tiffany, Reginald, Jake, and Chase all combined into a ghastly nightmare that she was grateful to escape.
Stroker delivered on the promise and gently shook her awake. It had taken awhile for her to come around, but when she did, she remembered why they’d come to Fairfield. She braced herself against the odds they were facing. She braced her nerves and headed for the shower to purify herself for battle.
When they both had readied, they went over the plan one more time
– checking timing and actions. Miranda had everything memorized. There could be no mistakes and so she reverted to her old self. The self that caused her father to put complete faith in her handling the business. She needed to call forth that stalwart side she’d inherited from him and follow this through. She couldn’t allow her fear to trap her into passivity. And she couldn’t just left things slide. Peter would come after her, and her mother. He would destroy what remained of her family and friends. She couldn’t bear thinking that she’d cause her mother’s demise through a reluctance to see things through. She was afraid, but she wouldn’t allow that to stop her. She’d use her fear to bring things to a swift and final conclusion.
Miranda drove – Stroker sitting reassuringly by her side. His bag was centered in his lap – his hand never straying from it. She trusted him. He was good at details – smart. If there was one person in the world that she could depend on to make sure things went her way, it was Stroker. He was a prince – a knight in shining armor that had been sent to help her slay the dragon consuming all with his fire.
She tried to concentrate on the road, but her thoughts were making it difficult. She was getting ahead of herself, and she needed to stop. She checked her appearance in the rearview mirror for it fitted in with the plan. Her hair was down, loosely falling to her shoulders. She’d styled it almost identically to the way Theresa wore hers. That meant blowing out most of the curl. Luckily, her coloring was remarkably similar so no coloring agent was needed to be used as camouflage. Miranda’s hair being down provided another advantage – it obscured her facial features.
They’d thought things through – even working out how to hide the 20 pound weight differential that existed between the two women. Miranda solved that problem by wearing two extra sweaters under her jacket. While they doubted anyone would pay close attention to the image on the security camera, they had to take all precautions. They were sure a close approximation of Theresa’s likeness would suffice and not raise alarms. After all, no one at Fairfield was expecting trouble. They didn’t know the museum was sheltering at least one vampire. They’d just think Theresa came to tidy up and work off some grief. While she wasn’t accustomed to coming in afterhours, grief drove people to act outside the norm.
Miranda slid in the purloined keycard. The door clicked open. She entered and ran up the stairs. She headed straight to Theresa’s desk and started leafing through papers on her desk. She opened the middle drawer and found the spare set of keys that Jake had entrusted her with. She knew that Rachel couldn’t have thought of everything. She’d been overconfident and sloppy. She was glad to know vampires weren’t as smart as they seemed to think they were – she found out last night that they made mistakes.
She shoved the keys into her pants pocket and pretended to look busy until precisely 7:30 PM. As soon as the digital clock hit that hour, she got up from Theresa’s desk. She took a quick tour around – checking both the men’s and ladies’ rooms. There was no one there. The museum was emptied of employees. Jake had mentioned several times that the museum frowned on paying overtime and that the employee’s enthusiastically went along with the adherence to regular hours.
She walked to the freight entrance. She opened it using Theresa’s card. Stroker was waiting, holding a large crate that hid his face. He walked behind her knowing what he had to do.
“Is there anyone here?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
“Good. We only need to get downstairs anyway.”
Stroker followed Miranda to the staircase. He wore a baseball cap low on his brow to cover his face. It wasn’t unusual for packages and shipments to be brought into the basement. It wouldn’t cause suspicion. When they reached the basement, they stopped at an errant sound.
“Shh!” Stroker admonished.
They stood still, listening for more noises that indicated they were not alone. There were none – just the stony silence of an occupied building. Stroker put down the crate and opened the lid. He took out his satchel. They were safe from the peering lenses of cameras from now on.
He said in a hushed tone, “Remember to be quiet. We need the element of surprise to aid us, Mademoiselle. We need to take advantage of everything we can.”
She nodded and swiftly crossed the floor. She easily located the other staircase that led down to Siberia.
The temperature dropped with every step they took. While the freezing cold told Miranda that Peter was here, it was more than that. There was that same ominous presence that she’d encountered at Weatherly. It had invaded Fairfield Museum and was causing gooseflesh to rise upon Miranda’s skin surface. Miranda’s adrenalin flooded her system with a nervous energy. The flight-or-fight syndrome was building, urging Miranda to abandon her plans. She swallowed hard fighting back the overwhelming fear that evil had struck in her soul. She rationalized that it was another self-defense that the unholy used to stave off encounters that could result in their destruction. She needed to keep in mind the endgame. The image of Peter Adduné’s dead body impaled before her filled her thoughts. It was more than enough to keep her going.
She reached the bottom of the stairs, her stomach churning and threatening to rid her of the meal she’d eaten earlier. She stood twitching, struggling against all the raw emotions swirling around inside her. It was working – her mind was becoming sharper and keener. Her sight was adjusting to the dark, her ears raising up as if operating on sonar. In the distance, there was the sound of dripping water. She heard it echo in the solitude of the tomb. It was only lingering condensation caused by the efficient cooling system.
She exhaled in plumes of thick vapor, the onset of the numbing cold taking hold. In spite of the brutality of the frigid air, she peeled off the extra layers of clothing. The bulk impaired movement. She couldn’t take the chance of anything slowing down her reflexes. A moment’s hesitation could mean fatal results. She heard the soft crush of Stroker’s bag strike the ground. He reached into it and withdrew the bottle of holy water and a small flashlight. He handed the small silver flask to Miranda.
Miranda stood with it in her hand – not moving.
“The cap!” he snapped.
“Sorry,” she whispered keeping her tone almost inaudible. She needed to get it together. She removed the cap, her hand twitching in anticipation and fear. Stroker had instructed her to unscrew it when he handed it to her. There wouldn’t be time if they were attacked. She’d made a mistake because of her nerves. She reminded herself of everything Peter had taken from her. Her hand steadied as if by magic. She needed to grow-up. She’d thought she had, but this would be the test as to whether she could consider herself an adult.
Stroker turned on a small metal flashlight. The beacon that would allow them safe passage through the unfamiliar hallways was alive and glowing. It shone dimly on the opposite wall and then ahead of them as Stroker moved his arm. Stroker had explained the absolute necessity of only shining a faint light. If the beam were too bright, it might alert them. She remembered his logic. It meant she was thinking. She gave herself points for that. Her rapid breath counterpointed Stroker’s smooth exchange of air, but there was something in the background. Perhaps a third breath that told them they were not alone. Miranda was struck by terror, but put it down to an overactive imagination brought on by extreme fear.
“Let’s go,” he whispered.
His voice prodded her from her fixed position. They began moving forward in the interminable gloom of Siberia. They were wearing rubber-soled shoes to allow them to move stealthily and silently. Their lives depended on it. The hallway was one straight corridor – the staircase was dividing it in the center. They needed to check both halves.
They turned to their left – Miranda walking slightly behind Stroker to make sure they weren’t attacked from behind. They continued until they reached the end of the hall. They’d start there. Stroker knelt down placing his bag on the ground. He took out the large cross that had been used on Rachel. He handed it to Miranda. She held it in
her left hand. He then tucked a hammer in his waistband and put a long, sharply pointed wooden stake under his left arm. He rose up slowly, placing his hand on the knob. The door swung open easily. He rushed in shining his flashlight on the piled-up dusty furniture used for outdoor banquets. They made a quick, careful search of the room establishing that furniture was all the room contained.
Their methodology established, they found the next door and the next. The rooms were eliminated as possibilities for Peter’s hiding place – but not too quickly. His coffin might be covered with items to obscure its presence. They wanted to be sure and not get sloppy. Being too hasty could mean a death sentence for both of them – or a fate even worse.
The tension in the air grew as did the terror. Miranda’s teeth were chattering. Her hands were shaking from the consistent pelting of icy cold and a consistent fright. There was no time to assess the obstacles before them, they needed to keep moving. The sun had set. They could be assured that the light had begun to dissipate. They were trying to beat the odds, both needing to prevail for very personal reasons. They would not be deterred.
Adduné (The Vampire's Game) Page 59