The Truth about Vampires

by Theresa Meyers

  “So how’s the article coming on the vampire connection to the murders?” Hollander asked, leaning forward, his hands clasped together.

  Inside, Kristin sighed. That was the business.

  Always chasing the next story and only as good as your last byline. Fame was fleeting, but all the same she’d thrived for so long on always reaching and striving for the Pulitzer Prize that she wasn’t sure what to do with success now that it appeared within her grasp.

  “There’s been a new development this afternoon. I’m waiting for a source to contact me.” She thought about the red cell phone in her purse. Vane could hardly be called a source, more like a root cause, but Hollander didn’t need to know that. The less he knew, the safer he’d be from all the weirdness unleashing all over the city.

  “Good. Will you have it to me by tomorrow?” “I can try, it depends on what turns up.” “I need something hard-hitting for the Sunday edition.”

  Her mind flashed to the horrific images of the mob in the city that afternoon. “We could cover the execution of those vampires today downtown.”

  “Already have Peters on that.” “Well, one way or another, you’ll have an article. That I can guarantee.” If nothing else, she was going to expose the reivers and their plans for humans. That would be headline enough.

  The phone rang and Hollander grabbed it. Kristin took the opportunity to slip out of his office and head back to her cubicle.

  There was only one other person she wanted to talk to right now besides Dmitri, and that was her father. His familiar voice picked up on the second ring. “Maple Valley Herald.”

  “Hi, Dad, it’s me.”

  “Hi, Sunshine. I was wondering if I’d hear from you.”

  “I take it you saw the paper?”

  “Yeah. Quite a stir you’ve started. I’m proud of you, Sunshine, real proud. That’s one heck of a story.”

  A warm feeling swelled in Kristin’s chest. “Hollander sent it in for a Pulitzer.”

  “He should have.” A heavy pause stretched between them, punctuated by static. She could tell he wanted to say something else.

  “So, this vampire, was he just part of your investigation?” he asked, an uneasy edge to his voice.

  “Yes and no. I’m working on a follow-up story right now.”

  “But—” A tired sigh echoed in her ear. In her mind she could see him shaking his head. “Oh, never mind. What I really want to know is, are you okay?”

  “I’m better than okay, Dad.”

  A sense that he accepted what she was doing, even if he didn’t approve of it, relaxed the tension between them. “Good,” he said. “That’s all I need to know. One more thing, are you going to save me a seat when you win that Pulitzer?”

  Kristin smiled. “Of course, Dad. You know it.”

  “Stay safe, Sunshine.” “I will.”

  She’d barely hung up when Bradley Peters peeked over the cubicle wall and ruined everything.

  “Nice score, Reed. Pulitzer nomination, huh? Who’d you have to screw to get that story? Anyone I know?”

  Kristin scowled at him. “It’s called reporting. You should try it sometime.”

  He gave her a cocky grin. “Been too busy. Wanna see what I got this weekend?”

  She rolled her eyes, imagining him flashing some new Rolex or iPhone that Daddy had paid for. “Not reall—”

  Brad flashed her a full-on smile, complete with fangs. Holy crap! Kristin leaped out of her seat. “Please tell me those are dental enhancements.” His eyes flashed red in reply and all the air fled her lungs in one big whoosh.

  She crumpled back into her desk chair and it creaked in protest.

  Bradley came around the edge of their shared cubicle wall and crowded into what little space she had. His hands grasped onto the hard plastic arms of her chair, hemming her in, his eyes back to their familiar blue, but still feral. He was far more filled out than she remembered and had a far more menacing air about him. “Actually, I have a message for you. You’ve got a dinner date tonight.”

  “Not with you,” she muttered.

  Bradley chuckled, but there was something off about it. Something not entirely Brad. Something darker, more powerful and a hell of a lot more evil.

  “My God, Brad, what have you done?” The words slipped out, but she already knew. He’d gotten a conversion.

  “Traded in a life of mediocrity for one that rocks.”

  God, he was still an idiot. Seems converting into a vampire didn’t automatically endow one with common sense. “I noticed you’re still here.” She gestured to their abysmally small cubicles.

  He pulled back as if he’d read her thoughts. “Yeah, I’ll be taking care of that soon enough.”

  Kristin crossed her arms. “Then what do you need me for?”

  “You’re the down payment.”

  Down in the depths of her bag, the red phone began to play “Follow You Home,” by Nickelback. A chill swept through her like a blast of icy winter wind.

  “Go ahead. Answer it. It’s your date calling.” Bradley rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth in anticipation and ended up with two long thin red scratches from his new fangs.

  She briefly touched the spike for reassurance; it was still there. Then she dug out the phone and flipped it open.

  “Hi, Kristin. I was wondering when you’d get my invitation.”

  The rough quality of Vane’s voice rubbed her completely the wrong way. A shiver of distaste skittered over her skin. She swiveled in her chair, deliberately putting her back to Brad.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want a chance to be alone with you.”

  Like hell. “Well, you kind of blew that when you tried to blow me up in Dmitri’s car.”

  “Tsk, tsk. You aren’t going to hold that against me, now, are you?”

  She stood up, the chair shoving back on its casters. “Hell, yes, I am.”

  “Look, I’m trying to help you, but my boss wants you dead. You can see how that would put me in an awkward position.”

  Bastard. Kristin wanted to strangle him through the damn phone. But she knew that wouldn’t do any good. If Dmitri was right, only a sharply honed blade separating Vane’s head from his shoulders would do the trick, that or a bomb to shatter him into a million pieces. “You wanna help? How about you start by leaving me the hell alone.”

  He chuckled and it was all wrong. Dark and sinister. “The Bloodless Murders are happening because a particular Cascade Clan member has been pumping ichor into the local blood supply for profit. They’re making vampires out of people who are looking for a cure, not an entirely new lifestyle. I’ve been trying to stop them.”

  “Yeah, so you and your group can make takeout of the rest of us.”

  “That’s only their side of it. I’d like to be able to share ours as well. You’re still an objective journalist, aren’t you?”

  As much as she hated to admit it, Vane did have a point. She’d heard the party line from the Cascade Clan, but hadn’t really done anything about finding out what had initiated the reivers’ actions.

  “You want details, don’t you? The truth?”

  God, as much as she hated it, Vane’s offer tempted the journalist in her. She knew whatever he had to say would be a twisted version of the truth, but still there might be something he knew about what was happening within the clan that could help Dmitri stop the illicit ichor trading. “Sure. How about we start with why you killed Dr. Al Kashir and left her on my doorstep?”

  “I should think that would be obvious to a reporter like you. She was part of it. Just like Balor.”

  “So you killed her?”

  “She was a threat to mortals and vampires alike.”

  “That’s crap and you know it.”

  “No, what I know, dear Kristin, is the truth of what’s really going on in the dark underbelly of the Cascade Clan.”

  Kristin’s head spun so hard with thoughts it made her dizzy, and her knees started to buckle. What if
Dmitri knew? What if he was the one conducting the transactions? What if that was the big dark secret that seemed to be perpetually wedged between them?

  “Meet me where they found Balor’s body tonight at 10:00 p.m.”

  “No.”

  “Do you want the details or not?”

  “You may think being blonde and mortal makes me stupid. I’m not. Let’s meet somewhere neutral. What about Sangria?”

  “Sangria isn’t neutral. It’s crawling with Cascade Clan.”

  “Name another public place, then.”

  “Ivar’s on the waterfront—9:00 p.m.”

  Before she could answer, Bradley snatched the phone from her hand and had the audacity to wink at her. “She’ll be there.”

  Chapter 15

  A posh restaurant with starched white linen table napkins hadn’t been exactly what immediately jumped to mind when Kristin had planned to meet with the lead reiver. But at this point, anything extremely public would do.

  With vampires out of the coffin he could hardly put a move on her without others noticing. But she had to be careful she didn’t allow him to glamour her. It didn’t help matters that Bradley still had ahold of her arm, his fingers gripping so hard they practically popped through her skin, as he escorted her to a table where Vane sat waiting for them. Kristin kept thinking about that spike in her purse. The weight of it caused her straps to dig into her shoulder. Just knowing it was there made her feel more confident.

  “So glad you could join me.” Vane lifted a glass of red liquid in greeting and drank. Kristin shuddered with revulsion.

  “I’m guessing you aren’t ordering off the main menu.” She yanked her arm out of Bradley’s grasp, threw him a nasty glare and slid into the booth opposite Vane.

  Vane smiled, showing off his matched set of dagger-like teeth. “I only brought an appetizer. Bradley and I will be going out later to eat.”

  Kristin’s heart had lodged itself firmly in her throat, throbbing somewhere just below her tongue, making her nauseous.

  “In that case, how about we skip the run-around and get right to it. You said Dr. Al Kashir and Balor were both in on some ichor-trading scheme you’re working to stop. How does it work?”

  “Aren’t we eager?”

  She tipped her head and gave him a tight smile. “I’m on deadline.”

  Vane flicked his gaze to Bradley, who nodded. Something had just gone down that she wasn’t privy to. She wasn’t sure if the ichor had completely worn off, or if they were masking their mental communication from her with vampire voodoo. Either way, she couldn’t read their thoughts. “If you’re going to talk to each other, can you please let me in on the conversation?”

  Bradley fixed her with a gleaming smile, his fangs bared. God, for what she was certain his parents had paid in orthodontics, wouldn’t they be pissed if they knew?

  “Keep your shirt on, Reed. Wouldn’t want you flashing the customers. Those double Ds might draw too much attention.” The tip of his tongue rolled over the edge of one of his shiny new fangs like a guy polishing the chrome on an expensive new car.

  Kristin bristled. “Go on, errand boy. I’ve got important things to discuss with your boss.”

  Bradley instantly lost his smile and lunged toward her. In the time it took her to blink, Vane was on his feet, his hand pressed against Bradley’s chest, the look between them intense. Kristin grabbed on tight to her purse, her fingers brushing against the spike.

  Her skin contracted, feeling tight and uncomfortable. For the first time Kristin gained a new respect for the change in Bradley. He wasn’t just an egotistical spoiled rich kid in the newsroom anymore. He was a vampire. She sat a little straighter, refusing to acknowledge her fears in front of them.

  Bradley shot her a withering glare then turned on his heel and left her alone with Vane. He swept the tails of his long black leather duster aside before he sat back down.

  “The young ones don’t know how to control their impulses yet.”

  She swallowed past the thickness in her throat, going for brash to convince herself, if nothing else, that she would be okay. “So did you turn him from a mere asshole into a terminal one?”

  Vane’s face was smooth, unemotional, but his eyes remained eerily red. “I’m his maker, if that’s what you’re asking.” His finger circled the rim of his glass of blood as he stared at her. “I can see why Dmitri is so interested in you.”

  Kristin shifted uneasily in her seat. Hunger, blood hunger, pulsated in the air around Vane. He obviously was serious about going out for dinner and she wondered if that was the real reason she’d been brought to meet him. “I thought we were here to discuss the murders.”

  “Doesn’t it worry you that your boyfriend might find your talking with me to be a betrayal of his trust?”

  Inside her the truth burned, churning uncomfortably in her stomach like an extra-large blazing chili dog with onions and sauerkraut. She knew Dmitri wouldn’t tolerate her talking to Vane. But ferreting out the truth behind the Bloodless Murders was something that had to be done, especially if the people involved in it were hidden within the clan and operating behind Dmitri’s back. He’d need to know to protect the clan, and that would be reason enough.

  “So why aren’t you part of a clan like Dmitri?” she asked Vane. “You said the reivers have a reason for being involved in this.”

  “I chose a more ancient path.” He paused a beat, his eyes boring into hers. “Has Dmitri told you he and I are brothers?”

  At her quick intake of breath, Vane’s smile widened, the twin points of his fangs growing more prominent. “Ah, I see he hasn’t.”

  Confusion and doubt crowded into the back of her brain, little insistent voices that refused to be silenced. “But he was a priest.”

  “And I was an aristocrat. But the same vampiress, Larissa, created both of us at the same time, making us blood brothers.”

  Kristin wasn’t sure how to take the news. Part of her was pissed Dmitri had deliberately withheld that bit of information from her. It explained why Dmitri knew Vane so well, but it also called into question his motivations for keeping this information to himself. Just how much of what was happening between him and Vane was a personal vendetta and how much of it was really about the clan? More importantly, how much did he really know about the Bloodless Murders?

  “Doesn’t that make you wonder what other secrets he’s been hiding from you?” Vane asked.

  Of course it did, but she wasn’t about to tell him that, nor doubt Dmitri without a damn good reason. A spark of anger flared in her gut. “He’s been up front with everything I’ve asked.”

  “And what about the things you’ve neglected to uncover as yet?” He sat back, steepling his fingers. “But no. Of course not.” He chuckled, but the sound came out oddly mirthless and somewhat sinister. “You are merely a tool to further the clan council’s objectives.”

  His twisted game was beginning to annoy her. “Which is?”

  “They want to control the ichor trade in this region.”

  “I understand that conversions are happening to patients who only wanted help, not a vamp-my-lifestyle makeover.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not the real reason behind the Cascade Clan’s monopoly. You didn’t think that they gave those treatments at the clinic free, did you? No, my dear, the ichor trade has become a large cash cow for many clans. Just like mortals get money for donating their blood to the blood bank, vampires are reimbursed for donating their ichor. Those in the human medical field who know about it are clamoring for it.”

  “But why would vampires need the money? I mean, aren’t most of you wealthy just by virtue of being around long enough?”

  Vane took a sip of his blood, kicking back the glass and draining it in one gulp. His long tongue snaked out, licking a few thick drops from the rim. He set the glass down and shrugged. “Another myth perpetuated by fiction and film. Fortunes are made and lost every day. Not all vampires are wealthy, in the same way that
not all mortals have vast sources of wealth. The headlines only focus on the ones that do.”

  Kristin glanced at her watch. “Look, this has been real educational, but if you can’t give me something solid regarding Dr. Al Kashir and Balor’s connection to the Bloodless Murders, then I’m afraid our interview is finished.”

  Vane’s superior smirk faded. “Why don’t you ask him?” His gaze zeroed in over Kristin’s shoulder and she turned to look at the man who Bradley had escorted to their table.

  Kristin gasped, but quickly covered it.

  “So glad you could join us.” Vane scooted out of the booth and Mayor McCallum slid in. Vane snagged a chair and positioned it at the end of the booth so he could survey them both.

  “Miss Hartman, wasn’t it? We met at Sangria.” The mayor held out a hand, and Kristin shook it as briefly as possible.

  “I see we’re not the only one with secrets.” Vane glanced from the mayor to Kristin. “Mayor, may I reintroduce you to Kristin Reed, reporter for the Pacific News Tribune, the one who’s been doing such a wonderful job revealing the truth about vampires to the public.”

  The mayor’s eyes flashed red, then turned back to his normal hazel. “So you’re the reason my city is in an uproar.”

  The hairs on Kristin’s nape stuck straight up, an uneasy feeling swiping down her spine. Holy crap. The mayor was a vampire too. And obviously not one of the Cascade Clan. She was getting the distinct feeling of being outnumbered, and in hostile territory, to boot. So this is what war journalists felt like.

  She glanced at Vane and his eyes seemed to stare straight into her buzzing brain.

  “Yes, Mayor McCallum is one of us. You see, after a series of unfortunate health problems, the mayor was seeking out the kind of help only Dr. Al Kashir could provide,” Vane said. She could feel him savoring her surprise, drinking her confusion and fear like a rare vintage.

  “In exchange for his treatments and to cover his mounting medical debt, he set up an extension of the Cascade Clinic’s services to the local hospital where his surgeon, Dr. Chung, started using the ichor with excellent results. So excellent that Mr. Paulson, the hospital administrator, saw the ichor as a profitable, although hardly medically sanctioned, new revenue stream. Unfortunately some of the medical staff was too eager in their use of the ichor, and a few unintentional conversions did occur.”