“You got that right,” Matt said with feeling.
* * *
When they finally found the South Bar, after only making two wrong turns, they found the place deserted except for Elijah Pike and the bartender. It was a gorgeous, old-fashioned bar with heavy leather chairs, lots of dark wood, rough-hewn ceiling beams, and low lighting with soft jazz playing in the background.
Pike stood up and waved his arm at chairs he’d arranged around his table in the farthest corner from the bar. “Welcome, friends,” he said, smiling at all of them but letting his eyes linger on TJ a fraction longer than the others.
Shooter did his best to ignore the look Pike gave his girl and took a seat and looked around. “Where is everyone?” he asked. “If I were staying in a hotel with a bar like this one, this is where I’d be most of the time.”
“It is beautiful, isn’t it,” Pike said, glancing at the surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. “I asked the bartender the same thing, and he said it does get very busy after dinner, but in the afternoon most of the tourists are taking in the sights down in the city or spending their money in one of the twenty shops in the hotel.”
Pike held up a hand and the bartender appeared next to their table seconds later. After their drink orders had been taken, Pike leaned forward. “Let me tell you all what I know first, and then we’ll compare notes.”
He told them about being watched by the Mountie in the lobby, and reminded them about his talk with Ramson Holroyd where the Houstonian had said there was a civil war coming among the vampyres and he didn’t know which side he would be on. He also told them he’d contacted Professor Wingate and they would be hearing from him shortly about some exciting new research from the old Soviet Union that might make their vaccine more effective.
“Have you heard from or had any more contact with anyone aligned with Morpheus?” he asked when he’d finished, directing his question at TJ.
She wagged her head. “Not since the guy in Idaho, and we’ve watched for anyone suspicious.”
“Good,” he said, handing TJ written directions to his cabin. “I think we are a little ahead of Morpheus, so you should be able to enjoy your stay here tonight, but as soon as you’re up in the morning, you should probably head for my cabin, making sure you’re not followed, of course. Is your vehicle a four-wheel drive?”
TJ nodded. “Yes, it’s a Jeep.”
“Excellent. The cabin is pretty remote and with the recent snows, it’ll be tough going, even for a Jeep. I rented it over a year ago under a completely different name, so it should be safe for as long as you care to stay there.”
Shooter was getting more and more irritated at the way Pike was talking to TJ, acting as if the others didn’t exist. “What about this Mountie?” he asked. “Any idea of why he was following you?”
“Not really, except that I met a couple on the train on the way here. The husband is a Mountie, and there was something strange about both of them, but I’m not sure why he’d want to have me followed.”
“Do you think he is . . . one of us?” Sam asked, causing Matt to give her an odd look, a shiver going down his spine at the way she included Pike in with her and TJ, but not he and Shooter. He didn’t like being left out of any part of Sam’s life.
Pike shook his head, “I don’t know. I didn’t think so, at least not at first. There was no smell of blood on them so they hadn’t fed for a while, but I couldn’t read them and that is unusual for Normals, so that bothers me.”
“If they are vampyres,” TJ asked in a low voice, “do you think they’re aligned with Morpheus and his crew?”
Again Pike wagged his head. “I don’t see how they could be. No one except the four of you knew where I was, and even you didn’t know until after I was on the train and had met the couple. If they are of our race, it might just be a coincidence that we met on the train.”
“Well, one thing’s for certain,” Matt said, “it was no coincidence that he had you followed. Something must have aroused his suspicions of you to cause him to do that.”
“I know,” Pike said, puzzlement on his face, “but I just can’t figure out what it was.” He hesitated. “That’s why I’m going over to his house to have dinner with him and his wife tonight.”
“What?” TJ exclaimed, her obvious concern causing another stab of jealousy in Shooter, who took a deep drink of gin to try and wash the irritation away.
Pike gave a wry smile and shrugged. “They invited me while we were on the train, so I called today, acting as if nothing were amiss, and arranged to eat with them tonight. I’ll find out what’s going on one way or another.”
“But, what if this is some sort of elaborate trap and they manage to take you out?” Shooter asked, thinking to himself that he wouldn’t be too disappointed if that happened.
“Then, I won’t be at the cabin when you arrive tomorrow, but they still won’t know where it is, so you’ll be safe. If I don’t show up for some reason, my advice is for you to winter at the cabin, staying well away from town, and in the spring you should head up into the Northwest Territories. There is a very remote town up there called Yellow Knife where you can stay until all this blows over.”
“What makes you think it will blow over?” Matt asked, a trace of anger in his voice that this creature was giving them orders about how to live their lives for the next year, as if they didn’t have lives of their own to go back to.
“Once they’ve gotten rid of me, they’ll think the vaccine will no longer be available, and that will make the rest of them go on about their business. Your only worry will be Morpheus, and there is only so much one man alone can do to harm you.”
Sam held up her drink, noticing that both Matt and Shooter were getting angrier by the minute. “Hey, enough of this defeatist talk! Elijah will come out of his dinner okay, we’ll meet at his cabin, and all will be well. Let’s drink to it!”
They all smiled at Sam’s continually upbeat attitude and held up their glasses in a toast, though none of them were as sure of their success as Sam seemed to be.
When they’d all downed their drinks, Pike stood up. “I’ve got to go now, but I’ve left something for you.” He indicated a large duffle bag on the floor next to his chair, the kind with wheels on one end and a handle on the other. He leaned over the table and spoke in a lower voice. “The bag contains two shotguns and two long swords. If by some quirk you’re attacked before reaching my cabin, I’d suggest the men use the shotguns to slow the attackers down and the women use the swords to finish them off.”
“Are those legal here?” Shooter asked, eyeing the bag suspiciously, rather pissed that Pike was leaving them alone to deal with a possible attack while he traipsed off to have dinner.
“Probably not,” Pike said with a grin, “so be careful who you show them to.”
He straightened up, giving TJ a long last look. “Enjoy yourselves tonight, and adios, as they say in Texas—go with God.” He walked out of the room without looking back.
“Enjoy ourselves?” Shooter asked, disgust in his voice. “Who is he kidding?”
TJ leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, her hand moving under the table to caress his thigh. “Why, big boy, don’t you think you are going to enjoy yourself tonight?” she asked in a seductive voice.
Shooter finally grinned and looked around. “Oh, yeah, probably. After all, it is a beautiful hotel.”
TJ playfully punched him in the arm. “That’s not what I meant, you butt-lick.”
Thirty-six
My heart was heavy as I drove the Tahoe toward the Slonakers’ house. I hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to see TJ again, especially when she had the smell of fresh sex still on her body from another man. Thinking of her making love with another caused a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and I had to force my fingers to loosen on the steering wheel lest they break it in two. At least, the man she’d chosen over me seemed to be making her happy and that was something I was thankful for—I think
.
I forced all thoughts of her from my mind as best I could. If the Slonakers were not what they seemed, if they were indeed vampyres, then I was going to need all of my wits about me to conceal my true identity from them until I found out which side of the upcoming civil war they were on. In my room before leaving, I’d taken a couple of extra hits on my canned blood, just in case the confrontation tonight became physical, but I had no idea if the weaker blood would be enough if I had to face two of my own kind who’d been feeding on the stronger, fresh variety.
As the road got worse and the snow deeper, I had to switch the Tahoe into four-wheel drive to make the last few hundred yards up the Slonaker’s drive. Their cabin is almost as remote as mine is, I thought, wondering if it was because they needed privacy for the same reasons I did.
Kim Slonaker answered the door when I knocked, and I noticed she looked much healthier than the last time I’d seen her. Her complexion was rosy and her eyes sparkled more vibrantly, though there was a certain strain in her expression, as if she were not at ease with my being here. I also caught a faint whiff of blood on her breath, making me think I might be right in my assessment of their true identities.
“Hello, Kim,” I said. “I see you’re looking well. I guess you were right, getting home was the best medicine for you.”
“Hi, Yank,” she said, though the strange look in her eyes belied the lightness of her greeting.
She turned and led me into their home. Sitting in their living room on a long, leather couch next to Ed was a man I hadn’t met.
Ed got to his feet and waved me over. “Hey, Elijah, I want you to meet my best friend and coworker, John Ashby.”
Ashby’s friendly grin didn’t extend to his eyes as he stuck out his hand. I sensed a certain wariness about him, almost as if he were afraid of me for some reason.
When I shook hands with him, I felt a familiar tickle at the back of my mind, as if someone were trying to read me. Of course, I was tightly locked down so I couldn’t be sure if it was Ed or the new guy—or even Kim.
Kim stepped up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Elijah, would you like a drink before dinner?” she asked, cutting her eyes to a sideboard on which were several bottles of liquor and some soft drink mixers.
“Sure,” I answered, following her over to the bar.
“Whiskey and soda, right?” she asked, looking up into my eyes. Her back was to the others where they couldn’t see her face, and I had the distinct impression she was trying to tell me something—something she didn’t want the others to hear.
As I nodded, I again felt the tickle at the back of my mind and so I opened it just a bit.
Yank, she thought at me, if you’re one of us, be very careful and keep your block up. John is no friend of yours!
It was everything I could do to keep my expression bland and not to react to what she’d thought at me. It confirmed my suspicions about her and Ed, and now there was another player in the game, a wild card I couldn’t think about just yet.
I gave her a slight nod, to show I’d gotten her message and I could see the relief in her eyes, along with something else I couldn’t decipher.
After dinner, she continued as she mixed my drink without looking at me, wait down the road until John leaves and then return. We need to talk.
“There you go,” she said aloud, smiling and handing me my whiskey.
“Thanks, Kim,” I said, clamping my mind down tight again and moving over to sit in the living room with Ed and John, who both already had drinks in their hands.
The remainder of the evening was uneventful, except that John seemed unusually inquisitive about my background and asked a lot of questions that I had no trouble deflecting with answers I’d prepared before coming to Canada. As far as I could tell, he accepted my cover story of working for the Canadian Department of the Interior without undue suspicion, but since my mind was closed down tight, I couldn’t read him any better than he could read me.
After an excellent dinner of moose stew that rivaled any I’d had as a child in Maine, I bid them all good night and drove down the path toward the road to Banff.
When I got to the main road, instead of turning toward Banff, I turned left and drove a couple of hundred yards away and turned the Tahoe around, parking it just off the side of the road where I could keep a watch until John Ashby left.
Almost an hour passed, and the cold had begun to seep into my bones and I was about to give up and leave when I saw a pair of headlights leave the Slonakers’ road and head away from me toward Banff.
I gave it another ten minutes and started the Tahoe and returned to the Slonakers’ cabin, not really knowing what to expect. I had no weapons with me, so if Ed and Kim were laying a trap, it would be only my strength against the two of them. I hoped it would be enough.
Ed answered the door at my knock and handed me a drink he had ready and waiting.
Kim was sitting on the couch, and there was tension in the air again, as if they’d been arguing.
I sat across from Kim and Ed sat next to her on the couch, all of us acting very civilized with our drinks, as if we were old friends enjoying a quiet evening of conversation instead of members of a race about to go to war with each other.
Finally, Ed’s expression lightened and he gave a short laugh. “Well, Elijah, you had me fooled, and I can tell you that doesn’t happen very often.”
I raised my drink to him and smiled. “You and Kim were pretty good too, Ed,” I said. “I had some suspicions, but nothing I could put my finger on.”
“Kim likes you, yank,” Ed said, glancing at his wife. “And that goes a long way with me. I guess you know you’ve put me between a very large rock and a very hard place by coming here.”
I leaned back, crossed my legs, and kept my face neutral. “In what way, Ed?” I asked. “How does my being here concern you, as long as I don’t cause any trouble or bring any attention to our existence?”
He downed his drink in one long swallow and got up to fix himself another one. As he poured it, he looked around at me. “I think you know very well how it concerns us,” he said. “My friend John is on the council at Calgary, and he received a request from a man named Michael Morpheus to check out any strangers that had come up here to Banff in the last few days.”
“Oh?” I said, nonchalantly, though my gut was burning with anxiety. That explained the man in the hotel lobby, though why they would have sent a Normal to watch one of us I couldn’t figure out.
Ed returned to take his seat next to Kim, who put her hand on his thigh, as if to keep him calm.
“Yes. It seems there is a civil war brewing among our people, Elijah, and you’re right at the center of it—you and the vaccine you’re supposed to be working on.”
“Ah, the vaccine,” I said.
Kim’s eyes brightened and she leaned forward, her face a mask of anticipation. “Is there such a vaccine, Elijah? One that will turn us back into Normals?”
So that was it, I thought. I could see in her eyes Kim was desperate to give up this life, a feeling I sympathized with since I’d had the same desire practically my entire life as a vampyre. I shook my head slowly, a sad expression on my face. I was going to have to disappoint her. “No, Kim, that is not what the vaccine does.”
Her face fell and she flopped back on the couch, tears in her eyes. “Oh,” she moaned, as Ed put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight against him.
“I told you not to get your hopes up, sweetheart,” he said, turning his angry eyes on me as he spoke.
I held up a hand. “Wait a minute,” I said. “I’m afraid you misunderstood me, Kim. The vaccine won’t turn us back into Normals again, but it will let us lead relatively normal lives, without the need to kill others to survive.”
“What . . . what do you mean?” Kim asked, her face hopeful once again.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “A lot of the effectiveness of the vaccine that we have now depends on how long since your i
nitial transformation. The longer it has been, the less effective the treatments are.”
I could the light of hope brighten Kim’s eyes as she stared at me like a cancer patient hearing about a cure.
“How long have you and Ed been in the life?” I asked.
Kim glanced at Ed, thinking for a moment. “I was converted a little more than twenty-five years ago, and Ed about eighteen and a half,” she finally said.
I smiled. “That explains something that I was wondering about, and one of the things that kept me from realizing you were of the Vampyri race.”
“Oh,” Ed said, “What’s that?”
“Your names,” I answered. “Most of the Vampyri, after a hundred years or so, have to take on new identities to explain their apparent youthfulness. Almost all of them, either out of pride or vanity or just out of a rather morbid sense of humor, take exotic names from the vampire literature or from mythological creatures. “Morpheus, for example, chose the name of the god of sleep, while others I’ve met have taken names meaning death, or horror, or have used the names of characters in old vampire novels.” I shrugged. “It’s not always the case, but it holds true enough that whenever I hear an odd name or one with those connotations, I’m put on my guard that I might be dealing with one of us.”
“That’s why John has been reading those old novels,” Kim said, glancing at Ed. “He’s about fifteen years farther along than I am so he must be looking for a new name that will fit in with what you’re saying.”
Ed got a disgusted look on his face. “Those idiots on the council over at Calgary must have given him the idea,” he groused. “From what he says, they’re all older than dirt.”
“Listen,” I said, getting back to the original subject, “the vaccine is no miracle cure, but it does eradicate the Hunger and lets us live without having to feed off others. It doesn’t change what we are or turn us back into Normals. Nothing can do that . . . yet. But, if you take the treatments we’ve devised, the Hunger is muted enough that you can live without feeling the need for fresh blood. Especially since neither of you have been converted for very long, relatively speaking.”
Immortal Blood Page 23