Sins of the Blood: A Vampire Novel

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  "What does your counselor say?"

  "She says it's enough to know he's alive out there somewhere. But how do I know that? How do I know that the Sadlers weren't vampires in waiting?"

  "Because the Center did a thorough check. They always do. They also send children to areas that aren't as infested."

  "In 1974, the area wasn't infested," Cammie said. "But what about now?"

  "You don't know where he is now."

  "That's the problem," she said. "He could be in all kinds of danger."

  "Cammie, he's a grown man now. He's capable of taking care of himself. You're still stuck back there, trying to take care of him. You have to let him go."

  She took a bite of the chicken and made a face. She paused, and pulled a pepper from her mouth. "If I let him go, what do I have left, Brett?"

  He reached out a hand, wishing she would take it. "You have yourself, Cammie. You need to take care of yourself."

  "Finding Ben is taking care of myself." She looked up. "Don't you see? If I know he's all right, I can sleep again."

  Eliason rubbed his eyes. The literature didn't have much on this kind of obsession. He sighed. "Cammie, what if he turned on his own?"

  "He wouldn't!" She pushed the plate away. "Any more than I have."

  He stared at her. Her eyes were too bright, and her cheeks were flushed. He had made sure she read the literature on Adult Children after she recovered her memory. She knew that she still hadn't reached her danger point. "You can't know that," he said, unwilling to argue farther. "You haven't seen him since he was a little boy. He is a very different person from the one you remember. He's an adult."

  "I know," she said. She picked up her teacup, [C&F78] drained it, and filled it again from the metal teapot. "But he's my family. My only—" she half-chuckled without humor "—blood relation. Maybe if I can salvage that, maybe if I can have a real relationship with him, then the nightmares will go away."

  "You can't look outside yourself, Cammie," Eliason said. "You're gambling too much on Ben." He stopped himself before he could say anymore. If she were[C&F79] going to look outside herself, he wanted her to look to him.

  "Maybe," she said. "But I am going to do this thing."

  He took a deep breath and leaned back. She was putting him on notice that he couldn't change her mind. Maybe she was right. Maybe she needed information. There were ways to do it without jeopardizing her own safety. He took a bite of the pepper steak. It was good. "So hire a private detective."

  "I did."

  Eliason looked up. He didn't know she had that kind of money.

  She caught his surprised glance. "Anita had the money in trust for me. My father's ill-gotten gains. She kept it, untouched, until I was able to remember and then make an educated choice. Seems most of us refuse the money. I'll use it. I'll use it to find Ben."

  Eliason had heard of these trusts, another service that the Center provided. Much of the money went to support the child's care at the Center. Whatever was left over became part of the scholarship the Center would award at the end of high school. In some cases, a very few, there was money remaining. It went into a trust that the Center gave to the adult child upon recovery of memory. Sarge complained about the trusts, saying the money should legally go to the children when they turned 18. Anita insisted on waiting until the children could make the informed choice. Some "children" never got the money at all. If there was excess money for Cammie, what had happened to the money for her brother?

  Eliason hated thinking about the trusts. It was another aspect of the Center's policies that he found a touch too shady for his own tastes. Anita ran the place like a dictator and had since the collapse in the early ’70s[C&F80] . Because she got results, no one questioned her. No one wanted to see the Center's work end.

  If Anita used the trust money to benefit the Center, someone would have stopped her. But the trust funds sat in a separate bank, gaining interest for the children, but never giving money to the Center itself. Anita's plan did work though. Most of the adult children gave their money right back to the Center if they decided to do anything at all.

  He finished the pepper steak[C&F81] and started into the chicken. Very spicy. Just the way he liked it. "What did the detective say?"

  Cammie started eating again. "His report made Ben sound like a saint. Straight A student, good athlete, never in trouble. He graduated with honors from University of Oregon in pre-law, of all things."

  "Sounds like you have the answers you need." Eliason grabbed the pepper steak[C&F82] platter and refilled his own plate.

  Cammie shook her head. "He's disappeared."

  Eliason set his fork down. He needed to pay more attention to this conversation. "How does your detective know that?"

  "That's all everyone talks about. He had a date one night with a girl and she comes home in tears, and he leaves town. No one has seen him since. The detective spent two weeks trying to find Ben. He couldn't. Ben just dropped from sight."

  Eliason's hands started shaking. She had to recognize the pattern. This was how it started. But she was a survivor who had just recovered memory. It would take years for her to work through all the denial she had lived with.

  He rubbed his hands on his jeans, then took a sip from the Diet Coke. It was lukewarm. He would help however he could, but he wouldn't tell her what he thought. Telling her wouldn't break through the denial. She had to break it herself. "Why was the girl crying?" he asked.

  "She never said. Her mother thinks he raped her, but the girl won't press charges. Besides, everyone says it's not in Ben's profile to rape a woman."

  Perhaps not. But it was in Ben's background. "Who is this 'everyone' that you keep quoting?"

  "Family. Friends. I'll show you the report if you want."

  This was a mess, and Cammie would get nothing more than hurt from it all. He had led her to her memories. Now he wished he hadn't. "Cammie," he said, leaning forward. "Ben is an adult. Adults have the right to leave a community without warning. You never know what people are thinking."

  "Maybe something's happened to him. Maybe he's hurt, or dying or—"

  "Or maybe he waited until he was twenty-three to run away from home."

  "Maybe," she said. "But people don't understand that."

  He gripped the edge of the table to brace himself. He was probably wrong saying this, but he couldn't keep silent. She was purposely walking into a death trap, because she had been raised that way. And she wasn't seeing it. "Cammie," he said slowly. "The girl's mother thinks the girl was assaulted. Ben is at the peak of his sexual prime. Sweetie, he could have turned. They don't have the experience in the West to understand some facets of vampirism."

  "His parents do," Cammie said. "They would know. They don't believe he's a vampire."

  "They might be in denial," Eliason said. Like you are.

  Cammie frowned. "He's not. I know he's not. He saw what my father did. He would know how awful that is. He wouldn't do that to anyone." She leaned forward. "I need your help, Brett. I'm going to go find him, and I need someone back here whom I can trust. Someone who will dig through records for me. Someone who will go head to head with Anita if necessary."

  God, she was going to go through with this no matter what. He pushed his plate aside. He had to stop her. Any way he could. The anger he had felt with Mary Jo rose again. He clenched his fists beneath the table. Think. He had to think. He had to find a way to get through to her. "Cammie, you're going to go to a community you've never been to, disrupt people's lives, bring them a part of the past they're not supposed to see, and for what?"

  Cammie grabbed the teapot and poured herself a cup. She took a very loud sip before answering him. "You said it yourself. I need to do things for me."

  "Like visiting Janie?"

  Cammie nearly spat out her tea. Her face got red, and she choked before she swallowed. Eliason almost reached over to pat her on the back, when she opened her mouth and took in air. "That's not fair," she said. "It's not the same
thing."

  "It is the same thing. You bulldozing into a place without consideration for the people who already live there."

  "I didn't ask you to judge me. I asked you to help me."

  Eliason put his hands on his knees. "I have helped you. From the start. But there are some things that I will not do. You're wrong, Cammie. You're going out there on a mission that will destroy everyone, including yourself. You're reenacting your past again, only this time, you get to play the daddy."

  She stood up so quickly she almost knocked the table over. Water splashed out of his glass and onto his lap. The other patrons looked over, and the owner watched from the kitchen door. Still, when Cammie spoke, her voice was low. "Of all the awful, hurtful things you could say, that was the worst. I wasn't going to tell anyone about Ben's past. I wasn't going to get involved in their lives. I was just going to do some work. For me. I'm not reenacting anything." She pulled a twenty from her purse and slammed it on the table. "I guess I was wrong. I thought you were my friend. But all you're interested in is sex, just like every other man in the world. Well, this was not a date, Brett. You can't sleep with me. I asked you for help and you're not willing to give it."

  As she went by the table, he caught her wrist. "Friends tell friends things that no one wants to say. I care about you, Cammie. I probably even love you, if the truth be told. You're going to get hurt, and I want no part of that. I want to protect you from hurt. Cammie, stay here. Work with your counselors. Face this stuff and put it behind you—"

  "What the hell do you think I'm going to do?" she said. She yanked her arm from his grasp. "And I'm going to do it without you."

  She stomped out of the restaurant, leaving him there. He wiped the water off his jeans. His food had congealed on his plate. Still, he couldn't get up, couldn't follow her. It wouldn't be right. He had the training. He understood the tough love theory. He knew what to do.

  It was what Sarge had told him when Ryan refused to listen to Eliason about eating disorders. Sometimes, she had said, people have to hit bottom before they can change.

  The problem was, he didn't want to see Cammie hit bottom. She was the daughter of a vampire. Approaching thirty. A woman's sexual prime. If she was hereditary, some latent tendencies might appear. Bottom for a vampire's child was blood-lust.

  And once they gave in to that, there was never any turning back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Candyce took a bite of the deep fried cod and the fresh homemade tarter sauce. If she couldn't drink Steelhead's excellent micro-brewed beer, she could at least treat herself to their wonderful food.

  The bar was just beginning to fill up with the after work crowd. She had arrived early enough to get a table with one of the large overstuffed chairs. She had ordered a homebrewed root beer with her fish and chips and was nursing that like the best stout money could buy.

  She also had to hold the table until Ben got there.

  The thought of him made her queasy. She had agreed to meet him in a public place because she never wanted to be alone with him again. Her mother was convinced he had raped her, but he hadn't. Candyce had been willing. She had consented. She had wanted him until the moment he bit her when he entered her.

  She had to choke down the fish. Better to clear that memory from her head. She took a sip of the root beer and leaned back.

  Behind her, a table of emergency service personnel laughed over a pitcher of beer. She recognized one of them,[C&F83] the man who always acted as the spokesman for the evening news. Two young businessmen huddled over another table, and to her right, four men wearing Star Trek T-shirts kidded the waiter about avoiding their memorabilia shop in the Oakway shopping center.

  Everyone's life seemed to be going well but hers.

  The pub's door opened and she sat up as she had each time it had opened in the last half hour. She tugged her favorite black turtleneck over her jeans—her dumpy look, so that she would appeal to no one—even though her mother once said it set off her leggy figure and blonde hair to advantage. So far, not a soul had noticed her, although she scanned the face of each person who entered the door. This time, she froze.

  Ben stood there. His suit had the shine of silk. His topcoat was unbuttoned, and he had wrapped a scarf carelessly around his neck. She had never seen him so dressed up. He was still the most handsome man she had ever seen, with his dark hair curling about his collar and his black eyes snapping with intelligence.

  Other women watched as he searched the room. A redhead near the door smoothed her hair back. A slender,[C&F84] dark-haired woman reached out to him, but he didn't seem to notice. Conversations slowed until Candyce could hear the basketball announcer from the overhead television set.

  She didn't wave. She waited until Ben saw her. He crossed the floor in three long strides and pulled back the chair across from her. He was not smiling as he sat down. "Steve said this was important."

  Somewhere, in the last few months, he had gained confidence. His voice had a mellifluous flow it had never had before. He looked older. Lines had formed in the corners of his eyes, giving him a rakish appearance. A flush rose in her cheeks. Even now, he attracted her. Despite the fear she had felt that night.

  The waiter stopped at the table—a big, sensitive man who had hovered over Candyce earlier as if he had known something was wrong. "Get you anything?" The waiter's tone was curt. He was not going to be as nice to Ben.

  "Red wine," Ben said without looking up.

  The waiter met Candyce's gaze. He frowned just a little, as if to ask if it were okay that Ben was at her table. She nodded once, a small movement. The waiter frowned, then went to fill Ben's order.

  Ben ignored the interchange. He waited until the waiter was gone. "Well?"

  Candyce swallowed. She hardly knew how to talk to him. Best to just get it over with. "I'm pregnant."

  "Pregnant?" Ben sat back and ran a hand through his perfectly combed hair, messing it. The self-confidence disappeared and something else flashed through. His calculating look. Finally, he was beginning to look like the man she remembered. "Are you sure it's mine?"

  The flush grew deeper. She could feel it heating her face. She gripped the arms of her chair, holding herself back and forcing herself to keep her voice low. "I'm positive. You were the first, and probably the last, for me."

  He grinned and ran a callused hand over her cheek. "Ah, now Candy, I wasn't that bad."

  "Bad?" She pushed her chair back so that he couldn't touch her. "I still have scars." She pulled open the collar on her turtleneck to reveal the pink scrapes on the side of her neck.

  He examined them like a jeweler appraising a diamond. His fingers were gentle, his breath smelling faintly of cinnamon. "Hmm. I was a little rough, wasn't I?"

  "A little? A little?" Her voice was rising. She looked down and caught hold of herself.

  "And for two days afterward, you were so horny you couldn't sit still."

  She brought her head up in surprise. She hadn't told anyone that.

  He was smiling. The warmth in his eyes reminded her of the night they went up to the top of Skinner Butte in her old Pontiac. They had walked around the path overlooking the city, and kissed—just once—as twilight fell. "It happens that way sometimes," he said. "Especially with virgins."

  She frowned. She knew sex was painful at first, but she hadn't thought it would be that painful. Still, he probably knew better. She took a fry off her plate. "I was wondering if you would put up some of the money."

  "Money?" He had moved closer. She didn't remember him changing to another chair. He put his hand on her leg. Her blood turned to liquid heat. The aroused feeling she had fought after he attacked her was back, stronger than it had ever been.

  "I don't want to raise a child alone."

  His hand had moved its way to her groin. His fingers pressed against the stitching in her jeans. A small moan escaped her. Hard to believe she had ever been frightened of this man. He leaned forward, cupping her cheek with his other hand, and
then his lips brushed hers, gently, so gently. She didn't want gentle. She wanted more. She opened his mouth and tasted it. So sweet, so good, like a rich wine going down. She pressed against his hand, wishing he would unzip her jeans. There was room on the table. All they had to do was push the plate aside …

  Then he pulled away. His smile was soft. "See how different it is after the first time? I'm sorry I scared you."

  "You ran away. I thought you didn't want me."

  "That much passion scared me too. I should have come for you sooner. I'm sorry." He stood, and extended a hand to her. She stood beside him, never taking her gaze from his face. She had forgotten how long his lashes were, how bright his eyes.

  He pulled some money out of a money clip in his pocket and tossed a number of bills on the table. Then he extended his arm. She took it, feeling the others in the pub watching her. She had caught this beautiful man. He was taking her away from here.

  He pushed open the double doors and led her into the cool, rainy night. "I have a room at the Hilton," he said. "Come with me?"

  "Oh, yes." It was like a dream, like something in those romance novels her mother had forbidden her to read. Raindrops sparkled on the newly planted trees along Fifth. The light from the Oregon Electric Station Restaurant was soft, bathing the entire neighborhood in a yellow glow.

  Ben glanced at no one. He put his free hand over hers. His expensive shoes clicked on the pavement. Her tennies were silent in the wet.

  When they crossed the street against the light, the traffic stopped. People in Delbert's Cafe across from the post office all looked out the window as Candyce and Ben passed. The Hilton was only half a block away, but that was half a block too far. She wanted him now.

  They ran across Sixth, past the valet parking and into the front door. Piano music echoed across the lobby. A group of overdressed men laughed near the front door. A young couple wearing formal dress were waiting for the elevator. Ben pulled a key from his pocket and stopped beside them.