Chapter Thirty
i
DeFreeze and Garity ran a small, but successful private detective business in downtown Portland. It took Cammie most of the afternoon to reach them by phone, and another hour to find them. Their offices were part of a mirrored high rise off the Columbia River. The interior was done in a calm, studied blue with plaques, commendations and letters of praise decorating the wall. A receptionist, who doubled as a secretary and office manager, blocked the way to the back. If Cammie had had more time, she would have picked a company whose offices were a little seedier, a company with a little more hunger and fewer commendations. A company whose owner didn't look like he spent most of his time behind a desk.
Jason DeFreeze had black hair going silver at the temples, a face flushed with too much food and alcohol, and a suit that cost Cammie's monthly salary. His office overlooked the river, and most of Portland.
"Let me get this straight," DeFreeze said, templing his fingers and rocking his leather office chair. "You want two of our men to accompany you to a bar, and then stake out your hotel room in case someone shows up."
"Yes." Cammie sat on the edge of the royal blue chair, determined not to let him intimidate her. It wasn't working. "I'll pay your normal fee, plus any retainers."
"This is very short notice."
"I know that," she said through her teeth. "I can go elsewhere."
In fact, she wanted to. She had approached DeFreeze and Garity because she couldn't reach Whitney by phone, and she didn't have time to check the credentials of any other detective agency.
"No need," he said. "We have two men who can work with you tonight, and another two who can relieve them in the morning. It all just seems odd to me, Miss Timms."
She stood, unable to sit in that sterile room any longer. "I thought you people were used to oddities."
"So we are." He leaned back and the chair squeaked. "I worry about your involvement. Why don't you let us find your brother?"
"Because you've been searching for him for weeks. I have had better luck."
The ease in his body fled at her tone. Two spots of color decorated DeFreeze's cheeks. "Oh?"
"My brother is Benjamin Sadler. His parents hired your firm some time ago, or don't you remember?"
"The Sadler case has been particularly difficult."
"I'm sure it has." Cammie put her hands on the desk and faced DeFreeze. "Let me be frank with you, Mr. DeFreeze. I am singularly unimpressed with your firm, and if I had more time, I would go elsewhere. I do a much better job by myself. Unfortunately, I need backup tonight, and I think that, despite your deficits as a private detective firm, you can provide me with muscle. Now if I'm wrong, please direct me to someone who can help me."
"We can help you," DeFreeze said. He was subdued. "We will help in any way we can."
"Good," Cammie said. "I have a check for your retainer. I will pay the balance when I come out of all this. Alive."
DeFreeze opened his mouth as if to warn her, but she raised an eyebrow and he said nothing else. He accepted her check and then buzzed the intercom. "Send in Norm and John."
Cammie sat on the arm of the chair. She had let DeFreeze have the upper hand because of his expensive office and obvious success. But she needed results if she were[C&F129] going to find Ben, and DeFreeze had not proven those, in this case.
Two men entered the room. Both were in their early twenties. One was lean and wiry, his arms corded with muscle. The other had the look of a traditional bruiser: Tall, muscular, and broad. DeFreeze introduced the lean, wiry one as John, and the muscular one as Norm.
"Have you worked with vampires before?" Cammie asked.
"They're experienced, Miss Timms." DeFreeze said.
She didn't look at him. She kept her eyes on the two men. They were studying their boss. One of the men had gone pale. "You've just observed, haven't you?" she asked. "You haven't gone into a nest. You haven't staked anyone."
"You're not asking for a staking, are you?" DeFreeze said. "It's illegal in Oregon."
"I'm asking for protection," Cammie snapped. She sighed. She would have a lot of work to do with them in the next few hours.
ii
Around midnight, John drove the battered brown station wagon to a parking spot across the street from the Keg. The neighborhood had not improved. In fact, Cammie's memory of it had been charitable. Winos sprawled on the sidewalk and derelict cars littered the alley. A faint scent of garbage filtered through the open window.
Norm sat in the back. Neither man had spoken since Cammie had gone through Sarge's Eradication routine with them. "You got everything?" Cammie asked.
John patted the duffel beside him. "Put on the garlic when you leave, then decorate the car with it. Time the meeting carefully. If I[C&F130] haven't come out in [C&F131] half an hour, go in, garlic blazing."
"With stakes," Norm said. His nervousness would be an asset. He had looked decidedly queasy when she discussed the difficulties of staking an awake vampire.
"That's right. Now be careful. Essentially,[C&F132] you're drugging them. The secret is to have enough garlic to incapacitate rather than make them lose their inhibitions. If you come in too late, I could be dead. If I die, you don't get paid. Is that clear?" She probably didn't need to be that harsh, but she had never been in a situation like this with unreliable back-up. Whitney would have needed no special instructions. Whitney would have been helping her with the plan.
Her mouth was dry. She wasn't sure if this would work, but it was the best idea she could come up with. If her brother had not been promiscuous, then maybe he would investigate her claim out of sheer curiosity.
If he had freedom of movement.
Even if he didn't, someone had sent him after Candyce. The trick had to work.
Cammie checked her ponytail, then smoothed her T[C&F133] -shirt over her jeans. She got out of the station wagon and hurried across the street, glancing on either side to see if she was noticed.
If she was, she had no clue. The winos didn't move, and no one emerged from the sex shop next to the bar. Her hands were shaking. Half an hour, guys, she thought. Please pay attention.
She went down the filthy concrete steps and pulled open the heavy oak door. The smell of rotting blood hit her first, followed by a musky scent she had never encountered before. Incense overlaid it all with a sweetness that turned her stomach and sent a charge down to her groin.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. An old Mr. Mister song blared over the stereo system, and provided the only noise in the room. Red-colored lamps graced the tables and illuminated the drugged faces of the humans waiting their turn. The bartender looked at her, his eyes clear. He knew she didn't belong.
Laughter tinkled out of the back. A woman, swaying with desire, grabbed at the man who had led her out of a side room. Vampire and his catch. Cammie's nausea was growing worse.
She walked over to the bar. The faint scent of beer reached her. Some of the patrons held a draft. But no liquor sat on the shelves. Only a large cash register, its drawer open and brimming with money. The bartender was a large man with meaty arms. He wore a butcher's apron over his brown slacks and flannel shirt.
"First time cover charge is fifty bucks," the bartender said over the music.
The price was higher than she’d expected. But, she supposed, if a cop came in here with the thought of closing the place down, he probably wouldn't get out alive. "I'm not here for the entertainment," she said. "I have a message for Steve."
"Steve?"
"His roommate told me I could find him here. Please," she said. "It's very important."
"Yeah, sure." The bartender pulled a tap handle and filled a mug with cold beer. He set it in front of Cammie. "You know how many guys named Steve are in here tonight?"
"How many are regulars?" she asked. "How many have been coming here for years?"
"Years." The bartender squinted at her. "The drink's on the house."
"I haven't paid the cov
er yet," she said.
The bartender studied her for a moment. His eyes were sunken into his round face. Small lines dotted his mouth, like an inexperienced artist's attempt at shadowing. "No," he said. "I guess you haven't."
A chill ran down her back. He knew she wasn't going to host one of his vampires. Unless he forced her. "Steve," she prompted.
The bartender took the beer back and poured it in the sink behind the bar. "The one you want is in the vampire's circle. He likes 'em small and busty, like you. He should enjoy himself."
"If he does," she said. "You won't make your fifty dollar cover."
"If he does," the bartender said. "You won't care if I take your clothes, let alone your money."
The chill had grown to a shudder. She gave the bartender a saucy smile, then walked around the tables[C&F134] and down the stairs to the vampire's circle.
In the corner, near an unused fireplace, two women worked on a man. One sucked his neck while the other covered his groin. The man had a listless, glazed look to his face. Occasionally, he would press one of the women's heads even harder into his flesh.
A slender woman sat in a high-backed chair by the wall. A man walked over to her, and she took his arm, sinking her teeth into the wrist. He cried out in pleasure and slid a hand to his own groin.
Cammie felt an odd detachment, as if her mind were separate from her body. She was disgusted and lost inside a wall within herself. Yet her nipples were hard, and her body trembled. She felt the arousal and tried to ignore it, thinking perhaps that it was part of the air—that they had released a chemical that triggered sexual response.
She didn't want to think that the response was hers alone.
Directly in front of Cammie, a naked woman sat on a man's lap. He sucked her breasts and she moaned in sexual ecstasy, writhing and pitching against him, as if the experience took her beyond her body.
The nausea that had threatened worked its way to Cammie's throat. She swallowed hard. A slender woman dressed in white came up to her. The woman had mahogany skin and a wide, kissable mouth. She placed a cold hand on Cammie's arm. "You could come with me if you like," the woman said.
Cammie resisted the urge to move away. "Actually," she said. "I'm looking for Steve."
The woman took her hand off Cammie's arm. "He's in that room," she said, nodding toward a beaded door on the left. Then she walked up the stairs, and took the hand of a woman waiting at one of the tables. Cammie made herself look away.
She pushed open the beaded door. The room smelled of blood and sex. Steve was on a futon, completely naked, his chest covered in blood. A man lay across him, eyes half open. The red light caught a thin, angry wound on the man's neck.
"You look fresh," Steve said, sitting up and pushing the man aside. Cammie's heart was pounding. Even if he caught her, the boys would come get her. Even if he bit her, she would survive the first time. But she had no idea what would happen next. She might die like so many others. Or her heredity might come through, and she might turn.
"I didn't come for sex," she said. "I came because I was told you could find Ben."
Steve got up and crossed over to her. He ran a hand over her breast, smearing blood on her T-shirt. Her nipples ached. She swallowed again to keep her gorge down, but let him touch. "You don't want Ben."
"I do," she said. "I'm pregnant."
Steve snatched his hand away as if he had been burned. "Randy little son of a bitch, isn't he?" Steve said. "How come I don't know you?"
"I don't know," Cammie said. His mood change frightened her more than his touch had. She backed away.
He glanced down at her stomach. "You're not showing. Sure this isn't some kind of trick?"
"It's not a trick!" Cammie let the terror into her voice. "He stayed with me for a few nights. He said he was coming to see you and I haven't heard from him since. Your roommate told me I could find you here."
"Fucking Scott," Steve muttered. He sat back down on the futon. The man sighed and put a hand on Steve's leg. Steve pushed it away. Steve ran his tongue over his lips. "Tell you what," he said. "You give me a free one, and I'll tell you how to find Ben."
Cammie shook her head. Her time had to be nearly up. "I'm not that way. I don't know what happened when I met Ben, because it happened so fast. But I've never been in a place like this before, and I really don't want to stay."
"Ben would probably kill me if I messed with his sport anyway," Steve said.
Cammie let out a silent sigh of relief. She reached into her back pocket and handed Steve a piece of notepaper with the Hilton's phone number and her room extension. "I don't want to keep looking. Tell him I'll wait for his call, okay? I just want to talk to him."
Steve glanced at the card, then walked over to the pile of clothes in the corner and tucked the card inside. "Don't know when I'll get a chance to call him," Steve said.
"Look," Cammie said. "I'll pay you."
Steve came back to her and slid a hand under her T-shirt. His palm was cold. His touch made her breast cold. He dug his fingers into the soft skin until she started from the pain. "I don't need money," he said. "After that baby's born, you come back to me, and give me a taste of that sweet body of yours. Otherwise,[C&F135] I'll find some other way to make you pay. Clear?"
Cammie nodded. It felt as if he were going to rip her breast off. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
"Okay." He let her go. She staggered back a step. "I'll find Ben for you, sweet thing."
"Thank you," she said, and ducked out of the room. The writhing couples in the vampire center looked like they were doing an odd dance. The blood smell seemed to have gotten stronger. She ran up the stairs, through the tables, and out the door.
When the fresh air hit her, the nausea took over. She vomited on the sidewalk, then leaned against a telephone pole, trying to catch her breath. So close. So very close. Now she had to hope that Steve would keep his word.
Hands touched her shoulder and she shook them off.
"Hey," a soft voice said. "It's just John. You okay?"
She nodded and stood up, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. John led her to the car. He smelled of garlic. They had been about to come in. She would have been safe after all.
She slid into the car next to Norm. She picked up his garlic and rubbed it against herself. She was safe.
For the time being, she was safe.
Chapter Thirty-One
"You're hard to find, man." The gaunt man leaning against the doorjamb wore a leather jacket, torn jeans, and Nikes. His untrimmed black hair brushed against his shoulders. His teeth were stained.
Ben held the door by the edge, wondering why he had opened it. He had just woken up and had enough to drink to slake his deep thirst. But he was tired. And he had an evening to spend with Glenda before he went cruising. "May I help you?"
"Oh, for chrissake." The man pushed past Ben into the entry. A lamp burned over the deacon's bench that Glenda had insisted on. She hadn't arrived yet. The porch light illuminated the muddy footprints on the concrete steps.
"I didn't invite you in," Ben said.
"It's Steve, man. Close the fucking door."
Steve. Ben did close the door. The hair on the back of his neck rose. He hadn't expected Steve. It did not bode well.
Steve stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket and walked into the living room. The red sectional, chosen for comfort, not appearance, dominated the room. "Not bad." He plunked onto the armchair and put his feet on the matching ottoman. "They kicked you out of the nest, huh?"
"How did you find me?" Ben stood in the doorway. Now that Steve was in context, he did look familiar. The rangy, relaxed way he used his body spoke of nights cruising the Gut in Eugene, Steve's body lounged in the back seat of Ben's father's station wagon.
"Mikos told me."
The statement made Ben freeze. Mikos had wanted to keep Ben's new nest secret. This had to be important enough to send Steve over.
A car pulled up in the driv
eway, its hum reverberating through the thin walls. Glenda. Damn. He had only seen her once since the night they went furniture shopping. They met for drinks a few nights ago at the microbrewery near the house, but he had not brought her back. Tonight was supposed to be the full-blown seduction. The effort he was making at self-control already made him cranky.
"Is this important, or can we talk later?"
Steve put his arms behind his head. The jacket was worn and cracked on the elbows. "Odd. Maybe important. But definitely odd."
Glenda knocked on the door, then opened it. She wore a low-cut blouse with a half bra underneath, accenting her cleavage. The skirt and high heels gave her legs shape. "Hi," she said. "Hope you don't mind the intrusion."
Her grin faded when she saw Steve. Steve smiled at her, raising himself to full height.
Ben's shoulders got tight. This wasn't going to go well. "Glenda, meet Steve."
She walked over to the armchair and held out her hand. Steve stared at it for a moment, then glanced at Ben. Ben crossed his arms. Steve took her hand, and shook it, keeping his gaze on Ben. "How fucking suburban," Steve said.
Glenda took her hand back as if she had been burned.
"Steve and I went to high school together," Ben said. "He showed up about fifteen minutes before you did, claiming he had important news."
"Personal news," Steve said. "Not for cow—"
Ben frowned.
"Cowards or ladies." Steve smiled and bowed at Glenda. "Maybe you can wait for him in the bedroom."
"That bar you hang out in stole your manners," Ben snapped.
Glenda wiped her hand on her skirt. "I can come back later," she said.
Ben walked over to her, slipped his arm around her, and kissed her. She tasted good. God, he was ready for her. Her body relaxed into his. "Just give us a moment, darling," he said. "You can stay, but I think Steve wants to talk in private."
"All right," she said. "But don't be long." She slipped out of his arms and went through the kitchen into the family room. After a moment, the television blared the Tonight Show theme song.
Sins of the Blood: A Vampire Novel Page 27