ii
It was nearly an hour later when Ben left the library. He was tired and a bit discouraged. The elation he had felt when he found Cam had eased into a small disquiet. The memories she brought with her were tender: full of hugs and warmth. For the first time, he felt as if someone had actually loved him. But this Cam-Cam was an adult, who had lived for a lifetime without him. He knew nothing of her and hadn't had a chance to get to know her. The garlic-[C&F148] induced lust that had forced him to attack her had left them strangers.
Except that the lust hadn't dissipated.
It was the one thing he didn't discuss with Mikos, for Mikos saw nothing wrong with it. But Mikos didn't notice the pain in Cam's eyes when Ben touched her, or her passivity when he fondled her. She rarely took any initiative, and only then when he insisted. Despite her distaste, though, he couldn't stay away.
Not ever.
He walked down the hall to the kitchen, clutching his now-empty glass. He would have a nightcap, then check on Cam and lock her in, as Mikos suggested. The sounds of the nightly party had dimmed to an occasional drunken giggle. But from the kitchen he heard voices.
Female.
And one of them was Cam's.
"This is real wine!" she said.
"That wine, it is for the hosts." Van. Ben clenched his fists. Van was with her. He pushed open the double doors. Cam was beside the sink, Van beside her, leaning against the counter. They weren't touching.
"What's going on?" he snapped, looking at Van.
Van smiled, her small features holding a challenge. "I was explaining to your sister that she will feel better when she learns how to control her body."
"She's doing fine now," Ben said.
"Oh, no. She is disgusted with herself. She cannot stop the lust. But I have told her there will come a time when she will learn how to use it to her advantage." She ran a hand along Cam's shoulder. "Ask me, child, if you need anything."
Cam nodded. Van walked past her. Ben grabbed Van's hand. "You leave her alone," he said softly.
"Afraid that I will kill her like I did your prize brood mare?" Van laughed. "This one, she will be much more difficult to harm. I would be careful with her."
Van wrenched her hand out of Ben's grasp and went through the kitchen doors.
Ben went over to Cam and put a hand on her back. She stiffened. He tried to ignore the movement. "Did she hurt you?"
Cam shook her head. "She just told me the physical progression. She said I should ask you about it, since you just went through it."
Good. She had questions. Maybe that meant she was accepting. "We only have an hour before sunrise," he said, going to the refrigerator and pouring himself another glass, "but I'll tell you as much as I can."
Chapter Forty-Two
Because Eliason put up the money, he was the one elected to do the less dangerous job of guarding the van. The van belonged to DeFreeze. It was a black 1970s model that held more than it should. DeFreeze had built a dividing wall between the driver's seat and the back of the van. He had also customized the license plate holder so that the plate was difficult to read, even up close.
The early morning sunlight made the neighborhood outside the Keg look even seamier than it was. The paint was peeling off the buildings,[C&F149] and litter covered the streets. A wino—or perhaps a vampire victim—slept in a nearby alley, covered with newspapers. Eliason sat in the van's driver's seat with the window down, gagging occasionally at the fetid stench that rose off the unwashed streets.
He hoped they would hurry. Waiting out here might have been the easy job but it certainly wasn't the best. If something happened to them inside he had no way of knowing. He just hoped Whitney was right about being able to buy vampires out of a nest like that. If he wasn't, they could all be hurt.
Eliason ran a damp hand along his jeans. He was tired, and sitting here quietly wasn't helping. They had stayed up all night preparing the van—the back end was buried in garlic. They had cleaned out the garlic in two local Safeways as well as used all of Whitney's stock. As the warm sun beat on the van, the heat would release some of that stench to mix with the other wonderful odors on the street. Eliason could hardly wait.
He glanced at his watch. They had been inside for fifteen minutes.
DeFreeze had insisted on it remaining the three of them. There seemed to be a tacit understanding that they might break Oregon law. DeFreeze had provided the equipment, including a gurney, Eliason was putting up the money, and Whitney was providing his expertise.
Eliason hoped that would be enough. Cammie didn't have much time.
Then the door to the Keg burst open. Whitney came out lugging the gurney up the flight of stairs. DeFreeze was behind him, suit wrinkled, and tie gone. A coffin-sized box wobbled on the gurney top. An overweight man wearing a butcher's apron stood behind them, watching.
They had him.
Eliason got out of the van and hurried around back to open the double doors. The odor of garlic was overpowering. It covered everything. Whitney was breathing heavily. His face was red with strain. Eliason helped them lift the gurney into the back, surprised at the weight, and amazed they had managed it.
Whitney grabbed Eliason's arm. "Come with me," he said. He leaned over to the side, and said to DeFreeze, "You drive."
Eliason immediately understood. They were providing an alibi for DeFreeze. Those guys were from the Midwest. Things are different there. I had no idea what they were planning.
Whitney stepped into the back and Eliason followed. Then Whitney pulled the door closed, and Eliason turned on the overhead light. The lid on the box had slid half off and steam was coming from inside. A man moaned, as if he were coming out of sleep.
Whitney put on thick leather gloves, then pulled the lid the rest of the way off.
The man inside was too thin. His skin had a vampire's pallor, but he had no other distinguishing characteristics. His right arm steamed where the sun must have struck it. He reached slowly to touch it as the van lurched forward.
"Hey!" His words were sleep blurred. "What gives."
"We bought you from your leech," Whitney said. He took a bulb of garlic and rubbed it along the edge of the coffin.
"Hey!" The vampire screamed and pushed back, but his movements were feeble. "Stop that!"
"Steve Henderson?" Eliason asked.
The vampire blinked at him. "Do I know you?"
"Not yet," Whitney said. He tossed the bulb to Eliason. Eliason held it like a shield.
The vampire must have suddenly realized he was in danger. He tried to sit up, but fell over against the side of the coffin. The gurney slipped along the van's floor. Eliason reached down and locked the wheels.
Whitney pulled out two small stakes and a mallet. The vampire screamed and tried to shield his chest. "Grab his hand and put it against the side," Whitney said.
Eliason did. The vampire was surprisingly weak. Whitney picked up one stake and pounded it through the vampire's palm. The vampire's scream sounded almost human, but no blood spattered either of them. Eliason was shaking. He had never intentionally harmed another being before. He had to remind himself that if the vampire lived, the wounds would disappear. This would only cause pain. Nothing more.
He grabbed the other hand and held it down while Whitney nailed it into the coffin. Then Whitney shoved a clove of garlic in the vampire's mouth. The vampire bucked and kicked with his legs, but missed them both.
The van swerved around a corner, and Eliason nearly lost his balance. The smell of garlic was making him nauseous.
Whitney held a garlic bulb in front of the vampire's face. The vampire's face had become green. "You realize," Whitney said, "that I can make you very ill with this. I read somewhere that if a vampire ingests garlic, it rots in him. You'll get very sick, and be unable to eat. You'll go crazy for a few days. Loose your mind completely. One clove won't hurt you, but a bulb, well, that's another story."
"No!" the vampire whimpered. He tugged, as if trying to free
his hands.
"Of course, we could just stake you here. Now. But we don't want to do that."
The van weaved all over the road. Eliason swallowed to keep his meager breakfast down. He didn't want to be part of this. He was a healer, not a man who maimed. "Look," he said. "A woman came to you a few days ago, looking for Ben Sadler. Where is she now?"
The vampire licked his lips. He tried to raise his head near Eliason's neck. He snapped at the vein, but Eliason moved out of reach. The garlic was taking effect. The vampire's eyes were rolling in the back of his head. "She was staying at the Hilton. Gave Ben the number. Sweet thing. Smelled—fresh…like you." He snapped again.
Whitney held the bulb over the vampire's nose. He brought his head down. "Where is she now?"
"Hotel?" The word had a mushy sound. The vampire licked his lips. "You smell good. Please. Just a little taste?"
Eliason pushed Whitney's hand away. "Someone showed up at the hotel and took her away. We think it was your friend Ben. Where would he have taken her?"
"To the nest." The vampire tugged on his arm. The stake in his right hand was coming loose. Whitney glanced at it.
"Where's the nest?" Eliason asked.
The vampire laughed. He ran his tongue over his teeth. "Can't tell you that. Mikos…kill me."
Whitney pounded the stake deeper into the vampire's hand. "I'll kill you if you don't say anything," Whitney said.
"Seattle!" The vampire screamed. "Seattle! The nest is in Seattle!"
"Good." Whitney leaned forward. His eyes were bright. He was enjoying this. Eliason swallowed hard. "But Seattle is a big place. Where in Seattle?"
The vampire shook his head. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth and his eyes were glazed. "Can't…Mikos…kill…"
Whitney shoved another clove of garlic in the vampire's mouth. This time, the vampire bit his fingers. The vampire's teeth went through the glove but didn't break the skin. Whitney hit him with the back of his hand, and Eliason heard the gulp as the vampire compulsively swallowed the garlic.
"You're killing me, man," the vampire said. He tilted his head back. "God, I need a fuck. Some blood, man…please…a fuck?"
"In a minute," Eliason said. "First tell us where the nest is."
The vampire's eyes focused on Eliason's face. "Then you'll fuck me?" His voice sounded thick as if his tongue had swollen in his mouth. "God, man, that's great. You're one of the most beautiful cows I've ever fucking seen. Ever. I'll make you feel real good."
Eliason resisted the urge to turn away. Whitney had done this before. Cammie and Whitney killed people like this all the time. He didn't know how they could. The vampire seemed human.
Human enough to beat the crap out of children.
Human enough to leave bodies in the street.
"The nest," Eliason said.
Whitney leaned closer. The vampire screamed. "Keep him away from me!"
Eliason nodded at Whitney. The van started bumping. They were apparently on gravel road. DeFreeze was taking them outside the city, as he had promised.
"Where's the nest?" Eliason asked.
"Promise you'll fuck me?" The vampire was whispering. "Promise?"
"As soon as you tell me," Eliason said. He needed this to end. Cammie or no Cammie, this was beyond him.
"Near Elliot Bay. Downtown." He whispered an address. "Upstairs. Third floor. Italian restaurant on the ground. Good cover, Mikos says." He licked his lips. "Now, free my hands. I promise you…oh, God."
He convulsed once. Red tinged beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
"Rap on the wall," Whitney said. "Get DeFreeze to stop."
Eliason stood, glad to be away from that scene. He rapped on the metal van side with the pre-arranged triple knock. Then he heard one of the most terrifying screams he had ever heard.
He turned to see Whitney pounding a stake in the vampire's heart. Blood gushed all over the back of the van, bits of garlic mixed in. Still Whitney held. The vampire's legs flailed and kicked. Whitney kept pounding.
One of the vampire's hands ripped free, and slapped at Whitney's face. Whitney ignored it. Blood was coating his skin, dotting his hair. Some splattered on Eliason and he was startled to realize that it was cold.
Then the vampire stopped moving. His skin sank in on itself and grew withered as if he had aged. The van skidded to a stop.
Eliason swallowed. He had to repeat the mantra he had learned in med-school when they opened cadavers. "You didn't tell me you were going to do that."
Whitney looked at him, expression hard. "What did you expect me to do? Set him free?"
"I don't know." Eliason ran a hand through his short, curly hair. "I hadn't thought that far."
"Well, get out, and see if we're in a suitable area. We can't let DeFreeze see this."
"Right." Eliason opened the back door to the van. They were in a forest, apparently up an old logging road. The air here smelled refreshingly of pine. DeFreeze had just come around the right side of the van. His eyes widened when he saw Eliason. Eliason glanced down at himself. He was covered in blood. He shook his head and closed the doors.
"We got the address," Eliason said.
"Good." DeFreeze's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He rubbed his hands together, and glanced around. "Old road, you know. Not really used. What do you say we clean the van up here?"
"Let Whitney do it," Eliason said. Then he pushed past DeFreeze and staggered off the side of the road. He leaned against a tree and breathed deeply to try and settle his stomach. He hoped this was worth it. If they could save Cammie, it might be. Otherwise he had just gone against all his training for nothing.
Chapter Forty-Three
Cammie woke up, groggy and disoriented. She was alone in the bed, and relieved to find herself that way. Ben had stayed until nearly dawn, talking with her, explaining the transition, and then he had left. He must have been a nice boy once, just as his adopted mother had described. There were vestiges remaining, like bits of youth still hiding in an old man's face.
A headache pounded in the back of her head. She rolled over and glanced at the clock. The red digital read-out showed 3:01 p.m. The blackout curtains made it impossible to tell time. The sun was still up.
She put her head on the pillow. Images of the previous night flashed through her mind. The lust she had felt for that poor man lying on the mat. He had still been there when she went to bed, waiting for someone else. At least she had stopped before killing him.
At least she had done that much.
That voice in the back of her head had stopped her. It had reached through the glass walls and grabbed her back. She would be an unhappy vampire, a morose woman at the mercy of her own obsession. A future she didn't want.
They had never taught that at the Center, that some vampires didn't want to live the life, although she had seen it in books.
In the rehab books.
Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips. Three p.m. She had awakened in the sunlight. Ben said sunlight would grow gradually more painful as time went on,[C&F150] but right now she could still survive in it.
And the rest of the nest couldn't.
She could survive.
She stood up. Her body ached with longing. She wanted blood so badly that if she closed her eyes, she could imagine it pouring in her mouth. So easy to slide over. So easy to become one of Mikos' victims. Nests always had a leader, and that leader always seduced the followers.
But some followers broke. That was how the Center had tracked so many nests.
Some followers broke.
She pushed her hair off her face and grabbed her clothes, tugging her jeans over her hips and pulling a sweatshirt over her head. She kept her feet bare. No one would wake up. This was the time of day when the sun was reaching its zenith. She had the power, all by herself, to break free of the nest.
She went to the door[C&F151] and turned the handle, but the door was locked. Damn. They had thought of that. Someone had realized she was a threat
.
She had always been bad at locks.
But she had had training.
She flicked on the overhead light. Her hands were shaking. Maybe she would go to the refrigerator and get a drink. Just one. The thought calmed her. She crouched in front of the lock, remembering Sarge's instructions.
Go slow. Examine what you're facing. Remain calm.
The lock was a simple latch, not a deadbolt, something easily broken with a bit of patience. She worked it until she heard it snap free. The door eased open.
The hallway was dark. She would keep it that way. She walked the length of the hall toward the kitchen before she stopped.
If she had a drink, she would be hooked again.
No. She needed a plan.
She put a hand over her face and thought. What would she and Whitney do? The big vampire first, and then the others, but there were too many for her to do in a single afternoon. With this blood weakness, she didn't have the strength. If one of them bit her, she would lose everything.
No. She had to destroy the nest without killing all the vampires. And that meant fire.
She would have to incinerate the place. And she didn't have her own equipment.
Think. Think. What would work? There were matches in the living room. People had been smoking cigarettes and she had vaguely noticed some incense burning before they went to sleep. The entire nest was strewn with papers, but she needed a catalyst. Something that would flame up quickly, that would allow it to spread.
Alcohol. If there was wine for the cows, there had to be something else. Something that burned well.
Like rum. Sarge had always recommended 151 Bacardi Rum as one way to start a house fire.
She went into the kitchen and stared at the refrigerator. It was a new model, with an ice-maker on the side. Her mouth watered. In there was solace. In there was something that would take the ache from her body and ease the trembling in her hands.
In there was insanity.
She turned her back on it. She crouched in front of the cabinet she had seen the night before, and opened it, moving bottles carefully. It was a complete bar—and in the back, three bottles of rum. One wasn't the right kind. Regular rum wouldn't burn. Only 151.
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