We reach the top, which dead ends at a door. JR knocks.
“Enter,” a man commands with a British accent.
JR walks through the door, and we follow like good hostages. Okay, wasn’t expecting this. If downstairs is Sodom and Gomorrah, upstairs is where tweedy scholars study Sodom and Gomorrah. It’s downright tasteful, with polished wood walls spruced up with pretty paintings of ballet dancers, cityscapes, and the odd portrait of a staunch man or woman from the Romantic era. An entire wall consists of books, hard and soft cover, from pop art to murder mysteries. A fellow reader; maybe he won’t be so bad. The hardwood floor is covered with a deep red Persian rug that matches the color of the huge desk. On the wall behind the desk are two long swords crisscrossing each other, both with elaborate gold handles.
Two men wait in the study. The closer one lounges on the burgundy leather sofa, arm draped around the back. He wears a severe business suit, dark blue pinstripe with crisp white shirt, matching vest, and light blue tie. Très CEO. His wavy blonde hair is moussed to perfection. His aqua blue eyes appraise us, but no emotion surfaces.
The other man sits behind the desk and from across the room it seems as if the desk overwhelms him. He’s attractive, but not beautiful like his friend, with wild curly brown hair, dull brown eyes, a pinched nose too small for his face, and a pointed chin. Still, the features suit him, especially with the goatee. He folds his arms on the desk, fingers lacing. A huge grin brightens his face.
“So glad you could join us, old friend,” Deskman says with that clipped British accent.
Friend? Great. “You just make friends everywhere, don’t you?” I mutter to Oliver, but he ignores me.
“As if we were given a choice,” Oliver says.
Gerry finally removes the gun, stepping toward JR as Deskman rises. I judge him to be a little taller than me, but not by much. “Not happy to see me, I gather.”
“Having your pathetic henchmen abduct me and my companion at gunpoint does not endear you to me, friend.”
“I did not think you would have come otherwise,” Deskman, who must be Lord Freddy, says as he steps out from behind the desk. He wears a conservative white shirt and gray pants. He looks like an architect, not the owner of an S&M club.
“I would not,” Oliver replies.
Another grin from Freddy. “JR, Geraldo, please escort Oliver’s pretty companion downstairs and make sure she has a good time.”
Oliver steps in front of JR before he even moves. “You touch her and I will rip off your testicles and eat them in front of you, do you understand me?” He says it with such utter conviction, I get chills.
JR’s eyes narrow, but Freddy smiles. “Now, now. Play nice, Ollie,” Freddy says.
“She remains with me, that is all I will request from you,” Oliver says. “Please.”
Freddy is taken aback. He chuckles. “My, my Ollie. Has a heart actually grown where there was once an empty hole?”
“No. I may simply require her to save my life at some point during this meeting. She cannot do that from downstairs.”
Freddy and the other suit eye me. “You believe she can protect you from us?” Freddy asks.
“I know she can.”
Freddy mulls this over, pursing his lips and folding his arms across his chest. “I am intrigued. She may remain. Gentlemen, please wait downstairs, but do keep yourselves handy. Apparently I may need assistance in subduing this angelic creature later on.”
JR and Gerry nod, then walk past us, glaring at Oliver, who glares right back. When the door shuts, Freddy hops up on the desk like it’s his daddy’s, legs dangling. “The years have been kind to you, Ollie. Modernity suits you.”
“You as well.” He looks to the suit on the couch. “Hello, Anton.”
“Oliver,” Anton says with an Eastern European accent.
“Oh, I am sorry. How rude of me,” Freddy says mock serious. “I have neglected my hosting duties. I have not introduced everyone to your fetching bodyguard. Where are my manners?” He jumps off the desk and walks over to me. “I am Lord Frederick St. Clair and this is Anton Evanesky, my right hand. And you are?”
“Beatrice.”
“Beatrice. Beautiful name. Were your parents fans of the Bard or Dante?”
“Neither. I was named after my mother’s favorite soap opera character.”
Freddy grins again. “Honest. I do hope that virtue has infected my old friend here.” He eyes Oliver up and down, a little mirth leaving his eyes. “You did not think you could come to my town without me finding out about it, did you?”
“We did not intend to remain long,” Oliver says. “How did you find out, Freddy? Was it your two child whores?”
“If you are referring to Denise and Pamela, they merely put the thought into my head and called when they found you. No, I am afraid Marianna alerted me to your presence this evening. She knows of our … history.”
That b-word!
“Of course,” Oliver says.
“What are you doing here, Ollie?” Freddy asks.
“Just passing through. We were leaving tomorrow, but if you desire, we can depart tonight. You need not do something you shall regret.”
I can feel it in the air as the worm turns. Freddy’s smile drops as he stalks toward Oliver, fangs bared. “You do not tell me what to do, Oliver. You are in my territory, governed by my laws. Off the top of my head I can list five you have broken, all punishable by death.”
“I have broken no true laws, and you know it. You cannot scare me with idle threats, and you are no fool. Killing me without cause would endear you to no one. Remember who my friends are.”
“Friends is not a word I would use to describe them,” Freddy says. “They would not lift a pen to save you.”
“Do you wish to take that chance?”
“More than you know.”
“Frederick,” Anton says reproachfully.
Freddy’s head whips toward Anton. “I have heard all your objections, Anton. They grow tiresome.”
“He is correct about the possible political ramifications. We do not need to give anyone more ammunition, especially after the trouble your friends downstairs have caused in the last few months.” Anton glares at me, mouth set straight.
“That is another topic I grow tired of. We will not speak of it in mixed company.”
“Have you become lax in your duties, Frederick?” Oliver asks with grin Number Three.
“Stop it,” I mutter. That is one of the things I don’t get about men, their need to antagonize. That and the whole Chuck Norris thing.
All three men look my way. Oliver glares, Anton sizes me up, and Freddy smiles. “Ollie, you should listen to your consort. I believe she is as wise as she is beautiful.” His smile widens. “Would you care to sit down? You appear exhausted, fair Beatrice.”
I glance at Oliver, who nods. I don’t know what the heck is going on, what their deal is, but me sitting down won’t hurt things. I rest next to Anton, who remains emotionless. Freddy takes the seat next to me, so I’m wedged between two hostile vamps. Freddy leans back in the couch, draping his arm over the back on my side. He crosses his legs and smiles again. Oliver takes a few steps, but Freddy’s head whips back. “I did not give you permission to move, Oliver,” Freddy hisses.
“It’s okay,” I say to Oliver.
“I just wish to get to know your pretty friend, Ollie. Surely you do not object to a civilized conversation?”
I shoot him the “keep your mouth shut” look. A scowl forms, but he says nothing.
“Good,” Freddy continues. “How did the angel meet the devil?”
“In a library. He hit on me, and I told him to buzz off. He didn’t, and he just grew on me. End of story.”
“Yes. He is quite like flesh-eating bacteria, is he not? He causes nothing but pain, and leaves his victim scarred for life. And how long has he been growing on you?”
“Two months,” Oliver answers. “And we are not lovers to answer your next question
.”
“And yet you have been introducing her as your wife, Ollie. She is registered as your consort. And it looks as if you have marked her otherwise pristine neck. That is your handiwork, no?”
Oliver’s scowl deepens. I’ve never seen him look at someone with such utter contempt, not even Will. Freddy revels in it, his face lighting up. Whatever happened between these two was bad, and I have the distinct feeling I’m about to be drawn into the middle of it.
“It was an accident,” I say.
Freddy’s attention returns to me. “Was it? And you forgave him?”
“I think forgiving past wrongs is the only way for us to move on. Otherwise they cripple us,” I say.
“Some wrongs can never be forgiven,” Freddy counters, all joy ripped from his face. He looks back at Oliver. “And on occasion the only avenue to cope with said wrongs is to destroy the source of them.”
“It was over two hundred years ago,” Oliver says.
“And I have missed Jules every hour of that two hundred years,” Freddy snarls.
Oh, I knew it. I knew it! This is about a woman! Stupid Oliver couldn’t keep it in his pants, and now I’m going to die because of it. Why am I not surprised?
“Wonderful, just wonderful,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
“Did you say something, Beatrice?” Freddy asks.
“Nope. Not a thing.”
“Does it surprise you to learn this about your lover?” Freddy asks.
“Nope. He’ll sleep with anything. I’ve seen him hit on trees.” Okay, there was a pixie in the tree, but still. “And he’s not my lover.”
“You share a hotel room. He calls you his wife.”
“I take the bed, he’s in his coffin. And the wife thing was my idea so the other vamps would leave me alone.”
“She does not lie,” Oliver says. “I took her on this trip in the hopes of remedying her reluctance, but her will is too strong. I actually grow tired of her frigidity.” He looks down at me, meeting my eyes. His grow wide. “I was planning to leave her on the next leg of our trip.” Grin Number Four surfaces.
Oh!
“What?” I snap. “You were what?”
“I am sorry, my darling, but it is true.”
“You were just going to abandon me in San Diego?” I cry, doing an Oscar-worthy performance of the wronged woman. Joan Crawford would be proud. “What about what you said in Chicago? That you’d give me as much time as I needed, huh? Forget about that, you creep?”
“I lied. I thought it would be amusing to see how long it would take for you to spread your legs. But the farce has grown … dull. Rather like you.”
I jump off the couch, hands on my hips. “Well, excuse me for having some morals! There are some of us who wait to fall in love before letting a living dead man into their most sacred place! And to think I stayed with you after you went crazy and bit me!” I look at Freddy. “You can stake him now! I don’t care! Do us all a favor!” I flop back on the couch, folding my arms with a huff.
Freddy’s smile stretches so far he looks like the Joker from Batman. “My, my. You have not changed, have you Ollie? Leaving broken hearts wherever you go.” The smile fades. “Such a shame I did not believe a word of it.”
“I want nothing to do with him,” I say. “Believe it or not, but it’s the truth.” For the love of Christ, believe me.
“Beatrice, angel,” Freddy says with a quick smile, “it does not matter if I believe you. It matters that I believe him.”
“I—”
I don’t see him move. I blink and the snarling Freddy is on top of me, his whole weight pressed against me. One moment I’m sitting up, and the next I have my head in Anton’s lap while Freddy straddles me, two long fingers on either side of my windpipe. Anton seems as surprised as I am, his arms raised as if a tarantula just jumped on his thigh.
“Do not move!” Freddy roars at Oliver, putting pressure on my neck.
My eyes dart to Oliver, who hovers above wide-eyed in fear and hatred. “Release her,” he says sounding more than a little afraid.
“Oh, I knew you cared,” Freddy says mock serious. His grin forms cheek to cheek.
“Her ex-lover is an officer of the law,” Oliver says quickly. “He knows she is here. There would be a nationwide manhunt.”
“Frederick,” Anton says, still not moving
“Silence!” Freddy shouts. He squeezes tighter. I can barely breathe now. My eyes water. I think they’re tears.
“Killing a human is punishable by death!” Oliver shouts. “The F.R.E.A.K.S. will not let this pass!”
“They have not caught me yet,” Freddy says to me.
“This time they will,” Oliver shouts. “They know we are here! I am working with them!”
“Lies!”
Oh, God. I see spots. I try to use my power to push him off, but it doesn’t work. He doesn’t budge. The world starts spinning.
“Frederick, release her!” Anton orders. He shoves the insane vamp by the shoulders, pushing him off me and the couch. Freddy tumbles over the side. I gasp for breath the moment I feel the fingers leave.
“How dare you touch me!” Freddy roars from the ground.
Oliver is beside me in a blink, wrapping his arms around me as I gasp and cough. He strokes my hair, rocking me as I clutch onto his shirt, wiping my tears on it.
“He is employed by the F.R.E.A.K.S.,” Anton says. “Do you really want them upon our heads more than they apparently already are? Is your revenge worth that?”
“Yes,” Freddy snarls. “He must pay!”
Oliver pulls me tighter into his chest. I think he’d pull me inside him if he could. The gasps lessen. My throat aches with each breath. “Do what you will to me,” Oliver says, “but leave her be.”
Freddy glances at Anton, then Oliver, then back to Anton. He rises, smoothing his pants. He regains his composure by wiping imaginary dirt off his pants. “Then challenge me to a duel.”
“I beg your pardon?” Oliver asks.
“A duel. I have kept up with my swordplay, have you?”
“This is ridiculous,” Anton protests.
“No, it is not. If he challenges me, then we are protected under vampiric law and the F.R.E.A.K.S. cannot touch us.” Freddy grins. “And if I remember correctly, our Oliver here was never confident with a blade.” He takes a step toward us, the grin falling. “Challenge me, or I will call my men in to hold you down while I vivisect and flay your lover in front of you. Challenge me.”
“This is madness,” Anton says. “I do not—”
“I care not what you think! Challenge me!”
Oliver’s poker face has returned, but I’m sure his mind is working on every possible scenario. He drops his arms, pushing me away. “If I agree, she will not be harmed?”
“I will not so much as touch a hair on her head. Challenge me.”
Slowly, Oliver stands while not taking his eyes off Freddy. “Then I, Oliver Smythe Montrose of no land challenge you, Lord Frederick Sampson St. Clair of North Texas, to a duel.”
“And I accept,” Freddy says, bowing. “Anton, call JR and Geraldo as witnesses. And retrieve the swords.” Anton nods, glancing at us as he stands. He walks over to the phone. “We need to move the sofa, Oliver. Please stand, Miss Beatrice.”
What the heck is going on?
Oliver holds out his hand. Good thing, because the world somersaults as I stand up. Freddy pushes the couch toward the back wall. JR and Gerry enter and immediately start moving furniture off to the side. I lean against Oliver as he helps me back to the moved couch. With the others setting the stage, Freddy saunters over to Anton, who hands him one of the swords from the wall. It’s as big as I am. Oliver plops me down on the couch, and then joins me. Freddy swishes the sword to and fro, testing it.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I whisper. “Do you really think he’ll let me go just like that?”
“If I am dead then he has no reason to harm you,” Oliver whispers back.
My stomach drops at the word dead. “‘If you’re dead?’ You’re planning on dying?” I whisper.
“I shall try my best not to,” he says with grin Number Four, the “I’m in trouble” one.
“This is insane! Why don’t we just arrest him?”
“If we attempt to arrest him here, there is an entire cadre downstairs who will not allow us to leave this building alive, no matter who we are. Plus, we have no weapons or holding cell. This is the only way.” He removes his jacket and unbuttons his sleeves for better movement. “If something should happen to me, do not go back to the hotel. Call the others. Finish the mission, but do nothing to help me, do you understand?”
“Why?”
“It will null the contract. Do nothing.”
“Oliver,” Freddy says in sing-song. “Are you prepared?”
I meet Oliver’s eyes, which are steely with resolve. He cups my cheeks in his hands, pulling my face to his lips. Softly, he kisses my forehead. “I am sorry for this.” He releases my face and stands. “My sword please.”
Anton brings him the sword. Oliver takes the golden lattice handle. “Silver?”
“Naturally,” Freddy says. “The very same one I used to kill Ravi for this territory seventy years ago.”
Oliver joins Freddy in the center of the square. They’re boxed in by the couch, desk, and far wall, which Gerry and JR lean against. JR has a huge smile on his face, but Gerry looks bored. He probably planned on spending the night raping teenage girls, not watching a sword fight. Anton takes a ringside seat beside me, throwing his arm over the side of the couch like a date at a movie. I clutch onto Oliver’s jacket like a security blanket. My foot jiggles. Oliver’s old. I’m sure he’s done this lots of times. Dozens. He’ll be fine. He has to be fine.
The men face each other, raising their swords to their noses in unison, faces blank. They lower the silver swords to the ground so the pointed tips touch the ground.
To Catch a Vampire Page 16