Joe shut the door, tension building in his head. Wonderful, now he had two charges and the thought of the male frightened him more. He flipped open the file to read it as he strode toward Mia’s cell.
He didn’t see Lydia break into a self-satisfied smile when he closed the door, tapping her pencil against the desk as she picked up the phone to tell Lee Brooks.
Still not awake, Joe observed when he reached Mia’s cell. He frowned and cleared his throat, barking, “Seven p.m. Wake up!”
Her voice was harsh and groggy, like someone who had had too much to drink the night before. “Can’t a girl get any sleep around this place? Can’t even be past sundown.”
He wasn’t about to be intimidated. “You’ve overslept. Sun’s been down for twenty minutes.”
He snapped on the overhead lights even though she hated the glare. Cursing, she sat up, rubbing at her eyes. “Shut them, you bastard!”
The sheet fell, uncovering her naked body. He turned away. “We need to talk. Get up and put some clothes on.”
The pheromone drifted his way. “Don’t have any clean clothes.”
“I’ll get you some in the morning. Just put something on.”
She took her time. Finally, she was attired in black lace panties and tank top. “Acceptable to your delicate sensibilities?”
His eyes ran down her curves. “It’ll do. I talked to Lydia like I said I would.”
“And?”
“She refuses until she’s convinced neither of you are a danger to the staff.”
“You believe that?”
“I’ve always known her to be a woman of her word.”
“Marvelous to live in a world where someone’s word still means something. So she sends you to bring the bad news. Wonder why? But at least I have the pleasure of your company.”
He set down his case. “Lydia agreed you wouldn’t be restrained except when you’re being tested.”
“And those charming gentlemen from security?”
“Only when staff needs to come in here— and Lydia is looking into phones.”
“Phones? Bullshit, she’d listen in anyway. She’s stalling. No deal, Doctor.” She pulled a chair from the desk and straddled it backwards, Marlene Dietrich style.
“I don’t know the reason you agreed to all of this or even how you came to find us, but you must have a reason. If you don’t help us, how can we help you? I swear, I’ll continue to lobby for you and Kurt.”
She shook her head. “I doubt you have any influence after all.”
“I’m the best. They’re damn lucky to have me.”
“Your lack of false-modesty is refreshing. You’re brilliant, but full of hubris Doctor.”
“Hubris?”
“Tragic heroes suffer from hubris.”
“Right.”
“You had no idea what I meant. You have no idea what you’re up against— but you’re no coward. I believe you’ll fight for us but my problem still remains. Kurt’s on one side of the wall and I’m on the other.”
“Isn’t there anything I can do?”
“Perhaps… ” She rose from her chair and went over to the desk to open a locked drawer. It amazed him how tiny she really was, no taller than his eleven-year-old twins. After rummaging for a moment, she pulled out a cream-colored envelope with the Genpath logo and brought it to him. “If someone could act as postman between us? Someone not enamored of the inscrutable Dr. Loy? I’d be distressed if our intimate missives were to fall into the wrong hands.”
“Deliver love letters between you? Fair enough. By the way, Lydia authorized me to obtain anything you and Kurt might need— at company expense.”
“This cell is hopeless. The sheets are cheap. Get new ones.”
“So much for resting on the soil of your homeland,” he muttered under his breath.
“I wouldn’t recommend the soil of Flatbush Avenue to anyone. Pima cotton.”
“Pima cotton?”
“Fine Egyptian cotton— three hundred threads per square inch at the very least. And drawing and painting supplies.”
“You’re an artist?”
“I’m a vampire. I paint in my spare time. Books, toiletries, clothes, lingerie. Send your girlfriend if you’re embarrassed.”
He ignored her remark. “So we’re on? You’ll answer my questions?”
She flipped her hair off her face. “Hmm… ”
“Who’s hunting you?”
“Who told you that?”
“Lydia. What did you do?”
Her face twisted into distaste. “First, I was born a girl.”
“Huh?”
She shrugged. “I have a habit of pissing others off.”
“That I find difficult to believe. So you are hiding out?”
“Nosy, aren’t you? Why are you haranguing me— aside from official snitch duty?”
“Seems to me we’re the ones who stand to profit most.”
Her eyes glazed over. “When the idols fall, we’ll dance on the ruins… ”
“Idols?”
She shook her head, her mind obviously having danced somewhere far off. Just whom was she dancing there with?
“All right Mia, I did my part. Promise to do yours.”
Suddenly she was back in the room. “Gee, heard that plenty of times before, usually after men buy me dinner.” Malice flavored her smile. “Just remember Doc, who ends up dessert.”
He shuddered at her gastronomical reference.
“I won’t tell anything until I know Kurt’s safe.” Her face set into cherubic resolve. “Bring me back his answer. Then we’ll talk.”
He stood up, placing her letter in his pocket. “Fine.”
“Don’t bother to read it. You won’t be able to— neither will Dr. Loy for that matter.”
Joe supposed they communicated in some kind of code unknown to mortals. “I’ve no intention of it falling into enemy hands.”
“Good. Get out.”
Joe let himself out and continued down the hall to the next cell. The huge guard nodded and grunted, moving aside to let Joe pass. Joe took a deep breath before he placed his palm in the reader of the inner door.
The male looked up but said nothing as Joe entered. A narrow beam of light from the lamp next to his chair carved his fine-boned face into an ivory mask. Large, haunted blue eyes regarded Joe impassively. His shape was that of a very young man but one undernourished. He sat upright, dressed in blue jeans, a soft button down shirt and sneakers, tawny blond curls clipped and combed. Long delicate fingers held a book.
Silent, shunning the fluorescent lights as Mia did, but in contrast to the way she paced like a caged animal about the perimeters of her cell, he sat in solemn stillness, a condemned man waiting for the hangman. Yet to Joe’s eyes, he appeared alien, unlike Mia who looked human and female.
The male hadn’t spoken in three days. When anyone approached, he just fixed an icy blue stare and they’d back off in terror. A basin of water containing a plastic bag filled with blood sat in the sliding panel beside the door. Nausea gripped Joe momentarily, surprising him. He’d seen surgery performed on the brains of living people. Why did this bother him so much?
Joe cleared his throat. “Good evening, I’m Doctor Ansari. I’ve brought a letter from Mia. I’m not sure how you prefer to be addressed.”
The vampire’s eyes blinked once as he replied in a boyish voice, his English slightly accented, “You may call me Kurt.”
“Very well then… Kurt. How are you getting on?”
The vampire stared at him. Sudden tension flared between them. Kurt tugged at the left sleeve of his shirt then smoothed it down with his fingers. “Mia attacked a staff member. I heard screaming and shouting.”
“Yes, the psychiatrist.”
Kurt shook his head. “What have they done to her?”
“She was restrained and sedated until she calmed down.”
“You’re the neuroscientist. I’ve read your work.” Kurt smoothed his hand again over his sh
irtsleeve. “I suppose it’s pointless to ask when we’ll be re-united.”
“Dr. Loy assures me it should be soon. You read scientific journals?”
The vampire’s wary expression didn’t change, nor did he answer the question put to him. “You’re authorized to carry communication between us?”
“No, but I’m assigned to work with Mia until Dr. Rider is replaced.”
Kurt’s unearthly eyes ran over Joe again, searching. Joe was very uncomfortable.
“Aside from neurological studies, I’ve been assigned to begin a behavioral profile based on anecdotal data. So far she hasn’t cooperated. I’m hoping to gain her trust so she will.”
“To this end you’ve gone against your superior?”
Kurt tugged again at his shirt cuff. Interesting, Joe observed, a nervous gesture, hiding something yet calling attention to it at the same time.
Joe continued, “I don’t agree with Lydia. It stinks you’ve been separated without your consent. I’ll do all I can to help you both. I’ve been authorized to obtain anything you need… personal items.”
Kurt’s disturbing eyes lowered to his book again. “I arranged for the rental of a piano.”
This surprised Joe. “Piano?”
The vampire’s voice tensed. “Yes, a piano. Also, I require my notebook computer. It’s pointless to try to access anything. I made sure of that. I want it back.”
Well, he could be an arrogant little cuss.
“Give me a list. I’ll see to it personally.”
Kurt looked up again with his probing gaze and moistened his lower lip with his tongue as Joe pretended to make notes on his clipboard. “Come by tomorrow night for my reply. No one but Mia must see it. Understand? Look at me, Doctor, when I address you.”
Joe wasn’t about to cross either of them. He looked Kurt in the eye.
The vampire’s expression softened. “I’d like to arrange for flowers for Mia— a single red rose for each night we’re apart. Make sure it’s perfect and accompanies my letter.”
Was the monster a romantic?
Kurt took a small leather notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. He jotted down some items and tore the list out, handing it to Joe with the assurance of one used to giving orders. “These are the items I require. Please don’t deviate from the list.” He replaced the notebook in his pocket. His pale face suddenly clenched. “Go— I don’t wish to be disturbed.”
Joe didn’t waste any time exiting. Taking a last quick look as the observation door closed between them, he saw Kurt take up the basin containing the bag of blood in his hands and stare at it in disgust. Sensing Joe staring, he scowled before snapping off the lights.
THREE
* * * *
The next evening Joe reappeared at Kurt’s cell with two large shopping bags containing the clothing and other items they’d asked for. Joe noticed the notebook computer wasn’t on the desk as requested, however the vampire sat now on the bench of a sleek, concert grand with the name Steinway and Sons emblazoned above the keyboard, fingers resting on the keys as if about to play.
“You got your piano.”
Without any thanks the vampire replied, “You failed in obtaining my computer. The letter is on the table. Leave the parcels by the door. And the rose? Show me.”
Joe produced the rose, wrapped in tissue, surrounded by ferns. The vampire shook his head.
“What’s wrong? I specifically asked for the best.”
Kurt gestured at the wrappings. “Get rid of that trash.”
“Right.” Joe removed the ferns and paper, placing them in the wastebasket by the door and handed the flower to the vampire.
Kurt examined it as if appraising a diamond for occlusions. “Passable.”
Christ, it was just a flower. Joe grew more and more annoyed by their superior attitude. Taking for granted hours he spent tracking down grand pianos, silk panties and long stemmed red roses. They were very particular. He specified costly designer lines for his simple trousers and cotton shirts. His shoes alone cost a small fortune. She had to have a particular brand of lily-of-the-valley perfume and bath oil from the most expensive shop, not to mention Pima cotton sheets, goose-down comforter and pillows. He’d begun to think of them as a couple of spoiled brats. Luckily Jean had agreed to shop for her, sparing him the agony of those floral-scented, pastel boutiques. But, he reflected, at least they weren’t attacking him.
Kurt handed the rose back. “Don’t forget my letter.” A glimmer of expression passed over his disturbingly youthful face. “Thanks for your trouble, Doctor.”
Joe was taken aback, regarding this sudden change in attitude. “You’re welcome.”
As if reading his thoughts the vampire explained, “You’ve been fair to Mia and me where others haven’t.”
“That’s quite a trick you two have.”
“Not if one’s observant. Try it, Doctor, you may find it useful— particularly when matters of honesty are at stake.”
Joe wondered if there was a hidden meaning in Kurt’s words. “I’ll remember that.”
The vampire smiled, chilling Joe to the core, a disarming, boyish smile that conflicted sharply with the haunted eyes. “Don’t ever give me reason to question yours. Good evening, Doctor.”
What the hell did that mean? Kurt was subtle. Deep currents ran through what little he said. This was no boy but a wary, shrewd old man who’d lived through a hell of a lot, a survivor. Joe didn’t take his eyes off Kurt as he let himself out. Kurt just looked back, appraising him with his sapphire stare.
Damn it, how much did Lydia know about Kurt and Mia? She must know where they came from and why. Where did she find them? Mia might enlighten him, if she’d ever learn to trust him. But why should she? He’d failed in getting her what she wanted most. The only thing he could give her was his letter.
Mia received him coolly when he arrived at her cell, holding out her hand for Kurt’s letter. Instead of ripping it open she held it up, inhaling its smell. Intense relief appeared to flood over her, only then did she tear open the envelope. Sinking down on the bed she took in the contents. Joe craned his neck to see what he could as he set down his equipment. The writing was unrecognizable— symbols not resembling any language he was familiar with. Was it code? He wondered if he could get hold of it and decipher it somehow but moments later she tore it to shreds and took it to the bathroom, flushing it down the toilet. He closed his eyes to capture a picture of the symbols to later jot them down.
Joe had forgotten the flower, reaching down into the bag he came up with the rose. She stopped dead in her tracks as he held it out. “This is for you— from Kurt— it was supposed to go with the letter.”
“Oh— thanks.”
She just took it and set it on the desk, as if it meant nothing. A human woman might have shed a tear or smiled. Whether it struck an emotional chord was anybody’s guess. It bothered Joe that this gesture left her cold or apparently cold after all the care and concern Kurt had shown. Somehow it bothered him more than how she’d attacked Rider.
Joe remained by the door, unsure of how to begin. She studied his face for a moment. “Guess we have a deal, Doctor.”
He took out his notebook and took a seat. “I want you to tell me whatever you can, without embellishment, pertinent information on your behavior, without the sensationalism of your journal.”
She laughed. “Vampire stories have to be sensational or they aren’t much fun. It’s a full-blown Gothic tale with dark corners and mysterious strangers. I’m afraid it’s the only way I know.”
“Be serious, I’m trying to help you.”
“A girl can’t survive in my racket if she’s too serious. My modus operandi is to amuse. Two things at which I’m very accomplished— one is a witty turn of phrase— the other I’ll leave to the imagination. I know you have an active imagination.”
“Just answer my questions and I won’t bother you any more.”
“But I find you so nice to look at.” The dark eyes
gave him the once over, rosebud mouth parting slightly in a smile. “You don’t like when I compliment you?”
A little stab started behind his eyes. “Just call me Joe. If we’re going to work together, we should be on a first name basis. Don’t you think so, Mia?”
The doll’s mask became an evil pixie’s. “You’re right, Youssef. That is your real name?”
“Yes, Maria— that’s your real name?”
“Demons in our past we’d rather forget. Yours hail from Teheran, apparently.”
“I was born there. How did you know?”
She settled in the armchair, drawing her legs under her in a little girl pose, like some centerfold. If this wasn’t a demon from hell what was? All innocence, the prim little flower mouth, and eyes kind of lost and bewildered— it was an illusion. This thing was malignant.
“Dr. Youssef Ansari, creator of The Enigma, a revolutionary new kind of PET scan, the man who holds the key to the soul, so they say. I do my homework. Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me.”
“I’d like to start with a few simple questions I jotted down in regard to what I read in your notebook.” He removed the notes from his pocket. “You were very badly beaten that night?”
“You would ask.”
“Not personal details— just curious about the healing process of your body. Wounds heal fast?”
She shrugged. “Depends on how severe.”
“What was the most severe injury you’ve sustained?”
“Physically or spiritually?”
“Physically, of course.”
“Took a bullet in the shoulder. Took about a week to heal completely. Blood vessels closed off right away, but the hole was there awhile.”
“Did it hurt?”
She looked at him. “Of course. I feel pain.”
“I see.” He wrote this fact down then looked up again. “So after a severe beating you were able to regain consciousness in a very short time, but it left you struggling and in need of… uh… nourishment?”
“Blood?” She sneered. “Go on, you’re dying to ask. Who was he?”
“I’m not trying to dissect your personal experiences but I did wonder. It wasn’t Kurt?”
Cara Mia - Book One of the Immortyl Revolution Page 4