Anna and the Vampire Prince

by Jeanne C. Stein

  “To a tourist attraction?”

  “Nearby. And when you think of it, it’s quite a smart plan. Niaux is far enough from Marseilles to be eliminated in any area search for the girls. No one would think to look so far from the abduction sites.”

  “And all the girls’ families were unaware that their daughters were missing,” I add quickly, “because the kidnappers were careful to leave text messages explaining their absences. It gave them plenty of time to get the girls out of the area.”

  Vlad nods. “Then, when the girls are killed, their bodies are taken back and dumped near Marseilles. Adding to the suspicion that immigrants are involved.”

  We travel in silence for some time. The countryside is beautiful—layered in shades of green only springtime can produce. How can such a lovely country produce such monsters? Men willing to kill, then blame it on an innocent population who wants only to achieve a better life for themselves and their families.

  I have to admit, though, it’s an old story.

  “Are you going to tell me who your snitch was?” I ask finally.

  “Snitch?”

  “Informant.”

  “Ah. No. It’s better no one knows.”

  But my instincts tell me I can figure it out. “It’s one of the kidnappers, isn’t it? Someone whose conscience finally got the better of him.”

  That elicits a snicker. “Conscience? No. Something much more appealing to one such as he. I offered a huge reward for information. Circulated the information through my underbelly—”

  “Underworld,” I correct.

  “Underworld contacts. It worked.”

  “I take it he won’t be among those we find with Cecily today,” I say wryly.

  “No. Today he is elsewhere.”

  “Lucky for him.”

  Chapter Seven

  The road winds upward now, through gently rolling, glacier-carved hills. I find myself wondering about Vlad. How easy it was for him to find out where Cecily was and how in one day, we will close down this kidnapping operation.

  But not before three girls were killed.

  “Were you serious about what you told Trish? Were you really so self-absorbed that you were unaware that three young girls had been kidnapped and murdered?”

  The look Vlad sends me is scathing. The heat of his sudden anger sends a scorching bolt through me. “Are there not murders of innocents taking place in your country every day? Do you involve yourself in them? I read the newspapers. There are serial killers at work in every state of your union. What are you doing about them?”

  Heat floods my face. He’s right. I have no right to criticize him. He’s involved now because I asked him to be. What sends a chill through me is that if I hadn’t been here to ask, what would have happened to Trish’s friend?

  Vlad reads my thoughts and his temper cools. Perhaps it has been too long since I’ve had close human connections, he says. I forgot how personal this is to you.

  Still, I should not have called you self-absorbed. It’s not something one friend says to another.

  Vlad relaxes, and his thoughts turn to how we’ll approach the cave where Cecily is being held.

  “Cave?” I repeat aloud.

  “We are going to a valley where the Niaux Cave of prehistoric paintings is located. On the other side of the valley is another cave. It’s thought that in this cave, the ancient artists who left the paintings lived with their families. This cave is harder to get to and not open to the public. It’s also sheltered so one could hide a person inside, unexposed to the elements.”

  “How will we approach it?”

  “The cave has a low ceilinged entrance that opens to a wide cavern. There is no way to approach from the front without being seen. To the back of the cavern, however, there is another entrance angled down through rock. It’s narrow, but we should have no trouble navigating it. My informant said they leave two people with the girl at all times. Once inside, between us we should have no trouble subduing two humans.”

  “I hope they put up a fight,” I mumble, fingers flexing in anticipation.

  Vlad shakes his head. “Remember, Anna, Cecily will be there. We can’t damage the humans too much. How will we explain it?”

  He’s right, at some point we’ll have to bring in the police. “Did you have a plan for turning these scumbags in?”

  “At my call, my informant will notify the local police in Niaux of strange goings-on in the cave. When they arrive, our story will be that we are spelunkers who happened upon the girl and her kidnappers. We were able to surprise them and free the girl. At that point, we are out of it, and the locals take over.”

  “So I won’t be able to take even a little blood?” I whine.

  He clucks his tongue. “Trebuie doar mâncat, Anna, nu fi un pic porc.”

  I’ve never heard him speak his native language before. I raise a questioning eyebrow. “Do I want to know what that means?”

  “You just ate, Anna,” he says, “Don’t be a petit cochon.”

  Cochon? That I understand.

  We’re scrambling up a rocky hillside. Vlad’s feet hardly touch the ground. It’s not so easy for me, but I have no trouble keeping up. We reach what looks like a chimney in the rock. Vlad signals that this is our entry point. There are two backpacks on the ground as well as a coil of rope.

  I reach down and hoist one of the backpacks. “Your informant?”

  “We need to make our story plausible.” He shrugs into the second backpack and picks up the rope.

  I peer down inside the hole. Inky darkness at first. Then vampire vision kicks in. It’s a steep drop, but the walls are narrow enough that I know I can lever myself down. I give Vlad a thumbs-up and shimmy inside.

  Silently, I chimney toward the bottom. The rocks bite into my palms. I hear voices from below—far away voices so I know they won’t see us until we want them to.

  My feet touch the floor of the cave. I step aside, and Vlad floats noiselessly down to stand beside me.

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” I whisper, rubbing bruised palms.

  We make our way toward the voices. The cave is huge, high ceilinged so we can walk upright, with a surprisingly flat floor. Here and there, we see remnants of the civilization that occupied this space. Fire pits and grooved mortars. It’s warm, not damp and cold, as one would expect.

  The voices grow louder.

  And another sound.

  Quiet sobbing.

  It makes the blood lust flare. Blood lust for the animals who would do this to a child.

  Vlad puts his hand on my arm and shakes his head. Keep it together, Anna.

  I draw a deep breath, release it slowly. He nods when he feels I’ve regained composure and starts ahead.

  The path bends before us. We sense rather than see that the men are on the other side. Vlad puts a finger to his lips. I’ll go in first. After the men. You go to the girl.

  I nod.

  Vlad moves so fast, he’s a shadow on the wall of the cave. I’m on his heels, seeking out Cecily in the dim light. She’s bound hand and foot, a torn blanket thrown over her. I gather her up, tear off the ropes binding her and strip off the dirty cloth covering her mouth. “Stay here,” I whisper.

  I turn to the sounds of a scuffle.

  But the battle—such as it was—is over. Two men lie on their backs, mouths gaping open, breath coming in shallow gasps. Vlad has taken their guns and flung them into the recesses of the cave. His eyes glow like a cat’s in the flickering light of a campfire.

  “How’s the girl?” he asks me.

  Cecily has staggered to her feet. She looks at Vlad, his vampire cat-like eyes still burning. Then she looks at me. “What are you?” she asks, fear reasserting itself. Her English is halting and broken.

  Vlad pulls out his phone. “I’ll have to make the call from outside,” he says to me. “Will you be alright?”

  I nod. I can’t do anything about my eyes, they will return to normal as soon as the vampire retreats, but
I try to modulate my voice to alleviate her fear.

  “I’m Trish’s Aunt Anna,” I say. “My friend and I have come to take you home.”

  “But your eyes—” She takes a step back. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “Oh that. I’m wearing special contact lenses. They help me see in the dark. Spelunker gear.”

  “Spelunker?” she repeats.

  I pull the backpack off. “You know, people who investigate caves.”

  “Is that how you found me?”

  She doesn’t wait for an answer. She throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you. Thank you.”

  I hug her back, grinning. “Pas de quoi!”

  When the Naiux police arrive, I let Vlad do all the talking. In French, he tells them of our “cave explorations” and how we happened upon the girl and her abductors. I hear much excited chatter among the constables. Cecily is carefully examined and questioned before a call to her mother confirms to the police that we have permission to bring her home. The kidnappers are bundled not-too-gently off to jail.

  Cecily keeps looking at Vlad and me. Our human personas are back, and I can tell she’s wondering about the “contact lenses.” She doesn’t ask, though, and I don’t mention them again.

  The mood on the drive home is far lighter than the mood on the way to Naiux. Cecily tries to keep up a conversation, but within a few minutes, her head begins to nod.

  “Stretch out,” I tell her. “We have a long drive and there’ll be a lot of excited people waiting for you at home. Sleep while you can.”

  She doesn’t argue. There is a blanket among the kids’ toys in the back. She lays herself down across the seat, pulls the blanket up around her shoulders.

  I reach behind the seat and tuck her in. Within seconds, she’s asleep.

  Poor kid, I say to Vlad. She must be exhausted.

  She has a lot to be thankful for, he comments. She owes you her life, you know.

  She owes you her life, I correct. You made the calls that solved the mystery. I was along for the ride.

  Let us just say that we make a good team.

  I let a moment pass, wondering if I should bring up the subject. Too late I realize Vlad is in my head. He slips in so unobtrusively that when he speaks, I jump.

  You want to know what I was talking about with Amélie and Alexander. It’s not a question.

  I thought it might have something to do with this, I reply, gesturing to the back seat. Now, I suspect not. Perhaps I could be of help.

  He never takes his eyes from the road, but I feel his gaze like the warmth from a fire. He has abilities far beyond those of the normal vampire—certainly beyond mine. I don’t try to intrude on his thoughts. It’s his decision, and as much as I would love to be taken into his confidence, I won’t push.

  Another long moment goes by. He heaves a sigh. It’s Steffan’s band of toadies. Back to cause trouble.

  I’m startled into silence. I can’t believe they would have dared come back. Vlad threatened them with the same fate as their leader, Steffan—immediate beheading.

  But it’s more than that. Vlad granted the six vampires clemency because of me. Because I asked it of him.

  What are they threatening? I ask, knowing Vlad is privy to all I’m thinking and feeling.

  The same as Steffan. A takeover of the mortal world. Only now they’ve recruited even more followers. And when the story breaks of how French police were behind the kidnappings, they’ll point to that as proof that mortals are base animals, unworthy to rule themselves. They’ll want to put their plan into action.

  Is it the same plan as before? To introduce vampires into all aspects of government?

  A slow but sure takeover.

  A niggling seed of guilt starts to sprout thorns. If I hadn’t asked Vlad for help, maybe the vampires wouldn’t have the kidnappings to use as a rallying cry. Maybe the police themselves would have rooted out their guilty cohorts.

  But maybe Cecily would have been killed before that happened.

  Don’t try to second guess, Vlad says, in my head again. If it hadn’t been this, it would have been something else. Humans give us plenty of reasons to condemn their actions.

  I press the palms of my hands against my eyes, weary of the way mortals and immortals are constantly at war, either with each other or themselves. Nothing I can do about that. But there’s one thing I’m sure of. I straighten and turn to Vlad. What can I do to help?

  Chapter Eight

  For once, Vlad doesn’t give me a lecture about how I have no standing here or how what’s happening is none of my business. Rather, he casts a sideways glance at me and, for a moment, I see in his eyes the uncomfortable confirmation that he acknowledges I did have something to do with the predicament he finds himself in.

  I swallow and nod. Go on.

  I am to meet with a representative of Vampires for Dominion. He again glances my way. It’s what they call themselves. I am certain at that meeting an assassination attempt on my life will be made. The meeting is to be at a time and place of my choosing. I am to come alone, as is this representative.

  You don’t trust them?

  I’d be a fool to. No matter where I pick, if a determined vampire sets out to kill me, I am most probably dead.

  Not if you have a determined vampire of your own to prevent it. I close my eyes a moment, pondering the situation. What if you meet on my father’s estate? There’s an old wine press in an isolated corner of the vineyard. It’s built of stone, small windows, only one door.

  That would certainly prevent someone from ambushing us, Vlad says. Except on the way in or out.

  I’ve thought of that, too. Excitement starts to bubble as a plan takes form. You trust Amélie and Alexander. Are there more vampires in your court?

  Yes, although few I trust as I trust Amélie and Alexander. He nods in my direction. Or you.

  Then the three of us will be your backup. When are you contacting these Vampires for Dominion?

  This evening. I’m to name the time and place.

  Set the meeting for tomorrow, midnight. Tomorrow morning, we’ll go meet with Amélie and Alexander and make a plan. In the meantime, I’ll reconnoiter the old wine press building. It’s been awhile since I’ve been out there, but I think there’s just one overgrown path that leads to it.

  You almost sound excited, Vlad comments wryly.

  I have a horse in this race, too, you know. My father and niece live here. I realize if this faction is successful, nothing may change in their lifetimes. Still, it would be a dangerous precedent to allow.

  I let my voice drop, remembering what Steffan and his followers wanted to do. Their plan was to slowly and progressively replace human politicians with vampires until vampires controlled the government. It might take a generation or two, but what is that to an immortal? Once the plan succeeded, vampires would out themselves. Humans would be relegated to a servant class whose primary functions would be to serve as a food source or work force.

  It was a good plan that would have been put into play had not Vlad found out about it. The leader, Steffan, was put to the final death—or so we thought. But he had a backup plan that involved him jumping into another body at the fatal moment. It took Vlad, Frey and me to track him down and destroy him. This time for good.

  But I encouraged Vlad to show mercy to Steffan’s six lieutenants. I never dreamed they’d return from exile—especially so soon.

  You can’t blame yourself for being merciful, Vlad says, once again knowing exactly what I’m thinking and feeling. I was caught by surprise myself.

  How does Marseilles figure in this? I ask.

  It’s where they’re hiding. In the same Banelieu as the immigrants who were to be blamed for the kidnappings. It is one of the poorest in France and the least policed. They can feed with impunity since it is a place that is considered outside the law.

  Cecily stirs in the back seat, stretches, and sits up. “How much longer?” she asks.

  Vlad holds up a ha
nd. “Five minutes.”

  She smoothes her clothes. “Anna, have you a brosse à cheveux?

  But I have nothing with me but a jacket and cell phone.

  “Look in the glove box,” Vlad says.

  I do—there’s a comb and some wet wipes. “Here,” I hand them back to her. “These will help.”

  She busies herself tidying up.

  I smile at Vlad. You are quite the Boy Scout.

  He smiles back. Ah, that reference I know. Always prepared.

  Chapter Nine

  We’d called ahead to let Cecily’s family know we would be arriving shortly. Vlad was given her address by the police in Niaux and he navigates the streets outside Lorgues with practiced efficiency.

  As soon as we pull into the driveway, the front door flies open. Cecily’s parents, a young man whom I assume to be a brother, Trish and Dad rush out to meet us. Two policemen stand back, allowing the reunion to take place without interference. I’m sure they have many questions for Cecily. Especially since her kidnappers were two of their own.

  I look at them with some suspicion. How do we know they weren’t part of the plot? I ask Vlad.

  We don’t, he replies. Only when the two we caught are returned and questioned will we know. And even then, they may refuse to name accomplices. They are most probably family men themselves and fearful of retaliation. But their plot will he revealed. I believe it’s over.

  Cecily and Trish are hugging and crying. The Gerards crowd Vlad and me, their exuberant outpouring of gratitude manifesting itself in an explosion of French I can’t keep up with.

  The meaning is clear, though, even though I don’t understand every word. I accept their thanks and quietly slip away to join Dad on the porch steps.

  He hugs me. “You did good, kid,” he says.

  Cecily’s mom begins shepherding everyone up the stairs and into the house. “Venez. Il est la nourriture et le vin à l'intérieur. Nous allons manger.”

  I glance over at Vlad. Neither of us wants to go through the charade of eating.