by Lynsay Sands
“Hmm,” Thomas muttered.
“Look, I know over the centuries, Lucern and I have sometimes acted like we think you’re a snot-nosed kid. But it’s just…” Bastien paused and when he spoke again Thomas could hear the frown in his voice as he tried to explain, “You’re like our younger brother, Thomas. When you were growing up you worshipped Lucern and me and wanted to do everything we were doing.”
“Well, worship is kind of an exaggeration, but I did look up to the two of you,” he admitted wryly.
“Yeah, well, we reacted like typical older brothers, being annoyed and condescending to you.”
Thomas was silent as he realized it was true. They really had treated him like a younger brother, the same way they treated Etienne.
“However, you’re well past two hundred now and I suppose we have to acknowledge that you’ve grown up some. So if you’ll try to cut out the ‘dudes’ and ‘dudettes,’ I’ll do my best to be less condescending and older brotherish.”
Thomas felt his eyebrows rise at the suggestion.
“Deal?” Bastien asked quietly.
“Deal,” Thomas echoed.
“Well, now that we have that out of the way…Since you’re going to be spending the next few days with Inez anyway, and will be right there to read her reaction, why don’t you just explain about us to her and—” He stopped when Thomas burst out laughing.
“No thanks,” Thomas said. “Nice try at dumping one of your problems on me, though.”
“I thought it was worth a shot,” Bastien conceded with a laugh.
Thomas smiled faintly at his admission, and then said, “Surely, there is someone at the company here who could take care of it?”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Bastien asked dryly. “But no one will do it. I’ve always done it and they expect me to continue to do so.”
“Nice,” he said dryly
“Yeah.” Bastien sighed. “Okay, look. Just do the best you can to keep her from finding out. Wipe her mind if she sees or overhears something she shouldn’t, and I’ll bring her over for the indoctrination right after you find Mother.”
Thomas nodded silently, and then remembered Bastien couldn’t see him and said, “Yeah sure.”
“Good. Call that techie friend and then catch some sleep while you can. But, call me back if he is able to track her phone.”
“Okay. Later.” Thomas’s gaze landed on the open binder on the table as he pressed the button to end the call. Scowling, he reached out and flipped the book closed. The music he was working on was for a comedy, and he wanted the music to be light and bouncy to reflect that. Unfortunately, it was difficult to write light, bouncy music for Vincent’s play when his mind was full of worry and concern for Marguerite. Despite his best intentions, Thomas doubted he’d get any work done until he found his aunt. Fortunately, Vincent didn’t need it right away.
Turning his attention back to his phone, Thomas opened the digital phonebook to find his techie friend’s number.
Herbert Longford was his name. An immortal who’d lived in Toronto for a while during one of his breaks from his homeland of England. Thomas had met him several years ago while delivering blood, something he occasionally did when Bastien’s couriers got behind, or one was off on vacation. The two had got talking and a friendship had formed. Herb was British, 280 years old, and even more of a computer geek than Etienne. If anyone would know if Marguerite could be tracked by her cell phone, Herb would.
Pushing the button to call his number, Thomas sank back on the love seat, mentally preparing an apology for waking the man during daytime hours when he, like most of their kind, was no doubt sleeping.
Thomas was dreaming of music when the irritating ring of the phone woke him. Despite the circumstances that had brought him to Europe it was a light and sweet refrain and was still playing through his head as he snapped his eyes open. His gaze shot to the binder on the table and Thomas automatically snatched up the pen that lay beside it as he sat up. He was already scribbling the notes on paper as he reached for the phone and flipped it open.
“Yeah?” he said absently, his attention on getting the music he’d dreamed onto paper.
“Thomas? I’m guessing by the fact that you didn’t call that Mother can’t be tracked by her cell phone,” Bastien said, sounding unhappy. “But I called just to be sure and to let you know that I’ve arranged for blood to be delivered to your room. It should arrive at sunset or shortly thereafter.”
“Sunset?” Thomas asked setting down his pen with a frown. “I won’t be here by sunset, I should think. And, yes, they can track her cell phone. I did call the penthouse to tell you that, but I got your answering machine.”
“I’ve been in my office all morning waiting to hear from you. They tracked her?” Bastien asked eagerly.
“Yes. You won’t believe where she is, though,” Thomas said with a wry laugh.
“Where is she?” Bastien asked, a frown evident in his voice.
“Amsterdam.”
“Amsterdam?” Bastien echoed with disbelief. “No. That can’t be right. Have them double check—”
“I did have it double checked, Bastien,” Thomas assured him with annoyance. “Both times it came back Amsterdam, though from two different locations in the city,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Amsterdam,” Bastien repeated, obviously not pleased with the results of the tracking. “Italy I would have believed, and anywhere in England, but Amsterdam?”
Thomas could picture Bastien shaking his head as he said the word. He spoke the name of the old city as if it were tantamount to Babylon. Rolling his eyes, he pointed out, “She and Tiny are here in Europe looking for Christian’s birth mother. Maybe the woman lives there now.”
“That’s possible, I guess,” Bastien said reluctantly. “So, you need me to arrange a flight—”
“I’ve already done that,” Thomas interrupted with exasperation. “I figured the company jet would have returned to Canada after dropping me here, so when the second tracking confirmed she was in Amsterdam, I booked myself a flight over.”
“You did?” he asked and then grumbled, “Well you should have called me, I could have arranged the flight for you.”
“Bastien, I am not helpless. I can book a flight,” Thomas said grimly. “I leave at six-fifty P.M.”
“I know you’re not helpless, but I could have booked it through the company. You’re doing this for the family. You shouldn’t have to foot the bill alone. I could have—Did you say six-fifty?” Bastien suddenly interrupted himself to ask.
“Yeah,” Thomas said with amusement. “Why?”
“Isn’t England five hours ahead of Toronto? I’m sure it’s—”
“Yes. England is five hours ahead of you guys back there in Canada,” Thomas said patiently, wondering what time it was exactly. Inez was supposed to wake him after her bath so it couldn’t be much after eight in the morning. Actually, he’d taken so long about his calls earlier that when he’d finally laid down he’d felt sure he’d barely drift off to sleep before she was waking him.
Turning slowly, he peered around the room, searching for a clock. Thomas never wore a watch. It wasn’t usually a problem, but at that moment he wished he did. He’d just spotted the clock on the mantel over the fireplace when Bastien squawked, “Then it’s four-thirty there, Thomas!”
“Yeah, I see that,” Thomas muttered, wondering why Inez hadn’t woken him after her bath. “I’d better get off the phone and get moving. It’s an hour to the airport and I have to be there an hour before the flight leaves.”
“But the blood isn’t there yet,” Bastien protested. “It isn’t to be delivered until sunset.”
Frowning, Thomas walked to the curtained windows lining one wall of the room and tugged the heavy material aside to peer out, wincing as late afternoon sunlight splashed over him. He let the drapes fall quickly back into place. “Well, it won’t be sunset for another couple hours by my guess, so unless you can arrange it to ge
t here in the next twenty minutes, I’ll just have to go without.”
“There’s no way a courier could get across town to the Dorchester within twenty minutes. Not with London traffic the way it is. And you are not going without.”
“Bastien, if you can’t get blood here before I leave, I have little choice. My flight leaves at six-fifty. I have to leave here by four-fifty if I want to get there on time,” he pointed out patiently, but wasn’t terribly happy to say so himself. He normally had three or four bags of blood a day, and there had been a full mini fridge of blood on the company jet that had brought him to England, but—distracted with his worry for Aunt Marguerite—he’d only consumed one bag. Now Thomas was feeling the hunger.
“Well…” Bastien hesitated, and then asked, “Is Inez still there?”
“Inez?” Thomas echoed with confusion, unsure what one thing had to do with the other. Turning, he walked through the suite, checking each room for the woman as he went. “No, I don’t think so. I expected her to wake me up when she got out of her bath, but that would have been hours ago.”
“I presume you didn’t tell her about the search moving to Amsterdam. She probably decided to let you sleep while she arranged for my car with the treated windows.”
Thomas grunted at this news as he crossed the dining room. The car hardly mattered now since he was headed to Amsterdam.
“It’s a shame she isn’t there,” Bastien continued. “I was going to suggest you feed from her before heading to the airport.”
“What?” Thomas gasped, coming to a halt outside the bathroom door.
“Don’t sound so shocked,” Bastien said with irritation. “You have to feed.”
“Yes, but, this is hardly an emergency situation yet,” Thomas pointed out. “The council would have my head if I—”
“You’re in England, Thomas,” Bastien reminded him. “The European council has different rules than us. A lot of the older immortals reside there. They like their traditions and dislike change. Many of them refused to even consider banning feeding off the hoof. It’s still allowed there within reason.”
“Yes, but our council—”
“Can’t penalize you for behavior that’s completely acceptable where you are,” Bastien said firmly. “And you’re going to have to feed.”
Thomas frowned with displeasure at his words. “Can’t you get blood to me in Amsterdam?”
“Yes. But that’s hours away. Thomas, I don’t like the idea of your being on a plane full of people when you’re hungry.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You only had one bag of blood on the plane.”
Thomas grimaced. “Checking up on me?”
“Never mind that,” Bastien said, sounding uncomfortable. “The point is, you only had one bag and if Inez isn’t there—”
“I wouldn’t have bitten Inez anyway,” Thomas assured him.
“Why not?” Bastien asked and Thomas frowned at the interest in his voice.
“Because she seems nice,” he answered vaguely.
“Nice? She berated the hell out of you when she got to the hotel,” Bastien said with amusement.
“Yes, but she looked cute while doing it,” Thomas muttered, and then added, “Besides I somehow don’t think that’s under her list of duties in her job description.”
“No, it isn’t,” Bastien agreed on a sigh. “And I normally wouldn’t even consider it, but Mother is missing and the longer the delay…Besides, it wouldn’t harm Inez. And it is kind of an emergency.” When Thomas didn’t say anything, Bastien sighed in defeat and said, “You’ll have to rebook a later flight.”
“No,” he protested at once. “I’ll be all right, Bastien. I can hold out until I get to Amsterdam.”
“What if you have someone afraid of flying seated beside you?” he asked. “They’ll be nervous and sweating, their smell taunting you. And what if the stewardess cuts a finger or something? Hell, what if someone in the airport itself has a bloody nose while you’re waiting to board your flight? No. It’s too risky, Thomas.”
“Bastien,” Thomas began grimly, but paused as a light popped on in the bedroom. Frowning, he took the two steps necessary to bring him to the door of the room and peered in. His eyes widened as he saw Inez seated at a small table in the dying light of the day. Obviously, she’d worked by sunlight until now, but that was dimming as the sun slid lower in the sky and she’d turned on the lamp on the table to better see what she was writing as she spoke rapidly on the hotel phone.
“What?” Bastien asked.
Inez glanced toward the door and spotted him, offering a smile as she spoke. Thomas forced a smile in return, and then spun out of the doorway and took several steps away. “She’s here.”
“Mother?” Bastien asked with sudden excitement.
“No, Inez,” Thomas explained.
“Oh…Well…Good. Feed off her. Just enough to make it through the flight without being tempted to feed off a seat mate,” he added quickly before Thomas could protest again. “And then wipe her memory and head for the airport.”
When Thomas was silent, he sighed and said, “I know you don’t want to do it, Thomas. But you know better than to surround yourself with mortals when you hunger.”
“Right.” Thomas sighed, giving in. “Okay.”
He didn’t wait to see if Bastien had more to say, but snapped the phone closed and then simply stood there, considering what he had to do. Thomas actually found himself grimacing at the idea of biting Inez. He was a vampire. He used to feed off the hoof all the time before blood banks had come into existence, but that had been a good fifty years ago. All of his meals since then had been bagged and he found himself nervous at the idea of having to bite someone now. Not the actual doing of it, but enjoying it.
Thomas very much feared he would enjoy it. Bagged blood was cold and pretty much tasteless compared to the real thing. It had none of the scent of the owner, none of the individuality, and none of the pleasure of warm, pulsing blood pouring into your mouth and body. It was rather like the difference between the much-loathed airplane food compared to a home-cooked meal.
Oh sure, his kind could go to the Night Club to get specialized drinks that still bore some of the characteristics of the donor. Diabetics had sweet blood and so on, but it was still cold and really not as flavorful as blood from the source…And it had been a long time. What if he drank too much, or had lost the technique to share the pleasure and prevent her feeling pain?
“Thomas?”
Turning abruptly, he found Inez standing in the doorway to the bedroom peering at him curiously. When her eyes widened at the sight of his expression, he suspected that his guilt was plain to see there and tried to replace it with a smile.
“I didn’t know you were still here,” he said to distract her from what he suspected was a sickly smile, and then changed it to a scowl as he added, “You were supposed to wake me after your bath.”
“Yes, I know, but I thought you were probably exhausted after your flight. Besides, we couldn’t both use the phone at the same time, so I let you sleep,” she explained. “I’ve spent the day making calls; first trying the various hotels in the city to find out if Marguerite didn’t just move to another hotel, and when that didn’t turn up anything, I started on the car rental agencies, but there’s been no luck yet.”
She frowned. “It occurred to me, though, that they might have booked under the name of the man she’s working with, but all I know him as is Tiny. I didn’t know his last name, and I didn’t think that was probably even his real first name so couldn’t ask about him.”
“Actually, his first name really is Tiny. He’s Tiny McGraw. At least I think that’s his name,” Thomas said with a frown, wondering if the Tiny was really just a nickname.
“Oh. McGraw?”
Thomas blinked the thought away and glanced to Inez as she suddenly whirled to rush back across the bedroom and out of sight. Frowning, he stepped into the doorway to see that she’d returned to the
table where she’d been working when he’d spotted her earlier. He hesitated briefly in the doorway, and then followed.
Thomas stopped a step behind Inez, his nose quivering as her scent hit him. She wore no perfume, having had none here to use after her bath. The only fragrance masking her natural scent was the faint whiff of the hotel soap and bubble bath, but it was a very faint scent after the whole day spent making calls in the hotel room. Most of what was reaching his nose was her natural scent, a sweet musky aroma that made his nose quiver.
His gaze slid over her back and up to her neck as she bent over a notepad and scribbled Tiny McGraw’s name and added a note beside it. Her hair had fallen to curtain her face, leaving him a peak of just a bit of the back and side of her neck. The skin there was smooth and unblemished, a perfect swath of skin stretched over the muscles and veins of her throat. It was the vein though that caught his interest. He could almost see it throbbing with the blood rushing through it.
When Thomas realized he was licking his lips hungrily at the sight and smells hitting him, and that the hunger in him was ramping up just at the thought of biting her, he knew Bastien had been right. He couldn’t travel in a busy airport, or sit on a crowded plane, with countless mortals and not be tempted to lure one to a quiet corner for a quick bite. It was a foolish thing even to contemplate in this day and age of security cameras and watchful eyes everywhere on the lookout for possible terrorist activities.
Inez straightened suddenly and stepped back from the table, stiffening with surprise when her back pressed into his chest.
“Oh.” Stepping away, Inez turned swiftly, eyes wide as she peered up at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize….”
Her words faded as she peered at his face. Thomas knew his expression was probably hungry, so wasn’t surprised by the sudden uncertainty that flickered on her face and the way her heartbeat sped up. It was a natural response to a predator, and he was definitely that, he acknowledged. The very fact that he was suddenly aware of her heartbeat spoke of the fact that his old predator instincts were kicking in. The extra sensitive hearing his people enjoyed was a useful skill when on the hunt, but he normally blocked out much of the sounds it brought him, or had since blood banks had come into existence.