by Unknown
The autopsy report on Lucy’s body stated the cause of death as massive blood loss from two wounds in the carotid artery, made by a weapon similar to an ice pick. Toxicology had found traces of Rohypnol, the “date rape” drug, in her system. Time of death was estimated to have been between nine P.M. and midnight on Tuesday. I wondered whether the police were still looking for Les.
The feeling I had then would have been giddy relief if I hadn’t been reading about a dead colleague, but I was still relieved. Lucy had been drugged with Rohypnol. As I could attest, Eric didn’t ply anyone with drugs. He didn’t need to, since his own scent was a drug to humans. Lucy’s murder had been staged to look like a vampire’s handiwork, or more accurately, a fake vampire’s handiwork. So now Eric was exonerated, at least in my mind, of both murders.
I went back to the bedroom and rooted around in Steve’s closet for a hat. He had a shelf of brand new baseball caps, acquired while squiring clients to Giants games. I took one, found my sunglasses in my purse, and headed downstairs to the garden. I handed Steve the newspaper, folded over to the Lucy article. He sat down on his weeding cushion and began reading.
I couldn’t wait for him to finish. “Eric didn’t kill Lucy!” I shouted.
Steve looked up. “The article says that?”
“No, but it says that Lucy was…” I stopped myself. Unless I was going to tell a long and unbelievable story I’d better keep my mouth shut.
Steve sighed. “I wish you felt you could trust me, Angie.”
Instantly I was filled with remorse. “Oh, Steve, of course I trust you.”
His baleful expression told me he didn’t believe me, and why should he?
He looked back down at the newspaper. “So he didn’t kill Lucy. But what about Kimberley?”
“Oh, no, he definitely didn’t kill her.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you how you know that. So your vampire boyfriend is as harmless as a kitten, huh? No wonder you’re happy.”
Was Eric harmless? I paused to think that through. He may not have killed Lucy or Kimberley, but that didn’t change what Nicolai had been telling me: “If you die in the conversion you’re out of luck…” Eric could still kill me in the conversion process, if he decided to continue it. And then there was the person who had killed Lucy and Kimberley, and attempted to kill me. That person was still at large.
“I’m not happy,” I answered, and by then it was true.
Steve got back on his knees and pulled some yellow flowers out of the ground.
“How can you do that at a time like this?” I asked.
“It calms the mind. You should try it. Actually, never mind. You don’t know an oxalis from a delphinium.”
“Steve, did you try calling Bangkok yesterday?”
He moved his knee cushion farther down the flowerbed. He was wearing a leather gardening belt, the slots filled with pruning shears, weed diggers, a ball of twine, and other tools. Steve was nothing if not prepared.
“Yes, they know Barry Warner over there, that’s a fact.”
“Really?” I leaned forward eagerly. Maybe the theory that I’d been formulating about Tangento might turn out to be true.
“But I didn’t get anything. The woman who answered said, ‘You not Barry!’ and hung up. I guess my accent wasn’t convincing.”
I picked a flower and put it to my nose. I used to think fresh flowers were the prettiest scent in the world, but now I knew better. “Steve, there’s something I need to tell you. The man who attacked me, he took the Tangento file, with all my information in it.”
Steve stopped weeding, his trowel in midair. “Huh? Did you tell the police?”
“No, not yet.”
“Why not?” he asked.
I couldn’t tell him it was because I had a vampire-killing knife in the bag that was also stolen, so I just shrugged.
“I have a theory,” I said.
“Go ahead.”
“I think last night’s attack was about Tangento. Kimberley must have been using information about Tangento to blackmail Barry Warner. And then I got a hold of the same information. Someone was trying to shut us both up.”
“And what about Lucy?” asked Steve. “Did she know about Tangento too?”
“I don’t know, that’s what we need to find out. We need to know what Lucy knew.”
“And who sent you those envelopes,” Steve added. He sighed heavily and stood up, brushing off his knees. “I guess it’s time to get to work.”
At the front entrance of HFB Steve and I almost collided with a skinny delivery boy hidden behind a basket of extremely tall flowers. When we followed him into the lobby he announced to the front desk receptionist, “I have a delivery for Angela McCaffrey.”
The receptionist was new and didn’t know me on sight. She was flipping through the directory when I answered, “I’m Angie McCaffrey.”
The boy looked relieved to relinquish his burden. I signed for the flowers, then peered around them to find my way to the elevator. The flowers had a strong, sweet yet somehow depressing smell. I remembered my grandmother’s funeral, six months before, in St. Philip’s Cathedral. It had been a cold day and the old radiators had heated the chapel like a sauna, cooking the flowers and making the smell almost unbearable. That had been my first experience of death. Now I could write a book on the subject.
When I put the bouquet down on my desk I found an envelope tucked into the blossoms. It was heavy ivory card stock with nothing written on it. Inside I felt something small, with sharp edges. I ripped open the envelope and a necklace fell into my hand: a red stone carved in the shape of a teardrop, placed at its narrow end into a delicate gold setting studded with tiny diamonds. I’m no connoisseur, but I’d been to enough vintage clothing and jewelry shows to know this was Victorian.
I touched the stone. It really was beautiful. About an inch long, it had such clarity I could see the table right through it. But a red teardrop? What was the meaning of that? I checked the envelope again and found a card inside it.
My dear Angela,
You are astute, so I imagine you’re wondering why I would choose a symbol of sadness as a gift. It represents my regret at having to withdraw from your life. However, I know what happened at your apartment last night. How sorry I am I cannot begin to tell you.
How I wish that you had been able to accomplish your task when you came to the House of Usher, wielding that ancient blade. But since I am still alive, if I can call this existence living, I must leave this place. I implore you not to try to find me, simply trust that I know what I am doing, and that the difficulties you have been experiencing will begin to dissipate as soon as I am safely at a distance.
Even from afar, I remain,
Your humble servant, Cyprien
Eric knew about the attack on Kimberley and me, and he blamed himself. He knew who Barry Warner was. In fact, it seemed he had known everything about Tangento before I knew it. As I looked into the red stone I suddenly saw everything with a clarity that I’d never had before. The threads of information I’d been gathering, that I’d thought had been separate, braided together into one cohesive story. Eric had sent me the information about Tangento’s misdeeds; he had wanted me to do something about it. Perhaps he had given the information to Lucy first, but whoever wanted to keep the information secret had silenced her permanently, just as they’d silenced Kimberley and tried to silence me.
Eric had put me in mortal danger—and not from his own vampiric nature, but from someone pretending to be what Eric was. The only solution he saw was to leave and hopefully take the murderer with him. I understood why he was doing it but the thought of never seeing Eric again was unbearable. If I let him go now he would leave the city, change his name, and disappear as completely as if he’d never existed.
A half-hour later I was charging into the walnut-paneled lobby of Harbinger, International.
“May I help you?” The same receptionist smiled helpfully, with no recognition on her
face.
“Yes, I need to go to Eric Taylor’s office.”
“I’m very sorry, but he’s not in at the moment.”
This time around, the lies tripped easily off my tongue. “I know that, but we met here last night, and I left some papers. I’ll just go and get them.”
“I’m sorry, that won’t be possible,” the receptionist replied.
I had seen a few of my clients get everything they wanted by being pushy as hell. I thought now was the time to give it a try.
“I need those papers right now!” My voice was loud. “And when I tell Mr. Taylor how rude you’ve been to his best client, you’ll never work in this town again!”
I marched down one of the hallways, fervently hoping that it was the correct one. The receptionist trailed after me.
“Oh no, I’m sorry, you can’t come in here, it’s not allowed, if you’ll just…”
On the right there were three cubicles containing people talking on telephones. On the left there were two offices, one of which was on the corner. I bet on that one, and without pausing, swept in.
The corner office had windows on two sides, overlooking the Financial District and the Bay Bridge. A huge mahogany JFK-style desk faced the window. It looked like the occupant was in the process of moving out. Packing boxes half filled with books and papers were scattered around the room. I imagined Steve’s voice saying, “Nice work, Nancy Drew, what’s your next move?”
“Is Mr. Taylor moving?” I asked.
The secretary was touching my sleeve. “I’m not at liberty to say anything about that. Really, Ms. uh, I’m afraid I must ask you to leave now.”
I cast one last, desperate look around the room, but there was nothing there to help me.
At midnight I snuck out of Steve’s bed, leaving him snoring under his pillow. I went into the living room and sat on the couch, facing his tiny statue of David, holding the red stone necklace in my hand. Not knowing exactly what I was doing, but following an instinct, I closed my eyes and focused all my energy on Eric. He was somewhere in the city, and we were linked—psychically, physically, and emotionally. Somehow I would find him.
I pictured him at the House of Usher in sapphire blue velvet, eyes sparkling with amusement at my attempts to spar with him; his hand at the small of my back, guiding me in a perfect waltz. I felt him wrap me in a blanket on a cold night in Half Moon Bay and tell me I was beautiful. I saw the sadness in his eyes as he told me of his betrayal by the monk; and the pure delight on his face upon discovering the Balclutha, a ship he thought existed only in his memories…
I grabbed my car keys and headed for the door. “Just stay put, now,” I muttered.
Chapter 24
I parked the car in a no parking zone in front of the Maritime Museum, a beautiful Art Deco building in the shape of a ship. Between it and the water was a small beach, which I crossed on my way to the pier. There was a gate across the entrance, with a lone security guard in a kiosk staring at a tiny television set. Keeping to the shadows, I slipped around the gate and walked as quickly as possible down the pier while trying to keep my footsteps light on the old wood.
The Balclutha loomed in the darkness, its towering masts outlined against a gauzy purple sky. I stopped in front of the empty bench, filled with disappointment. Somehow I’d thought he would just be there, sitting on the bench, as easy to find as the ship itself. I squinted up at her as she rocked gently in her berth, trying to marshal my new powers of vision to locate a shadowy figure lurking on the deck, remembering a trip around Cape Horn that was lost now to any human memory.
As I stared at the creaking hulk, thinking I’d never realized before that there are so many different shades of black, I felt him at my side. The awareness of his presence was followed by his scent. Its sweet, haunting fragrance overwhelmed the odors of saltwater and tar that blew in on the breeze. I didn’t turn, not wanting to see anger or rejection on his face. If I stayed just like that I could imagine that at any moment he would take me in his arms and tell me he felt the same as I did, that he couldn’t bear to be without me.
Then I heard his voice, soft in my ear. “I told you not to look for me, but I see you didn’t listen.”
I spun around to face him, ready to leap to my own defense, but stopped when I saw him. Eric had changed. His long copper hair was cut short, stopping just above the collar of the dark, button-down shirt that he wore, topped with a heavy overcoat. His face was tired, and lines had appeared that I’d never seen before. Even his eyes looked darker, azure instead of cerulean, the color of a cold Northern sea, forbidding and opaque.
“I shouldn’t have gone to Nicolai, I shouldn’t have taken the knife. I could have prevented Kimberley’s death, I could have done so many things if I’d just trusted you, but I was a coward. I was afraid of what might happen to me. But then I realized I didn’t care what happened, as long as I could be with you. I’m ready now, Eric.”
He was silent, staring out at the ship, his hands in his pockets. He seemed to have forgotten I was there. Finally I reached for his arm.
“Eric, did you hear what I said?”
He shrank from my touch. “Angela, I am the cause of your troubles, not the solution. Please, let me go. Tell me you’ll never try to find me again.”
“No, that’s not going to work. We’re connected now, whether you like it or not.”
Eric looked at me then, searching my eyes. Finally he sighed, and a slight smile lifted his lips. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“Why did you send me that information about Tangento?” I asked.
He took my hand and we walked down the pier. Eric showed no concern for the security guard, but why should he? If the guard caught him he would be the unfortunate one, not Eric.
“I’ve told you that in my human life I was religious. I believed in good and evil, that virtue would be rewarded and evil punished in the afterlife. I’ve since learned that this is not the case. The afterlife is a convenient myth for those who think life is too short. In this world goodness goes unrewarded and evil exists unchecked. My very existence is proof of this.”
There was no sound except the slap of waves against the pier. The vibrant city was dark and silent. “As I have lived these many years among humans, granted with the dubious gift of reading their minds, I found evil lurking unchecked to an extent that surprised even me. At first I despaired, but eventually I realized that perhaps my maker, whomever that might be, had not forsaken me entirely. Perhaps there was a reason for my existence, some great cosmic scale to balance out.”
A spark lit up his eyes, lightening his dark countenance. “I was able to dedicate my life to a cause, and to live within certain parameters. This made it all somehow more bearable.”
“What cause? What parameters?”
“These are the parameters.” He held up his pointer finger. “One: I will only feed on those people who have evil in their hearts.” He added his middle finger. “Two: I will stop acts of evil whenever possible, wherever I find them.” He lifted his ring finger. “And Three: When One and Two are no longer possible I will kill myself.”
“So that balances everything out?” I asked.
Eric shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But I already told you I’m too cowardly to just kill myself.”
“So where did I fit into this plan?”
Eric looked uncomfortable. “Sometimes I find the need for a human accomplice.”
“So you were trying to make me into a vampire, like Nicolai said, so I could be your accomplice?” It was a struggle not to burst into tears in front of him. The thought that he was using me as some part of an elaborate plot, rather than wanting me as his companion for life, was like a knife to the heart. And I knew now, literally, what that felt like.
“No, I was not trying to convert you, although I’d be lying if I said the thought never crossed my mind, especially after I realized how special you are. But I was trying to use you, my dear Angela.”
“What does that mean?�
�� I was amazed that he had found something even more painful to say.
“In order to avoid arousing suspicion myself, another trick I have learned over the years is that by injecting just enough venom into certain humans, I can insinuate myself into their thoughts, then guide their actions toward my intended goal.”
I felt sick. “You were trying to control my mind?”
“In the beginning, yes. In fact, Lucy was my first accomplice. That is why you saw the image of Lucy and me on the couch in her apartment. Lucy was involved with the coven, which made it easy for me to approach her. They were an ideal cover for me.”
I rubbed my hands together. It was getting very cold out here. “You don’t seem very upset about her death,” I said. “More like you lost your best hammer.”
“I deeply regret what happened, but please don’t expect me to become emotional over the death of one individual. Death is like breathing to me. It’s always there.”
“So Lucy died, and you took me as second choice?”
“Not exactly. I had already decided Lucy was not suitable, because she, ah, she…”
I said it for him. “She fell in love with you. She broke up with Les over you. She told Les she was going to be with you forever.”
“Yes. At the time she died I was trying to extricate myself from her. I had Moravia tell her not to come to the club anymore.”
“And you also had Moravia and Suleiman invite Kimberley and me to the club?”
“Yes, I wanted to look for some other potentials. But then once again things didn’t work out as I had planned.”
“I wasn’t what you were hoping for?”
He brushed some hair off my cheek, causing the tingle that happened every time he touched me. “You were more than I was hoping for, Angela. I’ve never told a human being any of this. You are the first.”
He slid his hand down my arm and into his pocket, then took a step back.
“That is why I had to break away from you. I decided to let go of the ‘project’ I had in mind, and you with it, because I realized that these women had died because of their involvement.”