Blood Red Dawn

by Karen E. Taylor

  “I’d better not be,” Max said and hung up the phone.

  “Instructions to the watchdog?”

  “Watchdog?”

  “Derek. For one of mine, he is quite attentive to you.”

  He stood up. “You’ve not been available lately to give him instructions. I had to take over the mentor role with him and his loyalty transferred in the process. I assure you, though, that he is still yours. Nothing can change the bond between the creator and her creation. You should remember that, Deirdre, if you remember nothing else. It is that same bond which you and I share.”

  I shrugged. “I do not quite think of it in those terms. And I’m still not sure that I created Derek. One would think there’d be some spark of recognition.”

  “There will be.” Max gave a brief laugh as if at a private joke. “By the way, you look quite lovely. I’ve always liked you in that color and I’ve never been sure why you don’t wear it more often. It brings out the green in your eyes.” He smiled as he walked past me and over to the bar. There he poured out a glass of red wine and held it out to me.

  Immediately suspicious, I sniffed at it. It seemed like an ordinary red wine, a Merlot, I thought, or one of the blended reds. But what if he’d drugged it? What if he’d spiked it with something to ensure that I was out cold by the time Mitch arrived?

  As if sensing my thoughts, Max laughed, poured himself a glass from the same bottle and drained it. “It’s quite safe, Deirdre, I assure you. After our last battle, I’ve quit trying to give you the medication you so desperately need. I daresay that by now, your natural immunities will carry on and you’ll recuperate well enough without it, albeit a bit more slowly.”

  Max? Giving in to me? It must be a trick, I thought as I sipped my wine slowly. But I detected no trace of drug in the wine, nor did it have the bitter taste the tonic had. I took a bigger swallow. Just plain wine.

  “Why won’t you trust me, Deirdre?”

  “Let me give you a hint,” I said. “You bring me here and keep me a prisoner, you tell me lies, and why, wasn’t it just last night that you slipped a needle into my arm? Hardly seems the sort of behavior that inspires trust, does it?”

  He laid a hand on my shoulder and I shrugged him away. “It breaks my heart the way you won’t open up to me.”

  “Heart? That is a good one, Max. When have you ever had a heart?”

  He sighed. “What little you remember of me, Deirdre, is totally wrong. How can I convince you of that?”

  “You can’t. It’s that simple, Max. I remember more than is necessary to know that you can’t be trusted. Why else would you drug me, poison me, lie to me and keep me prisoner here when all I want is to be let free.”

  “This is about Mitch, isn’t it? The man you’ve built up in your mind to be the perfect husband. The perfect mate. How many times do I need to tell you? He doesn’t exist, Deirdre. I hesitate to bring him here—”

  “Because you know I’m right.”

  “No, little one.” He came over to me and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly. I did not pull away, but neither did I respond to his attentions. His touch made my skin crawl. “I hesitate to bring him here, because I fear how you may react. The truth may be too big a shock for you. You may lose what little grasp of reality you now possess.”

  “There is nothing wrong with my sanity, Max. Despite what you want me to believe, I know what I know. I am fine. Healthy and strong. Or would be if you’d just let me go.”

  He held me out at arms’ length. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth sometimes, Deirdre. I don’t know why I bother. If I didn’t love you so much, if I didn’t care what happened to you, I would just let you go. Surely you can see that?”

  I shrugged. “No, Max. All I can see is you. Standing in my way. Along with the vision of you, staked out solidly on your office door.”

  His hands on my shoulders tightened and I thought for a moment that he might hit me. Instead, he pulled me to him again and kissed me, hard and long on the lips.

  I reacted this time, pushing him away with all my strength. “Don’t you ever touch me again,” I hissed, backing away from him until I reached the door of my room. “I killed you once,” I said softly, “I can do it again. And will.”

  “Threats, Deirdre? Has it come to this?”

  “Damn straight.” The use of one of Mitch’s favorite phrases fortified me. “Do not push me too hard, Max. You might be the one to break.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, walking over to his desk and sitting back down. “After the meeting with Detective Greer, you may see things differently. Or not. Right now I’m not sure I care. You’ve got nowhere to go but here anyway. No money, no friends, no prospects. You should be damned thankful I take care of you. I doubt that sleeping in a subway tunnel with the homeless and the rats would appeal to you.”

  “The company would be better, at least.” He refused to comment, but I could tell from the tightening of his mouth that he was angry. And suddenly I was tired, too tired for this verbal sparring match. “I am going back to my room. Call me when he gets here.”

  He shook his head and busied himself with the stack of papers before him.

  Just as I started to enter my room, there was a knock on the external door. Max gave me a quick glance and nod, and got up from his desk. I pushed the door closed behind me and leaned back against it; my heart pounded, my stomach rolled and my feet seemed rooted into the ground.

  “Thank you for coming so quickly, Detective,” Max said to the man at the door, his voice pleasant and calm, all traces of anger gone. “I promise we won’t take up too much of your time.”

  “Wasn’t a problem, Hunter,” the man said. “I’m off duty and this was on my way home anyway. Now what can I do for you?”

  My view was blocked by Max, until he stepped aside to let the man in. Still leaning against the closed door, I stared at the toes of my suede boots, afraid to meet the man’s eyes. It sounded so much like the Mitch I remembered. Or thought I remembered. But surely he could see me standing here. Why didn’t he say something?

  Max moved over to me and took my arm, leading me across the room. “Come on now, Deirdre, this is Mitch. You wanted to see him, didn’t you? Don’t be rude, the man’s gone out of his way to accept my invitation.”

  All of a sudden, this whole situation seemed like a huge mistake. I dared not move or speak. Max nudged me forward a bit more. “This is Deirdre,” he said, draping an arm around my neck. “Do you remember my wife, Detective Greer?”

  I had no choice, I had to look up into his face. And my eyes met his. It was Mitch, my Mitch. Just looking at his face brought back so many memories. I could hear his laughter, feel his touch on my skin, his kiss on my lips. I remembered how we would run through the forests of Maine and over the moors of Whitby, he as the Wolf and I as the Cat. I could replay all the silly arguments we’d had and how we’d spend the next day making love as an apology and an affirmation. I remembered further back, before we were married. Chris had urged me to visit him in the hospital. I could see his haunted eyes as clearly as I saw them now.

  He extended his hand to me. “Mrs. Hunter? Yes, we met briefly a few years ago. You’ve changed your hair, haven’t you? If I remember correctly you were a redhead last time I saw you.”

  I couldn’t say a word, couldn’t take the hand he offered. It didn’t matter that I longed for the touch of that hand, that everything about him was exactly as I remembered, that I knew this was indeed Mitch Greer standing in front of me. My heart fell. All I needed to know was in his eyes. They were the same blue, they had the same intensity I remembered loving, but they were, when they looked on me, empty—completely empty and devoid of any special emotion. I could have been anyone in his eyes. Or no one. My heart stopped and I backed away from him as if he were threatening me.

  “Mrs. Hunter?” I noticed his quick panicked glance at Max, before turning his attention back to me. “Are you okay? You look pale. I know you’ve been sick,
Max told me all about it. Maybe you should sit down.”

  I shook my head in response. “No,” I said quietly, my voice betraying tears. Clapping my hand to my mouth, I continued to retreat from him, until my back was once again up against the door. I took one last look into those eyes, at once so familiar yet so very distant, dropped my head, turned swiftly, and after fumbling with the doorknob, went back into my room.

  That fumbling enabled me to hear Mitch’s subsequent comment to Max. “Is she okay? Should I go after her?”

  “No,” Max said, “she’s just had a shock. It’s for the best.”

  “Did I say something wrong?” His voice sounded distant, different somehow, but I assumed it was muffled somewhat by the closed door.

  Max’s laugh, on the other hand, sounded perfectly clear and caused a chill to run up my spine. “No, Detective, you were perfect.”

  Chapter 18

  To my great surprise, Max was smart enough to leave me alone for the rest of the night. There were no knocks on the door, no attempts to enter my room and offer comfort, or, what would have been worse, to gloat over his seeming triumph. Had he entered, had he even spoken one word through the keyhole, I would have killed him. And I knew with certainty it wouldn’t be the first time. Although the man I saw was not the Mitchell Greer of my memories, just his presence in Max’s office, his face, even his voice triggered a flood of memories. I had killed Max, there was no doubt in my mind about that. I’d staked him through the heart and left him hanging on his office door like a scarecrow. For all the good it had done me. Eduard DeRouchard had made it possible for him to live again.

  I deliberately turned my mind away from Mitch. It was unthinkable that he may never have existed the way I remembered him. Unthinkable that Max could be right all along. How could this have happened? How could I have been so wrong?

  And yet, my heart ached with the loss. So much of my life had been tied up in his, along with my hopes for the future and my desperateness for release from this impossible impasse with Max. With the destruction of those hopes, I plunged as deep into despair as I believed I’d ever been. Rock bottom. The worst part of it was that the pain wedged itself tightly into every inch of my body and there was no release. The pain would never leave, I knew. And for the first time in my life, I could not cry.

  Instead I sat on the edge of the bed for what must have been hours, arms wrapped tightly around myself, rocking slightly, hearing no sound but that of my ragged breathing. As that began to steady, as my pulse began to calm, my mind began to formulate a plan.

  Although it was true that I remembered very little of my life before Mitch had walked into it, I knew somehow that I’d done fine on my own. Independent and alone, I’d lived for decades. And I would again. Even if it appeared Max had been telling me the truth all along, I did not have to accept the life he offered. And if Mitch had been nothing but a fevered dream, a delusion, then so be it. It was time, way past time, to wake up and take control.

  First order of business was to get the hell out of the Ballroom of Romance and away from Max. I glanced at the clock and did some calculations. The sun would rise in about four hours; plenty of time for me to get away and find shelter. Max may have thought I was too fastidious to spend a night in the subway, but he severely miscalculated my desire to escape. Besides, I realized as I looked around the room deciding what I should bring with me, I did know someone in this city. Or at least someone knew me. From underneath my mattress, I pulled the slip of paper with the phone number Terri Hamilton had given me along with the cassette tape I’d found in my jeans pocket and slid them into the large tote bag. Those, plus a change of underwear, a comb, and my makeup were all that I cared to take. I didn’t want to be hindered by luggage. This was an escape, not a vacation. The clothes Max had bought me could remain; I didn’t want to wear them anyway.

  The only other thing I needed to consider was the issue of getting past Max. It wasn’t that I couldn’t fight my way out of here. I may have been sick, but I suspected I was still more than a match for him. He was, after all, a human now. One with an indefinitely prolonged life, but he’d not yet demonstrated any of the powers that Eduard DeRouchard had. Like vampiric powers, Others’ powers must have had to be acquired over time.

  What I wanted was to be able to leave without Max even knowing I was gone. And what I needed was a disguise, a way to walk through the crowded club without being recognized by Derek or any of the other watchdogs I felt sure Max had in place.

  Since I woke up in this place, I had been watching the vampire videos stored in my little room, hoping for a scene or a bit of dialogue that might trigger a memory. The vampires in these films had powers of many sorts, some of which rang true to me. True, I had memories of transforming into a wildcat, yet that vision had been part of my memories of Mitch and couldn’t be true. Could it? In any event, transformation into an animal form would do nothing but call attention to me. But what if I could just manage to alter my features a bit? I could become someone else for a short period of time, that would serve my purpose, as long as Max wasn’t in his office when I emerged.

  “It can’t hurt to try,” I said to my reflection when I opened the armoire doors. “It has to be easier than turning into a wolf or a cat. So who shall we try to be?” No one in particular, I thought, so as to be anonymous. “Let’s start with the hair. I hate what it looks like anyway.” Closing my eyes, I concentrated on my hair, envisioning it as a mousy brown, about chin length. Feeling a tingling in my scalp, I began to resculpt my face, shortening my nose, thinning my lips, imagining wider set brown eyes and lower cheek bones. When the picture was complete in my mind, I opened my eyes and a stranger dressed in my clothes stared back at me.

  The clothes, I decided, would have to go, too. I wanted nothing to clue Max into who this person really was. I opted for changing into the jeans and flannel shirt I’d found and when I was done changing, I appraised the results. I untucked the shirt and concentrated on bulking up the flesh around my waist. The jeans grew tighter and I looked slightly pudgy.

  I had done it. No one, anywhere, would recognize this person as Deirdre Greer. The whole process, though, was more difficult than I’d expected. My face and scalp ached with the transformation. And my new features would blur if my concentration wavered. I held the vision of my new self and walked slowly over to the door to Max’s office, pressing my ear up against the wood and listening for sounds of movement.

  From without, there came the faint sound of shuffling papers and the outer door opening.

  “Max,” Derek said, “there’s someone at the front door asking for you.”

  “Handle it for me,” Max growled. “I don’t want to leave this room.”

  “I can’t.” Derek’s voice sounded apologetic and frightened. “You really need to talk to this person.”

  “Goddamn it, Derek. What do I pay you for anyway?” I heard the creaking of Max’s desk chair as he rose. “Fine, I’ll deal with this. You stay here and watch.”

  “Watch for what?”

  “Her. I don’t want her leaving this place.”

  Derek gave a nasty laugh that made the hair on my neck stand on end. “I don’t know, Max. I’d think that after the performance she got from Mitchell Greer, she’ll be holed up in there crying her eyes out.”

  “Is that what you think?” Max’s scornful tone came through loud and clear. “Quite the cocky bastard, aren’t you? But I’m afraid you don’t know her very well. I’d wager a bet that she’s planning something right now. So regardless of what you think, you will still stay here and keep watch. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  The door opened again and closed with a slam. I heard Derek walking restlessly through the room, muttering to himself, then heard his footsteps move toward the bar.

  I needed to make my move now. I stood a better chance of getting past Derek. Max knew me too well, knew me better, it turned out, than I did. Hearing the sound of clinking glasses, I slowly cracked the door open and wa
tched Derek pour himself a glass of wine. Then he settled in on the black leather couch which fortunately faced away from the door. I slid out and closed it softly behind me. He seemed tired as he sat there, sipping his wine, with his breathing accelerated, as if he had just run a marathon. While I watched he gave a huge yawn and tilted his head onto the back of the sofa. His breath came slower now, steadier, and his eyes closed.

  It’s now or never, I thought, knowing that Max would not stay away for long. Moving softly, I crossed the room and opened the outer door wide, turning back to face him. “Oh,” I said, forcing a slight nasal twang into my voice, “I’m sorry; I’m looking for the little girl’s room.”

  Derek turned and looked at me without giving me a second glance. “Three doors down on the left,” he said and moved back around in his seat.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled again and went out into the hall. Max, I knew, was at the front door talking with his visitor. But I also knew that there was a side exit to the club, one that had not been connected to an alarm, at least not during my time spent here. I had to take the chance, and quickly, before Max returned and saw me here. Somehow I felt that my disguise would not fool him one bit.

  I moved down the dark hallway, clutching my tote bag, opened the first exit door I found, and ended up on the side street outside.

  Free! I relaxed slightly, feeling the tension ease out of my shoulders and back. I started walking, slowly so as to hold my new features, and when I arrived at the corner, I turned left. Behind me I could hear the murmur of the crowd waiting for entrance to the Ballroom. Not daring to look back, I kept walking and didn’t stop until I’d put four blocks between me and Max. Maintaining the transformation sapped my strength and I felt myself begin to sweat in the frigid night air.

  My original plan had been to ransack Max’s desk for available cash. I needed money, if only for the phone call from Terri Hamilton. After that, I wasn’t quite sure what would happen. Terri would either take me in and use me to further her plot for revenge against Max, or I’d find a convenient subway tunnel in which to spend the day. Both of these options were preferable to staying one extra minute in Max’s presence.