Eternal Hunger

by Cameron Dean

  Without warning, almost as if he was changing tactics, Sloane’s gaze shifted to me, his expression flat and predatory. He has a shark’s eyes, too, I thought. But I could see, suddenly, that Sloane was a follower, not a leader.

  “This must be the lovely Ms. Steele,” Sloane said at last. “I’m so pleased to officially meet you at last.”

  You clever son of a bitch, I thought. The fact that we’d never been officially introduced didn’t mean we hadn’t met before. My belief that the attack on me had been random was growing slimmer with every second I spent in Sloane’s company.

  “Likewise,” I said aloud.

  “A pity about the scarab,” Sloane went on, his gaze on Ash once more. “Particularly since that wealthy idiot has no idea what it is he’s just acquired. How does it feel to lose, Ash?”

  “Do you plan to stay in Vegas long, Mr. Sloane?” I asked before Ash could respond.

  I felt a subtle current of energy move through Ash then. Whether it was approval or disapproval, I couldn’t quite tell.

  “Sloane,” the other vampire said. “Just Sloane. And to answer your question, Ms. Steele, I’ll be in Vegas for as long as it takes.”

  “You mean, to get the job done,” Ash said.

  Something flashed in Sloane’s eyes, and suddenly I remembered what it had been like to lie in the rain-drenched street with my life’s blood running down his throat. There’d been no finesse in that attack, just sheer brute force. He enjoys what he is, I thought. The power and the pain of it.

  “That is what I mean, of course. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll see what other entertainment I can find. What’s that delightful cliché? Oh, yes, the night is young.”

  And unless I missed my guess, there would be another body in the city morgue before the night was done. With a final smile, Sloane moved off. I watched him pluck a glass of champagne from a nearby server and murmur something to her that made her blush. All of a sudden, I’d had more than enough.

  “Do we have to stay?” I asked Ash.

  “No, we don’t,” Ash said. “Let me take you home.”

  “Ash,” I said quietly as he piloted the car through the neon Vegas night. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  I had waited until we were more than halfway home before I spoke; until the car was so filled with a thick, brooding tension I couldn’t stand it any longer. The most disturbing thing about it was my sense that Ash, always so guarded, always so careful, had no idea he was even sending it out. On the bright side, he now trusted me so completely he knew he didn’t need to shield his feelings from me. On the less than bright side, whatever was wrong, whatever was coming, was so bad that Ash couldn’t completely control his dread.

  “I can’t tell you,” he finally responded.

  In spite of myself, I bit back a laugh. “You think this is funny?”

  “Of course I don’t think it’s funny,” I said. “But you’re not exactly giving me much room to maneuver. I can’t help if you won’t let me in.”

  “It’s complicated,” he said. “I seem to remember you saying that.”

  “About a situation you know virtually everything about already,” I came back. “Look, I know we hardly have a no-secrets arrangement, but I’ve already had one less-than-delightful encounter with your friend Sloane. If he’s a threat to me, or to you, don’t you think I have the right to know? How the hell else am I supposed to protect myself, Ash?”

  “He’s not my friend,” Ash said quickly. “And I don’t want you to have to protect yourself. That’s part of the problem.”

  “Nice wish, but I’d say it’s just a little late.” I turned my head to study his profile in the ambient glow of the lights.

  “Ash, how did he know my name?”

  Ash kept his eyes on the road ahead of us, the scattered lights of homes breaking the vast darkness of the desert.

  “Okay,” I said, unwilling to let him get away with silence. “There are a few possibilities. Someone at the auction told him my name.”

  “No,” Ash said, his voice flat.

  I felt fear grip my gut then at the only conclusion: Sloane had known about me for some time. “Then his attack on me wasn’t random?”

  “No,” Ash said again.

  “And,” I hazarded a guess, “the reason I was his target has something to do with you.”

  “Yes.”

  I thought back to their cryptic conversation. “So what is it that he’s been asked to see to personally? What did you mean when you said he was good at doing what’s he told?”

  “Just that,” Ash replied.

  “No, not just that. Who’s giving him his orders? And what the hell is this all about?”

  Ash stopped for a red light and turned to face me, his eyes hard and cold. “Sloane is here on behalf of others—other vampires. That is what makes him so dangerous. That is why I can’t tell you anything more. So please, Candace, change the damn subject.” The light turned green, and he started driving again.

  “Should we talk about the weather?” I asked in sugary tones.

  Without warning, Ash lifted one hand, brought it down, hard, open-palmed against the steering wheel. “Oh, fuck me,” he said. He took the same hand, ran it through his hair in a gesture of sheer unadulterated frustration.

  “Okay, but you’re going to have to pull over,” I said.

  His head whipped in my direction, silver eyes shining. For several seconds, nothing happened. Then I heard him give a strangled laugh.

  I couldn’t let it go. “One more question. Is this about the Board?”

  I waited for Ash to explode as he did the last time I asked him about the Board. I was fishing then and fishing now. I know nothing about the Board. I had only surmised that the Board was a secret organization of powerful vampires.

  He didn’t explode. His voice was quiet, sad.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  “Oh, for crying out loud,” I began. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to do that.”

  “Do you?”

  “How many times do I have to say it? Yes.”

  “Then give me more time,” Ash said. “I’m not keeping you in the dark because I don’t trust you. I’m trying—I want—” He gave his head a shake, as if to shake loose the words he wanted.

  “It’s dirty, Candace,” he finally said. “It’s ugly and vicious and I want to keep you out of it if I can. I don’t want us to start whatever we can have together with this hanging over our heads. But until I can figure out a way to stop it, it’s better if I don’t explain.”

  “I don’t like being kept in the dark,” I said.

  “I know,” Ash said quickly. “I know that. In your position, I’d no doubt feel the same. I wouldn’t ask it of you now without a good reason. But I am. Please, Candace, if you love me, let me handle this in my own way.”

  “Low blow. You know damn well there’s no if about it,” I said. “How come guys always have to fight dirty in order to win?”

  “Experience,” Ash said. He slowed the car to take a corner. “For the record, we can do other things.”

  I leaned back against the headrest. There was really no question about what my answer would be. I would give Ash what he asked. Not because he had boxed me in, but because I thought I knew how much he hadn’t wanted to. I turned toward him, slid a hand across his leg toward the notch of his thighs.

  “Why don’t you tell me all about that?”

  I awoke, rearing up in bed like a swimmer breaking the surface of choppy water, desperate to escape drowning. My ears rang with a strange and sudden rush of sound. My tongue was thick and hot, the taste in my mouth salty, coppery. As always in the nighttime hours, the room I shared with Ash was pitch-black, but red spots danced in the air before my eyes. Bright red. Bloodred.

  Blood, I thought. That’s what the taste was. The sound of rushing in my ears. Blood. All blood. And as if the naming of it had released its hidden power, it seemed to me that I could feel it coursing thro
ugh my veins. Nourishing me, making my vampire senses sharper. Without warning, my body spasmed once again, every sensation unbearably heightened. My hands clutched the sheets, just as they did in passion, my body bowed upward. Balanced on the edge of a knife, the split second before fulfillment overtakes desire. And then my vision went a high and blinding white as my whole body rode a wave of surging power. I was more than strong. I was invincible. No force on earth could stop me.

  “Ash,” I gasped out, though I knew now that he was not beside me. He was out, in what remained of the night. Protecting me, protecting us, with the most elemental means at his disposal. By continuing his own existence. By taking living blood.

  I felt my body relax then, as the first wave of feeling passed, though my senses continued to hum. I reached out my hand, placed it in the center of the pillow where Ash’s head usually lay.

  Oh, Ash, I thought.

  He was somewhere in the night, doing what needed to be done. And I would do no less. I closed my eyes and waited for the rising of the sun.

  “Thanks for making time to see me, Al,” I said as I slid into the booth at the coffee shop the next morning. Across the table from me, my boss at the Scheherazade gave a grunt. Al Manelli is not what one would call a morning person. It’s one of the things we’ve always had in common.

  “I ordered you some coffee,” he said by way of greeting.

  “Thanks,” I said. Al took a sip of his own, eyes gazing at me over the rim of his mug. He might look and sound like he wanted to be home in bed. Most likely, he did. But his eyes were clear and sharp.

  “So, Nerves,” he said, using his favorite nickname for me as he set the mug down. Nerves for Nerves of Steel. The e on the end is optional. “What’s up that couldn’t wait until tonight?”

  Tonight was the night I was supposed to report back to work at the Sher, but under the present circumstances, my returning to my regular evening rotation was not going to be in anyone’s best interests. The question was, how to break this news to Al without going into detail about what was going on.

  “That’s what I want to talk about,” I said. Al gave a second grunt. I took a sip of coffee, to buy myself an instant’s more time. Seeing Al in person was proving more difficult than I had thought.

  What would Al do, how would he feel, if he knew I had become a vampire?

  “Al,” I finally said, “I can’t come back tonight. I’ve had some things come up—personal things. I need to handle them before I go back into the rotation. I know this is short notice, and I’m sorry.”

  There, I’d done it. Al was silent, studying me from across the table. Finally he spoke. “How much more time?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing,” he said at once, his own voice testy. He took a sip of coffee, as if it would help him swallow down his temper. “What’s this about, Candace? You in some kind of trouble?”

  “Not really,” I said. “No.”

  He gave a bark of unamused laughter. “That’s not saying very much.”

  “There isn’t a whole lot to say,” I answered honestly. All of a sudden, I reached across the table to capture one of Al’s hands. They were warm. Not just from the coffee cup, but because he was a living, breathing human being.

  “Please, Al,” I said. “I can’t explain, but I really need you to trust me. Just give me some more time and I’ll never ask for anything else, I swear to God.”

  “Okay, that’s it,” Al Manelli announced, even as his fingers curled around mine. “Now I know you’re in trouble.” He moved his other hand to cover mine. “What the hell is the matter with you, Steele? Your hands are as cold as ice.”

  “Yes or no, Al?”

  He blew out an exasperated breath and released my hand. “Yes,” he said. “And you damn well know it. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. How the hell can I watch your back if I don’t know where you are?”

  “I don’t need you to watch my back,” I said. “Whatever I have to do, it has to be alone. I really appreciate this, Al.”

  Al took another sip of coffee. “What do you want me to tell Randolph? He may not be the president of your fan club, but if you drop out of sight, he’s bound to notice. And Bibi’s going to want to know what’s going on.”

  “Bibi is personal. You can leave her to me,” I said. “As for Randolph, tell him I asked for some personal leave. I don’t think he’ll be surprised.”

  Al’s eyebrows practically sailed right off his face, they rose so high. “This has something to do with Randolph?”

  “It has to do with me, Al. But I ran into Randolph at some fancy auction last night. He thinks I’m screwing some high roller. If I suddenly ask for some time away, he may not be all that surprised.”

  “And are you?”

  “None of your beeswax,” I said, and won a reluctant smile. All of a sudden, I realized I was swallowing a lump in my throat. Al was one of the most important people in my new life in Vegas. I would miss seeing him, not just because he was my boss, but because he was my friend, my ally.

  “You’ll let me know when you’re ready to come back?” he asked.

  “I will,” I promised.

  “Then I’ll square it away on the casino’s end,” Al replied. “And if there’s anything else I can do, you let me know.”

  “I will,” I said again, though I knew it was a lie. “This is more than enough. Thank you, Al.” I began to slide from the booth. “I’d better go now. Anyone asks, tell them I snagged a rich millionaire and he’s requested I stay off my feet for a while.”

  Al gave a snort. “I might just do that,” he said. “You stay safe now, Nerves.”

  “That’s the plan. Thanks again, Al. I won’t forget this.”

  I stood then walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.

  The meeting with Al over, I had one more important errand. I drove to my house. My house was more than simply where I ate, slept, did the laundry. It was the nerve center in my crusade against vampires.

  I opened the door to the house then paused to let the world steady as it circled and spun. Take it easy, Candace, I thought. Don’t push yourself. Remember what happened last time. Aside from the obvious need to conserve my energy during daylight hours, there was no need for me to rush. I checked my watch, figuring I had about ten minutes before the person I had asked to meet me here showed up. Time enough to do what needed to be done.

  I moved through my house, making my way toward the secret room I had constructed with my own hands. The room that contained every single thing I knew about vampires and how to fight them. I triggered the mechanism to release the door, stepped inside what I always thought of as my office. Like the rest of the house, the air of this room was still and close. Out of habit more than anything else, I secured the door behind me, then stood for a moment, taking stock.

  In front of me was my desk with its high-end laptop. Bookshelves filled with research materials. Drawers for weapons of varying shapes and kinds. And, directly across from the desk, the focal point of the room, my cork situation board, empty except for a single item: the sketch of Ash that he had given me in San Francisco, the one with the strange insignia and characters on the back that I had never been able to decipher. I had left it there following the events that had culminated in the death of Senator Cabot Hamlyn on New Year’s Eve at Randolph Glass’s house, a reminder of unfinished business.

  I set the shoulder bag I carried with me down on the desk then walked across the room to the corkboard. I unpinned Ash’s image, stood looking at his face. Everything always comes back to you, Ash, doesn’t it? I thought.

  And, in that moment, I felt the world tilt as I suddenly saw my life in a way I never had before. Even this room, which I had built so painstakingly, so certain I was creating something for myself alone, even this had Ash as its center. Why had I never realized how thoroughly his presence permeated every part of my existence? It was true that I had come to Vegas because of my friendship with Bibi,
but my real reason for leaving San Francisco had been to start over, to begin a new life after what had happened between me and Ash. The awakening of our love. Its ultimate, almost fatal consequences. I thought I had succeeded, in this room most of all.

  Now, in a flash of intuition so precipitous it left me dizzy, I realized the truth. I hadn’t started over. Not for one moment. Not at all. From the moment we met, Ash had become the pivot point of my existence. All the decisions I made in Vegas—the creation of my hidden office, my personal crusade to eliminate vampires who fed on human blood—were bound to him. He was their cause, their reference point.

  Without Ash, I would have had no reason to fear vampires, no desire to destroy them. If not for Ash, I would have been just like everybody else. But because of him, I was different forever. Forever marked and set apart. Now and always, the same amount of time he had sworn to love me, there would be no existence without him. The only way to be free of Ash would be to die.

  Well, this is useful, Candace, I thought. Just what, precisely, are you so upset about? You had your shot at ending it. You didn’t take it. You didn’t want to die.

  Instead, I begged Ash not to let me go.

  I felt my gut clench then as a pang of need shot through it. A need for Ash. A need for blood. My fingers gripped the drawing of Ash, wrinkling the edges of the dry, old paper before shoving it into my shoulder bag.

  I can’t give in to this, I thought. I had to fight the blood craving, even if it meant fighting both Ash and myself. I was tired of feeling weak, of being weak. I wanted what I thought I had created in Vegas: a life I chose and controlled.

  From the front of the house, I heard the muffled sound of the doorbell chime. I went to answer the door.

  “Thanks for coming, Chet,” I said a few moments later as the Sher’s computer security guru and I stood in the living room. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem,” said Chet McGuire. He swallowed, and I watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his skinny throat. Chet looks like the quintessential socially inept computer geek, but I knew there was a whole lot more to him.