Hunger

by Karen E. Taylor

  I looked into his eyes, so blue and intense. “I thought we had to go out,” I teased him softly.

  “Later,” he said and kissed me.

  The phone rang and he jumped from me. “Let it ring,” I urged, twining my arms around his neck and pulling him back.

  “Shit,” he swore as he rose from me reluctantly. “I can’t just let it ring. It might be important.” He reached over, picked up the phone, then covered the receiver and took one more kiss before answering it. “Yeah,” he said brusquely into the phone, “this had better be good.”

  I could hear the voice of the caller, low, urgent and somehow familiar, but did not pay attention. Instead, I occupied myself with lazily tracing the muscles in Mitch’s now tense arm until he brushed me off and sat up straight.

  “Look, Hunter, I thought I made the situation plain last night. She’s with me now. I’ll take care of her. You should just leave her alone.”

  “Damn,” I swore quietly and Mitch gave me a sharp look. I could hear Max’s cynical laugh and comment quite plainly. He, too, had raised his voice. “Calm down, Greer. I only want to talk to her. I know she’s there.”

  Mitch put his hand over the receiver again. “It’s Max,” he snarled, handed me the phone and stalked out of the room.

  “Damn it, Max. Your timing couldn’t be worse. What do you want?”

  “I spoke with Victor Lange today. He said you had dinner at the Imperial last night.”

  “That’s right. And?”

  “It was brought to my attention that I just might have some information for Greer, if he would be interested.”

  I looked up and Mitch was standing in the entrance of the door glaring at the telephone. “What the hell does he want?” he said in a voice loud enough to be heard.

  “Tell him what I said, Deirdre.”

  “I don’t much care to be caught in the middle of this, Max. Why don’t you just talk to Mitch, if that’s what you want? Or maybe he should listen in on the extension.” I wasn’t sure with which one of them I was most annoyed.

  “An excellent idea, Deirdre,” Max agreed. “I do have something of importance to say to both of you.”

  “Pick up the extension, Mitch,” I said, exasperated. He went to the kitchen and we maintained silence until we heard the click from the other phone.

  “Now, isn’t that better?” Max said sarcastically. “All cozy and together again.”

  “Get to the point, Hunter. We have better things to do . . .”

  “I’m sure you do.” Max’s voice was smooth, insinuating. “So I’ll make it quick. I didn’t wish to interrupt your afternoon. But it was important that I talk to Deirdre. When I couldn’t find her at any of the usual places, I assumed she was with you.” I could hear an uncharacteristic sadness in his voice. Mitch must have heard it also, because he awkwardly cleared his throat. Max continued without acknowledging him. “Be that as it may, even if she weren’t there, I would have called to give you some information.” Max paused and I could hear a faint tingling of ice against a glass.

  “Get on with it, Hunter,” Mitch said and Max laughed.

  “He’s so abrupt, my dear. I must admit, I don’t quite understand the attraction, but it must be considerable. You don’t know how lucky you are, Greer. She’s been through hundreds of men since I’ve known her and never gone back for seconds.” He laughed again.

  “You bastard . . .” Mitch started.

  “It doesn’t matter, Mitch,” I cut in. “Don’t let him get to you. He does it only for the reaction. Isn’t that right, Max?”

  “Just so, my love. But my advice to you, Greer, is to make hay while the sun shines. Some night she’ll fly away and you’ll never get her back.” There was still a trace of cynical laughter in his voice.

  “Spare us the dramatics, Hunter. I heard them all the other night. Just get on with it.”

  “Fine, I won’t waste your time any longer. Today in conversation with Victor Lange, I suddenly realized that I had important information on your case. If the two of you were to stop over at the club tonight, I’d be more than willing to share it.”

  “What exactly is going on?” Mitch sounded angry. “You gave no indication earlier that you knew anything about this. I know you have been questioned and had nothing to say. I could charge you for withholding evidence, or . . .”

  “Don’t threaten me, Greer. It will do you no good. Let’s just say that I became aware of something of importance to you and I wanted to do my civic duty.

  I laughed at that comment, coming from Max. Responsibility, civic or otherwise, was never one of his strong points.

  “Deirdre, you wound me.” I said nothing and he continued. “You will come, won’t you? Together?”

  Mitch broke in quickly. “I’ll be there, Hunter. But I don’t see the need to drag Deirdre into this. She’ll stay here. Last time she was at your club, she was almost killed, no thanks to you.”

  “Deirdre will come with you, won’t you, my dear? Otherwise the deal is off. I’ll expect you both after sundown.”

  “We’ll be there, Max.”

  I hung up the phone and Mitch came back into the bedroom. “What do you suppose this is all about?” he asked me and I shook my head.

  “It’s hard to tell with Max. It may even be his idea of a practical joke.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  “Not to you, maybe or even me. But Max is different; I don’t really think he means any harm. It is just the way he is.”

  “You have too high an opinion of that man, Deirdre. I could believe almost anything of him. He’s just too damn smooth.”

  “Let’s not waste our time talking about Max. We’ll find out soon enough what he wants. And until then,” I checked the clock, “we have about two hours before sunset. Do you think we could pick up where we left off?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, crossing the room and smiling the smile that lit his eyes.

  Afterwards, we both fell asleep and the dream found me swiftly and mercilessly.

  It begins at the side of the road; I leave the carriage and the frightened horses, I step over the body there without question to follow the dark figure that beckons just out of my reach. With every step that takes me nearer to him I grow in strength, but even that is not enough. Still he moves ahead and I struggle to catch up, to match a face to that form and voice that haunt me through dreams and wakings. I am running now, wearing the green velvet dress. It is dirty and stained, the hem sodden and thick with blood and tears. It catches around my ankles and I stumble. He turns around to watch me. His laugh is as dark and unimaginable as his face.

  “Come,” he urges. “Hurry,” he calls and the words are carried on the wind as if from a long distance away. I pull myself from the ground and follow for what seems like miles, never tiring and yet always behind. Soon he leads me down a street I recognize to a house, my house, my father’s house. The air is heavy with the sweet scents of the garden but I cannot stay. I must find him.

  He has entered the house, I know; the door swings slightly ajar in the wind. His footsteps echo in the upstairs hall and I ascend to meet him. The corridor is long and shadowy, but the dead are not here. “At rest,” I whisper. “Have you gone to rest?” There is no answer, all is empty and hollow.

  The doorway at the end stands open and I see the starlit sky, the open field. I enter and he is not there. “Show yourself,” I scream defiantly, angrily and am answered with a wild rustling of wings, stirring the warm evening air. I feel his presence behind me, his breath is hot on my neck and my hair begins to raise. I do not turn around. “Are you here then?” I ask quietly.

  “I am here.”

  “I would see your face.”

  “There is no need, little one. It has been before you for years and you did not see.”

  “I would know who you are.”

  “But you know me, Deirdre. Better than any other. We are one. Why do you deny me?”

  I feel the silken touch of his wing on my neck.
It is smooth as before and dark. I tremble at the touch and clench my fists in anger. With his lightly deposited kiss and my ensuing shudder there can be no doubt. For I do know him now, but as I turn around to confront him, he is already dissolving into the darkness. There is only the brief glance of confirmation: the moonlight shining off the sculptured lines of his face, the lifting of an eyebrow, the cruel twist of his mouth, a mouth that had lied and comforted, kissed and tortured, a mouth and a hunger that had killed many and destroyed me—Max’s mouth, Max’s hunger.

  And then he is gone.

  Chapter 23

  I awoke alone with his name echoing angrily in my head. Mitch must have risen without waking me. I dressed quickly and walked out of the bedroom. Mitch was sitting at the kitchen table, finishing a sandwich. He looked up at me, smiled and finished swallowing. “Sleep well?”

  “Fine.” I stared at him for a minute, as he stood up and put his plate into the sink. When he turned around he gave me a puzzled look.

  “What’s wrong? You look shook up.”

  “Bad dream.” I said simply. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes, if you are.”

  We walked out of the apartment and got into his car. As he began driving, he turned to me. “Are you sure you’re all right? You look like you might be getting sick or something.”

  “No, I’m fine.” I reached over and touched his thigh gently. “Mitch,” I asked casually, “what was that you said yesterday about the girl in the morgue?”

  “Who?”

  “You know, the fourth murder victim. Something about her disturbed you.”

  “Yeah, she reminded me of you. It bothered me a lot.” He smiled and put his hand on top of mine. “But I’m okay now. All of that helped me realize that it didn’t matter what or who you are. I knew that I still loved you, if I could get so upset about seeing the dead body of someone who just looked like you.”

  “In what way did she look like me?”

  “Well, she was about your height, your build and her hair was almost the same color, other than that . . .” He stopped abruptly and gave me a sharp look. “Why? Is it important?”

  “No, probably not.” It really didn’t matter at that point; I was still overwhelmed by the identity of the man in my dream. I began to think about our relationship over the years. How could I have been so blind? That first spark of recognition at the diner in Kansas should have told me. So many things since I had known him should have told me. The way he controlled and manipulated me, the way I could never stay angry about anything that he did to me, the way I always came crawling back to the sanctuary of his presence. “Damn,” I whispered to myself.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing, only do you think you could drive a little faster. I’d like to get this over with.”

  He looked at me questioningly, and said nothing but increased his speed as much as possible. The streets were congested with cars and pedestrians. It took us over twenty minutes to travel the remaining six blocks. The whole time I stared out the window, clenching my fists so tightly that my nails broke the surface of the skin. I opened my hands, eight perfect crescents of congealed blood marked the palms.

  Mitch parked his car out front and when the doorman tried to stop him, he showed his badge. “Police business,” he said and the doorman let us through. We shouldered our way through the crowd in the bar and eventually made our way to the hall that led to Max’s office.

  Before we reached the door, Mitch stopped in his tracks and grabbed my arms. “Deirdre, what the hell is going on here? All of a sudden, it’s like you know something I don’t. Care to enlighten me?” His voice was tense and nervous.

  “How could he take me in so completely?” I spoke as if to myself. “All these years, and I never knew him, never knew who he was. And now, it’s so obvious.”

  “What’s obvious, Deirdre? Who are you talking about?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve been a fool. I suppose I didn’t really want to know.” I broke away from Mitch and began walking again. He stood still staring for a moment, then caught up with me as I reached Magus closed door.

  I pulled him into a fierce embrace. “I love you,” I said as I stretched up and kissed him, forgetful for one moment of all that waited for me, behind the door.

  “And I love you, too. But this hardly seems the time or place . . .”

  “There may be no time, later.” I looked deeply into his eyes. “Wait here, Mitch,” I pleaded. “I’ll handle this by myself.”

  “Handle what?” he started, but the door opened.

  Max stood there, elegant as usual. His features seemed more cruel, more inhuman than I could ever have imagined them. His eyes blazed as they met mine. “What a delightful surprise. You’re right on time. Please come in.”

  I ignored him and kissed Mitch again, slowly and lingeringly. “Stay here,” I said to him again when we had finished.

  Max laughed. “How touching, Deirdre. But you have me all wrong. I don’t intend to hurt him, not if he gives me what I want. And he will, you know. Please come in, you’re both most welcome.”

  “ ‘Enter freely and of your own will?’”I quoted to him. “Don’t you think that just may be a trifle melodramatic, Max?”

  He smiled at me and nodded. “Perhaps it is, my little one. But at least you finally understand. That’s good. Although I had wanted to reveal myself to you at my own time, when I spoke with Victor, and he told me he had informed you about my escort the other night, well, I realized that it wouldn’t be long before the two of you began to put everything together on your own. And so now you know who and what I am. I’m glad; it will make everything so much easier.”

  Mitch looked at both of us, in confusion. “I don’t understand. Would someone just tell me what is going on here?”

  “Dracula welcomes Jonathan Harker to his castle,” I said to him gently. “Chapter two, I believe.” Max nodded and I continued. “I thought you had done research, Mitch.”

  “Then,” he said in disbelief, “Max is also a . . . just like you.”

  Max’s sardonic laughter echoed in the hallway and I felt a chill run up my spine. “So you found the courage to tell him, my dear. And he still stands with you. That’s good.” Then he turned to Mitch. “Yes, Greer. I’m also a vampire. But you’ll find that, unlike some,” and he gave me a surprisingly gentle glance, “I’m not afraid to say the word, nor to use the powers I have. But it is most inappropriate to discuss this here in the hall.” He motioned us in and we obeyed.

  The power he was exerting over us seemed insurmountable and when he gestured for us to sit down, we did so mechanically and without question. Mitch, I noticed briefly, was busy surveying the surroundings, but I could barely take my eyes away from Max. “You and I have a few scores to settle, Max,” I said through clenched teeth. “Let Mitch go. He can’t hurt you.”

  “Oh, but he already has. He has taken you and loved you. And made you love him. That cannot be allowed. I’d wager that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me now, if he could. Isn’t that right, Greer?”

  “You son of a bitch,” Mitch snarled and reached into his coat for his gun. He was no match for the other’s reflexes. Max moved across the room in a blur and gripped Mitch’s arm, twisting until the gun dropped. Then, with a small smile at me, he continued to twist. Mitch gave a moan of pain and I could hear his bones breaking, accompanied by a wet, tearing sound. One of the bones had broken through his skin and my nostrils flared. The room was now filled with the scent of blood.

  “Max!” I pleaded with him. “Please stop.”

  “Anything you say, my dear.” Max flung him into a corner of the room as if he weighed nothing. Mitch’s head hit the wall and his moaning ceased. I ran to him, searching for the pulse in his neck.

  “Still alive?” Max inquired. When I nodded, he shook his head. “He must be stronger than I thought. It makes no difference, I suppose. He can live, for now.”

  “So help me, Max, if you kill him . . .
”

  “Oh, but I won’t kill him, Deirdre.” He looked amused. “I wouldn’t even dream of it. Once again you have misjudged me.”

  I managed a low, bitter laugh. “Misjudged you? No, I don’t think so, Max. Underestimated. maybe. But you’re capable of anything, aren’t you?”

  He thought for a moment. “Let’s just say that I rarely fail when I set my mind to something. Besides, when one is faced with eternity, as are you and I, a few lives don’t matter.”

  “How can you say that?” I was horrified. “That’s inhuman.”

  “Ah, but then, isn’t that the point? We are inhuman.”

  “Thanks to you, I am. Would you care to explain that?”

  “You, I’m sad to admit, were a mistake. I never intended to turn you into a vampire. I’ve found over the years that women make very poor initiates. They just don’t have the cruelty, the ruthlessness that is needed.” He gave me a tender glance and walked gracefully to me. He took my hand and kissed it gently. “You don’t either, my love. But you had a will to survive and that carried you through. I admired you at the time for the fight you put up. I admire you now. You are one of my best creations.”

  I stiffened and pulled my hand away. “You have other creations? Where?”

  “All over the world, I believe. I keep in touch with a few of them, still. Some are more successful than others, but none turned out quite so well nor half so beautiful as you. I have retried the experiment over the years, you know. Taken someone unwilling and forced my blood upon them. They all died, hideously with the first sunrise. But you had the instincts and the wit to survive.” He moved closer to me and fastened his eyes upon me again. “When I met you at that diner in Kansas, I could hardly believe you were the same person. The fact that you had lived for so long, on your own, unguided and untaught, surprised me. Even those with the best of teachers fail and die, usually within fifty years of their transformation.” He reached over to me and laid his hands on my shoulders. “But there could be no mistaking you; the blood we had shared called to me. And to you, although you did not know enough then to recognize the bond that held us together. I almost told you, the night we made love, but you weren’t ready yet.”