Notchey and Madison glanced at each other, then put their attention back on Dodie, waiting for an explanation.
Dodie started to say something, then stopped, clearly exhausted. Madison got up from the table. Retrieving a mug from the cupboard, she poured into it what remained of the smoothie Dodie had prepared for Keleta from the blender. After removing the chili from the microwave, she stuck the mug in for a few seconds to warm it up.
“Here,” she said, handing the mug to Dodie. “This might help.”
Dodie took the offered mug. “Thank you, dear.” She took a few sips, then a deep breath, before continuing.
“I’m afraid she’s back,” Dodie told them in a voice barely above a whisper, as if that explained everything.
“Who’s back?” asked Notchey.
“Annabelle.” Dodie paused to take another comforting sip of warm blood. “Annabelle Fogle.”
“And this Annabelle Fogle, she’s a vampire?” Notchey shifted in his chair as he waited for confirmation of what he already surmised. He could deal with beaters, but murderous vampires were another story.
“Yes. She’s the one who turned Doug.” Dodie took another sip of blood. “And probably Keleta. From what Doug’s told me, Annabelle purposefully hunts male bloodline holders, brands them, then turns them so they carry her mark for eternity.”
Looking down at her own left palm, Madison studied it. Bloodlines were special lines in the palm of the hand, darker than the others, that appeared on the left palm of people predisposed to being vampires. Only people with bloodlines could be turned into vampires by other vampires. Much to her relief, her own palm showed no special lines. But it didn’t keep her from checking.
Madison did some quick math in her head. “So if she turned Doug, this Annabelle has been a vampire for at least a couple hundred years.”
“Much longer,” answered Dodie. “Doug was turned in the early 1800s, and he told me that Annabelle was around during the Salem witch trials. Those were in the late 1600s. How much further she goes back, I’m not sure.”
“She’s a vampire witch?” The hair on Madison’s arms stood like a drunk’s three-day stubble.
“No, just a vampire. But I understand she stirred things up for a lot of those poor women in Salem. Doug told me Annabelle was one of the women spreading the lies about them. After, she turned a couple of the victims’ husbands.”
Madison was speechless. To her, the Salem trials were something from a history book, nothing more. “Are you kidding?”
“No, not at all.” Dodie shifted her head from side to side in sadness.
“How ironic,” commented Notchey, with a voice as dry as burnt toast. “They were hunting witches, real or not, and all the time they had embryo vampires in their midst.”
Again, Madison and Notchey looked at each other; this time, it was more than a glance. They studied each other’s face and saw the fascination and fear they shared.
Breaking his eyes away from Madison, Notchey turned back to Dodie. “Annabelle branded all the men she turned?”
Dodie shrugged her thin shoulders. “I’m not sure when she started the marking, but she was doing it when she met Doug. By giving them the brand before they were turned into vampires, they can never get rid of it.”
Madison leaned in. “What does the mark mean, do you know?”
“I’m not sure what it means,” Dodie told them, “if anything, beyond being her personal mark.”
“It’s like branding cattle,” Madison said in disgust. “Or slaves.”
Notchey got up and paced the kitchen. “So you think this Annabelle branded and turned Keleta, then dumped him in your pool? What would be her motive?”
“I’m not sure she needs one.” They all turned at the sound of Doug’s voice. They had been so wrapped up in what Dodie was saying, they hadn’t heard him come in. Behind him came Samuel, talking on his cell phone as he walked.
“Keleta is resting,” Samuel told everyone after ending his call. “That was Byron and Ricky on the phone. In a little while, I’ll take Keleta to their home. They will take care of him and try to determine whether or not he’s able to be rehabilitated.”
“Oh, dear.” Dodie looked at Samuel, her mouth a sad inverted crescent.
“Rehabilitated?” asked Madison. She was still learning about the vampire way of life and how the council governed to keep peace in their community. Dodie’s reaction to Samuel’s news put her on alert that rehabilitation was serious business.
“Keleta,” Doug explained, “is young, only twenty-two years old, and it seems he hasn’t been a vampire very long. He’s a bit confused right now about the timeline. It’s often difficult for young vampires to adjust to their new life, earn a living, and make their way without help. Byron and Ricky will spend time mentoring and teaching Keleta our ways.”
“Usually,” Dodie added, “the vampire who does the turning is responsible for the training, but in cases like this, it falls to others.”
“Where’s he from?” Notchey asked Samuel. “Could you understand him?”
Samuel stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. He was dressed casually in jeans and an expensive cream-colored sweater. After depositing his phone in his pocket, he pushed up the sleeves of the sweater and leaned against the door frame, his hands in his pockets.
Samuel was a striking man, clean shaven, with a bald head and a scar that started behind one ear and ran down the side of his dark brown neck. Rather than taking anything away from Samuel’s looks, the scar only added to his mystique and aura of power. When he smiled, he could light up a room. When he was displeased, even other vampires went on guard. He was wearing his usual sunglasses. Behind them, Samuel’s eyes were milky from being blinded by the man who’d sold him into slavery as a young boy. But when Samuel had been turned into a vampire, his sight had returned unexpectedly, clearer than ever, even as his eyes still appeared to be blinded. Samuel La Croix looked as though he were in his mid to late thirties and spoke with a steady, commanding voice with a hint of an accent, not unlike Keleta’s.
“The boy is from Eritrea,” Samuel informed them. “His name is Keleta Kibreab. He’s quite educated and speaks Tigrinya, which is an Eritrean language, as well as Arabic and Amharic, the language of Ethiopia. He does know some English, and it was coming back to him in bits and pieces as we spoke, but mostly I communicated with him in Amharic.”
Madison put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her cupped hands. “Could he tell you anything more?”
“As far as I could determine,” Samuel continued, “he’d come to California with some friends for a holiday. A woman invited him back to her place. They had another drink when they got there, but it must have been drugged, because the next thing he remembers was the pain of being branded.”
A collective shudder ran through everyone in the Dedhams’ kitchen just thinking about being branded. Especially Doug, who had already been through the painful process.
“Reminds me of that Holloway girl in the news,” said Madison. “She went on vacation and disappeared.”
“Oh.” Dodie’s hand shot up to her mouth in dismay as Madison’s comment flashed clarity on Keleta’s situation. “His poor parents. They must be frantic.”
“After that, he’s blocked most everything out,” continued Samuel. “He doesn’t remember being turned but understands he’s a vampire. He remembers nothing about the stake in his chest or about being brought here.”
“And what about Annabelle Fogle?” asked Notchey. “Does he remember her?”
Samuel shook his head. “He claims he never heard the woman’s name, just that the woman who turned him was older than him. She had long red hair and was very beautiful. The name Annabelle Fogle wasn’t familiar to him either.”
Doug shook his head. “Sure sounds like Annabelle.”
“Any reason why she’d show up now and do something like this?” Samuel asked.
Doug ran a hand over his lined face in frustra
tion. “Like I said, Samuel, she doesn’t need a reason. She does what she wants as the mood strikes her. The last time I saw her was right before Dodie and I married. Annabelle tried to talk me out of it.”
“Talk you out of it?” Dodie’s voice became shrill—another unusual occurrence. “She tried to kill me!”
Everyone turned to Doug as if he were a witness fudging important testimony. He nodded, confirming Dodie’s accusation. “That she did. That was sixteen years ago. We haven’t heard a peep from or about her since.”
“She wants you back, Doug.” Dodie’s face screwed up in anguish.
Doug went to his wife and took her in his arms to comfort her. “Now, now,” he cooed to Dodie. “That’s never going to happen, and you know it.” Keeping his arms around Dodie, Doug turned to Samuel. “Could just be a little dramatic statement.”
“Dramatic is right.” Dodie looked up at her husband. “She tried to murder another vampire just to get attention.”
“We don’t know if she meant to kill Keleta, sweetheart.”
“Why are you defending her?” Dodie pulled away from Doug, her usual spunk returned. “She drove a stake into his heart and left him in the daylight. If that’s not attempted murder, then what is?”
Madison’s eyes popped out of her head. She’d never heard the Dedhams have cross words, let alone fight, though she had to side with Dodie on this issue.
Samuel held up both his hands like a referee stopping a prize fight. “Everyone calm down. First off, we don’t know if it was Annabelle Fogle who did this to Keleta, so let’s not jump to conclusions. But as far as murder goes, I’m with Dodie. Whoever did this to Keleta meant for him to die and for you, or someone in this house, to find him.” He lowered his hands. “Who knows, it could even have been a beater who knows about you and is making a point, setting you up for something. We need more information before jumping to conclusions.”
“Tell you what,” offered Notchey. “I’ll check our missing persons file and see if Keleta’s name shows up. If it does, it will give us a starting point.”
Samuel nodded at the cop. “Thanks, Mike. That could be a big help. And I’ll put out some feelers and see what I can find out about Annabelle Fogle. Isabella Claussen should be able to help with that.” Isabella was another vampire on the council. She was tall, slender, and gorgeous, and she traveled the world as a type of ambassador to other vampire communities. She was Samuel’s eyes and ears outside of California.
Samuel stood up straight. “Doug, do you have some clothes for Keleta? I can’t take him to Byron and Ricky’s naked.”
“I’m much taller than the boy, but a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt should do the trick. That okay?”
“Anything. They will provide him with other clothes once he gets there.”
Madison looked out the kitchen window at the pool. Even in the coolness of February it looked so calm and inviting. Just a few hours ago, she’d found a dead body floating in it. Now that dead body was in the den, sipping a glass of blood. Madison had seen her mother shot to death when she was five and had been in and out of abusive and unstable foster homes until she was eighteen. She’d hoped to build a stable and calm life for herself, and even though they were vampires, until now the Dedhams had seemed to live such a life. Madison couldn’t help but wonder if it was she who brought the hard times and bad luck. Maybe she was a lightning rod for awful things.
Pushing the thought aside, she returned to her concern for Keleta. “Samuel,” she started, not turning around, “what does it mean for Keleta to be rehabilitated?”
Samuel had the gift of reading people’s personal history and their thoughts. He stepped up behind Madison and placed his strong hands on her upper arms. He turned her around to face him and took off his glasses to focus his cloudy eyes on her brown ones. He could see her self-doubt as clearly as if it had been written in the sky. Replacing his hands on her arms, he gave them a gentle squeeze and conveyed to her without words that this was not her fault and that she was not cursed.
She sensed his silent encouragement and wanted to believe him.
“Byron and Ricky will work with Keleta to assimilate him to our lifestyle,” he told her, answering her spoken question. “You know that scholarship fund the council handles?”
She nodded but kept silent, not wanting to break the comforting sound of Samuel’s voice with her own tongue. As terrifying as he could be when angered, he could also be as soothing as a glass of warm milk and a soft blanket.
“Byron and Ricky will make an appraisal of Keleta’s value to the community. If the council finds him worthy, some of that money will be used to help him start his life as a vampire. We’ll find him a place to live and secure him an occupation. We’ll teach him how to live as one of us.”
“And if he’s not found worthy?”
“Occasionally, the council comes across a new vampire abandoned by his turner who is not able to be assimilated for one reason or another. Most often it’s because they were turned too young to be left on their own. Other times it’s their attitude—usually intense anger at becoming a vampire against their will. People with that type of anger can put the rest of us in jeopardy.”
Madison knew immediately what Samuel meant. For the most part, the vampires who lived in California enjoyed a peaceful life under the radar of the living. A big part of the council’s job was to make sure the community remained undetected. Anyone—vampires or beaters—who put that peace at risk was dealt with quickly, with no second thoughts.
Madison raised her chin higher and bored her eyes into Samuel’s. The others remained silent. “You didn’t answer my question, Samuel. What if Keleta is not found worthy by the council?”
“You know the answer, Madison, so why ask?”
“Say it, Samuel.”
Samuel sighed. Although still very young, there was something about Madison’s intensity that touched him deeply. Although she often lacked self-confidence and had little to no tact, she was courageous and driven, and she faced the truth about life head-on like a truck being driven into a brick wall. She didn’t stand for bullshit, and neither did he.
“If Keleta Kibreab is found by the council to be a threat to himself or to us, then he will be terminated.”
Madison didn’t need an explanation for that. She knew damn well what it meant.
FOUR
C
ome on, slow poke,” Madison called to Notchey.
The two of them had gone for a run in Topanga Canyon two mornings after Keleta had been found. Madison was done, back at the car waiting for Notchey to catch up. He’d kept up with her for most of the three-mile hilly jog, mostly out of sheer determination not to let a girl beat him, but in the last mile he’d fallen behind. He’d given up smoking a few months earlier when he’d been shot, but his lungs were still trying to get a handle on his smoke-free lifestyle.
While she waited for Notchey, Madison slipped into her warm-up jacket and breathed in the earthy scents around her. She nodded good morning to several people she recognized from other morning runs as they made their way from the trail to their own cars. There was a couple—the woman tall and lanky, the man shorter and built like a young bull—she’d been seeing a lot recently. They always wore matching Dodgers ball caps. They both gave her a small wave as they climbed into their black SUV. As one of the familiar male runners passed Madison, he gave her fit figure and flushed face an appreciative scan and smiled. She gave him a small smile back. An older couple were just starting up the trail. They always walked it, going a good pace, hand in hand. As they passed Madison, they nodded and smiled. They reminded her of Doug and Dodie.
At least three times a week, she ran these trails early in the morning, unless Samuel had kept her up most of the night with vampire business. Madison found it gave her day a kick-start, especially on the days she had classes.
Before coming to live with the Dedhams, she’d driven over from Culver City to hike the trails on occasion, but now they were pract
ically in her back yard. Madison was naturally slim as a reed, but Dodie Dedham insisted on feeding her like a ranch hand. The running kept her in great condition. It also cleared her head, something she felt she needed more than keeping calories at bay. With the odd life she led, the physical exercise grounded her to the fact that she was the living walking amongst the dead. She’d invited Notchey, who usually ran on a treadmill in a gym, to come with her before. This morning was the third time he’d joined her. The hills were still kicking his ass, but he was getting better at it.
“Don’t make me hurt you,” Notchey wheezed out once he was beside her. He bent over and placed his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “I do carry a gun, you know.”
Madison laughed. Opening her car door, she grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to him. He downed half of it. Then she tossed him a towel. “You have time to come back to the house for some eggs and coffee before work?”
He gave her a tired grin. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll grab a shower at the Dedhams’, too, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. You’re family to them, same as me. You don’t have to ask every time. Just plan on it.”
“Besides, I have information on Keleta to give you to pass along to the council.”
“Is it good or bad?”
Notchey leaned against the car and took another drink of water. He was of average height with a slim build. His hair was brown, which he kept too short to flatter his face and his eyes. His nose had once been broken and badly set. It put character in an otherwise plain face. He was only thirty-four, though he often looked older. Madison didn’t know his personal history, but he wore the weight of his past like chain mail—heavy and impenetrable. In that, he was a lot like her.
“It’s interesting, to say the least. Do you know if those guys he’s been stashed with have gotten any information out of him?”
“Nothing that I know of.” Madison took a drink from her own water bottle. “Mostly, I think Keleta’s been resting and healing from his injury. And his English isn’t that good, according to Samuel. What did you find out?” She poked Notchey playfully in his ribs. “Come on, tell me.”
Baited Blood (A Madison Rose Vampire Mystery) Page 3