I clenched my fists, loathing them. For the vampires, Isaiah’s torture was an amusing spectacle, and Hedda’s grief was icing on the cake. Helpless tears slid down my cheeks. If only I had a thousand stakes and the strength to wield them! I would have brought down every one of those monsters.
Isaiah, panting heavily, sagged in the chair. He blinked against the sweat running into his eyes. “I swear; that’s all I know.” He spoke in bursts, as if he’d finished running a marathon.
Bertrand hadn’t moved a muscle, but he seemed to be considering this.
Victor took a handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed it over his face. He wasn’t sweating, but the gesture seemed to comfort him. “I can keep trying to crack him, but I don’t believe he has the information we want.”
“Ask the young woman,” Bertrand said.
Isaiah came alive at once, struggling against his fetters. “No!”
Victor, too, protested. “I’ve already talked with Miss Jaber several times. She’s told me everything she knows.”
Bertrand’s eyes slid from Isaiah to Victor to Hedda before finally coming to rest on me. “I’m sure she’s told you a number of things. Including what a wonderful playwright you are.” Several vampires twittered. “She’s a smart girl. She knew that flattery would soften you, Victor.”
Victor’s hands clenched into fists.
“That’s not true!” I said. “I do think Victor’s play is amazing. He’s a brilliant playwright!”
“Really? Then why did you refuse to become his blood partner?” Bertrand demanded. He regarded Isaiah’s limp form. “It’s because of the vampire killer, isn’t it? Your heart belongs to him.”
Knowing that anything I said would only make things worse, I kept my mouth shut.
At my silence, Victor’s expression turned to stone. My knees trembled. Not only was this vampire a jilted lover, he was also about to become my torturer.
To my surprise, however, Victor said, “As I told you before, the matter should be settled as privately as possible. Send your guests away so that Cassie won’t have to suffer the humiliation.”
The collection of vampires murmured angrily, like ticket holders who’ve been told the concert is canceled. Bertrand’s lips thinned. “Which of them should I send away? Your maker, Sylvester Hoy? Or perhaps his maker, Maude Belmont?”
Victor twitched and glanced at the crowd. Although he ruled over Bertrand and Hedda, he was clearly outranked by the others. Finally, he relented with a sigh. “Go ahead. Release this one, and tie Cassandra to the chair.”
Three vampires came forward to drag Isaiah away. With a roar, Isaiah freed one arm and swung his massive fist, catching the closest vampire in the nose. Bones crunched. When the second vampire re-pinned the arm, Isaiah’s leg lashed out between the third vampire’s legs. A fourth vampire darted behind Isaiah, chopping his hands against either side of Isaiah’s neck. My vampire hunter crumpled to the ground. The vampires clapped and cheered.
“An impressive display,” Bertrand said, rubbing his upper lip thoughtfully.
When Isaiah roused himself for round two, I shouted, “Stop! Please! I’ll do this willingly.” I cautiously approached the old, office chair. When I sat, Isaiah’s blood soaked into the seat of my jeans. One of Bertrand’s bodyguards picked up the discarded electrical cord, ready to tie me in. I shrank back. “That isn’t necessary. I won’t run away.”
“It is necessary,” Victor said tersely.
I kept my head up and my eyes on Isaiah as my arms and legs were bound to the chair. My bladder was uncomfortably full. Nerves, no doubt. The thought of asking the vampires for a potty break made me smile a little. At my smile, something shone in Isaiah’s face. Pride. He thought I was being brave. If only he knew what I’d really been thinking.
Victor’s razor-sharp stare drove the humor from the situation. Instantly, my smile faded. “Bertrand is going to ask you several questions, and you are to answer honestly.” He paused and licked his lips. “Then I’ll check to see if you’re lying.”
Adrenaline fizzed and popped in my bloodstream. No way would the questioning be that simple.
“How long have you known Hedda Widderstrom?” Bertrand’s dry voice scraped my nerves like sandpaper.
“Since last Saturday. Wait, no, I mean I knew who she was before that.” My thoughts jumbled. “When I started working at the Bleak Street last July, I saw her bust in the lobby. So, technically, I knew who she was back then. But we hadn’t really been introduced until the night County Dracula closed which was a week ago. Well, actually, four days ago.”
“Cassandra, relax.” Victor put his hand on my knee, but instead of settling me down, his cold, heavy touch sent my heart racing. Still, the softness in his eyes made things a little easier. Maybe he wasn’t my enemy after all. I bit my lip and nodded.
“Her oafish answer speaks for itself,” Bertrand said. “She’s obviously telling the truth.” Several vampires cackled. You should do standup, Bertie, I thought sourly.
“During your service to Hedda, did you ever observe conversations between Hedda and the vampire killer, Isaiah Griffin?”
I bristled at the word ‘service’. From the way Bertrand spoke it, it sounded more like ‘slavery.’
Neither Hedda nor Victor’s eyes gave anything away. I swallowed. “Yes, I overheard a conversation between the two of them.”
“Where?”
“At the Muse on the night of Luquin Astor’s, uh, induction.”
“And?”
I thought more closely about the question. When I’d eavesdropped at the Muse, Hedda and Isaiah’s conversation had been cloaked in innuendo. I hadn’t understood a word of it. Maybe playing dumb was the best way to go. “Hedda told Isaiah she didn’t want any interruptions to the ceremony. She wanted everything to go smoothly.”
I relaxed when the vampire courtroom didn’t buzz in alarm. Apparently, no one seemed bothered that Hedda had asked a human for protection.
“Have you ever been threatened by a member of the Widderstrom grieve?”
The question was like a douse of cold water in the face. I gasped. I’d known this would be asked sooner or later, but hadn’t expected it so soon.
“Answer truthfully,” Victor muttered.
I forced my eyes away from Isaiah and Hedda. Marcella was a monster, but she was their monster.
“Well?”
I nodded, not daring to speak.
“Who was it?”
I glanced at Hedda who continued to kneel and bow her head. True, she’d knowingly stolen Marcella’s voice, but my honest answer would only bring her more pain. I couldn’t be that cruel.
“You already know the answer to that,” I muttered to Victor. Not only had Isaiah just confessed that his sister was a menace, but Victor himself had watched Marcella go after me.
“I know part of the answer,” he said, “but what else can you tell me?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t play around,” Victor counseled. “Be honest.”
My body trembled. “I am being honest. I swear it!” He frowned, clearly not believing me. Geoffrey was wrong; this wasn’t a kangaroo court – it was a witch hunt. No matter how much I protested my innocence, they’d already decided I was guilty.
Victor gave a regretful sigh. Then he slammed into my head with the force of a semi-truck.
Having someone ram his way into your mind is like having a platoon of armed storm troopers crash through your front door to search your house. Victor overturned every memory, exposing my most intimate secrets. My first kiss, my first sexual experience, my hidden crush on Andrew – all of it was laid bare before him.
I panicked. My gut reaction was to fling up my arms and cover my face, but because I was tightly bound, even that small comfort was denied. As I struggled, the electrical cord bit into my wrists. I gasped in pain.
Victor continued to plunder my brain, tossing aside my collection of beautiful memories. My mother reading bedtime stories to me, my fath
er pinning a corsage to my prom dress, the last time I saw my grandmother alive – these things were scattered like glass beads that Victor trampled as he searched for the truth.
Before I could stop him, he found the memory he’d been looking for. He withdrew from my ransacked mind. My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe. My brain felt shattered.
“Marcella threatened her,” Victor said. “She withdrew blood from an unwilling human, and she attempted to coerce Cassandra into giving up her shine.”
I glared at him from tear-filled eyes. “I told you there was nothing you didn’t already know!”
A harsh, metallic sound like the creak of rusty springs filled the room. Bertrand’s laughter. “Ah, Hedda, my dear. You’ve always told me that you hold to a higher ideal, yet you can’t even keep your own lover in check.” He abruptly stood and approached his ex-wife. Turning to the audience, he said, “You’ve all heard her preach, have you not? Human souls are sacred. Human souls should not be taken without permission.” He pulled her to her feet. “On the night I turned you, you fed like a real vampire.” His obsidian eyes glittered. “Remember?”
She stared at the floor.
“Yet, here you are, standing trial before these witnesses. Why? Because you failed.” Again, the grating, metallic laughter. “Your own lover has been undisciplined. She’s stealing shine and creating monsters who could lead humans to the doors of our grieves!”
Almost tenderly, Bertrand tucked a lock Hedda’s black hair behind her ear. “I always told you that your affections were unnatural. Men are made to love women, and women to love men. I’ve been patient with you over the years, but I can’t stand by any longer. For you to love a woman is one thing, but for you to allow your female lover to create a rogue is pure perversion.”
Hedda blinked and swallowed.
“Maybe if you’d paid more attention to your creation, she would have served you better. Loved you better.” He pulled Hedda very close to him. “Forgiven you for ruining her lovely voice.” This, finally, drew a reaction. A single tear leaked from Hedda’s eye.
The other vampires hooted and clapped. A few laughed. “Come on, Hedda,” one shouted. “Show us how to live peacefully among the humans!” More laughter.
I now understood why Bertrand had brought in so many guests to witness Hedda’s demise. It as payback for the play she’d written about him. Bertrand didn’t just want to steal Hedda’s grieve, he wanted to steal her dignity.
A short vampire with a face like a bulldog stepped down from the top riser and pushed his way to the front of the assembly. “I think we’ve heard enough.” The vampire had uneven front teeth that pushed against his upper lip. Hedda wilted under his scalding glare. “Bertrand is right. Hedda is not in control of her grieve. She did not stop Marcella from creating rogues, nor did she hold Marcella to the rules of her grieve.”
“I disagree.” A different vampire, this one a teenage girl, held up her hand. Her fluting voice rose above the grumble of the assembly. “The question isn’t whether Marcella is dangerously out of control, but whether or not Hedda knew about the hazards. Hedda is only guilty if she has been covering up her paramour’s crimes.”
“This is a trial, not a public debate,” Victor snapped.
“Well?” Bertrand demanded. “Did Hedda not realize what her lover was up to, or was she covering up Marcella’s crimes?”
“Let’s find out,” Victor said.
Before I could prepare myself, Victor once again raided my thoughts, digging even deeper into my mind. I tried to fight him off, but he easily pushed past my weak blockades. Once again, my wrists strained at my binds as I tried to thrust my hands up. My legs kicked as my body tried to flee.
Don’t fight me. Victor’s voice spoke inside my head, drowning out my own thoughts. The wrongness of his invasion made me shudder. You’ll make it worse if you fight.
An anguished wail filled the room. I tried to see who was in so much pain before realizing that I was the one screaming. “Stop!” I begged. “Please!”
Victor continued his assault. The deeper he went into my head, the more memories he churned up. Including the one from the blind pig. In a moment, he’d know that Marcella had threatened to kill him, and Hedda hadn’t bothered to report it. If that happened, Hedda wouldn’t stand a chance.
I fought Victor, but there was no escaping him. Now that he’d gotten the outlay of my mind, he could travel those dark passages as easily as I could navigate my parents’ house. No wonder he had once been such an amazing playwright. Even as a human, he must have possessed an inner eye that allowed him to see past a person’s artifice and into their secret selves. His drama had come directly from the dark maw of emotion most people keep hidden from public eyes. His creative ability astounded me. I wished that he’d remained human. His plays would have reshaped modern theater.
The moment the thought entered my mind, Victor abruptly pulled out of my head. He rocked back on his heels, staring at me in amazement. For several seconds, he didn’t move. Then, as gentle as a mother’s kiss, he eased back into my thoughts, giving me a glimpse of his own, personal feelings. He confessed that all this time, he’d never truly believed me when I’d said how wonderful his play was. He thought I was indulging him the way everyone else in Hedda’s grieve had been. All his life, people had mocked his aspirations. Never before had anyone taken him seriously. My passion for his work touched him deeply.
Victor slipped from my mind. Giving me a warning look, he said, “Cassandra doesn’t know anything else.”
More murmurs. Hedda closed her eyes, her lips moving silently. Bertrand studied me with such intensity that I was sure I’d catch on fire. He rubbed his upper lip as he thought. Victor patted my knee once, and I sighed in relief. I was about to be freed.
Then a terrified scream came from outside the building.
Chapter Twenty-Four
For a moment, even the vampires were stunned. Then a shout of, “She’s gone!” drew everyone’s attention to the place where Marcella’s blackened body had been lying. A trail of ash led to the dark depths of the building. Somehow, while the eyes of the court had been fixed on me, Marcella had found the strength to crawl off.
One of Bertrand’s goons darted into the dark, returning a second later, the silver chains that had been binding Marcella dangling from his gloved hand. He threw them onto the floor in disgust.
At another scream from outside, all of the vampires fled the building, leaving me tied to the chair. Apparently, I wasn’t enough of a threat to require a guard or important enough to release.
Isaiah hurried over and knelt next to me. “You okay?”
My thoughts bumped painfully like chunks of cement in a dryer. My thick tongue clung to the roof of my dry mouth. My cut wrists burned. “Peachy.”
He quickly untied me and pulled me to my feet. My fingers tingled painfully as the blood began to re-circulate. I started towards the front door, but Isaiah held me back. “Not that way.” He guided me behind the ersatz risers and towards the back of the building.
More screams from outside. I grabbed his hand which was sticky with blood. “What’s happening?”
“No idea, but I’m not waiting around to find out.”
We entered a nightmare maze of dark, narrow hallways and empty offices. The building must have lain vacant for years. The neglected roof had leaked, causing deadfalls of plaster, broken light fixtures, and asbestos tiles. Electrical wires hung like snakes from the ceiling. Isaiah kept urging me to go faster, but I couldn’t get my clumsy legs in gear. Growing impatient, he finally picked me up and carried me.
I longed to lay my head against his chest, but his stiff hold wasn’t an invitation to cuddle. He wasn’t my knight in shining armor so much as a first responder at the scene of an accident. My heart sank. This rescue was an act of duty, not the result of tender feelings.
We finally reached a back exit. A locked back exit. Isaiah set me down and threw his shoulder against the door. Hinges groaned. He trie
d again, and the metal buckled. After a third attack, the door popped open.
The moment I followed him outside, an arctic wind sawed at my face and cut like knives in my lungs. The cold blew the cobwebs from my fuzzy mind and took the wobble out of my legs.
“Where did you park?” Isaiah asked.
I grit my teeth as another gust drove icy pellets into my face. “I didn’t. I was brought here in Bertrand’s limo. What about you?”
“I’m around front. If we want to ride out of here, we’ll have to join the action after all.”
I picked up a fallen chunk of cement. “Count me in.”
By the time we reached the front of the building, however, everything was quiet. The battle, if there had been one, was long played out. Dozens of headlights lit up the cinder-strewn yard. Unmindful of the cold, vampires stood in scattered knots. Some hung by the remains of the bonfire where Geoffrey’s lifeless body smoldered among the embers. A few others lingered by Martin Nowicki’s head which sat like a grisly ornament on the hood of Bertrand’s limousine. Rita had been hanged from the broken-down chain-link fence, her body now as lifeless as her blood-soaked fox coat. From the bitter stink in the air, it appeared that at least one vampire had been taken down as well.
I blinked back tears as I searched for other casualties. “Do you see Charles?”
Isaiah grimly shook his head. “No.”
“Marcella did all of this, didn’t she?” When he nodded again, I thought of the blackened husk that had been his sister. “How on earth did she manage it?”
Isaiah rubbed his forehead, hiding his eyes from me. “I think you and Perry were right all along,” he softly admitted. “My sister was responsible for all those rogues which means she’s been drinking as much shine as possible. She’s very strong.”
When she’d been draped silver chains, she hadn’t appeared strong at all. “She must have had help,” I said. “There’s no way she escaped on her own.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” His eyes scanned the area. “Now, she’ll be going after more shine to power herself up. She’s out of control. And crazy.” It must have cost Isaiah a lot to finally admit that.
Stage Fright (Bit Parts) Page 26