Crimson Shadows Read online

  At that thought, Lord Baldevar glanced over at him, an appraising, neutral stare while words flashed in Jimmy's mind with an almost painful intensity. Protect my daughter with your life.

  Jimmy nodded automatically as Ellie said, "I promise," to Baldevar and the vampire got up, indicating to Jimmy that he wanted him to walk him to the door.

  Jimmy followed docilely enough, not wanting to make a scene in front of Ellie, but once they were out of hearing range, Jimmy said in a low whisper, "You'd better keep your promise and not hurt Maggie."

  "Meghann is already hurting," Baldevar said. "I'm merely ensuring her safety."

  Jimmy nodded, resigned to the notion that their shared concern for Maggie and Ellie put him and Baldevar on the same side—at least until this crisis was over. This was the first time Simon Baldevar had ever talked to him instead of at him, the first time his words weren't some cutting remark or an attempt to intimidate.

  "Where are you going to search for Maggie?"

  "She's gone to Lee Winslow," Baldevar replied as though that were the most obvious thing in the world.

  Of course, Jimmy thought. Where else would Maggie go but to break this awful news to Charles's mortal lover? Then Jimmy felt a pang of jealousy and grudging respect, realizing Simon Baldevar did know Maggie better than he did, for he'd been able to figure out where she'd go immediately.

  "I can reach her in Chicago easily but I doubt we'll be back here before sunset tomorrow at the earliest," Baldevar said coolly. "Are there sedatives in this house?"

  "Huh? Oh, yeah. Lee sometimes has trouble sleeping. His time clock is all screwed up because he tries to spend so many hours with Charles . . ."Jimmy broke off, feeling his own choking grief for the man that had done so much to help him adjust to immortality. Charles Tarleton had been Jimmy's friend, too, and his absence would leave a painful hole in his heart... as well as a desire to get his hands on the despicable creature that slaughtered him.

  "My son is indeed despicable," Baldevar agreed, sounding both furious and resigned. "That is why you must protect Elizabeth from him. Make sure she takes a sedative before you sleep for the day. I want her to sleep all day tomorrow until we are awake to protect her." .

  "Is that necessary?" Jimmy asked, not liking the thought of Ellie spending her daylight hours in a drugged-out stupor.

  "Mikal's attack could come from any quarter," Baldevar responded. "Elizabeth says she will remain on this estate, but remember her youth, Mr. Delacroix. She might blunder unthinkingly into a trap; Mikal could lure her away from the house by having any of her friends contact her, say they are hurt or need her. I do not suggest they collaborate with him; they most likely would have no thought he was anything but another mortal for that is what he appears to be in daylight. I don't want Elizabeth responding to any temptation tomorrow. If she sleeps, Mikal cannot reach her for this house is barred to him."

  "Okay," Jimmy nodded. "I'll make sure Ellie takes something." He thought she could use the Valium he planned to give her anyway, after all she'd been through tonight.

  Baldevar nodded and with his hand on the doorknob to leave, he turned and gave Jimmy one last order, filled with a vehemence Jimmy couldn't have ignored even if he wanted to—Keep my daughter safe, Mr. Delacroix.

  Seven

  "You're very lucky ma'am," the disembodied customer service voice told Meghann and she bit back an acid comment about brainless automatons putting their foot in their mouth when they didn't know the reason behind a last-minute flight. 'There's a seat available on Delta Airlines Flight 458 nonstop from New York to Chicago, first class. May I have your credit card, please?"

  Meghann recited the information from memory, relieved that she'd gotten a flight on such short notice. She'd worried she wouldn't be able to leave New York tonight and then who would go to Lee? He must be wondering by now where Charles was ...

  No! Ruthlessly, Meghann suppressed the dangerous thoughts. She couldn't think of Charles now; she'd go crazy if she did.

  "Ma'am?" the operator said. "That flight starts boarding in forty-five minutes. Will you make it?"

  Meghann glanced at the signposts on the Sunrise Highway; she was five exits from MacArthur Airport. "I'll be there."

  She had to be there; the flight left at one AM and would touch down at O'Hare around four. A later flight and Meghann risked being exposed to daylight if there was the slightest delay. She put her foot down on the accelerator and pushed the Cadillac up to 120 mph, zooming past the thin night traffic.

  Inevitably, Meghann heard the whirring siren and blinked at the flashing lights of a police cruiser behind her a few minutes later.

  Go away, Meghann glared at the cop reflected in the rearview mirror and watched him cut the lights and siren, veer meekly into the right lane and pull off by the side of the road to wait for some mortal speedster he could ticket

  A dozen knives stabbed at Meghann's temples and she rubbed her head gingerly, wondering why she felt so ill at such a simple trick. Then she remembered how thoroughly Simon had drained her and realized she'd have to make a quick stop.

  Meghann slowed the car to a normal speed as she drove through the ugly, blighted town of Ronkonkoma on her way to the airport, scanning its quiet streets and boarded-up strip malls until she found what she was looking for at a 7-Eleven. Pulling into the parking lot, she watched it detach from a circle of friends and wander over to her.

  "Hi," Meghann greeted the young boy with a safety pin fastened through his nose, shocking pink hair, and vacuous eyes. She longed to tell him she could remember when the punk look was a sign of daring nonconformity and not the slick marketing gimmick MTV had warped it into.

  "You're a Goth, right?" the boy said in greeting. "You've really got the vampire look down, especially those half-moon circles under your eyes they look so natural. How do you do it?"

  I let the bastard who killed my dearest friend suck my blood while he screwed me. "Get in," Meghann said shortly and clenched her teeth at the nausea she felt from exerting that slight control over the boy's will. Just how much had Simon taken from her that her skin was pale enough to incite mortal comment and these baby tricks were making her sick?

  The boy obeyed, either Meghann's command or his own libido, and vaulted over the car door onto the passenger seat

  "I like your car," he announced and Meghann nodded her head in reply, her sharp eyes inspecting the area for a suitably deserted place to take her victim. "You're into the Goth scene? Me, too. You know, there's this club opening in Manhasset on Saturday. We could go together or something. It's gonna be really cool. They're saying there's gonna be this display like that hanging cop in Silence of the Lambs, some guy with his guts ripped out just stuffed over the front door. You pay the cover charge by putting the money in his abdominal cavity! I know it'll just be a dummy but that's still a great idea ... hey!"

  Meghann pulled the car behind a Salvation Army dumpster next to a densely wooded area, cut the ignition and jumped on the hapless boy. She didn't even bother stripping him, just attacked the femoral artery in his left thigh through his pseudo-army fatigue pants.

  The young man's blood, tinged with a pleasant overtone of marijuana, filled her mouth and Meghann drank greedily, feeling her grief abate in the dizzying high of the blood rush. With blood pouring down her throat and restoring her power, the crushing sadness faded and Meghann could almost forget Charles's poor, sorry remains lying in the trunk. Now Meghann's entire focus was on the strength coursing through her, strength and the sudden, irresistible desire to revel in the complete control she had over her prey. She could drain him to death if she wanted to and no one could stop her ...

  But Charles wouldn't like that, Meghann thought and the blood in her mouth turned sour. She sat up abrupdy, wiping her mouth and chin clean with a rag she took from the glove box. Charles wouldn't like it if she hurt someone. He was looking down on her now; she couldn't do anything to make him ashamed of her.

  Meghann glanced at her victim, pale and shocke
d, but well enough. He was still conscious, fear making him look much younger as he stared in disbelieving terror at Meghann's fangs, his lips moving with no sound coming out.

  "We had sex and then you got out of the car," Meghann said to the boy, relieved when she felt no drain on her energy as she reached into his mind. "You started walking back to your friends and a dog"—she glanced at his thoughts to see if there was any breed he particularly disliked—"a Doberman attacked you. You pushed him away before he could do more than bite your leg. That's all that happened tonight. Do you understand?"

  The boy nodded and repeated Meghann's hypnotic suggestions when she asked him how he got the wounds on his leg. Satisfied, she dismissed the boy and tore through Ronkonkoma, reaching MacArthur Airport with ten minutes remaining to final boarding for her flight.

  She checked in rapidly, enchanting everyone from the security guards at the metal detectors so they wouldn't see her when she walked past them to the flight attendant who believed the Queen of Spades card she handed her was a driver's license when she asked Meghann for identification before presenting her with her boarding pass.

  Meghann sank into the plush first-class seat, indifferent to her surroundings. She could care less if she flew in the cargo hold as long as she reached Chicago tonight.

  "Miss," a flight attendant said politely. "You'll have to store that in the overhead compartment."

  You saw me stow it, Meghann smiled and the girl smiled back, going away thinking Meghann no longer held anything on her lap.

  Meghann leaned back and shut her eyes, ignoring the instructions for emergency procedures and heaving a sigh of relief when the plane took off on schedule. Now she'd get to Lee tonight...

  What if Mikal has killed him, too?

  Meghann's eyes flew open and the fingers clutching Charles's remains tightened until the knuckles were white and strained with anxiety. Could Mikal have anticipated her agonized rush to Chicago? Was she blundering into a trap at Charles's house—Mikal waiting to kill his own mother?

  Meghann shrugged off the disquieting thoughts. She wasn't going to change her plans. If Mikal had... done something to Lee, it would just be one more score she had to settle with this monstrous boy she could no longer think of as her son. Let Mikal try and get her. It wasn't daytime and he couldn't sneak up on her. If Mikal wanted a batde, he'd get one and hopefully Meghann would kill him before he got a chance to harm Ellie.

  I can kill him, Meghann thought, ignoring the cries of her heart just as she had earlier when she screamed at Simon but wanted nothing more than to run into his outstretched arms and let him comfort her ...

  No! Simon was the cause of all this—to seek solace from him was like spitting on Charles's grave. This was all their fault, hers and Simon's. She'd killed her best friend because she allowed herself to trust Simon

  Baldevar when he swore he wouldn't raise Mikal to be a cold-blooded, remorseless killer.

  No, Meghann thought wearily, the whole mess went back further than that. Her true blunder was the night she let Simon take her and impregnate her. Whatever darkness in her soul responded to Simon, it mingled with his own ruthless evil that night to create the monster that was their son. A child of vampires—how could they have expected anything but the curdled, bleak soul Mikal apparendy had? Mikal should never have been born. If Meghann had just resisted Simon, none of this would be happening—Charles would still be alive.

  But then Ellie wouldn't have been born either and Ellie was the whole world to Meghann. Ellie wasn't dark or warped, she was a sweet, good girl. Was Ellie so different from Mikal simply because she was mortal? Why couldn't Ellie be her only child? But such regrets were a stupid waste of time. Playing if only wouldn't give Meghann back her best friend. Nothing would bring Charles back now. Meghann could only try to protect Lee and Ellie.

  Lee . . . how was she going to tell Lee that Charles was dead, taken away just as he and Lee were finally ready to be together forever? Lee had every right to hate her and Simon for producing the miserable offspring that slaughtered Charles. But no matter what Lee said, no matter how he tore into her, Meghann would keep him safe. It was the only thing left she could do for Charles, keep his mortal lover safe.

  Charles, Meghann thought and saw him clearly in her mind's eye, reliving the night they became friends, the night he saved her from suicide. He'd found her huddled over a victim in some back alley, weeping and hating herself because she didn't want to kill anymore but didn't know how to stop. She'd never forget the kind, concerned face looming out of the darkness or the gende, firm hand that pulled her off the cold street. Before he ever spoke a word, Meghann loved Charles, loved him for the way he'd seen past the worst in her to something good and decent that Simon Baldevar hadn't been able to warp.

  What would have happened to her if Charles hadn't risked Simon Baldevar's wrath that night to take her away from him and helped her learn to tame the blood lust? And how many other times had Charles saved her from despair? No one, not her mortal father or even Alcuin had been there for Meghann as consistendy as Charles. Not once in their sixty years of friendship had he let her down. Charles was always there to listen or offer advice or just be her friend. What was she supposed to do without him?

  "Miss?"

  Startled, Meghann opened her eyes and gazed at the middle-aged man seated next to her, the eyes beneath his black-framed glasses filled with concern.

  "Are you all right?" he asked politely. "You were crying in your sleep."

  "I wasn't sleeping," Meghann choked out and nodded her thanks at the cocktail napkin he gave her to wipe her face and blow her nose. "It's just. . . there was a death in my family."

  "I'm sorry," he replied gravely and Meghann could see this nice, plain man really meant that. "May I ask who?"

  "My brother," Meghann said truthfully, not able to stop crying now that she'd started. Crying was the only thing that mitigated the tight, clenching ache inside her. "He was murdered."

  "That's just awful," her newfound friend said and Meghann saw several other first-class passengers around them nod their agreement. "Have the police caught the killer?"

  "Not yet," Meghann said. The killer's my own son and he's still at large, he still presents a threat to my daughter and the only friends I have left—Jimmy and Lee.

  "I'm really sorry," the mortal repeated and Meghann felt humbled by his simple desire to comfort and ask nothing in return. Charles had had that kind of unselfish nature, the kind Meghann had always aspired to—noble and giving, helping mortals instead of victimizing them like Meghann had almost done to that foolish boy tonight.

  Well, Meghann could start improving herself right now, by doing something Charles would approve of. Clutching her comforter's hand, Meghann looked into his mind and then used the Sight to see what in his future would make him happy.

  "Don't worry," she smiled at the thirty-nine-year-old man. "The new fertility treatment will work—your wife is going to conceive in three months."

  "What the ..." the mortal started to stutter but Meghann shook her head gently and put a finger to her lips—don't question how I know, just accept and be reassured.

  The mortal {Bill, Meghann saw) quieted and a few minutes later, the plane began its descent into O'Hare.

  "Are you a psychic?" Bill asked as they walked off the plane together.

  Meghann nodded, thinking she wasn't much of one if she'd had no premonition of Charles's death. What good was her much vaunted Sight if it didn't save Charles, if it might not give her any warning that Ellie was in danger? Meghann sighed and remembered Alcuin's many admonitions that vampirism did not make her a god and only the gods saw all the future might bring.

  "Would you like a ride into the city?"

  Meghann shook her head; it was now a quarter past four. Driving, Meghann wouldn't reach Charles's Hyde Park neighborhood for another hour at least. Thank God his home fell within the thirty-mile radius of the astral plane and she'd visited before so she could fly there now.

&n
bsp; Meghann bid Bill goodbye and walked to the nearest ladies room, locking herself in a stall so no one would observe her disappearing when she used the astral plane.

  Meghann shut her eyes and inhaled as Alcuin had taught her to, clutching Charles's remains tightly. Transporting objects across the astral plane was difficult, but not impossible; you just had to concentrate.

  Meghann cleared her mind, shutting out all the grief and fear, willing herself to see and feel nothing, to try and float in a soothing nothingness. Soon her concentration was rewarded and she lost touch with the physical world. The harshness of the bathroom's fluorescent lights no longer burned against her closed eyelids; her nose wasn't offended by the overpowering scent of disinfectant and urine. All that was gone now and Meghann was ready to start her trip.

  Charles, Meghann thought and envisioned her destination—the long, rectangular brick and limestone mansion on Kenwood Avenue where Charles had lived his mortal years.

  Meghann remembered what Charles told her of his mortal life, that his father had been one of the robber barons of the late nineteenth century, making his fortune through steel factories and shipping. With wealth came a desire to climb and Charles's father attempted to ingratiate himself in high society through his children. Charles was sent to the best prep schools and then Harvard Medical School, only to be disowned when his disgusted father discovered his son's homosexuality.

  Charles quietly vanished from his family's life, later becoming a vampire when one of his lover's transformed him, but he kept tabs on his mortal relations and felt only pity when the 1929 crash wiped out his family's fortune. Charles, who'd only been immortal a few years then and would not stir concern by his young appearance, diffidently offered his father money enough to keep him on his feet and allow the family to retain their home. But his father wanted nothing to do with "a dirty queer's filthy money" and refused the loan.