Текст книги "The Becoming"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A vamp doctor has David.

Nothing Lawson could have said rocks me like that one statement.

The implication is clear. My rational mind tells me that with all the vampires in San Diego, Avery may not be the only doctor.

But as far as I know, he's the only one who can connect David with me.

Why would Avery kidnap David? And if he did, is he also responsible for the fire?

None of this makes sense.

I glance at the clock on the dashboard. It's almost two in the afternoon. Avery said he'd be at the hospital until six. At least I'll have some time to search the house before he returns.

Avery.

My heart lies heavy in my chest. I thought we had a bond. More than the sex and blood thing. He appeared to be helping me—first in finding Donaldson and then, David. Otherwise, what was the point of Beso de la Muerte?

Unless he thought I'd be killed there, too.

Could I really have been so wrong about him?

The driveway is empty when I pull up. This time, I drive around back, to the garage area. It's a stone structure, like the house, with three heavy iron doors to mark parking pads. I press a remote in the Explorer and one of the doors glides up. I pull the car inside and close it behind me.

There's one other vehicle inside—a restored Thunderbird from the 60's. The top is down and the tuck and roll upholstery shines in the overhead light. I run a finger over the leather, wondering if someone who could so lovingly restore a beautiful automobile like this be monster enough to put me in this much pain.

I check the garage out quickly. There are no trap doors leading underground, no hidden loft areas above. If David is somewhere on the premises, it's got to be in the house.

There's a covered portico leading from the garage to the back door. In case the housekeeper is still inside, I ring the bell. I think I remember Avery saying she only comes in the mornings and when no one answers, I let myself in.

It's so quiet. I find myself tiptoeing from one room to the other. On the ground floor, there's the kitchen, dining room, library, living room. I can't find any other outside doors except the ones that lead to the balcony and deck areas and the front door off the foyer.

There's no basement door, either, in spite of his joke this morning about keeping servants down below to drain their blood.

With a sick feeling, I find myself questioning if it was a joke. I almost retch at the thought that I might have been drinking David's blood. But a stronger, more virulent feeling overtakes the nausea. If Avery fed me David's blood, I'll kill him.

I've only been in two rooms upstairs, Avery's bedroom and the guestroom where Avery put my things. There are four other bedrooms up here, all expensively furnished in antiques, all tastefully appointed with drapes and carpets in muted earth tones. None of them look as if they've been used recently. In fact, all the closets are bare, the drawers empty. It's like walking through a designer showcase. Even the pictures on the dressers are fake—pretty frames with dime store photographs.

It dawns on me that there's nothing personal in Avery's bedroom either. I guess after hundreds of years, there's nothing personal left.

Is that what I have to look forward to?

I shake off the maudlin flood threatening to drown me and keep looking. At each end of the long hall that separates the bedrooms, there's a door. The one on the left leads to a back stairway. I follow it down to the kitchen. Then return to try the other one. It leads up.Evidently there's an attic.

The door at the top of these stairs is locked. I'm filled with apprehension. I press my ear to the door, but there's no sound. I knock and call out, “David?"

Nothing.

I put my shoulder against the door and shove. There's a splintering of wood and the door gives way. As soon as I step inside, I'm greeted with an unfamiliar odor—one of must and decay. Even not having to draw breath keeps me from gagging. It's a reflex. The atmosphere in the room is suffocating.

Cautiously, I look around, mouth open, trying to gauge the source of the smell. It seems to come from a wall of chests, stacked near the top of the gables. As I approach, the smell gets stronger. Each chest looks different, but the size is pretty much the same.

A little bigger than an old fashioned steamer trunk. There are eight or nine, some made of wood with metal hinges rusted with age, some made of more modern materials with brass or plastic hinges.

The most modern looking of all is also the one nearest my grasp. It's a plain, wooden affair with shiny hinges. There's a picture painted on the top, a portrait of a girl with golden hair standing in a window. She looks about twenty and her smile is full of joy and youth. She has on an old fashioned jumper and her hair falls in luxuriant curls to her shoulders. The portrait is so lifelike, it could be a photograph instead of a painting.

Something compels me to open this trunk, to see what lies beneath such a charming picture. My hand shakes as I release the catch.

Before I see it, I know what it is . It's more than the odor, it's the feelof death. There are photographs inside, daguerreotypes brown with age, a lock of hair, a scrap of clothing.

And human remains.

A desiccated corpse that must have been lying here for years. Suddenly, I know why Avery said what he did the other night.

In the union between vampire and mortal, it's the vampire that suffers.

He was speaking from personal experience. I've found Avery's heart. Here in this attic, three hundred years of mortal lovers lost while the vampire continues unchanged and untouched by anything save this realization.

But there's another realization that hits me, too.

Like a knife in the chest.

David is not here.

Lawson either misunderstood or lied about his kidnapper being a vamp doctor.

And I've invaded Avery's privacy in a way I know he'll never forgive.

I don't know what to do. I retreat from the attic mausoleum, softly closing the ruined door behind me. Avery will know at a glance that someone has been here. The idea that he lives with the mortal remains of those he's loved should repulse me. Instead, I'm filled with sadness and foreboding. Sadness because he clings to all that's left of love lost, and foreboding because I'm afraid it reflects something of my own future. I know now it's not a casket filled with earth from the mother country a vampire carries with him from one place to the other.

Seeking refuge in the guestroom, I stretch out on the bed to think. Avery is not due home for hours. I don't think I can wait that long. After a few moments, I find the paper he's given me with his hospital number and dial.

His receptionist answers, and when I tell her my name, I hear the smile in her voice.

"He's on his way home, Anna. He said he had a guest waiting for him. I must tell you, you've certainly put a spring in his step. He's not the same man he was a week ago."

I put the receiver down softly. And he won't be the same man tomorrow, either.

Chapter Thirty

I'm downstairs in the living room when I hear Avery's car pull up. He drives around to the back, the same way I did, so I meet him at the kitchen door.

He smiles when he sees me, but the smile quickly fades. “What's wrong? Things didn't go well with Williams?"

Williams. I'd forgotten about him. So much happened after.

It's easier to let him pick the story out of my brain than to try to recount it. I “tell” him everything, right up until the time Lawson's story about a vamp doctor kidnapping David sends my world into a tailspin.

He senses there's more. What aren't you telling me?

I take him by the hand and lead him into the living room. I know I need to sit down for the rest of it. I imagine he will, too, after I've told him what I've done.

We take seats on the couch. I purposely leave distance between us. “I thought you were the one."

Confusion draws his brows together, pulls at the corners of his mouth. “The one?"

It takes him only a minute to understand. Then a dark, implacable expression settles on his face. “You thought I kidnapped David?

Why on earth would you think that?"

"Lawson. He told me a vamp doctor had David. That he was taken to punish a newbie—for what, he didn't know. But suddenly all I could think of was you and I. You're a doctor, I've just become a vampire. It all fit. I just couldn't figure out why you'd want to do it."

Avery is very quiet. His thoughts shut off from me. But it takes no effort to interpret the emotions playing across his face. There's disbelief and the beginning of anger.

"How could you think I'd do something like that to you?"

I hold up a hand. Avery, there's more.

He grows very still, his eyes boring into mine as I let him learn the rest. I hope by doing it this way, he'll feel the shame and regret as well as hear the words.

But there's no way I can predict the depth of his rage as he learns how I violated his most inner sanctum. A wave of furious energy propels me against the arm of the couch as he leaps to his feet. He moves so fast, it's like watching a wisp of smoke blown out of the room by a turbulent gust of air. I hear thunderous footsteps on the back stairs and the grinding of broken wood as he wrenches open of the attic door. Then there's silence, profound and terrible.

And I'm left alone and afraid.

Chapter Thirty-One

The silence stretches on. Ten minutes. Then fifteen, and twenty. When I can no longer stand the wait, I force myself up the stairs.

Avery is standing at the window, his back to me.

I'm sorry.It's all I can think to say.

He doesn't answer. Doesn't move. His mind is a black void, empty and cold. I've never felt anything like it. Even the temperature in the room has fallen. I find myself shivering, despite the bright sun, and know it's Avery who is doing it.

I have only one excuse,I begin again. I was desperate to help David. He is my friend, and I must try to save him. Williams offered nothing but the possibility that he might be able to make some kind of deal with the Revengers. When I saw Lawson on the beach, I thought I might be able to make my own deal. What Lawson told me—

Avery's voice cuts in, quiet and controlled. You believed I kidnapped David. You came here and searched my house and broke into a sacred place without first coming to me. You did all this despite what's happened between us.

His back is still to me, and despite the dark energy emanating from him, the need to be closer compels me forward. I stand beside him, so close we almost touch, but unbidden, I can't take the chance to reach out.

That's a wise decision, he tells me.

Avery. You must understand my position. You've been a wonderful teacher. I don't think I would have survived the changes without you. But David is my friend. I can't let him die without a fight. I won't. You talk about our natures. It's not in mine to abandon him.

I feel Avery move before my eyes register it. One moment he's next to me at the window, the next he's across the room, one hand resting on the casket of the young girl.

"This was my wife, Marianna.” His tone is weary, his voice sounds ageless and old. “We met when she was a girl in the early nineteen hundreds. I didn't want to fall in love with her. Her father was a patient at the hospital where I practiced. He had tuberculosis, a death sentence in those days. His wife had already succumbed to the disease and there was nothing I could do to help save render him comfortable and free of pain. He knew he was dying. He begged me to look after his daughter because she had no one else and I agreed. When I saw her for the first time, at his funeral, I knew I was lost."

His fingers trace the delicate lines of the portrait. “She was so beautiful. Pure of heart and spirit. It had been a long time since I allowed myself to form an attachment to a mortal. I was more vulnerable than she. Still, despite my apprehension, I let myself fall in love. It was glorious at first. It was glorious until she learned of my ‘nature.’ She was twenty-five when she killed herself."

His eyes, clouded with visions of the past, clear and darken dangerously when he fixes them on me. Don't speak to me of

“nature,” Anna. You have no idea what lies in store for you. The sooner you learn to separate yourself from the affairs of mortals, the better it will be.

I don't understand you, Avery. You certainly have not separated yourself from mortals—you're a doctor.

He waves a dismissive hand. My vain attempt to make amends for a hundred years of indiscretion. It took me that long to realize I wanted to live in harmony with men, not prey on them. Becoming a doctor enables me to do that without becoming involved.

But there are caskets here to attest to the fact that you didn't always feel that way. You've fallen in love with mortals again and again.

"To my eternal regret,” he thunders.

The sound of his voice makes me jump. “I'll probably feel the same way in a hundred years,” I say quietly. “But first, I have a friend who has been missing for twenty-four hours. If you can't or won't help me anymore, I understand. But I'll find David, and if there is a vampire involved in his disappearance, he'll regret it, I promise you."

So now you think Williams is involved.

He's picked it out of my head before I realize I'm actually thinking it. Yes. He's the only other person who knows of our connection. I think you should know what he told me today. All of it.

I let him sort through the things Williams said. When I recall his comments about Avery wanting me gone, he stiffens.

"I never told him I wanted you to leave."

"Well, there's obviously a reason he wants me out of the way. Do you have any idea what that might be?"

Avery considers the question, leaving his mind open to allow me to follow his probe. But he shakes his head after a moment.

There is nothing in your becoming a vampire to threaten Williams. He is an old soul. Almost as old as I am. You are mistaken about him.

No.

I've taken a step back from Avery. I may not know everything about him, but there's something not right about Williams. He lied to me about your feelings, for one thing. If it's true I don't threaten him in any way, why does he want me to believe you think I would be better off gone? It's the one argument he could make that might convince me.

I've already told you,Avery counters stiffly. I never said I wanted you to leave.

Then what is it? What is it about me that threatens him?

Avery moves toward the door . I don't want to stay in this room any longer. I'm going back downstairs.

He waits for me to pass by him, pulling the door shut behind us, before he adds, Any questions you have for Williams, you can ask him yourself. He'll be here in thirty minutes.

* * *

It's a long thirty minutes. Avery disappears into the library, leaving me alone to wait in the living room with nothing but my thoughts.

I've exhausted all of my options. Donaldson is dead, Lawson says the Revengers had nothing to do with David's kidnapping, and I seem to have alienated my best and only ally, Avery. Will he allow me to go after Williams? Or will he stop me from doing what I know I must?

When the doorbell rings and Avery doesn't appear to answer it, I go myself to the door. Williams is dressed as he was this morning, even has another cigar in his hand. He seems surprised to see me.

"I expected Avery."

"Why?” I counter. “You and I had the appointment, remember?"

He shrugs and pushes by me. “Is he here?"

"Does it make a difference?"

He tries to get into my head, but I don't let him. And I know he can't sense Avery's presence, house “security” would prevent that.

Very well. It's probably better if we speak in private anyway.

He leads the way to the living room. With the air of someone very much at home, he crosses to the sideboard opposite the fireplace and reaches underneath for glasses and a decanter. He raises a glass in my direction. “Would you care for a drink?"

I shake my head and watch as he pours himself a healthy two fingers. Even at this distance, I can tell what it is by the rich oak smell.

Scotch.

Williams takes a sip and smiles approvingly. Avery always has the best.

He seats himself on the couch, crosses one leg over the other and looks at me. Are you going to sit down or do you plan to hover over me all evening?

I don't plan to do anything with you all evening. Tell me what you've learned.

A little wrinkle of impatience creases his brow. You really must learn to slow down. If you're lucky, you'll live a very, very long time. However if you insist on rushing full speed ahead toward every little problem that presents itself, well, I'm afraid that might prove to be your undoing.

Little problem? I've taken a step toward him. Outrage exudes like sweat from every pore of my body. It's overwhelming, this blind fury, something I've never before experienced, and it scares me.

Williams, however seems unaffected and certainly unafraid. The only reaction to my exhibition of temper is a raised eyebrow. See what I mean? You'll burn yourself out if you continue this way. I've seen it happen.

He's toying with me.

I know it. I should be able to deal with it. But too much has happened to me in the last few days, too many mental and physical changes with no chance to adapt. All the anger, frustration and fear boil to the surface. One moment I'm human, the next, animal.

With no thought except that I want to wipe that smug look off Williams face, I lunge at him, teeth and nails bared.

The ferocity of the attack knocks him off balance. He is not prepared for such a physical reaction. The glass flies from his hand, and his arms go up to shield his face. But he is older and stronger and when the shock of the unexpected wears off, he begins to fight back.

I know at once I can't win against him. Unlike Donaldson, he is a skilled fighter. He flips me onto my back and I'm pinned under him like an insect on the head of a pin. His lips roll back to expose sharp teeth, one hand is at my jugular.

What did I tell you?He hisses into my head. Impatience will be your undoing.

I look into his eyes. He will kill me, wantsto kill me, and I am powerless to save myself.

I close my eyes, lift my chin to proffer the pulsing artery like a gift. I want it over. I can't save David. I can't save myself.

Suddenly, I just want it over.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Williams's teeth are at my neck. He's snarling and snapping at me, coming closer and pulling away as if wanting to prolong my fear.

Smiling as he enjoys the taste of it.

The smile is what pulls me back. It releases the hold he has on my mind. I can't, I won't, let him kill me. In a last desperate effort to save myself, I gather strength to push against him. But his power is inexorable and relentless. He is an old soul. I understand in a flash that it is centuries of consuming the most essential of all life force—living blood—that gives him this capability. It is what he will use, finally, to kill me.

Unless.

I have Avery's blood coursing through my veins, don't I?

He is a most powerful vampire, older even than Williams. He is the only creature I have fed from. Can I channel his energy for my own use?

I let my body relax for a moment, clear all thoughts out of my head.

Williams senses a change, pulls back a little as if to watch. His eyes narrow, his face feral and dangerous. Then he lunges again, and my instinct tells me he's tired of this game. He's ready for the kill.

But I'm ready, too. My blood is on fire now, my thoughts centered. I parry his thrust, get an arm between his face and my neck and push.

He flies off me and crashes into the coffee table. The splintering of wood and breaking of glass is lost in the howl of rage that escapes his lips. He pulls himself upright, all vestiges of humanity gone. I'm facing the animal now, too, and for a split second, terror is all I have.

But I recover quickly. I remember how it was with Lawson, how the vampire can swallow up the human, and I let it happen. I face Williams if not as an equal, then as the more desperate. I have nothing to lose, no inhibition about attacking a mortal to hinder me the way it did with Lawson. This will be a fight to the death. I use that realization to propel me forward.

When our bodies hit, it's with the force of a head-on collision between two semis. I dig my heels in and push him backward, for the first time cognizant of the fact that I might be stronger. He fights against it, but I don't let up. I want him on the ground, beneath me, subject to the same fear I felt moments before. I let him read that in my mind, see the flash of understanding bloom in his eyes. He knows I can do it. He knows I've fed from Avery.

But there's no fear. Only a sense of betrayal and regret that's quickly swallowed up by angry resolve. He has more reason than ever to want me dead.

Why? I back him into the stone hearth of the fireplace. Why do you want me dead?

He tries to shake me off. When he can't, he snarls at me like a wild dog. You are a threat.

A threat to what?

He continues to fight against me, but I have my arm across his jugular and the pressure is beginning to take its toll. His eyes roll back, his mind becomes a black void.

I loosen my grip, shake his shoulders. No. Stay with me. Tell me what I want to know.

Williams eyes clear, his gaze refocuses. I can't help you.

I shake him again. What about David? Who has him?

His mind closes. It triggers another flash of rage deep inside me. I throw him onto the rug, pin him as he did me. But I don't tease. I rip into the soft skin at his jugular and drink.

An intoxicating, heady rush of explosive color and sound and emotion rips into me. Different from Avery, but the same. Not sexual, but basic. Williams's life experience, his memories, his history, are all there for the taking. And I do take it all. I let it flow into and through me. I crawl into his mind and nest there. I strain his thoughts like flour through a sifter until I find what I need to know.

Only then do I stop feeding.

He does not have David. He doesn't know who does.

I pull back and shake his shoulders to get his attention. He has long since stopped fighting me. His mind is open, lethargic. I read something I don't expect. His acceptance of death. You want me to finish it?

He opens his eyes. You are the stronger. Do what you will.

Again, I'm caught off guard. I don't understand. You have lived for centuries. You are ready now to die?

I am ready to accept your will.

He speaks as if in prayer to a deity. Something in his tone, in his complete acquiescence rocks me. Why do you say that?

He reaches up a hand and grasps me behind the back of my neck, gently pulling me toward him. His voice is a whisper in my ear. You have the power now. Finish it.

I recoil as if hit, rearing back to search his face. What do you mean?

He nods, smiling, a sad, sweet smile. Avery was right. You are the one.

The one?

Ask him.

And then he's gone. It's like nothing I've experienced before. His mind closes utterly and completely, like the flat line when brain death occurs. His eyes are open and staring, his body rigid.

I open my mouth to scream and Avery is there.