Текст книги "The Becoming"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

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Chapter Twelve

You wanted this to happen?

Avery still has my hand. He guides me back to the chair and I sink into it. He returns to the sideboard and pours another glass of wine. Holding it out to me, he asks, How do you feel?

I take the glass, but I don't drink. Instead, I place it on the desk, my mind reeling with the implications of what I've done. I look over at Avery. He's holding a hand against his neck as if it hurts. There's blood on his collar.

"I didn't want to stop."

He smiles.

"What if I hadn't? What if I'd drained you?"

But you didn't.

"But I might have. The sensation, the pleasureof feeding ... I don't know that I will always be able to stop."

His smile widens. You can, Anna, and you will. That's why this happened.

Avery leans toward me. You needed to feed. The blood of an old soul is the most powerful and I knew you weren't likely to feed on your own. I wanted you to see that it is instinctive to feed, just as instinctive as it once was to breathe. And I wanted you to realize that you do not have to hurt or kill your host to satisfy your own needs.

But you are not mortal. You could have stopped me, I know that. You are much more powerful than I am.

For now. Your power is growing.

But what if it had been a man?

You mean, what if it had been Max?

Yes.

Whose voice did you hear telling you to stop?

My own. It was my own.

He smiles again. Your instincts kicked in as I knew they would. Becoming does not alter the type of person you are. Good or evil still exists for us. Just as you have a heartbeat, you also have a soul. You are a good person, Anna. That will not change. Only your physical realities are altered.

Then what happened to Donaldson? He had no prior history of violence in his record. How did he turn into a killer?

Avery shrugs. The image Donaldson projected to the world was much different than the reality. He had a dark side.

Unfortunately, becoming for him meant unleashing that dark side.

He pushes back from the desk and his expression hardens. His eyes become flat and, once again, unreadable. He studies me for a long moment before the spark of some indefinable emotion flares and his mind opens.

I'm glad you've been thinking of Donaldson.

I sniff. How could I not?

Do you understand what I've explained to you about the gift? Do you accept the reality?

Do I have a choice?

"You always have a choice,” he says aloud. “The question is what you choose to do with your life as it now is."

My life as it now is.

It's such a simple statement, and yet it hits me with the force of a lightning bolt. Maybe it's because I haven't had time yet to truly digest all that's happened. Maybe it's because there's some small part of me that still thinks this is a dream and I'll awaken and everything will be the same as before. Whatever the reason, I don't know what to say.

Avery nods, picking through my conflicting thoughts and emotions and responding to them. That's understandable. And I wish you had the luxury of taking your time to sort it all out. But you don't, Anna.

His tone is sad and his eyes full of concern.

It scares me. “Why do you say that?"

Avery stands and moves away from the desk. He goes to a closet where he pulls out a fresh shirt from an armoire inside. As if oblivious to my presence, he takes off his coat and tie, removes the soiled shirt and slips on a clean one. He leaves the tie on the desk, but he puts his jacket back on. All the while, his thoughts are carefully sealed away from me.

For the first time, I don't want to know what he's thinking. Fear coils around my thoughts and in the pit of my stomach. After all I've been through, what could be so terrible that he hesitates to tell me? All the remarkable strength I felt after feeding evaporates with the dread building in my chest because I realize whatever it is, he doesn't think I can handle it.

And that makes me mad.

"Avery."

He turns from the window, surprised at the sound of my voice—or rather, at my tone.

"How dare you do this to me? I've gone along with all your stupid games. I've listened to your words of wisdom and accepted what you've told me I must accept. But I won't let you make me afraid. Either you tell me what's got you so spooked, or I walk out of here right now and I won't come back."

His mouth pulls into a sour grin. “You think you are prepared to go your own way?"

"You just told me that I was. You just told me that I'm still the same person, that's it's my body, not my mind that has changed. If that's true, I don't need you to live as I always have."

A glint of amusement returns to his eyes. But his mind is still closed.

And that must stop, too.

He tweaks an eyebrow at me.

I mean it, Avery. Either you open your mind to me fully and all the time, or I shut my thoughts away from you, too.

You think you can?

I watch his face as I close my mind to him.

He doesn't believe it, at first. He keeps his eyes on mine, tries to bore into my head. I refuse to look away or to allow him access.

After a moment, I smile.

It's not so hard, is it?

He smiles back. How did you figure it out?

By being observant. You do this thing with your eyes when you shut down. You narrow them just a bit at the corners. I thought I'd try it, too. Guess it works, huh?

I soften my tone. Now, can we get down to whatever it is that has you so upset? Just give it to me straight.

Avery gestures me back to the desk. All right, Anna. Sit down, please.

I settle myself in.

You want it straight, here it is. You have to find Donaldson. And you have to kill him.

Chapter Thirteen

Maybe I shouldn't have asked him to be so direct. A laugh bubbles up. “You're kidding, right?"

Does it feel like I'm kidding?

The urge to laugh dissipates like air from a popped balloon. No. It doesn't. But it also doesn't make sense. Two minutes ago you told me I wasn't like Donaldson. Now you're telling me to find him and kill him.

He pauses, a heartbeat, then, “Have you watched any television tonight? Heard any news on the radio?"

I shake my head.

Avery's eyes are grim as his frown deepens. He places his elbows on the desk and leans towards me. Donaldson has killed again.

Two more victims were found near the border. He's getting more daring and more careless. Chief Williams has managed to keep most of the details from the press, but it won't be long before someone leaks the fact that there's a killer out there draining his victim's blood.

I'm on my feet, pacing in front of the desk. But the police are looking for Donaldson. They'll find him and bring him in.

It's not our way.

What?

We have to take care of our own, Anna. We can't risk his bringing attention to our community. Remember, I told you there are people out there who seek to destroy us. Donaldson's actions are just what these people look for. Even with Chief Williams's influence, these killings will not go unnoticed.

And my tracking him down and killing him will be?

If you're careful.

Suspicion replaces surprise in the back of my mind, especially since Avery is carefully guarding his thoughts. I let the doubt seep into my voice. “Is this a set up?"

He looks puzzled. “A set up? What do you mean?"

I wave a hand at the door. “I mean I wasn't invited to join your little flock. Maybe sending me after Donaldson is a way to get rid of me."

"If I wanted to get rid of you, Anna, I could have killed you in the hospital. You had lost a lot of blood. I could have easily drained you of the rest, and no one would have been the wiser."

The abruptness of his reply gives it a ring of truth, his thoughts confirm it.

"Then why choose me to do this? Surely there are others better qualified."

He looks at me as if I've asked a very stupid question. “Weren't you tracking Donaldson down when he attacked you? Isn't this what you do for a living?"

It's my turn to stare at him. “With a big difference. When I was tracking Donaldson, it was with the intention of turning him over to the authorities. I am willing to do that again, but I won't kill him."

Now, in spite of what he's just asked me to do, his thoughts reflect skepticism about my ability to bring Donaldson in.

I feel warmth flood my face, knowing that he's remembering how easily he overpowered me just moments before.

I will be ready this time.

He raises an eyebrow. And Donaldson will be ready for you.

How will Donaldson know?

Avery's green eyes narrow. You and he have a connection. He will be able to feel your presence long before he will be able to see you. You will be able to hide your thoughts from him, but he will sense you nonetheless. You can use that to your advantage, but it can be dangerous, too.

How so?I ask

The drawback is that he will know that there is someone close that he has turned. If you are careful to keep your thoughts from him, he will not know who it is. So far, we have been successful in keeping your name out of both police and press reports. He knows he was interrupted with you, but at the rate he's killing, he may not notice that you have been omitted from his list of victims.

And the advantages?I prompt.

You will be able to sense him, too. You will know where he has been. If you hone in on his thoughts, you will know where he is going. You can set a trap—

There is a discreet knock at the door. Avery pushes himself away from the desk and crosses the room. He opens the door just wide enough to allow him to greet his visitor without revealing my presence.

It's Police Chief Williams. His thoughts are troubled. They've found another body. I must go.

I watch Avery reach out a hand. We'll take care of this. Be assured.

Williams sighs. We'd better. We haven't had trouble like this in a long time. I like it here, Avery. I don't want to be forced to move because of this renegade. He must be dealt with.

Avery moves out of the room for a moment, pulling the door shut behind him. Then he reappears and, once more, closes the door.

I assume the maneuver was to prevent me from hearing his parting shot to the Police Chief. It doesn't matter. I've already made up my mind.

I get to my feet. “I'm leaving, too, Avery."

He tries to probe my mind. When he doesn't succeed, he frowns, eyes hard. You are choosing not to help?

"I am choosing to protect myself. You have a nice little support group here of many of San Diego's most prominent citizens. The way I see it, inviting me tonight was a way to dangle the carrot. I can become a part of this exclusive club if I perform one little task for you. The trouble is, as the newest member, I am also the most expendable. If I kill Donaldson, so much the better. If Donaldson kills me, I don't upset the balance of power. You can probably find another newly minted vampire to take my place. You say this isn't a set up. Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

Avery has grown very still. He listens intently, brows furrowed, allowing nothing of what he's feeling to come through.

It confirms that my read on the situation is correct. I move to meet him at the door and he finally opens his thoughts.

I can't force you to do this, Anna.

His tone is soft, almost seductive.

I know. That's why I'm leaving.

I won't stop you.

Avery steps back from the door . My home is forever open to you. As time goes on, you will have questions. I am, and always will be, at your service.

He sounds so formal, like he's reciting an official vampire ceremonial closing speech.

He smiles at my interpretation. Well, after three hundred years, we'll see how dated you sound.

* * *

That was far too easy.

I've got the top down on the Jag and I'm cruising west on Ardath toward home. Avery didn't try to talk me into his plan or out of leaving.

Neither of which makes sense.

But it's one in the morning, the night is cloudless and the road is deserted. I want to shake off the feeling of Avery and his band of merry vampires, so I give the Jag its head. There's nothing like the acceleration of an 8 cylinder, 390 hp supercharged engine to clear away the cobwebs.

I should know better.

The cop picks me up at the intersection of Torrey Pines and Ardath. I see him the same time he sees me, and I know that little radar gun he's pointed at me has already registered the fact that I'm speeding by at 120 mph. There's no sense in reaching for the emergency brake to try to throw him off, I simply take my foot off the gas and let the black and white catch up.

He does, lights flashing. I pull over and wait for him to come to me. I've worked with cops long enough to know you don't jump out of your car or start rummaging in your purse for your license. It makes them testy. So I sit quietly, both hands on the steering wheel like a good little girl, and watch in the rearview mirror as he approaches. He's big, thick-bodied, like a wrestler, with his cap pulled down low over his face.

He shines a flashlight in my eyes. “Good morning, Miss. Do you know why I stopped you?"

On reflex, I put up a hand to shield my eyes. “I was speeding."

He doesn't lower the flashlight. “Please put your hands back on the steering wheel."

"Please lower the flashlight. It's hurting my eyes."

He doesn't drop the light, but instead shoves it closer to my face. The glare causes sharp pinpricks of pain at the back of my eyes.

Is this another vampire peculiarity? I can go out in sunlight, but the strobe of a flashlight is intolerable?

I hear, rather than see, my car door being opened. The cop's voice is hard and brittle at my ear. “Please step out of the car,” he says.

I do, stumbling a little. It's as if the light is affecting my equilibrium as well as my sight.

"Have you been drinking, Miss?"

God. I assume he means alcohol. How much wine did I drink? I remember one glass. It's probably not wise to share that though.

“No, officer. I haven't been drinking. It's that light in my eyes that's causing the problem. Is it really necessary to blind me?"

He must take umbrage at my tone, because before I can say anything else, his hands dig into my shoulders and he's turning me so that I'm facing my car. He jerks my hands together behind my back.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you in,” he says, snapping cuffs on my wrists.

It happens so fast that I don't have time to react. “You're arrestingme?” I squeak, outrage notching my voice up an octave. “For what?"

I still haven't seen his face. I try to turn but he doesn't let me.

"Driving under the influence, Miss,” he says, shoving me toward his car.

I dig my heels in. “Wait a minute. Don't you have to give me a sobriety test or something? I tell you, I'm not drunk."

But even if I were, the muzzle of the gun pressed into the small of my back would have sobered me up fast enough. “What are you doing?"

"Get into the car, bitch,” he says, his voice full of venom. “Or I'll stake you right here."

Chapter Fourteen

He's human; I feel it. One of those anti-watchers Avery warned me about? I stop fighting and let him manhandle me into the back seat of the car. I don't know what a bullet will do to me, and I'm not sure this is the time to find out. I figure my best chance to get away will be when we get to wherever it is he plans to take me. I'm willing to bet it won't be jail.

He's stopped talking. He sweeps the cap off his head and tosses it into the back seat beside me. Then he's behind the wheel. He throws me an over-the-shoulder glance through the mesh of the wire partition separating us. “Relax,” he says. “We're going for a ride."

I settle back into the seat, working at the cuffs. They're standard police issue. If I had my purse, I could use my own handcuff key to free myself. Unfortunately, it's in the trunk of my car.

"Aren't you going to let me get my purse?” I ask. “It's in the car."

He ignores the request as he guides the police car back onto the road. He makes a U-turn at the first opportunity, and we're soon cruising north on Torrey Pines road. Away from downtown San Diego and jail.

"Where are you taking me?"

I may as well be talking to myself. Once again, he doesn't answer. He doesn't even act as if he's heard.

"Somewhere dark and deserted, I imagine,” I continue anyway. “You'll need privacy for what you have in mind. Around here that would be what—the State Park?"

His eyes flash back in the mirror, but then he must remember—vampire—and he stops looking.

But I can see him. The streetlights cast enough illumination for me to study his face. He's younger than I am, with short-cropped blond hair and a jutting chin. “Are you even a real cop?"

That brings a smile to his full lips. “Yeah. I'm a real cop. I'm here to protect and serve. Getting rid of vermin like you is my favorite part of the job."

I think back to what Avery said. “And you get a bounty for each vampire you dust, right? How do you prove the kill? Is there a little red Dustbuster back here somewhere?"

"You're a real smart-ass, aren't you?” The blue eyes harden. “They'll find your car tomorrow morning. Your ID is inside. When it's learned that you've vanished, that will be all the confirmation I need."

"So it's only been forty-eight hours, and I've already been identified as a vampire,” I say. “I'm impressed. How do you get your information?"

But he doesn't reply. In fact, the rest of the ride he remains silent, doesn't even glance back again. So I use the time to test the cuffs, twisting my wrists to see if I can slip my hands out. No dice. I try to wriggle myself down in the seat, thinking if I can maneuver my hands in front, I'll have a better chance to defend myself. But I can't do that without making it obvious what I'm up to, and then I'll lose the element of surprise.

I remain slouched, watching his eyes in the mirror. The mirror. I can see him but he can't see me. I've transformed enough to have lost my reflection. Let's see if I can make that work for me.

I've never been especially limber. I take Yoga more for the mental benefits than physical, but damned if I don't manage to get my hands under my butt, then gradually to pull one leg at a time through my handcuffed wrists. I move slowly, so slowly not even a rustle of silk gives away what I'm doing in that back seat. The cop never glances back. It's so easy, I wonder if flexibility isn't another vampire physiological anomaly.

I scoot over so that I'm sitting in the corner, close to the door. “So, how many vampire notches do you have on your gun belt?"

He doesn't answer.

I'm going to bet it's not many or I wouldn't have been able to do what I just did. I almost wish this mind thing worked with humans so I could get inside his head and tell him what a stupid asshole he really is. I'm going to enjoy springing myself on him, seeing the shocked look in those baby blues as I—

My thoughts are cut short as we take the turnoff to Torrey Pines State Park. The cop cruises by the gate with a two-finger salute to the ranger on duty. I almost yell out, knowing the dark tint of the windows in the back of the cruiser prevents the ranger from seeing that this cop is taking a civilian into the park. Not an everyday occurrence, I would think. But the cop doesn't slow down and the opportunity is gone before I can.

Just another thing I'll have to thank this idiot for when I get out of here. I wonder what a cop's blood tastes like—

Wait a minute. What am I doing? I'm just going to get away. I'm not going to linger for a midnight snack, even though he certainly deserves a little bite.

The car pulls deeper into the park. We're off the main road and through the campground, winding through the sparse forest of spectral shapes known as the Torrey Pines. These trees are frozen in perpetual static motion, bent as though buffeted by ghostly sea winds, even on a still night. It's a dark, creepy place and a feeling of foreboding settles in my bones. I've never been this far into the forest, but I hear the ocean pounding somewhere far below and know we must be coming to the end of the road. My recollection of a map of the park showed it dead ends at the cliffs. This would certainly be a private enough spot to perform whatever ghastly ritual this guy had in mind.

I sit up straighter in the seat, prepare myself for the get away. The best time to make a run for it will be the minute he opens the door, before he has time to register the fact that I have the use of my hands. I will throw my weight upon it as soon as I hear the lock release and push it hard enough to make him lose his balance. Then I'll beat it into the trees. I remember how fast Donaldson and Avery were. I can only hope that's a hereditary trait among vampires.

I compose myself. I'm immortal now, according to Avery. Kin to Lestat, and Count Dracula. Hell, maybe even a cousin of Spike—

my favorite vampire character. And he's cute, too, to boot. Buffy never treated him right. Maybe it's not an act with James Marsters. Look at those cheekbones. Maybe he really is—

You're not taking this very seriously.

The voice is so unexpected, I literally jump in the seat. “What?” I squeak before I realize that I've spoken out loud.

My eyes spring to the cop, but if he heard me, he isn't acting like it. His eyes are still on the road.

Avery?

No, not Avery. And I said, you're not taking this very seriously. What's the matter with you?

The tone is offensive. I have a short attention span, I shoot back. It's been a problem my whole life.

Well, if you don't pull yourself together, it won't be a problem much longer.

My head is reeling with this new intrusion into my thoughts. My eyes find the mirror. It's not the cop. He's staring straight ahead.

Besides, what sense would that make?

I try to probe, but nothing comes through. Who are you?

Not important. What is important is that you get your wits about you. This guy will not be alone. They never are.

Where are you? Are you here to help?

I'm not close enough to be of physical aid. You're going to have to do this on your own. Do you have a plan?

I tell him what I've come up with.

It might work. But you'll have to act quickly, and once you're free, run like hell. Don't look back. I'll be waiting for you on the road outside the park entrance.

How will I know who you are?

I'll be driving your car.

What? That's a ninety thousand dollar automobile. You'd better not—

But the car is slowing and I'm jerked out of my dimwitted retort. I must be crazy, worried about my car when there's a bunch of lunatics waiting to make sure I never drive the damned thing again.

He's right, I scold myself. Pull yourself together.

It's a good thing I do. The unfamiliar voice in my brain warned me that the cop would not be acting alone. He is right about that, too. There are three figures outlined in the car headlights as we approach. One is holding a burning torch.

Is that how they plan to kill me?

Adrenaline and rage turn my blood to fire. I watch the cop's face as he stops the car and turns in the seat to look at me. Surprise flashes, replaced by a smug contempt.

"Well, you've been busy, haven't you? But no matter. We're about to have a little bonfire. It's chilly out there, but I'm sure you'll be warm enough."

He's stalling while his pals advance on the car. Two on the left, one on the right. A little hint of fear replaces some of the anger churning my stomach. Can I take two of these guys at once? I hadn't planned on a welcoming party.

Your strength, the voice reassures me. Use your strength.

All at once, I know. Instead of waiting for them to get to the car, I turn. I brace myself against the front seat and kick at the back window as hard as I can.

Nothing.

I hear the cop yelling in my ear. He can't reach me through the wire partition. I kick out again, this time willing every ounce of strength into my legs. With a sharp crack, the window pops out. I see from the corner of my eye the two men on my left. One of them is shouting and fumbling at the door.

But I'm already vaulting out the back window, scooting over the trunk, scrambling toward the trees. I feel a rush of air and hear angry voices behind me.

Then I'm running, flying over and through the forest.

The voice said not to look back. That's no problem. I'm too afraid to look back.