Текст книги "Cloud City"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Jonathan stops. The story of his becoming provoked in him a far different response than the story of mine does in me. His voice is filled with wonder reflecting the depth of feeling he still has for the woman who turned him. I was taken by force by a rogue who intended to rape and kill me. The only thing I feel for that bastard is hatred.

Jonathan’s story raises so many questions. Why did they part ways? What became of Leticia? Is she still alive? My head swims with possibilities. Vampire relationships seem short-lived at best despite the prospect of immortality making ‘til death do you part’ more than just a cliché. Or maybe it’s because the prospect of spending eternity with one person too often becomes a cliché of another sort: familiarity breeding contempt.

Sophie shatters the fragile shell of silence with a snort. “So the story you had me write was a lie. Prendergast is right. Your fortune belongs to him, the human descendant.”

I blink over at her. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

She glares at me. “Isn’t it obvious? Jonathan isn’t a blood relative. He’s not even a bastard child. He’s the product of an unholy alliance between a vampire whore and –”

She stops suddenly with a gasp, clasping her hands to her midsection and doubling over.

Jonathan’s fury radiates outward, a rabid, raging storm that he is using to cause Sophie physical pain. I’m frozen in shock. I didn’t know he was capable of such a thing.

Sophie has fallen back on the bed, drawn her body into a fetal position. She is moaning, a terrible keening sound that sets my teeth on edge. It rouses me to action. I start for her, sending a message to Jonathan, yelling at him to stop.

Suddenly, the tone and timbre of Sophie’s cries change.

She sits up, eyes flashing, the guttural sounds from her throat morphing into a language I don’t understand. Her words spew forth like a geyser, as if by the sheer force of their intensity they are unleashing an internal defense against Jonathan’s attack. She is no longer in pain. She is wresting control from Jonathan.

She is casting a spell. I feel Jonathan’s presence slip away as she continues the incantation. Her eyes are closed, her hands clasped in supplication. I don’t recognize her. An aura of magic, dark and ominous, surrounds her. Her face is a mask of grim determination, all vestiges of softness and compassion gone. The Sophie who saved my friends and was willing to sacrifice her life to right a wrong committed by her sister is swallowed up by this other. Watching her, dread chills my bones. At this moment, she reminds me of Belinda, the black magic witch who stopped at nothing to get her way.

A shiver of repulsion makes me move away from the creature on the bed. Even vampire is reluctant to interfere. We can only watch and wait and hope reason returns to Sophie before it is too late.

I remember what Jonathan said. If he dies, Sophie does, too. Is she aware that her own fate is tied to his? And what if Jonathan is wrong? What if she can rid herself of him and continue on as before? Would she revert to her real age? Would she care? The frustration I felt in her makes me believe that life or death may make no difference to her. Her only goal is to be free.

Finally, the chanting stops. Sophie’s body relaxes as she slumps back against the pillows. The sphere of sinister light that surrounded her is gone. Her eyes remain closed, but her face softens. A small smile touches the corners of her mouth.

“Sophie?”

Her eyes open, her expression is at once surprised to see that I’m still in the room and pleased that I am. “I did it,” she says. “How long?”

At first I’m confused by the question, but then a flash of understanding. “Five minutes. Maybe less.”

The smile widens. “I’m getting better. The first time it took almost twenty minutes and I was exhausted after.” She stretches, languid as a cat. “I feel fine.”

“Jonathan?”

“He’s where he can’t hurt me. I think he may be gone longer, too. The magic felt more potent. It was wonderful.”

I don’t know how to respond. “Is he aware?” I ask.

A shrug of indifference. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“How did you learn to do that without Jonathan knowing?”

She smiles again, this time a smile of conspiratorial slyness. “When we were writing the book. He’d delve into his memories, lost in his own world, leaving me free to do some research of my own.”

“Research?”

“I was a practicing witch, remember, as was my mother and grandmother before me. I have texts and journals from before the Salem witch trials, hidden by my family down through the ages.”

“Were some of them Belinda’s?”

A furtive glance as elusive as her ambiguous answer, “Maybe.”

I push aside the dark foreboding creeping into my head like an icy fog and concentrate on the more immediate problem: Prendergast. Jonathan will have to wait it out in his isolation cell.

“What do we do about Prendergast?”

That elicits a real smile. “Easy,” she says. “We tell him the truth. The real story now that we know it. And I turn all of Jonathan’s holdings over to him.”

CHAPTER NINE

At first I think she’s joking. But that’s not a “gotcha” smile, but a triumphant one.

“You can’t do that.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Of course I can. Jonathan made me his heir. I figure this solves all our problems. Prendergast will go away satisfied and I will go back to living the way I did before Jonathan took over.”

“You don’t think Jonathan will have something to say about giving his fortune to this stranger?”

“Jonathan won’t have anything to say. Now that I know how to silence him temporarily, it’s only a matter of time before I learn how to do it permanently.”

“Think this through, Sophie. What if banishing Jonathan banishes you as well?”

“Then I will still have accomplished my goal. I’ll be free.”

The unconcerned way she says it makes me think there’s more to her plan than she’s willing to share. The cagey look in her eyes, though, says grilling her about it is useless.

“What do we do now?”

“I think Prendergast should learn about his grandmother where it all happened. Do you know The Matchless is in the same building where Leticia had her brothel? She had the whole building then, of course, but the dining room was actually the saloon.”

It doesn’t hit me until I hear Sophie talking about The Matchless. Then a light goes on and I stare at her in disbelief. “You knew the truth about Jonathan’s story?”

The look she shoots me is full of contempt. “Jonathan thinks I can’t read his thoughts or shield mine from him. I learned early on how to do it.”

“Then why did you go along with the book idea?”

She waves a hand. “Because this has got to stop. I can’t live like this anymore.” She draws a breath. “The idea didn’t come to me until I met the editor and learned who he was. Until then, I thought if I placated Jonathan, maybe he’d leave me in peace. I’d help him publish his damned book and make a deal with him. I’d give him the book tour and travel he craved and in return, he’d promise to remove himself from my life for the same number of months.”

“It changed when you met Prendergast.”

Excitement lights her face. “It got better. I wasn’t crazy about his shooting at me. But the rest…I couldn’t have dreamed up a more perfect plan. If all goes well, tonight will be the end of it.”

“Tonight?”

“It’s all arranged. I did it before you arrived this morning. After Jonathan finished threatening me with all sorts of dire consequences should I try to get rid of him again.” A triumphant gleam brightens her eyes. “He tired himself out, I guess, because he left me alone. That’s when I did it. Called the manager over at The Matchless. We’re taking over the place at eleven tonight. For a private party. Then I called Prendergast. He sounded nervous.” She laughs, nodding in my direction. “Now I know why. Anyway, he agreed to come, too.”

“And what about Jonathan? Will he be there?”

“If he behaves himself.”

I should have given Sophie more credit. Jonathan should have given her more space. I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight but vampire will be on the alert.

Whatever Sophie’s grand plan, she’s made her feeling about vampires crystal clear.

I don’t intend to become a sacrificial lamb.

* * *

There isn’t a lot to do in Leadville. The day drags with leaden boots. The hotel does have a library, though, so I ensconce myself on a big, upholstered chair by a window and do a little research of my own.

Leadville’s history is reminiscent of so many boom and bust towns in the west. Originally called Cloud City (fitting considering the elevation,) first gold, then silver were mined until economies change and the silver bust of 1893 sent miners scrambling for greener pastures. But the town lived on, becoming known as a tourist destination because of quaint celebrations like Burro Days and earlier, the spectacular Ice Palace once the jewel of the ongoing Crystal Carnival.

I also learned who Horace and Baby Doe Tabor were and their sad but romantic ties to Leadville.

I scoured the books for pictures, particularly pictures taken around the time Leticia opened her brothel. I paged through two books before I found one.

A daguerreotype, yellow and brittle with age, taken from a museum collection. There were three girls in the picture, but only Leticia is named. The three are dressed in frilly white gowns, looking as virginal and innocent as the snow capped peaks behind them. I can’t help but wonder if the photographer brought the gowns with him, romanticizing a life that was anything but.

The caption names Leticia as owner of the building, mentioning the saloon but little else. When I study her face, I can see why Jonathan would have been attracted to the petite, blonde with an hourglass figure and long curls. She had a hat on with a floppy brim and she was twirling a parasol and grinning right at the camera. Evidently the old form of photography captured vampire images just as digital cameras do now.

I wonder if she’s still alive.

I wonder what Jonathan would feel if he saw this picture.

I wonder if Jonathan will be around much longer to feel anything at all.

CHAPTER TEN

Sophie calls at ten forty-five to ask if I want to walk with her to The Matchless. There’s a moment where I have to question why she wants me with her tonight. If I have a part to play in Sophie’s scheme, she hasn’t made that clear. The only good reason for me to go along is a nagging worry that whatever she has planned, it might backfire. She might be a powerful witch, but she can be stopped by a bullet. Prendergast has tried it before. He might decide if he can’t take his vengeance out on a vampire, she’ll do just as well. Particularly since he doesn’t know what she intends to propose.

The bar is emptying as we approach. There’s a lot of grumbling from disgruntled locals being evicted from a favorite drinking spot. Evidently it doesn’t happen often.

“How much did you pay to get this place to yourself?” I ask Sophie.

“A lot,” she replies. “But it’s Jonathan’s money so who cares? It may be the last of it I ever spend.”

She’s much too enthused by the prospect. “Is he with us?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet. But he will be when the time is right.”

“Which means?”

“You’ll see.”

The last of the patrons files by. The bartender has been holding the door and when he sees us, he gestures for us to enter.

“All yours,” he says. He holds up a key. “Just lock up when you’re finished. The kitchen is off limits, but help yourself to anything in the bar.”

Sophie exchanges the key in his hand for a check that she’s pulled from a big leather purse. I just get a glimpse, but there are a lot of zeroes scrawled above Sophie’s signature. “What shall I do with the key when we’re done?” she asks.

“Leave it at the front desk in your hotel. I’ll pick it up in the morning.”

He is on his way out when Prendergast is on his way in. He blocks the door, looking over his shoulder at Sophie with a questioning quirk of bushy eyebrows. She nods and he waves Prendergast in.

“Best lock up after me and shut off the lights,” is his parting shot. “Or folks will be pounding on the door all night.”

Sophie crosses the room and turns the deadbolt with a snap. She also reaches over and shuts off the neon “Open” sign and the bank of lights illuminating the front of the bar. The room plunges into semi-darkness, the only light filtering from the dining area behind us.

Prendergast hasn’t taken his eyes off me since coming in. He stands as far away from me as he can, too, his back pressed against the end of the bar.

“Why is she here?” he asks. “You didn’t tell me she’d be here.”

But Sophie is busy pulling things out of a big canvas tote she brought from the hotel. Black candles. Crystals. Herbs tied in bundles. A vial of clear liquid. Chalk.

The skin on the back of my neck begins to prickle. She’s preparing to cast a spell.

“Sophie, what are you doing?”

She ignores me the way she did Prendergast. She clears a space in the middle of the room by pushing chairs out of the way. Chalk in hand, she gets down on her knees, begins to draw a pentagram.

“What is she doing?”

Now Prendergast is talking to me, though he still keeps his distance.

I don’t knowwhat she’s doing exactly but I can guess. I’ve seen her prepare before. But it’s nothing I can share without causing him panic so I turn my back on him to join Sophie on the floor. I stop her hand with my own, forcing her to look up at me.

“What is this?”

She glances toward Prendergast. “I’m going to give Steven what he wants. The answers to all his questions.”

“We can tell him what he needs to know,” I remind her. “We know the story now.”

She turns fierce blue eyes on me. “Oh, but this will be so much better. He’s going to hear it from his great-grandmother herself. And then she’sgoing to hear what misery Jonathan has inflicted on me. It should be quite a show.”

“How will you bring her here? Is she dead?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve perfected a summoning charm. Whether we pull her from the afterlife or next door, she’ll appear in corporeal form.”

“What about Jonathan? How does he figure in this?”

Her lips curl into a sneer. “Oh, he’s the star attraction. He’s my special gift to Leticia.”

“Gift?”

Excitement burns through her eyes. “I’m going to make sure she takes Jonathan with her when she goes. I just hope it’s straight to hell.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

From the corner of my eye, I see Prendergast inching his way toward the door.

Sophie sees it, too.

“Oh, you don’t want to go, Steven,” she purrs. “Remember, this is mainly for your benefit. And when it’s done, you can be the one to correct the family history you’re so bent on protecting.”

He looks at me. “What does she mean?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m just like you. Along for the ride.”

My tone is deriding but one look at her setting out candles and crystals on the five points of a star hand drawn on the floor of a bar and I understand his instinct to get the hell away from Sophie.

“How did she get you here?”

His eyes flick to her. “She said she’d make it worth my time.”

So he came because of greed. Should have known.

What about me? What am I doing here? There’s concern for Jonathan of course, and my curiosity to see how she’s going to pull this off. Truthfully, the opportunity to meet and talk with Leticia peaks my interest, too.

Then vampire tempers my enthusiasm with a quiet reminder.

Sophie hates all vampires. Be on guard. Make sure she doesn’t intend to send you off with Jonathan. Remember: magic always exacts a price.

Points well taken.

Sophie is finishing her preparations. She looks up once at Prendergast, notices the furrowed brow and the way he’s tapping a nervous left foot. “Get a drink,” she tells him. “It may help you relax.”

His expression is at first leery, but within two seconds, he’s behind the bar and uncapping a bottle of scotch. He fills a tumbler and takes a long pull.

“Take it easy,” Sophie says, standing. “I said I wanted you relaxed, not comatose.”

Prendergast pays her no heed. At his third pull, Sophie takes the glass from his hand and leads him to the star, beckoning me to follow.

She positions us around the star, each of us between a point, close but not touching. She waves a hand and the candles ignite. I see Prendergast’s shoulders jump and have to suppress a smile.

He ain’t seen nothing yet.

Sophie begins to chant. A low, melodious tune that is mesmerizing in its simplicity. Her volume neither increases nor decreases and yet it’s as if the music fills the room, becoming a fourth presence that is tangible. Then it is more than perception as a mist swirls around us, moving to the rhythm of Sophie’s voice. The mist takes on all the colors of the rainbow, mirrored in the crystals now shining like golden orbs on the floor.

My breath catches. It’s so beautiful. Fear for Jonathan, the possibility of danger, all fade. I’m transfixed by what I see. Music you can touch. My hand lifts, fluttering through the mist, causing ripples that ebb and flow like the tide before settling once again into their original patterns.

The cadence of Sophie’s chant quickens, the pitch drops. The mist changes, too. Primary colors fade, replaced by shades of charcoal and grey. There’s a chill in the room now. An edge that has a dampening effect on the mind as well as the body.

A shudder shakes my shoulders. I’m aware of Sophie next to me. When I look at her, she has her arms outstretched. Her eyelids flutter. I want to grab her, shake her. There is danger here. This is what vampire reminded me of.

Before I can move, the crystals spark, bursting into flame. They form a circle, so close heat singes my feet, forcing me to take a step back. Prendergast jumps back, too. Sophie alone stands with the flames licking at her feet and ankles. She doesn’t flinch. Only her voice changes, rising with the flames, intoning a command.

There is a blinding flash as the flames leap upward followed by a crack that shakes the floor and reverberates like thunder.

Prendergast claps his hands to his ears.

I can’t move, frozen by the specter that appears in the circle of flame.

A girl with an hourglass figure and long blonde curls.

She blinks at us, confused, shielding her eyes from the blinding light surrounding her.

It’s not until the light fades and the flames retreat into their crystal orbs that she lowers her hand and stares out.

“How the hell did I get here?” she says. “And who the fuck are you people?”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Not the first words I expected out of Leticia’s mouth just as I did not expect a modern woman dressed in a skintight black sheathe and Jimmy Choos.

Guess Leticia has not gone to the afterlife—whatever that is—unless it’s complete with designer boutiques and high-end shoe stores. I look at Sophie to see if she’s disappointed.

Sophie stands quietly, a smile of accomplishment brightening her face. She looks at Prendergast. “Here’s your great-grandmother, Steven. Say hello.”

But before he can give voice to the astonishment reflected on his face, Leticia zeroes in on me.

“Vampire. Did you bring me here?”

I shake my head and point to Sophie. “Nope. She did.”

Credit should be given where it’s due.

Leticia spins on those stilettos. Her sheathe is backless, plunging to the base of her spine. I stare while she skewers Sophie with a glare. “Why, witch?”

Sophie, in turn, points to Prendergast. “Your great-grandson wanted to meet you.”

A squeak erupts from Prendergast’s throat. “Are you a ghost?”

“Do I look like a ghost?”

“But how–?” Perspiration makes his face shine in the candlelight. “How is it possible?”

Sophie grunts. “She’s a vampire, remember? Isn’t that the reason we’re here?”

As Sophie talks, Leticia is looking around. At first, it’s in a vacant, curious sort of way. But soon the light of recognition flickers in her eyes. She walks to the bar, runs a hand along the polished mahogany rails. She breathes in sharply. “Where am I?”

“Look at the pictures on the wall,” Sophie replies. “It’ll come to you.”

Leticia crosses the room. She pauses beneath each gilded frame as if memorizing the images.

“How long has it been since you’ve been here?” I ask.

Her voice is tight with emotion. “Well over a hundred years.”

“Do you remember much about your time in Leadville?”

“Leadville?” She half turns to look at me. “What’s that?”

I flash to my tutorial in the library this morning. “That’s right. When you lived here it was called Cloud City.”

“And they changed the name to Leadville? Why on earth did they do that?”

“It’s a long story,” Sophie says, stepping between us. “And we don’t have time for it now. If you and Anna want to discuss it later, I’m sure she’ll be happy to fill you in.”

Leticia nods in my direction. “Anna?”

“Anna Strong.”

She tilts her head to look at me, a subtle shift in the set of her shoulders. “ TheAnna Strong?”

Again, Sophie takes a step toward Leticia. “You have to tell your great-grandson what happened between you and Jonathan Deveraux.”

This time the shift is more obvious, decidedly negative, and aimed at Sophie. “What do you know about Jonathan Deveraux?”

Prendergast finally finds his voice. “He was the vampire that turned you. He stole the family fortune and had you run out of town.”

Leticia looks at Prendergast with a mixture of incredulity and disdain. “Wherever did you hear that?”

“It’s been a family legend for over a century. How becoming a vampire cost you everything—a family that loved you, your money, even your son. You were banished, never to be heard from again. Deveraux was responsible.”

Leticia clucks her tongue. “Who told you that? The Prendergast side of the family? It’s bullshit. All of it.”

“Why don’t you tell him the truth, Leticia?” Sophie’s voice is soft, throaty as if she can hardly wait for Prendergast’s illusion to be shattered.

“I know the truth,” he snaps. “Deveraux took advantage of an innocent young girl. He corrupted her. Turned her into a demon. Our family has lived in the shadow of the scandal for as long as I can remember.”

 Leticia throws her head back and laughs. “Oh my god,” she says when she’s caught her breath. “You are delusional.” She turns to Sophie. “Where did you find this clown?”

Prendergast bristles, tripping over his words in his fervor to object. “It’s true. My grandmother wrote it all in a journal. We should have been heir to a mining fortune. Your fortune. But it was stolen and the family name disgraced. I’m here to get our money back. And to set the record straight. You should be grateful.”

Leticia’s face darkens with anger. I recognize vampire close to the surface and my defenses are immediately on alert.

She flashes bared teeth. “ Yourmoney? Would you like to know how I made yourmoney?”

Prendergast nods, a nervous, jerky head bob that is more acquiescence to a command then willing assent.

Leticia moves to stand at the middle of the bar. “It was here. In this building. There was no family mining operation. My family disowned me. Took my son. I was run out of town, all right, but it was Boston, not Cloud City. All because I fell in love with a handsome man who promised me the world. He gave it to me, too.”

“Deveraux,” Prendergast says.

“Not Deveraux,” Leticia counters. “Another. And he brought me to Cloud City and we set up business. Want to know what kind of business, great-grandson? I ran a whorehouse. The best in the county. I sold whiskey and girls and business was good. I made more money than the miners who came stinking of dirt and sweat. They came to fuck pretty young things who smelled of lavender and rose blossoms and to drop their week’s wages into my willing hands. That’show I made my fortune. Myfortune. Deveraux had nothing to do with it.”

Prendergast isn’t ready to let go of a hundred-fifty years of family legend. “I don’t believe you. Why would everyone lie?”

Leticia laughs again, this time it’s cold, hard and completely without mirth. “Because they were ashamed of the way they treated me. Why do you think I turned to the only man in town who didn’t treat me like a soiled dove because I had a child and no husband?”

“But you were a widow,” he says.

“A grasswidow,” she corrects. “Do you know what that means?”

He looks confused so she continues. “I was engaged to a man, a wealthy farmer on the outskirts of town. We intended to marry. He died before we could. But I was already pregnant. That just wasn’t done in those days. Neither his family nor mine accepted the child.”

“Your mother raised him,” Prendergast reminds her.

“After they kicked me out. And only because she hoped someday his father’s family would come around. Make him heir to his father’s land. They didn’t.”

“So you turned to a vampire?” He spits the word.

Leticia moves faster than human eyes can follow. She grabs his shirt and pulls his face close to hers, close to her vampire face. “A vampire worth a hundred of you, worm.”

Flashing teeth and yellow eyes burn with the desire to end this discussion once and for all, to end the life of this long-lost relative, to sever the ties that bound her to a human family who caused her so much pain a lifetime ago and still lies about her.

I read her intentions. She’s opened her mind to me. She’s issuing an invitation.

Inviting me to join in the kill.

Don’t, Leticia. He’s not worth it.

She pulls a whimpering Prendergast closer, nuzzling his neck. What difference does that make? He’s a meat puppet. A stupid one at that.

It’s Sophie who breaks the tension. “Don’t kill him yet, Leticia,” she says. “Tell him about Jonathan Deveraux.”

Leticia releases her grip on Prendergast and sends him crashing against the bar. He slithers down and lands on his ass with an undignified jolt. He’s so relieved to be free, he doesn’t protest.

Leticia turns her wrath on Sophie. “Listen, witch, Jonathan Deveraux is none of your business. You’ve had your fun. Impressed your friends with your little parlor trick. Now send me home or it will be the last spell you ever cast.”

“You’re wrong,” Sophie says calmly. “He is my business. In fact, would you like to speak with him?”

Leticia stares at her. “That’s not possible. He was killed. A year ago. Murdered by his wife. If I hadn’t heard that she disappeared soon after, I would have gone after her myself.”

“All true,” Sophie says. “By the way, you haven’t asked my name.”

“Why would I care what your name is?”

“You should care. I’m the one who helped Jonathan get rid of his wife—his widow. You might say Jonathan and I have been together ever since.”

Leticia shakes her head. “If he was alive, I’d know it. We had a special bond.”

“Because you were his sire?”

Prendergast groans from his place on the floor. “No.”

Leticia ignores him, eyes locked on Sophie. “You wouldn’t know that unless Jonathan told you. Where is he?”

Sophie touches the middle of her chest with a closed fist. “He’s here.”