Vampire - Beneath A Blood Red Moon Part 47

She felt safe enough, and it had actually been fun-being guarded by the police for a change rather than being hounded by them. Every eight hours, the s.h.i.+ft changed. A different muscle-bound, handsome young officer came to look over her.

But early this morning, the call came. Tough old Libby Warren who ran a house of top- notch girls out on the highway, twenty miles due west of the city, had disappeared. Her bar man had seen her with a tall, handsome fellow with pale skin and Ray-Bans, and then she had disappeared with him. But not before she had told her bartender to call old Mamie, since Mamie had said she had just the right girl for the fellow.

Well, she shouldn't have done it. She shouldn't have listened to Maggie, telling her that she was a vampire, too, that she could fight him when no one else could. It was obvious.

Libby was dead. Libby hadn't reached her, and it was a good thing, because if she had sent Maggie after the fellow, Maggie might be dead now, too.

But she had to tell Sean Canady. She tried calling the station; they wouldn't tell her where Sean was. They wouldn't tell her where his partner, Jack, was, either. She tried Sean's home in the city, and his father's fine plantation. She tried his beeper number, but he didn't respond. Finally, she decided she just had to move herself. The boy watching over her then was maybe twenty-five. Tall as Mike Jordan, handsome as Lucifer. Copper-colored, with the most gorgeous eyes she'd ever seen. She asked him to take her down to headquarters.

"Mamie, I was told to keep you here at the restaurant. We're in a controlled environment here, there are more officers patrolling just outside-"

"Well, honey, what would you have at police headquarters if not a whole bunch more police officers?"

"I've been told to watch you here. You're to stay here unless Lieutenant Canady tells me differently-"

"That's just it! I need to reach Lieutenant Canady!"

"You just need to be patient, Mamie."

She sniffed loudly, turned her back on him, and began to plot. She tried all the numbers Sean had given her again, then she decided to call Maggie.

She was surprised when Maggie actually answered the phone. Her voice was tense, sharp, as if she expected someone else. "Mamie! Mamie, what is it?"

"Why, honey, I just had to let you know that I think Carter has killed an old madam out on the highway. He suspected something right away, I'm sure. I was trying to find Lieutenant Canady-"

"Mamie, I know where Aaron Carter is. I'm going after him now."

"But-"

"Mamie, tell Sean I loved him, please."

"But, honey-"

"Mamie, I don't know where he is. I was supposed to be with him ... he and Jack went out to the old Carter/Dixon ruins. I think he's still alive. But Aaron Carter has some friends of mine and Sean's dad and ... and I've got to go, Mamie. Stay safe, stay with the police."

"Wait, wait, you're going after this madman alone-"

"Not a word, Mamie! You'll get someone else killed! This is my disaster, and I've got to end it!"

"Wait, honey, wait-"

"I can't talk. I don't have time. I answered the phone because I thought it might be Aaron again. I've got to go, Mamie."

"Honey, I've got to help you-"

"Then pray for me, Mamie."

"But I can send the police-tons of them!"

"No! He'll kill someone immediately if I don't go alone."

The line went dead.

Feeling sick, Mamie stared at the phone. The old ruins, she mused. She was suddenly afraid. Well, Sean was at the ruins; the killer was not. She had to find Sean as fast as possible.

Mr. Good-Looking wasn't going to let her out of his sight.

"Officer?" she called softly.

"Yes, ma'am?" "I've Lieutenant Canady on the phone."

He walked toward her, nodding. When he had nearly reached her, she creamed him across the temple with the receiver. Big, broad, and beautiful, he fell without a whimper.

"Sorry, honey," Mamie said softly. "But give me a normal man, and I can deal with him every time!"

She slipped out of the restaurant the back way, glad of the rain and the ceaselessly gray day. The cops were trying to keep dry. Still, she carefully avoided the police on the streets.

With her coat high around her face, she made off in her bartender's car.

Once out of the French Quarter and on the highway, she gunned it.

He felt ...

The rain. Light, soft, touching his face. He was sleeping, his head was heavy ... hurt ...

Someone was touching him. Maggie. No, not Maggie. Not a gentle touch. Someone was slapping his cheeks.

"Honey, honey, you have got to wake up! Lieutenant Canady, it's me, Mamie."

Mamie!

The grogginess vanished. He sat up, feeling his head. He groaned aloud; the pain was still there, but his mind was sharp and he was feeling a growing sense of alarm.

They had found Aaron.

And Aaron was gone. Pierre and Jack were on the ground beside him. Jeanne was sitting with the boy, sobbing. The boy was staring at them all as if ...

"I think the white girl there has lost it, Canady," Mamie said. "She's been clinging to Bessie's kid-and don't that boy look spooked!-and crying away. Jack is out cold, but don't fret, he's alive, and the old geezer over there is breathing, as well. But you've got to move, get some kind of help. Maggie was on her way to Ashville-"

"Ashville!"

Sean leaped to his feet, nearly knocking Mamie over. He automatically reached for her.

His head was still spinning.

"Be smart now, Lieutenant-"

"Yeah, I'll be smart. s.h.i.+t!" He looked around at the others, then at Mamie. "You've got to take charge here. I'll call for help on the radio-watch out for Bessie's kid. He's like a rabid dog."

"Lieutenant-!"

"He's at Ashville. And Maggie is after him. Alone."

Mamie didn't try to stop him again. Sean grabbed a duffel bag and started running around the graves to reach the cars at the front of the house.

Mamie looked at Bessie's little boy. Such a precious little thing.

He hissed at her.

"Don't you mess with me, young Isaac! I'll slap you clear to China, little man!"

The hissing stopped instantly.

Mamie felt good. Then she looked around herself. At the dark graveyard. At the tomb.

At the open coffins. "Oh, s.h.i.+t!" she said aloud.

And she prayed that help would come fast.

The rain had stopped.

The darkness of the day remained, a warning that the rain would come again.

The ma.s.sive front doors to Ashville stood open.

Maggie jumped out of her car, running up the steps, not taking the caution to slow down until she reached the doors themselves. She'd been so afraid, she'd been tempted to will herself here, to come in mist, and yet, she knew she would need all her strength.

Lightning slashed across the sky, eerily illuminating the doors that stood open like a gaping entry to a black pit of h.e.l.l. There was an ominous rumble of thunder on the air. The storm clouds billowed in shades of gray, darker gray, and black. All blue was gone from the sky.

She stepped through.

She nearly tripped over a body, and panic tightened her throat. She couldn't see, because the darkening sky outside provided no light to the interior of the house. Blindly, she stumbled down, praying that she had come upon Daniel or her friends while they were still alive, and not mutilated corpses.

The body was cold. She almost cried out, but in the pale daylight filtering through the door, she was able to see at close range that the corpse did not belong to Daniel Canady, Cissy, or Angie. She gasped out loud, feeling tears spring to her eyes as she saw Aaron's greeting: Another woman. The only blessing was that the woman was a stranger.

She had been savagely killed. She was dressed in elegant, bloodstained undergarments-stockings, garters, spiked heels. Her legs were at an awkward angle. She lay in the entryway of the house with her throat slit ear to ear, nearly beheaded. A note lay upon her stomach. "Practice, Maggie. This one's a meal, I'll have to dispose of the body later, since I needed her to greet you while she's not part of my artistry. The next killings will truly be my experiments in terror. You were scared, weren't you? Where are your pretty little friends, chocolate and vanilla? I love a black-and-white shake. They are beauties. I can scarcely wait to taste them."

Her mouth and throat were bone dry. Where were the girls?

And Daniel? Did she dare cry out? Was Aaron watching for her, waiting?

She shed her shoes to walk through the grand entry hall and past the stairway. She looked into the kitchen and dining room, the parlor, and then the library.

Daniel Canady was there, slumped over his desk. The desk where he had drawn his books out when she had come here. She remembered how she had sat with Sean at a window seat. It had been so wonderful. A night with him, a normal night. Falling in love again, seeing his eyes, hearing his laughter, having his fingers brush her, touch her. But this was where it had brought them now!

She swallowed hard, thinking that she couldn't bear it if she had brought about the deaths of Daniel or her friends. How could she ever face Sean again if she had caused the murder of his father, and how could she ever live with herself if Cissy or Angie were to die, and so horribly, because of their a.s.sociation with her? She closed her eyes suddenly.

Her father had loved her; he had refused to believe that she had been d.a.m.ned. Had she wanted some kind of forgiveness so badly that she had d.a.m.ned all those around her? "Please!" she prayed silently, and she wondered if her prayers could ever be answered as she moved on her stocking feet into the library. Daniel's back was to her. She was terrified that she'd touch him-and discover he was slumped over because his head was nearly detached from his body.

But his head was still attached. Shaking, she fell to her knees by his side, trying to see him in the shadows brought on by the coming storm. A jagged streak of lightning lit up the sky beyond, and she saw that a trickle of blood streaked down his face from his temple.

But his flesh was warm, and she frantically touched his throat, looking for a pulse, and she found one.

A whimpering sound came to her, and she turned. There they were as well, Cissy and Angie, both still alive, tied together and slumped against the far wall. Cissy's head was down; Angie stared at her with wide, terrified eyes that pleaded for help.

"Oh, thank G.o.d!" she breathed. Coming to her feet, Maggie started across the room to free them, praying that Cissy was conscious, and that she'd be able to run.

But suddenly, a cold draft seemed to burst into the room, ruffling the drapes, stirring papers on the desk.

"Maggie ..."

She heard her name called out in a low, slow, haunting whisper. "Maggie, Megan, Meg ... Ms. M. Montgomery ... come, Maggie, what will you do now? Where am I, Maggie? Can you see me, can you find me? Ahh ... do you dare come for me, fight me? If you win, they live. If you lose, I do as I choose. And you suffer until you wish you were dead anyway, Maggie, Maggie, Magdalena!"

She kept walking across the room, searching the shadows, trying to discover where he was.

"Aaron, this is between us-"

"Canady is between us. Did you like the present I left you in the foyer?"

"Who was she, Aaron?"

"Maggie, I don't even know. The Avon lady, maybe. A poor misfortunate who stumbled into my path. I told you, I was rudely awakened by Lieutenant Canady. Then I was just so awake, and I knew what I had to do ... I hurried right over to Montgomery Enterprises and watched your friends. Pretty, pretty girls, Maggie. I was just on fire! I didn't want to do anything premature, so I slipped into a local strip joint for a bite before collecting the girls and bringing them here. I didn't have much time. I needed to get you to this old homestead as well, and I'm imagining that even Canady might figure out where we are soon. It was just that once I picked up your lovely friends to bring them here, I was so tempted to drink ... and I wanted you here for the finale, of course. You shouldn't feel too badly. This one didn't hurt at all. She died crushed in my embrace, loving every minute of it."

"I hate you, Aaron. I hate you because you're a cold-blooded killer-"

"No, Maggie, we're all cold-blooded killers. You can't change nature, not the nature of the beast."

"No, you're wrong, we don't have to be cold-blooded killers-"

"What a lying, self-righteous little beauty you are, my sweet. You've killed. You know you've killed."

"Only when-" "When you judged a man, and determined he should die? Oh, Maggie, you're a sp.a.w.n of Satan, and you want to give yourself the power of a G.o.d! You think you can set yourself up as judge and jury?"

She shook her head. "Go to h.e.l.l, Aaron, where you belong. I still believe in G.o.d."

"Fool, for G.o.d has forsaken you! Do you think you can find forgiveness because the blood you crave comes from the Red Cross?" he mocked.

"Aaron, you're the fool. What will this prove? I hate you for your brutal cruelty, for the vicious sickness that's so apparent in your eyes. Aaron, you were a monster long before you were ever diseased."

Deep, haunting laughter filled the room, seeming to come from everywhere.

"Diseased? You consider us diseased, my dear?"