Anna Strong - The Becoming Part 22

The doork.n.o.b on the outside door jiggles as someone tries it. Then there's a gentle tap.

"This is the maid, Miss. Shall I come back later?"

I blow out an exasperated sigh and cross to let her in. "Sorry," I say, swinging open the door.

She's not what I expect. She's young, twenties, maybe, and beautiful in an exotic way. Her s.h.i.+ny, black hair hangs straight to her shoulders framing a thin face with huge, dark eyes and a generous mouth. Hispanic-Asian mix, maybe, or Eurasian. She's dressed in jeans and a baggy tee s.h.i.+rt over which hangs a white linen ap.r.o.n. She looks embarra.s.sed at having disturbed me.

I hold out my hand. "My name is Anna Strong. I'm a friend of Avery's." I smile. "But you knew that, didn't you?"

She returns the handshake timidly. "Dr. Avery said he had a guest. And that I wasn't to disturb you."

"You didn't. Really. I'll leave you to your work Miss-?"

"My name is Dena. And I can come back later."

She's so serious-almost deprecatingly so. Very different from the att.i.tude of most twenty-year-olds. She almost seems afraid of me.

Why?

I wave a hand at her as I pa.s.s into the hall. "No. You do what you need to. I'll be downstairs, all right?"

She nods and turns away and it's then I notice two tiny marks on her neck. They are not fresh, but whoever made them, didn't use his vampire power to heal them, either. I touch her shoulder and she jumps.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I was curious, though. How long have you worked for Dr. Avery?"

Dena shrugs and, as if suddenly aware of what I've seen, tugs at the collar of her tee s.h.i.+rt. "Not long. I had an accident several months ago. I was a patient of Dr. Avery's and he was kind enough to offer me this position when I was released from the hospital. I needed a job. He lets me work in the mornings so I can go to school in the afternoons. He's been a G.o.dsend."

But her tone is less than convincing. And as she speaks, she backs away from me, twisting at the hem of her ap.r.o.n. She's not vampire, I'm sure of that because there's no path that I can find into her mind. But she's afraid of me because she recognizes that I am.

I smile at her gently, trying to ease her fear. "I'll leave you now, Dena."

Her eyes never leave my face. I feel them follow me as I make my way back to my own room. For the first time, I'm aware of a dark side to Avery. That in spite of all his talk about wanting to work with rather than prey on mortals, he has taken advantage of this girl. I know it as well as I know my new strength, as I know I am no longer human. As I know that she senses the difference.

She may have offered herself at first, been excited or flattered that the handsome doctor showed such interest. But she doesn't want it now. Is he still feeding from her? Was it her blood he offered me the morning I came back fromBeso de la Muerte ?

I'm filled with angry impatience as I wait for Dena to finish in Avery's room. I'm more determined than ever to find out what he's hiding. When we're together, it's truly as if I'm under his spell. He makes me forget everything except the touch of his hand, the taste of his blood. But I know very little about him-only what he wants me to know. And I've let him shape my knowledge of what it is to be vampire in his own image.

It's time I learn more. Maybe some of those secrets are hidden in this house.

Dena tiptoes past my room, anxious to be on her way, afraid that I might try to stop her. I hear it in her halting footsteps, see it in the drawn expression on her face as she pa.s.ses my open door. I let her go, listening to the sounds of the front door closing, the clicking of the deadbolt, the cranking of a car engine. When I'm sure I'm once again alone, I head back for Avery's bedroom.

No finesse this time. I pull books out of the case, use vampire strength to move them from the wall, run my hands up and down to search for hidden seams.

Nothing.

s.h.i.+t.

I slump down on the foot of the bed. I try to remember exactly what I heard last night. Avery moving from somewhere along this wall into the bathroom.

Or was it this wall?

I turn to the fireplace. There's a ma.s.sive stone hearth with a raised platform in front and storage areas for wood on either side. The storage areas are both well over six feet tall and the one on the right is stacked floor to top with neatly sawed, fragrant logs of cedar and pine. The one on the left is only half full, though. And when I peer at it closely, a faint outline presents itself.

But if this is the door, how to get in? Avery certainly didn't have time to remove all these logs last night, then replace them when he came back. I heard the door close and he moved immediately away.

There must be a hidden catch.

I take a step closer. The mantel is a solid slab of heavy dark wood. I run my fingers over the surface, above and below, not knowing what I'm searching for, but not feeling anything that might activate a door either. Stepping back again, I look up at two big bra.s.s sconces on either side of the hearth. Could this be the way in?

I reach up for the one on the left. I tug, pull, twist.

Nothing.

I move to the opposite end. This time, when I pull there is a grinding sound, like a gear mechanism springing to life. I jump back and watch as the left side of the fireplace moves in on itself, the entire wall disappearing into a pa.s.sage that stretches into a black void in front of me.

I've found the way into Avery's secret room.

I have to wait a moment, to let my eyes adjust from the bright sun-filled bedroom to the darkness of the pa.s.sageway. When my vampire vision takes over, I take a step inside.

There's a long, wooden staircase that looks to descend straight down, almost like a ladder. The staircase is narrow, not more than two feet wide. One wall is stone, the outside wall of the house probably, the other, wood. There is a handrail, which I grip tightly as I start down. I can't see to the bottom. I can't hear anything, either. There's an eerie stillness that sends an involuntary s.h.i.+ver up my spine.

There must be a hundred steps. When I touch ground I'm standing on a dirt floor. The musk smell of decaying vegetation tells me that I'm deep underground. Avery has built himself an earthen fortress.

I spot a door ahead of me about fifty feet from the bottom of the stairs. I know it won't be locked. Avery would not expect anyone to find this place without him. And I'm right. The door yields under my touch.

It's a large room, maybe twenty by thirty, stacked with wooden crates on one wall, shelving against another. There is a switch to the right of the door. I throw it and the room jumps into stark relief. The shelves are strewn with pieces of pottery, vases, items of gold and silver that glitter despite the gloom of a dim subterranean light-all that's needed with vampire vision.

I don't know much about art, but I recognize the magnificence of what I see in front me. The graceful beauty of ancient Chinese porcelains, the intricate scrollwork of Egyptian antiquities, the simple magnificence of Mayan pottery and jewelry, I've discovered the source of Avery's wealth. Acc.u.mulated across the centuries, I imagine, doled out piece by piece when the need arises. I can't tell what's in the crates, but I'd be willing to bet it's more of the same. The contents of this room could fill a small museum-or keep one immortal living in splendor forever.

There's nothing incriminating here, not really. Of course I have no way of knowing how he came by such treasure. Being vampire, I'm sure it might not be all on the up and up. But what great fortune, human or vampire, was ever acc.u.mulated without the hint of impropriety? I've found nothing to justify another invasion of Avery's privacy. I've once again thought the worst of him and been mistaken.

Casper was right. My instincts are certainly off. Well, at least I can make this right. I can keep Avery from finding out about my foray into his underground vault. It won't be easy keeping it out of my thoughts, but I will do it. I don't want to risk losing him because of another vague, unsubstantiated suspicion.

What I need to do now is focus, concentrate on finding David. I'm going to have to start all over. I'll leave forBeso de la Muerte tonight. Avery won't like it, but he'll have to accept it.

As I make my way across the floor towards the door, I notice for the first time that there is something else in the room. A bundle, deep in the shadows, that looks like a roll of carpet propped lengthwise against the third wall.

Probably an ancient Persian rug plucked from the castle of a king.

I hardly give it another glance-at first.

But then- A tiny movement.

Did I imagine it?

Eyes riveted on the carpet, I find myself propelled toward it. Chilling, black silence envelops me in doomed foreboding.I prepare myself for the worse.

I kneel down and peel back a corner, shaking so badly I have to grasp the rug with both hands.

I think I know. I think I'm ready.

But the horror of what I see is more terrible than anything I imagine.

I've found David.

Bound and gagged and lying still as death on that dirt floor.

Chapter Thirty-Six.

I hear a moan, deep and full of despair. It takes me a moment to realize it's my own voice, my own despair. I'm still shaking. I can't even hold myself upright, but slump against David's side, my arms around him, my face pressed against his. How could this have happened? How could I have let this happen?

How could Avery do this to me?

It is at that moment that I feel it.

A slight movement in my arms, a turn of the head, a shallow intake of breath.

I fear it's my imagination. I pull back, put my ear to his chest. Listen.

A faint heartbeat.

He's not dead.

Ripping at the carpet, I pull it away, ease the constriction around his chest. He moans a little, but his eyes remain shut, his breathing labored. I hold his head in my hands and shake it gently from side to side.

"Come on David. Open those beautiful eyes. Talk to me."

There's no response. He's deep in some sort of coma. Drug induced maybe. Or- I move his head slightly. I find what I expect. Avery has fed from David.

There are two marks at his jugular. Not small pinp.r.i.c.ks like Dena's, but ugly, gaping wounds made by someone in a feeding frenzy.

Someone not caring that he's leaving marks because he knows his victim will never be found.

Avery has fed from David.

Anger, like a scalding iron, burns so deep in my gut I have to force it back and out of my thoughts. Revenge will come later. First and foremost, I must get David to safety. With a jolt, I realize I know nothing about how feeding affects the human physiology. Will David recover on his own? Does he need a transfusion? Can I risk taking him to a hospital?

I don't have the answer to any of those questions. The only person I could ask is the last person I can. Gathering David in my arms, I lift him like a doll and carry him up the stairs. I lay him out on Avery's bed and return to the room. Rolling the carpet back up, I prop it against the wall the way I found it. If Avery should return while I'm gone, at first glance the room will look just as he left it.

Then I set about putting the bookcase in order. I have no idea how the books were arranged, stupid of me not to have noticed, but Avery is an organized man and I have to imagine he would sort his books by topic. I re-shelve the medical books together, then fiction, then general nonfiction. If he asks about it, I'll tell him Dena was dusting in here and I interrupted her before she could finish so I put the books back myself.

Lame. But it's all I can come up with.

Besides, Avery will have more pressing problems to deal with than his disrupted bookcase.

Grimly, I take a last look around the room. The fireplace door is shut, the sconce back in its upright position. I lift David off the bed and take him downstairs and out the kitchen door to the garage. I lay him in the back seat of the Explorer, out of sight under a blanket, and then I realize I've left my purse and cell phone inside.I'm almost to the back door when I hear a car coming up the driveway. Did Dena forget something when she was here earlier? I shade my eyes from the bright noonday sun and look toward the gate.

But it is not Dena's car approaching. It is Avery's.

My first impulse if to fly at him, to give him no chance to flee or fight back. To tear him apart for what he's done.

But I know I can't do that. At least, not yet. I need to get David help. And there are questions Avery needs to answer.

I gather myself together, calm the wild beating of my heart, obliterate all thoughts of what I've found this morning. He cannot know what I've done.

And so when I go to meet him, I'm smiling. And when he takes me in his arms to kiss me, I kiss him back.

He pulls away after a moment and waves a hand towards the garage. "Were you going out?"

"I was going shopping," I reply without hesitation. Lying seems to have become second nature. "I wanted to get something special for tonight."

He smiles and reaches into the back seat of his car. "I've saved you the trouble." He pulls a long, plastic dress bag from inside and holds it out to me. "I thought this would look lovely on you."

I move the zipper down a little, just enough to see the jeweled top of a designer gown, bright red with tiny straps and a label that reads Badgley Mischka. I look up at Avery. "One of New York's hottest designers. How did you manage that?"

"Not a problem, when you have the right friends," he replies, his eyes sparkling with pleasure.

I drape the bag over my arm.Thank you. Are you coming in?

Avery shakes his head.I wish I could. But I have surgery all afternoon. I just wanted to give you the dress and remind you that I'll send a car for you at eight. We are going to have an evening you'll never forget.

And at that moment, I almost lose it. I almost let him know just how right he is.

But he doesn't pick up on my disquiet, doesn't sense the rage. He's too full of his own pleasure, too self-satisfied. He kisses me again, gets back into his car and pulls away, waving at me and grinning, completely oblivious to the oncoming storm.

When Avery's car disappears from sight, I retrace my steps from the kitchen where I retrieve my purse and phone, to the garage.

David hasn't moved. I make sure he's as comfortable as I can make him before I take the garment bag Avery left with me and lay it out in the area behind the back seat. I want to rip the d.a.m.ned thing to shreds, but I console myself with the thought that I'll do the next best thing. I'll be wearing it when I rip Avery to shreds.

But first-where do I take David? I consider and reject my parent's home, a motel, a hospital. I can't risk the possibility that Avery had me followed the day I went to La Mesa to retrieve my things, or that he's having me followed now. I don't think that's the case.

He seems too sure of me. But he has so many contacts in so many places, any public venue might be a danger. And there are a lot of vampires out there, any one of which might turn me in for a return favor.

Which leaves one other possibility. I can take David back to his own place. Anyone following would think I'm back on the trail.

And if Avery returns and discovers David is gone, I doubt the first place he would think to look for him would be David's own place. Besides, Avery won't have the chance to get to him again. I plan to make sure of that.

And so I bring David home. It's quiet in the garage when I pull in. The guest s.p.a.ces are close to the elevator, and since it's midday and most of the building's occupants are at work, I manage to get David out of the car and into the elevator without incident. I don't know how I would have explained a one hundred twenty-five-pound woman carrying a two hundred-fifty-pound man like an oversized doll, but luckily, I don't have to. No one else stops the elevator and we shoot right to the top floor.I use David's keys to get inside. I lay him on the couch, retrieve a blanket and pillow from his bedroom, and try to make him as comfortable as I can. His breathing is still labored, but his heartbeat is strong. I think back to what Avery said in his kitchen yesterday morning.I drain just enough from them to sustain my own life and prolong theirs.

If that's true, how long would it take for a mortal to recover from prolonged feeding? When you give blood, they tell you you must wait 56 days after donating a pint before you can donate again. How many pints has Avery drained from David? He's been at Avery's two days. Somehow, I don't think Avery used caution in his feeding. He planned to kill him, after all.

I rub a hand over my face. I don't know what to do. The best thing would be to get David to a hospital where a transfusion could replace some of his lost blood. But I can't risk it. For all I know there are other doctors like Avery in every hospital who would pick up on David's condition the minute he got there. Once word got out, I might not be able to protect him.