Blood Secrets (21 page)

He laughed. “You honestly believed that bullshit? I’ve fucked every single one of my bunnies, including your cousin before I sent her off to be sucked and fucked by someone else, just like the good little whores you all are.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, awkwardly kicking first one leg and then another behind her in an attempt to gain her freedom.

He reached around her and stuck his hand between her legs. “Been there, had that, wasn’t impressed.”

Piper shrieked and lashed out with her fists.

He laughed, dodging her ill-aimed blows until a kick
made him move to the right and her fist found its mark in the tender flesh above his groin. All strength left his body and his knees buckled. His stomach churned, and he felt as though he would be sick.

She didn’t offer taunts or more punches. Piper bolted for the door, flung it open, and fled into the midday light, leaving Kirk groaning in pain among the shattered remains of his living room.

“Is there something wrong, Mom?” Stephen asked quietly. His voice was pitched so as to be both intimate and audible over the low, indistinct conversations of other diners around them.

Emily looked up, noted the worry in her son’s clear blue eyes, and offered a halfhearted smile. “No, honey, I’m fine.”

“You haven’t touched your lasagna.”

She set her fork onto the side of her undisturbed plate. Stephen had offered to take her out for a nice lunch since Janet was in class until late afternoon. She’d looked forward to spending time with her son, but now all she could do was think of how to keep her daughter alive. “I guess I’m not very hungry.”

Stephen pushed his empty plate aside and a passing waiter grabbed it on his way to the kitchen. He steepled his fingers and tapped them against his pursed lips, studying her. “You’re worried about Alex, aren’t you?”

She settled farther in the corner of their booth. “Of course I’m worried about her. I’m always worried about her.”

“No, this is different.” Stephen leaned forward and dropped his voice even lower. “What’s going on, Mom? I haven’t seen you this distracted in a long time.”

“I said it’s nothing.”

“Is it the Tribunal? Varik?”

“Oh, Stephen, not all of this family’s problems stem from Varik Baudelaire. In fact, he’s probably the last person who’d want to harm any of us.”

“Could’ve fooled me with the way he tried to choke me a month ago.”

“You provoked him, and you know it,” Emily scolded. “And, for Alex’s sake, until this Tribunal business is over, the less you antagonize Varik, the better.”

“Why are you always so quick to defend him? I don’t understand why I’m the only one who sees this guy is trouble.”

“Because you’re protective of Alex and you want what
you
think is best for her.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “But, honey, Alex is a grown woman. She can make her own decisions, and if she chooses to try and work things out with Varik, you need to step back and let her.”

Stephen slumped in his seat, arms folded across his chest, brooding and silent.

Emily scooted out of the booth and handed her purse to him. “I’m going to the little girls’ room. Watch this for me?”

He took the bag with a terse nod.

She ruffled his curls and earned a half-smile. As she navigated the maze of tables, Emily thought of the days following Bernard’s murder.

Suddenly finding herself as a single mother in 1968 with two young children had been the least of her worries. She and Bernard shared a blood-bond and when that connection was severed, she’d fallen into a deep depression.

The week immediately after Bernard died had been the worst. She’d lain in bed, unable to move, speak, or eat. Pearlie Marker, her human neighbor, and a few others had taken it upon themselves to care for Emily, as well as Stephen and Alex, and Alex had needed just
as much care as Emily. The poor child had been the one to find her beloved father’s staked and beheaded body.

It was ten-year-old Stephen, however, who had taken on the bulk of Alex’s care. He made sure she received the proper amount of blood daily, even making certain the humans knew nothing of it. He read bedtime stories to her and comforted her during the night when she woke screaming for Bernard. Even though he was grieving himself, he’d taken on the mantle of “man of the house” and cared for his sister when Emily couldn’t.

Bernard’s funeral, however, was the turning point for Emily. The service had been closed casket, per Bernard’s will, and she and the children had been allowed into the chapel to say good-bye in private. Even now Emily could close her eyes and still smell the roses and lilies that draped the casket in red and white.

Stephen was stoic as he approached the sleek silver casket. Five-year-old Alex was quiet. She’d hardly spoken at all since finding Bernard. Emily had been … numb, as if she drifted through a haze. It wasn’t until Alex began crying, screaming that her father wasn’t dead, that she could hear him calling to her, and tried to rip open the coffin that Emily had finally snapped out of her stupor.

After the funeral, her days had been rote: wake the kids, feed them, greet the endless stream of sympathizers, avoid the media seeking to know more about “the first family of the vampire community” as they dubbed the Sabians once vampires revealed themselves, bathe the kids, send the kids to bed, and then collapse into a sobbing heap of misery. She would then rise the next morning to start the cycle again.

Throughout it all had been Varik Baudelaire. He hadn’t made any grand displays of watching over the mourning family, but Emily had been aware of him on the periphery. She would find envelopes stuffed with
cash slipped under the front door. Vials of fresh blood would mysteriously appear in the refrigerator overnight. Stephen and Alex were provided with armed bodyguards when the vampire rights movement reached its peak. There were other small events as well, but perhaps the most comforting were the occasional gifts sent to Alex.

Emily had never understood why Varik left gifts for Alex and not Stephen, but perhaps he’d felt Alex needed more attention, more support to overcome the trauma of her father’s death. Whatever his reasons, Emily still felt indebted to him four decades later, and as she made her way back to the table where Stephen waited, she decided it was time she let Varik know just how much she appreciated everything he’d done for her family.

Smiling, she slid into the booth, opposite Stephen. Her smile soon disappeared as she noticed his once-clear blue eyes had shifted to vivid amber. “What is it? Did something happen to Alex?”

He slid her cell phone across the table in silence.

“Stephen, what’s—” Her question faltered and died as she noticed the displayed number of the last call received. The time stamp was only minutes ago, while she’d been in the restroom.

“Gregor Wahl called.” His tone was dark and full of anger.

“I see that. Did he leave a message?”

“He said to tell you he had a possible lead on Siobhan’s whereabouts, and he was going to check it out.”

Emily felt her heart sink into her stomach.

“Why is Gregor calling you, Mom? Who is this Siobhan?”

Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to calm her own rapidly shifting emotions. She’d hoped to keep her inquiries into the Tribunal a secret from Stephen and Alex.

“Mom?”

“I called him,” she said quietly. She squared her shoulders and met Stephen’s angry gaze. “I asked him to find out any information he could on the Tribunal’s proceedings, anything that could help save Alex.”

“He’s the one who suggested using us as the public face for the vampire rights movement after Dad died. He made our lives hell for seven years.
Why
would you call him?”

“I know you like Gregor about as much as you like Varik, but we—
Alex
needs all the allies she can find right now. I trust Gregor, just as I trust Varik.”

“Mom, you—”

“There is more going on with the Tribunal than we’ve been told, Stephen.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Woody Phelps has taken a personal interest in Alex’s inquiry, and the Magistrates are calling in Enforcers from all over the country in some sort of massive internal investigation.”

“Why would—”

“I don’t know. Gregor was going to find out what he could and call me.” Emily punched the button to redial Gregor’s number. The line rang several times without anyone picking up. “That’s odd. Now he’s not answering.”

“So who is Siobhan?” Stephen repeated his earlier question.

She listened to a few more rings before ending the call. “A woman who worked with your father.”

“At the university?”

“Yes.”

“Is she the one Dad got pregnant?”

Emily wordlessly stared at him for several moments before finding her barely audible voice. “How do you know about that?”

“I heard you and Dad talking—arguing, at night. I may’ve been a kid but I wasn’t stupid. I knew Dad had an affair with a woman at work, but I didn’t know her name.”

“Oh, honey. This isn’t something I ever wanted to burden you and Alex with. You were both so young when he was killed.” She paused and drew a deep breath to keep her voice from shaking. “I didn’t want this to be a part of either of your memories.”

“Alex doesn’t know about the affair. I never told her.” Stephen shook his head. “She has such an idealized view of Dad. I couldn’t hurt her like that.”

Before Emily could respond, Stephen’s cell phone rang, giving her time to truly assimilate what she’d learned. Stephen knew about Bernard’s affair and that there was a pregnancy. But how much of the rest of the story did he know? Did he know about the accusations against Siobhan?

She fingered the small shamrock charm hidden beneath her blouse. What about the child? Did he know—

“That was Janet,” Stephen announced, breaking into her thoughts. “She’s getting out of class early.”

“Well, I guess you’ll want to go home and meet her, then.” Emily scooted out of the booth.

Stephen rose and handed over her purse. They wove their way through the tables, out of the restaurant, and into the cool November afternoon. As they walked through the parking lot, Emily’s thoughts returned again to her husband, his mistress, and their child.

A child born during a night of fear and blood.

A child whose true identity must remain hidden.

If certain individuals within the vampire community learned the child survived, Bernard’s murder—his
sacrifice
—would’ve been an exercise in futility, and Emily refused to allow his death, and her family’s pain, to ever be meaningless.

“NOW, THAT’S JUST FUCKING CREEPY,” FREDDY HAVER
said. “How can you trap a soul in a doll?”

“I don’t know.” Alex ground her fingertips into her closed eyes until sparks invaded the darkness in which she was confined. “But that’s what I saw. Once the dolls were broken, the souls within were released, and the Dollmaker was seriously pissed off.”

Varik had finally made his way into the mobile lab, and they were discussing Freddy’s and Reyes’s findings on the doll left with Mindy Johnson’s car, as well as other evidence. Morgan had thankfully gone back inside the Municipal Center.

Alex sighed and rapidly blinked her eyes. The star-bursts cleared from her vision, leaving an unending darkness in their wake. She squinted and slowly looked from side to side. The inky blackness remained unchanged.

Sandalwood and cinnamon washed over her along with the rustle of clothing as Varik shifted beside her.
Are you all right? Is the pain getting worse?

His thoughts slipped easily into her mind. She frowned and once again covered her eyes with her sunglasses. Ever since she’d pursued the shadow entity into the Shadowlands, the blood-bond had been harder to seal. She was now developing a headache from attempting to keep her mental shields clamped tight enough to prevent Varik’s thoughts from trickling over into her own, and it wasn’t working.

Plus, she was still pissed at him for not telling her about his past relationship with Morgan. Not telling her about Edward she understood, but failing to mention the woman whose investigation could be the deciding factor in whether Alex lived or died—that was inexcusable.
I’m fine
, she replied.
Just a headache
.

“If he is trapping souls, why do it?” Freddy asked, drawing their attention. “What would be the point?”

“Blood substitute,” Reyes answered from across the lab. “Think about it. As vampires we don’t physically need to feed on blood to survive. It’s the residual psychic energy in the blood that we really need. If you could trap a soul, or even a portion of one, and then find a way to feed off that energy, you could theoretically sustain yourself on it and forgo the need for blood.”

“But we crave the taste of blood,” Alex countered. “It’s why Vlad’s Tears were invented, to curb our blood-hunger between feedings.”

“True,” Reyes said. “However, you’re forgetting that blood-hunger for us is similar to a human craving nicotine. It’s a form of addiction and most addictions can be broken with time, training, and practice.”

“So
if
the Dollmaker is trapping souls, and
if
he’s found a way to feed off those souls, why do it at all?” Varik asked. “Like Reyes said, blood-hunger is an addiction. Why break the addiction in favor of something as elaborate as soul trapping?”

“Maybe something happened and he can’t feed normally,” Freddy offered. “Alex, during your encounter with him, did you notice if he still had fangs or had them filed down?”

The image of the Dollmaker screaming in rage as he charged toward her and her father drifted before Alex in the black sea of her vision. “He still had fangs.” She shuddered. “I think whatever made him start trapping
souls wasn’t a physical problem. I think it may be psychological.”

“What do you mean?” Varik asked.

Alex sighed and drummed her fingers on top of the workstation at which she sat. “He’s a collector. Yes, he makes these dolls, but the dolls themselves aren’t that important to him. If they were, he wouldn’t have given up even one of them. The dolls are vessels. It’s the souls that matter. He’s collecting
them
so there has to be a reason for it, something beyond just feeding off the residual energy.” She stopped drumming her fingers. “Reyes, the doll left with Mindy’s car, was it damaged in some way?”