Murder in Vein (2010) (12 page)

It had been a long night. After returning home from
their girls' night out, Madison had been agitated and unable to
sleep, partially from the coffee but mostly from everything she
was learning about the vampires. Dodie again offered some
medicinal help, but this time Madison rejected it. For hours she'd
turned over all the information that had been thrown at her in
the last couple of days until her brain finally gave in and turned
off for the night.

"Come on," the voice told her. "You need to get up." The bedside lamp snapped on as the hand shook her again.

Shielding her eyes from the light, Madison slowly opened one
eye. Standing over her was Dodie. "What's going on?"

"I need you to get up right now."

Madison glanced at the clock. It was 4:20; she'd only been
asleep for three hours. She turned over. "Just give me another
hour."

"We don't have an hour."

Dodie threw back the covers, letting the chilly air hit the girl's
body. Madison shivered and started moving to get out of bed.
Now that she had some of her own clothes, she'd returned to
wearing oversized tee shirts to bed.

"You need to come downstairs right this minute," Dodie
insisted.

"Can't I pee first?"

Dodie hesitated, weighing the request. "Yes, but hurry. Use
the bathroom, then slip into some jeans."

It was then that Madison heard voices coming from downstairs. Again, she glanced at the bedside clock, letting the time
register in her exhausted brain. "Shouldn't you be getting ready
to go to bed and not entertaining?"

"Hurry!" Dodie hissed. "The council is downstairs waiting for
you.

The news hit Madison like a cold shower. She backed away
from Dodie and looked around for something to use as a weapon.
"You are going to kill me, aren't you?"

"This isn't about you, Madison." From the back of the desk
chair, Dodie plucked the jeans Madison had worn just a few
hours earlier and shook them out. "It's an emergency meeting.
Mike Notchey's downstairs, too." She looked up at Madison.
"Another girl's been found dead."

The memory of the horrible photos exploded in Madison's
head. "But-," Madison started to say.

Dodie cut her off. "Madison, please. Samuel does not like to
be kept waiting. And he gets more surly as the sun comes up."

Letting the urgency in Dodie's voice guide her, Madison buttoned her lip and dashed into the bathroom. A minute later, she came out, face washed, teeth and hair hastily brushed, and pulled
on the jeans Dodie handed her.

"What about this?" Madison asked, indicating the tee shirt
she'd worn to bed.

"It's fine," Dodie said, then hesitated. Taking in the seductive
way the shirt outlined Madison's bare breasts, she remembered
how Samuel had looked at the girl. "On second thought, you'd
better put on a bra."

As Madison pulled off the tee shirt and slipped into a bra,
Dodie went to the closet and sifted through the few items she'd
brought over from Madison's apartment. Settling on a loose and
shapeless sweater in a dull brown, she brought it to Madison.
"Here, put this on, and pull your hair back into a ponytail. And
don't cover your bruises."

Even though her head was full of questions, Madison quickly
did as she was told, ending with slipping her feet into a pair of
basic sneakers.

"Come on now," Dodie called over her shoulder as she headed
for the door.

As she followed Dodie down the staircase, Madison could
hear the voices better. They were coming from the great room,
the spacious living area that served as a living room and dining
room located to the right of the stairs. Several people were talking at once. As she got closer, Madison realized an argument was
in progress. She recognized Stacie Neroni's voice immediately, as
well as Mike Notchey's, but she couldn't tell if they were arguing
with each other or in favor of the same issue.

At the bottom of the stairs, Madison could see a group of
people gathered around the Dedhams' large dining table. When
Dodie led her to the table, everyone stopped talking and turned to stare at her. Madison shifted from one foot to the other in
discomfort.

In all, there were six people at the table. On one side sat Stacie
Neroni and a middle-aged woman with short blond hair and a
friendly, open face. Across from them sat Doug and a very goodlooking man dressed in black, with thick, black hair combed back
and curling at his collar. He had an angular face partially covered
by a close-cropped black beard. His nose was straight, his lips
full. Black eyebrows bunched in displeasure above dark, intense
eyes. Seated at the end closest to her was Mike Notchey. He was
dressed in his off-duty uniform of jeans and sweatshirt, but the
dark circles under his eyes and gauntness of his face suggested he
hadn't been to bed all night. They all looked at her with furrowed
brows of concern, except for the blond woman, who gave her a
small smile of encouragement.

Madison gasped softly as her eyes traveled the length of the
heavy wooden table to the far end. Seated at the head was the
man Madison had seen in her dream. He wore a fine-knit sweater
the color of fresh salmon, which played beautifully against his
espresso skin, and sunglasses even though they were inside and it
was only early morning.

A small, slow smile crossed his lips as he rose to greet her.
"Miss Rose, we're very sorry we disturbed your sleep."

His voice was earthy and exotic, almost hypnotic. Hearing it,
Madison fought the urge to ignore the others and go to him-to
put her hand in his so she could once again feel the stroke of his
fingers against her palm. But something inside her snapped her
out of it. Instead, Madison crossed her arms in front of her, now
glad Dodie had made her put on a bra and the bulky sweater.

Stretching out a long arm, the man at the end of the table
indicated Stacie. "I believe you already know Stacie Neroni. Next
to her is Kate Thornton"

The man next to Doug interrupted the introductions. "It is
not necessary that she know our names, Samuel," he said in a
voice with a cultured British accent.

Samuel turned his head toward the man who spoke. "Considering what we're going to ask of her, I think it's only courteous."

"I agree with Samuel," added Stacie, glaring at the man who'd
interrupted.

"But of course you would," the man shot back at her in a
snide tone. "You have your fangs so far up his arse, you can taste
the 0 negative he had for breakfast."

Stacie stood up, fangs bared, and leaned across the table. "I'll
show you fangs, you little pissant."

Terrified, Madison jumped back.

The man waved Stacie off like an annoying gnat. "Puritanical
do-gooder."

Samuel rapped his knuckles on the table. "That's enough, you
two. This is not the time and place for your petty mutual loathing." His voice was authoritative but not loud.

Stacie sheathed her fangs and sat down, but she remained
ruffled and wary of her opponent, who seemed bored with the
whole transaction.

After a moment's pause, Samuel continued his introductions.
"The man, Miss Rose, who does not want you to know his name,
is Colin Reddy." Colin glared at Madison, causing her to back up
several more steps until she felt Dodie's hand on the small of her
back, encouraging her to stand her ground.

"And, of course," Samuel continued, "you already know Doug
and Mike."

Samuel placed his hand against his own chest. "And I am
Samuel La Croix. With the exception of two members who were
not able to be here this morning and Detective Notchey, this,"
he announced, with a small sweep of his hand, "is the governing board of the California Vampire Council." His smile widened.
"Not a glamorous name, but I can assure you we get the job done
when it comes to monitoring activities that concern the local
vampire community, including internal grievances." He shot a
stern look first at Colin, then at Stacie.

Mike Notchey indicated an empty chair next to him. "Sit
down, Madison, here-next to me."

"Yes, please sit down, Madison," Samuel said, then paused. "I
hope you don't mind me calling you Madison."

Madison looked back at Dodie, who encouraged her with a
little nod to take a seat. As soon as she did, Samuel took his own
again.

"Good," Samuel commented. He studied some papers before
him. "We have a lot to discuss." He looked up at Madison. "I
understand Mike told you about the rash of murders concerning
young women?"

Unbidden, the photos Notchey had shown her came to mind.
Madison shoved them aside and nodded. "Yes, I'm aware of
them."

"We were beginning to think these had nothing to do with
you," Samuel went on, "that maybe what happened to you was
just a random occurrence, a coincidence. After all, you don't have
a bloodline, and the other women did." He stopped and looked
at her. His forehead furrowed in question, relaying the emo tion his sunglasses kept hidden. "I've been told you know about
bloodlines."

Madison looked down at her left palm. "Yes," she replied,
looking back up. "I know what it means." She found it easier to
speak to Samuel without seeing his eyes, as if she were speaking
to his back instead of his face.

"Now we're not so sure," Samuel went on, "that it doesn't have
something to do with you."

Colin, slouched in his chair, caught Madison's eye and sent
her a grimace, purposefully showing his fangs. He licked his lips.
Madison shivered and hugged herself again.

"Stop it, Colin," demanded Samuel. "Grow up or leave. We'll
still have a quorum without you."

Like a bad child only temporarily chastised, Colin rolled his
eyes and put his fangs away.

"There's been another murder," Mike told her.

"Another?" Madison felt herself grow cold at the idea of
another young woman ravaged by a monster.

"This one," added Stacie, "makes us think that what happened
to you is definitely connected"

"I ... I don't understand," Madison stammered. "I don't have
that thing on my hand."

With a small jerk of his chin, Samuel sent an order to Mike
Notchey. Mike pulled out a large brown envelope like the one
he'd brought over the day before and opened it.

Madison looked in horror at the envelope. "No! I won't look
at those again." She started to get up, but Dodie came up behind
her and put her hands on Madison's shoulders. With a light
touch but surprising strength, she kept Madison in her chair.

"Madison," Dodie said in a gentle voice, "these aren't the
same photos. Just as disturbing, but we need you to see them."

Madison shut her eyes tight. Next to her, she felt Mike
moving.

"Madison," Mike asked. "Do you know this woman?" When
Madison didn't answer, he added, "It is very important."

From across the table, Madison heard Samuel say, "Please,
Madison, we need your help." His voice wasn't a plea as much as
a command. "These women need your help."

Madison opened her eyes, but she didn't look down. Instead,
she looked across the table at Samuel. He was sitting back in
his chair looking straight at her, watching her from behind his
glasses. His dark face was still as stone. His full lips were relaxed
with neither smile nor scorn.

She swallowed and looked from Samuel to each of the others
around the table. They were all watching her: Stacie with impatience, Doug with concern, Colin with boredom. Kate put a hand
on Madison's hand and leaned forward. "You can do this, Madison," she whispered. "You're stronger than you realize."

Madison glanced at Mike. His anger and brusqueness of the
day before was gone. On his weary face was sorrow.

Steeling her shoulders, Madison looked down at the photos.
Like the women in the other photos, this woman was dead. She
was pale as fog, but instead of being cut ear to ear, her throat had
received short cuts in several spots. Her torso also showed a few
short, deep gashes. And both wrists had been neatly slit.

"No! This can't be!" she shouted. Madison looked into Mike's
eyes. "This is some trick, isn't it?"

"Do you know this woman?" Mike asked the question in a
deadpan voice, even though he already knew the answer.

odie escorted Madison to the den and told her to wait. There
was already a man there. He was sitting on the sofa, his nose
stuck in a book. He looked up when they came into the
room. Dodie introduced him as Jerry Lerma, Kate Thornton's
husband.