The Vampire's Seduction (33 page)

“I’m the new guest of honor,” Olivia put in, standing between me and Melaphia, her arms folded across her chest.

“No offense, darlin’, but so what? We’ve got a crisis here.”

Melaphia pinched the bridge of her nose as if to ward off a headache. “Jack, you’re forgetting something. The party wasn’t just to introduce Alger to Savannah, it’s an opportunity for William to get him—and now Olivia—together with a few of the West Coast settlers that he brought over here earlier.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that. But again, so what?”

Olivia spoke up. “This is not a social visit. Before he left for America, Alger told me that he and William were to meet with some vampires who either led their own colonies or represent groups of vampires that have established themselves in the west. They were to discuss some important . . . issues.”

If there was anything I didn’t need to hear about right now, it was more freakin’
issues.
I’d had enough issues hit me in the last few days to last even a vampire’s lifetime. “What kind of issues?”

“Of mutual protection. Ways to import more peaceful European vampires like me and Alger and the ones that William has already brought over here.”

“Mutual protection?”

“Strength in numbers, Jack.” Olivia looked uncomfortable, like something fearful had just walked across her grave, so to speak.

“Protection from what?”

“Demons like Reedrek.”

“How many of him are there?” A tingly feeling was starting along my spine—the same feeling I got the time I walked by a wood chipper and narrowly missed getting staked by a large splinter from a used Christmas tree bound for somebody’s mulch pile.

“Too bloody many,” Olivia said, and rubbed her arms as if suddenly chilled.

“I thought this thing with Reedrek was some personal feud between him and William. Are you saying that there are other vampires like Reedrek coming over here to—to—do what exactly?”

“We don’t know that yet. That’s what the meeting is supposed to be about.”

“How will I know the so-called peaceful vamps when they get here?”

Olivia shrugged. “That’s hard to say.”

“Well, you’re just the Oracle of freakin’ Delphi, aren’t you?” I could tell there was more she wasn’t saying. It was that intuition thing again. Part of me wanted to grab her and shake her until she told me everything, but another part was starting to wonder if I really gave a damn. This was William’s deal, and he obviously hadn’t meant to include me, so to hell with all of it. And to hell with William. About then I noticed the guilty look on Melaphia’s face. She was toying with one of her dreadlocks and looking at the floor.

“I don’t guess it would do any good to ask you what you know about this,” I said to her.

“I’m sorry. He’ll have to tell you himself.” She looked up at me, her face strained. “When he gets back. Which brings me to the most important reason to go forward with the party.”

“Which is?”

“Five vampires in one place would be a mighty temptation to a devil like Reedrek. I believe he will come out of hiding.”

Olivia said, “Until then, Jack, you and I have to get over to William’s plantation. The other vampires have arrived and since William is out of pocket we have to greet them.”

“Oh, we do, do we?” I picked up the empty blood jar again, wanting to hurl it against the expensive cabinetry. Instead I threw it in the air and caught it with one hand. “Well, who put you on the welcoming committee, blondie? I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you go on over there by yourself and play the good little hostess.”

“I just want to help,” Olivia said evenly. “We have to explain what happened to Alger.”

“But don’t tell them William is missing,” Melaphia urged.

“Where the hell should I say he is? Skiing in Aspen? Snorkeling in Tahiti?”

“Tell them the truth,” Melaphia said. “Tell them he’s out looking for Alger’s killer.”

I turned toward the wall and set the jar in the sink. Still not used to my enhanced strength, I used too much force and it shattered, scattering glass and blood droplets out across the shiny stainless steel. “I don’t even know what my role is in this mess and the two of you either can’t or won’t tell me. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just walk out that door and never come back.”

Melaphia’s dark eyes grew shiny. “Because William’s counting on you, Jack. And because he’s your . . . family.”

Aw, crap.

Melaphia knew I couldn’t stand to see her cry. She’d known it since before she could talk. Olivia looked at me expectantly. What the hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. Where would I go, anyway? Something told me that even the California coast wasn’t far enough to get away from what was brewing here in Savannah.

I nodded toward Olivia. “Get your fancy coat. Let’s go.”

On the way to the plantation, Olivia explained to me what she and Melaphia had done for Shari. She said that they’d found some incantation to get her to a better place, as well as a nice location to bury her body. I was glad for poor Shari, but to tell you the truth, most of it went in one ear and out the other. I couldn’t get what Olivia had told me about all those other vampires out of my mind. I used to think I wanted to meet other blood drinkers. Be careful what you wish for.

I longed to go back to my normal world, the world of just a few days ago when William and I were the only bloodsucker act in town except for the occasional drifter or imported vamp that William introduced to society and then sent along his merry way. Yessir, Jackie-boy, welcome to the wide world of vampires, where you can’t tell the good bloodsuckers from the bad ones without a program.

William’s plantation was about a forty-five-minute drive outside Savannah, between the marsh and Isle of Hope. Well, forty-five minutes for most people, thirty for me. Olivia gasped as we drove down the driveway, or lane, as William liked to call it. It was something out of a picture book, with its long rows of live oaks lining both sides of the drive. I would have loved to have seen it in the daytime. Of course, there were lots of things I would have loved to have seen under the sun, but there’s no use crying over spilled blood.

At the end of the long drive was a meticulously restored mansion that William used mostly for entertaining and as a retreat. He called it his country house. It was actually still a working plantation, though the human field hands had all been replaced by high-tech agricultural machinery. William had a professional farmer to handle the planting, dusting, and harvesting and a professional staff to maintain the mansion and make sure that guests were waited on hand and foot. He had a houseful of priceless antiques—silver, porcelain, and collectible gewgaws, along with a couple of classic cars in what used to be the carriage house. The dove gray Thunderbird was my own personal favorite.

When Olivia and I drove up, we were greeted by the estate’s gardener/driver, whose job included parking your car when you drove under the porte cochere. Inside, I said hello to Chandler the butler and introduced him to Olivia.

“Mr. Thorne’s guests are in the sitting room. I built a fire and served drinks. Will there be anything else right now, Mr. McShane?” Chandler took Olivia’s leather coat and looked at me expectantly.

“No. That’ll be it for a while. I’ll ring if we need anything.” Chandler nodded, hung Olivia’s coat in the hall closet, and left. Like Melaphia, he was from another long line of loyal and well-paid family retainers. I used to wonder what kind of hereditary deal his family had made with William but I never got up the nerve to ask. It seemed too impolite. Chandler was the poster boy of polite. He served warm blood in fine crystal as smoothly as he served the expensive Bordeaux from the world-class wine cellar. A true gentleman’s gentleman.

I took a deep breath as Olivia and I stood outside the closed double doors of the sitting room. “Is there anything I need to know before I meet these guys?” I probably had met them briefly when William had first smuggled them into the country, but since he didn’t allow me any contact to speak of with Eurovamps, I figured I wouldn’t recognize them and was pretty sure the rich, uppity farts wouldn’t remember me either.

“Just be your sweet self, Jack,” Olivia said, standing on tiptoe to kiss me on the cheek. Geez, what had gotten into her? Her mood had changed completely since we’d left William’s house. Maybe she’d sensed how close I’d come to walking away.

I opened the doors and we walked in. Two guys of about my own human age were sitting in front of the fire chatting. One had dark hair, the other was blond. They stood up and stepped toward us.

The dark-haired one extended his hand and said, “I’m Iban. You must be Jack and Olivia. I spoke to Melaphia on the phone earlier and she said you’d be coming out.” He was of medium height and slender build. Dressed in a loose-fitting (what Melaphia would call unstructured) black suit and expensive-looking black loafers with no socks, he looked a little bit like Antonio Banderas. His hair was long enough to curl up on his collar some, and he had a subtle, aristocratic-sounding Spanish accent. Think Ricardo Montalban and rich Corinthian leather.

His handshake was firm, his smile sincere. Despite myself, I liked him immediately. He kissed Olivia’s hand and she gave a little mock curtsy.

“And this is Tobias,” Iban said, raising his hand toward the blond guy in chinos and a Hawaiian shirt.

“My friends called me Tobey,” the blond said. He gave Olivia and me a big smile and handshakes as well. “It’s great to meet you guys.” He seemed just as nice as Iban.

I scratched my head. “Tobey, you look familiar. Did I see you on your way through Savannah when William first brought you over?”

Tobey looked confused for a couple of seconds and then shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m not one of William’s imports. I’m a native. I was sired by a vampire who was descended from an ancient clan out west.”

I decided I wouldn’t show my ignorance by admitting that I didn’t know there
were
any ancient clans out west. Or anywhere else in North America for that matter. Ancient? Man, I had a lot to learn about vampires.

“And as for where you’ve seen him before,” Iban said, “have you ever watched the racing they do under the lights in the desert? California and Nevada, isn’t it? Tobey here is the reigning points champion.”

Tobey waved his hand modestly. “They can’t show it live on the East Coast ’cause it would come on so late at night. But you can see the taped version on ESPN4, Monday nights. It’s no big deal.”

My breath caught in my throat. No big deal?
No big deal?
To be a race car driver was only my life’s ambition. Only my fondest dream in all the world. And this Tobey guy was living it. Why couldn’t I have been made into a vampire out west where this was going on? But no, I had to have been made on the East Coast. Some bloodsuckers had all the luck.

“How do you do it? You—you don’t have to practice or go to drivers’ meetings or anything like that in the daytime?” I asked.

“Nah. I’ve got it all worked out. I have this recluse act going on. They call me the—”

“Nightflash,” I said numbly. “I know. I’m a big fan.”

Tobey grinned. “Hey, thanks. Yeah, we only practice and qualify at night because of the heat, so I’ve got it made. But William deserves a lot of the credit. He’s the one who came up with the scheme. I met him right before he made you. Anyway, I was really into the railroad because it was the fastest thing that existed at the time. Later, I raced anything that moved at night. Like, uh, in the sixties, I was into moonlight surfing and midnight drag racing for a while.”

“Isn’t that how you met the Beach Boys?” Iban asked.

“Yeah. That was a blast. Legendary parties that lasted for days—uh, I mean nights. I even sang backup on a few of their tunes. William and I have kept in touch by phone, then on the Web. You know how he has his network of contacts he touches base with every now and then. The desert racing league was his idea, and the whole Nightflash thing. He’s a real idea man, that William. Real resourceful.”

I sighed. Man, what I wouldn’t give to be in big-time racing. While Tobey got the big-time race car, the pit crew, the money, and the limelight, I got to race locally at dirt tracks under cheap, flickering stadium lights. Talk about a raw deal. Being a demon of Demolition Derbies was my only claim to fame. I felt Olivia’s elbow nudging me in the rib region.

“Jack? Iban asked you a question,” she said gently.

“Huh?”

“We were just talking about this portrait as you were coming in. There’s nothing like the old masters. It has to be Dutch—such realism.” He shrugged. “Look at the firelight on that face. I’ve tried for years to find someone with William’s charisma to be in one of my movies. Don’t tell me—I’ll bet he passes the likeness off as one of his ancestors, right?”

“That’s right,” I said. I stared at the portrait of William hanging majestically above the marble fireplace as if I’d never seen it before. Yeah, no use crying over spilled blood. It wasn’t William’s fault that I’d missed opportunities in my life. He couldn’t change the rules of vampirehood, vampiredom, what-the-hell-ever it was. Them’s the breaks, Jackie. The detour signs and out-and-out roadblocks of fate had curtailed all my dreams. I was stuck right here, stalled out in Savannah, G-A, with good old Daddy Dearest.

William

Werm made a gurgling sound and moaned as Reedrek fastened the manacles around his wrists. Chaining him was a kindness since there was no coffin to keep him immobile. In addition, I had the feeling that having him screaming and throwing himself against the walls would annoy Reedrek. As I knew well, annoying Reedrek could be hazardous to your health.

“That takes care of our little science experiment. We’ll see exactly what more than a little taste of your bastardized blood can do.” Reedrek dusted his hands together. “Now let’s get down to business.”

I twisted my arms against the ropes holding them down. “This isn’t what I call business.”

He gave me a sad look. “No, I suppose not. But I was referring to your little undead smuggling ring.”

Now he had my full attention. I’d thought we were going to discuss my mixed blood again; Reedrek was famous for his thoroughness when his interest was piqued. His relentless predilection for secrets had translated into scores of people being tortured and killed throughout the millennium—until they gave Reedrek what he wanted.