Forever Starts Now Page 24

  "It's a wonderful place. The personnel are very discreet."

  "I'm sure. May I offer you a drink? Something to eat?"

  In her experience, such suggestions tended to set limits to what she was ready to offer in exchange for blood. It was better, she had found, than to deal with the awkwardness of an offer for a last drink in a more private place.

  Falcon, however, did not seem to play by the same rules she followed. He answered her offer with a small smile and a shake of his head—then placed his left hand high on her thigh at the same time as he offered her his right wrist. She jumped at his touch and moved away from him once more.

  "I think there's a misunderstanding here,” she started. Her words, cold as ice, made her displeasure clear and stopped Falcon as he was starting to get closer again. “All I want is blood."

  "And you'll have blood,” he replied, nonplussed. “But don't tell me you expect to get it for free. You're the one who asked for a man, sweetheart. You knew what you were doing."

  Too late, Claire began to understand why she hadn't seen a single glass of alcohol or bottle of beer since walking in. This establishment, it seemed, was only a bar by name. Matthew had told her such places existed, where blood was exchanged for sexual favors right on the premises, but she had never imagined one existed in her hometown. Her decision not to go to On The Edge seemed like the wrong one, suddenly. At least, there, she would have known what to expect.

  "I made a mistake."

  Without further explanations, she slid out of the alcove, pushing the curtains aside as she stumbled out. She hurried back the same way the waitress had guided her in, the muffled moans and sighs suddenly jumping at her from everywhere. How could she have been so naive!

  The doorman raised an eyebrow at her when she reached the door, but he let her out without a word. She walked out into the street, unable to resist taking in a deep breath to clear her mind of the atmosphere she had just escaped.

  "Do you have any idea how much they charge humans for the cover?"

  The voice behind her was angry, its rumbling now resembling the growl of thunder in the distance. She turned around to discover that Falcon had followed her. His eyes were black pits of coal.

  "As I said, I made a mistake by coming here.” Shrugging, she pulled cash from her short jacket's pocket. “I'll pay you back. How much—"

  With a raging gesture, he batted at her hand. A few bills fell down to the pavement.

  "I don't want your cash. I want what I paid for."

  He grabbed at her, his large hand easily encircling her arm to pull her toward him. Things seemed to slow down in Claire's head, and she had time to wonder if he was in his right mind before her reflexes kicked in. Until that moment, she had never put to use the self-defense moves Matthew had taught her, but she reacted as though she used the techniques every day. Her hand closed on Falcon's wrist, crushing it until he let go with a shout.

  "You bitch! What do you think—"

  He had started advancing on Claire again; clearly, he needed another clue that she wasn't interested. A blow to his face stopped him cold, and the smell of fresh blood tickled Claire's nose as Falcon covered his own with both hands.

  "Not very clever, that, picking up a fight with a vamp."

  Surprised by the mocking comment when she hadn't heard anyone approach, Claire pivoted toward the approaching woman, her hands still up and ready to keep fighting. Dressed in dark colors with two stakes protruding from loops in her belt, she was unmistakably a Special Enforcer.

  "If I were you, I'd find a hospital,” she added, gesturing toward Falcon's face. “That looks nasty."

  With muttered insults and moans of pain, he walked away. Claire lowered her arms, but she didn't relax in any way.

  "He provoked me,” she said warily.

  The Special Enforcer snorted. “Yeah, I saw that. Funny how the big guys always seem to think smaller girls are easy picks.” She bent down and picked up a couple of bills from the pavement. “You're new in town, huh? Vamps around here usually know what to expect at the Scarlet Bow. And now so do you. Be more careful, from now on. You don't want a S.E. to think you're attacking humans without provocation."

  She stepped closer to hand the bills back to Claire, and as she did her face came into the full light of the nearby lamppost. Claire blinked as she recognized her; she was the girl Jonas had been kissing in those pictures, the girl he had had an affair with. She had only seen her in person once, although very briefly, but she was certain it was her.

  Apparently, she wasn't the only one who remembered the brief encounter. The girl's eyes widened, and she took a step back as though expecting to be attacked.

  "You're Claire, aren't you?"

  Before Claire could even think of denying it, the Special Enforcer had tugged a stake free of her belt.

  "You shouldn't have come back,” she said, her voice sliding into harsh tones that promised violence if she wasn't obeyed. “But I know someone who will be very glad to hear you're finally ashes."

  Claire took a step back, raising both hands in front of her in a calming gesture.

  "Listen, I had nothing to do with Jonas being accused—"

  "Don't even try to feed that crap to me. Of course you knew. I know you threatened to make him lose his license."

  She came closer to Claire, who continued retreating in front of her. Teaching a man to think with something else than what hid in his pants was one thing; confronting an armed Special Enforcer was something else altogether, and Claire wasn't in a hurry to try the experience.

  "I was going to talk to the police. Show them he didn't kill me."

  As focused as she was on Claire, the woman never noticed Diane walking up behind her. Claire's eyes flickered toward her, just for a second, but she tried not to give any hint that they weren't alone.

  "He still wouldn't get his license back. But staking you for good ... Do you know how often he talks about you, still?"

  She slashed at the air in front of her with her stake, more for show than anything else. The next second, the stake was clattering on the pavement as she clutched at Diane's arm, looped around her throat. Claire watched without a word or a movement as the Special Enforcer's body slowly went slack, until Diane let go of her. She fell to the ground, unconscious, but her heartbeat continued to echo in Claire's ears.

  "What are you doing here?” she asked Diane, finding it hard to believe it was all a coincidence.

  "Getting you out of trouble, it seems. Come on, let's get out of here before someone walks in on us."

  "We can't leave her like that.” She gestured toward the unconscious Special Enforcer. “A vamp might find her an easy snack."

  Diane tilted her head to one side and observed Claire as though she had never seen her before.

  "She was talking about staking you, you realize that, right?"

  "And if she died because I left her on the pavement I'd be just as bad as..."

  She trailed off when Diane rolled her eyes at her and walked past the woman lying on the ground to come and knock on the bar's door.

  "Call the police,” she told the doorman when he peeked through the square opening. “Some guy just attacked a girl from behind, knocked her right out."

  The door opened and the man walked out, a cell phone already in his hand. Diane gave Claire a look that asked if she was satisfied, and at her nod they left together, ignoring the doorman when he called after them. They walked down three blocks before Claire broke the silence.

  "It's not a coincidence that you showed up here two nights after me, is it?"

  "Of course not.” Diane snorted and looked at Claire sideways. “And just in time, too. What were you thinking, coming back here?"

  Claire shrugged. She dropped her gaze to the pavement in front of her rather than confront Diane's accusing eyes. “I wanted to see my friends."

  "Your friends? And is Jonas in that category? Or her?” She gestured toward the way they had come.

  Claire sighed. W
hatever had happened, she couldn't change any of it anymore, even if she had wanted to. “You didn't come here to talk to me about Jonas, did you?"

  "No. I came here to tell you why I drained you."

  Surprised, Claire stopped walking and looked at Diane. She had not expected such guilt in her voice when she talked about killing her, and she was tempted to think Diane was simply playing with her. However, when Diane looked back at her and met her gaze, all Claire could see in those clear eyes and ageless face was openness. With a small nod to show she was listening, she started walking again, with Diane at her side.

  "A hundred and twenty odd years ago, my Sire died.” There was old pain in those few words, and if anything they made Claire listen more carefully. “He fought with another Master about a matter of territory, and he died. I wasn't the only one of his Childer, but I was the youngest one, and the only one without a Childe of my own. I had never been alone before. From one night to the next my entire clan dispersed and I was left by myself. To say that I didn't like it would be an understatement."

  Diane raised her head up toward the sky for a few instants and a soft, sad smile played on her lips. Whatever she was seeing, it was more than high-rise buildings and a bit of sky beyond them. Claire bit her tongue not to ask what had happened next, or how that concerned her in any way. Diane brought herself back to the street they were descending with a sharp intake of breath. She was looking straight ahead, now, and she made a small gesture as they reached a crossroads for Claire to bear right.

  "I looked for a Childe right away,” she started again, “and I was lucky enough to find a suitable candidate very quickly."

  Claire couldn't help saying his name then. “Matthew."

  A small inclination of her head was the only sign that Diane had heard. “I found him in an inn. He had been traveling for his business, and he was on his way back home. I listened to him talk to another traveler, I watched him laugh, and I thought he'd be perfect. I found his room, that night, and I sired him. When he woke up, he was everything I had wanted. Except for one little detail."

  A quick glance from Diane was all that Claire needed to show she was still following the story. This second name, she pronounced without reverence, and maybe, instead, a bit of resentment.

  "Helena."

  Another nod acknowledged that she was right. “That very first night, after I caught his first prey for him and taught him to feed, he asked if we could turn her.” Diane laughed, briefly, a sharp echo down the quiet street. Her laugh held no trace of humor. “Here I was, so proud of making such a beautiful Childe, and all he could talk about was how he wanted his young wife to join us. I refused to turn her for him, and he figured he would do it himself. He escaped my notice one night and went to her, he told her what he was and that he wanted her to be like him."

  From what she knew of Helena, from the dozens of letters she had read, Claire could imagine how that talk had gone before Diane even continued. She felt sorry for Matthew.

  "In that time, vampires weren't as accepted as they are today. Anyone else would have been frightened half to death or would have tried to stake him. From what he told me, all she did was cry out of happiness that he wasn't dead beyond her reach. But she refused to let him turn her. He came back to me a broken man, and I took him away, where I hoped he'd be able to forget her. I took him to a gathering of vampires so he could get to know others, learn about being a vampire from people who weren't me. And that's where he heard about the old stories, about how vampires used to protect humans and how we were created for that very purpose.” Just a touch of exasperation crept into Diane's voice, indicating all too well what she thought of that. “He got it in his head that it was his purpose too, and from that moment on he wrote to Helena, and kept an eye on what went on in her life. When she started dating someone else, he stalked the man for weeks to make sure he was suitable for her. And he made this promise to protect her, and her children. You know what happened after that."

  In the space of a few steps, everything Claire knew of Matthew, of Helena, even of Diane, shifted slightly. Nothing was altered dramatically by what she had just heard, but a few things were explained, and others fell into place in this large puzzle that was her Sire and his relationships with the women in his life. She thought she knew him better, now, like she had known him better after reading the letters or after talking to him, her last human night. And still...

  "I don't see what any of this has to do with you turning me."

  "No, of course you wouldn't."

  Another gesture, and Claire turned left this time, crossing the street after letting a car pass. The neighborhood was beginning to feel vaguely familiar, and Claire suspected where this would end. Diane seemed to follow, and yet she was the one leading the way.

  "For years, I saw Matthew's face light up every time he talked of Helena, or whenever he received one of her letters. I had been taught that vampires didn't love, but Matthew proved to me otherwise. After she died, he protected her family, but the fire was gone. And then, you came to On The Edge.” Her hand touched Claire's elbow, a fleeting touch that brought Claire's eyes to her. They stopped together. “You should have seen his eyes, that first night, when you confronted Jonas. Every time he talked about you after that, it was like hearing him talk about Helena all over again. When I found you in his apartment ... well, I figured that this time I could give him what he wanted, even if he wasn't asking for it. Even if he didn't know he wanted it. And that's where the problem is."

  Claire wanted to protest that she wasn't a gift Diane could offer anyone, and that she had never wanted to become a vampire, that she might have been one of these girls Matthew slept with for only a night, and then her life would have ended for nothing. None of these objections came out however, and instead she tightened her fist, hard enough that her nails dug into her skin, and asked, sotto voce:

  "The problem?"

  Diane started walking again, and she took a dozen steps before realizing that Claire hadn't followed. She stopped and looked back, raising an eyebrow, and Claire caught up with her, both impatient and afraid to finally, maybe, understand what was going on in Matthew's head.

  "Matthew had this notion that his duty was to protect you. He couldn't stop me from draining you, and he'd never hurt me to avenge you. So he holds himself responsible for your death."

  The urge to roll her eyes was almost too hard to control. She remembered hearing something very much like this from Matthew, once. She hadn't paid it much mind then. Maybe she should have.

  "He didn't save you,” Diane continued, “so he has to be punished. And he didn't find a more appropriate punishment than to send you away."

  "He didn't send me away, I left,” Claire jumped in, frowning as she remembered the events in question with more details than she wanted. The irony wasn't lost on her that the woman she had first been jealous of was the one now giving her an insight into Matthew's mind.

  "You left,” Diane repeated. “After he arranged to make you mad enough. Can't you see how he manipulated you?"

  Her impatient words flooded Claire's mind like icy water. She shivered. The memories were replaying in her head once more, but as before the small slant of Diane's words changed everything Claire thought she knew.

  "So...” She couldn't raise her voice higher than a whisper, for fear that speaking too loudly would shatter her new realization. “If sending me away is his punishment ... Does that mean he..."

  She couldn't finish. She couldn't even dare hope. But the look she gave Diane must have said it all, because she smiled and ran a finger down Claire's cheek.

  "He still won't admit it because he's just too stubborn for his own good, but I know him. And I've seen how miserable he's been since you left. He loves you."

  Claire let out a quick laugh, immediately covering her mouth when she heard herself. It was hard to believe after all that had happened, even harder because of who was saying it, but if it could only be true...

  "Why are you
doing this?” she asked, trying not to get too excited too fast. After all, it was Diane in front of her, and suddenly Claire looked at her through suspicious, almost jealous eyes. “Don't you want to have him for yourself?"

  Diane chuckled. “If I did, I wouldn't have forced his hand in turning you, would I? He's a wonderful man, and a wonderful Childe, but he's been ready to move on and be a Master himself for some time. The demon inside him is tired of listening to me. And I...” She looked away, and her voice dropped to a near whisper. “I love him, but not like you do. He'll always be my first Childe, but I can let him go if it means he'll be happier."

  She looked at Claire again, and the plain honesty on her features dissipated whatever doubts still clung to Claire's mind.

  "Thank you,” she murmured.

  "Don't thank me yet.” Taking hold of Claire's arm, she gently made her turn around until she was facing the entrance of On The Edge on the other side of the street. “You've still got to kick some sense back into him. He's looking for you in there."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  From the moment Matthew arrived at On The Edge, images of Claire assaulted him, wherever he looked. When he took a few steps toward the bar, she was sitting there, more than a little tipsy already, finishing a glass and accepting another one from a vampire who, unlike Matthew, didn't have her best intentions at heart. He advanced toward the staircase, and there she was, trading glares and polite insults with Jonas. He started down the stairwell, and his mind continued playing tricks on him. This was where he had scared her after kissing her. Here, he had first talked to her, never getting a word in reply. This bridge had been the one from which she most often observed the dancers.

  He stopped there, where he had seen her so often, and leaned against the metal banister to look down. The lights were pulsating to the rhythm of the music on the dance floor, so fast that it was hard to make out faces, but he knew Claire's so well, he was confident he would find her. If she were there, he would find her.