Chapter 9
Jeremy was beyond distraught. Jessica wondered if Mary had ever known just what a friend she'd had.
By the time she reached the hospital, Mary's parents were long gone, her mother apparently sedated, her father taking what comfort he could from his other children.
Students hovered in the waiting room, though there was nothing to wait for. Except for Nancy and Jeremy, they began to drift away, muttering words, knowing they weren't the right ones.
Jessica sat with the Jeremy and Nancy for several minutes in near silence. She had voiced her sorrow and had nothing left to say. She felt stunned, though she knew she shouldn't have been. How could she have been so blind? But Sean had sent an officer, who had been on duty all night.
Then Jeremy started talking and told her that no one had been there but him, that he'd had horrible dreams every time he dozed, but no one else had been in the room.
He was holding something, though. Something he kept a tight grip on. She pried his fingers open, then gasped when she saw what it was.
Mary's little silver cross.
Again she damned herself.
Then, forcing herself to speak, she asked, "Do you know what the arrangements will be?"
His eyes were red, his face damp with tears. "They wanted to take her home right away, but. . . it may be several days before the hospital releases the body. "
"Oh?" Jessica murmured.
He looked at her. Numb. "There's going to be an autopsy. "
"I see. "
"She's in the hospital morgue now. "
Nancy looked at her helplessly. "She died because of Transylvania. I'm so. . . "
"Scared?" Jessica suggested softly.
"Yes. "
"Come on. Let's get out of here. Let me take you both for something to eat. "
"I couldn't. I couldn't swallow," Jeremy said.
"You need to. "
He looked at her blankly. "Why?"
"Because you're alive," she said softly. "Whether you want to be right now or not. And you have to do the things people do when they're alive. " She stood, pulling him to his feet, not giving him a chance to protest further.
Nancy, seemingly glad to have a leader, stood, as well. Jeremy rose at last. "Where are we going?"
"My office. We'll order something. "
Twenty minutes later, the two students were on her couch, waiting for pizza. Jeremy had muttered that he'd like a beer, and though Jessica was afraid the alcohol might enhance his misery, she knew he deserved a drink if that was what he wanted, so she ran down to the street and bought a six-pack.
He looked a lot like Mary had, just staring ahead, occasionally sipping his beer.
Suddenly he looked at Jessica.
"They were vampires. Not people who thought they were vampires, not nut jobs who like to drink blood. Vampires. "
Jessica exhaled softly, her expression skeptical.
"You weren't there. You didn't see," Nancy said, glaring at her. She looked at Jeremy in misery. "Nowwe're going to die. " She turned to face Jessica again. "They'll come after us, too. "
Jessica felt a chill snake along her spine, but she hesitated, knowing she needed to speak carefully. "All right," she said at last. "Say that such creatures do exist. Was either of you actually bitten?"
Jeremy and Nancy stared at each other.
"No," Nancy said.
"No," Jeremy echoed.
Another silent moment passed.
"Good God!" Jeremy said sickly.
"What?" Jessica asked.
"She'll become a vampire. "
"Oh, God!" Nancy agreed. "Mary will be. . . one of the undead. " Her words were so dramatic that they would have been funny, if the situation hadn't been so tragic.
"It's the truth," Jeremy said firmly.
"All right, listen. Often truth is simply what we believe it to be," Jessica said.
"Don't start with the psychobabble," Jeremy said angrily.
"I'm not. The point is, if you see something as true-and I'm not going to try to tell either of you that you're mistaken or it's all in your minds-then, in your life, at the very least, itis true. So let's say vampires do exist. Make a list of ways to deal with them. "
Nancy and Jeremy stared at each other in confusion.
"Like. . . garlic?" Nancy asked.
Jessica smiled. "Like garlic. Is either of you religious?"
"I was raised Catholic," Jeremy said.
"Methodist," Nancy said. "Like Mary. "
"Great big silver crosses would be good, then," Jessica said.
"What if Mary was Jewish?" Nancy asked suspiciously.
"Then I would suggest a great big Star of David," Jessica told her.
"I see. Because what's important is that I believe that would stop a Jewish vampire?" Nancy asked.
Again, Jessica answered carefully. "Here's one way to look at it. There is a supreme being, and for the sake of argument, we'll make it a 'he. ' And he's the ultimate good. But there's evil in the world, and good or evil are in a constant battle for supremacy. We'll assume that the two of you are good, and that whatever killed Mary is evil. So as representatives of good, you have to combat the evil. "
"With garlic?" Nancy asked.
"With whatever you believe will work," Jessica said.
They needed to believe they could fight. She was pretty sure she had accomplished that, at the least.
"So what should we do now?" Nancy asked.
"Go back to your dorms and get what you need, then come back here. I'll have everything set up for you. No one will know you're here. " She paused, then offered a rueful smile. "We'll go by all the old legends, so don't invite anyone in. Anyone at all. "
"Right. A vampire can't come in unless invited," Nancy said.
"That's the traditional thought," Jessica agreed.
"We need holy water and crosses," Jeremy said.
"Right. And I'll see you have everything you need for a good night's sleep," Jessica assured them.
"I don't know if I'll ever sleep again," Jeremy said.
Jessica placed a hand on his. "I wish I could make this not hurt so badly for you," she told him. "But grief. . . it's something you have to go through. All the stages, but you have to live, too. You have people who love you. Think of how badly you're hurting. You wouldn't want to make anyone else hurt like that, right?"
He sighed deeply. "Of course I want to live, of course. It's instinct, isn't it?"
Oh, yes, he was right about that.
She acknowledged his words with a slight smile and a nod. Just then the pizza arrived, and both Nancy and Jeremy found themselves able to eat.
In the middle of a bite, Jeremy started crying.
Nancy held him. Jessica sat silently.
Her heart seemed to bleed. He was truly in misery.
And he was truly afraid.
There was little he could do.
Little but be frustrated.
Bryan chafed irritably through the rest of the morning and the early hours of the afternoon. Jessica had befriended Jeremy and his fellow students, but he barely knew them. He had nothing to offer them after their loss.
Jessica, pale and shaken, had been out of the house as soon as he finished telling them what had happened. He simply bided his time, watching the sky all the while.
At last the afternoon waned. He had checked the times when the nurses' shifts changed, and, thanks to modern technology, he had found the blueprints for the hospital online, as well as the current delegation of space.
He arrived with time to spare, making his way first to the cafeteria.
It was busy, which was good. He took his time, pretending to read the newspaper, watching, ready to grab his opportunity when it came. When it did, it was easy enough to snag a key card from a young orderly who neglected to realize he had left it on his tray.
Af
ter that, a supply room afforded him a choice of lab coats complete with name tags. Again, he took his time, deciding he looked more like a MacDonald than a DeVries, Garcia or Gustafson. Hell, maybe it didn't matter. This was America.
After that, he walked down the halls with complete confidence, found the right staircase and then reached the morgue.
Cold and sad. Technology had done little to alter the character of the place.
There was a lone attendant, a young man sitting at the desk outside the door. An ID tag offered up his name: David Hayes. He was engrossed in a sci-fi novel. When Bryan entered, he glanced up looking guilty as his eyes fell back to the pages. Then he dragged them up again.
"Sorry," he murmured quickly.
"No problem. "
"Thanks. Evening, Doctor. . . MacDonald. "
"Evening. I need one of the bodies that came in today. "
"The gunshot victim?"
"No, the girl who was over in Europe. "
"Second cubicle on the left. They're all clearly tagged. "
"Thanks. "
Bryan started into the room. He had barely made it to the second doorway when the lights suddenly went out, pitching the morgue into a cold sea of blackness.
An autopsy meant Mary would be in the hospital morgue. Jessica hoped and prayed that Mary might not have become. . . what she was about to become, but the truth was, sheknew .
The very fact that Bryan MacAllistair was here was a warning.
But Mary hadn't been alone at night. That was the puzzle.
In the end, it didn't matter. Jessica was certain she needed to find the poor girl's corpse. That night.
By day, there were so many people milling around, by night, so few.
She had thought about calling Sean, but she decided she didn't want him involved. He was on his way up the cop ladder, and he didn't need any questions being asked about his integrity. Or his sanity. No, this was something she had to take care of on her own.
In a supply room, she chose a green cleaning-crew jacket. She already had a fake identification. She also took a bucket and a mop, which gave off the strong odor of antibacterial cleaning solution. She put on a head scarf and a mask against the fumes, and mumbled a few words with a French accent to the attendant on duty at the morgue.
She could hardly ask for the location of the body she was interested in; she would just have to find it.
She moved down the hall and entered the first room.
Six gurneys. Five held the earthly remains of patients who had died. She noted with a sinking heart that the sixth was draped with a sheet but otherwise empty.
Then the lights went out.
David Hayes swore softly in amazement. Was it a flipping blackout? And if so, why hadn't the emergency lights kicked on?
Was it the whole hospital? Or just the morgue?
He started to stand, then felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, handsome. "
The whisper was soft, feminine and totally sexual. He froze, even as her voice awakened his libido.
Who the hell did he know who would seduce him in the morgue during a blackout?
At last purple emergency lights flickered on to illuminate the room.
His eyes widened. His jaw dropped. Lord. . .
The most beautiful creature he'd seen in his whole life was standing in front of him.
Totally naked.
Blond and beautiful, with enormous breasts and a tiny waist. Not an ounce of cellulite on her. Her complexion was pale and perfect. Her eyes were enormous and. . . carnal.
She smiled, a finger touching his lips. "I've been waiting. We're alone, aren't we?"
They weren't alone, he thought. There was a cleaning lady somewhere. And a doctor. And the lights would come back on any minute, and. . . he didn't care.
"I've been watching you," she said softly. Her fingers trailed down his face. He needed to tell her that they weren't alone, but he couldn't.
He needed this job. It was his way of making it through school. He liked it. He sat at the desk, and he read. It was quiet, and it paid well, and it beat the hell out of sweating to death in a coffee house or a burger joint. If he got caught, he could kiss it goodbye.
He needed to tell her.
But his lips wouldn't work.
He could only stare at her.
Her hands were cold.
This was a morgue, for God's sake. The whole place was cold.
At last he managed to open his mouth, but no sound came.
She smiled deeply, watching his face. "Silly boy. . . "
It sounded as if she were hissing. Like a snake.
Her tongue teased his lips. Cold, so cold. . .
Something was wrong.
She started to kiss him. She might be cold, and this might be a morgue, but he was suddenly on fire. He reached out, acting on instinct. Lord, she was built. And her cold lips on his, then against his throat. . .
Oh, Lord. . .
Bryan stood perfectly still, listening. The door behind him had closed. For a moment, it seemed the world was totally silent in the stygian darkness.
Then. . . something. Just a rustle of movement.
And he knew, in the darkness, he was not the only stalker.
He was being stalked in turn.
He moved as silently as he could. There was a gurney before him. He touched it carefully. There was a corpse on it, cold and still. Unmoving.
He remained cautious as he felt his way around it. Things could change. Lucky for him, they didn't.
He found the next gurney. Again, he felt its occupant carefully. A woman, he thought. But she didn't move.
The next table offered a very big man.
The next. . . was empty.
The total darkness unnerved her.
Jessica's heart caught in her throat. She sensed movement, and she knew. Someone else was there, near her in the darkness.
Hospital personnel, she told herself, unconvincingly. There was the attendant on duty in the hallway. And, of course, with a blackout, someone from Maintenance would be down soon.
There were rolling blackouts from time to time, she reminded herself, but she knew-somehow-that this wasn't one of them.
This one had been planned.
She moved across the room very carefully, abandoning her mop and pail. She paused at each gurney.
She found the empty one.
She sensed movement again, felt a sense of someone near. Time stood still as she fought a rising wave of panic. As she listened, her skin began to crawl.
Where the hell were the emergency lights?
It seemed like eons since the power had gone out.
Logic prevailed. It had been seconds, maybe a minute.
She was tempted to slip onto the empty gurney, hide beneath the sheet. Pretend to be among the dead.
She refrained, afraid that in the pitch dark, she would be putting herself in even greater danger.
She sensed it again. Someone near. She reached into the pocket of her smock and her fingers felt the cold cross she'd hidden there and closed around it.
Bryan's heart sank. He had expected the worst when the darkness came so suddenly. Had known he was too late. And yet. . . he should have been in plenty of time. It didn't matter. He knew he wasn't alone in the room.
Something shifted every so slightly in the darkness just across the gurney. He reached into the lab coat and closed his fingers around the shaft of wood. He shifted his position. There was the slightest rustle in the air as he moved.
He had been heard.
The creature across from him moved.
He drew his weapon.
Purple lights suddenly came on, dim, but nearly blinding after the pitch darkness.
He barely stopped his attack in time.
She fell across the empty gurney, a cross gripped tightly in her hands.
"You!" she cried.
"You!" he returned.
Then they heard the scream from the hallway.
They both raced across the room and burst through the door that led to the desk and the attendant, Dave, who had so recently been reading his book.
Dave was still there.
Slumped down on the floor.
Bryan raced to the boy, reaching for his throat, seeking a pulse. There was one. "Hit the code button!" he cried to Jessica.
She already had. An alarm was already sounding.
What the hell was Jessica doing here?
He'd nearly killed her.
No time to think about that now. He'd would talk to her later.
There were puncture marks on Dave's neck, just as he had expected. He ripped off the lab coat and used it to put pressure against the wounds, though there was no flow of blood on his throat. Mary! She hadn't finished her task, but she hadn't let a drop go to waste, he thought. That meant she had awakened alone-if she'd had an experienced vampire to tutor her, Dave would be dead.
He damned himself a thousand times over. But something was off about this! She shouldn't have awakened so quickly. At least this kid was still alive.
But for how long?
The boy's pulse was growing stronger. He was young, and he had a good chance of survival, especially since help would arrive any minute. No better place to suffer severe blood loss than a hospital.
"He has to make it," he said aloud.
No reply. He looked up.
Jessica was no longer there.
He'd never planned on having to explain he wasn't Dr. MacDonald, and he really couldn't afford the scrutiny that would result. He sat the boy up against the desk, opening his shirt, checking his breathing. He heard the elevator clanking. Only then did he rise and hurry down the hall. There was a fire emergency door at the end of it.
Another alarm would go off, but he would be gone.
He sprinted toward the exit, certain help had come, leaving himself just time enough to disappear before all hell broke loose.
"Wow!" Nancy said when they returned to Jessica's office on Royal Street.
Silently, Jeremy repeated the same sentiment.
He had been convinced, despite what he'd said that she hadn't believed a word he and Nancy had said. Even in Transylvania, no one had taken them seriously. Detective Florenscu had all but waved a hand dismissively every time they had spoken.
Had he really known the truth? Maybe he had just thought he was safe, that the terror in his own country had ended, that he just needed to get them out and finish up the paperwork. Or maybe he had believed there was nothing he could do. He might even believe that Mary was going to survive, that evil couldn't track her down across an ocean.
"Wow," Nancy repeated.
Jessica had adorned the windows and both the inner and outer doors with garlic. The window sills were lined with vases filled with water. Holy water, he was certain. There were cuttings in the water. More garlic, he presumed.
There were crosses everywhere. For good measure, she'd added a handsome Star of David in a frame, a small statue of Buddha and a picture of Confucius.
Everything had been arranged to look like decorations, homage to different religious teachings around the world.
He even found a voodoo doll in a chair, and there were other artifacts about the room that seemed to be religious symbols he just didn't recognize.
She wasn't there when they arrived; no problem, since she'd given him a key. A note on her desk was weighted down with two silver chains bearing large silver crosses. They were to wear the crosses and remember not to open the doors or the windows, no matter who tried to gain entry.
They gravely put on the crosses. As they did so, Jeremy noted one last provision she had made for them.
Stakes.
"Do you feel safe?" Nancy asked.
"I feel better," he said, managing a smile.
They found a deck of cards and played war for a while, but neither one of them could manage to pay attention.
At last they figured they could at least rest. She'd provided the couch and recliner with pillows and blankets, so they drifted off as afternoon became evening and evening segued into night.
That was when Mary came.
At first Jessica didn't leave the hospital.
She shed her disguise and circled around to the emergency room, then the main entrance, and made a meticulous search of the place, floor by floor. She was seized with a greater and greater sense of desperation as she searched; somehow, Mary had made her escape.
As she conducted her search, trying to appear as if she were looking for a friend's room, her mind seethed.
Bryan MacAllistair had been there, wielding a stake.
Who the hell was he?What the hell was he?
And he had seen her, too. What was going through his mind? The same questions she was asking? She felt a deep chill run through her, something far more disturbing than anything she had known in years.
At last she gave up searching. Wherever Mary was, it wasn't the hospital.
Outside, she dialed Sean's number. When he answered, she gave him the news tersely. "Mary is up-and gone. "
"What?" Sean said sharply.
She inhaled. "You heard me. Don't ask questions, just believe what I'm saying and get me some help. "
"Lord God," he muttered. "All right. "
She winced slightly. Sunday. She could imagine the man home with his wife and children. But this was far more important than anyone's leisure time and Maggie, through experience and more than any other woman, would understand completely.
"Jeremy and Nancy are in my office," she said. "I think she'll sense Jeremy and go after him. "
"Most likely. I'll head there right-"
"No, Sean. You've got the credentials to find out what's going on at the hospital. I'll go to my office. "
"Makes sense. "
"Sean, it's all my fault. "
"Jessica, none of us could have foreseen this. "
"I think-" She broke off and winced. "I think she might have been targeted specifically to. . . taunt me. "
Bryan seethed with anger, but this was no time to forget everything and lose sight of the business at hand. He roamed the streets, searching for Mary. Alone, it was an almost impossible task, no matter how good his senses were.
Mary knew the area.
Where would a quite possibly naked woman head?
A strip club on Bourbon Street.
"Jeremy. "
He heard her voice. She was there in his dream. Her smile sweet, a little lost.
"Jeremy. . . "
He opened his eyes. The sound was coming from the window.
Don't go, an inner voice warned him, but he couldn't help himself. And anyway, this was just a dream, right? Not really happening. All he had left of her was a dream.
He glanced over at Nancy. She was sound asleep. He was sure he was asleep, as imagining that he was only hearing the girl who had meant so much to him in life.
He rose and headed for the window. It was framed in garlic, guarded by holy water. But there were no bars, and when he opened the drapes, he could see her.
They were on the second floor of a nineteenth-century building, but Mary appeared to be standing, floating in the air, just beyond the pane.
"Mary!" His heart caught in his throat. She looked so pure and perfect, naked as the day she was born, but somehow innocent, nonetheless.
"Jeremy, I need you. I always need you, don't I? Help me, Jeremy. I'm so cold, so desperate. So hungry. "
"Oh, Mary. . . "
"You have to let me in. You have to get rid of all that stuff blocking me, and you have to let me in. "
"Mary, I can't let you in. Don't you know? You're a vampire now. "
"I'm cold, Jeremy. I'm hungry. I'm so hungry that it's agony. Please, Jeremy. "<
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The sound of her voice tore at his heart. He couldn't bear to see her in pain.
And it was only a dream.
In a dream it wouldn't matter if he opened the window. Removed all that stuff Jessica had put there to humor him, to ease his fear.
In a dream, he could let her in. Hold her as he had always longed to do. . .
"Jeremy. . . "
Her voice seemed to reach inside him. Wrap around his very soul. How could he bear to witness such agony?
He reached for the window. . . .