Adduné - the Vampire's Game (60 page)

“
I take that to mean you’re not sharing your secrets. It’s fine. Is there anything else that separates them from us?”

“
Many things. For instance, they can change appearance. There is the perpetually young appearance that you think you see and what they really are – decaying, decomposing corpses. They are fully capable of causing visions … dreams … it’s what I believe happened to you on the plane. To have a dream like that with no knowledge of what it meant … there is no doubt that you had come into contact with a vampire, Mademoiselle … or were in close proximity at the very least.”

The thoughts of what happened on the flight came flooding back to Miranda. She remembered it and all the other dreams she’d had since. She wondered if what Stroker said could be true. No, it was ridiculous! Ludicrous! For it to be true would be to give credence to the notion that vampires existed and they didn’t. There was a far simpler, more logical explanation. The stories Reggie had planted plus reading those notes had taken hold and a nightmare had blossomed. She must have run across the old legend about a horse not jumping a grave in a story – or perhaps a movie. It had lodged in the recesses of her mind. No wizardry or supernatural need apply for that to have occurred.

“
Do you really believe that’s what happened?”

“
Yes,” Stroker said placing his glass between his two hands and rubbing the stem in between his finger and spinning it in either direction.

Miranda picked at her meal. She took a sip of wine.

“
Then it is quite lucky you came along. What are the chances of you sitting next to me in that plane?”

Stroker sprang forward onto the table. He challenged Miranda with his piercing eyes.

“
Chance? I never leave anything to chance, Mademoiselle. I apologize for being so deceptive and using a secretive, underhanded methodology always employed by my sworn enemy, but I confess that I arranged to sit next to you on that flight.”

The admission startled Miranda. She did her best not to react. She calmly cut a another piece of the lemony-soaked filet and brought it to her mouth.

“
I see. Well, that does change things dramatically, doesn’t it? Now I have to ask you how you knew that …”

“
You would be flying to Fairfield Museum? You only need to keep current, Mademoiselle. The pieces of your exhibit were long since mentioned in the press release. I couldn’t believe when I saw mention of the treasure. And I knew that you were not in on your father’s scheme at that point. You would never send something that valuable to be displayed in such a crass and vulgar way. No offense, you understand.”

“
I quite understand. Did you know I’d be coming back to New York? I mean, before I told you. Is that why you stayed?”

“
Did I know you’d end up in New York? Well, it was a calculated risk. That is different than mere chance. I knew you were in Fairfield and could always have resorted to tracking you down there, but I knew you lived here – part of the time. And I know of your close attachment to this girl … Tiffany Rodriguez. She is rumored to be your closest friend and runs in charmed circles. I banked on this attachment and the fact that most flights from a place such Fairfield, need a connecting flight to get you back to London. Couple that with the tragedy of your father’s death and the need to enjoy yourself. What better place for you to do that than New York? Especially when you could be with your friend.”

“
But I could have gone to Chicago ...”

“
Yes, to see your brother, but you didn’t. Besides if you did, I could easily have found you. I only needed the one cover story I used on the plane. From there the move was mine to make since I just needed to speak to you one more time – alone as we are now – to tell you the truth.”

“
Truth is one of those issues that is not debatable and what you’re saying … well … I’m not sure I would file it under the category of truth.”

“
Really? Then where would you put it,” Stroker said placing his forearms on the table and leaning towards her.

“
I would put it under the category of rank speculation and cross-file it under active imagination. But that’s only half right. I did hear what you said about my father. I hate to admit it, but I believe it to be true. I believe he did take those items, but why is a question that is still open in my mind. You’ve given me no compelling argument as to that. In fact, you’ve hinted that the place seemed deserted. Therefore, you implied yourself that the Adduné house …”

“…
castle,” Stroker gently corrected.

“…
very well, the Adduné
castle
was abandoned.”

“
You listen well, Miranda. ”

“
Now, if only I could do as well in the thinking department we’d have something.”

“
You’re much too hard on yourself.”

“
I doubt I could come down as hard on myself as I need to at this moment. I feel horrid about this entire matter. It explains so much about why …”

The face of Peter filled her mind. Peter! He had said they were his possessions. Was Peter part of this family? Was he hired by them the way her father had hired Reginald Charles? Or the Sokolov brothers?

Another thought occurred to her. Perhaps Peter was a con man. Perhaps he had found out about the theft and wanted to claim the items for himself. No, she didn’t think so. He had acted like the righteous, wrongfully injured party. And then there were his words at the club. Everything fit in with Peter merely telling the truth. If he were an Adduné, it proved Stroker wrong about his vampire theory. Peter was all too human.

Miranda didn’t know why she was so happy about her assessment, but she was. She took a few sips of wine feeling a smile written on her features, unwilling to be eradicated by decorum. Miranda closed her eyes and luxuriated in the pleasure taken in Peter being blameless. Yes, he had been cruel, but look at what had been done to his family. She now excused his shabby behavior. He hadn’t known her so why shouldn’t he try to get her back? Her father was no longer here to attack and there was his priceless treasure on display in that museum. He most likely was furious.

Now she could admit to herself that she was attracted to him. It’s why she’d given so much weight to his dismissal of her. She felt entirely comfortable about being sexually interested in him. Why shouldn’t she be? She felt herself flush at the thought of seeing him again. She’d apologize and beg for forgiveness and ... Thoughts of Peter stopped as her mind filled with unanswered questions.

“
But is the entire lineage one of vampires? Is everyone who is an Adduné a vampire?”

“
Yes, anyone who is an Adduné is a vampire. It is a lineage of blood and not biological birth.”

“
And they were not in the castle? They were elsewhere … hiding as you say?”

“
I am sorry and very remiss in not finishing my little story. Yes, the Addunés were not in the castle and it was empty. It had been for years. Most likely, rumors spread of it being abandoned and those rumors must have spread to your father’s ready ears. When he came, he must have seen with his own eyes that no one was apparently around. You see, the villagers knew better than to trespass. Their grandparents carried stories in their collective memories. They knew the family came and went as it pleased and that when they did return, they would not take kindly to their possessions being disturbed. Your father did not have the benefit of being raised and schooled with these folk tales. He saw what he wanted to see, and never opened himself up to the possibility of conditions being anything other than could be seen with his own two eyes.

While he was pillaging and pilfering their belongings, they were elsewhere practicing what is known as a dormant state. You have to understand that a vampire does not die – ever. They are eternal creatures and live for centuries. That is a very long time to remain awake. So if and when they tire of mores and certain attitudes, or if they are found out and in danger, they can choose to go into a dormant state where they sleep for months … or years. It’s entirely up to them. A person chasing them will give up – or die themselves. It’s another reason for their success.

Their dormant sleep is different than ours as they are still somewhat aware of what is happening around them. Have you ever been very tired? So tired that you drift in and out of sleep – in and out of your surroundings and environment? It is almost like this, but more subliminal. Consequently, if they are being hunted or threatened, they will feel someone coming near, but no more. They then choose whether to awaken and leave, or remain quiet. Staying quiet is best. No one knows their secret place. It is a closely guarded secret that they would never disclose. It would be too dangerous for them to do so. My father searched, but was never successful in finding out. I have my guesses, but have yet to be proven correct.”

Miranda was barely listening to Stroker and his fanciful explanations. She was fixated on his initial assertion.

“
So if someone were to state that the stolen items belonged to him, he would be a vampire?”

Miranda’s question interrupted Stroker’s leisurely sip of wine. His body jolted as he slammed the glass down against the white tablecloth. He lurched his upper body towards her in a manic way, stretching his arm across the table. Miranda wanted to recoil from his touch, but didn’t. It would be rude and she was anything but ill-mannered. The enormous palm of his hand now rested upon hers. His skin was cool and rough. The familiarity was not what she would normally have welcomed, but contact gave her an unusual sense of relief.

“
Have you met someone who said this?”

Miranda considered leaving sleeping dogs alone. All she had to do was tell a lie.

“
Yes,” she found herself admitting.

“
Who?”

“
A man calling himself Peter.”

“
Peter? Tall, blonde, very handsome?”

“
Yes.”

“
And he was in Fairfield?”

Miranda wondered how he knew.

“
Yes.”

Stroker snapped back into his chair as if attached to elastic. His expression turned grim as he finally took his eyes off of Miranda and stared off into space at an imaginary ghost.

“
It is Peter Adduné. It’s he I am after. He is a murderer several times over. Blood is always let where he goes,” Stroker leaned on the elbows he placed on the table. His face softened, but only slightly. The hardened part of Stroker remained as a tenderness was offered to Miranda.

“
I knew he would find you. If I figured out the scheme, so would this creature. I am so sorry to say this, but you are my bait. Where you are, he will be. I need to make it so that this predator is no more.”

Peter? A vampire? While there was an air about Peter that set him apart from the crowd, the suggestion was ridiculous. It was more an imperious mannerism that bespoke royalty. He wasn’t common and would never blend into a crowd. She appraised the man sitting across from her. He had been so lucid about the theft. It was hard to imagine that there were two such radically different sides contained within one body, but that was the case. On one hand, Stroker was exceedingly intelligent and rational. On the other, he was a peasant whose mind was filled with lurid half-tales of a forgotten superstition. She didn’t understand. She ran her hand through her loosely, curled hair. It fell becomingly around her face in a torrent of ringlets. She offered him an out.

“
But couldn’t there be another explanation?”

“
Well,” Stroker started. It was good to see him thinking. Maybe by asking him for other possibilities, it was forcing his intellectual side to kick in. “… I did not see what you did, Mademoiselle. I can’t say for sure it is he. These creatures use living human accomplices. There is someone else that matches the description you gave. A man that Peter uses. He is also blonde and offers a vague resemblance. I have seen neither personally. It is why I struggle as I rely on other’s descriptions. The last I heard this other man was in Europe.”

“
What is his name?”

“
He often calls himself Peter, and that is the problem. He poses as his master and his name is whatever suits him. You see, he is human and wants to become a vampire. Vampires sometimes use humans in this way. If they meet someone that is willing to give up their soul for a miserable waking eternity, they offer this person the recourse to prove their worthiness. They have them run errands and perform tasks too dangerous or inconvenient for them to accomplish – like being out in the daytime.”

“
But I thought you said .. “