Adduné - the Vampire's Game (75 page)

“
Definitely true. They are a sadistic lot. Do you mind if I try it? I don’t usually look good in red, but ….”

“
Sure, chickie!” Tiffany said handing the silver tube to her. “Just make sure you give it back!”

Miranda took it with her to the ladies room. She freshened up with a quick brush through her hair. She took out the lipstick and tried it on. The color was not bad on her. It was a little startling since she was used to a more natural shade on her lips, but it did seem to heighten her coloring. She’d ask Tiffany. One thing she could rely on from Tiffany was getting an honest answer. If it looked terrible, she’d let her know.

She left the ladies room and saw the waiter standing at the table. Miranda rushed back, but Tiffany waved her off. She set money on the tray.

“
I got this one. Think my wallet can handle a couple of gelatos, and with what you went through today,” she said getting up and giving Miranda a kiss on her cheek, “you deserve a little treat.”

She gave Miranda a second look.

“
Oooh, chickie! That looks good on you! Red becomes you!”

“
Really? Then maybe I should start spicing up my life in other ways,” Miranda said as she started doing her version of an samba out to the curb. Tiffany gleefully joined in.

They stood giggling as Miranda hailed a cab. She turned to give her friend a quick hug.

“
Love you, Tiffy. Really. Thanks for the moral support.”

“
Love you more, chickie, and anytime you need some muscle,” she said showing a flexed bicep, “you call on me!”

She winked and Miranda broke into more laughter. She got into the cab and watched her friend diminish in size through the back window. When she was almost out of sight, she saw Tiff blow her a kiss.

She checked her watch and saw it was a little after 11 PM. Part of Peter’s conversation came back to her. She’d give Reginald a quick call and tell him he was wasting his time offering money. If it had been anyone else, the ploy would have worked. The problem is that money wouldn’t deter psychopaths and that was clearly what Peter was. Maybe a loaded gun to his temple, but money? No.

She heard Reggie’s cell phone ring and ring. It went into voicemail. She left a quick message and hung up. She was approaching her neighborhood when the unanswered call began gnawing at her. There were completely legitimate reasons for him to not be answering his calls, but he usually did. Unless he was in court and then he changed his message to reflect that. She hit the speed dial for his main office number.

“
Cheryl?”

“
Yes, this is Cheryl.”

“
Oh, hi, it’s Miranda. I tried calling Reginald, but I take it he’s busy?”

Cheryl sighed. There was a mournful tone to it that rattled Miranda.

“
Cheryl?”

“
I’m sorry. Mr. Charles is ill. He’s been taken to the hospital.”

The cab arrived in front of Miranda’s apartment building. She indicated for the driver to wait. The meter continued to tick off the seconds.

“
Hospital? What is it? His heart?”

“
They don’t know. His wife said something about anemia.”

Anemia. As in blood. Wasn’t that Jake’s original diagnosis? Through a fog Miranda heard herself speaking.

“
Thank you, Cheryl. I’ll call Bonnie at home,” before she hung up.

The driver looked at her in the rear view mirror. Miranda held up her forefinger – indicating to him she needed a few more minutes. She called her mother. With every ring, she saw her life pass by her.

“
Hello, Miranda,” her mother said.

“
Oh, thank God you’re alright!”

“
Why wouldn’t I be alright? Oh, are you talking about Reginald? That is a shame. I’m going over to see Bonnie right now. You know how kind she was right after your father’s accident.”

“
Yes, I do. Has his status changed? I just spoke with Cheryl.”

“
No, darling, he’s just been taken in so it’ll be awhile before they know anything.”

“
Mother, please do let me know anything. Promise?”

“
Of course. I’ll be with Bonnie all day so as soon as we find out anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“
I love you, mommy.”

“
I love you, too, Miranda.”

Miranda took a quick moment to lean against the backseat. She closed her eyes and said a prayer that her mother was okay. She closed her eyes and realized Peter had gotten to her more than she knew. Reginald was old. While he was in good health, he was far from being in excellent health. He was more than a few pounds overweight. Moreover, he didn’t watch what he ate as closely as he should. There was nothing unusual about him being taken to the hospital. Yes, it as a shock, but a shock is different than something supernatural occurring. She needed to pull it together.

She handed the driver a wad of bills. It was more than enough to cover the ride. Patrick, the night doorman opened the door for her. She ran past him and into her building throwing him a weak wave of her hand. She was tired and only wanted to get some sleep.

She changed and showered. She stood before the bathroom mirror, looking for her brush in her make-up case. She pulled out her brush and saw Tiffany’s small silver tube of lipstick. She smiled and held it up. She needed to call Tiffany and let her know that her secret klepto side had struck – successfully. She had stolen away Tiffany’s favorite shade.

She walked into the living room with the lipstick in one hand. Tiffany didn’t pick up. Miranda felt playful and decided to leave a cryptic message.

“
I believe I have something of yours. If you ever want to see it again, put $20,000 in small unmarked bills in the nearest trash can. Make sure you aren’t followed.”

Miranda giggled and hung up. She walked out onto her balcony. Her cell phone went off in her hand. It was Tiffany.

“
Tiffa ….”

Miranda was interrupted from finishing her best friend’s name by the voice of a woman. A woman with a deep throaty, polished voice speaking in guttural tones.

“
And I have something of yours, Miranda. Too bad you’ll never see her again.”

Miranda froze. A cold chill overtook the warmth of the evening sending a shiver up Miranda’s spine. The soft summer breeze rippled through her freshly washed hair. She didn’t understand. Why was someone using Tiffany’s phone? And listening to her messages? Who was she? And why was she making a threat? Was it a threat? Did she mean she was there with Tiffany? But how? Why?

The line was still open. Miranda could hear background noises. Had the phone been set down? Had it been left connected so she could hear? It made no sense.

Miranda yelled into the phone.

“
Tiffany? Tiffany is this a joke? Tiffany, answer me!”

The sound of fierce fighting broke out. Women’s raised voices going at a fever pitch drowned out the sound of a struggle. A bloodcurdling scream froze Miranda in her tracks. It was Tiffany. She was in trouble and there was nothing Miranda could do. Her heart sank as her adrenalin kicked in.

A fear surfaced in Miranda – a fear that told her she’d been wrong to dismiss things out of hand. Maybe what Reginald and Stroker had been trying to pound into her head was true. Maybe Peter was … but who was the woman that was aiding him? Stroker had warned her about Peter not acting alone. Well, she wouldn’t either.

She ran for the business card that listed the absurd occupation. She shakily dialed the number she thought she’d never call. He picked up on the first ring.

“
Mademoiselle, finally a call. Are you in danger? Or are you only starting to believe?”

“
Yes, on all counts. And it’s not me, it’s my friend Tiffany. The girl you met this morning. She’s in trouble,” Miranda blurted in a rush. Her body was shaking uncontrollably from fright and the sudden onslaught of coolness in the air. It felt like a blight – a frost that would freeze the crops and kill them where they slept was occurring. She looked out on the panorama. The tranquil picturesque view had turned into a landscape of terror. Tiffy! What would she do without Tiffany? She had to save her. There had to be time, but that scream told her it was too late.

“
Is she with you?”

“
No, she’s at her apartment,” Miranda sniffled, valiantly fighting back tears.

“
I can be there in five minutes.”

“
Should I call the police?” Miranda asked doubting her reasoning. Everything had taken on shades of a bizarre shadow world where nothing worked the way they should. Tiffany’s scream came back to her … reality was spinning out of control. She was trapped in one of her own nightmares. Her life had melted away and her bad dreams had come true.

“
No! If you call the police, I cannot do what I need to. They will attempt to take Peter alive…”

“
It’s not Peter. You were right about him having help. It’s a woman.”

“
A woman? We are wasting time.”

“
Then go! Just go! I’ll meet you there!”

She hung up and threw her phone on the couch. She ran into her bedroom finding dressing difficult because of the violent shaking of her hands. By fighting, she managed to throw on a pair of shorts and t-shirt. What difference did it make what she looked like? Her friend needed her. Miranda grabbed her purse and was at the door when she remembered her phone. She retrieved her phone and headed out the door praying that she was right in not calling the authorities.

The doorman hailed a cab. She hopped in the back giving the address to the driver. She showed the driver a hundred dollar bill and told him it was his if he ignored the stoplights. He took off in a blaze of smoke and burning rubber. Miranda prayed that Tiffany was alright. Her scream kept replaying in her head sending shivers up her spine and tears spilling down her cheeks.

Please dear God, let me get there in time.

Her heart was racing as she struggled to think things over. She had no clue who the woman was and how she’d entered her apartment, but it was good that it was a woman. Tiffany was strong, she could fight her off. That is, if she was just a woman. She choked back her fears, reassuring herself that vampires didn’t exist. But if they didn’t, why had she called Stroker? Why hadn’t she called the police?

She should have. It was ridiculous that she hadn’t. She second guessed her very poor choice. She had wasted valuable time – time that could have been spent saving her friend. She needed to remedy her faulty decision. She pulled the phone out of the purse as she was shunted back and forth in the backseat like a shuttlecock. It was fine. The driver was only following her orders. She stared at her keypad when the phone rang. This time it wasn’t Tiffany’s number; it was Chase. She debated about letting the call go through to her voicemail, but decided against it. If it was nothing important and he’d only called to razz her about that video, she’d hang up. There were more pressing matters than whether or not the world saw her nude.

“
Hello, Chase?”

“
Mir-annnda?” he spoke lazily.

The tone of his voice and his slurred speech told her one thing – Chase was drunk. She’d made another mistake in picking up the call. She couldn’t afford to make any more. Tiffany’s life may depend on her making good decisions.

“
Chase, are you drunk? Because I have no time for you getting blitzed and blithering over the phone! Tiffany’s in trouble and I need to call …”

“
Trouble? We’re all in trouble, Miranda. Father’s alive.”

She’d heard him wrong. She must have. He couldn’t have said what she thought, but if he hadn’t, why was she shivering? Why was the chill in the air increasing to a cold so brutal that it could burn? Why was she reacting in fear? She shrunk, shaking like a leaf fighting off a winter storm. He was drunk. That was all. He was blind, stinkin’ drunk.

“
Chase, I will wring your neck for calling me stinko drunk out of your mind!”

Chase began laughing. A lazy doomed laugh. The kind of laugh criminals laughed at the gallows just before they were hung.

“
Drunk? I’m not drunk Miranda. I wouldn’t dare be drunk now when I need to make the most important decision of my life.”