Chilled to the Bone (8 page)

* * * * *

Charles looked around the old church building. The place gave him the creeps. The crosses had long since been stripped from the walls, but most of the old wooden pews remained. A few missing gave the entire nave a random appearance. The stone walls were a hundred years old, with dark mold from years of neglect. It was cold and damp, and the stale unmoving air inside smelled of mildew.

“So is it true vampires have an aversion to crosses? And how about other religious symbols?”

Kent shook his head. “An aversion I don’t know about, but they don’t flee at the sight of them. I haven’t tried every symbol known to man, but crosses, well, they bat them aside if they’re in the way. I wouldn’t be surprised if a strong faith would allow one to block out their mesmerizing powers, since I can block them by focusing my
chi
. If a holy symbol was used by someone as a way of focusing their spirit…” Kent shrugged. “There might be some basis to the legend.”

Well, that wasn’t likely to help him. He didn’t have any faith in God—he’d have happily called himself an agnostic—and
chi
sounded pretty fishy to him too.
But if vampires are real, why not?
He decided to keep his mind open.

“Why are we meeting here? The whole place smells like a trap.”

“Yes,” Kent agreed. “We’re sitting ducks. They could kill us at any time.”

Charles looked quizzically over at his friend. Had Kent gone mad?

“But they won’t,” added Kent with calm assurance. “They know I’ve left information with people about them, and they’d have a hell of a time tracking it all down. I’m more dangerous to them dead than I am alive. Relax.”

As if his words were some kind of ironic cue, hooded figures appeared and took up posts between the pillars at each of the four exits from the sanctuary, two in the front and two in the back. He stood still, as did Kent, and listened. He didn’t know if he’d hear breathing, or see it, even in the stillness of the old church, but he tried. He heard nothing but his and Kent’s
.

“Why the hoods?” he asked.

“So if we see them later we won’t recognize them. They’re vampires. Normally
,
they might be less secretive about their faces, but the hoods indicate they are aware they cannot take our memories without meeting resistance. I’d worry more if they weren’t there.”

Music wafted into the room
,
the sound of a single violin, playing a rather haunting melody. But there was no sign of a violinist. He glanced over at Kent, and for the first time that evening
,
his friend looked on edge. At first
,
the music had the same effect on him, but then a strange peace came over him. The violinist was perfect. Either the vampires had hired one of the world’s best, or more likely
,
it was a recording. As he listened closer
,
he could hear the faint sound of a piano. There was no one at the piano up in front behind where the altar once was, next to the choir loft. The hoods, the church, and the music were all there to make them uneasy, and once he knew that
,
it didn’t bother him anymore. If fake menace was necessary, then real menace was probably not an option.
Or so I hope.

A tall man strode in from one of the front doors, looking at home in the church and completely out of place in this century. His long black hair was tied in a pony tail of sorts, and he was paler than Doreen had been when Charles had first seen her. The layers of velvet frock coat
,
the jacquard vest the color of red wine, and even the white overflowing silk ruffles did not completely conceal a muscular physique. He stood behind what had once been a pulpit. The outline of a cross that had once been there remained faintly visible against the maple stain on its front. “Dearly beloved,” he began, and let the phrase hang as he parted his lips to smile broadly, his fangs glinting in the dim electric lighting from the ceiling chandelier. Old fashioned he might be, but apparently not enough to prefer real candles and flame.

Charles cleared his throat. “Tartini, isn’t it? The Sonata in G Minor, better known as the Devil’s Trill?”

The vampire laughed. It wasn’t even an eerie maniacal laugh. It was just a laugh. “Very good. You must be the honorable Charles Keller. I’d come down to shake your hand, but Mr. Carlisle has a knife hidden up his pant leg, a rather wicked long blade I’m sure he carries with the intention of chopping someone’s head off. An undead someone, and I don’t want it to be me. This podium is convenient because my two friends would reach him first, and I’d have plenty of warning. Do you play violin, Mr. Keller?”

Charles shook his head. “Keyboards, occasionally. But I enjoy all sorts of music.” He wondered if Pemberton would even know what he was talking about if he talked about mixing and all the things that went into producing a good recording.

“And you’re a scholar,” stated Pemberton.

“I have a good memory.”

The vampire smiled. “A handy trait for a vampire. We live a long time, but our memories are still limited, and the past fades for us if we allow ourselves to get constantly swept up in the present. Forgive my manners. I am Aloysius Pemberton, and please do not call me Al, the way Mr. Carlisle does when he wishes to needle me. It’s a rude habit of his.”

“I don’t have any need to be on a first name basis.”

Pemberton chuckled. “Very well. My time is valuable, gentlemen, so either entertain me or get to the point.”

Charles looked at Kent. Kent, after all, had dealt with Pemberton before. But Kent nodded back to him, as if saying,
Your problem, your show
.

Get to the point, hmm?
Well, presumably Kent would intervene if he had a problem. “I’m here about a vampire named Doreen. She’s being stalked by another vampire, and she thinks you sent him.”

“Stalked? Such a dramatic word. I did indeed send him.”

“Why?”

“I have my reasons. I intended to tell you to tell Miss Hammaker to quit trying to evade him, but I don’t think you have access to her at the moment, now do you?”

Nothing for it but the truth.
“No.”

Pemberton turned his gaze to Kent. “You know, Mr. Carlisle, if you keep crudely using your essence to protect Mr. Keller from my powers I’ll start to think you have something to hide.”

“Everybody has something to hide,” said Kent.

Except for me and my monkey.
The phrase from the Beatles song ran irreverently through Charles’ head, but he suppressed his smile. He didn’t think the time was right for levity, and he doubted Pemberton would catch the reference to something a mere forty years old.

Pemberton turned back to him. “Mr. Keller. When I last saw you and Miss Hammaker together, she had tried to help her friends kill your friends. Specifically, it was her task to take you out of the fight, which I understand she performed adequately. Personally, I think it was a poor tactic to have her mesmerize you when she could have killed you and moved on to the next person
.
I say that not because I have a taste for blood but because blood was definitely on the menu that night in all senses of the word, and a thing worth doing is worth doing well. Miss Hammaker is a vampire living within my city and therefore mine to protect or render judgment on, and from the circumstances, I expect Mr. Carlisle would wish her ill. Your memory of the event was wiped from your mind, so you, perhaps, are another matter. Or perhaps not.”

“Are you saying you don’t want her harmed?” asked Charles, trying to absorb all that. Again, the question of whether to trust Kent came up, and his answer was still yes. Certainly more than a vampire who was trying to put a wedge between them.

Pemberton paused before answering. “I suppose it won’t hurt to give you that. The vampire I have following her was not doing so to harm her.”

That wasn’t precisely an answer to his question, but it was something. “I don’t wish to harm her either.”

Pemberton smiled. “An interesting protestation. But you see, we are at a standstill. I have information you want. Mr. Carlisle is being quite quiet because he’s focusing on making sure I can’t seize control of your mind. He doesn’t trust me. And I won’t be able to trust you unless Mr. Carlisle stops protecting you and lets me compel the truth. The elder undead do not trust, Mr. Keller. We verify, as one of your recent politicians said.”

Actually, it was trust, but verify too, thought Charles, but he doubted the correction would be appreciated. And as for recent, he was in grade school when Reagan was president. “Do it, Kent. Stop shielding me.”

“I don’t want to do that, Charles. Don’t ask me to.”

“And that makes me wonder even more,” murmured Pemberton. “After all, you let me sift through his mind once before and remove his memories. And yet now you can’t trust me.”

Kent’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t have a choice. You would have killed him.”

Pemberton spread his arms wide, the wide sleeves of his coat drooping dramatically. “Not true. You wound me.”

“You weren’t going to let him go with memories of seeing vampires,” Kent insisted.

“No, I wasn’t. I would have killed you, Mr. Carlisle, and then fixed the others.” Pemberton smiled.

“So it would have happened either way. Like I said, I didn’t have a choice.”

“And you think you have a choice now?”

“Yeah,” said Kent. “Yes I do.”

“Seems this is a waste of time after all,” Pemberton said. “Very well, gentleman. You may go.”

Charles watched the two. They were at a dead end. He had no idea where Doreen had gone. Or why. But he wasn’t going to abandon her. It wasn’t only because he felt responsibility for someone he’d taken on as a submissive, although that was part of it. She was a human being, even if, in some sense, she wasn’t. “Drop it. Drop the shields, or whatever they are. Let him find out what he needs to know.”

“He’ll find out a lot more than you want to tell, Charles.”

“Since I don’t know where Doreen is, or any of her weaknesses, he won’t find anything. Drop them, Kent. My mind. My decision.”

Kent paused. “I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”

Charles almost laughed.
With my memories wiped, how can I?
He didn’t say it aloud though, because it was unfair. From what Pemberton said, Kent really hadn’t had much of a choice.

He felt the weight of Pemberton’s mind on his as he locked gazes with the old vampire. There was nothing he could do to resist, or turn away. The entire universe narrowed to his eyes, gold flecked with a deep black center
,
like a well to fall into.

At last, Pemberton let him go, and he physically reeled back. “Satisfactory. Now for the exchange. I know where she is. Sadly, she is beyond my grasp. We can neither enter the building, nor can we charm our way to an invitation. In a few hours, the building will burn to the ground, with all in it. The fire will be ruled an accident, after careful investigation, despite some evidence to the contrary. We clean up our messes, we vampires. It is how we survive.”

You’ll burn her, because you can’t get to her? But why?
“Is she there against her will?” asked Charles.

“Oh, I’m sure she is. Whether her will is in control of her body is another matter, and the evidence is not conclusive.” Pemberton smiled and leaned over the pulpit with obvious interest. “Are you contemplating a rescue?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m
contemplating
a rescue.”

“Very well. Here is the address.” As if he had it ready all along, he produced a folded piece of paper and stretched it out. “No, Mr. Carlisle, you stay there. Mr. Keller can get it, if he likes, or I will have one of my guards deliver it.”

Charles walked over and grabbed it. He opened it to see a paper with nothing but an address on it. “You planned to get us to go there all along.”

“I anticipated the possibility,” admitted Pemberton.

“And we have no way to know whether she’s really there or you’re setting us up somehow.”

“None at all,” Pemberton agreed. “But if I simply wanted you dead, or captured, there are simpler ways to go about it. Three hours, gentlemen. We have to do something about this before dawn, so I can give you that long and no more. Nature has given us some limitations, and we must abide by them.”

“Why do you have to do anything about it at all? What are you afraid of, other than for her life?”

“Life, Mr. Keller? Surely this is not
life
. Existence. In any case, I decline to answer. The people in that house are dangerous. Dangerous for us, and doubly dangerous for you. Yet you can do this, and we cannot. Love conquers all, Mr. Keller, isn’t that what they say? And you are most definitely in love.”

In love? It’s too early for that. And I never fall for the subs
.
I like variety too much. Is that what it looked liked to Pemberton, when he was fishing around inside me?
He frowned. “Let’s go
,
Kent.”