In My Reflection (In Between 14 and 15, PG13)
Posted: Sat May 21, 2011 10:29 am
Disclaimer: Moonlight is not mine and no copyright infringement is intended.
This story is posted in two parts. The second part is in the same thread.
IN BETWEEN
fourteen and fifteen
In My Reflection
It was all so extraordinary, so new, so real: sitting at a table in a restaurant like any other couple, light glinting off their wine glasses, Beth’s eyes on Mick as she lifted her glass in a toast. Both of them dressed to the nines, a fine suit, a blue silk dress . . . both of them as nervous as if they’d never been on a date before in their lives.
“To vampires,” Beth said, and it touched Mick’s heart to hear this open acceptance of what he was, but he had a better idea.
“To us,” he said, tapping his glass against hers and taking a long drink of the wine. Beth looked radiant; she couldn’t take her eyes off him, and Mick’s dreams were coming true. He should have been happier than he had ever been before.
But something was wrong with Beth, something deep inside, and he didn’t have any idea what it was.
Mick opened the front door of the Arbor Bistro and followed Beth out into the night, into a chill wind that smelled of rain and far-off lightning. Beth pulled her coat tight over her dress, shivering, and Mick put his arm around her. She leaned into his embrace, her body relaxing against his, and he wondered, for a moment, if he’d been imagining things. No. Something’s wrong. “Beth, is everything okay?” he asked softly.
“Sure,” she said, sounding surprised. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. I just thought maybe something was bothering you.”
She glanced up at him, then walked on silently for a time. Finally she said, “I am nervous about quitting Buzzwire. It’s the right thing to do – I know I’d just go crazy, working there without Maureen. But it’s scary. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Mick knew how much Beth had loved working as a reporter. She was good at it; both at investigating stories and at presenting them. Would she be able to find another such job? She wasn’t likely to get a good reference from Buzzwire now. She had a lot of resume material on tape, of course, but would that be enough in this town? It was no wonder she was nervous. And maybe that was all that was wrong with her. The timing was right – Beth had been fine the last time he’d seen her, the night he’d asked her on this date, and at that time, she’d still been employed.
But Mick didn’t think she was really all that concerned about being jobless.
Maybe it’s all this death. Beth had lost both Josh and Maureen, in quick succession, and both of them had died violently, their lives cut far too short. And Beth had experienced Tierney’s death as well. Beth hadn’t known Tierney, but she’d been there when Mick had carried the girl’s body out of the dark cold harbor water, and she couldn’t have avoided feeling his pain. I know what it’s like to lose people you love, Beth had said, but she hadn’t known for long. Maybe the losses she had suffered were only just starting to sink in.
Or maybe it’s me. The newest thing in Beth’s life was her relationship with Mick. Now that he’d finally told her how he felt about her, was she having second thoughts? Was she realizing what it really meant to be this close to a vampire?
Troubled, Mick guided Beth to the Mercedes and opened the passenger door for her. Thunder rumbled in the distance, lightning flashed over the northern mountains, and the wind shifted. It was blowing hard now, gusting from the direction of the restaurant, and it carried a very faint scent of human blood. And of vampires. Mick stiffened, turning to look, and Beth caught his arm.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing.” If he’d been alone he would have gone to investigate, but there was no way he was going to let Beth get involved. He hurried to the driver’s side, got in, and quickly drove away.
They were both quiet on the drive to Beth’s place, both lost in their own thoughts. After Mick had walked her to her door, Beth stood staring at him for a moment, looking him up and down. She put a hand to his face, very gently stroking his hair back from his brow, never taking her eyes from him. Then she leaned against him and held him close, her face pressed to his shoulder. He could feel her love, her deep care for him, her commitment . . . but there was nothing flirtatious about her now, no teasing, no smiles. It almost felt as if she was saying goodbye. How could it be so frightening to feel how much she loved him?
“Was tonight . . . okay?” he asked uncertainly.
Against his shoulder, he felt her nod.
“Are we on for another date?”
Beth pushed back from him, and now she finally smiled. “Of course we are. Just not for a couple of days, okay? I think maybe I’m coming down with something.”
She wasn’t feeling sick, of course. She just wanted some time alone. But he played along, and said, “At least you won’t have to worry about missing work.”
“No, I won’t. I guess there are perks to being unemployed.”
He said good night to her, and she disappeared into her apartment. Mick thoughtfully went down the stairs and out the front door. He didn’t understand what was going on. He’d never felt so much love from Beth before, so much joy that he was there with her, but something was troubling her enough to make her want to withdraw. She really did want to see him again; he could feel that . . . just not right away. I told her I needed time, and she’s giving it to me. Maybe she needs time too, time to come to terms with all these changes in her life. It had been a huge step for her, to commit to a relationship with him so shortly after Josh’s death. She had been the one to instigate it, but that didn’t mean she’d actually been ready.
As long as she’ll see me again. And she will. I’m certain of it.
Reassured, Mick took his phone out of his pocket and turned it on. He’d kept it off for his date with Beth, but he didn’t want to be out of touch for too long. He was expecting a call from Logan at any time now, about Elaine’s laptop, and he had to be there for Elaine when Logan gave it to her. Quickly he checked his messages. He had one, but it wasn’t from Logan. It was from Josef.
Mick, I have some information about Coraline. Come by the house tonight if you want to take a look at it.
Damn Josef, he hadn’t even said in the message whether or not Coraline was alive. Mick shoved his phone back in his pocket and got into his car. He’d planned to return to the Arbor Bistro, to check out that ever-so-faint scent of vampire and blood, but it suddenly didn’t seem important any more. He put the car in gear and headed for Josef’s house.
“I just printed these out,” Josef said, putting a group of glossy photographs on the table in front of Mick. The shots were blurry, and had obviously been taken from a great distance, but he could easily recognize Coraline. She was walking toward a black car, her body half hidden by the man at her side. Lance. He hovered over her, as if guarding her. Or protecting her. Coraline’s head was bowed, and he couldn’t make out her expression, but her whole stance seemed resigned, accepting. Submissive. Mick had never seen her look that way before.
But she was alive, and she seemed to be well. Whatever punishment or confinement her family had meted out to her, it appeared that she was going to weather it. If anyone can land on her feet, it’s Coraline. But this time, Mick hadn’t been so sure about her chances for survival.
“When were these taken?” he asked.
“Earlier today.”
“Where?”
Josef just looked at him, and Mick sighed. “What else have you found out?”
“She doesn’t go out much, and when she does, she has an escort, almost always Lance. Whether she’s still there by choice or not, I couldn’t tell you.”
“I don’t think it’s by choice,” Mick said, gazing at each photograph in turn. None of them showed Coraline any more clearly than the first one did.
“You don’t know that. With her, everything’s a plot or a plan. This could be one too. She could be using her family right now, just the way she’s used everyone else in her life.”
Including me. And Beth. But Coraline had seemed so different the last time Mick had seen her, when she’d given herself up to save him. The look in her eyes, as Lance had taken her away . . . how could that not have been real?
“Talk to me, Mick,” Josef said. “What are you thinking? Please tell me it’s not about going off to rescue this woman.”
Mick hesitated. “No,” he said at last. Coraline seemed to be all right, and if she’d survived this far, she’d probably find a way to leave if she wanted to. And in the meantime, she was far, far away from Beth. Mick didn’t want them near each other, not ever again.
He picked up one of the photos, this time studying Lance. He was Coraline’s escort, but in what capacity? In this picture, it almost looked as if he was being protective of her. Did he actually care about her, on some level? His first loyalty was obviously to his sire, but Mick had the feeling that there was some sort of bond between Lance and Coraline. I think she’s safe with him, as long as her sire doesn’t want her harmed.
“What do you know about Lance?” he asked Josef.
“I’ve told you. He’s part of an old, powerful family, and you don’t cross him.”
“What about that eye? How does a vamp end up with something like that?”
“No idea. Turning isn’t an exact science, you know. Strange things happen. Maybe something that happened to him as a human just . . . didn’t heal, when he got turned. Like tattoos stay, because they aren’t really injuries or scars.” Josef looked uncomfortable – had he been thinking of Sarah, when he’d said strange things happen? – but then he shook it off, and shrugged. “Or maybe it has healed, and he just likes to freak people out with a wacko contact lens.”
Mick smiled at that. Still . . . Coraline had apparently done something similar. One night, after a great many drinks, she’d told him that she’d gotten the tattoo on her shoulder after she’d been turned. I was branded with that mark, as a human, she’d said darkly, staring into her glass. It was done to shame me. But I defied them, and took pride in it. When I was turned, and the brand disappeared, I had the fleur de lis put back on my shoulder, in ink.
“And there’s one other thing,” Josef muttered, sounding reluctant.
“Which is?”
“It’s not certain. But there are some rumors about the fire thing. That members of this family have been known to survive it.”
Mick frowned. “But why would the same family come up with the cure? Coraline said it was meant to disguise the characteristics of vampirism. Especially the effects of fire.”
“Healing instantly from fire would be just as suspicious as turning to ash, for that test,” Josef said. “They’d need a disguise just as much as any other vamp.” He was staring at the floor, not paying attention to what he was saying, his mind obviously on something else. “Mick. About that explosion.”
Mick looked up warily. “Yeah?”
“I really don’t know how I survived it. Maybe I did just move fast enough. But ever since you told me about Lance healing from that burn, instantly . . . I’ve wondered.”
“What do you mean? Josef, did you get caught in that fire and – and then heal?”
Josef shrugged helplessly. “I lost some time somewhere. The first thing I knew, I was out in the street. I guess it could have happened.”
“You mean you might be related to -- ”
“Don’t even say it. But I don’t know. My sire . . .she died before she ever told me anything about herself. I have no idea where she came from, who her blood family is.”
Mick looked at him in astonishment - Josef had never so much as mentioned his sire before. But Josef said nothing more about his past. He turned away, shaking his head, and said, “Hell, don’t pay any attention to me tonight, Mick. It’s all just crazy thoughts. You know what? I think getting caught in an explosion is something I’d remember. It would hurt like hell, and believe me, I remember pain. No. I’ve always moved fast, and I’ve always been lucky, and that’s all that happened. End of story.”
Mick went home that night mulling over Josef’s words, and wondering about Josef’s sire. A woman . . . a woman who had died before telling Josef anything about her own history. Well, he might have guessed that Josef’s sire would be a woman. But Mick wondered who she’d been, where she’d come from. Surely Josef had at least known her name. Where had it happened, and why? Josef had once used the name Konstantine, which made Mick think he might have originally come from Russia or Eastern Europe. But Josef’s accent had been utterly American ever since Mick had known him, leaving no trace of his past life. Had Josef chosen his vampire life, or had it been forced on him? The man certainly acted as if he’d chosen it, but it was hard to know for sure. And these days Mick found himself wondering about the origins of every vampire he met.
Were there others out there like Tyler, vampires who had never killed? Was there a way to turn someone without letting loose all that rage and blood and fear?
What would Mick have done if Beth had been shot that fateful day, if she had been the one dying in front of him, instead of Josh?
He still didn’t know. And the other night . . . Mick was certain that Abbott had been targeting Beth. How could Abbott have known that Mick would come down to the street to meet her? Abbott had followed Beth, he’d waited for her to get out of the car and step into the road. For him, Mick’s presence had only been an added bonus.
Mick opened the door of his apartment and went straight to the fireplace to turn it on. He was feeling a mental chill, imagining what would have happened if he hadn’t gone down to meet Beth, if he hadn’t been there to push her out of the way. I guess I have the paparazzi to thank for that. Though I don’t really feel like giving thanks to the likes of Dean Foster. If Mick hadn’t been worried about Beth encountering the paparazzi, he wouldn’t have gone down to her car. He would have waited for her here, in the apartment, and she never would have come. Would he have heard the car strike her, would he have heard her scream? Could he have possibly gotten to her in time to save her?
And if he had, what would he have done?
Mick stood by the fire for a long time, watching the bright flames leap through the crystals. He'd always found fire compelling; even now, in spite of the danger, it seemed to call to him, to draw him in. Coraline had feared fire, yet she’d kept it around her as if to prove her courage: a roaring fireplace in her home, the sparkler she’d carried on the night he’d met her. In the end, fire hadn’t killed her, and he wondered if she’d known that it wouldn’t. If she had known, she’d certainly never told him about it.
Was there any chance that she’d passed the ability to survive fire on to him?
He put his hand close to the fire, then slowly drew it away. There was no sense in testing it; if he didn’t have the ability, he would die. And he had so much – so very much – to live for.
Beth. Mick pushed aside melancholy thoughts, made his way to the couch, and settled down on it, pulling one of the throw pillows into his lap. This was the one that Beth had slept on. It still smelled like her . . . he lay down, putting the pillow under his own head, drinking in her scent. He missed her already, and he was worried about what was bothering her. How long did she want him to stay away? A couple of days, she’d said, but how long did that mean exactly? He sighed, letting his thoughts drift to the night she’d stayed over - and to the exquisitely awkward way that night had begun.
“I mean, if you need anything, I’m just right upstairs,” he’d said, pausing halfway up the steps.
“In your freezer?” Beth asked wryly.
“Yeah,” he said. In his freezer - which would, of course, make it rather difficult for her to ask for anything she needed. What was she supposed to do, come and knock on the freezer lid? God, why didn’t he think?
But she only smiled at him, and said, “Sweet dreams.”
“You too,” Mick said, and he hurried up the rest of the stairs, very conscious of Beth’s eyes on him. He reached the freezer room, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it. What was the matter with him? He hadn’t been this nervous since Beth had come into his apartment high on Black Crystal. He’d been fine tonight until Beth had started to flirt with him, and then he’d panicked. What in the world did he think he was doing? It wasn’t even midnight yet; there was no way he could sleep. He’d left Beth downstairs with nothing to help her sleep, not even a blanket. And he was almost dizzy with hunger. He didn’t want to drink blood in front of Beth, but it was completely insane to let himself starve while she was in the apartment. Put her in danger deliberately, why don’t you? Mick took a deep breath and went back out into the hall. He’d given Elaine the bed, but he’d kept back a couple of thick, soft blankets, and they were stored in his closet. He collected the blankets, hesitated for a moment, and then sorted through his shirts until he found the one that still had Beth’s scent on it. He slipped it off its hanger, piled it on top of the blankets, and headed back downstairs.
Beth was in the kitchen, peering into the nearly-empty refrigerator. She turned and looked at him in surprise, raising her eyebrows.
“I forgot a few things,” he said, putting the blankets on the couch. “Sorry about the fridge. I don’t keep much food here any more. I’m not even sure if the apples are any good.”
“Maybe I ought to keep a few things here, just in case,” she said lightly, closing the refrigerator door. “I don’t suppose you have an extra toothbrush?”
“No, sorry. But there’s this.” He held up the shirt to show it to her, and she smiled.
“Is that the same one you gave me before?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“I’ve never seen you wear it.”
“Well, no.” He’d never washed it, either, after that night. But he wasn’t going to tell her that he sometimes pulled it out just to smell it, to drink in the scent of her that clung to the cloth.
“Oh, blankets. Nice.” She poured herself a glass of water, drank it, and then went to the couch and sat down, pulling one of the blankets into her lap. “I thought you were just going to leave me with a bare couch.”
“I . . . got nervous. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Nervous? Why?” She looked concerned. “Really, I do understand that you need to take things slow. I was only teasing you.”
“I know. It’s just that there’s something I need to do, and I -- ” He thought of Tierney’s question, Can you be yourself with her? “I was afraid to do it in front of you.”
“Mick, what are you talking about?”
“Getting hit by the car.” He’d never been hit like that before, hadn’t imagined how much it would hurt, how much work his body would have to do to heal. For long seconds he hadn’t even been able to move. Broken ribs, internal injuries . . . he’d flashed back to the time he’d crashed the Mercedes, when his blood had been full of silver and he hadn’t been healing at all. “I was hurt. It’s all healed, completely, but -- "
“Oh, my God. Of course. You need blood.” Beth suddenly looked worried. “Do you even have any? There’s nothing in your fridge.” Without waiting for his answer, she unbuttoned her cuff and began to roll up her sleeve.
“No, Beth! No. You don’t need to do that. I have plenty; it’s just hidden.”
She followed him back into the kitchen, and watched as he moved the glassware aside and opened the hidden fridge. He took out one of the bottles. Maybe that wouldn’t look quite as awful as a bag of blood, and he really didn’t want to inject himself right now, even though that would be the best thing for him. Mainlining always, always brought out the vampire. He took a glass from the cabinet instead, and hesitated. Beth was watching him closely. She’ll accept your secrets, if only you’ll share them. But he was so ashamed of this one.
He picked up the bottle and started to unscrew the cap, his hands shaking. Was it because the craving had grown so strong, or simply because Beth was watching? “Here, I’ll get it,” Beth said, reaching out to take the bottle from him. “You don’t look so good.” She opened the bottle, poured half its contents into his glass, and pushed the glass toward his hand. “I’ve seen you drink blood before, you know,” she went on, her voice gentle. “And it was my own. I don’t think this is going to bother me.”
He managed to smile at her. “I know. It’s just hard for me to -- to not hide this.” He picked up the glass and stood frozen for a moment longer, then put it to his mouth, closed his eyes, and started to drink. When he tasted the blood his thirst took over, stronger even than his fear, and he gulped it all down quickly. When the glass was empty, he set it back on the counter, steadied himself, and slowly opened his eyes.
Beth was still there.
She didn’t look shocked, or disgusted, or even unsettled. She looked relieved.
“You look better now,” she said, pouring the rest of the bottle into his glass. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Good.” She pushed the glass toward him again and went back to the couch, busying herself with blankets and pillows. Mick slowly drank the rest of the blood, then rinsed out the glass, feeling stunned. Even he was disturbed by the fact that he drank blood; how was it that Beth was not?
He stepped around the counter and went to join her on the couch. She looked up at him thoughtfully and said, “Is that why you were so nervous? Because you needed blood?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
She shook her head. “I know you’re a vampire, Mick. It’s not like I don’t expect these things. You don’t have to hide what you are from me.”
“I’ve been hiding for so long, I don’t really know how to be open about it.”
“It must be a hard habit to break, when your life depends on secrecy.” She sighed. “But I’d like it if you could be yourself with me.”
Mick thought of Tierney’s question, of the disbelieving look on her face when he’d told her his relationship with Beth was complicated. He felt a sharp pang of regret, thinking of Tierney’s bright smile and her firm advice. If only he’d seen the danger. . . .
“Mick? What is it?”
“What you said just reminded me of Tierney. I don’t think she got a chance to be herself very often. Maybe it only ever happened when she was with Scott. I think it’s the way she would have defined love. Being able to truly be yourself with someone.”
“That’s not a bad definition,” Beth said. “Mick . . . you aren’t still blaming yourself, are you? I mean, even now we don’t know who did it. And you were looking for someone leaking information to the paparazzi, not for someone who was trying to kill her.”
“I know. I don’t really blame myself, but . . . I just wish I’d been able to help her.” He glanced up at Beth. “She asked about us, that last night on the boat.”
“She knew about us?”
“Well, not much. I told her it was complicated.”
“You would describe our relationship that way.” Beth smiled, rolling her eyes. “What did she say to that?”
“She told me to un-complicate it.”
“Good advice,” Beth said with satisfaction.
“Yeah, but she didn’t exactly know what was involved.” Beth took a breath, as if to argue, and Mick said quickly, “I mean, here we are. You actually like Dashboard Confessional. Is there really any hope?”
Beth grabbed one of the couch pillows and threw it at him; he ducked, and it flew past him to land on the floor. “I like a lot of different kinds of music,” she said, attempting to sound dignified. “Does anything current meet with your approval?”
“Sure it does. There’s all kinds of good music out there these days.”
“I’ll bet you still like oldies the best, though,” she said, teasing.
“Well, yeah. What can I say? They are the best.”
He got up to retrieve the pillow from the floor, and when he returned to the couch, Beth said hesitantly, “I was wondering if you’d play me something. Something you like.”
“Sure. I’ll put on a CD.”
“No, I mean play it. On your guitar.” She looked at him steadily. “I mean, only if you want to. But you did bring the guitar home with you.”
Mick sat down slowly, putting the pillow beside him. He’d gotten new strings, he’d restrung and tuned the instrument . . . why shouldn’t he do as she asked? But he felt frozen. I’ll never play again, he’d sworn, after he’d been turned. Playing his guitar was what had led him into Coraline’s net, into her world, and that was not something he wanted to remember. Coraline had always wanted him to play for her, and it was the one thing he’d always managed to refuse her. Even Tyler had never been able to convince him to try it, in spite of all the music scores he’d slipped to Mick over the years. But for Beth . . .
“That’s okay, you don’t need to,” she said, with only a little regret in her voice. “You can tell me something instead.”
“Tell you what?” he asked. His mind was still on music; he was trying to remember what it had felt like to finger the chords. It had been so long, so very long. Would he even remember how to play?
“Some of those things I need to know before we can really be together,” Beth said calmly.
Oh. All thoughts of music instantly vanished from Mick’s mind, and his nervousness returned full force. Uncertainly he said, “Now?”
“Why not? I’m not that tired, and it can’t possibly be your bedtime yet.”
“Well, no,” he admitted.
“I’m assuming some of these things have to do with vampire sex,” Beth said matter-of-factly. “That’s the part my parents never told me about, but I’m going to guess that there’s probably biting involved.”
Beth definitely knew how to reduce his tension, talking about vampire sex as if it were something as everyday as the latest story on Buzzwire. “Between two vampires, I think there always is,” he said. Certainly it had always been so in his experience.
“And between a vampire and a human?”
“It can be either way. Vamps in general can be with humans without revealing what they are.” Elaine and Josef could both testify to this, in fact. “But I don’t know if I can. As a vampire, I’ve always bitten down when . . .” he trailed off, looking up anxiously at Beth, but this didn’t seem to faze her.
“You said you’d never been with a human since you were turned,” Beth said. “So you don’t know what will happen, do you?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Is it the biting that’s so dangerous?”
“If I lose control, if I can’t stop myself . . . yes.”
“But when I fed you in the desert, all I had to do was tell you to stop. And you did.”
“Beth, you have no idea how hard that was for me. It was . . .” He couldn’t even find words for how dangerous it had been. “It was a very close thing.”
“But you were dying then. I hope you’re not going to be in that kind of condition when we sleep together.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be ideal.” Mick suddenly couldn’t help smiling. She’d said when we sleep together, even though he’d told her he was very likely to end up biting her. She didn’t seem bothered by that at all. He’d been tormented, thinking of it, wondering if she’d be able to accept it or not. How strange that it had turned out to be so easy to simply talk to her about it.
And she accepted the rest of the things he told her that night, though not without some grumbling. “I have to back off if you tell me to?” she said skeptically. “Exactly why does the woman have to do what the man tells her to do?”
“It isn’t that at all. If you were a vampire, and I was human, I’d have to back off if you told me to.”
“Ah. So the human has to do what the vampire says.”
It sounded extremely weird when she said it that way, but . . . “Yes, in this case. The vampire will know before you do if he’s about to lose control. And there won’t be much warning, so you can’t stop to argue. It’s important.”
Beth had been smiling, but she suddenly became serious. “Mick, I know there were some terrible things that happened right after you were turned. But did something else happen later on? Was there a time when you . . . lost control?”
“Yes.” He didn’t look at her, and kept his gaze on the floor. The memory of Rebecca flooded over him, and he seemed to see her again, lying pale and unconscious, nearly drained of blood.
“What happened?”
Elaine. Mick longed to tell Beth about her. He’d drunk blood in front of Beth and he’d shown her the freezer, but how could he say that he’d shared anything with her when he hadn’t told her a word about Elaine? But Beth couldn’t possibly be ready, yet, to know that he’d actually turned someone in the past. It had been such a short time since he’d refused to turn Josh. He couldn’t tell her yet. He couldn’t hurt her that way. He took a breath and said, instead, “Another vampire had to stop me.”
“That’s why you’re so worried,” she said softly.
“Yeah.”
“I get that. But I’m not afraid. You’re not going to lose control with me, Mick.”
“Sex is all about losing control.”
Beth shook her head. “It’s about letting down your barriers, and letting someone else inside.”
Her words caught Mick, held him. It had been that way once, with Lilah, in the golden days when he’d been human. With Coraline, sex had been sheer meltdown, a crazed time when he’d let go of every restraint and had given himself over to the vampire. Was that because I was a vampire? Or because I was with Coraline?
Elaine had never lost control with Kevin – Mick didn’t think she’d even given a thought to the possibility. He’d lost count of how many human women Josef had slept with. Mick himself had fed from Beth when he was dying, and he hadn’t harmed her even then.
I think most of the meltdown came from Coraline.
He nodded slowly, and said, “You’re right.”
“Which is just as well,” Beth said lightly, “since I don’t really want another vampire watching over you the first time we sleep together.”
Mick almost choked, even though that wasn’t possible for a vampire. He couldn’t help but imagine Josef pulling up a chair to watch . . . and probably offering critique, as well.
Beth grinned.
Mick sat up on the couch, reluctantly putting the pillow aside. It was near dawn, time to head for the freezer. He went upstairs to take a shower, and found himself thinking of Beth, of the way he’d held her in the spray of water the night she’d taken Black Crystal. Even his freezer made him think of Beth. He’d left the door to the freezer room open that night, in case Beth did need anything, and when he’d awakened, he’d been aware of her scent in the room. Had she come upstairs to ask for something, and then changed her mind about disturbing him? Or had she simply been curious? Ha, I can guess. Beth’s always curious. Mick smiled as he drifted off to sleep.
His dreams were faint, as they’d been ever since he’d turned back, but he dreamed of Beth. He saw her standing frozen over Spaulding’s body, a gun in her hand; he felt her pull the stake from his chest and gently touch the wound left behind. He saw her kneeling by the dingy motel bathtub, holding her arm out to him, absolutely determined to save him. The dreams fell apart when he woke, melting into nothingness, but he remembered the way he had felt. She calls me her guardian angel, but she’s mine, too. I need her. I miss her.
How much longer would he have to wait?
Two days passed, and Mick kept himself busy with other things. He contacted Gregory Foster’s great-niece and told her that the boy had probably run away from home, but that he hadn’t been able to find out anything more. If I told her what really happened to him, she wouldn’t believe me anyway. He then began to look into the whereabouts of the photographer Dean Foster – no relation, thank God, to Gregory. Dean had disappeared shortly after Tierney’s death . . . probably, Mick thought, because he knew that his blackmailing scheme would come to light. And Mick wanted to see the man prosecuted for that. Abbott was the one who’d killed Tierney, but Dean had done all he could to make her life hell.
Dean Foster had been involved in some shady business deals and had ended up deeply in debt, which explained where Tierney’s money had gone. But no one seemed to know where Dean had gone. Mick questioned some of the other paparazzi, including the two young vamp photographers, but no one admitted to having seen him. Dean Foster seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. Had he moved on to another city, taken another name – like a vampire who thought he was going to be exposed?
If he had, Mick would track him down. Like a hunter who had learned of a vampire's existence . . . and wouldn't rest until that vampire was dead.
The night Abbott had been arrested, Beth had asked what vampires did when they thought they were going to be exposed. He’d told her the basics . . . a new name, a new city . . . but he hadn’t wanted to talk about it, or even think about it. He’d quickly changed the subject by asking her out on their dinner date. But she was Beth, and changing the subject was not a strategy that had ever worked with her.
They’d walked on together slowly, side by side, watching the mob of reporters and police rush off into the distance. When they were finally alone, Beth reached out to him and took his hand, and he clasped it tightly. Her hand was so soft in his, so warm. He didn’t want to ever let her go.
“Mick,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Does it actually still work, these days?”
“Does what work?”
“Moving to another city. Changing your name.”
Mick bit his lip and walked in silence for a time. The truth was, it had never exactly been a sure thing. And in modern times, with modern technology, it was much harder to disappear. If Carl had pursued the Tejada case, if Mick had been forced to move on . . . that still might not have been enough to save him.
“It’s worked for decades,” he said cautiously. “For centuries.”
“But everything’s different now – it’s all digital and computerized. Everyone shares everything. Photographs, fingerprints, whatever.”
“That’s true, and it does make things riskier. On the other hand, people are a lot more skeptical than they used to be. If a vamp gets exposed, most people are gonna assume it’s a hoax.”
“Most people?” Beth stopped, pulling him around to face her. “You mean there are people out there who know. About vampires.”
Mick hesitated, then said, “Yes.” There wasn’t any way he was going to be able to hide this from her. “I told you a long time ago – people have been hunting us for thousands of years. And they still do. There are humans out there who know about vampires. And there are people among them who never stop hunting us.”
“So if they saw evidence . . . ”
“They’d know it could be real.”
“And they'd keep hunting, wouldn't they? No matter what. They might even find what they were looking for."
Mick nodded reluctantly.
“So moving on doesn’t always work,” Beth said, her voice strained.
“Not always,” he admitted.
“Oh God,” Beth whispered. She had gone very pale. Did she realize how close a call he’d had with the Tejada case? She probably did, even though he’d never told her how many people had seen him vamp out that night in the bar.
“Beth,” he said, gently taking both her hands in his. “Life is a risk. And there are a lot more risks out there for humans than there are for vampires. Humans have to worry about getting sick, getting old, getting hit by a bus. Even with the hunters out there, vamps have way better odds.”
Except this wasn’t really true, here in Los Angeles – not after what Lola had done. And how many vamps had Mick taken down himself, just these last few months? Per capita, the death rate in this town was currently a whole lot higher for vampires than it was for humans. So much for immortality.
“But what if someone looks into your past?” Beth asked. “Before I knew what you were, when I was trying to research your father, things didn’t fit together.”
Mick winced. It was true, he’d been far more lucky than careful, using his own name for so long, and Beth’s investigation had been a wake-up call. Since then he’d had Logan sort things out, both online and with faked documents, and if she looked into his past now, she’d find a clear history of Mick’s father and grandfather, passing the same name down from one generation to the next.
“Logan’s fixed that. It’s not a problem any more.”
“But if . . .”
“You worry too much, Beth.”
“You don’t worry enough.” She tried to smile.
“Yes I do.” Mick let go of her and put his hands on his hips. “I worry all the time. About you.”
This time, she did smile. “Come on. You know I never do anything the least bit dangerous.”
“Right.” Could he distract her another way? He leaned closer to her, reaching out to take her hands again, and she stared up at him, breathless, just as she had on the boat. Her eyes caught the light of the streetlights, sparkling, and then closed as he touched his lips to hers. He pulled her closer and kissed her again, passionately this time; her mouth opened to him and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. The sensations were so intense they made him dizzy, but how could that be? He was a vampire again, his sense of touch was dulled . . . but when Beth touched him, he almost felt human again. Beth slipped her hands inside his coat, kissing her way down his throat . . . God, he’d never even told her how erotic that particular spot was for a vampire . . . he was melting under her warm mouth, fighting for control, when he heard the sound of an engine speeding toward them.
He drew quickly away from Beth, putting her protectively behind him. He could hear her heart pounding in fear, even faster than it had been beating a moment ago. But the rapidly approaching vehicle was only a television news van, followed closely by another. With a screech of tires, they both hurtled past.
Beth sighed with relief. “They’re late for the party,” she said. “Are any more coming?”
Mick listened, peering into the darkness. “It sounds like it.”
“Great, TV news crews everywhere. Could anything be less private?” She reached up to give him one more quick kiss, and whispered, “Next time.”
She took his hand again, and they walked on. Mick could almost still feel her kisses, like gentle sparks against his skin, and he cursed the interruption. But somehow it was enough, for now, for him to walk beside her and hold her hand. They were almost back to the car, and this night was almost over. But he had a dinner date to look forward to, next time, and after that . . . well, after that, anything might happen.
Except it hadn’t. Mick drove through dark sheets of rain, remembering how he’d felt that night, how hopeful he’d been about their Arbor Bistro date. He still wasn’t sure what was going on, why Beth needed this time on her own. But that didn’t matter. He’d give her what she needed, however hard it was for him to do it. And it hadn’t been all that difficult to keep himself occupied with the search for Dean Foster.
Dean’s official residence was in Hollywood, conveniently close to his victims. The police had been there looking for him when he’d been a suspect in Tierney’s murder, but they hadn’t found anything of interest. Mick planned to go there later, but for now he was far more interested in the small basement apartment he’d uncovered, the place Dean had kept hidden from the world.
And there it was. The street number was almost invisible in the night rain, but it was clear enough to vampire eyes. Mick pulled the Mercedes up to the curb, got out, and headed for the door, taking a good look around. The neighborhood looked even worse than the area where Logan lived, but it was the middle of the night, and nobody was out in the rain. Mick cautiously pulled out his tools and opened the lock. It was a good lock, better than he would have expected for a place like this, and it wasn’t easy to open it. It hadn’t been easy for Logan to trace the money trail either – Dean had used several intermediaries - and Mick didn’t think the police had ever come across this place.
But when he opened the door and slipped inside, shaking off raindrops, he realized that Beth had.
He froze, his hand on the knob as he shut the door behind him. Her scent trailed down the stairs, into the pitch-black room below. Beth? Why had she come? Why hadn’t she told him? Had she been doing a story on Dean’s disappearance, before she’d quit Buzzwire? But why would Buzzwire even care that he was gone?
Beth had been frightened.
Mick plunged down the steps into the basement. The room seemed strangely empty for a photographer’s lair – no computer, no printer, no photographs anywhere. One cinderblock wall was littered with bits of tape and fragments of photo paper, but there wasn’t a single picture left on the wall. Had Dean grabbed his photos and taken off? Cautiously, Mick touched the wall.
He gasped and almost pulled his hand away. He saw the wall, covered from floor to ceiling with glossy photographs; he saw Beth, terror in her eyes, frantically ripping them from the wall and stuffing them into her bag. He could feel her fear, feel her heart racing in her chest. The pictures were a blur, crumpling in her hands; he couldn’t make them out . . .
What the hell was going on?
Mick went straight to Beth’s apartment, not caring in the least that it was the middle of the night. He knocked firmly at the door, impatient, fighting back the urge to simply break the door down. He could hear Beth stirring in her bedroom; he knew she was safe. He could wait a few more seconds. Finally the door opened and Beth stood before him, her face pale and her hair tangled from sleep.
“Mick? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
“I have to talk to you.”
“Okay,” she said uncertainly, and stepped aside to let him in to the apartment. He pushed past her, and as he paced back and forth, she made her way to the flowered couch and sat down. She looked shaky, and not just because she’d been awakened so abruptly. He could feel her fear, and it frightened him to feel it. His presence here was scaring her. Why?
“Mick, please,” she said at last. “Tell me what’s wrong."
He stopped, his hand gripping the kitchen counter, and said, “I just found Dean Foster’s place.”
“Have you been . . . looking for him?”
“Yeah. I didn’t like the way he just disappeared. He may not have killed Tierney, but he blackmailed her, and I didn’t want him getting away with that.”
“Okay. But the police had already searched his house, hadn’t they? Was there anything left to find?”
“I don’t know about his Hollywood house. I found the second place. The basement apartment he kept hidden.”
“Oh.” Beth’s voice was very small.
“Beth, why didn’t you tell me you went there? What were you doing? Were you putting together some kind of story on Dean?”
“I -- ”
Mick crossed the room and knelt in front of her, reaching out to take her hands. “Beth, I felt you there. You were terrified. And something’s been wrong with you; there’s something you don’t want to tell me. Please, I need to know what’s going on.”
“I didn’t want you to know,” she whispered. “I thought maybe you’d never find out.”
“Find out what?”
“About Dean Foster.” She swallowed, and he felt her hands shaking in his. “He tried to blackmail me.”
Shocked, Mick tightened his grip on her hands. “What in the world could he blackmail you with?”
“With you.”
“What?” What does she mean, with me?
“He was there that night, Mick. When the car hit you. He got photographs of everything, every detail, frame by frame. He saw you get hit, and he saw you get up and walk away. He – he called me at Buzzwire, and emailed the pictures. He said he wanted first access to every lead Buzzwire got, or he’d make you his first priority. He’d keep after you, and he’d make the pictures public.”
Dean Foster had threatened Beth, and Mick hadn’t even known? And there are photographs? A shiver of panic ran through him, an almost instinctive vampire fear of discovery. But then Mick remembered the vision, Beth tearing the pictures from the wall, and he let go of her hands. It’s worse than that. He was sick with shock, dizzy with fear; it felt as if the car was hitting him all over again.
“Beth,” he said hoarsely, “what have you done?”
“I couldn’t give Dean what he asked for," Beth said steadily. "It would never have been enough, and I would never have been able to trust him. You wouldn't have been safe."
“Beth. Tell me.”
“I went to Josef.”
Oh, God. Dean had disappeared because he’d been killed, and Josef was the one who had ordered it done. Dean had been a lowlife and a blackmailer, but he hadn’t deserved to die. Not just because he’d stumbled across Mick’s secret.
“I knew what Josef would do,” Beth went on, her voice finally starting to shake. “I tried to tell myself that maybe he’d just pay Dean off – I know he has plenty of money – but I knew all along what he’d do. So it was my decision, in the end. Not Josef’s.”
Mick stumbled to his feet, moving away from her, and sat, numb, in one of the chairs opposite the couch. Beth was watching him desperately, but he couldn’t even meet her eyes. “I told you, I could have just moved on,” he said, dazed. “I could have moved to another city, taken another name. You didn’t have to kill a man.”
“You also told me that didn’t always work,” Beth said. “Mick, he had photographs of every detail. Anyone could see how hard you were hit; anyone could see that it wasn’t faked. Do you really think hunters wouldn’t have picked up on that? Do you think they would have just let you go?”
Mick put his head in his hands. Of course they wouldn’t have, but --
“It was my decision,” she said again, her voice hard. “If I had it to do over again, I’d do the same thing.”
Mick was silent for a long time, lost in the blackness of his thoughts. He finally looked up at her, at her strained, sleep-smudged face, at her hands clasped together in her lap. She was so beautiful, no one would ever guess at the darkness that now lay on her soul. “What have I done to you?” he whispered, broken.
“What are you talking about?”
He moved to kneel in front of her again, and gently reached out to touch her face. She shivered. “This darkness in me,” he said miserably. “I never wanted it to touch you. Not like this.”
She stiffened, and he let his hand fall from her face. “Are you saying that because I had someone killed?” she said. “I’ve killed a man before. You know that.”
“Spaulding deserved to die. Dean didn’t.”
“Dean was a blackmailer, and worse. He tormented Tierney, and he did the same thing to other actresses before her. He may not have deserved what happened to him, but he was no innocent. Not like some of the people you’ve killed. Or had you forgotten about that?”
Mick flinched, lurching back as if she’d slapped him across the face. Beth was breathing hard, her hands clenched tightly together.
“That’s my shame,” Mick said, low. “Nothing like this should ever have touched you, Beth. Not you.”
Beth shook her head, looking as upset as he felt. “Mick . . . what do you see when you look at me?”
He glanced up at her involuntarily, uncertain what she meant.
“Do you still see me as a child? As an innocent? I’m not a saint, Mick. I’m not perfect. I never have been. I’m willing to do terrible things if I have to. I’ve killed two men, and I don’t care; I would do anything, anything, to protect you. What I did was my choice, and it was not your fault, so will you for God’s sake stop blaming yourself?” Beth was in tears now, but she rubbed fiercely at her eyes and got to her feet. “Look, now you know everything that happened. There isn’t any more to tell. You should go now. I can’t – I can’t bear the way you’re looking at me. Just go. Please.”
She hurried away, disappearing into the bedroom and closing the doors behind her, but he could still hear her sobs. Slowly he pushed himself up and left the apartment. It was still dark outside, and rain was streaming down. The sound of her tears mingled with the sound of the rainfall, and as he drove away, he could still hear her words in his mind.
-
This story is posted in two parts. The second part is in the same thread.
IN BETWEEN
fourteen and fifteen
In My Reflection
It was all so extraordinary, so new, so real: sitting at a table in a restaurant like any other couple, light glinting off their wine glasses, Beth’s eyes on Mick as she lifted her glass in a toast. Both of them dressed to the nines, a fine suit, a blue silk dress . . . both of them as nervous as if they’d never been on a date before in their lives.
“To vampires,” Beth said, and it touched Mick’s heart to hear this open acceptance of what he was, but he had a better idea.
“To us,” he said, tapping his glass against hers and taking a long drink of the wine. Beth looked radiant; she couldn’t take her eyes off him, and Mick’s dreams were coming true. He should have been happier than he had ever been before.
But something was wrong with Beth, something deep inside, and he didn’t have any idea what it was.
Mick opened the front door of the Arbor Bistro and followed Beth out into the night, into a chill wind that smelled of rain and far-off lightning. Beth pulled her coat tight over her dress, shivering, and Mick put his arm around her. She leaned into his embrace, her body relaxing against his, and he wondered, for a moment, if he’d been imagining things. No. Something’s wrong. “Beth, is everything okay?” he asked softly.
“Sure,” she said, sounding surprised. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. I just thought maybe something was bothering you.”
She glanced up at him, then walked on silently for a time. Finally she said, “I am nervous about quitting Buzzwire. It’s the right thing to do – I know I’d just go crazy, working there without Maureen. But it’s scary. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Mick knew how much Beth had loved working as a reporter. She was good at it; both at investigating stories and at presenting them. Would she be able to find another such job? She wasn’t likely to get a good reference from Buzzwire now. She had a lot of resume material on tape, of course, but would that be enough in this town? It was no wonder she was nervous. And maybe that was all that was wrong with her. The timing was right – Beth had been fine the last time he’d seen her, the night he’d asked her on this date, and at that time, she’d still been employed.
But Mick didn’t think she was really all that concerned about being jobless.
Maybe it’s all this death. Beth had lost both Josh and Maureen, in quick succession, and both of them had died violently, their lives cut far too short. And Beth had experienced Tierney’s death as well. Beth hadn’t known Tierney, but she’d been there when Mick had carried the girl’s body out of the dark cold harbor water, and she couldn’t have avoided feeling his pain. I know what it’s like to lose people you love, Beth had said, but she hadn’t known for long. Maybe the losses she had suffered were only just starting to sink in.
Or maybe it’s me. The newest thing in Beth’s life was her relationship with Mick. Now that he’d finally told her how he felt about her, was she having second thoughts? Was she realizing what it really meant to be this close to a vampire?
Troubled, Mick guided Beth to the Mercedes and opened the passenger door for her. Thunder rumbled in the distance, lightning flashed over the northern mountains, and the wind shifted. It was blowing hard now, gusting from the direction of the restaurant, and it carried a very faint scent of human blood. And of vampires. Mick stiffened, turning to look, and Beth caught his arm.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing.” If he’d been alone he would have gone to investigate, but there was no way he was going to let Beth get involved. He hurried to the driver’s side, got in, and quickly drove away.
They were both quiet on the drive to Beth’s place, both lost in their own thoughts. After Mick had walked her to her door, Beth stood staring at him for a moment, looking him up and down. She put a hand to his face, very gently stroking his hair back from his brow, never taking her eyes from him. Then she leaned against him and held him close, her face pressed to his shoulder. He could feel her love, her deep care for him, her commitment . . . but there was nothing flirtatious about her now, no teasing, no smiles. It almost felt as if she was saying goodbye. How could it be so frightening to feel how much she loved him?
“Was tonight . . . okay?” he asked uncertainly.
Against his shoulder, he felt her nod.
“Are we on for another date?”
Beth pushed back from him, and now she finally smiled. “Of course we are. Just not for a couple of days, okay? I think maybe I’m coming down with something.”
She wasn’t feeling sick, of course. She just wanted some time alone. But he played along, and said, “At least you won’t have to worry about missing work.”
“No, I won’t. I guess there are perks to being unemployed.”
He said good night to her, and she disappeared into her apartment. Mick thoughtfully went down the stairs and out the front door. He didn’t understand what was going on. He’d never felt so much love from Beth before, so much joy that he was there with her, but something was troubling her enough to make her want to withdraw. She really did want to see him again; he could feel that . . . just not right away. I told her I needed time, and she’s giving it to me. Maybe she needs time too, time to come to terms with all these changes in her life. It had been a huge step for her, to commit to a relationship with him so shortly after Josh’s death. She had been the one to instigate it, but that didn’t mean she’d actually been ready.
As long as she’ll see me again. And she will. I’m certain of it.
Reassured, Mick took his phone out of his pocket and turned it on. He’d kept it off for his date with Beth, but he didn’t want to be out of touch for too long. He was expecting a call from Logan at any time now, about Elaine’s laptop, and he had to be there for Elaine when Logan gave it to her. Quickly he checked his messages. He had one, but it wasn’t from Logan. It was from Josef.
Mick, I have some information about Coraline. Come by the house tonight if you want to take a look at it.
Damn Josef, he hadn’t even said in the message whether or not Coraline was alive. Mick shoved his phone back in his pocket and got into his car. He’d planned to return to the Arbor Bistro, to check out that ever-so-faint scent of vampire and blood, but it suddenly didn’t seem important any more. He put the car in gear and headed for Josef’s house.
“I just printed these out,” Josef said, putting a group of glossy photographs on the table in front of Mick. The shots were blurry, and had obviously been taken from a great distance, but he could easily recognize Coraline. She was walking toward a black car, her body half hidden by the man at her side. Lance. He hovered over her, as if guarding her. Or protecting her. Coraline’s head was bowed, and he couldn’t make out her expression, but her whole stance seemed resigned, accepting. Submissive. Mick had never seen her look that way before.
But she was alive, and she seemed to be well. Whatever punishment or confinement her family had meted out to her, it appeared that she was going to weather it. If anyone can land on her feet, it’s Coraline. But this time, Mick hadn’t been so sure about her chances for survival.
“When were these taken?” he asked.
“Earlier today.”
“Where?”
Josef just looked at him, and Mick sighed. “What else have you found out?”
“She doesn’t go out much, and when she does, she has an escort, almost always Lance. Whether she’s still there by choice or not, I couldn’t tell you.”
“I don’t think it’s by choice,” Mick said, gazing at each photograph in turn. None of them showed Coraline any more clearly than the first one did.
“You don’t know that. With her, everything’s a plot or a plan. This could be one too. She could be using her family right now, just the way she’s used everyone else in her life.”
Including me. And Beth. But Coraline had seemed so different the last time Mick had seen her, when she’d given herself up to save him. The look in her eyes, as Lance had taken her away . . . how could that not have been real?
“Talk to me, Mick,” Josef said. “What are you thinking? Please tell me it’s not about going off to rescue this woman.”
Mick hesitated. “No,” he said at last. Coraline seemed to be all right, and if she’d survived this far, she’d probably find a way to leave if she wanted to. And in the meantime, she was far, far away from Beth. Mick didn’t want them near each other, not ever again.
He picked up one of the photos, this time studying Lance. He was Coraline’s escort, but in what capacity? In this picture, it almost looked as if he was being protective of her. Did he actually care about her, on some level? His first loyalty was obviously to his sire, but Mick had the feeling that there was some sort of bond between Lance and Coraline. I think she’s safe with him, as long as her sire doesn’t want her harmed.
“What do you know about Lance?” he asked Josef.
“I’ve told you. He’s part of an old, powerful family, and you don’t cross him.”
“What about that eye? How does a vamp end up with something like that?”
“No idea. Turning isn’t an exact science, you know. Strange things happen. Maybe something that happened to him as a human just . . . didn’t heal, when he got turned. Like tattoos stay, because they aren’t really injuries or scars.” Josef looked uncomfortable – had he been thinking of Sarah, when he’d said strange things happen? – but then he shook it off, and shrugged. “Or maybe it has healed, and he just likes to freak people out with a wacko contact lens.”
Mick smiled at that. Still . . . Coraline had apparently done something similar. One night, after a great many drinks, she’d told him that she’d gotten the tattoo on her shoulder after she’d been turned. I was branded with that mark, as a human, she’d said darkly, staring into her glass. It was done to shame me. But I defied them, and took pride in it. When I was turned, and the brand disappeared, I had the fleur de lis put back on my shoulder, in ink.
“And there’s one other thing,” Josef muttered, sounding reluctant.
“Which is?”
“It’s not certain. But there are some rumors about the fire thing. That members of this family have been known to survive it.”
Mick frowned. “But why would the same family come up with the cure? Coraline said it was meant to disguise the characteristics of vampirism. Especially the effects of fire.”
“Healing instantly from fire would be just as suspicious as turning to ash, for that test,” Josef said. “They’d need a disguise just as much as any other vamp.” He was staring at the floor, not paying attention to what he was saying, his mind obviously on something else. “Mick. About that explosion.”
Mick looked up warily. “Yeah?”
“I really don’t know how I survived it. Maybe I did just move fast enough. But ever since you told me about Lance healing from that burn, instantly . . . I’ve wondered.”
“What do you mean? Josef, did you get caught in that fire and – and then heal?”
Josef shrugged helplessly. “I lost some time somewhere. The first thing I knew, I was out in the street. I guess it could have happened.”
“You mean you might be related to -- ”
“Don’t even say it. But I don’t know. My sire . . .she died before she ever told me anything about herself. I have no idea where she came from, who her blood family is.”
Mick looked at him in astonishment - Josef had never so much as mentioned his sire before. But Josef said nothing more about his past. He turned away, shaking his head, and said, “Hell, don’t pay any attention to me tonight, Mick. It’s all just crazy thoughts. You know what? I think getting caught in an explosion is something I’d remember. It would hurt like hell, and believe me, I remember pain. No. I’ve always moved fast, and I’ve always been lucky, and that’s all that happened. End of story.”
Mick went home that night mulling over Josef’s words, and wondering about Josef’s sire. A woman . . . a woman who had died before telling Josef anything about her own history. Well, he might have guessed that Josef’s sire would be a woman. But Mick wondered who she’d been, where she’d come from. Surely Josef had at least known her name. Where had it happened, and why? Josef had once used the name Konstantine, which made Mick think he might have originally come from Russia or Eastern Europe. But Josef’s accent had been utterly American ever since Mick had known him, leaving no trace of his past life. Had Josef chosen his vampire life, or had it been forced on him? The man certainly acted as if he’d chosen it, but it was hard to know for sure. And these days Mick found himself wondering about the origins of every vampire he met.
Were there others out there like Tyler, vampires who had never killed? Was there a way to turn someone without letting loose all that rage and blood and fear?
What would Mick have done if Beth had been shot that fateful day, if she had been the one dying in front of him, instead of Josh?
He still didn’t know. And the other night . . . Mick was certain that Abbott had been targeting Beth. How could Abbott have known that Mick would come down to the street to meet her? Abbott had followed Beth, he’d waited for her to get out of the car and step into the road. For him, Mick’s presence had only been an added bonus.
Mick opened the door of his apartment and went straight to the fireplace to turn it on. He was feeling a mental chill, imagining what would have happened if he hadn’t gone down to meet Beth, if he hadn’t been there to push her out of the way. I guess I have the paparazzi to thank for that. Though I don’t really feel like giving thanks to the likes of Dean Foster. If Mick hadn’t been worried about Beth encountering the paparazzi, he wouldn’t have gone down to her car. He would have waited for her here, in the apartment, and she never would have come. Would he have heard the car strike her, would he have heard her scream? Could he have possibly gotten to her in time to save her?
And if he had, what would he have done?
Mick stood by the fire for a long time, watching the bright flames leap through the crystals. He'd always found fire compelling; even now, in spite of the danger, it seemed to call to him, to draw him in. Coraline had feared fire, yet she’d kept it around her as if to prove her courage: a roaring fireplace in her home, the sparkler she’d carried on the night he’d met her. In the end, fire hadn’t killed her, and he wondered if she’d known that it wouldn’t. If she had known, she’d certainly never told him about it.
Was there any chance that she’d passed the ability to survive fire on to him?
He put his hand close to the fire, then slowly drew it away. There was no sense in testing it; if he didn’t have the ability, he would die. And he had so much – so very much – to live for.
Beth. Mick pushed aside melancholy thoughts, made his way to the couch, and settled down on it, pulling one of the throw pillows into his lap. This was the one that Beth had slept on. It still smelled like her . . . he lay down, putting the pillow under his own head, drinking in her scent. He missed her already, and he was worried about what was bothering her. How long did she want him to stay away? A couple of days, she’d said, but how long did that mean exactly? He sighed, letting his thoughts drift to the night she’d stayed over - and to the exquisitely awkward way that night had begun.
“I mean, if you need anything, I’m just right upstairs,” he’d said, pausing halfway up the steps.
“In your freezer?” Beth asked wryly.
“Yeah,” he said. In his freezer - which would, of course, make it rather difficult for her to ask for anything she needed. What was she supposed to do, come and knock on the freezer lid? God, why didn’t he think?
But she only smiled at him, and said, “Sweet dreams.”
“You too,” Mick said, and he hurried up the rest of the stairs, very conscious of Beth’s eyes on him. He reached the freezer room, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it. What was the matter with him? He hadn’t been this nervous since Beth had come into his apartment high on Black Crystal. He’d been fine tonight until Beth had started to flirt with him, and then he’d panicked. What in the world did he think he was doing? It wasn’t even midnight yet; there was no way he could sleep. He’d left Beth downstairs with nothing to help her sleep, not even a blanket. And he was almost dizzy with hunger. He didn’t want to drink blood in front of Beth, but it was completely insane to let himself starve while she was in the apartment. Put her in danger deliberately, why don’t you? Mick took a deep breath and went back out into the hall. He’d given Elaine the bed, but he’d kept back a couple of thick, soft blankets, and they were stored in his closet. He collected the blankets, hesitated for a moment, and then sorted through his shirts until he found the one that still had Beth’s scent on it. He slipped it off its hanger, piled it on top of the blankets, and headed back downstairs.
Beth was in the kitchen, peering into the nearly-empty refrigerator. She turned and looked at him in surprise, raising her eyebrows.
“I forgot a few things,” he said, putting the blankets on the couch. “Sorry about the fridge. I don’t keep much food here any more. I’m not even sure if the apples are any good.”
“Maybe I ought to keep a few things here, just in case,” she said lightly, closing the refrigerator door. “I don’t suppose you have an extra toothbrush?”
“No, sorry. But there’s this.” He held up the shirt to show it to her, and she smiled.
“Is that the same one you gave me before?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“I’ve never seen you wear it.”
“Well, no.” He’d never washed it, either, after that night. But he wasn’t going to tell her that he sometimes pulled it out just to smell it, to drink in the scent of her that clung to the cloth.
“Oh, blankets. Nice.” She poured herself a glass of water, drank it, and then went to the couch and sat down, pulling one of the blankets into her lap. “I thought you were just going to leave me with a bare couch.”
“I . . . got nervous. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Nervous? Why?” She looked concerned. “Really, I do understand that you need to take things slow. I was only teasing you.”
“I know. It’s just that there’s something I need to do, and I -- ” He thought of Tierney’s question, Can you be yourself with her? “I was afraid to do it in front of you.”
“Mick, what are you talking about?”
“Getting hit by the car.” He’d never been hit like that before, hadn’t imagined how much it would hurt, how much work his body would have to do to heal. For long seconds he hadn’t even been able to move. Broken ribs, internal injuries . . . he’d flashed back to the time he’d crashed the Mercedes, when his blood had been full of silver and he hadn’t been healing at all. “I was hurt. It’s all healed, completely, but -- "
“Oh, my God. Of course. You need blood.” Beth suddenly looked worried. “Do you even have any? There’s nothing in your fridge.” Without waiting for his answer, she unbuttoned her cuff and began to roll up her sleeve.
“No, Beth! No. You don’t need to do that. I have plenty; it’s just hidden.”
She followed him back into the kitchen, and watched as he moved the glassware aside and opened the hidden fridge. He took out one of the bottles. Maybe that wouldn’t look quite as awful as a bag of blood, and he really didn’t want to inject himself right now, even though that would be the best thing for him. Mainlining always, always brought out the vampire. He took a glass from the cabinet instead, and hesitated. Beth was watching him closely. She’ll accept your secrets, if only you’ll share them. But he was so ashamed of this one.
He picked up the bottle and started to unscrew the cap, his hands shaking. Was it because the craving had grown so strong, or simply because Beth was watching? “Here, I’ll get it,” Beth said, reaching out to take the bottle from him. “You don’t look so good.” She opened the bottle, poured half its contents into his glass, and pushed the glass toward his hand. “I’ve seen you drink blood before, you know,” she went on, her voice gentle. “And it was my own. I don’t think this is going to bother me.”
He managed to smile at her. “I know. It’s just hard for me to -- to not hide this.” He picked up the glass and stood frozen for a moment longer, then put it to his mouth, closed his eyes, and started to drink. When he tasted the blood his thirst took over, stronger even than his fear, and he gulped it all down quickly. When the glass was empty, he set it back on the counter, steadied himself, and slowly opened his eyes.
Beth was still there.
She didn’t look shocked, or disgusted, or even unsettled. She looked relieved.
“You look better now,” she said, pouring the rest of the bottle into his glass. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Good.” She pushed the glass toward him again and went back to the couch, busying herself with blankets and pillows. Mick slowly drank the rest of the blood, then rinsed out the glass, feeling stunned. Even he was disturbed by the fact that he drank blood; how was it that Beth was not?
He stepped around the counter and went to join her on the couch. She looked up at him thoughtfully and said, “Is that why you were so nervous? Because you needed blood?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
She shook her head. “I know you’re a vampire, Mick. It’s not like I don’t expect these things. You don’t have to hide what you are from me.”
“I’ve been hiding for so long, I don’t really know how to be open about it.”
“It must be a hard habit to break, when your life depends on secrecy.” She sighed. “But I’d like it if you could be yourself with me.”
Mick thought of Tierney’s question, of the disbelieving look on her face when he’d told her his relationship with Beth was complicated. He felt a sharp pang of regret, thinking of Tierney’s bright smile and her firm advice. If only he’d seen the danger. . . .
“Mick? What is it?”
“What you said just reminded me of Tierney. I don’t think she got a chance to be herself very often. Maybe it only ever happened when she was with Scott. I think it’s the way she would have defined love. Being able to truly be yourself with someone.”
“That’s not a bad definition,” Beth said. “Mick . . . you aren’t still blaming yourself, are you? I mean, even now we don’t know who did it. And you were looking for someone leaking information to the paparazzi, not for someone who was trying to kill her.”
“I know. I don’t really blame myself, but . . . I just wish I’d been able to help her.” He glanced up at Beth. “She asked about us, that last night on the boat.”
“She knew about us?”
“Well, not much. I told her it was complicated.”
“You would describe our relationship that way.” Beth smiled, rolling her eyes. “What did she say to that?”
“She told me to un-complicate it.”
“Good advice,” Beth said with satisfaction.
“Yeah, but she didn’t exactly know what was involved.” Beth took a breath, as if to argue, and Mick said quickly, “I mean, here we are. You actually like Dashboard Confessional. Is there really any hope?”
Beth grabbed one of the couch pillows and threw it at him; he ducked, and it flew past him to land on the floor. “I like a lot of different kinds of music,” she said, attempting to sound dignified. “Does anything current meet with your approval?”
“Sure it does. There’s all kinds of good music out there these days.”
“I’ll bet you still like oldies the best, though,” she said, teasing.
“Well, yeah. What can I say? They are the best.”
He got up to retrieve the pillow from the floor, and when he returned to the couch, Beth said hesitantly, “I was wondering if you’d play me something. Something you like.”
“Sure. I’ll put on a CD.”
“No, I mean play it. On your guitar.” She looked at him steadily. “I mean, only if you want to. But you did bring the guitar home with you.”
Mick sat down slowly, putting the pillow beside him. He’d gotten new strings, he’d restrung and tuned the instrument . . . why shouldn’t he do as she asked? But he felt frozen. I’ll never play again, he’d sworn, after he’d been turned. Playing his guitar was what had led him into Coraline’s net, into her world, and that was not something he wanted to remember. Coraline had always wanted him to play for her, and it was the one thing he’d always managed to refuse her. Even Tyler had never been able to convince him to try it, in spite of all the music scores he’d slipped to Mick over the years. But for Beth . . .
“That’s okay, you don’t need to,” she said, with only a little regret in her voice. “You can tell me something instead.”
“Tell you what?” he asked. His mind was still on music; he was trying to remember what it had felt like to finger the chords. It had been so long, so very long. Would he even remember how to play?
“Some of those things I need to know before we can really be together,” Beth said calmly.
Oh. All thoughts of music instantly vanished from Mick’s mind, and his nervousness returned full force. Uncertainly he said, “Now?”
“Why not? I’m not that tired, and it can’t possibly be your bedtime yet.”
“Well, no,” he admitted.
“I’m assuming some of these things have to do with vampire sex,” Beth said matter-of-factly. “That’s the part my parents never told me about, but I’m going to guess that there’s probably biting involved.”
Beth definitely knew how to reduce his tension, talking about vampire sex as if it were something as everyday as the latest story on Buzzwire. “Between two vampires, I think there always is,” he said. Certainly it had always been so in his experience.
“And between a vampire and a human?”
“It can be either way. Vamps in general can be with humans without revealing what they are.” Elaine and Josef could both testify to this, in fact. “But I don’t know if I can. As a vampire, I’ve always bitten down when . . .” he trailed off, looking up anxiously at Beth, but this didn’t seem to faze her.
“You said you’d never been with a human since you were turned,” Beth said. “So you don’t know what will happen, do you?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Is it the biting that’s so dangerous?”
“If I lose control, if I can’t stop myself . . . yes.”
“But when I fed you in the desert, all I had to do was tell you to stop. And you did.”
“Beth, you have no idea how hard that was for me. It was . . .” He couldn’t even find words for how dangerous it had been. “It was a very close thing.”
“But you were dying then. I hope you’re not going to be in that kind of condition when we sleep together.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be ideal.” Mick suddenly couldn’t help smiling. She’d said when we sleep together, even though he’d told her he was very likely to end up biting her. She didn’t seem bothered by that at all. He’d been tormented, thinking of it, wondering if she’d be able to accept it or not. How strange that it had turned out to be so easy to simply talk to her about it.
And she accepted the rest of the things he told her that night, though not without some grumbling. “I have to back off if you tell me to?” she said skeptically. “Exactly why does the woman have to do what the man tells her to do?”
“It isn’t that at all. If you were a vampire, and I was human, I’d have to back off if you told me to.”
“Ah. So the human has to do what the vampire says.”
It sounded extremely weird when she said it that way, but . . . “Yes, in this case. The vampire will know before you do if he’s about to lose control. And there won’t be much warning, so you can’t stop to argue. It’s important.”
Beth had been smiling, but she suddenly became serious. “Mick, I know there were some terrible things that happened right after you were turned. But did something else happen later on? Was there a time when you . . . lost control?”
“Yes.” He didn’t look at her, and kept his gaze on the floor. The memory of Rebecca flooded over him, and he seemed to see her again, lying pale and unconscious, nearly drained of blood.
“What happened?”
Elaine. Mick longed to tell Beth about her. He’d drunk blood in front of Beth and he’d shown her the freezer, but how could he say that he’d shared anything with her when he hadn’t told her a word about Elaine? But Beth couldn’t possibly be ready, yet, to know that he’d actually turned someone in the past. It had been such a short time since he’d refused to turn Josh. He couldn’t tell her yet. He couldn’t hurt her that way. He took a breath and said, instead, “Another vampire had to stop me.”
“That’s why you’re so worried,” she said softly.
“Yeah.”
“I get that. But I’m not afraid. You’re not going to lose control with me, Mick.”
“Sex is all about losing control.”
Beth shook her head. “It’s about letting down your barriers, and letting someone else inside.”
Her words caught Mick, held him. It had been that way once, with Lilah, in the golden days when he’d been human. With Coraline, sex had been sheer meltdown, a crazed time when he’d let go of every restraint and had given himself over to the vampire. Was that because I was a vampire? Or because I was with Coraline?
Elaine had never lost control with Kevin – Mick didn’t think she’d even given a thought to the possibility. He’d lost count of how many human women Josef had slept with. Mick himself had fed from Beth when he was dying, and he hadn’t harmed her even then.
I think most of the meltdown came from Coraline.
He nodded slowly, and said, “You’re right.”
“Which is just as well,” Beth said lightly, “since I don’t really want another vampire watching over you the first time we sleep together.”
Mick almost choked, even though that wasn’t possible for a vampire. He couldn’t help but imagine Josef pulling up a chair to watch . . . and probably offering critique, as well.
Beth grinned.
Mick sat up on the couch, reluctantly putting the pillow aside. It was near dawn, time to head for the freezer. He went upstairs to take a shower, and found himself thinking of Beth, of the way he’d held her in the spray of water the night she’d taken Black Crystal. Even his freezer made him think of Beth. He’d left the door to the freezer room open that night, in case Beth did need anything, and when he’d awakened, he’d been aware of her scent in the room. Had she come upstairs to ask for something, and then changed her mind about disturbing him? Or had she simply been curious? Ha, I can guess. Beth’s always curious. Mick smiled as he drifted off to sleep.
His dreams were faint, as they’d been ever since he’d turned back, but he dreamed of Beth. He saw her standing frozen over Spaulding’s body, a gun in her hand; he felt her pull the stake from his chest and gently touch the wound left behind. He saw her kneeling by the dingy motel bathtub, holding her arm out to him, absolutely determined to save him. The dreams fell apart when he woke, melting into nothingness, but he remembered the way he had felt. She calls me her guardian angel, but she’s mine, too. I need her. I miss her.
How much longer would he have to wait?
Two days passed, and Mick kept himself busy with other things. He contacted Gregory Foster’s great-niece and told her that the boy had probably run away from home, but that he hadn’t been able to find out anything more. If I told her what really happened to him, she wouldn’t believe me anyway. He then began to look into the whereabouts of the photographer Dean Foster – no relation, thank God, to Gregory. Dean had disappeared shortly after Tierney’s death . . . probably, Mick thought, because he knew that his blackmailing scheme would come to light. And Mick wanted to see the man prosecuted for that. Abbott was the one who’d killed Tierney, but Dean had done all he could to make her life hell.
Dean Foster had been involved in some shady business deals and had ended up deeply in debt, which explained where Tierney’s money had gone. But no one seemed to know where Dean had gone. Mick questioned some of the other paparazzi, including the two young vamp photographers, but no one admitted to having seen him. Dean Foster seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. Had he moved on to another city, taken another name – like a vampire who thought he was going to be exposed?
If he had, Mick would track him down. Like a hunter who had learned of a vampire's existence . . . and wouldn't rest until that vampire was dead.
The night Abbott had been arrested, Beth had asked what vampires did when they thought they were going to be exposed. He’d told her the basics . . . a new name, a new city . . . but he hadn’t wanted to talk about it, or even think about it. He’d quickly changed the subject by asking her out on their dinner date. But she was Beth, and changing the subject was not a strategy that had ever worked with her.
They’d walked on together slowly, side by side, watching the mob of reporters and police rush off into the distance. When they were finally alone, Beth reached out to him and took his hand, and he clasped it tightly. Her hand was so soft in his, so warm. He didn’t want to ever let her go.
“Mick,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Does it actually still work, these days?”
“Does what work?”
“Moving to another city. Changing your name.”
Mick bit his lip and walked in silence for a time. The truth was, it had never exactly been a sure thing. And in modern times, with modern technology, it was much harder to disappear. If Carl had pursued the Tejada case, if Mick had been forced to move on . . . that still might not have been enough to save him.
“It’s worked for decades,” he said cautiously. “For centuries.”
“But everything’s different now – it’s all digital and computerized. Everyone shares everything. Photographs, fingerprints, whatever.”
“That’s true, and it does make things riskier. On the other hand, people are a lot more skeptical than they used to be. If a vamp gets exposed, most people are gonna assume it’s a hoax.”
“Most people?” Beth stopped, pulling him around to face her. “You mean there are people out there who know. About vampires.”
Mick hesitated, then said, “Yes.” There wasn’t any way he was going to be able to hide this from her. “I told you a long time ago – people have been hunting us for thousands of years. And they still do. There are humans out there who know about vampires. And there are people among them who never stop hunting us.”
“So if they saw evidence . . . ”
“They’d know it could be real.”
“And they'd keep hunting, wouldn't they? No matter what. They might even find what they were looking for."
Mick nodded reluctantly.
“So moving on doesn’t always work,” Beth said, her voice strained.
“Not always,” he admitted.
“Oh God,” Beth whispered. She had gone very pale. Did she realize how close a call he’d had with the Tejada case? She probably did, even though he’d never told her how many people had seen him vamp out that night in the bar.
“Beth,” he said, gently taking both her hands in his. “Life is a risk. And there are a lot more risks out there for humans than there are for vampires. Humans have to worry about getting sick, getting old, getting hit by a bus. Even with the hunters out there, vamps have way better odds.”
Except this wasn’t really true, here in Los Angeles – not after what Lola had done. And how many vamps had Mick taken down himself, just these last few months? Per capita, the death rate in this town was currently a whole lot higher for vampires than it was for humans. So much for immortality.
“But what if someone looks into your past?” Beth asked. “Before I knew what you were, when I was trying to research your father, things didn’t fit together.”
Mick winced. It was true, he’d been far more lucky than careful, using his own name for so long, and Beth’s investigation had been a wake-up call. Since then he’d had Logan sort things out, both online and with faked documents, and if she looked into his past now, she’d find a clear history of Mick’s father and grandfather, passing the same name down from one generation to the next.
“Logan’s fixed that. It’s not a problem any more.”
“But if . . .”
“You worry too much, Beth.”
“You don’t worry enough.” She tried to smile.
“Yes I do.” Mick let go of her and put his hands on his hips. “I worry all the time. About you.”
This time, she did smile. “Come on. You know I never do anything the least bit dangerous.”
“Right.” Could he distract her another way? He leaned closer to her, reaching out to take her hands again, and she stared up at him, breathless, just as she had on the boat. Her eyes caught the light of the streetlights, sparkling, and then closed as he touched his lips to hers. He pulled her closer and kissed her again, passionately this time; her mouth opened to him and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. The sensations were so intense they made him dizzy, but how could that be? He was a vampire again, his sense of touch was dulled . . . but when Beth touched him, he almost felt human again. Beth slipped her hands inside his coat, kissing her way down his throat . . . God, he’d never even told her how erotic that particular spot was for a vampire . . . he was melting under her warm mouth, fighting for control, when he heard the sound of an engine speeding toward them.
He drew quickly away from Beth, putting her protectively behind him. He could hear her heart pounding in fear, even faster than it had been beating a moment ago. But the rapidly approaching vehicle was only a television news van, followed closely by another. With a screech of tires, they both hurtled past.
Beth sighed with relief. “They’re late for the party,” she said. “Are any more coming?”
Mick listened, peering into the darkness. “It sounds like it.”
“Great, TV news crews everywhere. Could anything be less private?” She reached up to give him one more quick kiss, and whispered, “Next time.”
She took his hand again, and they walked on. Mick could almost still feel her kisses, like gentle sparks against his skin, and he cursed the interruption. But somehow it was enough, for now, for him to walk beside her and hold her hand. They were almost back to the car, and this night was almost over. But he had a dinner date to look forward to, next time, and after that . . . well, after that, anything might happen.
Except it hadn’t. Mick drove through dark sheets of rain, remembering how he’d felt that night, how hopeful he’d been about their Arbor Bistro date. He still wasn’t sure what was going on, why Beth needed this time on her own. But that didn’t matter. He’d give her what she needed, however hard it was for him to do it. And it hadn’t been all that difficult to keep himself occupied with the search for Dean Foster.
Dean’s official residence was in Hollywood, conveniently close to his victims. The police had been there looking for him when he’d been a suspect in Tierney’s murder, but they hadn’t found anything of interest. Mick planned to go there later, but for now he was far more interested in the small basement apartment he’d uncovered, the place Dean had kept hidden from the world.
And there it was. The street number was almost invisible in the night rain, but it was clear enough to vampire eyes. Mick pulled the Mercedes up to the curb, got out, and headed for the door, taking a good look around. The neighborhood looked even worse than the area where Logan lived, but it was the middle of the night, and nobody was out in the rain. Mick cautiously pulled out his tools and opened the lock. It was a good lock, better than he would have expected for a place like this, and it wasn’t easy to open it. It hadn’t been easy for Logan to trace the money trail either – Dean had used several intermediaries - and Mick didn’t think the police had ever come across this place.
But when he opened the door and slipped inside, shaking off raindrops, he realized that Beth had.
He froze, his hand on the knob as he shut the door behind him. Her scent trailed down the stairs, into the pitch-black room below. Beth? Why had she come? Why hadn’t she told him? Had she been doing a story on Dean’s disappearance, before she’d quit Buzzwire? But why would Buzzwire even care that he was gone?
Beth had been frightened.
Mick plunged down the steps into the basement. The room seemed strangely empty for a photographer’s lair – no computer, no printer, no photographs anywhere. One cinderblock wall was littered with bits of tape and fragments of photo paper, but there wasn’t a single picture left on the wall. Had Dean grabbed his photos and taken off? Cautiously, Mick touched the wall.
He gasped and almost pulled his hand away. He saw the wall, covered from floor to ceiling with glossy photographs; he saw Beth, terror in her eyes, frantically ripping them from the wall and stuffing them into her bag. He could feel her fear, feel her heart racing in her chest. The pictures were a blur, crumpling in her hands; he couldn’t make them out . . .
What the hell was going on?
Mick went straight to Beth’s apartment, not caring in the least that it was the middle of the night. He knocked firmly at the door, impatient, fighting back the urge to simply break the door down. He could hear Beth stirring in her bedroom; he knew she was safe. He could wait a few more seconds. Finally the door opened and Beth stood before him, her face pale and her hair tangled from sleep.
“Mick? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
“I have to talk to you.”
“Okay,” she said uncertainly, and stepped aside to let him in to the apartment. He pushed past her, and as he paced back and forth, she made her way to the flowered couch and sat down. She looked shaky, and not just because she’d been awakened so abruptly. He could feel her fear, and it frightened him to feel it. His presence here was scaring her. Why?
“Mick, please,” she said at last. “Tell me what’s wrong."
He stopped, his hand gripping the kitchen counter, and said, “I just found Dean Foster’s place.”
“Have you been . . . looking for him?”
“Yeah. I didn’t like the way he just disappeared. He may not have killed Tierney, but he blackmailed her, and I didn’t want him getting away with that.”
“Okay. But the police had already searched his house, hadn’t they? Was there anything left to find?”
“I don’t know about his Hollywood house. I found the second place. The basement apartment he kept hidden.”
“Oh.” Beth’s voice was very small.
“Beth, why didn’t you tell me you went there? What were you doing? Were you putting together some kind of story on Dean?”
“I -- ”
Mick crossed the room and knelt in front of her, reaching out to take her hands. “Beth, I felt you there. You were terrified. And something’s been wrong with you; there’s something you don’t want to tell me. Please, I need to know what’s going on.”
“I didn’t want you to know,” she whispered. “I thought maybe you’d never find out.”
“Find out what?”
“About Dean Foster.” She swallowed, and he felt her hands shaking in his. “He tried to blackmail me.”
Shocked, Mick tightened his grip on her hands. “What in the world could he blackmail you with?”
“With you.”
“What?” What does she mean, with me?
“He was there that night, Mick. When the car hit you. He got photographs of everything, every detail, frame by frame. He saw you get hit, and he saw you get up and walk away. He – he called me at Buzzwire, and emailed the pictures. He said he wanted first access to every lead Buzzwire got, or he’d make you his first priority. He’d keep after you, and he’d make the pictures public.”
Dean Foster had threatened Beth, and Mick hadn’t even known? And there are photographs? A shiver of panic ran through him, an almost instinctive vampire fear of discovery. But then Mick remembered the vision, Beth tearing the pictures from the wall, and he let go of her hands. It’s worse than that. He was sick with shock, dizzy with fear; it felt as if the car was hitting him all over again.
“Beth,” he said hoarsely, “what have you done?”
“I couldn’t give Dean what he asked for," Beth said steadily. "It would never have been enough, and I would never have been able to trust him. You wouldn't have been safe."
“Beth. Tell me.”
“I went to Josef.”
Oh, God. Dean had disappeared because he’d been killed, and Josef was the one who had ordered it done. Dean had been a lowlife and a blackmailer, but he hadn’t deserved to die. Not just because he’d stumbled across Mick’s secret.
“I knew what Josef would do,” Beth went on, her voice finally starting to shake. “I tried to tell myself that maybe he’d just pay Dean off – I know he has plenty of money – but I knew all along what he’d do. So it was my decision, in the end. Not Josef’s.”
Mick stumbled to his feet, moving away from her, and sat, numb, in one of the chairs opposite the couch. Beth was watching him desperately, but he couldn’t even meet her eyes. “I told you, I could have just moved on,” he said, dazed. “I could have moved to another city, taken another name. You didn’t have to kill a man.”
“You also told me that didn’t always work,” Beth said. “Mick, he had photographs of every detail. Anyone could see how hard you were hit; anyone could see that it wasn’t faked. Do you really think hunters wouldn’t have picked up on that? Do you think they would have just let you go?”
Mick put his head in his hands. Of course they wouldn’t have, but --
“It was my decision,” she said again, her voice hard. “If I had it to do over again, I’d do the same thing.”
Mick was silent for a long time, lost in the blackness of his thoughts. He finally looked up at her, at her strained, sleep-smudged face, at her hands clasped together in her lap. She was so beautiful, no one would ever guess at the darkness that now lay on her soul. “What have I done to you?” he whispered, broken.
“What are you talking about?”
He moved to kneel in front of her again, and gently reached out to touch her face. She shivered. “This darkness in me,” he said miserably. “I never wanted it to touch you. Not like this.”
She stiffened, and he let his hand fall from her face. “Are you saying that because I had someone killed?” she said. “I’ve killed a man before. You know that.”
“Spaulding deserved to die. Dean didn’t.”
“Dean was a blackmailer, and worse. He tormented Tierney, and he did the same thing to other actresses before her. He may not have deserved what happened to him, but he was no innocent. Not like some of the people you’ve killed. Or had you forgotten about that?”
Mick flinched, lurching back as if she’d slapped him across the face. Beth was breathing hard, her hands clenched tightly together.
“That’s my shame,” Mick said, low. “Nothing like this should ever have touched you, Beth. Not you.”
Beth shook her head, looking as upset as he felt. “Mick . . . what do you see when you look at me?”
He glanced up at her involuntarily, uncertain what she meant.
“Do you still see me as a child? As an innocent? I’m not a saint, Mick. I’m not perfect. I never have been. I’m willing to do terrible things if I have to. I’ve killed two men, and I don’t care; I would do anything, anything, to protect you. What I did was my choice, and it was not your fault, so will you for God’s sake stop blaming yourself?” Beth was in tears now, but she rubbed fiercely at her eyes and got to her feet. “Look, now you know everything that happened. There isn’t any more to tell. You should go now. I can’t – I can’t bear the way you’re looking at me. Just go. Please.”
She hurried away, disappearing into the bedroom and closing the doors behind her, but he could still hear her sobs. Slowly he pushed himself up and left the apartment. It was still dark outside, and rain was streaming down. The sound of her tears mingled with the sound of the rainfall, and as he drove away, he could still hear her words in his mind.
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