Luscious Craving (25 page)

Steady
, I cautioned myself. Part of any vampire’s power rests in the minds of those he seeks to overcome. The more power I gave to the Chairman, the more he possessed.

“Please be seated,” the Chairman
said,
when my silent vampire guide had departed. There had been no sign of Simmons since that first night.

I took the chair I had occupied then, at the center of the base of the great triangular table that symbolized the power of the Board. Again, the Chairman sat opposite. This time, though, it wasn’t his face that riveted my attention but the necklace he wore. Hanging from a thick gold chain around his neck was an ancient Egyptian image, also made of gold.
An upturned crescent with a disc in its very center.
It was precisely like that of the headdress always depicted in images of
Thoth
.

The first Emblem
, I thought. For surely it could be nothing else. So the Chairman’s claims that the Board had obtained the first Emblem of
Thoth
were true. I felt my excitement kick up a notch.

In the days since acquiring the piece of paper from Sloane, I had done my best to translate the hieroglyphics upon it. It was beyond even my skill. It was almost as if they had been scrambled somehow.
Deliberately distorted.
In any other circumstances, I would have dismissed the entire paper as a hoax. Sloane’s behavior had made me reluctant to do that.

“The test you are about to undergo is called the
Albedo
,” the Chairman spoke in his strange and melodic voice.
“White, for purity.
Before any vampire can become a member of the Board, he must first purge himself of all lingering human emotion. Only in this way can he exist only for the Board and for its quest.”

Related to, yet not quite the same as the
Nigredo
, I thought. The first was a test of opening up to power.
This, a test to see if a supplicant could expel from himself that which was no longer important.
Human emotion.
Human ties.

“I understand,” I replied.

“Do you?” the Chairman countered, swiftly. “I wonder.” He moved then, leaning forward to place his hands upon the sole object before him, a manila folder. He slid it across the table toward me. “Open it.”

I did so. It was filled with pictures of Candace. The top one showed the two of us together, her hand in mine. She was laughing, her head tilted back so her curls cascaded along my arm. Something fierce and ugly twisted in my gut.
Sloane
, I thought.

“The Board has learned of your involvement with this woman,” the Chairman said.
“A
human
woman.”

“She is a willing woman with an empty place in her bed,” I said, my tone calm.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” the Chairman
said,
his voice like the crack of a whip. And my body jerked, as if he had given me an actual blow. Fire danced along every nerve ending in my body.

Oh, yes. This power is very, very real
, I thought.

“You disappoint me, Ash, and I do not care to be disappointed. Your relationship with this woman is far more complex than that, and far more important. She is a tie to the human world.”

“Yes, Chairman,” I acknowledged, and thought I knew where he was going.

“Your test, therefore, is a simple one. Make this woman one of us, undead, or end her life.
Which can be your choice.
For doing either will serve the
Albedo
.
Either will prove you are willing to eradicate every passion, sever all human ties. You are allowed no passions of your own, Ash, only the ones of the Board.”

“I understand,” I said again.

“Yes,” the Chairman said. “I think you do, this time. Go now, and return when your task is complete. I advise you not to disappoint me in this. If you fail, you will be destroyed.”

I stood, and bowed low. Then I left the room, my mind spinning in a thousand different directions. Was Sloane out there somewhere, already thinking that he had won? If so, he would gloat too soon, for I was ready for him. I had already revealed myself to Candace, had done so weeks ago. Slowly, carefully, I had prepared her for the next step, the inevitable step. The moment she gave herself to me fully and became a vampire.

I had been right to take as a sign the fact that Candace and the Board had come into my life on the same night.
A sign that I would have both love and power.
Never would I have to choose between them. They would be joined together for all time.

I will give Candace the picture
, I thought.
My face on one side, on the other, the Mark of
Thoth
.
A lover’s gift, a token of what was about to come.

Seventeen

Las Vegas
, present
Candace

The next afternoon, I was dressed in one of the few corporate-type suits I own and was on my way to St. Peter’s Children’s Hospital with Al. Randolph had decided to take me up on my suggestion and counter Lance Weatherly’s attempt at frightening patrons away from the
Sher
by staging a media event of his own. One that put the spotlight on someone only Randolph and the
Sher
could deliver: Senator
Hamlyn
. St. Peter’s Children’s Hospital had been built with funds from the No-Limits Foundation, so the tie-in was perfect.

The hospital is only five miles from the Strip, so it was about fifteen minutes from when we stepped into Al’s car until we stepped off the elevator to the fourth floor of the hospital. A nurse directed us toward a dayroom. The walls were covered with photos of animals and pictures enthusiastically colored and drawn. Low tables held art supplies, and big colorful boxes were filled with toys. There were about a dozen kids in the room, some attached to IVs, others sporting bandages, slings, or crutches.

I noticed a trio of men edging around the room, scanning every corner of it. I didn’t need Al’s whisper to tell me that these guys were the senator’s private security detail.

Senator
Hamlyn
stood to one side with
Randolph
. They both had rolled up the sleeves of their white shirts. It was that “going to get to work to solve your problems” look that public figures often affect when there are photographers around. Al went over to talk with them. I stayed by the door.

I watched Lance Weatherly, my least-favorite TV news reporter, aim a
mic
at a little girl who was hooked to an IV.

“And how are you today?” he asked with patently false cheer.

“Okay,” she said. I figured she was about five.

“Why are you here?” he went on. “Do you have a boo-boo?”

“I have cancer,” she said matter-of-factly.

Take that, you
s.o.b
., I thought.

Senator
Hamlyn
, with a politician’s unerring instinct for good PR, was suddenly kneeling beside the girl. “You know, a lot of people want to help you,” he told her. “We’re doing everything we can—”

“Let me get a shot of them,” said a voice behind me.

I looked over my shoulder. Diane Fernandez, whom I often saw taping on the Strip, elbowed Lance aside to aim her camera at
Hamlyn
and the girl. From her new position, she was standing right beside me.

“So, do you think he’s actually going to do it?” she murmured. She was film
only,
the sound on the camera was off.

“Do what?” I inquired.

“You mean you don’t know?” She lowered her voice, as a second cameraman got in on the action. “Word on the street is that
Hamlyn’s
ready to announce that he’s officially running for president. It could be any time. That’s what we’re really all here for.

“That guy’s new,” Diane said suddenly pointing to a man who stood in the crowd of reporters.

I looked at the man she had indicated, who was even now pushing his way toward the front of the press of reporters. He did not look healthy. His skin was a funny yellow color, as if he had jaundice.

“Definitely not,” I said. “Don’t you know him?”

“Not really,” Diane replied. “I think his name is Simmons, but whether that’s first or last…Uh-oh. I’m getting the ‘get over here now’ signal. Sorry.
Gotta
go.”

The senator went over to a podium that had the hospital’s logo prominently displayed across its front.
Randolph
was already standing on one edge of the podium, looking thrilled to be in the reflected glow of a
prepresidential
moment.

I stood to the left of the podium close to the door. Al remained at the far side of the room, his arms folded, his face expressionless,
his
eyes in constant motion as they scanned the room. On either side of him was the senator’s security detail.

Senator
Hamlyn
stood in front of the forest of
mics
on the podium, giving the cameras a calculated, megawatt smile.

“Good afternoon, my friends,”
Hamlyn
began. “I’m delighted to have the opportunity to be here today in St. Peter’s Children’s Hospital, proof of the extraordinary work being done every day by the No-Limits Foundation. It’s an example of what can be done when good people join together. It’s time for…”

My mind wandered as he went into his standard stump speech, though it did snap back when I heard a reporter ask about his presidential bid.

“No,”
Hamlyn
was saying now with that smile. “I won’t make an announcement about running for president of the
United States
this
year.”

There was polite laughter at the senator’s joke: The year was going to end in almost exactly thirty-six hours. I didn’t laugh. Thirty-six hours until New Year’s. Not a particularly happy thought. As another reporter asked the same question in a slightly different way, a motion caught my eye. Someone was pushing up through the crowd toward the podium.

Simmons
, I realized.

Before anyone could move, he jumped up and grabbed one of the microphones off the podium. “You’ve got to listen to me!” he shouted. “
Hamlyn
must be stopped! He’s not what you think he is. He wants to get into all our heads and control us!”

I had heard enough. As the senator’s detail began to close in, I leaped toward Simmons, grabbed him by the arm, and twisted it in back of him as I pulled him away from the microphones. I locked my other arm around his neck. A quick
tug,
and he was off the podium.

He didn’t go quietly. He jammed an elbow toward my stomach. I moved to the side, avoiding the jab, but didn’t release him.

“Ladies and gentleman,” the senator said, as his security team attempted to pull him away from the microphones and I planted one knee on Simmons’s back to pin him to the floor. “I’m sure it’s just a small difference of opinion. He must be a Republican.”

My blood was roaring in my ears. There was something wrong here.
Very, very wrong.
The moment I had touched Simmons, I had gone cold. He wasn’t human. He was a vampire. But so low level I hadn’t been able to detect him from across the room. That had never happened before.