Part 7 (2/2)

I reached out and touched her arm gently. Leo twisted around in a flash and latched onto me with his claws. We burst out laughing and had to fuss him until he let go.

”That night was creepy, but I could live with it,” she resumed, when the cat had received enough wors.h.i.+p to placate him. ”I talked to Domine. She didn't like the sound of it and she said they wouldn't get in again. But she was out yesterday. Someone let them in. I was on the door to the Sanctum, where you saw me tonight.”

She reached behind the sofa, bringing out a huge art folder and putting it on the coffee table. Pinned to the front was a fresh painting. It was done in oils, and looked as if it was still sticky.

Valerie's mouth twisted, as if she felt sick to her stomach.

”I can't remember exactly what happened. But I can remember what it felt like to me,” she said, pus.h.i.+ng the painting toward me. The intense colors had been spread with a knife, in sharp, straight lines. It was angry, wounded and violent. ”I can remember suddenly realizing what they were and being scared s.h.i.+tless. That's the point where things started to happen and it all just gets...” she gestured again at the painting and then pushed the folder away as if she didn't want to be reminded of it. ”Marcel was on the door with me. He said nothing happened. He couldn't remember them coming up the stairs at all. They did something to him. Even Domine didn't believe me until she looked at the recording from the security camera.”

Security footage? Hard evidence of vampire activity? I felt goose b.u.mps down my arms.

I'd need that recording from Domine and I had to get it to the colonel tonight.

”And you, Amber. You're one of them, but you're different. How is that?”

It felt like I'd been gut-punched. All the stuff from Domine about being like them was so much talk, unsettling but nothing more. Here was a girl who could sense vampires, and she sensed I was one. I'd been sitting here with my Ops 4-10 head on, thinking about nailing vampires in America for the colonel. If I was one too, what did that mean for me?

”What do you mean?” I stalled.

”When you got in my face at the club, I felt the same thing I felt that first night with the three of them. It was as if you'd called out something to me. You're one of them.” Leo uncurled and climbed into her arms, b.u.t.ting his head against her chin. ”But you're different somehow.”

”You're scared of them, but you're not scared of me?”

”I'm not scared of you. Not now. I can't explain. You don't give off the same vibe.” She frowned. ”You didn't answer.”

My lips twitched. No dummy, this one. ”I've been bitten. I don't bite.”

Valerie thought about this for a while. ”If you're not a...” she stumbled over finally saying it, ”a vampire, but you've been bitten, does that mean I won't become one either?”

Of course, that was a major reason why she worried, and it was a natural concern.

”I can't say for sure. It's been a year for me, and I'm not a vampire.” I shrugged. ”I think of it like an infection that my body is fighting.”

She thought about that for a while. Leo decided she'd calmed down and he settled on her lap.

”If you're not a vampire,” she said, ”then why are you looking for them?”

That felt more comfortable for me. Seem like a vampire. Not a vampire.

”It's something I do.”

”Oh my G.o.d!” Her eyes lit up. ”A real life vampire hunter?” She got up and knelt on the sofa, much to Leo's annoyance. ”With stakes and stuff?”

”No stakes, no holy water, no Hollywood.”

”But, y'know, the books say the best hunters are part vampire. Does that-”

”The books say a lot of things that aren't true.” I ran a hand through my hair. ”I hope these guys will vanish and you'll be okay. But while that happens, you need to be in North Platte.”

”Message received already.” She sat back. ”What about the rest of them at the club?”

”You've been bitten and they haven't. I don't care about them.”

I didn't really mean that; I was tired and talking carelessly. Valerie didn't like it.

”They're people, Amber. People see they're different and use that as an excuse for all sorts of c.r.a.p. You can't. You have to understand; you're different, too.”

She pulled the art folder back and opened it, leafing through until she found what she was looking for and pulled it out.

”There,” she said, putting a painting in front of me. It was beautiful: two angels entwined, male and female, rising out of shadow. Their hands reached up into brilliant suns.h.i.+ne. The female model was Giselle from the club, and she was already beautiful. The male model had a face I'd have had to describe as ugly, but the artist had transformed him with an expression of joy.

”I'm no art critic,” I said, ”but I'd say it's excellent. Is it yours?”

”No. That's Marcel's work. If I just had a tenth of his talent, I'd be happy.”

”Never works like that-”

”I know, I know,” she said. ”We're never happy if we think like that.”

”But anyway, you are talented.” I waved at the pictures on her walls.

She turned and looked at me grumpily. ”I paint funny penguins. I know you say you're not an art critic, so I'll give you a small hint. There's a difference.”

I laughed and, after a while, she joined in. It was good to see the tension in her reducing.

But she wasn't finished. ”And Giselle.” She tapped the painting. ”You spoke to her.”

”Well, we didn't really speak,” I said. ”But yes, I met her briefly.”

”And because she dresses up in the evening and wears an angoisse, she's not worth any concern.”

”No-”

”She used to have another job until someone found out she comes to the club. Guess what it was.”

I held my hands up in surrender.

”She used to be a teacher. And-”

”Okay, okay.” I stopped her. ”But my point stands. You've been bitten. They haven't. I want you out of sight. Go back to Nebraska. Visit your parents.” I smiled. ”Find a discreet cousin.”

She snorted.

I leaned back on the sofa. ”Does anyone know how to contact you there? Anyone at the club?”

”Only Domine.”

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