"Jeremy, you"ve got to believe the best will happen. If we spend our lives expecting the worst, we only add to our own anguish.
As things happen, we deal with them. So let"s believe in Mary right now. Let"s give her a chance to get better."
Was she a liar? She asked herself. No. There was a chance.
Except that...
She found herself looking over her own shoulder. Far too often now, she had the feeling there was someone behind her.
Someone...whispering her name.
"Jessica?"
When her name was actually spoken softly from the doorway, she nearly jumped from her seat.
But the speaker was real, and she knew the voice. Her eyes flew to the doorway, and she rose, surprised, but pleasantly so. Big Jim and Barry Larson were in the doorway.
"What are you two doing here?" she whispered.
"We play for the kids in the wards sometimes in the afternoons," Big Jim said. "Thought you knew that."
"You"ve probably mentioned it," she said.
"How"s the girl?" Barry asked, concerned.
"She seems to be holding her own.
"Glad to hear it," Big Jim said, and nodded.
By then Jeremy had risen. He walked to the door, mouth tight. "Mary shouldn"t be disturbed," he said, obviously not about to trust any visitors he didn"t know.
"These are friends of mine, Jim and Barry. Musicians. They come to the hospital to play for the kids," she explained.
"Good to meet you," Jeremy said. "But she shouldn"t be disturbed."
"We were just checking in," Big Jim said. "You come see us sometime, son."
Jeremy thanked him stiffly and waited pointedly for them to leave. As soon as they did, he resumed his seat.
Jessica did the same.
He reached for her hand, and she squeezed his in return.
Mary looked better. She should make it just fine.
Or was she telling herself a pack of lies?
Sean Canady stared at his visitor, his years on the force allowing him to maintain a totally impa.s.sive expression, despite his surprise.
Admittedly, he"d expected some skinny guy with gla.s.ses who looked like he never left the university library, and he hadn"t relished the job of talking to the man, even if the order had come straight down from the mayor"s office.
Instead, the man sitting across from him wasn"t huge, but he was still big; and he had...presence. The Indiana Jones type, Sean decided.
Had there been any recent rumors about vampire cults or activity? He wanted to know.
h.e.l.l, this was New Orleans. There were always rumors.
And that was exactly what he said. He stared at his visitor and indicated his computer. "If we spent the entire day here, I couldn"t show you every report regarding some kook who thought he was a vampire, a "vampire party" that had gone haywire, weird rites in a cemetery, or a drunk who bit another drunk on the street."
"I know," Bryan MacAllistair said, offering a rueful grin. "I know."
Sean glanced down at the notes on his desk, then looked once again at the man before him. "So you were in Romania for that recent trouble?" Sean was careful when he spoke. He knew so much about the underworld. Information that, for the sake of his job and his family life, he was careful not to share too often.
"I was in Romania giving a series of lectures when the trouble occurred," MacAllistair corrected him. "I"d heard a few rumors in the street and mentioned the situation to the police. If they"d taken the matter a little more seriously...." He shrugged. "Who knows? Apparently whoever was behind the trouble got away."
"But no one was killed?" Sean asked. Then he leaned back, shaking his head. "I guess the girl in the hospital...well, I"ve heard she might not make it. The doctors can"t find a reason, but she seems to be slipping away." He shook his head, tired. "I know kids from here were there," he said, "but no crime took place here, and there must have been people from all over the world at that party. I"m not sure why you think something might happen in New Orleans."
The sky, he thought, unbidden. Even Maggie had mentioned the sky.
"I"m not saying anything is going to happen here," MacAllistair told him. "It"s just that three kids from here were involved in the mess. And there"s often trouble in places that celebrate some of the grislier aspects of history, or where you tend to get people who think they"re vampires or whatever. A young woman was found dead in Edinburgh after an illegal party in the vaults beneath the city. They do ghost tours there the same way they do here, and the vaults are supposed to be haunted. Paris, three months ago, after an illegal party in the catacombs several people were found dead-beheaded. In Italy, a party in an old castle left four dead. From what the police in each city gathered, the victims were sucked in by thinking they were going to a wild, sensual, ever so slightly illicit vampire-themed party."
"Has an international task force been set up?" Sean asked.
MacAllistair shook his head in disgust. "Most of the authorities seem to think it"s a sign of the times, that there"s no connection from one party to another. I can"t really blame them, not completely. The whole vampire thing makes it pretty far-fetched."
Sean glanced at his notes again. "You warned the police in both Edinburgh and Paris?"
MacAllistair nodded.
"A suspicious man might think these parties are following you around," Sean said, eyes hard. Bryan reached into the briefcase on the floor beside him and produced a folder full of newspaper clippings. "The first is about a small town in Switzerland where five people went missing. The accepted theory is that they disappeared skiing, but the bodies were never found. And there was a party there that weekend."
Sean looked up sharply. "I take it you weren"t in Switzerland."
"No, I wasn"t."
Sean studied the man.
"Were you ever a cop?" he asked, following a hunch.
For the first time, Bryan hesitated. Then he shrugged. "Officially a police officer? No. I"ve just aided a lot of investigations because of my expertise."
"In vampires?" Sean asked skeptically.
"In old legends, ancient societies, that kind of thing."
Sean eased back in his chair. "Do you believe in vampires, Mr. MacAllistair?"
If the man thought he was being baited, he took no offense. "I believe there"s evil out there, that"s for certain. I believe there are people who believe they"re vampires or the Devil"s disciples or what have you. And here"s one of my important beliefs-some of these people have money. They can pay for whatever debauchery or fantasy they want. They can travel around the globe. They can get the word out. They can pay for all the right stuff to pull in the unwary. That"s one of the reasons I stopped by today, hoping I could at least warn you that if you hear about promoters pushing something that"s a little hush-hush, you"ll be on the lookout."
Sean nodded. "Right. Well, if you discover you know anything about anything going on here, I"m sure you"ll be right back in."
It wasn"t a question; it was a command.
Red skies at night...
MacAllistair stared straight back at him, bemused. He seemed like a man who held his temper, who knew how to show respect- and demand it in return as well. "I"ll be in now and then. And I"m sure, if you decide you need my help, you"ll let me know immediately."
Sean felt a grin twisting his lips. He liked the guy.
"I"ve got a cell number here for you, compliments of the mayor"s office. Where are you staying in New Orleans?"
"At Montresse House."
Sean couldn"t help it; his eyebrows shot up. "With Jessica?"
"You know my hostess?" MacAllistair was clearly surprised.
Sean nodded carefully. "Yes, she"s a friend."
"Are you from here, Detective?"
"I am."
"But Jessica Fraser isn"t." "No, we were introduced by mutual friends."
Sean didn"t know why he had offered that much information; he didn"t owe this man any explanations.
He felt a warning chill at the back of his neck, like hackles rising. He was as suspicious as all h.e.l.l, and yet...
He still liked the guy. He hesitated and let out a sigh. "I"ll take help in any form that I can get it. We were devastated by the storms, you know. This place was like a war zone. I love this city, and there are areas where it will be years before things get back to anything like normal. We don"t need anything to set us back further. Don"t worry. If I think you can help, if I think I have information that can help you to help me, you can bet I"ll call you. This is a tough town to know the simply bizarre from the bizarre and dangerous. So when will you be lecturing, Professor?" Sean asked, consciously changing the subject.
MacAllistair looked at his watch. "Actually, in about three hours. You"re more than welcome to attend. It"s in the main auditorium at seven."
With a wave, he rose and left. Sean watched him go, then kept staring at the door, deep in thought.
"Hey, Lieutenant?"
He started. Bobby Munro was standing in the doorway.
"Yeah, Bobby. What is it?"
"I"ve got those McCardle case files you asked for."
"Oh, yeah. Thanks."
"Why was the professor here? The guy who just left."
"You know him?"
"Yeah. I met him over at Montresse House the other night. What, he thinks he"s a cop or something, just because he"s smart?"
"He thinks we may have some cult activity around here. You know, wackos who think they"re vampires."
Bobby laughed. "Oh, like that would be weird-in New Orleans."
Sean smiled. "You have a point. Anyway, let me see the records, and thanks. I think McCardle is at it again. I think the woman we found dead in a Dumpster last week was one of his victims. I want to be ready when we go to the D.A. with this."
"Right, Lieutenant."
Bobby left. Sean stared at the files until his eyes swam. McCardle was dangerous. A big-time dealer. He needed to be in prison.
Beyond a doubt, the man was evil.
Yeah, but he was an evil Sean could do something about. He knew he would get the perp locked away for good. Knew it.
But the kind of evil MacAllistair was talking about...
He swore, wishing to h.e.l.l the man had never walked into his office.
6.
J essica had barely left, but it had seemed to Jeremy that he had been exhausted forever. He felt himself drifting off, then started, a sense of panic filling him as he realized he was not alone with Mary. There was a man in the room.
The man turned toward him, and Jeremy let out a breath of relief and stood. It was the professor, Bryan MacAllistair. He"d heard the guy was teaching in New Orleans, and any other time, he would have been at every lecture.
He"d heard him speak in Transylvania and been impressed. He"d even talked to him briefly before...before the night of evil, as he thought of it now.
And he knew that MacAllistair had talked to the police; during his own final interview with Florenscu, just before he"d headed home, the Romanian detective had been far more willing to listen. The policeman had never believed in real vampires, but something MacAllistair had said to him had made him pay more attention to Jeremy"s a.s.sertions.
"Professor. Or doctor. What should I call you?"
"How about Bryan?" the man suggested, greeting Jeremy with a firm handshake.
"How are you doing?" Bryan asked him.
"Okay," Jeremy said. What a crock. He wasn"t okay. He was going crazy.
"And Mary?"
"I"m feeling pretty good about her today," Jeremy said. "The doctor said earlier that her blood levels were stabilizing."
"Good."