Under Darkness Part 7

Instead I woke near dawn with something knocking inside my head like a twenty-pound sledgehammer. I sat up in bed and groaned. Beyond the painful thuds of the hammer, an annoying tapping came from the windows. I swung my legs to the floor, stood, and made my way, bleary-eyed, to check it out. A thunderstorm had moved in over Manhattan. A slanting silver rain beat against the gla.s.s.

"Ohhh, please shut up," I moaned. In reply the wind threw a spray of raindrops big as jellybeans against the window where I stood. The noise smacked against my eardrums like a handful of ball bearings. Well, f.u.c.k you too Well, f.u.c.k you too, I thought.

This was the worst hangover I had ever experienced. I hadn't consumed any alcohol. I was hungover from Darius.

I pried my eyes open wide enough to look carefully around the bedroom. The pillow still bore the imprint of his head, but he wasn't here. I moved sluggishly into the living room. Jade jumped up expectantly, excited to see me, hoping to go out.

Otherwise the room was empty. Darius must have left some time ago. He had brewed a pot of coffee. A mug sat forlornly on the granite counter. The brown liquid was cold when I dumped the remains into the sink.

I rationalized that he had to return to his car under cover of darkness, and the June nights were short. He could have left a G.o.dd.a.m.ned note at least He could have left a G.o.dd.a.m.ned note at least, I thought. He flies back into my life. He flies out. He leaves behind the wreckage and detritus of my heart He flies back into my life. He flies out. He leaves behind the wreckage and detritus of my heart.

I swear to G.o.d, after more than four hundred years you'd think I'd learn.

My entire schedule had gone to h.e.l.l too. I usually retired to my coffin early in the morning, when the sun lit the eastern sky or shortly thereafter. I rose again when the sun sank below the rim of earth in the west. The lengthening days already played havoc with my routine. I had developed insomnia from oversleeping, and of late I tended to wander from room to room from five o'clock in the evening until dusk, the thick velvet curtains blocking the persistent daylight.

The last thing I needed under the circ.u.mstances was a nap, even if it had been more akin to a coma than sleep. As a result I was sure to lie awake, tossing and turning, most of the long June day. I'd feel like c.r.a.p by evening. Actually with the pounding in my head I guess I couldn't feel much worse. Where had I put the ibuprofen, anyway?

As I headed for the bathroom to search through the medicine cabinet, I picked my light jacket off the floor where I had dropped it a few hours ago. I fished my cell phone from my pocket to check my voice mail. A click on the message center reviewed that I had three new voice messages and one text message.

First, Audrey, her voice excited, said she found something really interesting and would fill us in tonight. Benny came on next; her words tumbling out frantically. Martin hadn't shown up at the club. He didn't call in. He didn't answer his phone. She was going to go looking for him. I grimaced and hoped she didn't find him in flagrante delicto. Third was J. He offered no h.e.l.los, just stated without preamble: "We've had contact. Be here at eight thirty. On time."

Contact from whom? About what? I wondered.

The fourth message was a text message that read: SOTMG CUL8R RUOK LY BYKT BFN. Translated into plain English, Darius had written, Short of time, must go. See you later. Are you okay? Love you. But you knew that. Bye for now Short of time, must go. See you later. Are you okay? Love you. But you knew that. Bye for now. Evidently during his days as a rock star, he learned it was no longer cool to put pen to paper.

The devil on my shoulder spoke then. Of course he left a text message. Julie would have overheard him otherwise Of course he left a text message. Julie would have overheard him otherwise.

The angel on my other side countered with, He was probably somewhere in public. Give him the benefit of the doubt He was probably somewhere in public. Give him the benefit of the doubt.

I wasn't sure what to think, but I had, at least, a communication from him. It wasn't one that I could fold away and put under my pillow, but he had written he loved me. Sort of.

And when was "later"? And something else nagged at me. When earlier tonight I had accused him of not being sorry for Julie or lying or for sending vampire hunters to kill me, he never denied it. He just said we'd talk about it.

I mean, what the h.e.l.l was there to talk about? Causing my imminent death was not a negotiable item. I was flipping mad all of a sudden.

I was fast working myself up into a generally p.i.s.sed-off state. Besides my ambivalence about Darius's behavior, I knew from the steady racket outside the window that the rain still came down like walls of water. Day would be dawning in what? Fifteen minutes? And my dog had to go out.

That wasn't a negotiable item either. When Jade took a dump, it was by the shovelful. I grabbed my supersize p.o.o.per-scooper, snapped on her leash, and limped out the apartment door.

When I came back minutes later from the slick-splashed streets of the city, my hair was wet. My clothes were drenched. My dripping dog left a wet trail across the parquet floor. I barely noticed. My emotions still reeled. My mind was in chaos.

My cell phone beeped. A text message waited, JTLUK CU PM KOTL. Just to let you know. See you tonight. Kiss on the lips Just to let you know. See you tonight. Kiss on the lips. It wasn't much. But it was better than nothing. Fleetingly I had the idea that Darius might not have written it himself. Anyone could have sent it. A stupid thought. The suspicious idea would not have occurred to me at all if J hadn't spooked me earlier with his warning.

I answered this second text message, AAS LY2 L8R. Alive and smiling. Love you too. Later Alive and smiling. Love you too. Later. I hesitated; then I typed in, MUSM. Miss you so much Miss you so much.

I am a fool for love.

I stripped off my sodden clothes, took a shower, and headed for my secret room. My headache had receded into a dull throbbing. I downed two more ibuprofen and climbed into my coffin. Darkness enveloped me. I smelled the loamy Transylvanian earth beneath my pillow. I sighed and shut my eyes. I had survived for one more day. Surprising myself, I quickly drifted off into sleep, experiencing neither joy nor sorrow, not even in my dreams.

Chapter 8.

"I look upon this world as a wrecked vessel. G.o.d has given me a lifeboat and said, 'Moody, save all you can.'"-Dwight L. Moody, evangelist

I awoke at twilight, sorely troubled in mind and spirit. The night stretched before me, filled with uncertainties. I would soon venture forth to save the world. Yet how could I save the world when I couldn't even save myself?

Always the drama queen, the voice of my mother echoed in my head. She was right, as usual. What had really happened? Darius had returned, we had s.e.x, he left. Same s.h.i.+t, different day. Get over it Get over it, I admonished myself. Besides, he didn't really leave this time. I'd see him tonight. Maybe.

Yet I had an uneasy feeling that Darius had an ulterior motive for coming here, and our spontaneous combustion had been just a fringe benefit. You really are getting paranoid, Daphne girl You really are getting paranoid, Daphne girl, I said to myself. Can't you just believe the man loves you Can't you just believe the man loves you?

No. No, I can't.

I dressed with more care this evening than last. I didn't say I dressed better better, I just thought more about it. I wore soft, faded jeans and a black cotton T-s.h.i.+rt. Instead of the Nike cross trainers I wore last night, I put on a pair of Adidas running shoes. I retrieved my Louis Vuitton backpack from the back of a chair. Inside I placed a well-oiled, well-made Beretta Tomcat Laser Grip: small enough to be comfortable in my hand, outfitted with the latest laser technology, all I had to do was point and shoot. I would not be found unarmed the next time the vampire hunters came for me.

On my way out I stopped in the lobby to tell Mickey to let Darius into my apartment if he arrived before I got back.

"You think that's smart?" Mickey asked.

I nearly snapped at him that it was none of his business, but I bit back the retort. "What's the problem?" I asked.

"Trouble and your old boyfriend both show up at the same time. I gotta ask why."

I had been thinking the same thing, of course, but I didn't like Mickey saying it out loud. "I'll take it under advis.e.m.e.nt. I know you preferred Fitz," I added in a gentle voice, and put my hand on his arm.

Mickey's rheumy eyes seemed to tear up. "Now, there was a man. You could have trusted Mr. Fitzmaurice with your life, Miss Urban."

"I know. And I did. But he had to go into hiding. He can't come back. There's a price on his head. He told you that himself before he left."

"Aye, and he asked me to watch out for you. That's just what I'm doing."

"You're a stubborn old Irishman," I said, removing my hand and turning to leave.

Mickey's shoulders straightened and his chin thrust forward. "That I am."

"But let Darius go upstairs anyway," I said, giving him a meaningful look as he held open the front door for me.

With a reddening complexion, Mickey nodded his head. As he ambled over to his desk I could clearly hear him muttering. "Aye, I will, but I don't like it none."

Daylight, although weak and fading, made it uncomfortable for me to venture out at this hour. Necessity drove me, and to tell the truth, my foray into the outside world was hardly fatal. Not only had the sun disappeared below the horizon, but Manhattan's canyons of steel kept me in the shadows.

I hugged the deeper shadows near the buildings as I walked. The rain had ended sometime earlier. I took a deep breath of air washed clean by the downpour. Nevertheless, it still smelled of car exhaust and Chinese food. At the kiosk on the corner of my street and Broadway I picked up two newspapers to read on the way downtown. Then I disappeared into the stairs leading to the Seventy-ninth Street station like Alice going down the rabbit hole.

The subterranean gloom quickly enveloped me. I felt at home in the man-made caverns beneath the city streets. I could imagine myself hanging by my toes from the girders in the roof. I smiled to myself. Wouldn't that be a sight for jaded New Yorkers? Chances were that most of them would glance up, see a giant bat hanging upside down, figure it was a publicity stunt, and continue hurrying along to their destinations. No oohs or ahhs, no fear, no curiosity. That's New York. It has to be something truly spectacular to impress this city... like the Yanks beating the Red Sox in the playoffs and then winning the World Series.

The squealing brakes and deafening roar of the number one local coming into the station made me pale with the memory of my narrow escape last night. As soon as I was seated in the nearly empty car, I scanned the New York Times New York Times to see if the demise of the vampire hunters had made the paper. I saw nothing in the Metro section, but I wasn't surprised to find no coverage of the incident. I did spot a story on boutique ice creams being made in Brooklyn. That's the to see if the demise of the vampire hunters had made the paper. I saw nothing in the Metro section, but I wasn't surprised to find no coverage of the incident. I did spot a story on boutique ice creams being made in Brooklyn. That's the Times Times for you: "All the news that's fit to print." I ripped out Will Shortz's crossword puzzle just in case I had time on my hands later, a vain hope, and tossed the rest of the pages on a nearby seat. for you: "All the news that's fit to print." I ripped out Will Shortz's crossword puzzle just in case I had time on my hands later, a vain hope, and tossed the rest of the pages on a nearby seat.

The New York Post New York Post didn't let me down, however. On page twelve I spotted a short two-column article t.i.tled, "Gruesome Subway Mishap": didn't let me down, however. On page twelve I spotted a short two-column article t.i.tled, "Gruesome Subway Mishap":

Two men met a violent death on the tracks of the Broadway local near the Twenty-eighth Street station around two a.m. this morning. The driver of the R train, Richard J. Hawkins, reported he could not avoid hitting the men who had been running through the uptown tunnel in front of the approaching train.

No charges have been filed against Mr. Hawkins, who was taken to the hospital for chest pains.

The Broadway local line was taken out of service while emergency workers recovered the remains. The tracks were reopened before the morning rush hour without causing any delay to morning commuters.

No evidence of terrorism has been linked to the dead men, but a police spokesperson said they were checking their fingerprints in the FBI database.

Hawkins, a twenty-five-year veteran with the MTA, reported seeing a third man in the tunnels, and he believed a fourth person, possibly a woman, was being chased by the others.

Police are theorizing that the incident was gang-related. The investigation is continuing.

I ripped the article out of the Post Post and threw the rest of the paper on top of the and threw the rest of the paper on top of the Times Times on the next seat. I made a mental note to ask Lieutenant Johnson if the men had been identified or if anyone had claimed their remains. on the next seat. I made a mental note to ask Lieutenant Johnson if the men had been identified or if anyone had claimed their remains.

I learned an important fact: A Vampire hunter remained alive. He was still out there looking for me. And I had the bad feeling that vampire hunters were like c.o.c.kroaches in a city apartment: You never have just one.

A listing for ABC Media, Inc., was back on the building directory in the lobby of the Flatiron Building. Fancy gold lettering still adorned the door to the office on the third floor. When I walked in, so early I had beat everyone else except J to the meeting, I noticed that the Mr. Coffee machine, as usual, sat atop its rickety table in the corner. Having the carafe half-full and some used Styrofoam cups in the metal wastebasket next to the table was a nice touch.

Looking out one of the tall windows, J stood with his back to me. After I entered, pulled out a chair from the table but did not sit, and dropped my backpack on the floor next to a chair, he finally turned and nodded with the smallest of movements. He was a cold man, with a cold manner.

"You telephoned me?" I asked, standing with the table between us.

"I called all the team members," he answered. "Something happened, but I'll wait for the rest to get here to talk about it."

"Right. Since we have a moment before the others get here, can I ask you something?" I wasn't going to ask him about the skullduggery with the office. If n.o.body had spotted my shopping bags, I didn't want him to know I knew. I had something else in mind.

"You can ask." He looked at me with those blue marble eyes of his. His self-control was a well-practiced art. The only sign that he felt anything at all when he spoke to me was the ropy vein throbbing along his right temple.

"Is Darius connected to our current mission in any way?" Even as I said it, it sounded absurd. Darius was back, but it had to do with me, not a missing s.h.i.+p.

"I have no evidence of that. Do you think he does?" J gave me a searching glance.

"Not really. I can't see how he could. I was just wondering..." I said, my voice trailing off.

"Why were you wondering?" J probed.

"Something my mother mentioned. Then you warning me off him. It just put the idea in my head, that's all."

J didn't answer right away. He seemed to be weighing his thoughts. "If I were you, Agent Urban, and I was concerned about Darius della Chiesa, I know what I would do."

"Which would be?" I said, my eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I would speak to your mother again."

At that point the other team members began entering, and I took my place at the table. Cormac and Rogue, dressed alike and ready to star in the latest buddy film, came in together. Benny pushed through the door next. Wearing the same clothes she had been the night before, she apparently hadn't slept today. Where she had spent the sunlit hours I didn't know. The tip of her nose was red. Her eyes were puffy. I guessed she had been crying. I mouthed, What's the matter What's the matter?

She sat down next to me and whispered, "Martin's gone. I couldn't find any trace of him." Her breath caught and her voice trembled. "Help me find him. Please."

I said I would and squeezed her hand.

She lifted worried eyes to mine. "Daphne, I'm afraid something's happened to him."

Audrey was last to arrive. She would have heard me gasp if Cormac's and Rogue's wolf whistles hadn't drowned me out Her thick hair cut short, her tall, thin body showing off a strapless denim minidress, she looked like a runway model. While the makeup was a little much for a spy meeting, her appearance certainly had shock value. When had the ugly duckling turned into a swan?

Noticing us all gaping at her, Audrey ducked her head in a manner that reminded me of Princess Di and said, "I came straight from a fas.h.i.+on show on Seventh Avenue." A shy smile lit up her face. "Elite's representing me."

A vampire as a runway model? Why not? We're everywhere, doing everything from brain surgery to truck driving. We have no restrictions except for avoiding exposure to sunlight, so, sure, none of us will ever win the U.S. Open or Wimbledon. But one of us did win the n.o.bel Prize and the International Poker Tour.

Looking at Audrey's new self-confidence, I felt some satisfaction. I had suggested that she give modeling a try. She hadn't recognized the potential of her angularity, her high cheekbones, her strong features. She had been worried about coming out of her sh.e.l.l. She had protested she'd be bored.

But there she was, doing it.

"That's excellent cover for a spy." J nodded. "Good work. Now, let's get this meeting started. First, can I get your reports? Agent Urban? Why don't you begin..."

"Benny and I spoke to an informant in the New York Police Department. A report of a mysterious collision between an unseen vessel of some type and a support column of the Outerbridge Crossing on Monday morning leads us to believe that the missing s.h.i.+p, still either camouflaged or invisible, turned north and was sailing toward the Goethals Bridge in the Arthur Kill s.h.i.+pping channel."

J looked visibly surprised. "Well done. Anything else?"

I looked at Benny. She shook her head.

"No," I responded. Anything else Anything else? I thought. So much else had happened, but I wasn't willing to discuss either the attack on me or Darius's appearance in my apartment. Chances were neither had anything to do with the Intrepid's Intrepid's disappearance. I had learned long ago never to volunteer information. Answer just the question. Saying too much is a leading cause of getting f.u.c.ked, and not in a pleasurable way. disappearance. I had learned long ago never to volunteer information. Answer just the question. Saying too much is a leading cause of getting f.u.c.ked, and not in a pleasurable way.

Rogue and Cormac took their turn next, with Rogue doing the talking. Cormac sat with papers in his hand, ready to supply any details Rogue forgot, I guess. The two of them had made queries along the waterfront. No one had seen any suspicious activity along the river or in the harbor.