The Becoming

Chapter Thirteen

Maybe I shouldn't have asked him to be so direct. A laugh bubbles up. “You're kidding, right?"

Does it feel like I'm kidding?

The urge to laugh dissipates like air from a popped balloon. No. It doesn't. But it also doesn't make sense. Two minutes ago you told me I wasn't like Donaldson. Now you're telling me to find him and kill him.

He pauses, a heartbeat, then, “Have you watched any television tonight? Heard any news on the radio?"

I shake my head.

Avery's eyes are grim as his frown deepens. He places his elbows on the desk and leans towards me. Donaldson has killed again.

Two more victims were found near the border. He's getting more daring and more careless. Chief Williams has managed to keep most of the details from the press, but it won't be long before someone leaks the fact that there's a killer out there draining his victim's blood.

I'm on my feet, pacing in front of the desk. But the police are looking for Donaldson. They'll find him and bring him in.

It's not our way.

What?

We have to take care of our own, Anna. We can't risk his bringing attention to our community. Remember, I told you there are people out there who seek to destroy us. Donaldson's actions are just what these people look for. Even with Chief Williams's influence, these killings will not go unnoticed.

And my tracking him down and killing him will be?

If you're careful.

Suspicion replaces surprise in the back of my mind, especially since Avery is carefully guarding his thoughts. I let the doubt seep into my voice. “Is this a set up?"

He looks puzzled. “A set up? What do you mean?"

I wave a hand at the door. “I mean I wasn't invited to join your little flock. Maybe sending me after Donaldson is a way to get rid of me."

"If I wanted to get rid of you, Anna, I could have killed you in the hospital. You had lost a lot of blood. I could have easily drained you of the rest, and no one would have been the wiser."

The abruptness of his reply gives it a ring of truth, his thoughts confirm it.

"Then why choose me to do this? Surely there are others better qualified."

He looks at me as if I've asked a very stupid question. “Weren't you tracking Donaldson down when he attacked you? Isn't this what you do for a living?"

It's my turn to stare at him. “With a big difference. When I was tracking Donaldson, it was with the intention of turning him over to the authorities. I am willing to do that again, but I won't kill him."

Now, in spite of what he's just asked me to do, his thoughts reflect skepticism about my ability to bring Donaldson in.

I feel warmth flood my face, knowing that he's remembering how easily he overpowered me just moments before.

I will be ready this time.

He raises an eyebrow. And Donaldson will be ready for you.

How will Donaldson know?

Avery's green eyes narrow. You and he have a connection. He will be able to feel your presence long before he will be able to see you. You will be able to hide your thoughts from him, but he will sense you nonetheless. You can use that to your advantage, but it can be dangerous, too.

How so? I ask

The drawback is that he will know that there is someone close that he has turned. If you are careful to keep your thoughts from him, he will not know who it is. So far, we have been successful in keeping your name out of both police and press reports. He knows he was interrupted with you, but at the rate he's killing, he may not notice that you have been omitted from his list of victims.

And the advantages? I prompt.

You will be able to sense him, too. You will know where he has been. If you hone in on his thoughts, you will know where he is going. You can set a trap—

There is a discreet knock at the door. Avery pushes himself away from the desk and crosses the room. He opens the door just wide enough to allow him to greet his visitor without revealing my presence.

It's Police Chief Williams. His thoughts are troubled. They've found another body. I must go.

I watch Avery reach out a hand. We'll take care of this. Be assured.

Williams sighs. We'd better. We haven't had trouble like this in a long time. I like it here, Avery. I don't want to be forced to move because of this renegade. He must be dealt with.

Avery moves out of the room for a moment, pulling the door shut behind him. Then he reappears and, once more, closes the door.

I assume the maneuver was to prevent me from hearing his parting shot to the Police Chief. It doesn't matter. I've already made up my mind.

I get to my feet. “I'm leaving, too, Avery."

He tries to probe my mind. When he doesn't succeed, he frowns, eyes hard. You are choosing not to help?

"I am choosing to protect myself. You have a nice little support group here of many of San Diego's most prominent citizens. The way I see it, inviting me tonight was a way to dangle the carrot. I can become a part of this exclusive club if I perform one little task for you. The trouble is, as the newest member, I am also the most expendable. If I kill Donaldson, so much the better. If Donaldson kills me, I don't upset the balance of power. You can probably find another newly minted vampire to take my place. You say this isn't a set up. Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

Avery has grown very still. He listens intently, brows furrowed, allowing nothing of what he's feeling to come through.

It confirms that my read on the situation is correct. I move to meet him at the door and he finally opens his thoughts.

I can't force you to do this, Anna.

His tone is soft, almost seductive.

I know. That's why I'm leaving.

I won't stop you.

Avery steps back from the door . My home is forever open to you. As time goes on, you will have questions. I am, and always will be, at your service.

He sounds so formal, like he's reciting an official vampire ceremonial closing speech.

He smiles at my interpretation. Well, after three hundred years, we'll see how dated you sound.

That was far too easy.

I've got the top down on the Jag and I'm cruising west on Ardath toward home. Avery didn't try to talk me into his plan or out of leaving.

Neither of which makes sense.

But it's one in the morning, the night is cloudless and the road is deserted. I want to shake off the feeling of Avery and his band of merry vampires, so I give the Jag its head. There's nothing like the acceleration of an 8 cylinder, 390 hp supercharged engine to clear away the cobwebs.

I should know better.

The cop picks me up at the intersection of Torrey Pines and Ardath. I see him the same time he sees me, and I know that little radar gun he's pointed at me has already registered the fact that I'm speeding by at 120 mph. There's no sense in reaching for the emergency brake to try to throw him off, I simply take my foot off the gas and let the black and white catch up.

He does, lights flashing. I pull over and wait for him to come to me. I've worked with cops long enough to know you don't jump out of your car or start rummaging in your purse for your license. It makes them testy. So I sit quietly, both hands on the steering wheel like a good little girl, and watch in the rearview mirror as he approaches. He's big, thick-bodied, like a wrestler, with his cap pulled down low over his face.

He shines a flashlight in my eyes. “Good morning, Miss. Do you know why I stopped you?"

On reflex, I put up a hand to shield my eyes. “I was speeding."

He doesn't lower the flashlight. “Please put your hands back on the steering wheel."

"Please lower the flashlight. It's hurting my eyes."

He doesn't drop the light, but instead shoves it closer to my face. The glare causes sharp pinpricks of pain at the back of my eyes.

Is this another vampire peculiarity? I can go out in sunlight, but the strobe of a flashlight is intolerable?

I hear, rather than see, my car door being opened. The cop's voice is hard and brittle at my ear. “Please step out of the car,” he says.

I do, stumbling a little. It's as if the light is affecting my equilibrium as well as my sight.

"Have you been drinking, Miss?"

God. I assume he means alcohol. How much wine did I drink? I remember one glass. It's probably not wise to share that though.

“No, officer. I haven't been drinking. It's that light in my eyes that's causing the problem. Is it really necessary to blind me?"

He must take umbrage at my tone, because before I can say anything else, his hands dig into my shoulders and he's turning me so that I'm facing my car. He jerks my hands together behind my back.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you in,” he says, snapping cuffs on my wrists.

It happens so fast that I don't have time to react. “You're arresting me?” I squeak, outrage notching my voice up an octave. “For what?"

I still haven't seen his face. I try to turn but he doesn't let me.

"Driving under the influence, Miss,” he says, shoving me toward his car.

I dig my heels in. “Wait a minute. Don't you have to give me a sobriety test or something? I tell you, I'm not drunk."

But even if I were, the muzzle of the gun pressed into the small of my back would have sobered me up fast enough. “What are you doing?"

"Get into the car, bitch,” he says, his voice full of venom. “Or I'll stake you right here."