Suck It Up and Die (14 page)

She fought back tears. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Clancy echoed in disbelief.

She finally sucked in a full breath. “The last thing I remember was going for a run before sunrise. The next thing I knew I was taped to a bed in the middle of a fire.” A coughing fit interrupted her. “I don’t know how I got here.”

The tech came out of the building. “The camera lenses were all spray-painted. This wasn’t some prank. Whoever did it wanted her dead.”

Hearing that and realizing how close she had come
to dying caught up with Portia. She buried her face in her hands with a sob.

The tech lifted an armful of clothing. “It gets weirder. Whoever it was left these near the bed.”

Morning realized that was what he’d gotten tangled in as he crawled toward the bed. His stomach flip-flopped with the knowledge of who might leave clothing behind: a vampire who had CDed into another creature.

Clancy stared down at Portia. “Young lady, were you sexually assaulted?”

Still hiding her face in her hands, Portia shook her head no.

“How do you know if you can’t remember anything since before sunrise?”

Her head jerked up; she glared at Clancy through teary eyes. “I would know, okay?”

Clancy took Portia and Morning to his office to record their statements about what had happened. Portia was still in her sweats, minus the smoldering jacket Morning had ripped off her back. Morning had discarded his bunker coat and wore his suspendered turnout pants over a T-shirt.

After hearing Portia’s last name, Clancy’s eyes darted between the two of them. “Wait a sec. If I remember what I read in the paper a year ago, you two know each other, and you’re some kind of item.” He said the last word like it was dirty. “Is that right, McCobb? Is she your girlfriend?”

Morning nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Damn.” Clancy scowled. “This is getting more bizarre by the minute.” He pointed at Portia. “And your mother, isn’t she the woman who makes that TV show,
The Shadow
?”

“Yeah,” Portia said, without adding the
So?

He lifted the phone on his desk. “What’s her number?”

“Do we have to call her?” Portia asked.

“You were abducted and almost died,” he said sternly. “I’m sure as hell gonna call your mother.”

“Besides,” Morning added, “she’s gotta be worried sick since you didn’t come back from your run.”

“She’s traveling,” Portia said as she sat up and gave Clancy her poker face. “Look, Captain Clancy, my mother also runs a PR firm. Putting stories in the news is what she does. How do you think the fire academy’s gonna look when everyone knows you almost killed an innocent victim in a training exercise that was supposed to be safe? And it was on your watch,” she added to make herself crystal clear.

It was hard to tell who was more shocked, Clancy or Morning. As Clancy studied Portia, Morning spoke up. “Portia, we can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I know. But in the end no one got hurt. I’m just suggesting that my mom and the public don’t need to know about this until Captain Clancy has completed his investigation.”

“What about my crew?” Morning protested. “They all saw what happened.”

“I’ll handle them, McCobb,” Clancy said. “For now we’ll keep this investigation internal, except, of course, for having the abductor’s clothing scrubbed for DNA by the police.” He turned to Portia. “We’ll also check the security cameras for the when, how, and who of this unfortunate event. You’re lucky to be alive, Ms. Dredful, and I speak for everyone at the academy when I say we appreciate how you’re handling this.” He pulled a business card from a desk drawer and wrote on it. “The fact that your coughing
has abated so quickly is a sign that any smoke-inhalation injury has been very minimal. But if you experience nausea, vomiting, sleepiness, or confusion, don’t hesitate to call the doctor’s number on my card.” He handed the card to Portia. “Whenever we have a damaged set of lungs, he’s our go-to doc. Naturally, the bill’s on the FDNY.” Clancy stood up. “How can I get ahold of you if I have more questions?”

“Morning has my number,” she said.

“All right. McCobb, make sure she gets home safe.” His mouth twitched toward satisfaction. “And my compliments on your tastes, probie. You picked a smart girl.”

Morning and Portia walked out of the administration building. All he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms. But he could feel dozens of eyes watching from the classroom buildings. By now, word had spread and everyone in the academy probably knew about his rescue—his first “carry,” in firefighter lingo. “Walk with me,” he said, resisting the urge to take her hand.

They headed out the front gate and into the sports park next to the academy. Morning didn’t want to talk, and oddly, Portia didn’t fill the silence. He just rejoiced in the brush of her arm against his. Her arm was still there to be brushed. She was still alive. If events had gone down the slightest bit differently, that arm could have been lifeless now. Portia would have been gone.

When they reached a knoll with a bench overlooking the East River, they shared a long hug.

Her smoky sweat suit filled Morning’s nose. Not letting
go, he said, “I never thought you’d be the one who smelled like smoke.”

She gently snapped the suspenders holding up his big, baggy turnout pants. “And I never thought I’d be rescued by someone dressed like a clown.”

He laughed, reassured that she was back to her joking self. They pulled apart and sat on the bench. The silence returned. Something pulled his eyes down to Portia’s crossed leg. Her foot twitched a steady rhythm. It wasn’t a nervous foot shake, it was something he had never noticed. Then he remembered his basic anatomy. It was the involuntary muscle contraction all humans have in their legs to push the venous blood taking the long journey back to the heart. When you cross your legs, the contraction is so strong it gives your foot the slightest waggle.

He reached down and held her foot, not so much wanting to still it as to feel the life coursing through her. The thrum-thrum of her pulse pushed into his fingers and palm.

“Let me guess,” Portia said with a half smile. “You saved my life, so you think you’ve earned the right to be totally honest, and you’re saying, ‘Being a vampire isn’t my problem, it’s this little fetish I have for feet.’ ”

He let go of her foot. “The only fetish I have is a Portia fetish.”

They watched a tugboat pushing a barge up the river.

“Is that really all you remembered?” he asked. “What you told Clancy?”

“For the most part, yeah.”

“ ‘For the most part’?” He ignored her beleaguered look. “Portia, it’s me. You gotta tell me everything you remember. I’m guessing it was a vampire who did this.”

“How do you know?”

“The clothes, your memory loss. He probably thralled you, brought you up here super early, then waited till we started the live fire exercise. As soon as it started, he un-thralled you, then CDed into something and took off.”

“But how would he know there was a live fire exercise? Are there other vampires in the academy?”

“Nobody but me, that I know of. Whoever this vampire was, he did his homework.” Morning realized the vampire had probably done something else—conquered his solar phobia—which he wasn’t going to bring up. The last thing Portia needed was to fear for her life night
and
day.

She tossed a hand in exasperation. “But if he wanted me dead why didn’t he just kill me?”

“I don’t know. But you gotta tell me everything you
do
remember so maybe we can figure out who it is.”

She heaved a breath, which made her cough. Then she slipped into the memory. “I left the house and was doing my warm-up walk to the river for my run. I was walking around a corner shop with lots of windows when I thought I saw my reflection. It was my reflection and it wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“It had my hair, and the face was pretty much mine, but different. The head was higher and looked more like a guy’s. For a second, I felt like I was looking at the brother I never had. It was doubly weird; it was a brother and it was one of those I-know-you-from-somewhere moments. Then I saw his arm begin to raise and that was it.”

“So he did thrall you.”

She pushed a lock of hair from her face. “Why would a vampire want me dead?”

“And why would he set it up so I was going to either save you or be there when you died?”

She stared at the river. “I’m scared, Morning.”

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” he said, but he heard a hollowness in his voice. All he wanted to do was drown his doubts in a kiss. He leaned in.

She accepted his lips. It pulled her into a river of desire, washing away the fear and the smoky smell.

For Morning, as soon as her tongue sought his, he felt an odd sensation, like her tongue carried two small pills and pressed them against his gums. But there was nothing on her tongue. The sensation was coming from him. He pushed her tongue back, not wanting her to feel the swelling twinge in his gums. He knew the first sign of
dentis eruptus
, a sensation he had hoped to never feel again. He eased out of the kiss, hoping she didn’t think it abrupt and hadn’t sensed his budding fangs.

Her eyes opened. Her lips quirked with curiosity. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” he muttered, looking down. His eyes fell on her foot again. It seemed to pulse harder now, like a big heart with toes. “Hmm,” he grunted as he yanked his gaze back to her. “Everything’s super-fine.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

“I’m not going home,” she said as they walked. “I’m late enough for school as it is.”

“If you go to school smelling like a smoke machine they’ll wanna know why.”

“I’ll pick up a new outfit at the thrift store near school and catch a shower in the nurse’s office.” She took his arm and teased, “Is that why you cut our kiss short? I taste like a fireplace?”

“Nooo,” he said, stretching the word out as he fished for a lie. “I didn’t want anyone to see us and think you were”—he snapped his suspenders—“kissing a clown.”

Morning and Portia caught the bus to Manhattan. But not before Morning slipped back into the academy locker room, changed into jeans, and grabbed his cap and sunglasses.

On the bus, he asked her something that had been bugging him about their talk with Clancy. “What’s the real reason you don’t want Penny knowing about this? I doubt you care that much about the academy’s reputation.”

“If Mom knew some vampire wanted me dead she’d think it had to do with the movie Cody and I are making. She’d accuse me of looking under too many rocks, and ship me off to boarding school in Switzerland.”

They got off the bus and started for the subway, but Portia stopped him. “Morn, you don’t have to escort me to school. I’m gonna grab a cab.”

He gestured to her empty hands. “And pay with what?”

“A city girl never leaves home without the three Ps.” She reached in her sweatpants’ hip pocket and pulled out an iPod and her phone. “Pod, phone”—she reached in the other pocket and pulled out a credit card—“plastic.”

It didn’t stop him from worrying. “But what if—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Morning, if the vampire wanted me dead, I’d be dead. I mean, when a vampire tries to kill you and doesn’t finish the job, he’s got something else in mind. Until we figure out what it is, there’s nothing we can do.” She took his hands. “I know it’s weird to say, but this is the second time you’ve saved my life and it’s not a habit I wanna get into. Not the saving part, of course, the damsel-in-distress part.”

He tried to strip the trite from what he wanted to say by tossing it off. “You know me, can’t live without ya.”
She answered with a warm smile, but there was something in her eyes he had noticed lately. They looked older.

“Someday,” she said, “hopefully a long time from now, you’re gonna have to.” She glanced over his shoulder, gave his cheek a kiss, and hailed a cab. “I’ll call and let you know I got to school.” She slipped into the taxi.