Cloud City (Anna Strong Vampire Chronicles) (5 page)

Jonathan’s fury radiates outward, a rabid, raging storm that he is using to cause Sophie physical pain. I’m frozen in shock. I didn’t know he was capable of such a thing.

Sophie has fallen back on the bed, drawn her body into a fetal position. She is moaning, a terrible keening sound that sets my teeth on edge. It rouses me to action. I start for her, sending a message to Jonathan, yelling at him to stop.

Suddenly, the tone and timbre of Sophie’s cries change.

She sits up, eyes flashing, the guttural sounds from her throat morphing into a language I don’t understand. Her words spew forth like a geyser, as if by the sheer force of their intensity they are unleashing an internal defense against Jonathan’s attack. She is no longer in pain. She is wresting control from Jonathan.

She is casting a spell. I feel Jonathan’s presence slip away as she continues the incantation. Her eyes are closed, her hands clasped in supplication. I don’t recognize her. An aura of magic, dark and ominous, surrounds her. Her face is a mask of grim determination, all vestiges of softness and compassion gone. The Sophie who saved my friends and was willing to sacrifice her life to right a wrong committed by her sister is swallowed up by this other. Watching her, dread chills my bones. At this moment, she reminds me of Belinda, the black magic witch who stopped at nothing to get her way.  

A shiver of repulsion makes me move away from the creature on the bed. Even vampire is reluctant to interfere. We can only watch and wait and hope reason returns to Sophie before it is too late.

I remember what Jonathan said. If he dies, Sophie does, too. Is she aware that her own fate is tied to his? And what if Jonathan is wrong? What if she can rid herself of him and continue on as before? Would she revert to her real age? Would she care? The frustration I felt in her makes me believe that life or death may make no difference to her. Her only goal is to be free.

Finally, the chanting stops. Sophie’s body relaxes as she slumps back against the pillows. The sphere of sinister light that surrounded her is gone. Her eyes remain closed, but her face softens. A small smile touches the corners of her mouth.

“Sophie?”

Her eyes open, her expression is at once surprised to see that I’m still in the room and pleased that I am. “I did it,” she says. “How long?”

At first I’m confused by the question, but then a flash of understanding. “Five minutes. Maybe less.”

The smile widens. “I’m getting better. The first time it took almost twenty minutes and I was exhausted after.” She stretches, languid as a cat. “I feel fine.”

“Jonathan?”

“He’s where he can’t hurt me. I think he may be gone longer, too. The magic felt more potent. It was wonderful.”

I don’t know how to respond. “Is he aware?” I ask.

A shrug of indifference. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“How did you learn to do that without Jonathan knowing?”

She smiles again, this time a smile of conspiratorial slyness. “When we were writing the book. He’d delve into his memories, lost in his own world, leaving me free to do some research of my own.”

“Research?”

“I was a practicing witch, remember, as was my mother and grandmother before me. I have texts and journals from before the Salem witch trials, hidden by my family down through the ages.”

“Were some of them Belinda’s?”

A furtive glance as elusive as her ambiguous answer, “Maybe.”

I push aside the dark foreboding creeping into my head like an icy fog and concentrate on the more immediate problem: Prendergast. Jonathan will have to wait it out in his isolation cell.

“What do we do about Prendergast?”

That elicits a real smile. “Easy,” she says. “We tell him the truth. The real story now that we know it. And I turn all of Jonathan’s holdings over to him.”

CHAPTER NINE

At first I think she’s joking. But that’s not a “gotcha” smile, but a triumphant one.

“You can’t do that.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Of course I can. Jonathan made me his heir. I figure this solves all our problems. Prendergast will go away satisfied and I will go back to living the way I did before Jonathan took over.”

“You don’t think Jonathan will have something to say about giving his fortune to this stranger?”

“Jonathan won’t have anything to say. Now that I know how to silence him temporarily, it’s only a matter of time before I learn how to do it permanently.”

“Think this through, Sophie. What if banishing Jonathan banishes you as well?”

“Then I will still have accomplished my goal. I’ll be free.”

The unconcerned way she says it makes me think there’s more to her plan than she’s willing to share. The cagey look in her eyes, though, says grilling her about it is useless.

“What do we do now?”

“I think Prendergast should learn about his grandmother where it all happened. Do you know The Matchless is in the same building where Leticia had her brothel? She had the whole building then, of course, but the dining room was actually the saloon.”

It doesn’t hit me until I hear Sophie talking about The Matchless. Then a light goes on and I stare at her in disbelief. “You knew the truth about Jonathan’s story?”

The look she shoots me is full of contempt. “Jonathan thinks I can’t read his thoughts or shield mine from him. I learned early on how to do it.”

“Then why did you go along with the book idea?”

She waves a hand. “Because this has got to stop. I can’t live like this anymore.” She draws a breath. “The idea didn’t come to me until I met the editor and learned who he was. Until then, I thought if I placated Jonathan, maybe he’d leave me in peace. I’d help him publish his damned book and make a deal with him. I’d give him the book tour and travel he craved and in return, he’d promise to remove himself from my life for the same number of months.”

“It changed when you met Prendergast.”

Excitement lights her face. “It got better. I wasn’t crazy about his shooting at me. But the rest…I couldn’t have dreamed up a more perfect plan. If all goes well, tonight will be the end of it.”

“Tonight?”

“It’s all arranged. I did it before you arrived this morning. After Jonathan finished threatening me with all sorts of dire consequences should I try to get rid of him again.” A triumphant gleam brightens her eyes. “He tired himself out, I guess, because he left me alone. That’s when I did it. Called the manager over at The Matchless. We’re taking over the place at eleven tonight. For a private party. Then I called Prendergast. He sounded nervous.” She laughs, nodding in my direction. “Now I know why. Anyway, he agreed to come, too.”

“And what about Jonathan? Will he be there?”

“If he behaves himself.”

I should have given Sophie more credit. Jonathan should have given her more space. I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight but vampire will be on the alert.

Whatever Sophie’s grand plan, she’s made her feeling about vampires crystal clear.

I don’t intend to become a sacrificial lamb.

#  #  #  #

There isn’t a lot to do in Leadville. The day drags with leaden boots. The hotel does have a library, though, so I ensconce myself on a big, upholstered chair by a window and do a little research of my own.

Leadville’s history is reminiscent of so many boom and bust towns in the west. Originally called Cloud City (fitting considering the elevation,) first gold, then silver were mined until economies change and the silver bust of 1893 sent miners scrambling for greener pastures. But the town lived on, becoming known as a tourist destination because of quaint celebrations like Burro Days and earlier, the spectacular Ice Palace once the jewel of the ongoing Crystal Carnival.

I also learned who Horace and Baby Doe Tabor were and their sad but romantic ties to Leadville.

I scoured the books for pictures, particularly pictures taken around the time Leticia opened her brothel. I paged through two books before I found one.

A daguerreotype, yellow and brittle with age, taken from a museum collection. There were three girls in the picture, but only Leticia is named. The three are dressed in frilly white gowns, looking as virginal and innocent as the snow capped peaks behind them. I can’t help but wonder if the photographer brought the gowns with him, romanticizing a life that was anything but. 

The caption names Leticia as owner of the building, mentioning the saloon but little else. When I study her face, I can see why Jonathan would have been attracted to the petite, blonde with an hourglass figure and long curls. She had a hat on with a floppy brim and she was twirling a parasol and grinning right at the camera. Evidently the old form of photography captured vampire images just as digital cameras do now.

I wonder if she’s still alive.

I wonder what Jonathan would feel if he saw this picture.

I wonder if Jonathan will be around much longer to feel anything at all.

CHAPTER TEN

Sophie calls at ten forty-five to ask if I want to walk with her to The Matchless. There’s a moment where I have to question why she wants me with her tonight. If I have a part to play in Sophie’s scheme, she hasn’t made that clear. The only good reason for me to go along is a nagging worry that whatever she has planned, it might backfire. She might be a powerful witch, but she can be stopped by a bullet. Prendergast has tried it before. He might decide if he can’t take his vengeance out on a vampire, she’ll do just as well. Particularly since he doesn’t know what she intends to propose.

The bar is emptying as we approach. There’s a lot of grumbling from disgruntled locals being evicted from a favorite drinking spot. Evidently it doesn’t happen often.

“How much did you pay to get this place to yourself?” I ask Sophie.

“A lot,” she replies. “But it’s Jonathan’s money so who cares? It may be the last of it I ever spend.”

She’s much too enthused by the prospect. “Is he with us?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet. But he will be when the time is right.”

“Which means?”

“You’ll see.”

The last of the patrons files by. The bartender has been holding the door and when he sees us, he gestures for us to enter.  

“All yours,” he says. He holds up a key. “Just lock up when you’re finished. The kitchen is off limits, but help yourself to anything in the bar.”

Sophie exchanges the key in his hand for a check that she’s pulled from a big leather purse. I just get a glimpse, but there are a lot of zeroes scrawled above Sophie’s signature. “What shall I do with the key when we’re done?” she asks.

“Leave it at the front desk in your hotel. I’ll pick it up in the morning.”

He is on his way out when Prendergast is on his way in. He blocks the door, looking over his shoulder at Sophie with a questioning quirk of bushy eyebrows. She nods and he waves Prendergast in.

“Best lock up after me and shut off the lights,” is his parting shot. “Or folks will be pounding on the door all night.”

Sophie crosses the room and turns the deadbolt with a snap. She also reaches over and shuts off the neon “Open” sign and the bank of lights illuminating the front of the bar. The room plunges into semi-darkness, the only light filtering from the dining area behind us.

Prendergast hasn’t taken his eyes off me since coming in. He stands as far away from me as he can, too, his back pressed against the end of the bar.

“Why is she here?” he asks. “You didn’t tell me she’d be here.”

But Sophie is busy pulling things out of a big canvas tote she brought from the hotel. Black candles. Crystals. Herbs tied in bundles. A vial of clear liquid. Chalk.

The skin on the back of my neck begins to prickle. She’s preparing to cast a spell.

“Sophie, what are you doing?”

She ignores me the way she did Prendergast. She clears a space in the middle of the room by pushing chairs out of the way. Chalk in hand, she gets down on her knees, begins to draw a pentagram.

“What is she doing?”

Now Prendergast is talking to me, though he still keeps his distance.

I don’t
know
what she’s doing exactly but I can guess. I’ve seen her prepare before. But it’s nothing I can share without causing him panic so I turn my back on him to join Sophie on the floor. I stop her hand with my own, forcing her to look up at me.

“What is this?”

She glances toward Prendergast. “I’m going to give Steven what he wants. The answers to all his questions.”

“We can tell him what he needs to know,” I remind her. “We know the story now.”

She turns fierce blue eyes on me. “Oh, but this will be so much better. He’s going to hear it from his great-grandmother herself. And then
she’s
going to hear what misery Jonathan has inflicted on me. It should be quite a show.”

“How will you bring her here? Is she dead?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve perfected a summoning charm. Whether we pull her from the afterlife or next door, she’ll appear in corporeal form.”

“What about Jonathan? How does he figure in this?”

Her lips curl into a sneer. “Oh, he’s the star attraction. He’s my special gift to Leticia.”

“Gift?”

Excitement burns through her eyes. “I’m going to make sure she takes Jonathan with her when she goes. I just hope it’s straight to hell.”