If Angels Burn

The plump young woman had dressed entirely in black for her visit to the cemetery. Heavy silver chains wreathed the sagging waistband of her cheap vinyl pants, and crosses and pentagrams dangled from plastic thongs hanging from her pudgy throat. The heavy white-and-black makeup she wore didn't quite disguise her round, childish face.



Michael took the black knit cap from her head, freeing her short, spiky black hair. "Tell me your name."



The girl gave him a dreamy smile. "Edith. I hate it. I make everyone call me Death."



"You can hypnotize her that fast?" Alexandra asked.



"No. She was already seeking this. I merely extended an invitation. Observe." To the girl, he said, "Edith, why are you here?"



"I come here a lot. I like it. The dead people don't make fun of me." She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "They're lonely, like me."



"After tonight you will not feel alone." He began unbuttoning the high-necked gothic blouse she wore. "Is there any other reason?"



"I wanted to see the roses. They smell so beautiful." Her unfocused gaze wandered to Alexandra. "Are you lonely, too?"



"God." She got to her feet. "I can't watch this."



"You must, Alexandra." He put his hand on Edith's cheek and turned her to face him, then gently closed her eyelids with his fingers. Bloodlust pulsed inside him, harder and heavier because Alexandra was so close, but he remained in complete control. He slid one arm around the girl's waist. "She's young and healthy, so what I do now won't harm her. We never hunt the sick or the elderly. We never take more than they can spare."



"You're such a considerate sucker."



"Please." The girl nestled closer, leaning her head against his shoulder, exposing her throat. "Please."



"I will not harm her, I swear it to you." Michael bent his head and put his mouth to that fair stretch of skin, but he kept his eyes on Alexandra. She stood only a few inches away, tense, her eyes narrowed. "She desires this as much as I do. You have felt the pull of l'attrait, Alexandra. You know the power, the pleasure."



"And the pain." Her hands fisted at her sides. "Go ahead. I won't run away. Just keep your word."



Edith's skin was so delicate that he didn't have to bite hard. The girl gasped and melted against him as blood welled from the two punctures into his mouth.



Still watching Alexandra, he drank.



It was nearly dark when John came back from the police station. A tall, harried-looking man in a white lab coat was waiting in front of the church. When he saw John getting out of the rectory's car, he walked right up to him. "You're Father Keller, right? Alex's brother? Not much of a family resemblance."



"I am." John didn't recognize him, but assumed from the coat and the stethoscope slung around his neck that he was a doctor. "Where is Alexandra?"



"Sorry, I don't know." He gave John a slightly exasperated look. "I'm Dr. Haggerty, Charlie Haggerty. Alex and I have been seeing each other, at least, until she took off this last time. I don't hear a word from her for weeks, and then I get this weird phone call from her office manager yesterday."



"Alex called Grace?"



Dr. Haggerty shook his head. "A friend of hers from Atlanta, Leann Pollock, did. Alex evidently asked her to do some kind of research, but then she dropped off the face of the earth again. Leann's been trying to get hold of her. Grace is working for another doctor now, but she still picks up Alex's messages. She called me all frantic about Alex again."



"What sort of research did Alex need?"



"Grace didn't know." The doctor ran a hand through his bushy hair. "Is that why she closed her practice? Is she moving to Atlanta?"



John thought of how oddly Alex had behaved the night before he left for Rome. "She hasn't told me about her plans."



"Me, either. Look, I love Alex a lot, but she's pretty screwed up, and she won't let me help her. I know she looks up to you; maybe you can talk to her." He handed the note to John. "That's Leann's phone number. If you do find Alex, tell her I'm sorry I'm bailing, but I've got to get on with my life, you know?"



John held out his hand. "Thank you for contacting me."



"No problem." Dr. Haggerty shook his hand. "Alex is a great surgeon, and a terrific lady. This stuff she went through… well, I hope you can do something for her."



John went to the rectory business office and called Leann Pollock. The chemist sounded just as puzzled as Dr. Haggerty.



"Alex called me when she came into town a few days ago. She said she needed a bunch of CDC archive data for this research paper she was writing on fourteenth-century plagues. She also asked me to get a copy of all the inoculations the Peace Corps gave us before we went over to Ethiopia," Leann told him. "I've got it all here. Is she back in Chicago? I called her office, but the lady who answered the phone said her practice was closed."



Alex had closed her practice? Impossible.



"She's actually at a medical conference right now." John grabbed a pencil. "I'll be in town myself, and I'd be glad to pick up the information for Alex. May I have your address?"



Leann gave him the address and directions on how to find her house. "I usually get home from work by six, so stop by anytime after that."



"Thank you, Ms. Pollock. I'll see you tomorrow night." John switched lines and placed a call to the archbishop's office. "I need to speak to the archbishop," he told Cabreri. New purpose made his voice strong and sure. "I'm taking a leave of absence, starting today."



The scent of roses slowly loosened the knot in Alex's stomach. She forced herself to watch Cyprien feed, observing the process, the details, how it worked. How his pupils contracted, the precise place he bit the young woman, and how he formed a seal with his mouth while he drank the blood. He didn't tear into Edith's neck or hurt her; in fact, he held her very carefully. Almost tenderly.



Idiot. Alex didn't think too much of Cyprien's only-too-willing donor. Dressing like Morticia and calling herself Death. She'd walked right into the hands of Death. Death was now sucking the life out of her body, and from the expression on her face, she was loving it.



Alex felt cold and detached. If she'd seen Cyprien do this a couple of weeks ago, she would have wrenched him away from the girl, kicked him unconscious, and screamed for the cops. Now she felt sure he would keep his control, and his promise not to hurt the girl.



Because if he didn't, he was going to lose a kneecap.



I will not harm her.



If Alex was to learn anything about the Kyn, she had to see this. She had to deal with it, to reduce it to simple, clinical terms. It wasn't romantic, of thrilling, or titillating, like in the books and the movies. It was like watching someone drink a milk shake. No, she could watch Cyprien feed on this stupid, stupid woman and learn from it but otherwise feel nothing.



Nothing except this little niggle of outrage over the way he was groping her.



The problem wasn't the biting, or the sucking. Cyprien didn't just bite and suck. He touched Edith's face, her shoulder, her dumb spiky hair. His other long, beautiful hand was stroking up and down the length of her back in a gentle, soothing caress.



The unnecessary touching was seriously getting under Alex's skin. "All right, Prince of Darkness, that's enough."



Cyprien didn't stop immediately, but he lifted his head a few seconds before Alex would have kicked him. Twin trickles of blood ran from the punctures in the side of Edith's neck, to which he pressed a handkerchief.



"You see? No harm." His fangs were still out, so he lisped a little. "She'll be tired tomorrow, and thirsty, but her body will replace what I took in a day."



"The plasma, yeah, but the blood cells take six weeks." Alex came over and pushed the handkerchief aside.



The punctures had stopped bleeding and two dark red clots had formed over the wounds.



"No harm, Alexandra," Cyprien said softly, insistently.



"We'll see about that." She checked the younger woman's pulse, found it strong and steady. "Edith, can you hear me?" A slow, heavy nod. "She's still zoned out from whatever you did." Alex shrugged out of her jacket and wrapped it around the younger woman.



He shrugged. "That is the effect of l'attrait. When we depart, it will disperse and she will be herself again."



Alex put an arm around the girl's lax shoulders. "Oh, no, we are not leaving her like this in a cemetery."



Cyprien made no fuss about driving the girl to the duplex where she lived. He seemed distantly amused by it all. "This is not necessary, Alexandra. She would have come to her senses a few seconds after we left. She is not enraptured with me."



"Neither am I. Stay here." She walked Edith to her door, and searched for the keys in her purse. She had to feel for them, because the porch light was off, and thick dark clouds were starting to block the moonlight. "Edith, you have got to stay out of cemeteries from now on."



"Yes, ma'am."



The obedience of her response made Alex peer into her eyes. "Don't let people call you Death. It's a moronic name. And stop wearing these clothes. They're ugly."



Edith nodded and reached down. She had her black vinyl pants unbuttoned and unzipped before Alex could grab her hands.



"Jesus, don't undress out here."



Edith instantly stopped stripping.



Will she do whatever I tell her to? Alex looked down both sides of the street, and then tested her theory. "Edith, I want you to flap your arms and cluck like a chicken."



Her arms began to flap. "Bock-bock-begock, bock-bocka—"



Blind rage flooded inside Alex, but she managed to tell Edith, "Stop flapping and clucking. Go inside and get some sleep." The wind picked up and sifted through her hair. "Have a nice dream."