Vampire Babylon - Break Of Dawn Part 17

Eva's obvious regret worked, worming its way through the cracks that the little girl inside was fighting to pull open. Remorse seemed to do that in every good silver-screen story. It could redeem even the worst of villains.

And Eva sensed Dawn's openness.

Quick as a subliminal flicker, the vamp whipped into Danger Form, using her misty tentacle-arms to embrace Dawn and bring her daughter inside her body. Cloudy, warm. Here, Dawn forgot about everything but how Eva felt like pillows under her head, about how there was no sound except for an all-encompa.s.sing heartbeat threading through her like a connecting cord.

Time wound into itself, and in an instant-or maybe it was an hour?-she emerged from Eva, the warmth of her mother's body lost as Dawn found herself in the cold reality of a familiar living room. She gathered her wits while sitting on the floor and looking around, dis...o...b..bulated.

In the corner, she found the small-scale Eiffel Tower that had decorated Jac's house, a place Dawn had visited back when she thought they could be friends. The drawn curtains provided shade, the walls were a muted cream, the furniture a warm wood hue, like notes from a Chet Baker song. Jazz. Something Eva obviously liked, a fact her own daughter had never known.

Her mother was standing behind a couch, respecting Dawn with distance. "Something to drink?" Eva smiled, clearly knowing the answer.

When Dawn didn't say anything, the vamp left anyway, heading for the kitchen.

In the meantime, Dawn realized a few things. First, Matt hadn't even had time to interfere with Eva's taking of Dawn. Second, the back of her neck kind of smarted, maybe from the mini car smashup. She also saw that she was still holding her machetes and, d.a.m.n it, she hadn't even thought to use them when she'd been inside Eva. Dropping one blade, she rubbed her neck, thinking the ache might hurt a lot more if Eva hadn't lessened the impact of the crashing car, as Dawn suspected.

Then she started to get off the floor, her hand going to the base of her spine at a slight twinge there, too. Once, during a stunt, Dawn had almost broken her back, so she was always hyperaware of any activity there.

But as she gave herself a diagnostic prod, her fingers brushed against something hard on her jeans. Was it a b.u.t.ton that she'd never realized was there? She felt a little more. Smooth, metallic . . .

Uninvited, the memory of Costin skimming his fingers against the small of her back intruded.

She tore at the b.u.t.ton-object, ripping off part of the weak belt loop it was attached to in the process. Discarding her other machete, she used both hands to wrench at the rest of the denim, hearing the loop pop off of her old jeans. And, there, sucked against the material, was a tiny locator.

Her mind seemed to slant inside her head, like a boat's deck in freak weather. Costin had marked her, then kicked her out of the house. The Limpets had to be tracking her.

Rational thought imploded under the pressure of her temper. Son of a b.i.t.c.h.

Dawn flung the device to the ground, then dug her boot heel into it, crushing the locator into the delicate rug, making it part of the intricately flowered design.f.u.c.k Costin. f.u.c.k them all.

When Eva came back, water bottle in hand, Dawn quickly picked up the locator's remnants, then shoved the tiny wires and casing into a back pocket.

Dead. They were all dead to her. Just as dead as she felt.

Eva gave her daughter the unopened bottle, probably knowing Dawn wouldn't drink from it unless she could be sure there'd been no tampering. The vamp was catching on.

"I left in such a hurry that the fridge is still full." Eva sat on one end of a modern-chic couch, spreading her skirts around her. She wasn't drinking any water. Duh.

"Sit, please," her mother said.

"Nope. I'm comfortable like this." Standing. Waiting.

"Suit yourself."

Dawn opened the water bottle and took a swig. Relief. "How long will this joke of a peace negotiation take?"

"Do you have better things to do?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah. I thought I should probably kill you before all your vamp buddies crawl out of bed and come to your rescue."

Eva froze. "And here I thought you might take advantage of having me at your disposal."

A sidelong glance seemed the proper response. "Come again?"

"I want you to fire away with questions. Go ahead."

Blink, blink. Honesty. Dawn hardly recognized it.

"But . . ." Eva sighed. "Since you're going to kill me . . ."

Dawn bristled, because they both knew d.a.m.ned well that Eva could kick her daughter to the curb if it came down to it. Sure, Dawn would put up a grand fight, but Eva was superior.

"b.u.mmer," her mother said, looking so strangely young, "because we never did have any mom-to-daughter chats. Except when you were this big, of course."

She'd cradled her hands and indicated a bundle-sized baby shape. The smile she wore couldn't have been faked. Dawn latched one hand on her opposite arm, half shielding herself.

"During that one month," Eva added, "I talked to you about a lot of things. I told you about when I was a girl. I gave you tips about how to wrap your dad around your teeny finger."

Her mother bit her lip, and even Dawn fell under her maudlin spell a little. Only a little.

"What were you like . . . as a girl?" She really wanted to know. "And no bulls.h.i.t stories, Eva. It'd be nice to hear nonfiction for once."

"It'd be nice to live it, too." She gazed at a curtain-covered window, brown eyes going soft. "I was an only daughter, just like you, but instead of being born in California, I made my grand debut in Milwaukee, crying like a little princess. That's what your grandma said."

Dawn didn't know anyone on Eva's side of the family. Frank had kept her from them, except for one Christmas. Two people who'd wanted her to call them Grandma and Grandpa had joined Frank, Dawn, and her paternal grandparents. The strangers had given a really young Dawn-was she about five?-a tricycle. After they'd left, their eyes teary, Frank had taken the toy away from Dawn and she'd never seen it again. She knew they'd pa.s.sed away years ago because, once, she'd come across some papers in Frank's house that said as much.

"When did you move out here?" Dawn asked, gripping her arm harder, like part of her wanted to shut herself up.

"When I was eighteen. Remember when I . . . Jacqueline Ashley . . . told you that she won a modeling contest and that it was her golden ticket into Hollywood? Well, that's actually what happened to me." She sent a longing glance to Dawn. "I'm really a lot like Jac."

Dawn pinched her arm. "I thought Jac was human, not a marrow-sucking backstabber. Big difference."

Eva smoothed her dress. It seemed to be a habit when she was gathering herself. "Whatever you think, I really was pretty innocent when everything started out. I never got used to going to parties and being visually prodded like meat at auditions. But when I snuck into a theater that was playing my first movie . . ." Eva held a hand over her heart. "Magic."

The rest was history. Eva's rise had been meteoric. She'd possessed the type of face that defined the fantasies of a generation: an innocence lost, yet still available in the persona of one Eva Claremont, sunny dream girl.

"Still," Eva added, "that moment was nothing compared to when I had you."

As a tear slipped down her mother's face, Dawn shook her head.

"I call bulls.h.i.t. If you gave so much of a d.a.m.n, you wouldn't have given me up for your extended career. You wouldn't have given me up for anything."

"I know it'll never make sense."

"You've got that right." Dawn's temper goaded her to stalk toward the front of the old-time-movie gingerbread house.

But just as she was about to exit the room, she turned back around, finding Eva on her knees on the couch and holding the back frame, her face a riot of devastation.

Slayed by her mother's quiet show, Dawn stopped in her tracks. Then she gestured toward the living room. "Forgot my machetes."

"Dawn, I never had the opportunity to explain why I gave you up when you were only a month old. I've already told you that I was young and stupid . . . and so impressionable. My handlers were persuasive. It all made such sense when they pitched the idea of going Underground."

Dawn couldn't believe it. Sense? How could being a vampire make sense?

Eva continued. "They said that the faster I went Underground, the easier it'd be to leave you-I wouldn't be so attached after only one month. But they were wrong. So wrong."

"Now's a great time to have a lucid moment."

Eva lowered her voice. "I thought everything would be perfect after my comeback. I thought my time away would make having you accept me easier, not harder."

"How could you possibly believe that?"

"I thought things would turn out differently. I was depending on my comeback to . . ." "Redeem you?"

The vamp lifted a finger. "Listen. Men in Hollywood can deal with age a lot easier, but roles for older women? Good luck. Going out when I was young seemed to guarantee that I could continue succeeding when I made my comeback . . . again and again. It ensured that you'd always be taken care of."

Youth, beauty-both were at a premium in this town. And, clearly, Dawn and Frank had been easy enough to trade in, no matter how many justifications Eva had for doing it.

Neither of them said anything, because it was just too obvious that talking wouldn't make up for what had already happened, every hideous thing.

Out of defensive att.i.tude, Dawn stuck her hands in her back pockets. Her fingers jammed against the guts of the locator.

Nowhere to turn. Nowhere to go now . . .

Eva sank farther down on the couch. "I suppose that does it for the touchy-feely talk."

For a second, her mother looked so real, like a young girl who'd been disappointed by what affected most girls her age in life.

Dawn wondered how much of that disappointment was really a part of Eva.

"I have to tell you," Dawn said, leaning her back against a wall, a position that relieved some of the tension, "that what you did with Bre-"

Forcefully, Eva pressed her finger to her lips. Dawn didn't say another word.

While her mother rose from the couch, she gave a meaningful look. What it meant exactly? Dawn wasn't sure.

The vamp went to a table, opened up a slim top drawer, then extracted paper and a pen. After writing something down, she came over and gave the items to Dawn. Then she lingered, seeming to block the paper, as if the two of them were secretly trading "Best Friends Forever" notes and hiding the contents from the rest of the cla.s.s.

The paper said: There may be bugs here-they'll know if I disable them, especially after what happened that night. I could be in trouble.

All right. Why had Eva brought Dawn to her home if there could be eavesdroppers? Had she been instructed by the Underground to initiate some kind of mind game here? Or did her mother want to talk privately, but she couldn't, hence the notes?

Playing along for now, Dawn went to the couch's back, using it as a shield, then sunk to the floor in order to write. She made sure she didn't leave the paper in clear view. While she penned her message, she fake chatted, just as a distraction for anyone who might be tuned in. "I know how special the Underground is to you."

But she wrote this: They don't know what happened?

After seeing that, Eva answered out loud. "Right." Then she launched into some more covering chatter while Dawn continued writing.

What you did with Breisi = deal breaker.

While her mother wrote a response, Dawn continued jawing. Underground bad, not worth abandoning your family for, yada yada yada.

Eva's answer was this: It would be a deal breaker for me, too. Ignore all attempts at sympathy. Ignore. Dawn took a deep breath, then let pen loose to paper. Afterward, Eva took the note and Dawn did the talking thing, wondering how Eva would react to what she'd written: I really did think you were going to help me and Frank rescue Breisi. You almost had me on your side. I might have followed through with that promise you made me take about giving you another chance if you'd just helped us save B. Did you plan to sabotage B's rescue from the get-go, even when I promised that I would give you a chance to be my mom again?

Eva scribbled furiously. B was coming between us-all of us-She stopped and exhaled.

She did feel something like guilt. Dawn actually believed that.

Something switched on inside her mind, even in the midst of her beaten weariness. The detective in her wouldn't back off.

Dawn took the note and turned it over to a clean side while Eva chatted inanely and went for more paper.

So the Master doesn't know what you did that night? Dawn wrote. Because you're still with the "community."

Eva's turn. Right-he doesn't know. After I brought you and Frank to where B was being held, I left. But then I came back.

Too much to lose. I used what you call a "mind screw" to block video transmission into the Underground. So no one saw me interfering with plans to have Ca.s.sie kill B.

Dawn wanted to ask why Eva had bothered. Her master might have been real proud of Eva's decision to let Ca.s.sie finally murder Breisi. But Dawn was getting good info here. Why blow it by ticking her mother off?

When the paper was full, Eva went to the kitchen. The sound of running water ssssed, and she returned minutes later. Dawn thought she might have destroyed the messages in her sink by wetting the paper: blurring the words and turning it into an unreadable lump.

"I'm planning to be around my family for years and years," Eva said out loud, transitioning back into the spoken conversation they'd been using as a distraction. "We'll be frozen in the happiest time of our lives. That's all the explanation you need about why I want you Below, Dawn."

"Still doesn't convince me." This was odd. Eva had seamlessly gone from betrayer of the Underground to proponent of it. Did she believe in both views? Was it possible that her mother had only as much use for the Underground as it related to her?

"You're forgetting the part where I get fangs and drink blood," Dawn said. "I'm not so keen on that."

The vamp got an understanding look on her face. "That's all incidental. What matters is the way you feel when you become . . . us.

Don't deny you're attracted to beauty."

Right-like Dawn hadn't been on an antibeauty crusade her whole life. She'd either worn too little makeup or too much, depending on who she wanted to p.i.s.s off that day. She'd rebelled against any a.s.sociation with Eva, becoming a stunt double and embracing the habits of a tomboy.

Yet . . . Eva was on to something, wasn't she? As much as Dawn deplored the superficial, she was drawn to it, wondering what it'd be like to be adored. . . .

"Jonah Limpet," Eva said, "wouldn't ever give you the chance to feel this good. In fact, I suspect he makes you feel the opposite."

Every muscle in Dawn's body clenched. "Don't. Ever. Say that name to me. Again."

Her throat felt stripped from the force of her words, and Eva looked just as flayed, too.

"Okay, I understand," her mother said softly.

"No, you don't." It was a conversation capper and, after an awkward moment, Dawn started for her machetes.

"Looks like it's time to kill me again," Eva said.

"Oh, stop being such a smug pill, would you? If you want me to continue any 'peace talks,' maybe you'll rea.s.sure me that Frank is okay so I can at least murder you with that in mind."