The Beat

The Beat

Chapter 2

It wasn't the cold that made my eyes frost over when I woke up. I forgot where I was. No light seeped into the narrow-coffin-like box I had apparently slept in. I moved my hands against the lid feeling for a release latch and found none. Even if I was locked in here, I should be able to force my way out. Before I could move, I heard footsteps coming toward me. I tensed, motionless but ready to spring, ready to kill if that's what it would take to be free.

"Mick? It's Sam. I'm going to open the freezer now. Okay?"

Everything flooded back. "Okay!" I shouted. The lid opened and Sam was smiling down at me. I sat up and looked around. We were in Sam's bedroom. He didn't seem surprised to note that I was naked. I'd probably undressed in front of him. Why couldn't I remember? Vampires don't get drunk or high on whiskey or drugs, but last night still seemed pretty much of a blur. Maybe it was Sam's acceptance and the music. Oh yeah – there was that other thing. Sam could read my mind. That was scary.

"My clothes are a little short for you," Sam said. "Didn't you bring any luggage when you came to New York?" he asked.

"Of course I did. My overnight bag is at the Ramada by the airport. I still have to check out and get my stuff. We'll need to swing over there before we head north." I had brought two changes of clothing, underwear and socks. I hadn't brought any blood. The FAA has rules about liquids, and they're especially scrupulous about planes headed for New York City. I hoped to stock up if it became necessary and I knew of a place. I hoped it was still in business because if it wasn't, I had to hope Sam really was a good a good shot with his bow and arrow, or rifle or whatever he used.

I got up and pulled on my jeans from yesterday. That's when I noticed the bandage on Sam's arm. I sniffed. "You cut yourself." As if he didn't know it. "You've got to be kidding me."

Sam walked to the dresser, and then returned to me extending a glass half filled with blood. "What kind of host doesn't offer his guest breakfast?" he asked, all innocent, as though this was a normal situation.

"Damn it, Sam. I could have managed," I said, but I reached for the glass. I'd have to ask him where he learned all this stuff, and by where, I meant from whom. "I won't have you doing this twice a day for me. It's not healthy. You'll pass out and I don't know the way." He gave me a small smile, but this was too serious for jokes. I had to make sure he understood. "If I'm going to make this trip in any kind of comfort, and without worrying about you passing out, we'll need to make another stop for me to pick up supplies. You do have a cooler, don't you?"

"Sure. I have two."

"Bring both of them with Freeze Paks." While he prepared for our trip, I found out he really did own the apartment. It was a gift from his other friend, he said. He fixed himself a few sandwiches – peanut butter and banana, and baloney, then topped off his cooler with cans of apple juice and chips. I finally asked the question that had been bugging me since last night. "Who is your other vampire friend?" I wondered if it was anyone I knew.

"His name is Francis. He's a diplomatic attaché to the UN from Romania. When he's in New York, he stays with me. Except for you, he's the only vampire I know. He won't talk much about himself, except that he explained his requirements. I see him a couple of times a year." I could understand Francis' attraction to Sam. I felt it too.

Sam went on. "He came down to the Vanguard one night last year to listen to the jazz and we hooked up. He's a good guy, interesting, but I couldn't listen to his thoughts. He thinks in Rumanian." He grinned. "I think he's pretty old though. It's just a feeling I got from him, an impression. I read feelings too."

I nodded to tell him I was following. I'm able to do that myself with my increased senses. I can tell when someone is lying or scared, but that's not much compared to what Sam can do. "It's weird that a human is able to do that, but not unheard of," I said. "Am I easier to read than most?"

"With you, it's like your thoughts are spoken out loud, like you want me to hear you. It must have been the beat of my drum that brought us together."

That brought me up short. "Explain."

"Last night I sang an old shamanic calling chant. The drumbeat is part of the chant. It's kind of like a spell. I don't know how to say it another way, but it puts out a call to help me find someone who needs me or someone I need. Maybe both."

"Why were you looking for someone who needed you, last night?"

"That's my other quirk," Sam said. "I dream. They need me at home, and I was supposed to come with someone. I didn't see who it was in the dream, but I wasn't just checking to see how much of a crowd was left last night. I was looking to see if someone had responded to my music, and you were there, waiting for me."

"Oh," I said.

He took a look around, closed the drapes, picked up his cooler and slung his backpack over his shoulder. I took the empty cooler. With any luck it would soon be filled. I followed him out to his car in the apartment's parking facility. It was a sky-blue Mazda, a fairly recent model. "Good mileage," he said although I hadn't asked. Well, maybe I had. This quiet communication with Sam took some getting used to.

We fastened our seatbelts. "Where to?" Sam asked.

I directed him to a vampire club I visited on my last trip to New York. It was in the basement of an old, but still classy, apartment building, something like the Dakota but not that famous. We try to stay under the radar. I found it and followed the signs to the parking garage. We were approached by a valet who offered to park for us.

"We won't be long," I said from the passenger's seat. "Just a pick-up."

"We deliver," said the valet.

"I'm from out of town. I should be back in 10 minutes. Where's your temporary parking?" He directed us and we pulled in. "Sam, why don't you stay in the car?" I suggested, but silent alarm bells went off in my head. That never worked out well these days. "Better yet, come in with me, but stay close and don't say anything." I reached for the empty cooler.

He shadowed me while I approached the counter to place my order. There wasn't much activity yet, but it was warming up. It was a nice place as I recalled - soft lighting, nice music, comfortable chairs with alcoves in the back for privacy. There was even a restaurant for the Freshies. It was nearly dark. The vampires would soon be in for breakfast before they headed off for work. It would get really busy later, after midnight, when people stopped in for lunch or dinner.

The counter attendant asked me for my order. "A six-pack of A+ if you have it, please," I said.

"Yes Sir. That will be 129.60, all taxes included. Cash or charge?" I pulled out my wallet and gave him my charge card.

"Thank you, Sir," he said. Club attendants are discreet, not saying names aloud, but I'm sure Sam noticed mine, if not on my card, in my mind. My thoughts were an open book to him. American Express would know I had been in Manhattan. The name of the club would seem normal, just another branch of The Pulse in Hollywood. Business people make business trips all the time. For the next few days, I was on vacation in upstate NY and Canada, doing some hunting and sightseeing.

Apparently, Sam's friend Francis didn't know about the club, or if he did, he hadn't brought Sam with him. A few Freshies and fewer Vamps were coming in. We'd be long gone before it got crowded.

We returned to the car. I stowed the cooler in the back seat floor under a blanket. "Next, we go to the Ramada by the airport. Kennedy, not LaGuardia. You know the way?"

'Yeah." He put the Mazda in gear to pull out of our space, but he looked over to me. "What was that place?"

"It's a vampire club," I said. I tried to make my tone very serious. What I had to say to him was important. "Never come here alone unless you want to be someone's main course. You can't count on a stranger having your welfare in mind. Or, if you can with the mind reading, you don't know how much control they have. Accidents happen, and I don't want one to happen to you."

"There are groupies lining up – men and women." We drove past them back on the street. They were dressed to attract, showing too much skin for the weather. They'd be colder on the way home, lighter by a pint of blood.

"We call them independent Freshies. Some of them are curious, some are addicted to the bite. I've heard it can be a pleasurable thing. It wasn't in my experience before I was turned, but my sire was in a bit of a hurry." He turned to me for a quick look, but immediately returned his attention to the street. "Once they've been bitten, they can't go to the police because they're an accomplice. They might form stronger attachments, but they might not. These often turn out to be nothing but one-bite stands, like a fix for two kinds of addictions – pleasure and blood." I shook my head and sighed. "If I wasn't sure I could take care of myself last night, I wouldn't have gone with you. You have to think about your safety."

His eyes were looking for the Queens Midtown Tunnel signs, but his mouth formed a grim line in response to my warning. Good. "You're free to do as you wish, of course. Francis couldn't have an exclusivity deal with you either, or you wouldn't have had me over last night."

"We're just friends, like I said."

"That's fine, but I think he cares about you since he bought you your place. I'm starting to care about you too. I don't want you to be used, then thrown aside. Hanging with the wrong people can get you killed."

Sam nodded sharply. "Thank you for telling me that," he said. He showed his card at the descent to the tunnel and we were on our way. I was always amazed at how much tunnels made me feel as if we were sliding through time, like a black hole kind of, only it was white. We were headed away from the city, but it was after rush hour, so we moved kind of fast. When we came out into the night again, Sam asked me why I wouldn't drink fresh.

"It's a long story – one I'd rather not talk about," I said. He didn't ask again. He could pull the story from my head if he wished, but I hoped he was going to respect my privacy.

He drove carefully and soon we were at the hotel. As long as I had to pay for another day, I took a shower. When I came out, wrapped in one towel, and drying my hair with another, I suggested Sam take a shower too while I dressed. We had a long ride ahead of us. I had no way of knowing where we'd be sleeping tomorrow. I hoped I could find someplace cold and private when daylight came.