Burke and the Vampire Page 2

“Spread your men out over my territory to look for him,” Antoine replied.

  “Damn it, I have. He’s killed one of them and we’re still no closer to finding him than we were after he murdered the first of us.”

  “We know he only strikes on the weekends. Set up a trap. Use one of your men as a decoy.”

  “Been there, done that. I had them pretending to go after humans,” Reynaud replied sourly. “That’s how we lost Samil.”

  Antoine pressed his fingers together, staring at his second-in-command. A slow smile turned his lips upward.

  “Oh, no,” Reynaud said, sensing exactly what was going through Antoine’s mind.

  “Why not? Are you afraid of a mere human? I’m quite certain you’ll do better at finding him than the men on your team. You’re older and more experienced.”

  “To start with, we don’t know if he is human. Hell, when it comes down to it, we don’t know if he’s a he or a she. He could be another supernatural. He could be one of us, trying to weaken you by eliminating your followers.”

  “I don’t believe that for an instant. If he was another vampire he would have come directly for me.”

  Reynaud snorted softly. “No one would dare stand up to you, Antoine. You’re too old and too powerful.”

  “If he was, also.”

  “We would know if someone who’s your equal was in our territory. He would have made it clear by word and deed, because he wouldn’t fear you. He would have challenged you directly, not take such a round-about way and for so many years, to get to you.”

  Antoine spread his hands. “All right, I’ll give you that. But a human, Reynaud? I can’t believe that for a second. They have no inkling we exist. We’re their fear and their fantasy. The creatures they read about and see in films. Fanciful dark myths, or so they think, who give them shivers up their spines until they close the book, walk out of the theater, or turn off their televisions.”

  “A dhampir, perhaps?”

  Antoine shook his head. “What dhampir would deign to use a gun to destroy us when he had the power to hide himself until he could strike up close and personally? It’s almost a code of honor among them, as intensely as they hate us.”

  Reynaud barely cracked a grin when he replied, “One who’s a coward? No, Antoine, I think we’re dealing with something new. He, and despite what I said before, I firmly believe he is male, has somehow obtained a way to sense us.”

  “Impossible!”

  “Tell that to the ones he’s killed.”

  “He was in the right place at the right time.”

  “Come on, Antoine. Over thirty times, armed with a gun that shoots silver bullets? No, that was not some coincidence, as much as you want to think it is. We’re facing a human. One among the hundreds of thousands who live here. Finding him…” Reynaud shook his head.

  “Do it, Reynaud. Our very existence may depend on it. We may be legion, but our ranks are far from infinite and with every kill he diminishes them.”

  Reynaud bowed his head. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will.”

  * * * *

  “How the hell do I find one special human in this mass of humanity?” Reynaud said under his breath as he surveyed the throngs of people wandering up and down Bourbon Street Friday night.

  It was well after midnight and he had been at it, cruising the Quarter, from the moment the sun had gone down. He’d seen enough humans misbehaving—primarily because of their propensity to drink the night away—to make him glad he was no longer one of them. He hadn’t been since his turning soon after arriving in the New World from France in the late sixteen-hundreds. He had been part of an expeditionary force, ending up at the encampment known as ‘Port Bayou St. Jean’. There, he had met and fallen in love with Jean de Bellisle, who would soon become his Sire in order to save his life after a battle against the natives who populated the area.

  Finding out that Jean was a vampire had been a shock, but not an insurmountable one because Reynaud did love him. What was almost insurmountable was Jean vanishing soon after Reynaud’s obligatory year with him was up. A year during which Jean taught his Child what it took to exist as a vampire. While devastated at the loss of his lover, Reynaud had no choice but to continue living his new life. He had witnessed the founding of Nouvelle-Orleans a few years later, becoming one of its unknown citizens. Then he had met Antoine, who had taken him under his wing. Despite the fact that he was thousands of years older than Reynaud, the two vampires had bonded, forming a friendship which had lasted through the years. When Antoine had become the King of the territory—which was comprised of Vieux Carré or the French Quarter, and everything between it and the western edge the Garden District, including the Central City—he had made Reynaud his second-in-command.

  They had weathered many crises in the ensuing years but none as strange as the one they were facing at the moment.

  Are you even out and hunting tonight? Given what little they knew of The Hunter’s habits, Reynaud was fairly certain he had to be. Finding him, however, was another thing. His plan was to approach someone and lure them to a dark corner or hidden courtyard, making it appear as if he was going to feed from them. If he was lucky, and he hadn’t been so far, The Hunter would see him and follow. All Reynaud needed was a glimpse of the man before vanishing—hopefully without getting shot in the process.

  That hadn’t happened. No one had followed him during his four attempts this evening. He had released his supposed prey, wiping their memories of him first.

  “Fuck it,” he grumbled. “This is an exercise in futility.” A necessary one, he knew, but still frustrating.

  Deciding it was time to get off the street and relax for a while, he changed directions, heading to Dauphine Street and a two-story gay club he liked in the Quarter. Beautiful men, perhaps dancing with one. Not that he would do more than that. Humans were not safe when it came to hooking up. They wanted to know more than he was willing to reveal—such as why he would only be available after dark. Keeping the existence of vampires a secret was not only a necessity; it was the law, set down by the vampire council thousands of years ago and followed to this day. A rogue who broke it was summarily executed, along with any human who knew what they were and threatened to reveal their presence.

  The main room of the club was alive with sound and activity. He stopped at the bar long enough to order a glass of wine then headed upstairs to what was called The Pub. He got lucky, finding a just vacated table on the outside balcony where he could watch both the street and the men mingling or dancing in the pub’s interior. He could have remained inside, but he enjoyed being out there in the fresh air, away from the odiferous, crowded streets where he had spent most of the night.

  Leaning back, he sipped his wine while comparing the merits of several lone men seated at the bar. None piqued his interest enough to want to ask them to dance, but he could wait. Who knows who might walk in, and I’ll miss them because I was too impatient to stay?

  * * * *

  Burke had walked the Quarter until his feet ached. If any of them are hunting tonight, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time to stop them.

  He had sensed the presence of one vampire. Unfortunately, with the hordes of people taking advantage of the end of the work week to meet friends and hit up the various bars and restaurants in the Quarter, he hadn’t been able to locate the creature before it moved out of range.

  “I need a drink,” he muttered, getting a laugh and a ‘There’s enough places here to do that’ from a couple walking past him.

  After making a quick stop at his car to leave his gun, because they weren’t allowed in the bars and clubs, he headed to one of his favorite ones a block from Bourbon Street. He was about to enter when he felt a vampire close by. He turned slowly, trying to determine where it was, and realized it was above him, undoubtedly on one the various balconies lining buildings in the area. He glanced at the one above him belonging to the bar. He can’t be up there. That would be too easy.
Only one way to find out.

  Entering the place, Burke headed upstairs. When he got there, he stopped at the bar to order a beer before going to the balcony doorway. The feeling was much stronger there. His gaze slid from man to man, passed one, and then returned.

  It’s him.

  The man wasn’t handsome in a movie star way, but he wasn’t exactly ugly, either. More like attractive, in a dark, brooding way. He appeared to be in his late twenties, but Burke was well aware he could be ten or a hundred times that, depending upon when he was turned.

  The things I know that no one would believe. He shook his head, vaguely amused and as often happened when he saw one of them, more than a little afraid as well. Is this one benign or looking for his next victim?

  Burke could have turned around and left, found a good vantage point, and then followed the vampire to find out. Or I can try to meet him. Whether he’s on the hunt or spending an evening here because he likes the place, he shouldn’t be surprised if someone approaches him. The worst that can happen is he politely ignores me. He smiled dryly. Or he acts interested because he is on the hunt. If that’s the case, I can let him pick me up and then, hell, that won’t work without my gun. Just my luck. One thing he knew for certain. No vampire could read him or sense his intentions, since they never knew he was around when they were on the hunt until it was too late.

  He remained in the doorway, sipping his beer for a moment longer. All the tables were taken, mostly with pairs of men. Only three had a single man sitting at them—including the one with the vampire, halfway down the balcony. Casually, Burke started toward him. When he got to the table, he gave him his most ingratiating smile, asking, “Is this seat taken? It’s crowded—” he gestured at the other tables and the men leaning against the balcony railing, “—and it’s too nice a night to sit inside.”

  The vampire looked up at him, seeming a bit surprised at the question. Then he shrugged and shook his head. “You’re welcome to sit, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It was. Thank you.” Burke pulled out the other chair and sat, putting his bottle on the table. “I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Burke Gareau.”

  “Reynaud Cloutier,” the vampire replied with a brief smile. He took a sip of his wine, rolling the stem of the glass between his fingers.

  “French? Are you visiting, or do you live here?”

  “I live here.”

  Burke nodded. “Me, too. Close to Audubon Park.” He looked questioningly at Reynaud, who ignored him by turning slightly to look out over the street. “Okay, I’ll shut up,” Burke said picking up his beer to take a drink.

  * * * *

  “My apologies,” Reynaud replied. “I’m looking for someone. Apparently he’s standing me up again.” That’s one way to put it. Reynaud smiled sardonically to himself.

  “Happens to the best of us sometimes,” Burke said. “If he shows up let me know and I’ll find someone else to pester.”

  “I doubt that he will at this point. Near Audubon Park, you said? Believe it or not, in all the years I’ve lived here I’ve never been there. Or perhaps I should say I’ve never been to the zoo.” Because some of the animals become terrified when they sense I’m not human, and react according. Not that he’d tell Burke that.

  Burke grinned. “I think that’s true for most people unless they’re tourists or have kids. I had a friend who grew up in New York and said he’d never been up in the Empire State Building or gone to the Met or Staten Island.”

  “Did you grow up here?” Reynaud asked. He wasn’t certain why he was trying to keep a conversation going, other than it took his mind off failing, once again, to find The Hunter. Or have him find me, which I guess is the same thing.

  “I did. My family has been here for well over a hundred years. Hell, I’m living in the house my great-grandparents built.”

  “Impressive. Mine is old, too, and not too far from here, on St. Louis.”

  “A family home or one you bought?”

  “A bit of both, you could say. It belonged to my great-grandfather, so I guess we have that in common.” Reynaud chuckled. “When he died, his sons decided they didn’t want to be stuck with an ancient, decaying building so they tried to sell it. When they couldn’t, they abandoned it and the city eventually took it over. I heard stories about it from my father, so when I moved here, I went looking for it. A developer had bought the property in the early eighties, turning the building into small apartments. I offered them a good deal more than it was worth to buy it, and then restored it to its former glory.” Not a word of what he was telling Burke was the truth, but it made a good story. One Reynaud had told several times in his past when someone became too nosy about how he’d managed to get his hands on a prime piece of real estate in the Quarter.

  Burke’s eyebrows shot up. “You must be fairly well off. I know nothing in the Quarter is cheap these days, especially property.”

  “I feel bad admitting it, but I inherited a great deal of money from another grandparent.” He smiled nonchalantly. “I suppose you could call me one of the idle rich.” After taking a sip of his wine, Reynaud, said, “Would you think me too inquisitive if I asked what you do for a living?”

  “Not at all. I’m a software developer and game designer.”

  “Nice. At least you’ll never have to worry about being unemployed.”

  * * * *

  “I sure hope not. I love my house but the upkeep…” Burke shook his head ruefully while wondering how much of what Reynaud had told him was the truth. He was very certain the bit about inheriting money from a grandparent was his way of covering the fact he probably didn’t have a visible means of support. Most nighttime jobs wouldn’t pay nearly enough for him to buy the house, if that was the truth. My bet is, he’s owned it forever and pretends to pass it down to his supposed son or grandson or whatever, before people realize he isn’t aging.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” Reynaud replied. “But it’s worth it.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Burke took a drink, studying Reynaud. Is he one of the good ones? He feels benign at the moment. But is he waiting until it gets late enough that he can cull a drunk from the crowds to feed from them, and perhaps kill them, too, to keep his secret? There’s one way to find out, maybe. Burke cocked his head, as if listening to the music coming from the pub. “Do you dance?”

  “No.”

  “Seriously? Why come here, then?”

  “For something to do.”

  “Ah. The bored dilettante.”

  Reynaud laughed. “I’m not that bad. I do have a job, working for a friend of mine as his personal bodyguard. He didn’t need me tonight so here I am.”

  Since when do vampires need bodyguards, unless it’s to protect them from other vampires? Or me. Burke resisted smiling at that thought.

  “That must be exciting. What does he do?” Burke asked.

  “Runs a multi-national corporation.” Reynaud looked at his glass, which was empty. “I should leave. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than keeping me company. There are quite a few interesting looking men you could be dancing with.” He gestured toward the dance floor, barely visible from where they were sitting.

  “Probably, but I’m not really in the mood. I’m enjoying talking with you.”

  “Then why did you ask if I dance?”

  Burke lifted a shoulder. “For something to keep the conversation going, I suppose.”

  “And if I’d said yes?”

  “Then we’d be dancing and talking.” Burke grinned. “Or trying to talk over the music and the noise, and maybe I’d find out where you carry your gun.”

  “My gun?”

  “Don’t all bodyguards carry them?”

  * * * *

  “Only on duty,” Reynaud replied. Now I’ve gotten myself into it. Why didn’t I say I was a personal secretary or his business manager or something?

  “Do you wear a trench coat and a fedora?”

  “You’re kidding, I hop
e.”

  Burke laughed. “I am. I don’t think I’ve ever met a bodyguard. Do you want another drink?”

  Do I? I should be out there, looking for The Hunter, but I’m enjoying myself, which hasn’t happened much recently.

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Okay. Me too. You guard the table—” Burke winked. “I’ll get them. What kind of wine?”

  “Another Merlot, please.”

  “You got it.”

  Reynaud watched as Burke headed inside. He seems like a nice guy, for a human. Perhaps I should have admitted I do dance. I’m not sure why I didn’t. It’s not as if I’d have let it go beyond that. Ah well, it’s too late now I suppose.

  He turned to look down at the street, watching the various men who were by themselves. Is The Hunter one of them, searching for one of us to kill?

  “See someone who interests you?” Burke asked as he retook his seat, setting Reynaud’s wine in front of him.

  “Not at all. But then I’m not looking. As I told you, I’m only here to kill some time.”

  “Yeah, the bored—”

  “If you say dilettante,” Reynaud grumbled.

  “I won’t. I get that you’re not, despite being wealthy. If you were, you wouldn’t be here talking with me. You’d be at some ritzy place, dining on champagne and caviar.”

  “Believe me, that is not my thing.”

  “I didn’t think so,” Burke replied. “You seem pretty down to earth.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Reynaud took a sip of his drink, looking over the rim of the glass at Burke. “Impolite question, but did you come here hoping to pick up someone?”

  “No. Believe it or not, that’s not my thing, to quote you. I was working late and needed some downtime before heading home. I happen to be partial to this place since it’s not on Bourbon so it gets fewer tourists.”

  “The bane of anyone who lives here,” Reynaud said with a combination of amusement and disgust.

  “I disagree. Yeah, they can be a pain but a great deal of our economy depends on them, like all the tourist shops, the riverboats, the clubs, the artists around Jackson Square. Oh, and the guys who lead the vampire and ghost tours. The tourists eat those up.”