Jeanne Stein - Cloud City

His emphasis on the last words makes it clear that was a subject he’d be revisiting. In the meantime, though, I look to Sophie for the answer to a question I would have asked myself.

She draws a breath. “After I told him the story was Anna’s, he wanted more details. Details I couldn’t give him but promised Anna would.”

“But you knew that was impossible. I haven’t even read the stupid book.”

Stupid book?

You know what I mean, Jonathan. Out loud. “How did you think it would go when he started questioning me?”

Sophie finally allows a bit of confidence to break through the gloom. “I knew it wouldn’t get that far. Anna would show her true nature and Prendergast would back down. Which he did. I also knew you’d get me out of there at the first opportunity. Prendergast is probably on his way out of town as we speak.”

She had thought it through. A flicker of admiration blooms. Briefly. “If you’re right, and Prendergast decides it’s better to leave and let the family legend fade on its own, your plan worked. If not—”

Sophie rises from the bed. “Well, we’ll know tomorrow, won’t we?”

An obvious signal that it’s time for me to leave. I reach out to Jonathan. Go easy on her.

No reply. I release a breath and wave a weary hand. “Good night, Sophie. Sleep well.”

Even as I say it, I know that’s unlikely. She seems aware of it, too, and I wonder if Jonathan has already begun haranguing her.

I wish I could muster up pity.

Nothing looks so inviting as the bed in my hotel room. I shower, slip into shorts and a tank top and settle myself under sweet-smelling sheets. It’s still early, only about ten, but weariness washes over me. Tonight has been laden with emotion—more exhausting than a day of physical exertion. I don’t have the energy to sort through what’s happened or brain storm solutions. Blissful sleep comes easily.

The vampire hears it first. A scratching at the door lock, a twisting of the knob.

She awakens the human Anna, dragging her unwillingly from a dream until the fog clears and she’s aware, too.

I sit straight up in bed, my eyes on the door. Vampire is already roused for action. Teeth bared in a snarl, fists ready to claw the throat of an intruder.

Stealthy as any predator, I slip out of bed, go to stand just behind and to the left of the door.

The scratching continues, a clumsy attempt to pick the lock. I’m tempted to grab the door and pull it open, but I want to see what the late night visitor intends. I wait and watch and listen until the tumblers fall into place and the door opens on silent hinges.

I recognize his smell. Carnivore, reeking of the steak he consumed and the wine he drank. Probably for courage. He is still hidden from sight, but his breathing is ragged and fear exudes from his pores. With a sharp intake of breath, he bursts into the dark room, heads straight for the bed, plunges something into the bedclothes not aware in his frenzy that the bed is empty.

He raises his hand to strike again and I still the hand in mid-air. The wooden stake falls to the floor when my grip threatens to break his wrist.

Prendergast looks at me with eyes wide with surprise and panic. His mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air. I swing him around and throw him down on the bed.

Vampire wants to finish him off. She lusts for his blood. He attacked us and it is our right to defend ourselves. It is the way.

The human Anna is reluctant to interfere. But there are practical considerations. Disposing of a body is difficult. Better to let him go. For now.

I grab Prendergast by his jacket and haul him into a sitting position. “You missed.”

He blinks at me as if surprised I haven’t killed him.

“Sophie lied to you. I’m not the vampire you seek. If I let you go, and you promise to be a good boy and go to your room, you will live to hear the truth. If you don’t, we will end it here and you’ll die never knowing it.”

He still can’t find his voice. A shaky nod, a two-handed push off the bed, an awkward stumble toward the door is all the answer I get.

I beat him by five steps and hold open the door. Vampire shows her serious face. “Remember what I said.”

I think he will.

Sophie is pale, her manner remote when she opens the door to me the next morning. I can only imagine the hell Jonathan put her through. I wonder if she got any sleep at all.

I don’t make things better when I recount my encounter with Prendergast. It’s not my intention to make matters worse between Jonathan and Sophie but they need to know he’s still here and that I told him I was not the vampire he’s been seeking.

“So,” she says. “What happens now?”

“We meet with Prendergast and let him ask his questions.”

“I won’t tell him about Jonathan being a part of me.” Sophie rouses enough to put heat in her voice. “I won’t have him coming after me again.”

Since Jonathan doesn’t respond and I can’t come up with a reply that would do anything except incite more antagonism, I change tactics. “Jonathan, do you have any information that is not in the book? Information that might make Prendergast let go of his vendetta?”

The silence stretches on so long, I begin to wonder if Sophie’s done it again, trapped him in some deep corner of her psyche. But her demeanor is too subdued for that to be true and at last, Jonathan speaks.

Yes. I changed some of the facts in the book.

“Changed them how?”

To add more drama to the story.

“In what way?”

Well, I may have embellished my part somewhat. There were others involved.

Sophie sits up straight. “What are you saying? The story wasn’t about you?”

Of course it was about me. But, as I said, there were others involved.

“Would that make a difference to Prendergast?” I ask.

Another protracted silence. I can’t penetrate Jonathan’s thoughts so I have to wait. But it’s making me antsy and that he does pick up on.

Yes.

Now it’s my turn to show my agitation. How will it make a difference?

I don’t ask the question aloud, afraid to send Sophie into another fury.

Jonathan cloaks his reply to me, too. I imagine he’s afraid of the same thing. It didn’t happen quite the way I said.

Then how did it happen?

I didn’t turn Prendergast’s grandmother. He pauses . She turned me.

Sophie is aware some exchange is going on that she’s not privy to. She rises from her perch on the end of the bed and faces me. “Stop it. I know you and Jonathan are talking. If you don’t include me, I’ll send him away again.”

You have to find out how she did it. Jonathan sounds nervous.

Finding that out will be a subject to pursue once we get Prendergast out of the way, I fire back .Not now.

I raise a placating hand. “Sorry, Sophie. You’re right. You should be a part of this since you’re going to have to be the one to convince Prendergast of the truth.”

She sets her jaw. “I told you, I won’t tell him about Jonathan and me.”

“Maybe you won’t have to. But before we know for sure, Jonathan, tell us the real story.”

Better take a seat , he says. This will take some time.

Reluctantly, Sophie and I sit down. She takes the foot of the bed. I plop onto the divan facing it.

Jonathan spins his tale.

Prendergast’s grandmother was not a paragon of virtue brought to ruin by a seductive vampire. Just the opposite. Long before I came to Leadville, about 1861 or so, Leticia Hurlburt ran one of the first bordellos in the city. She and her business partner found whiskey and whores such a lucrative business, they soon accumulated fortunes of their own.