Michael Romkey - Vampire 05 by Vampire Hunter

Author:Vampire Hunter [Hunter, Vampire]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-06-01T22:32:54+00:00

Dorian didn’t seem aware of Desiree’s presence. She stared at Gabriel, scared of what might happen if she took her eyes off him.

“You left the hospital.”

“I found it to be a tedious place, Dorian.”

“The doctors didn’t fix your mind?”

The vampire laughed. “No, I suppose not.”

“Maybe you didn’t see the right kind of doctor. I know someone special, if you not afraid.”

“Gabriel,” Desiree warned.

“It seems a meeting has been ordained or we would not have run into one another tonight,” he said to Desiree.

The girl who had taken his chips returned with his winnings. He tipped her enough to get a kiss in thanks.

They drove to the edge of town, Dorian giving directions from the backseat, and turned down a sandy patch of road. At the end of a dead-end street was a saltbox house a little bigger and better kept than the others in the neighborhood. On the front porch was an old-fashioned overstuffed sofa.

“That it.”

Desiree parked in front of the house and turned off the motor. Dorian got out first and went toward the house.

“I’ve never gotten up the nerve to come here before,” Desiree said. “This is Dr. de la Croix’s place. He’s the most powerful root doctor in South Carolina.”

“Oh, really?” Gabriel said, sounding not particularly impressed.

Dorian waited on the porch for them to catch up, then knocked. A girl opened the screen door without a word of greeting. It took Desiree a moment to realize the girl wasn’t white, though her cafe au lait skin and straight hair would have let her pass for Caucasian. She was barefoot and wore an old-fashioned cotton dress. The girl looked closely up at Gabriel, making no secret of the fact that he alone interested her. Her expression seemed to say that she knew—or pretended to know—something secret about him.

“Welcome, friend,” she said to Gabriel with a smile, speaking with a French accent. “Come in.”

The house was almost completely dark, the air heavy with the aroma of candles and incense mingled with the smell of dust and unwashed dishes. The girl led them into the back bedroom, holding the door open while the visitors filed past into the room.

Dr. de la Croix filled an easy chair facing the door, an enormous presence who seemed to leave no air in the room for Desiree to breathe. De la Croix leaned heavily forward, propping himself up on a gold-headed cane. He wore white shoes, white trousers, a white short-sleeved shirt, and red suspenders. The panama hat on his shaved head was perched at a rakish angle. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. It was impossible to tell his age in the dim light. He might have been in his thirties or even forties, yet the exhaustion evident in the way he held himself suggested he might be much older.

In the corner was a voodoo altar—red candles, bones, ram bottles, rags, jars filled with graveyard dirt. The altar wasn’t the center of attention, though.

The girl gave Gabriel another significant look, nodded at de la Croix, and went out, closing the door behind her.

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