Violets are Blue

The crowd's gasp was audible. Panic was in the air.

The tigers were gone!

Two magicians in shimmering black-and-gold suits now stood at the center of the stage where the tigers had been just a heartbeat ago. They were both smiling; they almost seemed to be laughing at the jittery audience.

The taller of the two, Daniel, finally spoke. "You have nothing to fear. We're Daniel and Charles, and we're the best you will ever see! That is a promise I plan to keep. Let the magic begin!"

The crowd inside Howl began to clap and cheer, and then to howl. There were two shows that night. Each was scheduled to last an hour and a half. FBI agents had infiltrated the crowd. Kyle Craig was inside. More agents were posted outside on the street. Daniel and Charles concentrated on several tricks, which they called "Homage to Houdini." They also performed Carl Hertz's "Merry Widow."

The audience response to the shows was highly favorable. Nearly everybody left the club in awe, vowing to come again, to tell friends to come. Apparently, it happened everywhere that Daniel and Charles played, coast to coast.

Now came the real work for the FBI. After the second show, Daniel and Charles were whisked away to a silver limousine idling in a sealed-off alley at the stage door. There was a lot of noise and confusion backstage. Daniel and Charles were screaming at each other.

Once the silver limousine finally exited the alley, a team of FBI cars followed through the usual crowds in downtown New Orleans, then out toward Lake Pontchartrain. Kyle Craig was in radio contact for the entire trip.

The limo pulled up in front of an antebellum mansion where a private party was in full rage. Loud rock and roll music, Dr. John, blared across spacious lawns marked by two— and three-hundred-year-old, oaks. Partygoers had spilled onto the lawns that sloped down to the dark, glimmering water of the lake.

The limo driver got out and opened one of the back doors with a theatrical flourish. As several FBI agents watched in disbelief, two white tigers jumped out.

Daniel and Charles were not in the limousine. The magicians had disappeared.

Chapter 58

Daniel and Charles had arrived at a small, private club inside a house in Abita Springs, Louisiana, about fifty miles outside New Orleans. This particular club had never been written up in the entertainment section of the Times-Picayune, or in any of the glossy-covered guide magazines available in the lobbies of just about every large and small New Orleans hotel.

A man named George Hellenga greeted his guests with great excitement and enthusiasm. Hellenga had badly pitted cheeks, the thickest black eyebrows, dark, sunken eyes. He wore contacts that made his eyes appear black. Hellenga weighed more than three hundred pounds, all of it bunched tightly into a black leather jacket and pants purchased at a Big & Tall shop in Houston. He bowed to the magicians as they arrived and whispered that he was honored by their visit.

"You should be," Charles snapped. "We're tired after a long day. You know why we're here. Let's get on with it." Offstage, Charles often did the talking, especially if it meant addressing someone like this pathetic underling, this cipher, George Hellenga, who immediately showed Daniel and Charles the way downstairs. They were the masters; he was the slave. There were legions of others like him, waiting in so many cities, praying for a chance to serve the Sire.

As he descended the steps, Daniel broke into a smile. He saw the captive, the slave, and he was well pleased.

He went to the boy, who looked to be eighteen or nineteen, and spoke to him. "I'm here now. It's so good to meet you. You're astonishing." The boy was tall, perhaps six feet two. He had closely cropped blond hair, supple limbs, full lips that were accented with the most delicate silver rings. His lips were rosy red, outstanding.

"He's pouting. He looks so sad. Let him loose," Daniel commanded the slave Hellenga. "What is the poor boy's name?"

"His name is Edward Haggerty, Sire. He's a freshman at Louisiana State. He is your servant," said George Hellenga, who was now visibly trembling.

Edward Haggerty's slender hands were manacled to the brick wall. He wore silver thong underwear, a silver ankle bracelet. Nothing else. He was a magnificent creature, slender, toned, perfect in every way.

George Hellenga stole a nervous look at the Sire. "He might run if we let him loose, sir."

Daniel reached out his arms to the beautiful boy and held him tenderly, as he would a small child. He kissed his cheek, his forehead, and those astonishing red lips.

"You won't run away?" he asked in a soft, soothing voice.

"Not from you," the boy answered, just as softly. "You are the Sire, and I am nothing."

Daniel smiled. It was the perfect answer.

Chapter 59

My phone rang early in the morning, and I snatched it up. It was Kyle. In his slow and deliberate voice, he told me that Daniel and Charles had disappeared the previous night. He was furious at his agents. I'd never heard him so angry. So far, no murders had been reported that night in and around New Orleans. About six that morning, the magicians had showed up at their house in the Garden District. Where had they been all night? What had happened? Something had.

I stayed in Washington that day, still recuperating from the cellulitis. I studied Daniel and Charles, and wrote a preliminary profile on them to compare with the one being done in Quantico. The first important bit of information was that the magicians had definitely performed in Sava

I shared what I had found with Quantico, and they put it into the file they were amassing. I also faxed everything to Jamilla Hughes in San Francisco. She was trying her best to get down to New Orleans, but her boss hadn't made a final decision yet.

I put in another call to Kyle on the matter. He hemmed and hawed, but finally promised to see if he could get Inspector Hughes sprung for a few days. After all, it had started with her case.

I was becoming frustrated at home. I felt as if I were on a stakeout in my own bedroom — with nothing to observe firsthand. The consolation was that I was with little Alex for long patches of the day and that I got to see more of Damon and Ja

I went to see Dr. Prahbu at St. Anthony's that afternoon. The doctor examined me, then reluctantly gave me clearance to go back to work. He told me to take it easy for the next few days.

"How didyou get those bites?" he asked again. "You never told me, Detective."

"Yes, I did," I said. "Vampires in North Carolina."

I thanked the doctor for his help, then went home to pack for a trip to New Orleans. I was a little unsteady, but I couldn't wait to get there. Nana didn't bother to give me the business when I left Washington this time. She was angry because I'd been so ill from the infected bites.

I flew into New Orleans International Airport that afternoon, then I took an old yellow cab to the Big Easy. A message was waiting at the front desk of my hotel, which was the Dauphine Orleans. I opened the small envelope hesitantly, but it was good news. Inspector Hughes was on her way to New Orleans.