The Drinker of Blood

Chapter Thirteen

From time to time, life will deal me a new experience, something that I never before have encountered. As the years pass, such treasures become hard to find, but one had possessed me now.

The time I spent with Freya that morning had eased my troubled mind. It wasn't quite as powerful as the feeling I got after having drank blood, but it was a close enough substitute. Exhausting myself on her sweet and fragrant flesh had left me calmer and my thinking a bit clearer. It was only a little, but it helped. I cannot express to you how good being with her made me feel.

I decided to take the bull by the horns and to go poke around corporate headquarters of the Chambéry company. I so far had surveilled the place at a distance, but I chose that day to go inside and have a shufti, up close. What is the worst thing that could happen? There was a lot of security, but it otherwise was a public building with people coming and going on various bits of business. There might be something there worth seeing.

And, if nothing else, I would make my presence known. Not that my rivals didn't know I was in the Chicago area—or "da Region," as locals sometimes called it—but they probably did not know I was so close.

The idea was not a thing to relish, but such a move just might flush them out, lead them to come after me. Making myself a target again was a terrible thought, but I'd been on this vendetta against Whitefarrow for more than a quarter century. It wasn't a nonstop campaign, but I'd cut my petty path through his people and his assets. Marion so far was the biggest fish. I don't know that eliminating Isolde would cripple my enemy, but the deed couldn't help but hurt him.

The corporate compound—a campus they called it—was located in a broad park on the outskirts of Evanston. Even in the gloom of the late fall, it was attractive to the eye. And I pulled into the parking area in the midafternoon and began to look around.

Why not start with the main entrance? It seemed to be the normal thing to do, so I sashayed up and let myself in through the broad automatic doors. (Those kind of things have always creeped me out a little.)

The building's reception area was vast, with a security and information desk on the far left, several sets of doors marked Auditorium ahead, and a series of posters, paintings, and information vestibules spread tastefully throughout.

From the sound, some sort of conference was being held in the auditorium. I ignored that.

The displays charted the history of the company, its ties to the local community, and the various businesses and sectors of the economy into which it had poured its resources.

I took a look at the displays. It was very impressive, so impressive that I spent more time than I'd intended looking at the various solar power, international development, and infrastructure growth projects that Chambéry championed and in which they had invested heavily.

There was no telling whether such projects were a smokescreen, but the presentation was great. Isolde had always been stylish and full of flare.

At about the same time that I finished with my self-guided tour, the doors to the auditorium opened. A stream of people followed; some attractively dressed and others in their just barely suitable workaday attire. Many of these folks departed the building, and others still paused to chat.

Most seemed to be moving toward a set of escalators and elevators that were situated on the far side of the security desk. Everyone headed in that direction appeared to have lanyards with security credentials around their necks, but the security officer didn't seem to be checking any of them.

This would be my chance to get past security, but as I moved in that direction in a confident stride, I pulled up short.

A trim woman of just over five feet emerged from the auditorium, speaking as she did with someone to her right. The woman was not quite beautiful, but there was an elegance and a perfectly coiffured aura around her. Of course, there were hangers on. There were always hangers on.