A Call For Help

NOTE: This log is a short phone conversation which is posted because it's a transition between scenes already posted, and scenes forthcoming.

"MacKiernan here.""

There's a breathy sound, rasping, like someone's trying desperately to catch their breath, then a soft voice. "M-mr. Mackiernan… it's … it's Desiree DeVilliers, one of Ms. Baker's helpers…" The words are forced, slow, carefully enunciated. "I … I've been … attacked." A pause. "By a … vampire. P-please … what do I do? I don't want to call … police."

"Desiree." Braeden confirms her name while at the same time putting a pause on her staggered words. "How badly were you injured and secondly where are you calling me from?

It takes a moment for Desiree to answer. "I-I think my arm's … broken," she finally says. "And … he took a … lot of b-blood." Her voice sounds strained. "I'm … in my car. White Rock Lake. N-near the gardens." It almost sounds as if the effort to speak is taxing her to the extreme. "Please … I can't drive. I don't want to … the AVL doesn't need more bad publicity. N-not now."

Before Braeden answers Desiree is suffering his silence. From his end the television's volume is being turned down and not even the vampire's breathing is echoed into the line. "How are you alive?"

There's silence in the wake of Braeden's question. "He … didn't finish me off. It was a … lesson." There's heavy emphasis on the last word. "Please … I don't know who else to call. If I call Michael, he'll— " Silence for a moment. "Please."

Braeden makes an audible groan, "Fine. Just stay still, I'll have someone go to you."

"Thank you, sir … I'm not going anywhere, don't worry." A pause. "Tell them … silver Mustang convertible, top up." And that sounds as if Desiree just used up the last ounce of reserve strength she has left. The phone goes silent for long minutes, then the connection ends not with a bang, but a whimper.

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