Black Fall

by D.J. Bodden

CHAPTER 25

  Heart racing, Jonas stepped outside and walked down the steps. Doris stood on the sidewalk with her back to him, or rather, she floated an inch or two above the concrete. Eugene hung in the air beside her, hands and feet dangling limply as if he was suspended on an invisible meat hook in a butcher shop.

  Standing next to Doris, facing the apartment building, an Order vampire smirked and said, “Just come with me, and—”

  “Ssshhhh!” Doris said. She flicked her fingers in the vampire’s direction. There was a cracking sound, and vampire dropped to one knee, screaming. Doris waved her hand, and he flew apart, dark grey ash spilling on the ground. Jonas froze on the stairs.

  Just then, a car drove up the street. Doris waved her hand and the driver was yanked out through the windshield, into the air. The car continued forward, swerved, and crashed into a red Corvette. She made a series of motions with the fingers of her left hand, reached toward the flailing driver, and pulled. Green flames danced over the man’s body. His skin turned gray, shriveled, then he went limp as the green glow floated toward Doris’ hand.

  She turned, suddenly. “Jonas!” she said, pleasantly. “Let me fix my face.” The right side of her face, where Eugene caught her with the shotgun blast, looked like hamburger meat. Jonas could see bone through the deep gouges on her forehead and scalp. She pulled the green glow into her left hand, and teased out strands of green light with her right, applying them to the damaged flesh. Immediately, the wound began to close, and the skin smoothed over. “There,” she said primly, as the glow died out.

  Do you need help? Eve sent to Jonas. She was at the door, with Kieran behind her.

  No! Stay inside, and keep Kieran back, Jonas answered.

  Doris looked different, and it wasn’t just the makeup or prosthetics. She had a long, thin nose; smooth, pale skin; lively, light brown eyes; and brown hair. She watched him with an amused look, while tapping her finger on her chin, then said, “Jonas Black. Whatever am I going to do with you?”

  Jonas frowned. “I thought the Director sent you to—”

  “I wasn’t done speaking!” Doris shrieked. A pulse went out from her, knocking Jonas back on the stairs and shattering glass along the entire block. Jonas froze where he’d fallen. “Fangston doesn’t tell me what to do! No one does!” Doris glared at him, her shoulders heaving up and down.

  “Okay, Doris, whatever you—”

  “That’s not my name!”

  Jonas stayed as quiet as possible. He even stopped breathing. Outwardly, the lich looked like a healthy human being, but either her long imprisonment or just being a lich had made her violently unstable. Eugene was starting to come around, not that it would do him much good hanging a foot in the air.

  The lich turned back to look at him, and said, “Fangston sent me to bring you in. What do you want, Jonas?”

  Jonas swallowed. “I just want to stop more people from dying.”

  “By killing Fangston?”

  “By removing the demon, one way or another,” Jonas said, licking his lips.

  “Hmm… that sounds messy, Jonas. How about I make you a deal? I drain this one,” she said, raising her hand toward Eugene, “and I kill Fangston for you. No big battle, no fuss, and your friends get to stay alive. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  Jonas’ mouth went dry.

  Jonas, what’s going on out there? Why have you stopped? Madoc sent.

  He could end it, right now. After seeing what the lich could do, he had no doubt she could cut her way through Fangston’s army and kill him. Even with Madoc, they were going to take casualties. If he took the deal, only one person had to die.

  Eugene, fully awake now, looked down at him and said, “Take it, Jonas.”

  “Come on, Jonas. You’re a Black. Your mother would have made the right decision by now,” the lich said.

  She could be lying, Eve sent. You don’t want this on your conscience.

  “Take the deal, kid! Mission first!”

  “No,” Jonas said, and immediately felt he’d made the right decision. He wasn’t sure what his mother would have done, but he wasn’t like Fangston. He wouldn’t murder a man in the name of the greater good.

  The lich put her hand on her cheek. “So much like your father.” She shook her head. “I want you to remember this, Jonas.” She raised her opened right hand toward Eugene, and squeezed.

  “No!” Jonas yelled.

  Eugene looked at him, wide eyed, as green fire engulfed him. Then his desiccated body dropped to the ground.

  “I want you to remember what it feels like to have your choices taken away, like she did to me.”

  The lich pressed the glowing green life force that she’d taken from Eugene into her chest. “Give Aliz my best,” she said, in a strange accent he’d never heard before. Her body disintegrated into fine, grey dust that floated on the breeze, and she was gone.

  Eve and Kieran rushed out of the building, and stood next to Jonas, staring at the dead bodies, shattered windows, and broken cars.

  Jonas, what just happened, Madoc asked.

  We don’t have to worry about Doris, for now, he sent. Please tell Frank that Eugene is dead.

  ♟

  They walked to the bus stop and waited in silence. Madoc kept Jonas informed on how things were progressing. All the hunters were at their staging areas, and the Macreadys were moving to their meeting points. Viviane was awake, furious, and saddled with Jim as an escort, but other than that, she was going along with the plan. The priest was also ready.

  Now, all Jonas had to do was make it through one-hundred-eighty-five supernaturals and their possessed leader, disrupt a ward – strong enough to shield about thirty city blocks from Madoc’s view – and everything would be peachy. We’re off to a great start, Jonas thought. One of his men was already dead.

  They rode the M101 downtown. Kieran stood while Jonas sat silently next to Eve, who sat staring out the window. Jonas couldn’t blame her. Assuming Madoc’s numbers meant anything, their chances of finding the wards were slim. He hoped that, if things didn’t go as planned, Eve could pretend to be fighting for the other side, and escape later… it wasn’t a clear plan, but he tried to convince himself that she’d be okay.

  Madoc told Jonas that he hadn’t seen Alice leave the warded area, which meant she would probably be there, too. Maybe his dad was down there as well. A part of him hoped he’d find them both tied up in a room somewhere. He’d cut them loose, they’d take over, and things would work out – go back to the way they used to be. But another part of him worried that his mother would side with Fangston if she thought it would bring her husband back. If she did, none of his planning would matter; even if he could hope to match her strength — which he couldn’t — he would never fight his own mother.

  Doris had killed more people as she’d left the city, but Jonas knew there was nothing he could do about it. Madoc said she was draining their life-force.

  You mean, like, their souls? Jonas asked.

  No. There’s only one being I know of who can affect the soul itself. She’s feeding off the force that keeps their souls attached to their bodies.

  Jonas didn’t see the difference — the person still died. So what happens to the soul after that?

  If I knew that for sure, kid, I wouldn’t be a specter.

  Around 49th street, he lost his connection with Madoc. Eve reached over and held his hand as she watched the people outside, hurrying from place to place, bundled in coats, scarves, and winter hats. Some of the stores were already putting up Christmas decorations. She sent him a childhood memory of decorating the tree with her family, then sitting in the warm glow of a crackling fireplace, listening to her father read Christmas stories. He felt the happiness she remembered, and the sadness of her loss.

  “We’ll be okay,” she said, and patted his hand.

  He didn’t respond.

  They got off the bus, and walked the remaining two blocks to the Agency.

  An ambulance was
parked in front of the building, and the police had set up barriers around the lobby. Jonas could see cops taking pictures and kneeling by dark shapes on the floor, and a crowd of onlookers had formed.

  “How are we going to get in?” Kieran asked.

  Jonas thought for a minute. “Can you get us through to the barricade?”

  Kieran nodded.

  Jonas and Eve followed as Kieran pushed his way through the crowd. The werewolf was gentle, but moved steadily through until they were up against the police barricade.

  “Can you help me?” Jonas said to Eve.

  “With what?”

  “We’re detectives, and that cop over there is going to escort us to the elevator.” He pointed to a uniformed policeman who was standing at the fence, looking cold and bored.

  “Okay.”

  Between the two of them, it didn’t take much to get the cop to wave them through. It didn’t hurt that the cop had been standing there for thirty minutes without gloves, and his hands were freezing. People in the crowd were probably wondering why three teenagers were being allowed into the crime scene, and Jonas even saw one or two cameras flash, but he and Eve kept their attention focused on their escort. It was even easier to distract the policemen in the lobby; they saw their colleague walking someone through, and their minds filled in the blanks.

  As they passed the reception desk, Jonas saw Jared’s charred body slumped over it. There was a gun on the floor in front of him. At least he went down fighting, Jonas thought. The guard by the elevator was a different story. His gun was still holstered, and he was lying face down in a crumpled heap – dead before he knew what hit him.

  Once in the elevator, with the doors shut, Eve said, “What now? I’ve never seen a passage to lower levels in any of the areas I’ve been to.”

  “We could try the library, or the labs,” Kieran said.

  “Labs?” Jonas asked.

  “They do checkups and blood work for enforcers, plus a little research. I worked there as an assistant.”

  Jonas shook his head. “No, my father sent Madoc an image of where he was. I think that was his way of making sure someone would find him, and I think this elevator will take us there.”

  Jonas looked at the panel and pictured the dream he’d had, the one that started everything.

  The elevator sped downward.

  ♟

  It was just like the dream. The air felt thick and damp, like they were in a cave, the walls were old brick, with slightly rounded corners and stains on the mortar.

  “We have visitors,” someone said.

  Jonas, Eve, and Kieran walked into the next room. There were crates against the walls, stacked floor to ceiling, along with pallets of equipment, racks of weapons, and bins full of body armor. Enough to supply an army. Werewolves and vampires were going through the gear with clipboards, examining assault rifles, and trying on a bullet-proof vests. He saw people carrying very heavy loads and realized, from their gray skin and shuffling gait, that they were zombies.

  Jonas stiffened as a vampire entered the room and walked toward them. “Jonas! You brought friends, how wonderful!” It was the vampire who’d supervised his beating, three days ago. The pain was now gone, but he still felt the urge to run.

  It’s okay, Eve told him. Stick to the plan.

  Thanks

  “We’re here to see the Director,” Jonas said.

  “Of course you are. He’s been expecting you, ever since he freed Doris from her gilded cage. Did you see the lobby? He said that was all your fault, by the way… that you’d given him no choice. He knew you’d come running when the cattle started dying.”

  Jonas gritted his teeth. “I was planning on coming anyway. He has my mother.”

  The vampire smiled. “Yes, I’m sure you would have, after killing a few more of our members, or destroying the journal. You do have it… don’t you?”

  Jonas could feel the vampire scanning him. That’s why he’d brought the journal with him, he knew he couldn’t hide the truth from them. “Yes, I have it with me.”

  “Remarkable. I can’t fathom the idiocy that made you come here, with just two friends as backup, with that in your pocket. But I’ll tell you what,” he said, leaning in and whispering, “If you give it to me now, and get back in that elevator, I’ll let you have a head-start, before we come for you.”

  I could let Kieran kill him now, Jonas thought. All I’d need to do is say the word. But then I’d never make it to Fangston.

  “I’m here to see the Director. I’ll give him the journal once I know my mother’s okay, and he stops Doris from killing more people.”

  The vampire scowled. “Suit yourself,” he said. “But don’t expect any mercy from me, or anyone else, when the Director’s done with you. We’ve all lost friends because of you, and don’t appreciate traitors who put humans before supernaturals, like you and your family.”

  Jonas didn’t give him the satisfaction of a comment. They followed the vampire through the hideout, moving through more cluttered storage rooms. There were armed guards — werewolves — stationed at the end of every hallway, and at each staircase.

  The floor above was even more populated — rooms full of cots where supernaturals talked, laughed, and played cards. They passed a cafeteria, and then an exercise room where members of the Order sparred and trained with instructors. Jonas had expected it to be more monstrous — skulls, chained prisoners, people bathing in the blood of virgins. But now that he’d seen it for himself, it didn’t seem that different from the Agency.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

  The vampire looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. “You really have no idea how the world works, do you?”

  Jonas shrugged. “Explain it to me.”

  The vampire stopped suddenly, and turned. “Look, regardless of what you may have seen from the heights of the grand Black estate, or from your privileged personal tutelage at the Agency, that’s not how most of us live. We have to work for our blood. And if we decide to take the food we need, they strap us to a rooftop just before sunrise. You’ve been hungry, haven’t you? I think we made sure of that.”

  Jonas nodded. He remembered what it felt like to stumble down the street, almost mad with hunger.

  “Most vampires and werewolves are brought into the world by accident, in spite of the Agency’s neat quota system. We’re shunned, go hungry, and get hunted by the humans you’ve chosen to ally yourself with. The Agency doesn’t care. It does whatever it has to in order to keep the governments happy. Human governments, Jonas. That’s what we’re fighting.”

  “You can’t fight all of humanity,” Eve said.

  “We don’t want to fight all of them. We just want a little more fairness in the system.”

  “But it won’t work!” Jonas said, throwing up his arms up in frustration. “I learned all about this. Vampires can only function during half the day, so they can’t hope to participate in sustained combat operations. And if werewolves breed and infect without checks on their growth, they’ll spread like a plague, exhausting the biomass of the planet.”

  “Agency and human brainwashing,” the vampire said, waving his hand dismissively. “We can reach a stable society. And now that you’ve brought us the formula for the Serum, we can mass produce it instead of having it rationed out by our human masters.”

  Jonas felt an icy coldness in the pit of his stomach. So that’s what was in the journal — the formula to make vampires immune to the sun. He’d wondered why they didn’t use it more often; now he knew.

  I should have destroyed it, Jonas sent to Eve.

  Well, it’s too late for that now. Just agree with him.

  What?

  Agree with him. He doesn’t have to take us to Fangston.

  But before Jonas could say anything else, Kieran spoke up. “What about the juveniles?”

  The vampire turned to face him. “What?”

  “The young werewolves whose lives you spend so cheaply,” Kiera
n said, staring at the vampire. “And what about the fact that you have a demon leading you?”

  The vampire scowled. “It’s not like we have many choices. Werewolves breed faster, and they can eat just about anything. We save the older ones for breeding and training, send out the younger ones, to die for the cause. It’s a necessary evil. And as for the Director,” he said, shrugging, “Fangston had the resources and the real estate to make this happen. Whatever he’s in league with, is his own business. We find allies where we can.”

  Thinking about not having many choices sent a shiver down Jonas’ spine. “That’s what you did to me,” he said.

  “Did what?”

  “You forced me to find allies where I could. Do you really think I would have surrounded myself with hunters — people who’d rather see me dead, regardless of what I’ve said or done — if I thought I had any choice in the matter?”

  Kieran started to speak, but Eve put a hand on his arm.

  The vampire looked at Jonas.

  I spoke nothing but the truth, Jonas thought. He’d carefully limited the statement, but unless the vampire broke through his barrier, he wouldn’t know the difference.

  “We may have misjudged you,” the vampire said, “But that’s not for me to decide. Come… I’m Mordecai, by the way”.

  “Nice to meet you, Mordecai,” Jonas said.

  Mordecai chuckled.

  The older vampire led them back the way they’d come, but taking them through a different door, to a staircase leading upward.

  “I thought the Director was that way,” Jonas said, pointing in the direction the vampire had originally been leading them.

  “I got turned around. Too many hallways,” Mordecai said.

  Jonas’ mouth went dry. If Eve hadn’t told him to play along, his fight with Fangston might have been over before it started. Thanks, he sent to Eve.

  Someone’s got to keep you safe, she said.

  Two levels up, the rooms were different. There was more room between cots, and privacy curtains. The werewolves were larger and carried weapons, or wore armor; the vampires looked older — in their mid-thirties — and mingled with the werewolves as equals, instead of each species being separated into groups of their own kind. Several of the vampires were followed by servants in livery; men and women of various ages, mostly attractive, with thin, colored scarves or mandarin collars covering their necks. They also wore armbands that bore an insignia, matching a small pin on the collars of the vampires they followed.

  “Thralls,” Eve said.

  Mordecai nodded. “All volunteers, chosen because of the quality of their blood and the richness of their lives. You could have one too, if the Director found you useful.”

  “Is it really that different from drinking it out of a bag?” Jonas said.

  Mordecai looked at him, his eyebrows drawn together, “You’ve never… I thought it was just propaganda to keep the masses happy and quiet. You mean Alice Black feeds off…” he wrinkled his mouth in disgust. “Let me show you something,” he said, and led the group to a small room near the living quarters. Four humans sat at a table — two men and two women — talking and sipping wine. They wore thin scarves around their necks, but no armbands. When they saw Mordecai walking toward them, they stood, and one of the men said, “Can we help you, sir?” He sounded hopeful.

  Mordecai ignored the man and looked at Jonas. “These are unassigned thralls, used by transient personnel until they are no longer needed, or someone chooses them. You may pick one.”

  “What?”

  “Feed, boy. Do what comes naturally.”

  Jonas looked at the four humans, somewhat shocked. They weren’t afraid. If nothing else, they were eager. “You actually want this, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes sir. And if I may, I had a wonderful experience back in 1972 that—”

  “Enough,” Mordecai snapped. “I don’t want you influencing his choice.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jonas said, “I’m afraid I might kill them. I can’t control my feeding yet.”

  “That’s fine, I’ll pull you back,” Mordecai said, speaking in a friendly manner, as if he was offering Jonas his first sip of wine or sneaking him a beer. But there was a calculating look in his eyes. “Think of it as a rite of passage.”

  This is a test, Jonas told Eve, What should I do?

  Just get it over with, she said.

  Jonas could tell that Eve was unhappy with the whole situation; her face was livid. But he couldn’t risk angering Mordecai by refusing. He looked at the four people, wondering who to choose. His eyes were naturally drawn to the second woman: late-thirties, shoulder-length, straight blonde with a few strands of gray. She had a perfect body and smooth ivory skin. There was a faint suggestion of wrinkles at her eyes, cleverly hidden by makeup – the only price time had exacted from her face, except… he stepped forward and brushed her hair back. She had an ugly, jagged, scar that ran from the corner of her mouth across her cheek.

  “An uncommon choice, Jonas,” Mordecai said. “The one who chose her was known for his eccentricity, and even he couldn’t stand the look of her.”

  The woman blushed, looking down at the floor. Water welled in her eyes.

  “She’s the one I want,” Jonas said, without thinking.

  The two men had looked at him with ambition; they thought being a thrall was a step toward being turned, to holding onto their strength forever. And the other woman, the younger one, also wanted what being his thrall would bring — trinkets, the pride of having been chosen. She looked at him longingly, licking her lips, promising thoughts that made him blush. But the woman with the scar just wanted him, period, with a longing that overcame her shame.

  Please, he heard her think, so strongly that he didn’t even have to read her. It was irresistible.

  She leaned forward, pulling her scarf down, and Jonas sank his teeth into her neck.

  He gripped her elbow and the opposite side of her neck, inhaling the light perfume she wore and the smell of lotion. Her pulse pounded on his lips… then the memory came. It wasn’t like with Eve, when they’d shared information and emotions. Then, he’d known it was a memory. But this was something entirely different. It was as if it was happening now, seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and feeling through his own senses.

  She was walking the red carpet at a motion picture premier, wearing a white dress that felt snug against her body. A local designer, a darling boy just out of art school with more talent than most, had made it for her. She’d gotten the dress for the price of a kiss – and a promise she’d never keep – just two weeks before his collection was scheduled to show. She smiled for a camera, pouted for another. Diamonds hung heavily from her neck, sparkling in the flash of the paparazzi.

  She moved closer to Jonas, pressing against him. She was going to be famous, the envy of all the women she’d had to step over to get where she was.

  “That’s enough,” Mordecai said, pulling him back.

  “You’re beautiful,” Jonas whispered into her ear.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  Still connected to her, Jonas suddenly felt the glory she’d lost, when a jealous boyfriend had cut her face and ended her dreams. There was no moving on for her. No alternate vocation she could accept. She just wanted to experience that moment as many times as she could, gladly choosing to die, rather than live on as she was. After all, he’d be doing her a favor. She looked him in the eyes, chest still heaving, lips slightly parted…

  Jonas! Eve shouted in his head.

  He jerked back, looking around at Mordecai and his friends as if waking from a dream.

  “Wish my food tasted that good,” muttered Kieran.

  “Kieran!” Eve said incredulously.

  Mordecai chuckled. “Would you like to try, Eve?”

  “Absolutely not,” she said, turning her back to them.

  Mordecai smiled and shrugged. He looked at Jonas, and sent… You could have her, if the Director finds you useful.
You could even grant her wish — death at the height of her glory. No one else wants her. And, if you’re very useful, we might even let you turn her. She’d be young again, forever.

  Jonas looked at the thralls. The woman he’d embraced looked at him shyly, but didn’t turn her eyes away. The others were full of resentment.

  “I need to see the Director.”

  Mordecai smiled. “Of course. Just remember what we talked about.”

  I’m sorry, Jonas told Eve.

  That’s okay, you didn’t have a choice… but maybe you could have enjoyed it less, she replied.

  He offered her the memory of what happened, but she clamped her walls down.

  No! she said. Then, more gently, I’m sorry. I’m… we’ll talk about it later, if we survive this.

  Did I do something wrong?

  No. I just cared more than I thought I would.

  They rounded a corner, and Mordecai almost ran into Bert.