Prophecies of Light

by E. M. Knight

  Some look like science labs. Others, computer rooms. The one common factor is that every single human within has on one of those peculiar vests.

  I cannot sense any of them, and that is galling.

  The journey takes us almost to the other side of the building. A part of me considers the possibility that Melvin is taking us the long way simply to show off the splendor of this place. To feel our awe, to feed off our being impressed.

  Eventually, we get to what looks like a freight elevator. Melvin rolls in, then straps his wheelchair into its spot. He gestures for us to come onto the platform with him.

  “Ready?” he asks. “Hold on tight!”

  He pushes a lever, and the elevator plunges down, through a shaft leading deep into the earth.

  It comes to a sudden, almost violent stop. Victoria and Smithson both look like they’re about to be sick. Melvin is grinning at them.

  Then he reaches up and pats me on the back. “I see you’re a man with a strong stomach,” he says. “I respect that.”

  I give him a thin smile, not wanting to say anything that might give away my secret.

  “Daddy’s down there,” he says, pointing out into the dimly-lit hall. “He, uh, might not be so eager to see me.”

  I share a concerned look with the other vampires.

  “But,” Melvin adds under his breath, “someone has to introduce our guests.”

  And so, he drives off the elevator and into the dark.

  “How much can you see?” I ask Smithson and Victoria very softly.

  “Nothing at all,” Victoria says. “It’s too dark.”

  “You first, then,” I say. I don’t want my incidental sure-footedness to give me away. “I’ll come after you.”

  And I’ll walk like you, I think.

  I watch Smithson and Victoria make their hesitant way toward Melvin. He knows the area, so he requires no more than the barest glow of light.

  For vampires, unused to being unable to see, it makes for a sorry sight.

  I trace one hand along the wall and keep pace with my companions. At the far end we reach a heavy steel door. It’s reinforced and a single look at it is enough for me to assume it’s built to withstand even a nuclear blast.

  Melvin fidgets in his seat as we gather around him. He looks nervous. He keeps shooting us short looks, then quickly turning away before our eyes can meet.

  “What are we waiting for?” I ask after a moment.

  “Quiet!” Melvin snaps. He points up to a small camera embedded in the ceiling. “He knows we’re here. We’ll be welcomed in on his time.”

  “Not exactly a warm welcome, then,” Victoria mutters.

  I give her a hard look before realizing that she spoke so softly that only I could have heard.

  Just when I’m about to suggest turning back and trying some other time, the heavy whir of machinery cuts through the air. I look at the door. The sound is coming from around it. Very slowly, a line appears down the middle, and the steel barrier parts in two.

  I whistle when I see how thick it actually is. At least five feet of solid steel, reinforced by God-knows what else.

  Melvin swallows. “Time to see father.”

  He pushes the joystick knob forward. His wheelchair zips in.

  Victoria, Smithson, and I all follow.

  As soon as we’re past the doors a multitude of lights come on. I discover we’re in an enormous circular room. The ceiling is domed, the floor is tiled in huge rectangular blocks.

  I get the sense that any of them can be raised and lowered.

  There are eight doors situated around the outside of the room. They are each perfectly, symmetrically, equidistant from each other.

  “So this is just the lobby, in a sense,” I say.

  Melvin ignores me. “Oh. I hate these games,” he complains. Then he sighs and points to one of the doors.

  “You. Woman,” he says. “You go there.”

  Victoria looks on the verge of giving him hell for calling her that, but I manage to appease her with a sharp cutting motion with one hand.

  “And you, the one from the Order. I want you over there,” he says, pointing out another door.

  Smithson walks over without complaint.

  “What about me?” I ask.

  “You’re staying with me,” Melvin says. He wheels to the center of the room. I stop beside him.

  “What’s this all about, then?” Smithson calls out. “Are we seeing your father, or not?”

  “Yes, yes, we are,” he says impatiently. “But I don’t know which door leads to him.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Smithson asks, a little more forcefully than I would like.

  “I meeeaan,” Melvin drawls, “the doors are fluid. This floor rotates. Like a centrifuge.” He spins one fat finger around in demonstration. “One of these doors leads to father. The others… to our deaths.”

  Victoria sniffs in obvious derision.

  He rounds on her. “You don’t believe me? Go on then, pull open that handle. See what awaits you on the other side.”

  “I think I will,” Victoria says, and starts to reach her hand forward.

  “Stop,” I command. She freezes. “I don’t care if Melvin is being honest or toying with us. Either way, we owe him more respect!”

  The man’s eyebrows go up. He frowns. “Strong words, from a prisoner,” he considers. “I appreciate your foresight.”

  “Just trying to exhibit a bit of decorum,” I say in a supplicating sort of way.

  “So if you don’t know which door it is,” Smithson says, “we’re just sitting ducks out here, waiting for—”

  He’s cut off as the floor suddenly shifts. It rotates one-third of a full circle to the left. At the same time, the walls move the opposite way, so that everything is in a new position.

  “Do you believe me now?” Melvin laughs, tilting his head up to look at me.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” I suggest softly.

  He sighs. “Very well. For the next part, I will have to use my telepathic skills. I require absolute silence. From all of you.”

  I share a concerned look with the other vampires. Is this man for real?

  And yet, sure enough, Melvin repositions his wheelchair in the exact epicenter of the room. He closes his eyes, brings his free hand to the side of his head, touches his temple, and starts to hum.

  “Ommmmm…” he intones. “Ommmm…”

  It takes enormous effort on my part not to recoil in disgust.

  This is clearly a man broken.

  “Ommm…”

  The chant, the hymn, whatever it is, lasts a good ten minutes. Then, without warning, Melvin’s eyes pop open. His hand shoots over and he points to a door.

  “That one!” he exclaims.

  I roll my eyes but step behind him as he wheels his chair toward it.

  Just as he’s about to turn the handle, one of the other doors pops open. From inside comes a sharp derisive cry. “Melvin!”

  The fat man gasps. “F-father?” he manages.

  “Get in here, and stop playing these childish games.”

  A line of sweat breaks out on Melvin’s forehead. All the color has gone from his cheeks. He looks even more pallid than before.

  He takes one last look at the door he was about to open, shudders, and zooms quickly to where the voice came from.

  One more time I meet the eyes of Victoria and Smithson. Their faces show the same concern I feel.

  Slowly, the three of us walk after Melvin.

  The door leads to a long hall that then opens to yet another large space. This one, however, isn’t empty. Various types of medical machines and scanners make a circle on the outside. In the middle of it all is a raised bed. On it lies a very old man.

  He must have at least twenty attendants there with him. They don’t wear the protective vests, so I can sense them all. Some are younger, some are older, but all share the same hardened look of a people who know they will soon be in
mourning. Melvin’s father presses a button that raises the head of his bed. He’s hooked up to a plethora of cables, and all around him are various screens and displays monitoring his status.

  “Hello, son,” he says. Even though his body is frail, his voice is strong. “You look so disappointed to find me lucid. Really, it’s incredible how you wear your emotions on your face.”

  Melvin flinches back but says nothing.

  “And you saw it fit to bring to me three vampires,” he continues. “Why? Were you hoping the sight of them might spook me into a heart attack?”

  “They—they asked to see you, Father,” the wheel-chair bound man murmurs.

  “And so they have,” he says. “You can take them back now, if that was all.”

  He nods in deference. “Yes, sir.”

  But as he starts to wheel around, I speak up.

  “We came not just to see you,” I say, “but to speak to you. We were hoping to cut a deal.”

  “A deal?” the older man says. “You want me to cut a deal with the creatures of the night, with the most parasitic, hateful beings in existence?” He barks a laugh.

  But that was an ill-advised move on his part. The laugh turns into a cough. One of the nurses starts for him, but he waves her away.

  The fit passes in a few moments.

  “Yes, that’s right,” I say. “A deal.”

  “Well, then. Any other time I would have simply had you killed. But a dying man should be granted a few indulgences that he would have never considered before, I think.” His eyes come to me. I am surprised by the fierceness I see inside them.

  “Do you mean me any harm?” he asks.

  “No,” I answer honestly.

  He purses his lips. “I believe you,” he says after. He jerks his head at Smithson and Victoria. “What about those two?”

  “They both answer to me,” I say. “You don’t need to worry about them.”

  “What’s your name, son?” he asks.

  It galls me to be called ‘son’ by a human, but I let it slide. “I’m James. James Soren.”

  “Oh,” he says. “Well, what an interesting turn of events.” A peculiar smile creeps onto his face. “I’ve heard of you.”

  “Good things, I hope.” I quip.

  “Oh, some good, some bad,” he admits. “But the information was unreliable. I’d much rather form my impressions first-hand.”

  He gestures at his son. “Melvin, you may leave us.”

  “What? Father, are you—”

  “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he growls. “You can take all these nurses and doctors, too. I’d like a one-on-one with my new friends.”

  “As-as you say,” Melvin stutters. As he turns away, he shoots me a very hateful look.

  “Come,” he tells the other humans and leads them out.

  Once they’re past the door, Melvin’s father taps something into his keyboard and seals us all in.

  He looks at the three of us. “So,” he says. “It has come to this.”

  I frown. “This?”

  “Me, begging for my life, in front of three of my sworn enemies,” he says.

  “I told you,” I begin. “We mean you no harm.”

  He scoffs. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” His sharp eyes focus on me. “You see that I’m dying.”

  “Yes,” I agree.

  “And you see the pathetic, sniveling mess that is my only son. You know, when the doctors first found the cancer, they gave me three months to live.

  “That was five years ago.”

  “Then it speaks of your will to stay alive,” I say carefully.

  He scoffs. “No. It speaks of my will not to see this great organization fall into the hands of my son. A single family had power over the Crusaders for its entire existence. Yet the buck stops with him. When he inherits it, I give it six months before it collapses all around him.”

  “Well, surely, sir,” I say, stepping toward the raised bed, “you have made the proper arrangements with others in your council to guide him the right way.”

  The old man smiles. “Any senior staff I leave behind will be relieved of their duties by Melvin. The first thing he will do is to dispense with any members of the old regime. You’ve seen him. Do you think he is one to listen to sound advice?”

  I press my lips together and shake my head.

  “If I may…” Smithson begins.

  The old man glares at the vampire. “No,” he hisses. “You may not. I am speaking to your leader, not you.”

  “It’s fine, Smithson,” I placate him. I turn back to the man. “You were saying?”

  “I was saying that everything I have built, everything my family has worked for, generation after generation after generation, will come crashing down if my failure of a son takes hold of the lance of power.”

  “Well,” I say, “maybe there are others who could inherit control.”

  “Blah!” he spits. “Others. One child was enough for me, and you see how he turned out.”

  “Well, maybe there are cousins… other family…”

  “There is nobody else,” the dying man says. “The way of inheritance is writ in our founding constitution. When I die, control of the Crusaders falls to my next-of-kin. Melvin is that man.”

  “If you’re so fearful of what he can do,” Smithson murmurs. “Why not have him killed?”

  “Did I say I was talking to you?” the old man explodes.

  “Fine,” he sniffs. “But the man I knew in charge of the Crusaders before would never let such harm befall his organization.”

  “What do you mean, the man you knew?” he demands.

  “You and I have met, on numerous occasions, many years ago,” he says softly. “For a number of years we were in constant contact.”

  “What are you talking about?” he barks. “You belittle me in my own home! I only knew one Smithson, my entire life, and, you, sir vampire, are not him.”

  “You don’t recognize my voice,” Smithson says softly. “Understandable, given how long it’s been. But I would have thought, at least, that you’d know my face.”

  The old man turns his head to Smithson. He squints his eyes.

  “Come closer,” he asks.

  Smithson bows his head and very slowly walks over.

  “Closer. Closer. No, I still can’t see you. I need you right by my bed. These damn cataracts…”

  But then, when Smithson comes into the old man’s view, the leader of the Crusaders gasps.

  “You’re Smithson, of the Order,” he mutters.

  Smithson smiles. “So you did not recognize me because you could not see,” he says.

  “Hold on, wait,” I say. “You looked right at me. Your eyes were crystal clear.”

  “When you’ve been in my position for a long as I have,” he says, “You learn how to give others the impression that you need.”

  “So you can’t make me out, either,” I say. “Not from so far away.”

  “I’m dying, damn you, of course I cannot see!”

  I walk closer. “Then what about that thing you told us at the start? You know we threaten no harm. Yet you said you would be begging for your life.”

  His sharp eyes land on me. I find it uncanny how the gaze can be so precise even though he claims cataracts.

  “Yes,” he agrees. “I would be.

  “Because I want you to lift me from this misery and make me one of you.”

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Paul.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eleira

  The Haven

  I rush to the closest open balcony and leap down to the ground. The wind flies by me.

  I land softly on the grass.

  Not exactly a Queenly maneuver, but I have to get to Raul as quickly as I can.

  I run to the front of the evergreen entrance to the apartments, where I find Raul surrounded by a ring of guards.

  He’s incoherent.

  He’s stumbling around,
muttering nonsensical words. Every once in a while I think I can make out ‘Cassandra’ and ‘villagers’ in his speech, but I can’t be sure.

  I burst through the guards and stop before him. His eyes go to me, attention caught by the movement, but he does not seem to recognize who I am.

  He keeps muttering those incoherent things under his breath, all the while trying to go one way, then the other, entirely unsure of where he is or where he wants to go.

  “What happened?” I demand of the group.

  Geordam catches up to us. He took the elevator down.

  “As far as I can tell, he came from the stronghold,” he says. “The Incolam said they saw him come to us from that direction.”

  “Raul,” I say. “Raul! Can you hear me?”

  No recognition of any sort dawns on his face.

  I stride up to him and catch his cheeks in my hands. I hold him tight, using my vampiric strength to make sure he doesn’t wriggle free.

  Then, I call upon the Elements and send a probing stream of Earth and Water into his body.

  I concentrate, closing my eyes, trying to find out what’s wrong with him.

  I do not pick anything up.

  His blood is normal, the vampire essence is all there, no part of his body is damaged. I search for even a hint of the corruption that plagued him before and find not a drop.

  I let him go. He stumbles back and has to be caught by the guards to remain upright.

  A huge pang of worry for him takes me.

  “So?” Geordam asks.

  I shake my head. “He’s supposed to be as healthy as a bull. What’s he been saying?”

  Geordam hesitates. “When he came here, he was calling for you. He was in bad shape, but not like this. He seems to be deteriorating.”

  “How long did you wait?” I exclaim. “Damn it, how long was he out here before you came to me?”

  “I ran to you immediately, my Queen,” he professes. “Only a minute or two had passed.”

  “Oh,” I say softly.

  My reaction was overblown.

  “What do you want us to do?”

  “Find Phillip. And Felix. Bring them both to me immediately. Help Raul up to my apartment. Call the vampire doctor, maybe he can help.” I pause. “Actually, on second thought, don’t do that. He’s only here to look after the humans and their sicknesses. I keep forgetting.”