As his mother headed for the door to his room, Matthew called to her, “Mom—don’t tell anyone what happened.”
His mother never paused on her way out of his room. The door closed.
Letting out a sigh, Matthew lay down on his bed. Maybe the painkillers had kicked in, because he felt groggy. A sharp rap snapped him wide awake. He thought hazily about what could’ve made it. It was the sound of glass. He turned to the right.
Beyond a window framing darkness, a pale face swayed—a blond woman of unearthly beauty. It wasn’t her lovely face that shook off his sleepiness, but rather the strength of the eerie aura that billowed from her, blasting him through the glass.
II
Shutting his eyes, Matthew slowly counted to five, and then opened them again. The face had vanished.
I’m so beat my brain must be playing tricks on me, he thought. Come to think of it, as pretty as she was, she only had one eye.
There was another rap. He had enough presence of mind to tell that this time it was a knock at his door.
“Come in,” he called out, taking his gaze off the window.
Sue came in. She wore a long robe over her pajamas.
“You’re still up?”
“I was worried,” Sue replied.
There’d been something fleeting about the girl ever since she was born, and although there was nothing physically wrong with her, her parents had always thought she wouldn’t be long for this world—a thought Matthew himself sometimes shared. She remained that way even now, but having reached nearly fourteen years of age, she inspired hope that she’d somehow manage to keep on living.
“My wound’s gonna be fine. After a full day’s rest tomorrow, I’ll be back in the fields.”
“I’m glad,” Sue said. The smile her bloodless lips formed was heartbreakingly sweet. Matthew always fought the urge to grab her by those dainty shoulders and give her a big hug.
“What’s the matter?” Matthew inquired gently, seeing that his younger sister was staring at a single point, unable to hide her anxiety.
Bringing one hand to her lips, Sue bit the knuckle of her forefinger. “Hey!”
“Matt, have you had that dream again?”
“What dream?”
“The one from the other day!”
“The other day, you say? You mean when we all had the same dream—ten days ago?”
Sue nodded. “We dreamed about a falling star. The northern Frontier was in a terrible state. And ever since, I’ve had the scariest dreams every night.”
“What sort of dreams?”
“You mean you haven’t been having them, too, Matt?”
“What sort do you mean?"
“Scary ones," Sue mumbled, eyes closed and hands folded before her chest. “There are these shadowy figures approaching out of a fog—a whole bunch of them. When I counted them last night, there were eight. One of the shadows was huge—like a mountain standing behind them, with the others at the foot of it—and they seemed to spring from his feet.”
“You sure you’re not reading too much into this? They’re just dreams. Hell, there are dream demons to be found hereabouts.”
“I just know something,” Sue said as if making an entreaty, her body quivering.
“Know what exactly?”
“That someone’s out to get us. We’re the ones they’re after!” “When you say we—you mean me and Mom, too?”
“Yes, and Dad.”
“Well, then, let’s let him handle it.”
“Matthew!”
Waving one hand at his sister’s pained visage, Matthew said, “I was just kidding. But there’s no reason why someone like that would be after us. I bet all kinds of people had weird dreams when that meteorite fell in the northern Frontier. That’s just how dreams are. Even supposing someone were after us, what would that have to do with that meteorite? You mean to say these are assassins from the stars? And you don’t find that strange?”
“That’s why I asked if you’d been having them too, Matt.” “Nope. Not at all.”
“Well, I’m glad then. It must just be me.”
Sue leaned back against the door. From her expression it was clear that the anxiety hadn’t left her. But the quiet girl was relieved for the rest of her family.
Matthew was going to ask her about whether their mother had the dreams or not, but then thought better of it. Just let sleeping dogs lie, he thought.
Climbing off his bed, he went over to his younger sister and took her hand. “Go to bed already. Dreams end as soon as you wake up. And even if you don’t wake up, a knight will come to your rescue on a white steed.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Sue said, smiling. Her smile was truly heartbreaking. The bastard Fate had plenty of pain in store for her, and the girl undoubtedly knew that better than anyone.
“Sue,” he called out to her, and her expression changed.
She had the kind of eyes that people always complimented, saying they looked like they were full of dreams. It wasn’t her brother that they now reflected; it was a figure standing outside the window.
Not bothering to see if the reflection was that of a man or a woman, Matthew turned around. The glass revealed only darkness.
Shaking his sister by her shoulders to bring her back from her mannequin-like state, Matthew asked, “Was there someone there?” “A woman,” Sue replied, the words like a gasp. “A really beautiful, but really terrible, woman. She’s one of them. She’s out to get us. I couldn’t see her face clearly in my dreams, but now I know it’s her.” “Go back to your room. Lock your door and windows, and keep some amulet grass with you. You’ve got a bolt gun, right?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not scared at all,” Sue told him, her hand over her heart to vouchsafe the statement. If he had touched it, Matthew was sure he would have felt it hammering like a broken bell, but he hugged his little sister for being so intolerably dear, fragile as a piece of spun glass and yet tough at the same time.
Tucking a hatchet and some rough wooden stakes in his belt, he went outside. Thanks to a pair of starlight goggles, he could see fine. Stars filled the sky above his head. But Matthew couldn’t look up at them—the starlight goggles took the light from those stars and amplified it, turning night to day. If he were to look at an ordinary light source with them, it would sear his retinas in an instant, blinding him. Though he checked around the main house, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
He headed toward the barn. Packed full of cultivators and automated planters, machinery for repairing farm implements, gunpowder, and all sorts of chemicals, the eighteen-hundred-square-foot structure was less than two minutes from the main house. All that stood between the two buildings was an old well.
When he reached the entrance to the barn, Matthew halted. Putting his hand against the door, he pushed. Since he’d oiled the hinges just the day before last, it opened smoothly.
The barn was choked with darkness. He drew his hatchet, and then adjusted his grip on it. In a flash he thought, Maybe somebody’s hiding right behind the door, and then he had to check. He slipped into the gap behind the door. And then someone appeared.
“What the hell?” he cried out in a hushed tone, stopping his raised hatchet in midair.
“Easy there,” said a terribly familiar voice.
“Mom—what are you doing out here at this hour?”
“I saw something strange. But there’s no one in the barn.”
Across her muscular and hardly motherly arms rested a sawed-off shotgun. She’d gone out into the perilous night without saying a word to her children.
That’s just like her, Matthew thought, trying to hide the fire in his heart as he said, “Don’t do stuff like this, Mom. When you don’t come to me for something like this, it’s like you don’t think I’m capable of handling it myself.”
The boy’s mother looked at him with pride, but her face soon grew stern. When he got up to mischief or talked back to her, that face meant he had a slap coming, and
if he’d caused trouble for anyone else, that got upgraded to a punch.
“Don’t be stupid. It’ll be years before you’re ready for this,” she said, giving her son a sharp look as the two of them stepped outside. Matthew closed the door.
“Well, I say we head back to—” he began to say, and then he noticed that his mother had frozen. He looked in the same direction.
Beside the well stood a woman in a white dress. It left the better part of her bosom prominently displayed, was cinched tight around her hips, and had a wide, bell-shaped skirt. It was the sort of fancy attire the Nobility wore to a ball.
“Adele Dyalhis and her son Matthew,” the woman remarked as she stared at them with glowing eyes. Her eyes had a golden sparkle, and the moonlight played across her blond hair as if it were the Milky Way.
The woman stepped forward.
“Keep away from us,” the mother said, leveling her shotgun. She had probably loaded it with the same triple-ought buckshot as always. At this range, it could easily blow something the size of a person’s head to pieces. “We’re just the caretakers. The family that
lives here’s off on a trip. Won’t be back until next year. What did you want from them?”
“Their lives,” the woman said, grinning. Her smile was as still as a wintry night, and it left the mother and son feeling just as chilled. “I have come here to give you new life. If you would be so kind as to dispose of that gun.”
Her bright tone echoed alluringly through their heads. Matthew and his mother both closed their eyes. The woman’s golden gaze was emblazoned on their retinas. The mother slowly lowered her gun. Matthew couldn’t move his hands.
“Come to me,” the woman said, beckoning them with her hand. Like marionettes on invisible strings stretching from her fingers, the mother and son walked with unsteady steps to the woman. First the woman looked at Matthew, and then she shifted her eyes to his mother.
“You poor thing,” she said, but her sarcastic remark swayed with pity. “These countless wrinkles, sagging flesh, and hardened gaze—all are products of the curse called aging. You must’ve been stunning when you were young. Now you shall reclaim the beauty of your youth.” Extending her pale forefinger, she slid it from the mother’s chest all the way down to her belly, and the front of her shirt split down the middle. Adele didn’t have anything on underneath. The other woman’s hand brushed along her full breasts.
“Oh, what a fine chest you have. I can tell how nice and full of blood it is. Human blood is hot. All of my kind yearn for it. And I intend to drain it from right here.”
Her hand came away from Adele’s breasts, creeping across the mother’s skin like some exquisite insect until it’d climbed to the nape of her neck. A finger merely scratching the surface was enough to make the mother pant faintly.
“Do you see how blood traces blue lines through my pale skin? You’ll do well to remember where they are."
And then the woman pressed her vermilion lips against the nape of Adele’s neck. From the space between those luscious and monstrous lips and the graceful neck there came a retching sound. Matthew and his mother backed away, while the woman staggered about with both hands pressed to the left side of her chest. From between her fists, the bloodied end of a wooden stake jutted.
“Damn you ... Who ...
As the woman tried to turn, she was caught by the hair and yanked toward the well. Making no show of resistance at all, her body was dragged down into it. As Matthew and his mother looked at each other, they heard a splash.
“That woman’s a Noble, Matthew!”
“I know. But what happened to her? And who’s responsible?”
Matthew gripped his hatchet, and his mother quickly scooped up the shotgun.
Something shiny had risen to the well’s surface. It spilled over the rock edge and spread out at the pair’s feet. Water. There was no time to be surprised by it, for an alluring female shape had risen from the depths that even now continued to flow over the edge. She had golden tresses that hung down to her waist, a white dress, and features so lovely they seemed to put the moonlight to shame. However, it wasn’t the same beauty who had just been there. Her dress was so sheer, it let every maddening curve of her body be seen. What’s more, she only had one good eye.
“Who—who the hell are you?”
As Matthew raised his hatchet high, the woman’s lips formed the words, “You’re Adele Dyalhis and Matthew Dyalhis, aren’t you? My name is Lucienne. I’ve come here on orders from a certain esteemed personage.”
The droplets that fell without end from her hair and her chin were jewels with all the luster of moonlight. The way she’d made her appearance and the might she’d displayed in dispatching the Noblewoman said it all: this was the same water witch who’d done battle with D by daylight at the great river, being struck twice with his blade before making her escape—Lucienne.
Even the eerie aura billowing at them must’ve carried molecules of water, because droplets formed on the faces of mother and son, and Adele had to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Take Sue and get outta here!” she shouted.
“No, Mom, you take her and run. I’ll handle this on my own.”
“This freak destroyed a Noble. There’s no way you’d be able to do anything against her. Go!”
“The hell I will!”
Digging his feet into the now mucky earth, Matthew charged forward.
The woman touched back down on the ground. The thin little smile she donned was cold enough to make the boy feel as if his heart would freeze solid. Grunting, he swung his right arm down with all his might. He was aiming for the woman’s head. Finding its mark, the blade sank into her, and then his hand—followed by his shoulder and the rest of his body—pushed through her. Matthew came out behind the woman covered with thousands of beads of moisture and feeling like he’d taken a tunnel through the water.
Twisting his body as he fell forward, he put both hands out to pick himself back up as he exclaimed, “I went right through her. She’s made of water!”
“Out of the way!” Adele cried, not even waiting for Matthew to run before she pulled the trigger.
There was a boom like a rumble rising from the earth, and then Lucienne’s head blew to pieces. Barely straightening herself up again after the weapon’s kick sent her reeling backward, Adele turned the gun with a second shot in its left barrel toward the woman, who stood stock still.
From the base of Lucienne’s neck, a transparent lump had risen. In no time, it took on eyes and a nose, a silvery hue coursed into it, and then golden hair flowing in the breeze completed the woman’s lovely face. Lucienne grinned smugly.
Despite the blood-chilling horror climbing her spine, Adele fired the second shot. The gun made an unsatisfactory sound, and black smoke curled from its barrel. It had misfired.
The water witch laughed without making a sound.
“It wasn’t natural conditions that made your powder wet. It was my power. Perhaps I should use it to turn you and your son into mere bags of skin to hold the water that is so dear to me.”
Lucienne took a gliding, smooth step forward.
Matthew grabbed her around the waist. “You goddamned freak! Run for it, Mom!”
The arm he’d wrapped around the witch sank deep into her waist. Once Lucienne’s right hand had gone through her solar plexus and out her back, it caught Matthew by the scruff of his neck and jerked him forward. Though Matthew’s flailing hands went through her arms, the hand the woman clamped on his neck was as solid as iron.
“I’ll start with your dutiful son.”
As the woman said this, her left hand went down Matthew’s throat.
Matthew coughed. Crystal-clear water spilling from his mouth and nose, the boy writhed. In the moonlight—on dry land—the young man was on his way to drowning.
“Stop it!”
Discarding her shotgun, Adele drew a knife from the leather sheath on her belt. With a blade eight inches long, the knif
e was one she always kept close while she slept, and such weapons were absolute necessities on the Frontier. Realizing that she was inviting the same fate as Matthew, the mother still knew neither fear nor hesitation. Raising her knife, she dashed into action.
But a strange thing happened right in front of her. Something white, like a sort of fog, enveloped Lucienne. Letting out a scream that sounded like her throat was being crushed, the water witch writhed. Her arm slipped out of Matthew’s mouth and the boy’s head passed through her body as he hit the ground on his back. As Lucienne squirmed, the eyes and nose left her face, her arms fused
with her torso, and her legs melded together. Barely retaining the shape of a human body, the watery mass remained shrouded in the glowing fog as it bounded toward the well, then fell again as if the last of its strength had been spent. Perhaps freed from the bonds of the fog, the woman who’d turned into water rained down into that dark hole like a waterfall.
Neither Adele nor Matthew could make a move. The weirdness they’d witnessed was far beyond the bounds of what the psyches of even two iron-willed Frontier natives like these could bear.
The fog was changing. It took on the general shape of a person. Four limbs formed, and blond hair swayed. A Noblewoman in a white dress stood quietly before the pair.
“That was an arrogant thing for a servant of the Nobility to do. Did she think a lackey could actually best a master?”
Turning to the pair, her vermilion lips poised to form a smile, the woman noticed the cause of the mother and son’s shock. The tip of a tree branch protruded from the left side of her chest. The woman’s smile became a wry grin as she grabbed one end of the branch and pulled it forward. Though there was the sound of tearing flesh, her expression betrayed no discomfort. Unless she’d been stabbed through a vital point, she wouldn’t feel any pain. However, wasn’t the left side of the chest—and the heart within it—supposed to be the Nobility’s one great weakness?
“I shall deal with that woman later.”
Vampire Hunter D 16: Tyrant's Stars Page 6
