"You fed it!"
"I had to see the effect feeding would have. We tossed a little bag of blood into the shelter during the day and videotaped the results." Perlman stared at the table moodily. "It was a little boy. But after two feedings he was so much stronger and dangerous that we … put him out of his misery this morning."
Alex was silent as his stomach twisted in protest at the dark idea swelling in his mind. The thought had a thousand razored edges that still couldn't prevent him from reaching for the one chance that he might—
"Deb will probably come to the Daley Center tonight," he said hoarsely. "We could catch her."
—see her again.
"All right." McDole looked at the group. "Are we ready? Do we have everything? We can't come back." Alex glanced at the others and tried to think logically about what he was carrying and what he would need. He couldn't; eclipsing everything was the memory of Deb as she had been yesterday morning. Would she still look the same? Would she talk to him, or would she be more beast than human? Would she even come?
He forced his sickly, hung over thoughts back to the present: McDole, C.J., the dangerous-looking teenager who'd helped bring him here, and Elliot, a sturdy-looking blond man in his mid-twenties. Although C.J. had a compound bow, they weren't carrying much else in the way of weapons, and for that Alex was grateful. Alex had refused to bring the Winchester, but Elliot carried a gun, a heavy blue .357 to be used only in the worst emergency. Their agreed goal was to capture Deb alive as quietly as possible, then be back at Water Tower by seven in the morning so everyone here would know the group was safe. Seeing was going to be a problem; while the sky was clear, there would only be a quarter moon, not enough light to help anything. Each had a small flashlight, but they didn't dare bring anything too bright. Stuffed inside McDole's backpack were dark green trash bags and several rolls of duct tape, along with a coil of nylon rope and a folded canvas tarp. Alex tried to keep himself from picturing Deb wrapped and bound in plastic and nylon rope, then hidden under the canvas; he didn't want to know what the duct tape was for.
McDole glanced at him and Alex nodded, then followed the men out the Michigan Avenue entrance. He would've never guessed a group of people this size could live together safely in one place, or even that this many people still lived at all. His eyes followed the marble front of the building up to its roofline and gave him a rush of dizziness as a result. The doctor had promised Alex would be well enough to be of use tonight, and also assured him that the walk itself would help clear his head. Concentrating on his steps, Alex willed himself not to think of the black side of his little dream, the chance that Deb would become nothing more than a vicious animal subjected to Perlman's experiments. Could he live with himself, knowing he had set her up for this?
And what would he do if they had to kill her?
6
REVELATION 6:4
And there went out another horse that was red;
and power was given unto him to take peace from the earth.
That woman was staring at her again.
Louise shifted uncomfortably on the carpeting, then stood and went to the window. She couldn't see much of Michigan Avenue, and certainly not all the way to Daley Plaza, where C.J. and the others, including the drunken man they'd found this morning, had gone for the night. In another half hour the people here would move to the center of the building where life-signs couldn't be detected from the outside. A shudder danced along the muscles of her shoulders and she asked her question without turning.
"Do you think they'll be all right?" Louise's voice was too loud and the six or seven people in the room started. Most bent back to their tasks, and Louise took it as a bad omen that no one offered immediate reassurance. When she turned to face them, Evelyn was knitting something for her unborn baby, fingers working steadily. The other woman, Kate, was buried in a book called Organic Gardening and absently twisting her yard-long red hair. Calie was the only one who didn't have anything else on which to concentrate except Louise, and it was she who finally answered.
"They'll be fine." Her gaze stalled on Louise once more, then moved to a spot on the ceiling.
"Good evening, ladies. Almost time to turn in, isn't it?" Perlman's voice was cheerful but his face was grim and tired as he limped to a seat on the couch next to Calie.
The woman brightened. "How're you doing? Any progress?"
He shook his head and spread his hands. "I told you it would take time. With this kind of equipment, who knows? Things'll be better when the guys come back with this vampire."
"Why do they have to go there?" interjected Kate. The gardening book forgotten, her tone was tight with worry "Why not just catch one in our own neighborhood during the day?"
"Because"—all eyes turned to Calie—"they hope—and they realize it’s farfetched—that the woman they're going after will recognize Alex and cooperate."
Evelyn snorted. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You talk as though this vampire still has a heart, or a soul, or whatever you want to call it." Her fingers snagged in her rhythm and she muttered impatiently. "Why couldn't they go in the daytime?"
"They don't know where she sleeps," Dr. Perlman explained. "And if Alex isn't there tonight, she'll probably never be found again."
"They should've waited and searched for her when it’s safe, anyway," said Kate. "This is way too dangerous." She looked at all of them. "What if they don't come back?"
"They will," Calie said confidently. Her face still betrayed her concern.
"We don't have the time to hunt all over downtown," Perlman said. "If there's a chance this woman will cooperate and cut some of the research time, we've got to try it."
"What kind of work are you doing?" Louise asked timidly.
He answered readily. "I'm trying to develop a bacteria that will kill the vampires, but so far everything is killed by the vampire instead of the other way around."
Louise knew her next statement might damage any chance of these people accepting her, but it was too important to remain unspoken. "Why don't you …" Her words trailed off unwillingly. Louise didn't feel right here, didn't feel welcome, especially by Calie. Calie's behavior had deteriorated, and while she wasn't rude or mean, Calie was … aloof, as though she was trying to gently "cut" Louise from the herd. The doctor was as friendly as when C.J. had brought her here, yet Louise hesitated.
"Why doesn't he what?" Kate looked at her curiously.
"It's all right, Louise," Calie said. "No idea is too outrageous to at least discuss."
Louise swallowed, feeling heat climb across her cheeks. "I just wondered if Jo could help somehow." Perlman rubbed the side of his nose, then cupped his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know," he said finally. "You're supposed to be open-minded," Calie chided.
"You shouldn't discount Louise's suggestion so quickly.”
“I'm not," the doctor protested. "l’ll be honest, I've been thinking about that since Louise's claim that Jo can heal. It’s just that …" He looked away.
"It's too fantastic," Louise finished for him. "Right?" He nodded reluctantly. "I know how it must sound, but I'm living proof that she's not a fake. She saved my life." Louise held up her hands. "But I wouldn't expect any of you to take my word for it. Just ask her."
"And you think we can find her?" Perlman questioned.
"Sure. She lives in St. Peter's."
"There's no harm in trying," Calie said.
“All right," Perlman said after a moment. "I'll go over there after—if—we get the new vampire settled. It's just that the concept is so irrational—"
"Irrational?" Calie was smiling widely.
Perlman looked flustered. "You know what I mean." He inclined his head toward Louise. "Or maybe you and C.J. can try to find her." Louise nodded as the group gathered their belongings. "Right now, it's time to put down." He gave them all a final, solemn glance. "I'm not a religious man, but if that brings you comfort and … belief, then remember our guys in your prayers tonight.
"
Deceptions
7
REVELATION 6:17
For the great day of his wrath is come;
and who shall be able to stand?
"So what's the plan?" C.J. asked. "It'd be pretty stupid to leave this door unlocked."
"We're not going to," Alex said. "Deb knows where I am. If she shows up, and if she's … changed, she'll find her own way in."
Great, C.J. thought. Deb knows where I am. Nothing like staying emotionally detached. They followed Alex inside and waited while he locked the door, then led them down a corridor to a stairwell door beside a bank of elevators. Another lock rattled and Alex swung the door open, its hinges making a loud and ear-stabbing screech. He gave them a grin that was still a little green. "My alarm. Ready to climb?" They started up without comment as he relocked the door then passed them, his legs conditioned to the stairs.
"How much farther?" McDole panted.
"Thirteenth floor" Alex tried to sound cheerful.
McDole groaned good-naturedly as their flashlights made small, bobbing circles with each step. "So," Elliot said after a few more flights. "These stairs must've been a pain in the butt."
"Not really." Alex's face was a gray and black shadow, his voice strained. "Normally it barely winds me. I figured the higher you were, the safer—especially with the vampires getting weaker. Here we go." Another door screamed in the darkness as though it had sand in its hinges. "Here's where I live, folks. Not much to see, I’m afraid."
C.J. stepped through cautiously, looking left and right along a dim inner hall before walking soundlessly on the parquet flooring to a better-lit outer corridor evenly spaced with northern windows, making a mental note that he was leaving the only close location of a stairwell. "What's above you?" he called back to Alex. "Have you ever been upstairs?"
"Yeah," Alex said as the rest joined C.J. "Nothing much different from here."
"The doors?" McDole wondered.
“All locked." Alex scrubbed at his face as they turned and moved toward the south end of the building. His eyes were bloodshot and watery with pain; he didn't look ready for a confrontation.
“And there's no one else in the building?"
Alex shrugged. "If there is, they're invisible or they move at night when I can't see them. I've never heard anything."
"I hate to break up the conversation," said C.J., "but darkness is a-coming. We'd better pick our places."
"C.J.'s right," McDole said. "Where would she expect to find you?"
Alex stopped at the doorway to a small office and stood there unsteadily. "Here," he said at last. "She'd probably look here first."
C.J. poked his head in and frowned when he saw the tiny office, bare except for a few miscellaneous items. "No way. There's no room in here to get clear if she—" McDole cleared his throat and C.J. blinked. "Uh—if we have to."
"Where else?" Elliot asked. He and McDole both looked unhappy with Alex's information. "Someplace a little bigger?"
"Yeah," Alex said. "Over here." They rounded another corner and found themselves facing the south wall. Heavy drapes covered most of the windows next to the bookcases; here and there Alex had cracked the material to let in the light.
"This is better," C.J. said. "That office back there is a death trap."
McDole turned from the windows and held up a clay pot. "Where did you get these flowers?"
Alex swallowed. "Deb and I found them in Marshall Field's," he answered quietly. He pulled a chair from under a desk and sat heavily. "It doesn't matter."
An uncomfortable silence fell, then C.J. clapped Alex on the shoulder and pointed at the ceiling. "Come on, guy. You ever been up there?"
Alex twisted his neck upward. "I told you already. All the doors—"
"Not upstairs, up there. In the ceiling." The teenager scrambled atop a desk and raised one of the large tiles in the dropped ceiling. "This is a great place to hide." C.J.'s voice was muffled by the layer of tiling as his hands groped overhead and found a hold. "I'm surprised you never thought of it."
Alex stood with McDole and Elliot and peered at C.J. as he hoisted himself into the hole. "What're you going to do if the ceiling collapses?" he called.
There was a few seconds of soft scuffling, then C.J.'s head poked out. "It won’t, as long as you make sure to put your weight where the supports are anchored into the main beams. Use your flashlight to find them." He glanced at McDole. "It ain't gonna be the most comfortable place in the world."
"I think I’ll stay down here," McDole said. He eyed Alex and Elliot. “Alex can go up over here," he pointed to one spot, then another. "C.J., you position yourself there." He turned to Alex. "You're positive the doors will make a warning noise?" Alex nodded. "Okay, then, two people up, two down." He studied the office area carefully, then pointed to an alcove created by a couple of filing cabinets. "I'll stay here, and Elliot can hide in the secretarial station at the corner. We should be able to hear her come in"—McDole glanced at Alex to be sure—"and see her when she gets here."
"Not much of a moon tonight," C.J. interrupted. "That'll be tough."
"We'll have to make do. Switch on the flashlights only if absolutely necessary, and then only for a second or two. If something else sees it …" He didn't have to finish.
"So we have her surrounded," Elliot said. "Then what?"
"Then we grab her, I guess." McDole's words made Alex's face go white. "The idea is to take her alive, right? Maybe we can talk to her."
C.J. let out a long breath. "Oh man, this is going to be a trick."
"We can do it," McDole said firmly. "If we all work together. We have to be able to count on each other at every second. There's no room for backing out, okay, Alex? Hesitate and someone could die." Alex nodded curtly.
McDole steeled himself. "Then everybody find your place and get comfortable." He looked at his watch.
"Four minutes until sunset."
8
REVELATION 14:7
For the hour of his judgment is come.
Darkness.
The last tendrils of light faded, drawing away all but a wisp of the day's warmth. This room, larger but unfamiliar, was closer to the outside walls of the building and the sweet pain of the sun; both he and the woman still felt its faraway kiss. Vic felt the micromovement of her skin as her eyelids opened, heard the whisper of her lashes in the blackness as she blinked. She paused, as though listening for something, and he tensed.
When she screamed, he was ready for it.
It took almost a quarter of an hour to soothe her hysteria. "It was only a dream," he murmured over and over, "that's all. Just a dream." The first nightsleep had been the worst for him, and for Deb, too; he tried to slip into her mind and help her through it, but he was a novice at creation and a bumbler at making decisions about other people's lives anyway.
"I couldn't hear my heartbeat," she sobbed. "I couldn't find it!"
"Shhhh, it's okay." Guilt weighed on him like a steel yoke and his lips pulled into a thin line. "It's okay," he said again, as though he were some kind of repetitious recording. She felt good in his arms, though he couldn't forget the lost heat of life within her flesh, now gone forever. But she was beautiful this way, too: her light blue eyes with faint traces of black-red lights dancing in their depths; china-white skin beneath the India ink spill of hair across her shoulders and down her back. The first time she fed, those stunning eyes would start a slow change to red, and eventually the once-sparkling blue would slip away for eternity.
Cradled in his arms, Deb finally stopped her tearless crying. He should have known she wouldn't be afraid; inside was much the same woman who'd faced them in the Art Institute, defiant and brave, stubborn as hell. Her gaze flicked around the room and rested briefly on the pillbox, then she pulled away and stood, her lovely face glowing like a ghostly death mask. She picked up the pillbox and studied it, then closed her fist around it. "I'm hungry," she said softly. Her eyes grazed him, then slid safely to a point above his he
ad.
Vic hadn't expected her to ask so soon. "I can take you to food," he offered. He tried to take her hand but she stepped out of his reach.
"Not that kind," Deb said. The fist clutching the pillbox made a hollow thunk as she smacked her breastbone. "I'm hungry here … Vic." There was the slightest hesitation as her memory supplied the new fact. "I want to hear the sound of my heart. I want to feel the rush of my own blood pulsing through my arteries. I want to be warm again!" She tossed the trinket at him and he caught it automatically, the cloisonné butterfly glimmering on his palm.
He turned his back and stared stonily at the wall. "I can't help you with that."
"Why did you do this to me?" she demanded. "You're not—" She stumbled, searching for the right word.
Vic whirled. "What? Normal?"
"Yes!" she shot back. "You're not like you're supposed to be! You don't like being what you are, so why did you have to make me like YOU?" Her voice was so full of anguish it was nearly a wail, and Vic fought the urge to cringe.
"Because I was … lonely," he whispered.
"You took my life because you were lonely?" The question was harsh and disbelieving. "I'd understand it better if you said you were hungry!"
"I thought you might stay with me," he pleaded. "I thought we could be—"
"What?" she asked. "A couple?" She turned away, her expression miserable. "Oh, I just don't believe this.”
“They would have killed you, or worse," he said. "Better that than this."
"You don't have any idea. There are worse things." He folded his arms.
"Being one of the fat man's playthings at least leaves hope!" She rolled her eyes at his startled look. "It's as easy for me to see into your mind as it was for you to poke into mine."
"It wasn't that easy."
"And it never will be," she snapped, "not as long as I have one ounce of—can you believe it! I almost said life!" Her shrill laughter teetered on the edge of control.
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