The Vampire War

by Eric S. Brown

  Ringer backed away from Mavet, allowing the vampire god to slump down the wall to the floor. Mavet stared up at him, eyes burning red. Ringer made the mistake of looking into them, and he felt Mavet’s vampiric telepathic claws tearing at his mental shields. Then it was Ringer who stumbled backward in retreat, raising his arms to cover his face as he fought desperately to keep Mavet out of his mind. Ringer was no telepath, but neither was he just an ordinary human. His mental defenses were far greater than the average person’s, and they’d been honed by Abby and Tonya Bellmore. Even so, Ringer found himself in a fight for his very life. If the vampire god got into his head, Ringer knew he wouldn’t live through the experience.

  Katherine saved Ringer. She’d picked up both of the swords Mavet had dropped when Ringer hit him and threw one of them at the vampire god. It flew through the air like a spear, sinking into the soft flesh of Mavet’s throat. The vampire god jerked it out, flinging the weapon away, slicked with his blood.

  Mavet rose from the floor fully healed, except for the freshly inflicted wound to his throat, and even that was closing before Katherine’s eyes. Most vampires couldn’t easily heal wounds caused by silver, but Mavet was not truly a vampire anymore. He was the patient zero that had given birth, in a manner of speaking, to all vampires.

  “I grow weary of this fight, little one,” Mavet said, walking calmly toward her.

  “Too fragging bad,” Ringer snarled, having recovered from Mavet’s telepathic attack. The telekinetic hit the vampire god with a blast of mental power that nearly blew his entire body apart. Mavet flopped to the floor like a broken puppet whose strings had been severed. The vampire god lay there twitching for the briefest of moments before his body dissipated into a mist that spread outward across the room.

  “What the hell?” Ringer blurted out as Mavet reformed right in front of him, once again entirely healed, and unscarred by the damage that had been done to him. Ringer’s personal defensive shield was all that saved his life as Mavet landed a punch to his chest that otherwise would have shattered his ribs. Even so, the shield buckled inward, bruising Ringer as he was knocked into a nearby desk. The desk broke apart under him as he landed on it, and Ringer went sprawling to the floor.

  “Come on, Scott,” Katherine pleaded under her breath. “Wake up! We need you!”

  Mavet moved to finish Ringer, grabbing the stunned telekinetic by his neck and jerking him up from the floor. Ringer’s legs kicked in the air as Mavet raised him even higher and held him there as if he were nothing. Katherine was already moving, running at Mavet, but this time the vampire god was prepared for her attack. Thrusting his other hand, palm open, in her direction, Mavet barked an ancient arcane word. A bolt of crackling black power erupted from the palm of his hand to meet Katherine. The bolt hit her dead on and burned her flesh like cold lightning. Katherine screamed as her body jerked and spasmed, entire sections of her skin melting away. She fell onto her hands and knees, letting go of her sword, barely able to even think from the amount of pain she was in.

  Katherine tried to get her feet. She made it part of the way up, then toppled back onto the floor. Her wounds weren’t healing. Whatever magic Mavet had used on her had done real damage, beyond the ability of her half-vampire regenerative powers to repair. Tears of red leaked from her eyes as Katherine gritted her teeth and tried again.

  Having dealt with Katherine, Mavet turned his head toward Ringer and spoke a similar arcane word before the telekinetic could concentrate enough to tear him apart. At the sound of the word, Ringer’s eyes rolled up into his head, and he sank into a heavy sleep. His body hung limply above the floor with the vampire god’s fingers still tight about his neck.

  “You two are the last,” Mavet purred. “I do believe I will take my time with each of you and truly enjoy your pain. What sweet music your screams will be.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 37

  Scott had watched it all from inside the Omega Psi-mech as he continued to struggle against the vampire god’s mental hold on him. The dark tendrils of vampiric power in his head had weakened during Mavet’s battle with the others, but they remained too powerful for him to shake them off on his own. They prevented him from moving or using any of the Omega Psi-mech’s weapons, but he found he could still access the rest of the suit’s systems. Scott tried to see if there was something, anything, he could do to help him escape the mental captivity the vampire god had placed him in.

  Scott jerked as a pulse of energy surged into his body from the neural interface on the back of his neck that linked him to the Omega Psi-mech. The energy pulled at his consciousness as Scott thrashed about in the pilot compartment. When he opened his eyes, Scott wasn’t in the mech anymore. He found himself floating in a world of particles, quarks, and streaming data. Scott felt weightless, as if he was in zero G. Everything around him was so bright, it took his eyes a moment to adjust. Scott gawked at the sheer intensity of it all.

  “Hey, Scott,” Hank said.

  Scott shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. Hank floated in the menagerie of colors and energy. The tele-mechanic looked perfectly fine for a guy who was supposed to be dead.

  “Hank?” Scott asked. “Is that really you?”

  The tele-mechanic chuckled. “More or less.”

  “Where the hell are we?” Scott’s mind was still trying to process the insanity he’d been dragged into.

  “Hank-space,” the tele-mechanic answered smugly. “You like it?”

  Scott scowled at Hank. “No, really, Hank. Where are we?”

  “Your body is still inside the Omega Psi-mech, Scott,” the tele-mechanic explained, “but I was able to pull enough of your consciousness here for us to talk for a bit. This place…” Hank waved a hand at the energy surrounding them, “well, this place is what you read about in cyberpunk novels. I hate the name cyberspace, though. It just doesn’t sum up how beautiful and awe-inspiring things are here.”

  “So you named it Hank-space!” Scott laughed. “Man, your ego…”

  Hank shrugged. “I call them as I see them…most of the time, anyway.”

  “Why did you bring me here, Hank?” Scott frowned. “Katherine and Ringer are getting the hell beat out of them right now by Mavet back in the real world.”

  “Hey, who said this world isn’t real? You’re here, aren’t you?” Hank snorted.

  “For all I know, I passed out from trying to break loose from whatever whammy Mavet hit me with, and I’m dreaming all this,” Scott countered.

  “You’re not,” Hank assured the pilot. “This is all real, and so I am.”

  “We thought you were dead, Hank,” Scott told the tele-mechanic.

  “I suppose I am, in the sense you mean, Scott,” Hank admitted. “Mavet teleported onto the Cerebus. Things didn’t go very well for me after that.”

  “I’m so sorry, man,” Scott said.

  Hank shrugged again. “Don’t be. While that bastard was stealing my thoughts and memories, I downloaded myself into the Cerebus’ systems and then sent myself here inside the Omega Psi-mech. I designed it to have ample room for me in its main operating computer, just in case, you know? I wanted a safety net in case something did get me one day.”

  “I…I didn’t know you could do that. I don’t think anyone did. Not even Tonya and Ms. Grimm,” Scott blurted out.

  “Man, I wasn’t even sure I could, but when a vampire is raping your mind and turning you into a mental vegetable, that’s some powerful motivation to try something new,” Hank admitted. “And hey, it worked! Here I am.”

  “I’m not even going to pretend I understand any of this,” Scott said.

  “I know you’re a metal fan and this isn’t your genre of music, but do you remember the song Virus by Duran Duran? That’s me now, Scott. I’m the world’s ultimate computer virus.” Hank grinned.

  “Frag, Hank,” Scott stared at him. “So you’re really dead, aren’t you?”

  “Try to listen closer to what I am saying,
Scott, okay?” Hank said. “I’m very much still alive; I’m just not human anymore. With all the weird and crazy things you’ve seen…and killed over the years, this shouldn’t be too hard to get. I’m a virus now, Scott, a living one. I know you’ve seen the movie Tron. I made you watch it once. Well, think of me as the Tron program, if that helps.”

  “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Scott shook his head in disbelief.

  “Sure!” Hank smiled. “I’m free… and I imagine pretty much immortal now.”

  “I’m happy for you, Hank, but…” Scott started.

  “But Katherine and Ringer need you,” the tele-mechanic finished for him. “That’s why I brought you here, buddy. I can get you loose from the hold Mavet has on you.”

  “You can?” Scott asked, wondering what the catch was.

  “I can, but it’ll hurt like hell,” Hank told him. “I’ll be careful not to let it kill you, though, if you agree to let me do it.”

  “What are you talking about, Hank?” Scott was sure he really didn’t want to know, but he needed to.

  “Your nervous system is directly linked into the Omega Psi-mech, Scott,” Hank reminded him. “That’s how I was able to bring you here where we could talk. I can use that link to hit your mind with a blast of data that will pulverize Mavet’s hold on you. So long as it doesn’t fry your mind, you’ll be loose and in place to kick that bastard’s butt. And trust me, that suit I gave you can do it, too, Scott.”

  “I don’t have a choice, do I?” Scott asked.

  “Not if you want to get into the fight, Scott,” Hank sighed.

  “Okay,” Scott reluctantly agreed. “Do it then, but first I have to ask, will I ever see you again?”

  “Like this?” Hank’s expression was odd as he spoke. “I doubt it, but never say never. I’ll be around though. You don’t think I’m quitting the company just because I died do you?”

  Scott laughed. “I guess not.”

  “Brace yourself, Scott. I wasn’t lying when I said this was going to hurt,” Hank assured him.

  Scott’s entire world went white. His screams echoed inside the pilot compartment of the Omega Psi-mech as his brain felt like it had been doused in napalm.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 38

  Glen sat in the patrol car watching people pass by on the street. It was a hot and muggy night. The car’s AC was on, but Glen had the window down anyway. He was fresh out of the academy, and this was only this fourth night out. His partner, Cook, was a nice enough guy, but the two of them just weren’t hitting it off very well. Like so many other people in his life, Glen could tell his partner thought he was an oddball. Glen couldn’t help it that he saw things differently than most people. He’d always just been like that. The only person in his life he’d ever truly gotten on with well was his uncle. They’d never talked about what set them apart from other people, but Glen firmly believed his uncle had suffered from the same affliction he did.

  Somewhere out there in the city night, something huge was taking place. Glen didn’t know what it was, but he could feel it in his bones. Large amounts of power were being thrown about. The sort of power most folks didn’t believe existed, but Glen knew they did. Glen had seen ghosts. He’d seen demons that wore the skins of human beings. Out of the corner of his eye, once, he’d even seen a shape-changer. They were just as real as he was. Of course, Glen had kept those things to himself. He didn’t want to lose the badge he’d worked so hard to obtain or be locked away in an asylum’s padded cell.

  Cook emerged from the Chinese restaurant their patrol car was parked in front of carrying a large bag. He walked around the car and slid into its driver seat, shoving the bag into Glen’s hands.

  “They didn’t have Sushi, kid,” Cook grunted. “Guess tonight just isn’t your night.”

  Glen rubbed at the bruise on his chin and found he couldn’t really argue that point. The mugger they’d almost caught an hour back had turned the tables on him as Glen caught up to him, landing a roundhouse punch that had put the young rookie on his butt. The same power Glen felt from far off now had distracted him and given the jerk an opening despite his training.

  Opening the bag, Glen passed Cook a box of shrimp fried rice and dug out a box of chicken fried rice for himself. They ate in silence, listening to the chatter over the car’s radio. A lot was going down in the city this evening. It was as if something was making all the whackos go even crazier.

  “Car 316, please respond,” a voice called over it, and Cook leaned forward to grab the radio.

  “Central, this is Car 316,” Cook answered.

  “There’s an 11-60 in the warehouse district, multiple10-80s reported,” the dispatcher informed them. “Be advised, you are the closest vehicle and will be arriving first on scene. Proceed with caution.”

  Cook gave Glen a sharp look. “That sounds like some heavy crap going down, kid. You sure you’re up for it?”

  Glen shoved what was left of his food back into the carryout bag and set it on the floorboard. “If I’m not, what are you going to do? Let me out on the street here to walk back to the station?”

  “Good point,” Cook snorted. “Buckle up, kid, we’re rolling hot.”

  Cook switched on the patrol car’s lights and sirens as he pulled out into traffic. The address of the warehouse where everything was taking place had downloaded onto the screen of the small computer that sat between them. Glen was still learning the city, but if he remembered correctly, the place was near the docks and totally in the middle of nowhere.

  They were out of traffic as soon Cook took the exit leading to the district they were headed for. There were no cars or people out walking on the road as they drove closer and closer to the docks. Glen didn’t have a clue what to expect when they got there. 10-80 was the call sign for an explosion and 11-60 meant an attack in a hazardous area. What scared him, though, was he could feel the huge event taking place getting closer and closer as well. The disturbance they were headed for and the event had to be one and the same. He considered telling Cook about what he was feeling but thought the better of it. The senior officer wouldn’t have believed him, anyway.

  Parking the patrol car on the curb outside the warehouse where the stuff was supposed to be going down, Cook turned to him. “Break out the shotgun, rookie.”

  “What?” Cook asked when Glen didn’t started moving. The feeling of power inside the warehouse was so intense it was almost making him sick.

  “Nothing.” Glen shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  “You better be, kid,” Cook snarled, getting out of the car and drawing his pistol from the holster on his hip.

  Glen got the shotgun and pumped a round into its chamber, following Cook toward the warehouse. Strange red light was pouring out of it from a hole in its wall. The wall looked as if something had been smashed through it.

  “What the…?” Cook whispered as they moved, not for the warehouse’s main entrance, but the hole the red light was coming from.

  Cook took the lead, going in first, but Glen was right on his heels. The room they entered was like something out of a science fiction movie in terms of its technology, but the entire place was trashed. The smell of blood and human entrails filled the air. A giant gleaming robot-looking thing stood like a statue to one side of the room, and on the other was a pale-skinned man dressed in black, holding another man off the floor by his neck. A woman who looked badly injured was crawling toward the man in black, and another woman, who was clearly dead, lay not far from her. The entire top half of her body had been cut in half along its middle. That explained the smell of the place. Glen could see her ruptured guts spilling out from where he stood.

  Rushing forward, Cook leveled his pistol at the man in black. “Put him down, you fragger, or I’ll put a bullet in you.”

  Glen backed Cook up, aiming his shotgun at the man in black. His hands were trembling as he held the weapon, though. Glen knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the man in black wasn’t
human. The wounded woman wasn’t either, at least not entirely, but it was his duty to help her. Heck, the other man reeked of psychic power, too. The only trace of humanity Glen felt in the vast room was coming from the robot thing, and that made no sense at all.

  “Ah, police officers,” the man in black said with a chuckle. “How quaint.”

  “I said put him down!” Cook yelled.

  The woman who had been crawling toward the man in black cocked her head to look at Glen.

  “Frank?” she blurted out, taken completely by surprise.

  Her expression, how she looked at him, creeped Glen out. Frank had been his uncle’s name.

  “That’s it,” Cook growled and opened fire. Careful not to hit the victim the perp still held above the floor with one hand, Cook put a trio of rounds into the man in black. Each bullet was dead on target. They tore through the man in black’s chest, punching holes in it. The man in black didn’t flinch. Ever so calmly, he looked down at his already healing wounds and then back at Cook.

  The man in black let the guy he was holding drop to the floor and leaped at Cook. He moved with such speed that he crossed the distance between them before Cook could even get off a fourth shot. Slapping Cook’s pistol from his hands, the man in black yanked the senior officer to him, bending his head back to expose his neck. Glen saw a flash of fangs before they sank into Cook’s throat. The senior officer’s body jerked about as he struggled against the hold the man in black had on him. That struggle ended quickly, Cook’s body going limp in the man’s arms. The man flung Cook’s corpse away and looked up at Glen. His lips were smeared with blood, and his eyes burned a bright, supernatural shade of red.

  “You…” Glen stammered keeping his shotgun aimed at the monster in black clothes. “You’re a vampire.”

  “No. I am a god,” the snarling thing told him.

  Glen squeezed his shotgun’s trigger. It bucked in his hands, thundering, as his shot slammed into the vampire thing, blowing its head into bloody pulp and fragments of bone. Its headless body flopped over onto the floor.