CHAPTER FOURTEEN
1.
Lisa’s belief system had to change. She’d grown up Catholic. Though she stopped attending church years ago—except for Christmas, because she enjoyed the choirs—she never stopped believing in God. The fundamental lessons she’d been taught as a child stayed with her.
There were ghosts and demons in the Bible, weren’t there? She wasn’t sure. Couldn’t name one. People had been brought back from death—not just Jesus. Had Lazarus been like the zombie last night, without a mind, bound to another’s commands? She didn’t think so. There were variations; she’d learned that much already.
Jack was still alive. He had to be. She had some small amount of time left before the creatures did anything with him. The vampire could have slit his neck there, dropped Jack dead to the sidewalk, but that’s not what happened. She took him. That had to mean something.
When Nick called the vaudoux, Lisa remained on one knee, fingers on the cold concrete. A shiver ran through her, fear and pain—not physical pain, but emotional, psychological, something deeper and more penetrating.
“Show yourself,” Nick said again.
Lisa didn’t think the vaudoux had been responsible. It didn’t feel right. The demon, the crimson-skinned giant, had directed the attack.
The wind gusted. The air warmed. The sky brightened while they waited. No one came. No puff of smoke, no smell of rotting flesh, no gnashing teeth, no vampire mistress, no vaudoux.
“The demon,” Lisa said. “Maybe there’s something more there.”
Nick didn’t stop her as she crossed the street, but didn’t follow. He was scanning the rooftops, as if he possessed x-ray vision that would penetrate the bricks and find what he sought.
Remnants of clay clung to the wall and sidewalk, but most of it—and everything else—was gone. No rat, corpse, or batboy remained, and no demon.
When she stepped over the spot where the demon had stood, heat struck her—ten, twenty, maybe thirty degrees hotter. Her breath caught. Vision swayed. Red smoke curled around her, soft and caressing like a lover, covering her ears and muting all the sounds around her. The sulfuric scent burnt her nostrils. The world flickered: bits of flame and smoke, swatches of shadow, the hard concrete under her feet. Her vision funneled, white creeping in from the edges, and the ground rose to meet her.
She threw out her hands. She felt nothing, but heard a distant cackling, a manic and ceaseless laughter, muffled as if underwater.
Maybe, at death, life passed before your eyes. Lisa saw only Jack, heard only his voice, smelled only his scent (which was what, exactly? Cinnamon musk? Essence of dark?), and felt only his touch.
Then concrete under her cheek, cold and unforgiving. Tentatively, she opened her eyes, afraid to find fire and smoke.
A hand on her shoulder, another under her head, lifted her cheek off the hard ground. A deep voice, low and barely audible, said a name—hers—and said it again.
At first, she saw only light and dark, then shades between. Focus came slowly, revealing Nick Hunter—not Jack—mouthing her name but sounding so far away, then the street behind him, cars slowing on the road, faces staring, eyes wide but firmly of this earth.
She’d seen something. Her eyes burned with the vision. Her breath caught. She flung her hands up to cover her eyes, to hide what she’d seen, but too late.
“Lisa,” Nick said again, sounding more human and real, as if he might actually be next to her.
“What happened?” Her words came out slurred and broken.
“You fainted,” he said. “Fell. You tell me what happened.”
“Hot,” Lisa said. “I’m not sure, I can’t say, it was . . . hot. Smoky. The demon, Nick . . . I heard it laughing. Mocking. Pointing.”
“You saw it?” Nick asked, helping her sit up. The world swayed, but gently, nothing worse than the last time she’d gone out drinking and woke with drill teams marching across her eyes.
“Saw it,” Lisa said, “and fire, and . . . it was like a cave, a big cave, with rivers of lava and men impaled on stalagmites, blood dripping from the ceiling . . . but I didn’t see it, Nick, I didn’t see anything at all.”
“You only just fell,” Nick said. “Weren’t out for five seconds.”
“It felt longer than forever,” Lisa said.
“Jack,” Nick said. “The vampire. Did you see them?”
Ah. Yes. Lisa concentrated, daring to recall the image she hadn’t actually seen, the vision stuck in her mind like poison. It was like a snapshot, but the demon laughed. Smaller demons circled it—unimaginable beasts, horrid, twisted versions of reality, men and women chained to the walls by their hair, nails through their wrists, eye sockets empty. Souls stripped of flesh, muscles and sinews exposed, fighting to escape the molten river, each pushing others down to try to advance, each pushed down by others, and the dog-like lion-ish things that devoured any who reached the surface. Armies stood behind the demon, thousands and thousands assembled in formation, in a vast chamber filled with armored beasts and wicked blades that were like swords or axes.
Nick held her face, both cheeks, in warm hands. She withdrew from the nightmarish vision, the things she hadn’t really seen but felt and tasted and lived through.
He was saying her name. Shaking her gently.
“No,” she said, gripping Nick’s wrist, unable to stop the tears. “No, Jack wasn’t there. I didn’t see Jack.” She focused on Nick’s eyes, never noticing before how blue they were—like powder, like dust. She locked her gaze there, afraid to slip into that other world, that hallucination. Nick’s eyes were like the sky after noon, near evening but before dusk, flecked with snow, the eyes of a man who could be trusted and who meant what he said. A man driven, haunted and tortured, torn but determined.
“Good,” Nick finally said. “Then we only have to find the vampire. Can you stand?”
He helped her up. “I feel weak,” she said.
“You need food,” Nick said. “Then we find Jack.”
2.
The diner was long and narrow, set between two shops. Barely past 6, the restaurant was filled with people ending or beginning their days, all bleary-eyed and clutching big mugs of coffee. Two frantic waitresses ran to and fro, one girl manned the counter, and a kitchen area in the back housed at least two cooks. Either nothing else nearby was open, or the food was that good.
Nick led Lisa to one of the few open tables, then went to the counter to order them both fried eggs, toast and juice, and coffee for Lisa. They couldn’t afford to waste the daylight; if she insisted on helping, she’d need to stay awake and alert.
He brought Lisa the coffee and juice. She wrapped her hands around the coffee cup. “Thanks.”
“Food’s coming,” Nick said. “We’ll have maybe eleven hours of daylight. Plenty of time to find Jack, if there’s any trail.”
Lisa sipped the coffee slowly. Deliberately. She felt it slide down her throat and burn her stomach. No cream, no sugar; this was not the time. It was too hot, but very fresh. Other smells wafted around her: biscuits, cinnamon, eggs, grease. Fryers sizzled. Silverware clanked. Waitresses wiped down tables. Over everything, the smell of coffee was strong, and real, unlike anything she’d experienced overnight.
A number was called. “That’s us,” Nick said, getting up. Lisa opened her eyes and watched him approach the back counter. He passed a sea of unfamiliar faces. She was anonymous here, one of dozens or hundreds or thousands, yet privy to forgotten knowledge. All legends and myth had a basis in reality. They weren’t merely the opiate hallucinations of madmen.
A woman sat in Nick’s vacated chair and smiled. “I have something for you.”
“Who are you?” Lisa asked.
The woman shrugged. “Like you, I’m looking for someone.”
“What?”
“I’m . . . well, something like a witch. And I saw what happened. I went out for a walk, no particular destination, and there you were.” Her smile disappeared; she leaned closer,
grabbing Lisa’s hand. There was warmth there. “I think I’m close, but you’re right there, so I want to help.”
“How?” Lisa asked.
“My name’s Sara,” she said, holding out her other hand. She held a white bead. “I don’t know if it’ll help, but take it.”
“What is it?” The crystal glowed. Pulsated.
“A bead of light,” Sara said. “Never know when one might be useful.” She set the bead next to Lisa’s mug and stood.
“Wait,” Lisa said, grabbing Sara’s arm.
“That’s it,” Sara said. “I can’t take on your fight. I’ve got too much already.”
Sara was walking toward the door before Nick returned. He gave Lisa an egg sandwich, had another for himself. “Eat on the street,” Nick said. “Clock’s ticking.”
They left the diner just like anyone else, through the front door, without a single head turning to see who or what walked amongst them. In this case, they were hunters; but other times, the secret dark things mingling with them might be worse.
Hunter. Lisa didn’t like the designation, but it was apt. She’d become like Nick, not evil or dangerous, but bruised internally—and externally. She was fortunate the facial scratches hadn’t been too bad. The rest of the world was too absorbed by their own mundane lives—just as Lisa had been two days ago—to notice.
Outside, daylight filtered weakly through the clouds. The number of moving cars had doubled while they ate, and people walked everywhere.
“The clouds are a problem, aren’t they?” Lisa asked.
“Only a little,” Nick said, looking down the street. “The rain will be worse. Washes away scents.”
“Scents?”
“Vampires reek,” Nick said. “Putrid, like death, like rot. I can smell them.”
They were walking, across the street from the club. Nick pointed at the rooftop. “I would’ve gone higher rather than lower. Get as far away as possible. So there.” The club was near the corner; he pointed at the next building. “Then, maybe there.” A row of four and five story office buildings. “Then, either up higher, or continuing northward, or angling back, away to the west.”
Lisa stared for a moment. West of here, over the railroad tracks and across the interstate, was a residential neighborhood on the lower end of the economic scale. A lot of houses on their last legs were supported by concrete blocks. She avoided that district when she could, not interested in drugs or prostitutes, having no use for pawn shops, check cashers, or bail bondsmen.
North, the stores and shops eventually gave way to middle-class houses, maybe a step less affluent (and less pretentious) than the area surrounding Lisa’s apartment.
To go higher, the vampire couldn’t have taken Jack far in any direction other than up. Downtown was small, populated by maybe a dozen skyscrapers (or something like skyscrapers, infants compared to New York or Chicago’s skyline).
Any of the three choices would be a lot of area to cover. “Which?” Lisa asked.
Nick shook his head.
“You’re the hunter,” Lisa said. “Where is a vampire like that likely to hide during the day?”
“Anywhere,” Nick said. “But probably a cheap apartment. Motel. She wouldn’t be the type to just find a hole and make it home. She’ll actually live somewhere.”
“Then office buildings are out,” Lisa said. “This way.” She never went there at night, rarely during the day, but she knew where to find cheap apartments and motels.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
1.
It didn’t take long.
Nick caught the scent shortly after crossing under the interstate. The walk had been uneventful; they passed a police station, parking lot, and railroad tracks before going beneath I-4.
The streets thinned. The buildings grew more dilapidated. Roads and sidewalks were cracked, uneven, littered with random papers, plastic bags, and shattered glass. There were signs of renovation, but in its early stages.
They passed within sight of the arena and its parking garage, but kept south of it and walked into the heart of the residential district. There, near the burnt-out remains of a single-story apartment building, the deathly reek assaulted him.
A six-foot-high chain link fence protected the charred concrete. None of the wood had survived, apparently, and very little of the structure was lighter than charcoal. Three concrete buildings stood within the fence, all burned, with a sign: “Keep out, by order of the Orlando Fire Department.”
“Fireman training,” Nick said. “She’s in there.”
“You sure?” Lisa asked.
Nick shook his head. “I can’t say it’s definitely her, but it is vampire.”
Lisa inhaled deeply, loudly. “Yeah, I can smell it, too.”
Nick pulled two stakes from his jacket and gave them to Lisa. “You’ll need these,” he said. “Most effective through the heart. I’ll have to cut off her head after, but if you get the chance, pin her down.”
A thick, heavy chain locked the gate. Nick scaled it easily, quickly, barely making a sound. He hopped down on the other side, drew his gun, and forgot about Lisa as he settled into his regular routine. He heard her climbing behind him, but had already reached the doorway.
There was no door. The choice of such an open, exposed hideaway surprised Nick, but the scent definitely intensified at the doorway.
He stepped in gun first. He took in the front room quickly; there’d been no furniture when the place burned, or it had been cleared out. The ceiling was as charred as the walls and floor. He moved softly, slowly.
The front room was empty. Doorways led in two directions. He took the leftmost door first, finding only the blistered remains of a bathroom. Some wallpaper clung to the wall in flakes. The toilet had been removed, leaving only a hole and some pipes. The tub was cracked in the middle, but still white in some places.
A mirror had hung over the missing sink. It had been shattered, either before or during the fire; the pieces lay scattered on the floor, warped, more like a broken puddle than glass, black but still reflective.
He turned back to the front room. Lisa stood at the doorway, knife in one hand and stake in the other. She watched him, then looked to the other door.
Nick slid against the wall soundlessly and entered the hallway low. Little light reached here, coming mostly through a hole in the ceiling. It led to two rooms on the right, a kitchen area on the left.
Like the bathroom, the kitchen had been stripped to its pipes. The only cabinets were under the counter; there were no doors on their skeletons, and nothing within.
Down the hall, he had to pick a room. Lisa stayed close behind; he felt her breath, but she moved more stealthily than he’d expected. He chose the leftmost room, sticking with his pattern. He entered low, gun first. Almost no light reached him here; the windows, though without glass, had been blocked by cardboard and plywood—after the fire.
This was it. He smelled it.
He relaxed every muscle; years of experience prevented him from tensing at the wrong moment. He scanned quickly, his eyes enough adjusted to make out shapes and silhouettes within the shadows.
There.
Curled in the corner of the room like a baby, unmoving, sleeping like the dead. It wasn’t the beast they were looking for; this was too pale, naked, hairless. Its back faced them, but it was the wrong shape to be their quarry. Nick slipped a stake from his jacket as he advanced. Slow and cautious. They could wake; daytime didn’t leave them comatose.
He reached it, bent closer (always aiming the gun at its head, just in case), and plunged the stake into its back.
The thing shrieked. It shot up the side of the wall, crashed into the ceiling and fell back to the floor. It was hideous, its face deformed, eyes bulging, teeth sharp and crooked. Though black ooze spilled from its back, it reached for Nick.
He kicked the beast in the ribs and sent it back into the wall, driving the edge of the stake out through its chest.
“Knife,” Nick said, turni
ng to Lisa.
She wasn’t there.
2.
Lisa never followed Nick into the room. She had no grandiose ideas of checking out the other room on her own. Fit as she was, she had never trained with a knife. She didn’t know how she’d react if she stabbed something and its blood spilled over her—warm or cold.
So she watched Nick approach the vampire and, holding her breath, gripped the knife. When he staked it, the creature leapt, smashing the ceiling, knocking dust and ash from it. It squealed—and so, too, did something in the room behind Lisa.
There’d been two rooms at the end of the hall. Lisa slid into the hall, a step back from the two doorways.
“Knife,” Nick said. Calmly. Quietly. He hadn’t heard the other creature.
It shot through the hall, running straight across from the one room to the other, either ignoring or unaware of Lisa shaking in the hallway. It screeched, a vicious, ear-piercing sound of fury. This was female, naked and sickly white, hairless like the other, arms swinging wildly.
Lisa followed it in, hoping there wasn’t a third behind it. It leapt at Nick. He sidestepped, knocked it forward, but lost his gun in the same motion. The creature’s claws slashed down, maybe drawing blood. It was too dark for Lisa to be sure.
The thing spun quickly, attacking with both claws, face contorted with rage, spitting and hissing. Nick fell back, catching its hands, kicking with one leg as he rolled onto his back. He threw the creature over him; it crashed into the wall at Lisa’s right.
She swung the stake and knife together, burying both in the vampire’s chest and gut. It squealed, wriggled, lashed out. It smacked Lisa, throwing her into the doorjamb.
Then Nick rushed forward. He yanked the knife free and left the stake in the howling beast. The hunter slashed its throat. Thick fluid, black in the dark, spit out of its neck. Nick drove the knife deeper, severing the head.
The creature’s body slumped. But before Nick could turn, the first vampire, stake still protruding from its chest, grabbed him in a bear hug and rolled backwards to the floor. Nick cried out in pain; the beast screamed. They rolled toward the window.
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