Silver studied him warily. “I can’t quite imagine what it would feel like, but the thought makes my skin crawl.”
“I could make it so you felt nothing—or I could take the memory away and leave a hole in your time, or I could fill it with the illusion of a Hawaiian vacation.”
Silver pulled away and went around the counter into the kitchen to get more coffee. He came back chewing on one nail and stared out the sliding door to the patio. “I don’t want to lose the memory or remember something that didn’t happen. I want to feel and remember whatever happens to me. For me, life is to be lived, every detail of it, right to the end. And it should end all in God’s own good time.”
“If you like, I’ll show you what it’s like to be used.”
Back to the vampire, Silver whispered, “Okay. Do it.”
Malory closed his eyes and mentally reached for Silver, infiltrated his mind and took over his body. He made him walk back to the table, turn three times in place without sloshing the coffee, sit down, sip his coffee, and set the mug down without even rippling the surface. Then he made him grin and say, “That’s amazing!” Then Malory let go.
That was the mistake. At the sudden return to normal, Silver turned white, lips slightly green, and plunged into the kitchen where he stood gripping the sink and gasping as if expecting to heave up all the coffee he’d drunk.
Malory was beside him in a blink, knowing that if he suppressed the nausea, he’d turn the man against him forever. He’d had permission for one demonstration, not two. So he just held Silver close. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. Breathe deeply. Hang on and breathe. It’ll pass in a moment.”
And it did. Malory led him back to the table, explaining, “I let go too abruptly for you. Most people don’t react so violently. It won’t happen again.”
“Mal, I don’t think I can take that. Even before—everything came unstuck—it was awful. I wasn’t me. I even heard myself speak in my own voice, and it wasn’t me.”
His tone was the first indication Malory had that Silver had made up his mind to accept. “I can make it so you won’t feel a sense of being—invaded—out of control.”
Silver shook his head. “I don’t want—. Malory, if I don’t help you, what are you going to do?”
“I’m sworn. I will kill them—one way or another.”
“That’s another thing. I don’t want to kill anyone. I just want to put them in jail.”
“For murdering a dead woman? Whose remains don’t exist?”
“Yeah.” But he added, “Do you know how many times they jail the wrong person for murder, no matter how careful they are? How can we be sure we’ve got the right people?”
“I can identify the hit men. I only have to find them and discover who they work for. Then I’ve a plan, but I won’t tell you unless you’re with me—or I’d have to erase your memory to be sure it couldn’t be tortured out of you.”
His gaze went to the graying light behind the windows. “Oh, Lord, they could be out there. They could have followed you. They could be coming after us right now.”
“They didn’t. They aren’t.” At Silver’s look, he said, “Being a vampire has to be good for something. Still, you’re right, they just might trace you through Rita, and me through you. In the past, I’ve been attacked in my sanctuary during the day. The prospect frightens me, so I’m asking you to let me use you.”
“And you had to find her like that. It must have been hell on you.” He scrubbed his face. “You mean, using me, you could be aware of things that are going on even in the daytime, when you’re asleep?”
“Yes. I need that because these people know the weaknesses of my kind.”
“God, I’m being such a coward. It’s not any worse than being raped.”
Malory couldn’t keep his reaction to that off his face. He wanted to run out of the house and never bother Dave again. But that wasn’t an option. He needed the man. So he sat stiffly waiting.
Dave reached across the table. “I didn’t mean it that way. You’re a friend. I could get used to being used by you, temporarily anyway.” He forced a grin.
“Hey, that was a neat trick with the coffee.”
Malory found a smile and pasted it on. “Thought you might appreciate that.”
“Okay, so tell me your plan. One way or another, we’ve got to do this—for Rita—so I’m in. Whatever it takes.”
“It’s fairly simple. Once I locate the hit men, I’ll lure them and their boss into my home. They’ll come in the daylight expecting to kill me easily. But you and I’ll be ready—and they’ll die instead.”
“You mean, you’re going to use yourself as bait?”
“Yes.”
“That must be like—like facing your worst nightmare.”
“Yes. That’s why I need you. These days, I’ve no other mortal friends I could trust for this.”
“I’m ashamed. I shouldn’t have hesitated to agree. Mal, do what you have to do so I can stand it. Don’t let my squeamishness get in the way.”
Malory rose, and Silver got up with him, glancing at the paling of the window. “I guess you’ve got to go.”
“I was planning to stay here today. Remember the sanctuary I had built in your attic for Rita?”
“She never used it. I’d forgotten about it.”
“With your permission...?”
“Well, sure. Are you afraid to go home?”
“It would be unwise. And I wished to be near you. Through your awareness, I can be roused, even during the day, if needed. Tonight, I’ll check my security arrangements.”
Malory went to the window and examined the yard by the rising light. He had to admit it out loud. He owed the man that much. “And, Dave, I’ve been bereaved often in my time, but rarely so deeply. I just don’t want to be alone.”
“I kinda feel the same way. Everybody else I know thinks she’s been dead for years.”
“She has been, Dave, she has been.”
It went easier than Malory had expected. By the time he’d settled into the attic sanctuary, he’d adjusted his touch on Silver’s mind to leave Silver with the feel of his presence without the impression of being violated.
By noon, it had become comfortable for both of them. By sundown, they’d worked out signals that would let Silver ask for privacy, and let Malory ask for admission. The link was clear and pure, like holding a private mental conversation. It had been centuries since Malory had worked with such an easy link. He’d miss it desperately when this was over.
Silver spent the day on the phone arranging to take his three weeks vacation instead of giving three weeks notice. And he’d followed the detailed instructions Malory had left for ordering the construction work.
When Malory rose, Silver was packed to move to Malory’s house. Things were already in progress there. A decorator Malory’d used before had removed all the furniture from the living room and installed a large, carpeted pedestal in the center of the room, along with a grand piano in one corner, complete with silver candelabra.
The next day, workmen from a security contractor Malory relied on would rig the shutters on his living room windows—the huge bay windows overlooking the beach and Dave’s house—to shut when weight came onto the floor near the pedestal.
When Malory woke, he called the undertaker he’d had “bury” Rita years ago, and ordered an ostentatious coffin to be delivered, black with a red satin lining. It would fit perfectly on the pedestal.
Late that night, visiting the security contractor at his home in San Jose, Malory carefully planted instructions to have the coffin altered. When the lid was raised by outside handles, an anesthetic spray would saturate the area. He also had invisible spy cameras placed all about the living room, the monitors banked in the bedroom just above it.
The automatic devices installed in the living room could also be controlled from a console in that bedroom. The console could also flood the lower floor with CO2 foam. That console would be Silver’s station during the da
ys of waiting.
It was a long, tedious job to implant the details of the instructions then erase the memory of who’d given the orders. The workmen, he’d take care of as they finished their jobs.
With that done, Malory rechecked every sanctuary he had installed around the Bay Area, every lookout he had planted at key locations near those sanctuaries, every point where any mortal might pick up a lead on his activities. But there was no hint that del Rio’s people had found him.
Home about an hour before dawn, he went online to his brokerage house and opened an account for Silver, filing all the proper employee forms with the I.R.S. Then he activated the alternate identity he’d use when this was over. As an afterthought, he created an identity for Silver, too.
The following night, with preparations at his house progressing under Silver’s guidance, Malory planted several threads connecting him to Rita, then began stalking his prey. He checked all del Rio’s locations, infiltrating offices as mist, rifling files for names, dates, places, interrogating employees under compulsion, then erasing memories.
What he had expected to be a straightforward job turned into a tedious and unrewarding chore that dragged on and on and, as time passed, his hunger grew, his patience fled.
Three weeks after he’d found Rita charred and smoking, Malory slammed into the house and stalked into the living room. Dawn was graying the clear sky. Silver, disturbed by the sudden noise, came downstairs, tying his bathrobe. “Mal?”
Malory shouted, “Maybe it wasn’t del Rio! Maybe I’ve been looking in the wrong place!”
Silver flinched.
Malory subsided. “I’m sorry. I’ve just become so used to feeding every night that this is getting on my nerves.”
They both knew it was well past the time when Malory would have killed and feasted fully.
“Maybe,” said Silver relaxing, “del Rio did away with those men so they wouldn’t talk? Or he might have paid them off so well, they left the country.” They’d kicked this idea around before, to no avail. Silver added, “If he paid them off, they’re probably broke by now and on their way back.”
“If he paid them off, there should be a record. I’ve been through their every record and most of their minds!”
“Have you?” Silver leaned against the gleaming black coffin. “Did you question del Rio himself?” Malory was silent. He’d been staying away from the top echelon to keep a low profile. Silver added, “What of his number-two men?”
“Women. Three of them, each running a division and reporting to del Rio. I questioned them. Nothing. They’re not behind it. But del Rio....”
“If the killers were working directly for him, there wouldn’t be records on any lower level. He wouldn’t want it known he believes in vampires, would he? He wouldn’t want his people to believe they’re being stalked by a vampire.”
That was a new thought. “You’re right, Dave. Tomorrow, I’ll confront del Rio, and if I still come up blank, I’ll have to look at the other organizations around the Bay.”
Malory’s frustration subsided with that plan, and he looked around. The work had been completed and every bit of sawdust, every exposed wire, was gone. The bronze carpet was new, and so were the black drapes shielding the bay windows. All the new fabric had been fireproofed. The chemical stank.
Opening the windows, Malory said, “Get some deodorizer. The stage cobweb spray won’t cover the odor of newness. When I do get them here, I don’t want a false note to disrupt the illusion.” He sat at the piano to play a bit of Chopin. The first chord he struck was sour. “And get the piano tuner in this afternoon. The number’s on the rolodex in the kitchen. They’d never believe a vampire would have an untuned piano.”
Swallowing his comment, Silver pulled his handheld out of his robe pocket and made some entries in his task list and calendar.
Malory held out one hand. “Let me see that.”
Silver folded the case open and handed it to him. Silver said, “It’s just the same old one I use to note measurements for my clients. You’ve seen me use it.”
Malory folded it up, noted the port where it could connect to a desk-top, then looked from it to Silver’s robe pocket. “Maybe I haven’t seen all the records! People carry these things around with them. And they don’t think about them much.” Absently, he handed it back as he rose. “Wake me an hour before sunset. It’s going to be a busy night.”
Silver’s mental call came to Malory in his sanctuary cut into the rock of the hill under his house. The chamber was roughly four feet high by fifteen feet square, ventilated by a twenty yard long chimney not a half inch wide. It was his most secure location, because there was no entry a mortal could use. He had to turn to mist and sift through cracks in the rock or up the chimney. It had been difficult lining it with his native earth, and it had its own dangers. A quake could seal him in. Or Holy Water might miss the percolation layer and block the cracks so he couldn’t use them.
He emerged into the windowless basement and dressed in the dark outfit Silver had laid out for him. Silver had tailored it to fit, making it of the flame-retardant fabric that Silver insisted he wear these days.
Using the mental link to learn if Silver had darkened the house, he emerged fighting grogginess, and went to his computer on the second floor. The shopping service yielded a comprehensive list of the pocket-sized palm sized computers currently available along with instructions for their use.
Malory was impressed. If he hadn’t already possessed a perfect memory, he’d have ordered one for himself.
A little work with his maildrops, and he had del Rio’s current location from his spies inside the gangster’s organization, spies who would not remember dropping such notes.
Sternly putting aside his hunger, knowing it wasn’t as bad as it felt, he headed for the living room intending to exit in batform through the chimney. He had just come through the archway, when Silver’s pain lanced through him with paralyzing force, then subsided in an instant.
Malory forced his eyes open, berating himself for the lazy habit of maintaining the link with the mortal, and saw Silver bent double beside the window, holding his elbow and trying to breathe. In a flash, Malory was beside his friend.
Silver waved him off. “Nothing. I just hit my crazy bone. Be okay in a second.”
But Malory saw the blood trickling through Silver’s fingers. The blow had peeled off a flap of skin. He couldn’t get his eyes off the ruby liquid. Then the smell took him.
Fighting it, moving in slow motion, he bent, hands coming out, tongue reaching, mouth opening. If he made contact, he’d be thrown into an unstoppable feeding frenzy.
Silver didn’t understand. He’d gladly provided blood on occasion. He had no fear, and that was what ultimately saved him. As Malory sank into temptation, Silver shook Malory’s shoulder. “Mal, your oath. Just wait a little longer.”
Malory’s eyes fixed on the mortal’s and he got a fragile hold on himself, enough to stop but not to answer. Silver patted his shoulder, saying, “I’ll put something on this.”
Malory was left staring at his lack of reflection in the window, unable to remember what he’d looked like before. The hunger was worse than he’d thought. Tempted, he might take a kill now, breaking his vow, which could be fatal. Permanently fatal.
The gods of his fathers were unforgiving. Besides, succumbing to frenzy among the drug dealers could spook them. Then he’d never get Rita’s killers. Struggling with the knowledge of his weakness, Malory was startled when Silver returned.
“Mal. I thought you’d be gone by now.”
The wound was tightly covered with a plastic spray bandage and now Silver wore long sleeves. “Thank you, Dave. I’ve never owed a mortal such a large debt.”
The man came across the carpet. He stopped more than arm’s length from Malory, out of politeness, not fear, and offered, “We can call the debt square if you’d just answer, straight out, the questions you’ve always avoided.”
“Questions?” M
alory went to the window beside the bay window and finished opening it on the gathering fog aware of the thin smear of blood where Silver’s elbow had impacted.
“I’m not a very good Jew, so if I don’t think about it too much, I can see you as a bit foreign, or maybe an alien from outer space with powerful ESP. But turning into a bat, wolf, mist—no reflection, and an aversion for holy objects and flowing water—Mal, that’s not alien. It’s black magic!”
That gave Malory pause. “Magic?” He moved closer to Silver. “No. Magic is constrained by the laws of reality, same as science. I thought you understood, Dave. I was mortal once, a native creature of this earth. Now, I’m a supernatural creature, forced to stand half within and half without the laws of reality. The laws that constrain me are complex, and I’ve only just begun to understand them myself.”
“But how did it happen? Who forced? Who constrained? Why?” He gestured at the casket. “I know you’re just playing on human fears with this nonsense, but they say people become vampires by making a deal with the Devil.”
“The Devil? No, not in my case.” He’d never told any mortal before, but Silver had demanded payment. “A god cursed me, a legitimate god to whom I’d been promised as a sacrifice before I was born.”
Silver gaped. He hardly had to say it. Malory could read his face and didn’t need to check his mind. Pagan gods weren’t real. They were made up by ignorant people. With incredible naïveté, Silver answered, “But human sacrifice is immoral. How could you be blamed for refusing?”
“I didn’t refuse,” Malory snapped, offended. “Dave, long before the Creator of the Universe came to Abram the son of Terah, He made me the same offer. But my father had promised me to our god at my birth. After all what else were third sons of a king good for? So I hesitated.
“Our god was angry that I’d think to abandon my destiny, and cursed me to consume only human blood and to perish in the light of the sun. The curse came on me that very night. The power of our god was real, and there was an army about to besiege our city. I was to be sacrificed to save us from sack and ruin. It was my duty. I told the Creator of the Universe, that I wouldn’t go anywhere but to my sacrifice.
Through the Moon Gate and Other Tales of Vampirism Page 2
