by Serena Robar
“I believe you two have a bit of a blind spot about each other.”
“Why, Mr. Holloway,” I declared, doing my best Scarlett O’Hara impression. “Whatever do you mean?” I fanned myself lightly.
He chuckled. “My dear, you are amusing. I’ll give you that. Now what news have you brought me?”
I settled into the chair he offered and debated the best way to begin.
“I had an unusual encounter this evening. Not my typical kind,” I rushed to assure him before he could tell me to take it up with Thomas and dismiss me. “But with a different type of vampire.”
“Go on.”
“Well, you see, these vampires were kind of squishy. Sort of decaying. In fact, if I had to call it something, I would say they were zombie vampires.”
I peeked up at him through my lashes, ready to be thrown out of his office for wasting his time.
“I see,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his torso. My eyes were immediately drawn to his right hand, where he wore his vampire license. I could see the scar under his ring at the base of his finger where he’d cut it off so many years ago and then put it back to knit together.
Shaking my head, I continued with my story. “They also smelled bad. I mean really bad. Like rotten eggs, expired dairy bad. And when they were staked, a white mist escaped into the air.”
“How many have you encountered so far, Colby?” He didn’t seem the least bit surprised by my description. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.
“There were five total, all dead now. And I mean really dead, not like Undead,” I felt the need to clarify, then coughed to clear my throat.
“I understand the distinction.”
“I was kind of hoping you could shed some light on what these guys were.”
Please don’t say zombies, please don’t say zombies, I chanted in my head.
“They are demon-possessed vampires. Zombies, by a more common name.”
Crap, I asked you not to call them that.
“Do they want to eat my brains?” I had to know.
“I wouldn’t think so. Zombies have no need of sustenance, so have no desire to consume anything. They are merely a vessel being used by the demon possessing them. They have no agenda of their own.”
Well, there’s another great horror-movie myth shot down by cold, hard fact. I mean, I was glad there weren’t zombies roaming the earth eating brains but at the same time, I wanted to believe pop culture got some things right once in a while.
“I don’t understand. Why would demons want to possess a vampire if they didn’t want to eat my brains? I have rogue vampires trying to kick my butt on a regular basis—why do demons want in on the action?”
“The Prophesy, of course.”
“I thought you didn’t take stock in the Prophesy. You said it was a bunch of superstitious nonsense.”
He stood up and walked around the room. “Colby, it doesn’t matter if I believe the Prophesy. It doesn’t matter if you believe it either. What matters is that they believe it.” He swept his arm out toward the window, with its breathtaking view of the city.
“If enough vampires believe the Prophesy is real, it becomes self-fulfilling. Do you understand?”
I hated to say this. “Uh, no.”
“What I mean is that if you believe the end of your existence is inevitable, you will take certain actions. You might take risks or join with forces you would not normally contemplate in a bid to survive. These actions become the catalyst. Those that believe in the Prophesy actually become the ones who make it happen.”
“And you think vampires are joining forces with these demons in a bid to survive?” I was still totally confused.
“No, demons don’t work that way. Demons are opportunists. They need to be in the right place at the right time. They can only possess a body with no soul. And the demon must be present when the soul leaves the body. It’s all very carefully timed. Secondly, most demons are content to stay in their own plane of existence.”
“Why?”
“It’s their home, of course. It’s where they live, play and exist. But occasionally, a demon comes along who wants more. Who dreams of conquering others. He rallies his fellow demons and uses something like the Prophesy as an opportunity to further his cause. These demons are rare. That’s why you don’t see a lot of demon possessions.”
“But you think that such a demon might be making a play now?” I was catching on.
“Yes. Tell me, Colby, what do you know about demons?”
“Oh well, I know they—that is to say they, honestly, I don’t know anything, sir.”
He walked to his whiteboard and picked up a marker. “There are seven kinds of demons, Colby. Some are of no consequence; they are harmless or uninterested in possession. The one we need to be concerned with is an Avarice Demon named Barnaby.”
I looked at the names he wrote on the board. Seven in total. “Avarice Demon? You mean greed? This demon is greedy?”
“Not exactly. This demon is greed. Do you get the distinction?”
I really wanted to be head pupil on this one but I still needed a little more help. I shook my head.
Mr. Holloway sighed. “It’s not your fault, Colby. You’re young and only in your first year, right? It’s no matter. Barnaby, that’s the name of this particular Avarice Demon, wants to take over our world. To do that he needs to get as many demons to follow him as possible. They can’t possible infiltrate enough humans in a short period of time without an epidemic or a war. Those are difficult to predict and frankly, humans are too fragile. Barnaby is not a patient demon. Instead, he will use vampires.”
“But how do you possess something that is Undead?”
“By replacing the missing part of a vampire’s essence with themselves. They can only enter slowly, through dreams and unguarded moments. The vampire suspects something is going on, but demons are smart. They tend to choose vampires that isolate themselves from others and then drive that vampire crazy with paranoid delusions and irrational thoughts. Haven’t you wondered why there is so much rogue activity lately?”
I jumped out of my chair. “You mean all those vampires going rogue are really becoming possessed by demons? How do we stop it?”
“By stopping the leader, my dear. By stopping Barnaby.”
“Tell me where to find him.” I had no idea how to fight a demon but I was mad enough to wing it.
“You can’t kill a demon in his own dimension, Colby. You can’t reach him, nor could you survive there. He must cross over. It is only when the demon is fully ingrained that it can be annihilated. The biggest challenge is not destroying the vampire to kill the demon. Physical signs alert us when a vampire has been fully possessed: completely irrational behavior, putrid, decaying flesh. By then it’s too late.”
“So demons possess the Undead and they, in turn, attack other Undead. We are killing ourselves, making the Prophesy come true. And I get the blame.”
“I’m sorry, my dear, but I believe that is what’s happening.”
“But I’ve got to stop it!” I certainly wasn’t a huge fan of vampires in general but I didn’t want the entire species wiped out because some greedy demon wanted a new plane of existence to hang out in.
“I fear the only way to stop it is to destroy Barnaby—but no one knows where he will strike next.”
There had to be a way. If Barnaby was using the Prophesy to achieve his endgame, then I needed to use it to beat him.
“I need access to the vampire library and everything in it. Restricted or otherwise.”
“You have a plan?” He seemed surprised by my rally.
“Beat the bad guy, save the world.”
He looked at me.
“Well, it’s more of a mantra than a plan. But I do think I can figure out Baranaby’s next move with a little research. Know thy enemy and all that stuff.”
He nodded in agreement and picked up the phone. I now had full access to the libra
ry.
“What else do you need?” It was go time.
Six
PIPER
“It could be Elven. I have a friend who speaks Elven. Maybe he can take a look at it?”
I blew air out of my mouth in frustration. “You know, Wayne, if it isn’t Klingon, I’m going out on a limb and sayin’ it probably isn’t Elvish either. Thanks anyway.”
I was officially at a dead end. Wayne was the last of a long list of dead ends. It wasn’t Persian, Latin, Chinese, Egyptian or, thank goodness, Klingon. The Prophesy’s original text was a complete and utter friggin’ mystery. Still.
“Looks like ancient Runic,” a deep voice whispered in my ear, tickling my neck and sending my pulse racing.
“You!” I exclaimed, rather uncoolly. “I mean, hey, Hunter. What a surprise.”
Wayne took one look at Hunter, with his tall, muscular body and windblown, shoulder-length hair, and practically raced out of the teahouse.
Hunter smirked at Wayne’s hasty departure while making himself comfortable in his still-warm seat. I raised an eyebrow at his forwardness. God, I loved a man with confidence.
“Would you jump in my grave as quick?” It was something my grandpa always said to us kids when we scrambled to take possession of his favorite recliner after he got up to use the bathroom. I was never sure quite what it meant but it seemed appropriate for the moment.
“Do you always start conversations with grave references?” Hunter asked smoothly.
“Do you really know anything about Runic language?” I challenged back, trying to play it as cool as he was acting. I frowned at the paper in front of me.
He shrugged indifferently. Oh boy, he was so hot.
“Prove it to me.” I pushed the page in his direction.
He leaned forward, pointing to the symbols on the page. “See how the letters are all at an angle? Like slash marks? Runic is ancient. Back when important messages were carved on wood or stone. See here, it’s easier to carve a straight slash than a curve.” He slid a switchblade from his boot and demonstrated by slashing the air in lines.
I think he was trying to shock me by pulling out a blade to make his point, but I’d seen Undead implode. A little ol’ knife was not going to freak me out.
I ignored him and analyzed the letters again. “Huh,” I grunted. He might have something there. “Now how come five other college students and one professor had no idea what this language was?”
“Probably because it isn’t straight Runic. It looks like a mixture of Runic with something else. Perhaps Ogden script? See, these letters are different. Also, Ogden script is read from left to right while these here are read from right to left.”
“Ogden script?” I was completely baffled.
Hunter tucked his knife neatly back into his boot. “Ogden script is another ancient language. Used by tree priests.”
I stared at him in wonder and disbelief. Who was this guy that he had a working knowledge of ancient scripts about trees, anyway?
“So what does that mean?” I asked, completely confused.
“It means someone combined two very different ancient languages and married them in some way. To create a language or code only they could understand.”
“But you understand it?” I ventured, curious.
He leaned back and smiled. “Maybe. What’s it for?”
I debated on what to tell him. After all, I didn’t know this guy at all, but I really wouldn’t mind the prospect of a little one-on-one tutoring from him. However, the last time I met him he happened to arrive on the scene of a very messy vampire tussle where Colby was hurt and almost staked. She was convinced he was trouble, so I couldn’t really spill the beans about vampires and ancient prophesies. Not to mention it would make me sound crazy.
“Scavenger hunt. Part of Greek Week.”
He raised an eyebrow at me in question. “You don’t strike me as a Greek.”
“I’m not. Just helping out a friend. She wants to win really bad.”
He looked unconvinced. I smiled benignly.
“Your friend from the other day, Colby, is it?”
“Yeah, that’s her. She’s very competitive.” It annoyed me he remembered her name, though I couldn’t say why. Everyone remembered Colby. Blonde hair, perfect figure. She was larger than life. And by assuming it was Colby, he was basically saying I had no other friends, wasn’t he?
“She okay?” he asked, apparently buying my scavenger hunt story. That annoyed me too. Did I look like the kind of gal who would waste her time on a Greek Week activity? Hello? Not so much.
I stamped down my annoyance. “Colby? Oh yeah. She’s fine.”
“She’s so little,” he commented.
“She’s small, but she’s wiry,” I assured him sharply. Did we have to go on about Colby’s tiny, frail figure?
“Good to know.” Sometimes, it was tough having a friend like Colby. Little Miss Sunshine girl. Even now that she was a half-blood vampire she still lit up a room. She could at least have become a stereotypical vampire and gone all dark and morbid but no, Colby had to do things her own way. Like always.
“What’s with the sigh?” Hunter asked.
I shook my head. “This scavenger hunt is becoming a huge pain in my rear. Do you really think you might be able to decipher this message?”
He picked up the paper, reviewed it closely and looked back at me. He seemed to be contemplating his answer, measuring his words carefully before saying them aloud.
“I might be able to but I don’t have enough to go by. Do you have more of this writing?”
My heart sank. No, I didn’t have more ancient texts. In fact, any texts were going to be at the vampire library and who knew if I could make copies of the stuff there? If it wasn’t on display, I wouldn’t even know what to look for. One script looked very much like another to me and Hunter had taken all of three seconds to figure out it was actually two ancient alphabets used together.
I had a crazy, wild, irrational thought. No, I couldn’t. Colby would kill me. Of course, she didn’t know Carl gave me access to the library and she’d forbidden me from going anyway because of the danger factor. What if Hunter were to accompany me? He could act as my bodyguard, and he certainly didn’t need to know we were breaking into a vampire library, did he?
“Why are you here, anyway?” I asked bluntly.
“Tea is the new coffee, haven’t you heard?”
“But you’re not drinking any tea.”
He refused to break eye contact. “No, it doesn’t appear that I am, does it?”
“How did you find me?”
“What makes you think I was looking for you?” Haughty was so sexy. I needed professional help, didn’t I?
“And yet, here you are.”
“Coincidence?” he ventured.
“Unlikely.”
“Maybe someone told me I would find you here.”
“Who?” I asked sharply.
“Someone at Psi Phi House.”
My heart raced. How did he know about Psi Phi House? Who was he anyway?
“Your car had a Psi Phi House sticker in the window so I did a little checking. Only one sorority called Psi Phi and it happens to be at PSU. Very convenient, since I live on Capital Hill.”
“So you were looking for me.”
“Maybe I was looking for your little blonde friend?” he countered.
“She’s not here. I am,” I said. Why was I surprised? Of course he was interested in Colby.
“Lucky me.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. He was way better at the cool, sophisticated banter than I was. I decided to switch the conversation back to where I was in control.
“How do you know so much about these scripts, anyway?”
He stared at me a moment more before saying, “My grandfather,” without elaborating.
“And?” I drawled after a moment.
“And when I was little, I would stay with him in his huge house full of all sorts of
books and journals. He loved ancient languages but preferred pagan symbols above all others. He devoted most of his time to their study after he retired.”
“Oh, what did he used to do?” What kind of job leads you to spend your free time studying old languages? Was he an archaeologist or something?
“That would be a story for another time,” Hunter said confidently, annoying and thrilling me at the same time.
“What makes you think there’s going to be another time?” I scoffed. Two could play at this game.
“You need me,” he said simply.
Instead of immediately dousing his ego with a white-hot put-down guaranteed to make even the most confident of men cry like a little girl, I studied him.
Somewhere in that gorgeous, brooding noggin was the knowledge I needed to help Colby and the girls of Psi Phi. It was dangerous and probably foolhardy but the high risk was worth it if I solved the riddle. Colby was living on borrowed time and so was the world if that stupid Prophesy was to be believed. I did need Hunter. He was kind of my last hope. And it didn’t hurt that he was something to look at as well. I needed to be bold.
“Will you come somewhere with me? And not ask any questions and do exactly what I say?”
His look intensified, if that was even possible. “On one condition.”
God, there was always a condition, wasn’t there? I slowly nodded.
“I get to drive.” He pointed out the teahouse window to an illegally parked motorcycle.
We met again at Psi Phi House early Wednesday. If he had reservations about going someplace unknown at five in the morning, he kept it to himself. He was true to his word.
I’d never been on a motorcycle before. It was a thrilling experience. The engine vibrating beneath me while I held on tight to Hunter made my knees weak. I could get used to traveling that way. As long as I was with Hunter. He was in control and confident. He was totally comfortable with who he was and I was drawn to him.
Colby would say it was his bad-boy demeanor that turned me on, but it was more than that. I felt like we were connected somehow. It was weird; I couldn’t put my finger on it, but Hunter and I were cut from the same cloth.
