She started asking him questions about what had happened in the world since she’d been locked up. The events of 9/11 had occurred after she’d been kidnapped, so the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq were news to her. She found the Arab Spring intriguing. The fact that America had a black president astounded her. Rod started to tell her about how far the Internet had come when he had a sudden inspiration.
“Here,” he said. “Let me show you.” He dug out his cellphone. The light from its screen lit up the inside of the closet. Simone’s face was only inches from his, close enough for him to smell the soap she’d used to clean her hair. Close enough to kiss, he thought. There was a gleam in her eye, as if she could read his intentions. They both moved back a little, as if mutually embarrassed.
“What is that?” Simone asked.
“It’s my cellphone,” he said. “I can get Internet service on it.”
“A phone?” she said. She reached out and grabbed it. “So small!” she marveled, turning it over and over in her hands. Then she sat and stared at him, still holding his phone. “Why didn’t you call for help?” she said finally.
Rod was embarrassed. Of course, he’d been thinking about it ever since he’d been locked in here, alone. The girls had seen the phone and examined it as if puzzled, but hadn’t seemed to understand what it was or what it could do. Smartphones and Wi-Fi hadn’t existed when they’d been kidnapped.
“I, uh… I’m not sure,” he stammered. “I want to help you.”
“Help us?” She sounded suspicious. “Why would you do that?”
“You don’t remember me, do you, Simone?”
She gave him a look, as if to say, Obviously not.
“I was in Mrs. Hogner’s seventh-grade math class with you. I had a crush on you.”
She examined him, then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember much about those days. School seems so… far away.”
“I still think you’re pretty cool,” he said. God, that sounded lame.
She looked puzzled. “What about your wife and kids?”
“I lied.”
“What?”
“I thought you’d be less likely to kill me if I told you I had a family. I didn’t recognize you at first.”
Hearing this, Simone looked so sad that he couldn’t help himself: he reached out and put his palm on her cheek. She winced at first, then leaned into his caress. It wasn’t so much him, he sensed, as that she simply craved human contact. Her eyes started to well up, and he dared to take her in his arms and hug her.
After she had cried herself out, she leaned away from him and ran her hands across her eyes, wiping away the tears. “Do you really want to help?” she asked. Her voice was all business again.
“Anything,” Rod said. He meant it. All thoughts of escape had vanished.
“Go to the neighbors. Tell them you’ve rented this house. See if they’ll sell you any of their livestock, anything at all. My sisters… I mean, Laura and Patty… need some raw flesh to eat, or… or I’m not sure what will happen.”
“OK,” he said. “I have a little money in the car. I’ll see what I can do.”
Simone started to get up, then sat back down and took his hand. “If you can’t help us, then you must leave. I can’t be sure that we can control our hunger much longer. Promise me you won’t come back unless you can bring us some meat.”
He nodded. He noticed that she hadn’t asked him not to call the authorities. She trusted him, it was clear. She gave him back his phone and led him out of the closet. It was dawn, and a small amount of light had infiltrated the hallway. As they stood outside the door before joining the others, they turned to each other and hugged. Rod resisted the urge to try to kiss her, though he’d never wanted something so much in his whole life. She kept her head down during the hug, as if afraid he’d try it. When they broke apart, she gave him a grateful smile.
He spent the next few hours going door to door in the neighborhood until he found an old man who was willing to sell him one of his goats. It was a scrawny thing, on its last legs, but Rod bought it.
When he got it back to the house, he was alarmed at how the three girls tore into the unfortunate animal. He went back to his closet so he wouldn’t have to watch. He took out his cellphone. That morning, he’d only had ten percent power left, but once Simone had given him the freedom to move around, he’d used the recharger in the van.
The previous evening, Rod had come across The Testament of Michael, which was all over the Internet. It had given him an idea.
He called up his blog, his Facebook page and every other site he could think of, and he told the story of the three girls who had been abducted, abused and were in need of help. He knew he was broadcasting it to the world, to both the good guys and the bad guys, but he didn’t think he had any choice. In fact, he thought he’d be lucky if anyone noticed and took it seriously.
“To Terrill…” it began.
#
“Master, why were we created?”
“Please, call me Terrill,” he said. He looked down at his followers, who were arrayed around him. They were staring up at him with adoring eyes.
Ridiculous. What he really wanted to do was run far, far away.
“This isn’t about us,” Terrill said.
“Not about us?”
“We sprang from man,” Terrill said. “We are manifestations of mankind’s hopes and fears. What is evil but the darkness in the human heart? And no matter where a human goes, his heart goes with him.”
He was sitting on the picnic table, surrounded by a couple of dozen vampires. Most had taken the Sacrament of the Blood of Gold, but a few were holding back, uncertain or undecided. So far, almost everyone had survived the test, for a vampire had to be pretty committed to make the long journey through the High Desert of Eastern Oregon and up the narrow, winding roads into the Strawberry Mountains from John Day. By the time they finished that journey, there weren’t too many doubters left.
Even when they thought they were ready, though, Sylvie and Jamie made them wait, made them listen to Terrill explain the consequences. Never again could they kill man, woman or child, they were told. Never again could they drink human blood. They could never go back.
Since the consequence of failure was immediate death, there were always a few doubters. Terrill almost preferred it that way. Doubters were healthy. This was taking on all the trappings of a cult, and it made him uncomfortable. He probably ought to keep his mouth shut, he knew, but he couldn’t help spouting off when he had an audience.
And there was Marc, at the end of the bench, writing down his every word. Marc refused to take credit for the authorship of The Testament of Michael. “I heard his voice,” he said. “Every word was Michael’s.”
Terrill doubted it. Michael had never been big on religion. He had certainly never talked in the religious terminology of the Testament. Terrill’s Maker, the most ancient of vampires, had told him that the evolution of this new type of vampire had been planned and guided for millennia. We’re nothing but the end of a long line of breeding, Terrill thought. Like prize cows.
That didn’t sound very lofty, however, and the Testament certainly was drawing in those vampires who were tired of killing. That’s what Michael had wanted, wasn’t it?
Terrill stopped talking, and when it became clear he wasn’t going to continue, his disciples wandered off, discussing his words. Terrill almost laughed at the serious tones he overheard. What would happen if he just took off? Never came back?
The cult would go on, he realized. Maybe even more vibrantly without him there to discourage it.
He shuddered at the thought. He didn’t much want to be a martyr, but the logic of a cult almost demanded a sacrifice.
Clarkson entered the clearing from the hillside above. They had Wi-Fi reception only at the top of the nearest hill, so there was always someone stationed there. The former Council member was a breath of fresh air for Terrill. She treated him as an equal. She apparently wasn
’t buying into the legend of Saint Terrill. He’d begun to tell her of his worries about this turning into a cult, but she’d cut him off, saying, “It’s a cult when it’s only a few people; it’s a religion when it’s a lot.”
“I thought you ought to see this,” Clarkson said now. She handed him a phone and he started reading.
It was a blog by someone who gave his first name as Rod. It was entitled “To Terrill.”
“I have read The Testament of Michael, and I think you might be our only hope. I am helping three young women who escaped the clutches of a serial rapist and murderer. They are safe for the moment, but I don’t know what else to do. I’m worried about them. They don’t know I’m doing this. They are completely innocent of the ways of the Internet.
“Here’s the thing. They are vampires: vampires with the minds of thirteen-year-old girls, which was their age when they were abducted. Yeah, yeah, most of you will stop reading at this point, but it’s true. Crescent City had an outbreak of vampires. Maybe you read about it. So these innocent girls, who endured years of imprisonment by an evil man, were turned into these creatures, and now they are suffering. None of this is their fault. They don’t deserve it.
“So far, they have not killed anyone, but I can tell they won’t be able to hold off much longer. I’m not worried about myself; I’m worried about their souls. They didn’t ask for what happened to them.
“Terrill, help save these poor unfortunate girls.”
Terrill handed the phone back to Clarkson. “OK. What can we do about it?”
“I want to go get them,” she said. “Bring them back here.”
“They don’t sound ready for the blood of gold,” Terrill said.
“We can at least protect them,” Clarkson insisted, “until they are ready.”
Terrill sat back down on the picnic table and thought. Was this really his responsibility? He felt for those girls, and for their human protector. But what could he do?
“How will you find them?” he asked finally.
“I already have,” Clarkson said. “I contacted Callendar at the FBI, and he gave me the cell tower tracking history for the phone that guy used to post this. I should be able to find them from that.”
After the unsuccessful raid on Sylvie’s house in Bend, Callendar had passed word through back channels that the FBI was looking for them, and that he’d try to hold off the hunters for as long as possible. “I owe you that much,” he’d said.
Clarkson had been antsy ever since they’d arrived in these isolated hills. She had taken it upon herself to monitor the outside world, but Terrill knew that what she really wanted was to be engaged with it.
“All right, but be careful,” he said. “We’re probably not the only ones who read this message.”
Clarkson nodded. She’d grown out her hair, which had once been cut close to her head and so light blonde it was nearly white. Now it was long and a soft golden color. Once she’d been pale and forbidding, but now she looked like a tanned beach girl. Her severe manner hadn’t changed much, though. She still seldom smiled… or frowned, for that matter.
“I want to go too.”
Terrill turned in surprise to see that Marc was still sitting on the bench at his feet and was looking up at them. He had an open expression, big brown eyes behind nerdy-looking glasses, and was all skin and bones. He only ate enough raw meat to stay alive. Terrill thought he’d stop eating meat altogether if he could. Now that would be a true miracle––a vegetarian vampire.
Don’t you want to write down my every word? he wanted to ask.
“I’ll leave my tape recorder here,” Marc said, answering his unspoken question. “I’ll get others to tape you, then make transcripts when I get back.”
“Why?”
“Your words must not be lost,” Marc said.
“No, I meant why do you want to go?”
“I think I know who these girls are. There were a couple of kidnappings in Del Norte County of young girls who were never found. I think their names were Patty and Simone. I don’t know about a third girl, but it makes sense. If it’s them, they’ve been missing for over ten years.”
So? Terrill wanted to ask. Why are you interested?
Again, Marc seemed to respond to his thoughts. “They are innocents. They must be saved. The blood of gold can save them.”
Terrill glanced at Clarkson. She seemed to be pleading with him with her eyes to say no. She was going to be disappointed. “All right,” he said. “I’d feel better if you didn’t go alone, Clarkson.”
I wish I could go with you, he thought. Anything to get out from under the burden of sainthood.
Chapter 9
By the time Hoss flew to London, he’d lost most of his followers. They had just faded away. London was like the moon to them. Despite the vampire hunt going on outside the motel room walls, they chose not to accompany him.
As he was about to leave, a little girl tugged on his coat. Who the hell would Turn a six-year-old girl? Hoss wondered. Then again, who the hell would Turn a thirteen-year-old boy?
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Who’s going to enforce the Rules of Vampire if you leave, Hoss?”
Hoss almost laughed. What do I care? he almost said. But then he realized that he did care. “What’s your name?”
“Charlotte Hamilton,” the girl answered in a strong, clear voice.
“Well, Charlotte… I guess you’re going to have to enforce the Rules.” After all, he thought, who’s bossier than a little girl? “You hear that?” he shouted to the others in the motel office. “Charlotte’s in charge!”
A couple of vampires laughed, but Charlotte glared at them and they shut up. Yes, there’s no one bossier.
Having appointed his lieutenant, Hoss left with his small group of followers. Jodie went with him. She seemed completely enamored with him, demanding more of his time and energy than he could really afford. Then again, he was a teenage boy first discovering sex. It turned out he always had the time and energy for that. His first converts, Pete and Jimmy, also came along. Once the Battle of Crescent City was over, most of the others had wandered away from his protection, no longer feeling the need to follow the Rules of Vampire, which Hoss insisted on.
Hoss didn’t hold out much hope for their survival. The humans were aware of them as never before, which meant the Rules were more necessary than ever before. But the Rules had to be voluntary if they were to mean anything. As far as Hoss was concerned, that had been the biggest mistake that Fitzsimmons and the Council of Vampires had made. They had turned the Rules into laws, punishable by death, instead of using logic and persuasion to convince others that that was the right way to go about things. That’s how the great Terrill had done it.
Hoss was flying to London to meet with the Council to press his case: that by enforcing the Rules through punishment, they were weakening their impact, not to mention just asking for vampires to disobey them. The Rules were only effective if each vampire, as a way to stay safe, internalized them; or made them an ethical choice, as some vampires did.
To Hoss’s great surprise, they were met at the airport by a limousine and whisked to their hotel. The driver was quite deferential and informed them that the Battle of Crescent City had already become famous, and Hoss’s part in it legendary.
Even more surprisingly, Hoss was ushered into the Council chambers within a day of arriving in London. He left Jodie behind in their hotel room, to her great disappointment. Pete and Jimmy also stayed behind, but they seemed just as content to stay out of the politics. The two small-town boys were already feeling overwhelmed by the long trip and the big city.
The Council chambers looked like any corporate meeting room; indeed, they were located in the back of a bank. There was a concave table in the center of the room. Hoss could smell the blood on it, and his eyes followed its contours as they tapered to a point. A drainage point, he realized. He felt a chill.
There were ten members of the Council, representing E
ngland and the rest of Europe. He’d been told before entering that Clarkson, the blonde vampire he’d met in Crescent City, had been the American representative, but was now considered a traitor. Fitzsimmons was still in America, he was told, so there were eight councilors in attendance. Along the walls, behind the councilors’ chairs, stood their aides, those most likely to be next in line for a seat at the table.
At the age of thirteen and newly Turned, Hoss was by far the youngest vampire there. He suspected it was unprecedented for a vampire so young to be given an audience at a Council meeting. I’m being used, he realized. Someone sees benefit in having me here. It didn’t matter. As long as he was allowed to present his case, he didn’t care what was behind it.
He was not the youngest-looking vampire present, however. There was a councilor at the end of the table who didn’t appear much older than ten, if you didn’t look too closely into his ancient dark eyes. He was so small that he had to sit on a raised seat. That must be Hargraves, Hoss thought. Peterson had given him a quick rundown on the councilors who were likely to attend.
“Fitzsimmons hasn’t yet returned from America,” Peterson said by way of introduction. “He asked me to chair this meeting in his stead. He and I agree that what happened in Crescent City was extraordinary, and that we should introduce to you a vampire who was instrumental in helping resolve the situation there.
“Don’t let his age fool you. This young vampire met us at the airport with a local chapter of the Council of Vampires.”
Hoss heard a few of the older councilors snicker. Peterson glared at them and they shut up.
“Without young Hoss’s help, we would have been quickly overwhelmed,” Peterson continued. “I know it sounds precocious, but I suspect this chap is a kind of genius. He organized his followers into an effective force. He knows the Rules forward and backward, and what’s more, he believes in them completely.”
Again there were amused mutterings, and Hoss wondered what was going on. This is the Council of Vampires. Don’t they all believe in the Rules? Isn’t that why they’re here?
The Vampire Evolution Trilogy (Book 3): Blood of Gold Page 7
