“Can’t help it.”
“I know. I love you, too, Sarah.” Rhes knew he didn’t say this often enough, and hoped he made it clear in other ways. He felt Sarah’s smile against his skin.
“I know.”
* * *
The next night took him to Manhattan. Several blocks north and west of where Rhes now stood, Two was lingering outside of L’Obscurité for the second time in as many days, nervous anticipation tightening her guts, making her heart race. Just a few dozen feet above her, from an apartment window, the vampire Naomi watched her with curiosity. Six hundred miles away, Tori Perrault sat drinking and weeping, leafing through old photographs in the living room of the house she had shared with her parents, who had now been deceased for nearly sixty hours.
Rhes, aware of none of this, knew only that it had come down to what now seemed inevitable. He was concerned enough about his friend’s well-being that he was preparing to kick in the door to her apartment.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Sarah asked, sounding nervous.
“Sure. Well, no … but I’ve seen it on TV a couple times.”
“Oh. Fantastic, Rhes.”
“Look out. I’m going to get a running start.”
Sarah took a few steps backward. She opened her mouth and Rhes knew she was going to ask him to reconsider. He didn’t want to do that; he knew that if he did, the fear of what might be waiting for him inside the apartment would never let him go through with it.
“I’m going,” he said, and charged forward, leading with his right shoulder and aiming low so that the maximum impact would happen near the door-knob. The wooden door gave way with a splintering crack and Rhes, off-balance, fell forward into the condo’s dark entranceway with a thud and a grunt. He lay there on the floor for a moment, breathing.
“Should I laugh or call an ambulance?” Sarah asked. She knelt down beside him and put her hand on his back.
Rhes rolled his eyes and pushed himself up off the floor. “Let’s hold the laughter until we’re sure Two’s not here.”
“OK.”
Rhes glanced at the alarm system. If it had been activated by his entrance, there was no outward sign of it, and he guessed that Two had never turned it on in the first place. He glanced around the hallway, trying to see.
“Where are the fucking lights? I can’t see anything.”
“Welcome to my world,” Sarah muttered.
Rhes paused, glancing over at Sarah. The regularity with which her blindness came up in casual conversation seemed to have increased lately. Where the simple act of flipping a switch would make things much easier for Rhes, it would change nothing for Sarah, and it seemed that this sort of thing was bothering her more than it used to.
Sarah, aware that Rhes had paused, shook her head. “Not looking for pity, hon. Just musing. The light switch is behind you, near the kitchen door. I heard Two use it the last time we came over.”
Rhes looked where she had told him to, found the switch, and turned on the lights.
“Does it bother you when I say stuff like that? I’m not trying to be insensitive or hurtful, I just don’t think about it most of the time.”
“You were just looking for a light switch. It’s not like you shouted out ‘Jesus Christ, I feel like my cripple girlfriend!’ or something.”
“Sarah …”
She sighed. “Look, we can talk about the many cons of blindness later if you want. For right now, it’s really OK, I promise. Let’s focus on what we came here for, all right?”
“Yeah, you’re right. I need to search this place.”
“Yes, you do, and we both know you can do it quicker if I stay out of the way. That’s fine. Get me to the couch and I’ll hang out there.”
Rhes led her forward, glancing into the kitchen as they passed it. It was empty, the only sign of human use a half-empty bottle of bourbon and an empty bottle of water. The hallway opened out into a small living room, sparsely furnished. Two hadn’t been much for decoration even before any of this had begun, when she had been a vibrant, mischievous kid of seventeen living with Rhes in Brooklyn. Much had changed about her since then, but not that.
“See anything suspicious?” Sarah asked, sitting down on the couch, her back to the large picture window where, only a few hours before, Two had stood waiting for the sun to go down.
“Nope.”
Rhes moved quickly around the living room, looking behind the couch. There was no indication of any struggle and no sign of Two, other than another bottle of bourbon, this one unopened, sitting on the small table she had stuck in what architects and realtors liked to call the ‘breakfast nook.’
“I’m going to check the bedroom,” he said.
“Knock yourself out.”
The search ended quickly and without result. Rhes checked Two’s bedroom, her bathroom, her closets. He looked into the bathroom and found nothing out of the ordinary. Two was not here in any capacity, and certainly not lying dead in a corner somewhere.
Rhes returned to the living room, trying to be happy that he had not found any sign that his friend was in trouble. Instead, he was mostly frustrated.
Sarah had been reclining on the couch. She sat up straight as Rhes returned.
“Not here, huh?”
Rhes leaned against the door-frame between the hallway and the living room, blowing air through his pursed lips in aggravation.
“No, she’s not here. I have no idea where she is, but she’s not here. Her voicemail light is blinking … probably from me filling it up.”
“You want to listen and be sure?”
Rhes shrugged. “No. Don’t know her password anyway, and who cares? Two obviously doesn’t give a fuck about anything anymore. It’s probably time to stop worrying about her and just let it go.”
Sarah considered this for a moment before asking, “You mean that?”
Rhes raised his head. He was going to tell her no, of course not, he didn’t mean it at all. He was, in fact, already considering where else he might search for his friend. He was going to explain this to Sarah, but instead he found his glance shifting from his girlfriend to the window behind her. There was something not right happening, though for a moment the sight was so absurd that his mind seemed unable to process it.
A pair of eyes, burning bright with malice, were staring at him from behind the pane of glass, eighty feet up the side of a building where no human being could possibly be.
“Jesus Christ, Sarah, get down!” Rhes roared. He took what he knew would be a futile step toward his girlfriend. Behind her, the thing at the window reared back, maintaining some impossible grip with its feet, and brought both hands forward, palms out, crashing into the glass.
Rhes heard each noise as if it had been plucked out individually, separated from the general cacophony and accentuated. First, the splintering as fissures opened, then the crash as the window burst inward, and finally the pitter-patter noises of individual squares of safety glass hitting the carpet. Rhes took another long, impossibly slow step, still shouting, still watching as the thing at the window now reached out to grasp at Sarah with the elongated talons of its fingers.
Time seemed to snap back into place at that moment, and Rhes heard the sounds of the attack receding as his pulse began to thud in his ears. He could still hear the wind outside, rushing in through the now-shattered window. Sarah had begun to scream. The thing, whatever it was, gurgled out laughter that sounded like sewage passing over river stones. Rhes took another step, found that this one seemed fast enough for him, and shifted his weight, springing forward. He shouted something incoherent, but it was enough.
The creature that had been headed for Sarah now turned to look at him instead. Rhes, unafraid and well beyond the point of no return, flung himself into the air. He had time to contemplate the possibility that he might send both himself and this monstrosity soaring out through the broken window in a suicidal dive to the pavement below. Instead, acting on instinct, the thing grabbed him out
of mid-air, falling backward and to the side. They landed on the carpet, grappling with each other.
Rhes wanted to shout for Sarah to run, but there were long fingers wrapped around his throat, throttling him. He jerked his head back and then slammed it forward, connecting with the creature’s skull. Stars shot through his vision, but Rhes forced himself to shove forward with his hands. The grip on his neck was broken, and Rhes rolled away from the thing.
There were two more crashes, from other windows in the room. The lights went out. Sarah was sobbing, somewhere.
“Sa liraset karecomar zhi nav, Jason,” a voice said. The words echoed out from the dark, rotting and guttural. Rhes scuttled on hands and knees toward the sound of Sarah’s sobs. When she felt him take her hand she jerked and then, realizing who it was, wrapped her arms around him.
There was a cough from near the couch and a shuffling noise. Silhouetted against the light from outside, Rhes saw the thing he had wrestled with getting to its feet. It gestured over at him, looking at its companion.
“Karecomar pare culdad chesas vi nenka korare. Epilate.”
“Vame toh ker pove eso filan,” the first speaker answered back. “Sa pirnate echi bombar estibe sa?”
“Na se nen estibas, Saul.”
“Listro baje gaso.”
A third voice, thick with glee and malice, spoke from the shadows near Two’s bedroom. “Tao lirasemo ma emoar Saul. Teas hagimen ukia eso pikoti taravas.”
The first voice spoke now in English. “Good. Take her. I will deal with the other.”
“The fuck you will!” Rhes shouted.
“Big words from someone kneeling on the ground and staring out into the dark,” said the first voice, but the figure it belonged to made no immediate move forward.
Sarah was breathing hard, gripping his arm tightly but otherwise in control. Rhes kissed her forehead. “Pretty sure there’s going to be a fight, hon.”
“I figured that one out. Are you going to win?”
“Doubt it. Two’s vampires were stronger than God, remember?”
“These aren’t Two’s vampires.”
“Guess we’ll see, then.”
“Will someone call the cops?”
“Doubt it. This is New York, city of brotherly indifference.”
“I love you, Rhes.”
“I love you too,” he replied, glad to have had the chance to say it, knowing they were probably both going to die in this room.
“That’s very sweet,” said one of the vampires. In his mind’s eye, Rhes could see the mocking smile on its face.
“Push yourself into the corner,” Rhes told Sarah. He stood up, in front of her, watching as the black shapes began to advance.
“We can make this quick,” the one he had fought with said.
“Don’t do me any favors.”
He saw the figure shrug. “Have it your way.”
* * *
Rhes felt like he was being beaten with aluminum baseball bats. He was hurt, but not yet badly, and managed to stumble away from his attackers, bouncing off the couch and catching himself against the wall. Breathing sent a sharp pain stabbing up through his side, and he wondered if his ribs were broken.
He hadn’t given them the chance to get close to Sarah, had instead charged the entire group without warning, tackling the figure in the center. When they had landed, Rhes was on top, and he had pounded his fist into the side of his opponent’s head once, twice, a third time. Something had grabbed his arm and hauled him backward, and Rhes had found himself taking some comfort in the recognition that these creatures were not nearly as strong as the ones Two had described.
Rhes was a bouncer by profession, but he was not a fighter by nature. Now, though, energized by fear and a sort of instinctive hatred for the things that were attacking him, he was prepared to do whatever was necessary to stay alive. He pushed himself off of the wall, advancing again. The shadows closed the distance – they were very fast – and began to pummel him again. It hurt, a lot, but he tried to ignore it, swinging with his own fists and hoping to connect. Though it seemed much longer to Rhes, the fight lasted only a few seconds before he was thrown clear again, bruised and bleeding.
“Get the girl,” the one that seemed to be in charge said, and one of the shadows broke off from the pack and moved toward the corner where Sarah sat huddled. She cried out Rhes’s name.
Shouting, he charged in that direction, but the other two vampires intercepted him and began to pummel him again. Rhes couldn’t feel the blows now, wasn’t even paying attention to them. All he seemed able to focus on was Sarah’s screaming. Was she hurt or just afraid? He felt his body weakening, but it seemed distant, unimportant.
Sarah’s screams were cut off, but not by any action of the three vampires. The one vampire had only just grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her to her feet when a shout came that overrode all of the other noises in the room, cutting them off and giving pause to all of the apartments’ occupants. The words were in a language that Rhes and Sarah could not understand, but they took the meaning just the same. Someone had arrived, and he was not happy.
“San mortemon nanta hortati. Ayme chemtapon!”
Rhes was aware of movement, faster by far than these things that had assaulted him seemed capable of. He was suddenly freed from his attackers’ grip, and it was only then that he realized his legs would no longer support him. Rhes toppled to the floor, landing on his back on the plush carpet. The world seemed to be spinning even though it was too dark to see it. He heard confused shouting in a mix of English and the vampire language. Then the screams began, hideous and agonized, but Sarah’s voice was not among them. The sounds were interspersed with thick, wet thudding noises that Rhes associated with the butcher shop down the street from his apartment.
And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. There was only breathing and blackness.
Chapter 8
Set in Motion
“Let me be sure I have this right. You claim to be the girl that Theroen chose to make his bride?”
Stephen’s voice was tinged with incredulity and something that bordered on disgust. The tone of his words cut through her despair, and Two looked up at him, eyes narrowing.
“That’s right. Why?”
“I’d not expect such poor taste from an Eresh-Chen.”
“Stephen Connelly!” Naomi hissed. She couldn’t seem to find the words to begin chastising him. Two only tilted her head, looked at Stephen, waited for his explanation.
“For Christ’s sake, Naomi, listen to her. ‘Kill me,’ she says. What a great load of weak, pathetic bullshit.”
“You will not speak like this to the one who killed Abraham!”
Naomi was on her feet now, blocking most of Two’s view of Stephen with her rump. Two supposed that many a man and likely no small number of women had admired this view over the centuries. Currently, Two was more interested in what Stephen had to say than whatever Naomi had to flaunt. She leaned to one side and watched.
Stephen was looking up at Naomi, his expression skeptical. “Aye, she says she killed him. I cannot believe that anyone capable of such an act would then simply roll over and give up at the first sign that things might not go the way she wants them to.”
“You have no idea what she’s been through.”
“I don’t care what she’s been through!”
“Stephen, I—” Naomi began, and Two interrupted.
“What are my options?”
Stephen looked over at her and said, “I haven’t finished thinking of them all, I’m sure, but I’ll give you what I’ve got off the top of my head. Let me assure you that none of the ones coming to mind include lying down and dying.”
Two motioned for Naomi to sit down and looked again at Stephen.
“Good,” she said. “So tell me.”
Stephen shrugged. “You are Eresh-Chen. That means ‘child of Eresh’ in our language, but that’s not all it means. That title is reserved only for a select
few. You are part of an unbroken line that has been traced for almost five thousand years.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means many things. First, it means that every point in that line, from Eresh through Abraham to Theroen and yourself, are first-children. As far as we know, Eresh was the first vampire. By blood, you are her direct heir, and blood – ‘tah’ in our language – is the only thing that has ever mattered to us.
“If you die, the line dies. There are some – and at times I’ve been among them – who would dearly like to see it happen. Abraham was an oppressor, a thing of pure evil, and we had only Naomi’s word that his son was anything else.”
“That should be enough,” Naomi muttered.
“And for me, it is. That and your lovely personality,” Stephen said, flashing her a brilliant grin.
Naomi rolled her eyes. “You’d think the word of a member of Kharas would carry a bit more weight.”
“I don’t understand why any of this matters,” Two said. “I’m a human. Whatever blood was in me is gone, at least mostly … Maybe there’s enough so that Naomi could tell I’d been a vampire once, but that’s about it.”
“That doesn’t matter, or at least it shouldn’t. Two, you’re Eresh-Chen. Not only that, but you managed to kill one of the oldest vampires left on the planet, a being who had kept the entire American council under his boot for centuries. You have more of a right to the blood than anyone else in the world. You’re going to let them deny you that because of some foolish law from five thousand years ago?”
Two leaned forward, met Stephen’s gaze, did not look away.
“I’ll ask again: what are my options?”
Stephen nodded. He sat back on the couch and began to tick the items off on his fingers. “First, I’d try appealing to the council. If that fails, then second, I would try to find a vampire who doesn’t obey council laws. If that didn’t work, then the third thing I’d try would be to take the blood by force. And fourth, if pressed, I would start killing vampires until the council relented.”
“Stephen …” Naomi was looking at the floor, shaking her head.
Blood Hunt Page 11
