by Will Hill
“You stay, Valeri,” said Prince Vlad. “I would speak to you for a moment.”
“Of course, my lord,” said Valeri. He could not keep the pleasure out of his voice. His status as the Prince’s favourite was a position he had always guarded with great jealousy.
While Valentin and Alexandru got to work, hiding their scowls from their lord, Prince Vlad led Valeri away, over the brow of a low hill. Soon, they were far enough away that the others would not hear them, beside a small grove of trees.
“I used to rise with the dawn,” Vlad mused, considering the sky to the east, which grew pale. “I considered each new day a gift. Now the coming light seems to me a curse.”
“Why so, my lord?” asked Valeri, in a low voice.
“It matters not,” replied Vlad.
“My lord, this is far from the end, for either of us,” said Valeri, fiercely. “Today was a frustration, nothing more. In time, we will restore your rightful position, I swear it.”
Vlad stared blankly at his faithful servant for a long moment, then laughed.
“You speak of the battle,” he said. “Of the throne of Wallachia. Of course you do. You do not yet see how little they matter.”
Valeri’s brow furrowed. “How little they matter, my lord?”
“Yes, Valeri. How little anything matters. How unimportant everything has become. But I will show you. I will show you how the world has changed. Approach me.”
“As you wish, my lord,” replied Valeri, and walked towards his master. “What is it…”
But before he could finish the question, his master was upon him. Vlad’s eyes blazed a terrible unnatural red, and his lips were peeled back in an expression that looked close to lustful. His hand closed round Valeri’s throat and he pressed his oldest servant to the cold ground. Even as his master’s fingers sank into the flesh at his throat, even as he looked up into the swirling red of Vlad’s eyes, Valeri’s first instinct was still not to resist; he stared with bulging eyes, until his master spoke to him in a low voice.
“Do you trust me, Valeri?” hissed Vlad. “You swore that you would follow me until death. Will you follow me beyond it?”
Valeri took a shallow breath between the bands of pressure caused by his master’s fingers. His answer required no thought whatsoever, even through his pain and confusion.
“I will… follow you… to the ends of the earth… my lord.”
Vlad smiled, an expression robbed of all levity by the roiling crimson of his eyes. “Then give me your arm,” he said.
Valeri raised his trembling left arm before him. Vlad gripped it with his free hand, and Valeri watched, uncomprehending, as his master opened his mouth to reveal two pointed white fangs emerging from beneath his upper lip. Then the mouth closed over his arm, and Valeri felt pain, for the briefest second, as they punctured his skin. A thin trickle of blood ran round his arm as Vlad closed his eyes. Valeri felt an awful moment of suction, and then it passed. His master threw back his head for a long moment, then looked back down at his servant, his eyes returned to their usual pale blue.
“It is done,” Vlad breathed. “Dress your arm, then go to your brothers. Tell them I would see them.”
Valeri sat up, and looked at his arm. Two small round holes stood out on his flesh, neat and barely bleeding. He pressed his other hand over it, then regarded his master with confusion in his eyes.
“My lord,” he said, in a trembling voice. “I apologise. I don’t understand.”
“It doesn’t matter,” replied Vlad. “I do. Go to Alexandru and Valentin, and remember what you said. To the ends of the earth, my most loyal friend. To the ends of the earth.”
89 DAYS TILL ZERO HOUR
17
FAMILY TIES
Kate Randall woke up with no idea of where she was.
Before she even opened her eyes, she knew she was somewhere unfamiliar; the bed beneath her body was different, as was the feel of the covers against her skin and the smell of the air around her.
She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling above her. For a moment, she resisted raising her head and solving the mystery; the ceiling above her was white and featureless, and there was no discernible sound. She knew she was probably in the Loop, or somewhere similar, because the ceiling had a featureless, utilitarian quality to it, and the absence of noise led her to conclude she was somewhere safe, somewhere secure. Then the events in the shipyard, temporarily lost in the fog of just-waking and the after-effects of sedatives, crawled into her mind, and she realised she was in the infirmary.
Kate had only been in the wide, white room once before, the day after she accepted her commission into Blacklight. Jamie had wanted her to see the teenage boy who had been down here – Matt, his name was Matt – but they had found the door to the room in which he was lying guarded by Operators from the Security Division. They would not explain why they were there, or why Jamie and Kate were not allowed to see him, and they had been forced to leave, disappointed. They had later heard along with everyone else in the Loop that the boy had woken up from his coma with no memory. As a result, he had been placed under the strictest quarantine, to prevent him learning anything about where he was, or what had happened to him; it was a precaution that might mean he was able to return home and pick up his life where it had left off.
“How are you feeling?” asked a familiar voice.
She turned her head to one side, and saw Larissa sitting in the chair beside her bed, a worried look on her face. Kate gave her a smile that she hoped was encouraging, and pushed herself up against her pillows.
“Not bad,” she replied, hearing the croak in her voice. She reached for the glass of water standing on the bedside table, drank half of it and felt instantly better. “Not too bad at all, considering.”
“That’s good,” said Larissa, and smiled. “You’re completely clear of infection. The transfusion was a complete success.”
Kate nodded. She didn’t know how to respond; delight at having avoided being turned into a vampire, although perfectly reasonable, seemed unkind given that she was talking to one, a vampire who also happened to be her best friend.
“You’re allowed to be relieved about that,” said Larissa, as though reading her mind. “I won’t be offended.”
Kate grinned. Then Larissa reached out, curled her fingers round her hand and squeezed it tight.
“I have to tell you something,” said Larissa, her voice suddenly low. “I know this isn’t the best time, but I should have told you ages ago, and I didn’t, and now I just have to or I’m going to burst.”
Finally, thought Kate. Finally, it comes out.
“It’s OK,” she said, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible. “You can tell me, whatever it is.”
“It’s about Jamie,” Larissa said, her face pale, her throat working as though she was physically struggling to get the words out. “About Jamie and me.”
“What about you and Jamie?”
“We’ve been seeing each other,” said Larissa, and an expression of misery and shame burst across her face. “For the last two months.”
Kate felt sadistic pleasure spill through her.
At last, she thought. Now I get to tell you exactly what I think about this; about all the lies, and all the secrets.
“I know,” she began. “I’ve known since the very beginning. How stupid do you—” Then she stopped, and stared in horror at her friend.
Larissa was crying.
The vampire girl’s head was lowered, and her chest was heaving up and down. As Kate watched, tears began to run down her cheeks and patter softly to the floor.
The anger she had been holding deep within herself for months was instantly gone. She no longer had any desire to tell Larissa off; all she cared about, she realised, was that her best friend was crying, and needed her.
“Hey,” said Kate. “It’s OK. Don’t cry, it’s OK, honestly it is.”
Larissa lifted her head, and glowing red eyes stared straight int
o Kate.
“It’s not OK,” she said, fiercely. “None of it’s OK. It’s all going bad.”
Kate looked at her, but said nothing; it was obvious that there was more Larissa wanted to get off her chest.
“It’s not fair for me to want to talk to you about this,” she continued. “I know it isn’t, not after we kept such a big secret from you. Or thought we had at least. But I’ve got no one else to talk to, and you’re my best friend, and I just…”
She broke off, turning her face to the ceiling, staring at the flat white plaster above her. Her tears reflected the burning crimson of her eyes; they looked like little drops of fire as they rolled down her cheeks.
“You can talk to me,” said Kate, gently. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”
Larissa returned her gaze to her friend, and forced a tiny smile.
“I feel like I’m losing him,” she said, eventually. “To this place, to this awful uniform.” She pulled at the black material covering her legs, and snarled at the very feel of it against her skin. “To the way people like that nasty slut Angela Darcy look at him because of what his surname is and what he did to Alexandru, to a bunch of old men who died a century ago. I can’t compete with that; I can’t compete with something that everyone in this building tells him is his destiny.”
“Have you talked to him?” asked Kate. “Does he know you feel like this?”
“Of course not,” said Larissa. “He’d tell me he’s just doing his job, trying to be the best Operator he can be. And maybe that’s all it is. Maybe this is all just in my head. But I don’t think so. If I asked him to choose between me and this place, I don’t think he’d even hesitate.”
“He’s not doing it maliciously,” said Kate, carefully. “You have to believe that. He’s never belonged anywhere in his life. Here he has his mum, and you, and me, and people respect him. Admire him even. You have to see what that must be like for him.”
“I do,” sighed Larissa, and her eyes momentarily reverted to their usual beautiful dark brown. “But he’s starting to enjoy it, Kate; he likes being at the middle of everything, likes being a descendant of the founders. And that’s not him. The old him, I mean.”
Kate resisted the urge to ask Larissa what she expected; she had only known Jamie for three months, both of them had. The intensity of their experience often made it feel longer, sometimes made it feel like a lifetime, but it wasn’t. It was hardly any time at all.
“Then you have to talk to him,” Kate said, firmly. “You don’t have to make it a fight. But you have to make him see that how he’s behaving is hurting you.”
“I know,” said Larissa, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re right. Oh God, I’m sorry, Kate, this is so bloody teenage of me.”
“It’s OK,” smiled Kate. “You don’t have to be superhuman all the time. It’s all right.”
“There’s something else,” said Larissa. “I think he knows about you and Shaun. He hinted at it last night, before we got into a fight. I think he saw something in the chopper on the way back.”
“Did you tell him he was right?” asked Kate.
“No,” said Larissa, but her face twisted into a momentary grimace. The heavy weight of all the secrets and lies was beginning to take its toll on them all. “You asked me not to tell him, so I haven’t. But I think he knows.”
Kate sighed. “I suppose he was always going to find out eventually,” she said. “I would have liked to have been the one to tell him, but what’s done is done. I’ll talk to him next time I see him, try to make him understand. But you need to go and talk to him now, before this turns into something serious. Right?”
Larissa nodded, but there was no conviction in her face. She looked miserable, and completely exhausted.
“I’ll go and find him,” she said. “Fingers crossed for me, OK?”
She forced half a smile, and Kate returned it with a fierce grin, full of love.
“Always,” she replied.
Jamie Carpenter closed the door to his quarters, turned right down the corridor and saw Larissa making her way down the corridor towards him.
He felt his heart sink instantly; she was moving quickly, floating a few centimetres above the ground, which was never a good sign. Larissa kept her vampire abilities as hidden as possible when she was inside the Loop; there were still plenty of Operators who thought it was a betrayal of everything Blacklight stood for to let a vampire wear the uniform, no matter what she had done to help them on Lindisfarne. Flying along the corridor like she was meant one of two things: she was either nervous, or she was angry. And Jamie had a feeling that whichever it was, it was unlikely to be good for him.
Larissa floated to a halt in front of him.
“I’m sorry for how I behaved,” she said. “But I think we need to talk. Don’t you?”
Jamie nodded, then unlocked his door and held it open. She floated inside, and sat on the edge of his narrow bed. Jamie closed the door, and turned towards her; she was sitting in a weirdly formal way, her back straight, her knees together, her hands at her sides.
She looks like she’s here for an interview, he thought, feeling a flutter of panic in his chest. Jesus, this might be worse than I thought.
“Everything all right?” he asked, forcing lightness into his voice.
Larissa didn’t reply. The expression on her face was blank, and for some reason this worried Jamie more than anything else. The vampire girl had many qualities, but being hard to read was not one of them; she wore her emotions on her sleeve, and on her face. It was normally obvious what she was thinking, or feeling; it was something Jamie relied on enormously.
“OK,” he said, and walked across his quarters. He pulled his chair out from beneath his desk, spun it to face her and sat down. “I’m going to take that as a ‘no’ then.”
Then Larissa told him something that punched every molecule of air from his lungs.
“I told Kate about us,” she said. Her tone was neutral, almost pleasant, but it froze him to his chair.
“What?” Jamie managed. “You did what?”
“I told Kate about me and you,” she replied. “I didn’t want to lie to her any more. We should have told her the truth from the start.”
Be calm be calm be calm be calm.
“You didn’t want to lie to her any more?” asked Jamie, each syllable as heavy as the beating of a drum. “So you thought the best thing to do was to tell her we’ve been lying to her? For two months? Without even telling me you were going to do it? That’s what you thought was the right thing to do?”
He was shouting now, as the enormity of what she had done began to register; he could hear his voice rising with each word.
Kate will never forgive me for this. Never. Larissa will get a free pass because she’s the one who told, but me? Not a chance.
“Yes,” Larissa replied. “I couldn’t do it any more. It was wrong, Jamie, you know it was wrong.”
For a brief moment, when she said his name, Larissa’s face softened, and if Jamie had been watching, he would have seen the desperation and misery on her pale, beautiful face. But he wasn’t; rage, now rampaging unchecked through his mind, blinded him to what was really in front of him.
“Of course it was wrong!” he yelled. “Just like it was wrong of you to let me think you could help me find my mother! She could have died while we wasted time on your stupid wild goose chase, but did I ever hold it against you? No, I didn’t. I forgave you, and we moved on. And this is how you repay me, by going behind my back and sabotaging my friendship with Kate? For what?”
Sitting on the bed, her expression unchanging, Larissa felt like Jamie had stabbed her in the heart.
His words cut her more deeply than he could imagine. What Jamie said was true; she had led them into the wilds of northern Scotland, claiming to be able to uncover the location of Alexandru Rusmanov, and therefore the location of Marie Carpenter. Jamie had been desperate to believe her, and she had used that, us
ed the way he looked at her, to get what she wanted, which was revenge on the man who had condemned her to life as a vampire.
It had been a cruel, heartless thing to do, but it had been her only option; Jamie still didn’t understand how scared she had been in her cell on the detention level, how desperate. She had been sure she was about to be destroyed every time she heard footsteps echo down the long corridor, sure that an Operator in a black uniform was going to appear with a T-Bone in his hands and execute her where she stood.
“I’m sorry,” she managed, her voice little more than a whisper.
This had all gone so badly wrong.
She had wanted to come clean about Kate and move on to her and Jamie; she had never meant to make him this angry, never thought that telling what she had done would push him to a place where he would bring up Marie. Now she was defenceless; there was no way for her to atone for what she had done, and they both knew it.
The pain in Larissa’s voice pulled Jamie back from the brink, from the point where his temper would overwhelm him completely and he might easily say things that could never be taken back. He took a deep breath, and looked at Larissa.
“Kate’s keeping secrets too,” he said. “It wasn’t just us. There’s something going on between her and Shaun Turner, I’d swear to it.”
Larissa looked at him, her eyes wide, and Jamie realised what she was going to say a millisecond before she said it.
Oh no.
“I know,” said Larissa.
The fight flooded out of Jamie, and he slumped in his chair.
“What do you mean, you know?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.
“She told me,” Larissa replied. “About a month ago. Not long after it started.”
Lies, thought Jamie. So many lies. So many secrets. I don’t know which way to turn any more.
“Did she tell you not to tell me?” he asked.
Larissa nodded.
“And that was fine with you?” he said. “You were happy to just go along with that?”
