by Craig Zerf
‘So,’ he said. ‘You have nothing.’
Penelope scowled slightly but did not argue, she simply kept flicking through her unnecessary slide show.
‘Redouble our efforts,’ instructed Nathan. ‘Money is no object. Hire whoever we need. Saturate the whole of Europe. This is our only priority.’
Penelope nodded, stopped flicking and turned her iPad off as she stood up and headed for the door.
Nathan watched her go, savoring her walk. Smooth, sensual and controlled. For a human she walked with real grace. That and the fact that she was so efficient were the only two things that had stopped him draining her life’s blood. So far.
As she was about to close the door it struck him.
‘Wait,’ he commanded. ‘Come back here.’
Penelope glanced back at him, consternation on her face. And fear, although she hid that well.
‘Sit down,’ said Nathan. ‘Those boring pictures. The airfields. Show them to me again.’
Penelope didn’t question why she simply turned the iPad back on, flicked through to the relevant photos and paged through them.
‘Stop,’ said Nathan. He leaned over and snatched the iPad from her hand. Staring at the picture. Then he stroked the screen, enlarging, centering. Focusing on one particular person standing next to a stretched limousine in the background.
He handed the pad back to Penelope. ‘It’s out of focus. Can you clear that up? I need to see who that person is.’
Penelope took a look. ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘It’s in the background, that’s why it’s not in focus. It wasn’t actually what the agent was photographing. Hold on,’ she brought up the keyboard and downloaded a focus magic app. Then she applied it to the photo in question. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘That did it.’
Nathan stared at the screen in disbelief. ‘Impossible,’ he whispered. ‘How could they have let her live? How could she let herself live?’
‘Who, my lord?’ Asked Penelope.
Nathan pointed. ‘Emily Shadowhunter. I turned her. It’s protocol for a Shadowhunter to kill themselves or to at least ensure that their colleagues kill them rather than become Nosferatu.’
‘But, my lord, you were a Shadowhunter,’ pointed out the assistant.
‘I was turned through choice,’ he said. ‘To her it was her worst nightmare. It was meant to be a death sentence.’ He dragged his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so. ‘Instead I may have simply enhanced her power.’
Penelope looked away, unsure how to react. It was the first time she had seen Nathan show any real emotion. And it distressed her that the emotion that he was showing was so obviously fear. For if he was scared then she knew that she should be terrified.
‘What have I done?’ Whispered Nathan. ‘What have I created?’ He sat down. ‘Penelope, make copies of this photo. The girl and her companions. Make sure that everyone gets a copy. And I mean everyone. From now on our primary goal is to find Emily and her friends and neutralize them. Kill them all. Even the Potestatum is now secondary.’
Penelope stood and paused for a second, waiting for more instructions. ‘Do it,’ snapped Nathan. ‘Now. The death of that bitch is out number one priority. Nothing else matters.’
Chapter 21
‘So let me get this straight,’ said Otto as he pointed at Tag. ‘You have immortality, but you’re not a Vamp.’
Tag nodded. ‘Not sure if I’m immortal, I can’t be killed but maybe I still age. Not sure yet.’
‘Fine,’ conceded Otto. ‘And you are a Werewolf?’
Troy nodded.
‘Where do we stand on WereWolves?’ Otto asked Muller.
Muller shrugged. ‘According to Church doctrine they don’t exist. So I suppose they’re fine.’
‘Fine, and you,’ he said to Sylvian. ‘Can’t go out in the sun, have immortality, speed, fangs and strength but you aren’t a Vampire either.’
‘Correct,’ said Sylvian. ‘I don’t drink human blood.’
Finally Otto pointed at Emily. ‘And you are a Vampire but you don’t want to be and are searching for the Potestatum to cure yourself.’
Emily nodded.
Otto sighed. ‘Man,’ he said. ‘One out of four. I’d say that our intelligence reports were a little off. Sorry about shooting you,’ he said to Tag.
‘Yeah, that did hurt,’ admitted the big man. ‘I owe you one.’
Otto grimaced.
‘Well then, it appears that we are, to all intents and purposes, on the same side,’ declared Muller. ‘So, do you mind if we join forces? Seems like we stick around with you we could get to killing a few Vamps. Also, we can be of great help.’
Sylvian looked at the rest of the group who all nodded their acceptance. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘But I am in charge.’
Muller smiled. ‘Good, I’m sick of making decisions.’
‘First things first,’ declared the Bloodborn. ‘We rest. Tomorrow we find a way to get to Cluj without being seen.’
***
‘It’s a tour bus,’ said Tag.
‘Yep,’ agreed Muller. ‘I called in a favor from a friend.’
It was night and a fine mist of rain filled the air. The sodium street lights glistened off the side of the bus, picking out the blacked windows and the huge neon pink sign writing on the side.
It read – “The Bojangles Goth Experience”.
‘I hate Goths,’ said Tag.
‘But it’s great cover,’ insisted Muller. ‘Goth band. Love the night. Black windows. Be as weird as we want. It’s hiding in the open. The best way to go undercover.’
‘Why can’t we simply fly like we have been?’ Asked Troy.
‘Maybe it’s just that I’m a paranoid SOB,’ said Muller. ‘But I always assume that someone is looking for me. And you. If we work with that assumption then we must remember how easily I found you. If we have a common enemy, and I am sure that we do, then they will be watching private airfields, train stations that type of thing. They won’t be expecting us to be traveling as a rock band.’
‘How long will it take us to get to Cluj?’ Asked Sylvian.
‘Twenty four hours or so. We’ll leave Italy via Slovenia then through Hungary and finally into Romania. We can sleep on the bus.’
Sylvian nodded. ‘It’s a good idea. Who’s driving?’
‘We’ll take turns,’ said Otto. ‘Muller first.’
‘Right then,’ confirmed Sylvian. ‘Let’s load up and head out.’
‘Like all combat trained troops they traveled light. A change of clothes, bedding, food and water, weapons and ammunition. The bus was loaded in under half an hour.
Before they left, Tag took Emily aside. They boarded the bus last and Emily sat at the back by herself.
Otto sat down next to Tag, pulled out a silver flask and offered it.
Tag took a slug and then shook his head. ‘Ouch. What the hell is that?’
‘It’s called Eau de vie. The water of life. It’s made in the village where I come from. They get wine and then they distil the alcohol out of it. One hundred and eighty percent proof. Then everyone has their own recipe. This one has orange peels, brown sugar and cloves added. Then you leave it for a year or two, strain it, drink it.’
He took a sip and handed the flask back to Tag who took another mouthful.
‘Actually, it’s pretty good,’ he admitted. ‘Once you get over the initial shock.’
‘So,’ said Otto. ‘The Vampire, it feeds off you?’
Tag nodded.
‘Man, that’s harsh,’ noted Otto.
Tag shrugged. ‘It’s less than pleasant. But it’s worse for her. In fact, it’s slowly killing her. I can feel her losing the will to live. To keep going. You see, if it were up to the girly she would be dead. Basically we forced her to keep going. We forced her to become the thing that she hated most. We made her the personification of her own worst nightmare.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we love her,’ said Troy as he sat
down with the two big men. ‘And I don’t think that I could stand to lose her. Whatever she becomes.’
‘Heavy,’ responded Otto.
At the back of the bus Emily sat still. She could hear every word that Tag and Otto and Troy said.
She could hear the electric clock on the dashboard. The sound of the diesel as it moved along the fuel pipes. Birds outside. Traffic.
Everything.
And she could hear their blood. Rushing through their veins and arteries and capillaries. Hot and red and delicious. It made her sick with desire. She closed her eyes and sank into the chair.
The only creature that she hated more than Nathan Tremblay was the monster that she had become.
She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. Awake in her very own nightmare.
Chapter 22
They crossed the border from Italy to Slovenia at some time after midnight. There was a cursory border check and they were waved through. After two more hours of driving they ran into road works, Diversions, one way systems and choke points that slowed their progress to a crawl.
Emily lay down in one of the sleeping cubicles, staring out at the passing landscape. Even with her enhanced eyesight it was hard to make out much through the darkened windows in the middle of the night. Mountains, sparsely populated. Patches of snow.
Eventually she slept.
She woke the next morning to the smell of coffee. The sun was up but the depth of the tinting on the windows cut out most the UV light so it did her no harm at all. The bus was still crawling along but now it was not due to any road works. It was due to the weather. The wind drove the snow almost horizontally across the road. Icicles hung off trees and the sky was the color of pewter.
‘Hey sleepy,’ called Troy. ‘Do you want to try some coffee? We stopped and picked some up when we filled the gas tank.’
Emily shook her head, the mere thought of coffee making her nauseous.
Tag caught her eye and gave her a quizzical look but she shook her head again. She would only feed when she absolutely had to. She knew the pain that she put the big man through and it was almost too much for her to bear.
Otto was driving and Muller’s light snoring was audible above the noise of the diesel engine as he caught up on sleep, lying down in one of the opposite cubicles, the curtains drawn shut. Troy had found a Play Station and was playing some TV game involving cartoon worms and hand grenades as far as Em could make out. Tag simply sat and stared out of the window, sipping on his coffee.
Emily lay back in her bed and closed her eyes. Not sleeping but not really bothering to stay awake, hovering in that twilight zone in-between both states.
When she next opened her eyes it was almost nightfall again and Muller was driving. If anything the weather had worsened.
Emily stood up and walked to the front.
‘Where are we’ She asked Muller.
‘Good evening,’ he responded. ‘How are you?’
Em smiled. ‘Sorry. I’m fine. And you?’
‘Tired. It’s a real bitch driving in this weather. We’re in Hungary. Crossed over a few hours back. They didn’t even bother to check our passports.’
Em peered out at the vista but it was difficult to make out much through the driving snow and the darkness. ‘What’s Hungary like?’ She asked.
Muller shrugged. ‘The church is strong here. Around half of them are Catholics. Physically, fairly flat, a couple of big lakes and rivers, lots of agriculture. The people are a bit like Russians, depressed, dour. Serious organized crime problem. Particularly human trafficking. Sex slaves. Apparently over a fifth of all people trafficking in the world originates in this country. Young girls, kidnapped, made to take drugs until they are hopelessly addicted and then distributed throughout Europe like so much cattle. Forced to become whores for their new masters. Beaten, deprived of all humanity and condemned to a premature death.’ The knight shook his head in disgust. ‘Man’s inhumanity to man,’ he said sadly.
‘“Many and sharp the num’rous ills,” quoted Emily.
“Inwoven with our frame!
More pointed still we make ourselves,
Regret, remorse, and shame!
And man, whose heav’n-erected face
The smiles of love adorn,—
Man’s inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn.”’
‘You know Robert Burns?’ Asked Muller with surprise.
Emily nodded. ‘Sort of,’ she said. ‘I sort of seem to know everything.’
Muller raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
‘I’m going to head for some place to stop,’ he said. ‘We need more diesel, food, a break. Stretch the legs.’
A sign hove into view. Budapest 100km.
‘One hundred kilometers,’ grunted Muller. ‘Should take us a couple of hours in this weather. We’ll stop on the outskirts. Any filling station with a restaurant close by.’
The next two hours trundled by with both Tag and Troy becoming more and more irritable as they started to feel hemmed in. Tag stalked up and down the bus while Troy sat with an unlit cigarette in his mouth and studiously ignored everyone. Otto had become engrossed in Troy’s Play station worms game and Sylvian sat upright and still in his seat as if he were waiting for a doctor’s appointment.
Finally the outskirts of the city of Budapest came into view. Scattered light manufacturing centers, large dilapidated apartment blocks and rows of shops.
Muller pulled in at a likely service station that had an attached restaurant. He stopped, exited and filled the tanks with diesel before paying and returning. Then he moved the bus to a parking outside the eatery and turned the engine off.
‘Right,’ he said, rubbing his hands together for warmth. ‘Let’s go eat lots of something hot.’
All of them headed for the door except for Tag who hung back with Emily.’ Go on,’ he said. ‘Order for me. Whatever you dudes are having. I’ll catch up.’
Sylvian nodded and they left the bus, slamming the door closed behind them.
Twenty minutes later Tag walked into the restaurant on unsteady legs, moving slowly and deliberately, like an old man. His face was drawn in anguish.
‘You okay?’ Asked Sylvian.
Tag nodded.
‘And Emily?’
‘She’s in the bus. Didn’t want to come in.’
‘Mind if I ask a question?’ Enquired Otto.
Tag shook his head. ‘Ask away.’
‘You’re sort of immortal, right? I mean, I shot you ten times in the chest and you got up and kicked my ass. But after…well…you know…the Vampire thing, you look like you’re close to death. What, is it worse than being shot?’
Tag thought for a few seconds. ‘Immeasurably worse,’ he said, his voice low and hoarse. ‘I’m not sure about all Vamps, I only been fed on by one, but it’s like they take more than blood, you know. It’s like they take part of your soul. Part of the spark that is life. It’s like they feed on your essence as well as your flesh.’
‘It’s not normal,’ said Sylvian. ‘I suspect that Emily is different, due to her particular make up, her breeding, her family history. An unbroken line since the very first Shadowhunters. You see, the Vamps that we mainly deal with are Sanguine Vampires, blood drinkers. But there are other types although they are exceedingly rare. One of those is the Soul Vampire or soul sucker. Very dangerous, they feed on the life spark. I believe that Emily is a combination of both types. If they drain you dry you become a veritable zombie. A soulless walking undead.’ The Bloodborn took a deep breath. ‘This is not good,’ he continued. ‘We need to find the Potestatum soon. Or I fear that you will soon lose the ability to recover.’
‘Great,’ said Tag. ‘Well we shall cross that bridge when we come to it.’
As he spoke two waiters arrived with trays of food and started to fill the table.
‘What we get?’ Asked Tag.
‘Alfoldi Gulyas, Porkolds, Tolltott Kaposzta and Soproni.’ answered Otto.
>
‘What the hell is that when it’s at home?’
Otto laughed and pointed at the various dishes as he explained. ‘Soup, stew, cabbage, beer.’
Tag picked up a bottle of beer and chugged half of it down. ‘The beer I recognize he said. Now let’s eat.’
***
Emily carefully wiped the blood from her face and then changed her shirt for a fresh one. One without a large scarlet stain across the front.
As always, after feeding she felt stronger, her already preternatural senses heighted to a state of superhuman. But mentally she felt like she was literally choking on the darkness that enveloped her soul. She knew what she was doing to Tag. However much the brave Jamaican made light of the fact, she was slowly killing something inside him. Due to his gift of near immortality she knew that he would live…but would he still be truly alive?
She put a leather jacket on over her shirt, more for looks than practicality as she was no longer bothered by the cold. Then she stepped out of the bus into the near blizzard outside and decided to walk down the road for a bit. She simply couldn’t face sitting with the men, seeing them all attempting to act normally with her around, watching Tag flinch whenever she looked directly at him. Seeing the pity on Sylvian’s face. Feeling Troy’s thoughts via her link to all of the wereWolves.
It was all just too much and she needed to be alone for a while.
The wind howled and tore at her clothing and the snow and sleet stung her face. It scoured away her feelings of rectitude and melancholy as it swirled and moved about her. She had been walking for about ten minutes, simply following the road when the lights of a car approached her from behind. The vehicle slowed down as it passed her and she could see two men in the front. Middle aged, swarthy. They stared closely at her as they drove by and then, after a few yards, they stopped the car and reversed.
