The elevator slowed and then stopped. The doors opened with a soft chime, and Hector escorted her out, hand on her elbow. There was a small landing with three ornate doors, each leading in a different cardinal direction. Each had a security guard posted outside it. Dressed in black, they wore MPD bulletproof jackets and looked like very capable men. They eyed her dispassionately, and Hector nodded to the man in the middle who spoke into his Omni. Selah studied him. Broad chin, skin like sandpaper, lipless mouth. He looked strong and mean enough to strangle a live deer. The kind who would just dig in until the job was done.
“Let them in,” said a voice in response over the Omni. The guard stepped aside and opened the door. Hector prodded her forward, through the door and into a large, marble-floored entrance. The ceiling was low here, but three shallow steps ahead descended into a sweeping living room with fantastic views of Miami and the sunset. Hallways led off immediately to her right and left. No time to get her bearings, though. Hector hustled her forward with unnecessary roughness, down the steps, and then jerked her back as if she’d been about to sprint forward.
A huge continuous window wrapped around the wall before her, nearly floor to ceiling, and the view was stupendous. She gazed out over the darkened city, looking inland she realized, away from the ocean. A western view. The buildings rapidly lost size but a few blocks in, and then sprawled out in a seeming endless plain, crisscrossed by roads and avenues and sunken in a great verdant choking mass of trees. A few lights gleamed here and there, twinkling orange in the dusk, and in the distance she could see the sinuous line of the Wall, swooping all around the city and shining a with a thousand diamond-white pinpricks of lights. The spotlights.
It was the sky that caught her eyes, though, that held them. Miami had stunning skies, a vast canvas that seemed wider and deeper than any she’d seen in Brooklyn or elsewhere. The clouds piled upon each other like great anvils, mighty towering cumulus clouds that seemed to have been dipped in blood, their upper reaches already grown dark, fading to slate blues and lead grays, while their lower extremities were angry and inflamed, tinged by russets, crimsons, and burgundy. They spread out over the city, a floating battalion, a searing coruscation, so beautiful and striking that at first Selah didn’t even notice the other two men in the room.
They’d been content to wait, to study her as she stared out the windows, Hector’s hand still on her arm, fingers cruelly pinching her elbow. But their fixed attention drew her own, and she turned to look at them, heart lurching into her throat. The beauty outside had been one final blessing from the world, a last benediction. She couldn’t keep her mind out there, however. It was time to face her fate.
They were both vampires, and she knew one of them. She’d hoped that the Dragon might be present, that he might speak on her behalf, but he wasn’t, and now he never would. Instead, she saw the vampire from last night, dressed in a beige linen suit with a powder-blue shirt beneath. He was sprawled bonelessly in one of the chairs set at a dining table that seemed as long as a bowling alley lane. Was staring at her with undisguised hatred undercut by fear and made complicated by curiosity. Great.
The second vampire was the first’s opposite in every way. Where the first was handsome, languorous, almost feline, the second was dressed in an ill-fitting gray suit that failed to look sharp on his short, rotund form. He was in his mid-fifties perhaps, with an egg-shaped head that wasn’t helped by the thinning blond hair that failed to cover his scalp. Small, rimless glasses caught the light and at times became opaque, hiding his eyes, which for Selah was a blessing—never had she seen a gaze so cold, so penetrating, and analytical as that which came from his black eyes.
With a shock, Selah realized that she knew who he was. Karl Plessy, the chief of staff who served the first three presidents during the War, one after the other as each was vampirized until he too was taken. She had actually studied him in class. Was supposed to know what his policies had been, and why they’d generated so much controversy. Something about the first curfew? Executions? Selah couldn’t remember. She remembered Mr. Condarcuri explaining how Plessy had been the real power behind the third president, who’d once been the Speaker of the House. Something like that.
Selah realized she was staring. Karl met her gaze with ease, a slight smile on his small, soft lips. She dropped her eyes. What was he doing here? What was this about? Did he interview all suspected Resistance leaders?
“Thank you, Hector. That will be all,” said Karl. Hector let go of her elbow and did a little half bow, which might, under different circumstances, have been comical. He turned and marched out. Selah swallowed. She couldn’t believe she was actually wishing that Hector had stayed. “Good evening, Miss Brown. Would you like something to drink?”
Selah felt an almost manic urge to ask for some blood, but kept her lips sealed. Simply shook her head.
Karl nodded. “People in your situation never accept that first offer. It’s interesting. Accepting something as innocuous as a glass of water is almost invariably seen as a form of capitulation. As if by accepting it from me, you are surrendering in some form, revealing weakness. It’s quite a fascinating little exchange, really. I should stop asking, but I enjoy it so. Never mind.”
Selah watched him, confused by his genial tone, the light manner in which he spoke. He must’ve been trying to lower her guard. She stayed quiet.
“You have caused quite a fuss these past two days. Popped up on our radar with surprising frequency. First you trigger an alarm at Magnum over the sheer amount of bandwidth your recording used. Then you are rather predictably contacted by the Resistance. An opening that would’ve resulted in a nice little coup for us, had certain objectives been carried out in a more professional manner.”
At this, the other vampire stirred with annoyance, much like a snake might shift its coils if lightly poked with a stick.
“Still,” said Karl, “all of that is of a pedestrian nature. What has brought me here tonight in person is what happened after that. Most fascinating. A rarity that I have only read about in dusty tomes. One moment Charles here is rather impulsively drinking your blood, the next you are attacking Ekaterina on the Beach with sufficient speed and agility to actually make it hard to track you on our security cameras.”
Selah felt her stomach knot. She pursed her lips, kept her silence. Karl didn’t seem to mind.
“Charles here reports that he spent most of last night paralyzed by such an onslaught of emotion that he could barely act. How did you put it?” Karl turned to the other. “‘Regret, guilt, joy, the works’? Most interesting. Whereas you suddenly started gallivanting about town with all the apparent blessings of the vampiric state.”
Karl paused and studied her, that little smile still hovering on his lips. Selah looked away, stared at the clouds. They were growing ashen now, the last of the reds fading completely. There really was nothing for her to say.
“I myself am still learning much about my new condition,” said Karl. “Even seven years later, this can all feel quite new. Yet I have not wasted my time. I have always enjoyed research, and in all my studies and conversations, even with those whose embrace goes back hundreds of years, I have only ever heard of a case such as yours three times. In all the accumulated lore my kind has gathered! Could this be a similar case as those first three? If so, what an opportunity! What are its potential implications? How does it work? As you can imagine, the questions are significant, and in need a thorough, perhaps even scientific investigation.”
Those last words sent goosebumps down Selah’s arms and she clenched her fingers. She still refused to look at him. He’d done nothing more than speak gently, but already she hated him. Felt repulsed by his softness, distrusted his gentility completely. He had also failed to mention her father’s files. Had they not uncovered them? Or were they simply of no consequence in comparison to his interest in her blood? The silence stretched out. She tried to quiet her breathing, realized that hers was the only breath to be heard. Horror spre
ad through her.
“So you don’t want to know about the Resistance?” She couldn’t help but ask. Hope to redirect his attention.
Charles smirked, and Karl waved one hand as if knocking away a fly. “The Resistance? Hardly. I doubt you have much to tell me, and really, they aren’t much of a problem. This is infinitely more fascinating. However.” Selah looked at him at this last. His smile had disappeared, so that he looked like a solemn child. “If I am new to this new existence, Charles is but a babe. How long has it been, my good friend, since you joined our ranks?”
“You know very well,” said Charles, his voice sullen, almost sulky.
“Five months? Did you know that Charles sought us out?” Karl turned back to Selah. She looked to Charles and saw his brow contract with anger. He gazed out the window. “Indeed,” continued Karl. “He is one of the Nouveau Vampires. That’s a play on the term nouveau riche, you see. They were the merchant upstarts who made so much money, they managed to insinuate themselves amongst the nobility, back in the day. They often married their way into noble families, or simply purchased outright a title complete with coat of arms and obligatory honors.”
Selah watched with dawning realization as Charles fought for calm. He’s being punished, she realized. My presence is being used to humiliate him.
“And so in such manner has dear Charles come to us. He paid the blood fee of a hundred million dollars with Daddy’s money, and then flew in under the cover of secrecy to receive the embrace. Not the first, not the last, but perhaps a warning to us that we need to scrutinize our applications more carefully in the future.”
Charles slammed the flat of his palm down on the table and shot to his feet, turning to glare at Karl who returned the look with an air of innocent surprise. Charles opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to choke on his words.
Karl raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Charles? You have something to say?”
Charles shot Selah a look of pure venom. His hatred for her had just doubled, she realized. Great. Thanks, Karl. “I was promised equality. What is this ‘Nouveau Vampire’ bullshit?”
“My dear Charles,” said Karl, shaking his head, “we may have seceded from the United States, but this is still in effect a very crude meritocracy. Nobody here is ‘equal.’ You, for example, are not my equal. You, as my creation, are my inferior, by quite a large degree.” The gentle voice slowly grew merciless, bright and precise as a surgical tool. “If you want respect, you will have to earn it, and squandering an opportunity to catch two members of the Resistance by running in and getting shot is not the way to do it. Especially if you then spend the rest of the night on the floor crying like a little child with soiled underwear.”
Charles’s mouth snapped open again, and his fists tightened so that she heard his knuckles pop. Karl met his gaze with complete calm. Invisible chains of intensity and fury seemed to coil through the air around Charles, who was clearly fighting for self control. Selah willed herself to not step back and in so doing draw attention. Finally, Charles looked down. He nodded jerkily, and with extremely poor grace sat back down.
Karl watched him for a moment longer, and then turned back to Selah. “Where were we?” She didn’t for a moment believe that he had lost track of their conversation. “Ah, yes. Charles reporting strange feelings after drinking your blood. Your consequent behavior. Had it been any other vampire, well, I would take them at their word. It being Charles, however, I shall have to verify his experience myself.”
Selah’s mind began to race. Karl seemed to be more powerful than Charles. If he drank from her, and the same effect repeated itself, then it was possible that she’d gain his power. Would be able to overpower Charles and escape. She could make a beeline for the Wall, and hurl herself over it, move faster than the soldiers could react. Perhaps—but the—oh, Lord, what of her grandmother? She tried to remain calm, to think. The embassy. Could she strike a deal?
She looked at Karl. At his soft flesh, its doughy appearance. Tried to stifle the repulsion. Raised her chin. “Hurry up, then.”
“Oh, no,” he said, “you misunderstand me. I am not going to sample your wares. Charles will.”
“What?” demanded Charles, staring at Karl. “Again?”
“Must I repeat myself?” Karl’s smile was completely devoid of humor. “Again.”
Charles looked at Selah. He stood so abruptly that the chair fell over with a crash. He stared at her in such a manner that made Selah feel naked. There it was again, beneath his anger, beneath his personality even. Beneath everything that could be understood as “Charles,” there it was. That hunger, that need. As if his being “Charles” was but a masquerade, that beneath all the words and poses, the clothing and even the flesh, there was only this roiling darkness of need and voracious hunger. He stared at her, and then nodded.
Before she could react, he rounded the table and walked toward her. Selah began to back away. She could see them now, his fangs, could see their milky white and slender lengths, having descended somehow from where they’d been hidden. His eyes were livid now with hunger, as if having agreed to go through with this, there was no longer any need to pretend that he was ever other than famished, always and forever, for tonight and through the rest of his eternal existence.
Selah raised her arms, not wanting him close. Let him, a voice whispered in the back of her mind, a voice that craved that sweet pleasure again, that overwhelming wave of orgasmic sensation that had swept her away when he’d bitten her neck the night before. Let him, whispered a second voice, the voice of cold reason, knowing that through that kiss would come power and speed, would turn her once more into a weapon that could perhaps survive the night. No, whispered her truest voice, never.
She turned and ran. Made blindly for one of the hallways, knowing as she did so she wouldn’t get far, but unable to simply stand and let Charles take her. Which he did, anyway. She had managed but one step when he had her by the neck, his fingers like ingots of steel, clamped around the base of her skull so that fiery pain made her knees buckle and she cried out in agony. She was on her tiptoes, she realized, legs almost kicked out from under her, hands clawing at his forearm. The pain was all consuming, and then he let her go and she fell to the ground in a crouch. Tears filled her eyes and she heard him laugh. Standing behind her, looking down at her, laughing with pleasure and cruelty and delight.
Selah didn’t think. She turned and rose and buried her knee as hard as she could between his legs. It was like trying to knee a statue. Pain blossomed in her knee and she crashed to the ground holding her leg, the pain in her neck yet throbbing. Charles looked down at her in contempt.
“I am no longer a man, Selah. I am now so much more.” He leaned down and hauled her up by the arm. Selah heard herself sobbing, and felt a spike of consequent anger. Could see how that pleased him, lit a light deep in the depths of his black eyes, so that she bit down on sobs and summoning all that was left to her, cracked her forehead as hard as she could against his nose.
She saw a blinding white light, like soundless, formless oblivion, and then blinked and stared at Charles. She had trouble focusing on him, but she saw that he was cupping a hand over his nose, eyes mere slits of rage. Karl was laughing, somewhere behind them, and Selah wanted to do more to hurt this monster, but she felt like a marionette whose strings had all been tangled. She couldn’t make her arms or legs move as she wanted to. She blinked tears away, fought for self-control, but by then, it was too late.
Charles leaned in and bit into her neck savagely. No delicate puncturing, this; he tore into her neck in the same manner a dog might tear into a steak. She screamed, going weak with shock, and then her blood was pumping up, out. She could feel it escaping in great gouts through her neck, could feel his lips buried deep in the wound, his tongue probing into her flesh. It was the most terrible blend of pleasure and horror she’d ever felt, a shocking collapse into ecstasy and excruciating pain. It was too much, too much for her to handle, and with a final cry, she felt the
darkness rise up like a flood and claim her mind, her soul, and bring her swirling down into its depths to drown.
The beat of her heart. Slow and steady. Calling her, summoning her back from oblivion. She didn’t want to return. Fought the sound, its insistent nature. Tried to dive deeper, but failed. It beat with undeniable power, pulling her back. Numbness began to fall from her limbs, recede from her mind. Vigor stole in, returned, and she felt the void about her once more in all its incredible vastness. She opened her eyes and saw stars, saw the glory that was the firmament in all its infinite constellations. She couldn’t help but feel wonder at its beauty, at its sheer complexity. Her heartbeat sped up, ever faster, ever more powerful, slurring its beat as its tempo increased beyond the possible, became a great vibration that seemed to shake the vaults of the heavens themselves.
Selah turned. Below her, as before, the ocean. From horizon to horizon, the black waters surged, waves tipped by whitecaps as if lashed by a thousand furious winds. She hovered high above, and with something like regret, resignation, turned and lowered her head and fell, plummeting down and away from the light toward those dark waters, gaining speed with each passing moment till she was but an arrow sent down from the stars.
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