by Clark Hays
“Who was the girl?” asked Tucker.
He weighed his answer carefully. “My daughter.” He cleared his throat and tried to gather his emotions. “I did not know this until just before I killed her.”
“Would it have made any difference?” Lizzie asked.
Lazarus sighed before responding. “I’ve asked myself that again and again. I don’t believe it would have made a difference, not back then. I was willing to do anything to stop him. I was impulsive because my knowledge of his plans came so late. I had little time to consider the implications. In my unfortunate zeal, I decided my only option was to sacrifice her. It is a mistake I have lived with for a very long time. Now I have a chance to rectify that. It is important I make this work for you.”
“Not to be overly critical, but how could you have killed your own kin?” Dad asked.
“Historically, vampires do not recognize the bonds of family as you do. Our primary relationship is with the one who turned us. It was a tragic, thoughtless decision, but the bigger mistake in killing MaryAnne was that it meant I succumbed to Julius’ view of the vampire world. My beliefs, and those of my followers, require us to only consume evil. Destroying MaryAnne, I went against my own moral precepts and Julius, though he lost in his gambit, won in a more important, fundamental way. I will not allow that to happen this time.”
They were all silent for a minute. Tucker stood up and looked at Lazarus. “I can sort of see your point of view, and I appreciate all you’re doing for us, but don’t ever come between me and Lizzie. This whole world ain’t worth nothing to me, next to her. There won’t be any sacrifices. Not this time. Understood?”
Lazarus put down his cup and wiped the chocolate mustache from the corners of his mouth. “Yes. Perhaps it is time to be more direct. Lizzie, what is your decision about the power you possess?”
Without hesitating, she said, “If it’s real, if these horrible fairy tales are true, I’ll let it pass back into the cosmos unused.”
“You have the strength necessary to let it pass from you?” Lazarus asked. “The internal strength?”
“Yes.”
“Assuming the words of Revelations to be true and this power does move in your veins, you must remember we know nothing of what is about to occur,” Lazarus said. “It is new in our history. The manifestation of such power may be very painful. Especially unconsumed.”
Lizzie nodded wordlessly. “Very well. This makes our plan somewhat simpler. Now, we must only prevent Julius from having access to you for the duration.”
“I suggest we err on the side of caution and keep any vampire from having access to Lizzie during her time,” Tucker said.
“The only ones who can use this power are Elizabeth and vampires with the power to turn,” Lazarus said.
“I understand,” Tucker said, staring evenly at him.
“Tucker,” Lizzie snapped, “what are you saying?”
Lazarus waved his arm dismissively. “I like the fact someone is thinking only about your safety. I respect that. We will keep Lizzie isolated from anyone except those of your choosing for the next few days. My army will keep Julius at bay, if it comes to that.”
Tucker and Dad nodded simultaneously.
“I believe we can hold them off,” Lazarus said. “But know this, if things turn against us, we will abandon the fort and escape through the tunnel leading to the Indian ruins in the hills.”
“What happens if we hold him off until my period is over?” Lizzie asked.
“Julius is not a gracious loser,” Elita said. “He may lose his power to sense you, but his failure will enrage him and he won’t stop until he has razed this compound and wreaked revenge upon each of us in this room.”
“And you especially,” said Lazarus, looking at her. “Particularly if it occurs to him that you are the reason for his previous failure.”
All eyes turned to Elita and she glared at Lazarus. “That was supposed to be our little secret,” she hissed.
“There is no leisure left now for secrets, my dear. All cards must be on the table.” He faced Lizzie. “Elita told me of his plans last time. Once this is over, you will need training in order to survive in this world. I ask that you rely on Elita to help you understand your role.”
“My role?”
“You will not have the power to turn full-blooded Adamites, but you will still have the power to turn, just like Julius and me. For better or worse, my dear, you will assume an important role in the world of vampires.”
“Let’s take it one step at a time?” Lizzie said. “We’ll get through this battle and then we’ll see who I turn to for guidance. My inclination, Lazarus, is that I be under your tutelage.” Lazarus smiled while Lizzie struggled to find the words to continue speaking.
“I do need help,” she said quietly. “I still haven’t had my first kill.” She felt embarrassed, admitting it to Lazarus and Elita.
Surprisingly, Elita was the first to respond. “You needn’t worry. It will happen of its own accord. Much like losing your virginity as an Adamite.”
“Spoken like a true elder,” said Lazarus, smiling. “Now, shall we move into the dining room for a meal?”
“Yes, please,” said Sully, finally breaking his silence. “All this talk has left me starving.”
Lizzie took Lazarus by the arm, holding him back as the others moved to the dining room. “I’d like to know why you are doing this for me.”
He smiled. “I have lived an eternity, Elizabeth. And frankly, every century I exist, I become more and more puzzled by the nature of good and evil in this world. I once thought I would have the answers, all the wisdom of God at my disposal, if only I lived long enough. Much time has passed and the only thing I know for certain is how little I know. But I do know I loved your mother, and by extension, I love you. These feelings are the only ones I have experienced that I know to be wholly real, to exist outside of any philosophical speculation. They are not good, they are not evil, they are the simple essence of my soul. I will do anything in the service of that love.”
Tears streamed down Lizzie’s cheeks “Thank you,” she whispered, “I am grateful.”
“Come,” he said, wiping the tears away with his massive hand. “Let’s join the others.
FIFTY
Lost in a private world of fury and dream, Julius watched out the window as the lights of the Midwest slipped beneath the airplane.
That he missed Elita bothered him, but only mildly. What he missed most, he suspected, was merely a sounding board: a visual diversion, a habit much like the comfort of a fine cigar or snifter of cognac. He was certainly not experiencing desire for her. Desire was something only felt as part of a quest for power, not as foolish Adamites experienced it, through passion and love.
Even the word “love” felt strange and distasteful in his thoughts. He took comfort in his knowledge that Adamites were fundamentally impaired in terms of intelligence. They were like children. His dominion over them would relieve them of the pain and uncertainty of their pathetic lives. The thought of this power caused tremors in his body and he experienced something close to ecstasy as he lapsed into the thought, the fantasy, of the force that would course through his veins when he took Elizabeth’s blood. Suddenly, he felt faint, his breath came quickly and, with a start, he was reminded again of blacking out during her turning.
Julius shook his head fiercely, forcing away the images of her then, replacing them with images of her as she would be soon, legs spread wide, spilling her blood into his waiting mouth. He fiercely pinched the inside of his wrist, squeezing the fragile skin together until it tore. The pain brought him back. He snapped his fingers for the steward.
“A cognac, warmed. And as soon as I have finished, bring the girl from the back. I desire a bit of a struggle, so do not drug her or bind her. Let her find her way to me.”
“Yes, sir, as you wish.”
Like a spider, I shall bring the sweet thing into my web, he thought, although he realized the cha
llenge was mostly a façade. She was a prostitute, disposable to the Adamite society, and was expecting aberrant behavior. Certainly, even her jaded nature would eventually be surprised when, in the moment of her sexual ecstasy, he drained her blood.
The idea of this pleasure gave him only temporary respite, a conscious diversion, from the darker thoughts plaguing his mind.
The inexplicable blackout at the turning, and now this faintness, distressed him greatly. It would not interfere with his plans. The sweetness of victory, however, would be slightly lessened by what he saw in Lazarus’ eyes. Julius sighed deeply, feeling a tinge of something approaching sadness.
He had seen it on others, the look of weariness from living a life of such enormous proportions. When time has no meaning, meaning itself is slowly eroded from life. Those were the ones who walked, finally, into the sun, turning themselves to dust, leaving eternity behind for endless darkness and blissful dissolution in the Meta.
In the end, it was this weariness Julius was fighting. He wanted to create a purpose, a reason not to desire the sun. He felt twinges of it himself, but more importantly, he believed it was his duty as sovereign and descendant of Malthus to reenergize the world of vampires. With the power to turn all Adamites, a new chapter in the history of the vampire world would be possible.
Julius sighed deeply. With nothing to lose, Lazarus would be twice as dangerous.
He idly twirled Lizzie’s pendant between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the light to better study it. The metal felt heavier than it should, and hot, as if imbued with hidden life. There was motion behind him, and he let the pendant fall back into his shirt, coming to rest at the end of the chain like a just-extinguished ember.
A young woman walked down the aisle, curious, in awe of the wealth of her latest trick. Her last trick, though she didn’t know it yet. She was robust, with strong, tan thighs and full breasts spilling out of a tight top. She would do nicely for the evening, Julius thought. If only Elita was here, they could enjoy the kill together as they had so many in the past. Was she dead now? Ah, well, no matter. He smiled serenely at the girl, drawn into the rhythm of her breathing flesh, the beat of her heart. His mouth began to water.
FIFTY-ONE
Lizzie and Tucker lay tightly wound in each other’s arms. They had pushed the two single beds together to give them more space, but still only used part of one.
“Honey,” whispered Tucker, “I got a bad feeling about all this. There’s got to be something we can do, create a decoy and sneak out the back door. Something.”
“I think we should trust Lazarus,” she said, “but I think we have more important things to talk about.”
“Like what? What could be more important than …”
“I think you should leave.” Tucker started to speak in protest, but Lizzie held her hand over his mouth. “I mean it this time. It’s possible that I’ll survive this, since only a limited number of things can kill me and Julius wants me alive, at least for a little while. Neither of those is true for you.”
“I ain’t leaving,” Tucker said. “End of discussion.”
She sighed and squeezed his hand. “I didn’t really expect anything else. But what about your dad? Is this really the way that you want him to die?”
“No, but I’m guessing I couldn’t talk him into leaving either. He’s pretty fond of you.”
“All right, a compromise. If anything happens, you and your dad stay with me. Julius can’t afford to destroy me outright, so there’s some meager protection there. And you can protect me from attack, should the pain of the process overwhelm me. But promise me, Tucker, no heroics. I want you alive.”
Tucker kissed her. “Okay, no heroics. Truth is, I want to stay alive. I’d like to spend a few normal decades with you. As normal as life can be with a vampire.”
Lizzie sat up and held her arms open. The outline of her nude body was silhouetted against the backlight of the moon shining through the curtains. Tucker leaned up and kissed the cleft of her breasts as she stroked the top of his head. “Make love to me, Tucker. I want to feel you inside me before the sun rises. I want your body to be the last thing I feel before I die.”
Tucker pulled her down close to him and twined his fingers into hers as he entered her slowly. She gasped in pleasure and closed her eyes as they began rocking together in a timeless rhythm.
When Tucker awoke later, the new day was well hidden. The special glass in the windows sealed the rays of the sun out tightly, as dark as the inside of a coffin, he guessed. He reached for the lamp by the bed and, under its light, studied Lizzie’s pale form with a smile that was half sadness. Rex and Alexandra watched him as he dressed, then padded quietly down to the kitchen with him, where Dad was already sitting with a cup of coffee and an irritable scowl.
“Thought you was gonna waste the whole day.”
“I was,” Tucker said. “Wish I’d never woke up.”
A matronly cook set a plate of eggs, beans and corn tortillas in front of him, smiling briefly as he nodded in appreciation.
“Thanks, ma’am.”
She disappeared as silently as she came.
“Probably tonight, you know,” Tucker said.
Dad nodded and hoisted a black case onto the table. “I ran down to Hoback Junction while you were in New York City.” He flipped the case open. A new Casull with an eight-inch barrel lay nestled in protective foam. There were two cases of ammo beside it. “Thought this might come in handy.”
Tucker whistled and pulled the pistol out to admire it. “Damn. It’s beautiful.”
“It should be. Cost more than you’ll make all year. There’s a holster too. That, I made.” He pulled it out, a beautifully tooled leather affair with flowers cut into it. “I was kind of bored while you were gone.”
Tucker’s eyes shone. “I don’t know what to say.”
“How about thanks?”
“Thanks,” Tucker said. He filled the chamber with the gleaming cartridges, shoved more into the loops around the belt, and then stood up and cinched it around his lean waist. It was a perfect fit, hanging low on his hip. He pulled the gun free with a couple of quick draws and then snugged it home inside the holster.
“Hope you don’t have to use it,” Dad said.
“I will,” Tucker said. “Listen, things are about to get rough. No way Julius and his gang are going rest until they get what they want, or else we put them all down.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know,” Dad said.
“I don’t want nothing to happen to you.”
“I don’t want nothing to happen to you, either.”
Tucker nodded. “I know. I want you to promise me something. I want you to stay with Lizzie, no matter what. You’re the only person I can trust. She’s worth everything to me and I want you to guard over her like my life depends on it. Because it does.”
They were interrupted by a commotion outside, and a young, tanned guard burst in. “Your friend is here, Mr. Tucker.”
“All right,” Tucker said. “Reinforcements. Let’s go say ‘hey’ to the boys.”
As it turned out, the boys consisted only of Lenny, who was already inside the gate, a pair of massive duffel bags in the dust by his feet. He was eyeing the perimeter defense with unabashed awe.
“Lenny,” Tucker called as they ambled out onto the porch, “over here. Glad you could make it.”
“Where the hell is the rest of the LonePine militia?” Dad yelled.
“I’m it,” he said sheepishly. “You know how militias go. Bob was off to see his kids. Red had too much work to be done, and Frank, well, Frank just wasn’t too keen on fighting vampires.”
“That’s okay. We’ll be fine. At least you made it. I’m surprised June let you come.”
“She didn’t, uh, she said it’d be fine.”
“Goddamn it, Lenny,” Tucker said. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”
He nodded absently. “More or less. Are those miniguns? I’ve never see
n these new ones. Can I take a closer look?”
Tucker nodded and put in a chew. “Whyn’t you have one of the boys show you around and then let’s talk. We’re expecting company tonight.”
“I brought some party favors,” he said, grinning and nudging one of the duffels with the toe of his military-surplus combat boot.
After his tour, they all sat on the veranda sipping beers with the dogs curled up in the shade. Lenny spread his arsenal out on the planking. “That’s a .300 WinMag. Bull barrel, two-ounce set trigger and an 18 x 200-power floating scope. You can damn near read a license plate at over a mile. It fires a 300-grain bullet at close to thirty-five hundred feet per second. At a thousand yards, I’ve put three bullets so close together you could cover the holes with a silver dollar.”
They whistled appreciatively.
“I also brought some shotguns modified to shoot wooden ammo, including this little number.” He pulled a nasty-looking gun from a shoulder holster. It was a sawed-off double barrel, the stock cut away and wrapped in duct tape. “And I built something special.” He pointed at an immense, vaguely gunlike object.
“Looks like a spaceman gun. One of them lasers,” Dad said.
“This here is a precision stake shooter. It’s an A-10 I salvaged off a Warthog from Desert Storm. Normally shoots 30-millimeter projectiles really fast at enemy tanks. I convinced it to shoot stakes, 30-millimeter stakes. Accurate to three hundred yards.”
“How do you keep ’em from turning into toothpicks?” Dad asked.
“That’s the beauty of it. I encased the wood with machine-tooled metal jackets so thin and light that they shred away on impact. They’re snugged down into the original brass, reloaded with a lighter load. It’s beautiful. Just beautiful.”
