Immortal Make

by Sean Cunningham

  “Could Kate help us again?” Fiona asked.

  “Not unless you’ve got something that belongs to either Crispin or Zoe,” Jacob said.

  “Uh,” Rob said, “you know, I’ve got something of Zoe’s. Might not be what you’re looking for, though.”

  Crispin’s men dropped the void-steel sarcophagus with a clang that drove into Zoe’s eardrums like a sharp blow. She was glad she didn’t have Astra’s sense of hearing.

  “Fuck, guys,” Crispin said. “Try to be careful. You want to screw everything up at the last minute?”

  “This would be easier if we were already werewolves,” Garry said. He probably meant to say it under his breath.

  Crispin rounded on him. “Chicken and egg, Garry. Chicken and fucking egg.”

  Zoe hung back with the Russians. She propped herself against the desk where they set their laptops and watched Crispin cajole and threaten his men into pushing the sarcophagus the final stretch.

  Konstantin stood. “That’s close enough.”

  “Hold it there, guys,” Crispin said, though his groaning men had waited for his word. “The grumpy old man of our team says that’s close enough.”

  Pavel looked up at his grandfather and spoke in Russian. Konstantin opened a gnarled hand in a placating gesture.

  Yes, Zoe thought, ever since he touched the steel bones, Crispin has been tilting more and more off-balance.

  It wasn’t just excitement. Even now, with his triumph close to hand, Zoe expected Crispin to be his usual smooth self. She expected him, in fact, to make a rousing speech. Instead he bobbed around the hangar like a cork in choppy waters.

  “Take your places, everyone,” Crispin said, waving them towards the ghost machine and its ring of chairs. “It’s time to fly.”

  A memory popped into Zoe’s mind, as clear as though it had just happened. She saw Rob, standing in snow, barely able to keep from bouncing into the air.

  One of Astra’s memories. From the grave-site in Iceland.

  Crispin swooped around to stand at the far end of the open sarcophagus. He brought his hands up in a flamboyant gesture. “Zoe, will you take your place?”

  “Are you ready, Pavel?” Zoe asked.

  “It will take us another ten minutes to sync everyone,” Pavel replied. He and Konstantin moved among Crispin’s men, helping them attach the metal electrodes to their chakra points. Zoe struggled to keep a straight face when she realised that included wiring up their testicles.

  “Zoe?” Crispin said. Beads of sweat had formed on his brow.

  “We have a few minutes yet.”

  His face went red. “Take your place, Zoe!”

  The monster newly awakened inside her didn’t like that. It didn’t like that at all. Crispin’s shout brought her to the edge of her control before his voice even faded away.

  Everyone stopped. Those who were more familiar with werewolves, those who understood how easy it was for them to snap, went especially still. They waited to see if she would explode.

  She pushed away from the table. Her pace was slow as she padded around the ghost machine’s ring of chairs. Her gaze remained fixed on Crispin and she wasn’t aware of it, but she didn’t blink. Crispin’s face went from red to purple as he realised his mistake. But it only made him angrier.

  She didn’t know if she was going to kill him or not. The possibility was a thrill unlike anything she’d ever known.

  Zoe put her hands on the edge of the sarcophagus. The length of it lay between her and Crispin. She didn’t know if she could vault the whole thing with a single push of her legs, but she knew she was about to try.

  Maybe she would kill Crispin when she reached him. Maybe not.

  Crispin shifted one foot back, then halted. He gripped the sarcophagus too, mirroring her. His grin was a crack in a crumbling face.

  And then Zoe’s phone rang.

  Zoe blinked rapidly. Crispin threw back his head and laughed.

  When she saw the name glowing on her phone’s screen, her rage drained away, leaving a hollow pit in her stomach. She thumbed the screen and lifted it to her ear. “Rob?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. You all right, Zoe?”

  I’ve nearly killed everyone here for the second time in fifteen minutes. He would know what she meant – all too well – and she nearly said it for that reason. She realised then what she had ruined by betraying him. That understanding, that support, he’d wanted it too. They could have shared it.

  She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “Oh, getting by. You know how it is. You?”

  “Took the day off work,” he said. “Figured I was better off not in the office today, you know?”

  She remembered his howl as she kissed him and triggered his change. That hollow pit in her stomach deepened. “I’m discovering what you mean.”

  “We had some good times, right?”

  Crispin stared at her over the sarcophagus. Jealousy twisted him, made him grotesque.

  “What do you want, Rob? I’m in the middle of something.”

  “Yeah, about that. What are you doing there, Zoe? Didn’t you already get what you wanted? The others told me how you changed after – after I left.”

  She spun away from Crispin, from all of them. Her heart was racing. “I want to be safe, Rob. Seven years, Astra and I were trapped in a half-life. Can you imagine what that was like? Trying to make a separate life for myself, fighting for control of my own body. And always worrying that Astra was ahead of me, that she’d figured out a way to get rid of me before I got rid of her. The Covenant did that to us. They did it to me.”

  “I know, Zoe. But–”

  “I won’t let them do it again. I won’t be that – that vulnerable again. We’re going to turn this island into a fortress. It’ll be ours, Rob. We’ll be safe here.”

  “The Shadow Council has been keeping the Covenant out. You said it yourself.”

  “The Shadow Council was a joke. Everyone knew it. Your friend Julian proved it.”

  “You’re going to have to do a lot of killing to get that far.”

  The idea thrilled her. “That’s what we do, Rob, you and I.” If he could just see things the way they were, the way she did, maybe things weren’t so ruined between them. “You’ve tried so hard to live amongst human beings that you’ve forgotten that we’re better than them. Stronger. Faster.”

  “Not the way I see it, Zoe. You’re starting a bonfire tonight.”

  She heard footsteps approaching. Crispin froze when she swung around to face him. With the enhanced vision she’d had ever since that night when the Covenant disrupted her turning ritual, she saw a tiny ripple go through Crispin’s flesh. Touching the steel bones had restarted his own process of turning, or something like it. He seemed paler than usual, as though moonlight shone through him.

  “When the fire is done, we’ll be the only ones left standing,” Zoe said. “You’re on the wrong side, you must know that. I’ve got to go. But we’ll meet again, Rob. When we do, you’ll have to make a decision.”

  She hung up.

  “Pavel,” she said, “are we ready?”

  “Everyone is connected and synced,” he replied.

  With a smile, Zoe said, “Crispin, take your place.”

  When the fire is done, Julian thought. The last two times the fire had burned across the world, it had burned the world up.

  He, Rob, Alice, Fiona and Jessica were up in the loft. Jacob had remained downstairs. Fiona, Jessica and Rob were gathered around the coffee table in front of the couch.

  “Did you get it?” Fiona asked.

  Beaming, Jessica swung her laptop to face her. “Essex. A hangar in some old airfield. The leaseholder is a private company, nobody interesting.”

  “Find a good spot just outside where you can drop us in.” She turned to Rob and put her hand on his shoulder. “Thanks. That was a good idea.”

  “Yeah, they come to me sometimes.” He scooped up his phone and unplugged it from Jessica’s laptop.


  Alice pressed close to Julian’s side and stood on tiptoe. “Can he fight her?” she whispered.

  “If he loses himself to the monster, I suppose so,” Julian replied. He didn’t add what it would take from Rob to come back to himself and find he’d killed Zoe.

  Fiona rose to her feet. “Get ready, everyone. We leave from the back garden in ten minutes.”

  Julian squeezed Alice’s hand. “See you in ten.” He didn’t ask her if she was ready to fight. He knew she was in no better shape than he was. He also knew the question would insult her.

  “Wait, Julian,” Rob said. He slipped past Fiona. “I’ll come with you.”

  Julian nodded and started down the stairs, Rob right on his heels. At the front door to their own flat, Rob said, “Question for you.”

  Julian had the door keys in his hand. “Go ahead.”

  “If Alice went off the rails,” Rob said, “if she went completely bloodthirsty nuts, could you put her down? You would, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said and meant it.

  Rob only half heard him. He was agitated, moving his hands and arms in random, patternless motions. “Yeah, you’d do it. If that’s what it took, right? If she was going to kill a whole lot of people. That’s what you’d do.”

  I’m not going to let you be the one to kill her, Julian thought. The idea had popped into his head while they sat around Fiona’s table. If Zoe came at them the right way – if – then he had one trick up his sleeve that might deal with her.

  His hand brushed the place on his hip where his sword would hang. One trick. And if it didn’t work…

  “I think,” Julian said, opening the front door to their flat. “I think that if Alice went off the rails, as you say, then yes, I would feel obliged to hunt her down. But I might give her a head start.”

  Rob appeared to have made a decision. “Gonna go put something disposable on. See you out the back.” He clapped Julian on the back, forgetting his strength and nearly shoving Julian into the door-frame. Julian rolled his shoulder and winced as Rob bounded up the staircase.

  “Hope you’re not counting on him tonight, matey.” Jacob had come up behind them while they spoke. He’d stayed in Flat 2’s new room while they called Zoe, claiming he had a call of his own to make.

  Julian sighed inwardly. He’d been expecting and dreading this conversation. “I’ll watch his back, just as he’ll watch mine. I trust him.”

  Jacob shook his head. “Not all the way. You haven’t told him everything. You haven’t told any of them everything, have you?”

  Julian was aware that Jacob could probably sense it when he lied. He knew he was too tired to stand an even chance in a verbal sparring match. “I need to get ready.”

  “I know what it is,” Jacob said. With a gloved hand, he gripped the brick wall between the two front yards. “I know what secret you’re protecting. There’s only one thing it could be.”

  Julian hesitated in the doorway. He remembered Jacob staying silent in the hospital, letting Julian speak. Julian held his tongue, hoping Jacob would give himself away.

  “The thing I don’t understand is, why didn’t you do it?” Jacob asked. “Why didn’t you go all the way? You could have killed Mitch in a heartbeat four years ago. You could have beaten him with a word.”

  “Fiona seems to want to trust you,” Julian said. “That trust will go up in smoke if she thinks you’re here for some other reason than to help us.” He closed the door behind him, before Jacob could say anything else.

  Fiona was buttoning up her black coat in her bedroom when Alice appeared in the doorway.

  “Jessica has her automatons outside,” Alice said.

  “I heard.” It was impossible to miss the metallic noise the winch made. “Are you up for this? You haven’t fully recovered from facing Astra and Zoe.”

  Alice smiled so that her fangs showed. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Fiona hesitated, then plunged on. “Thank you for coming with us. I know you’re kind of stuck with us.”

  A frown wrinkled her brow. “You think I’m here because I have nowhere else to go? You are the companions I wish to be with, Fiona. This is the fight I choose. I’m here because I want to be. I’m always where I want to be.” Her smile had returned, fangs included. “I’ll see you outside.” She vanished, moving so fast that Fiona didn’t see her go.

  Fiona picked up the notepad Julian had given her and tucked it into a coat pocket. There wasn’t anything else do to. Her shadow and her notepad were her only weapons. She went downstairs.

  She wasn’t expecting Amelia to meet her near the front door.

  “You’re going out?” Amelia asked. She was twisting a dishcloth round and round in her hands.

  “Something we need to do,” Fiona replied.

  She hadn’t made time for the woman she wanted to call mother, she realised. The world of monsters and magic had come into her life, come into her home. It was still new. It was still frightening.

  “Jessica is going with you?”

  Fiona snorted. “Try to stop her.”

  Amelia’s smile was brief and wan. “Yes, that’s my little girl. You’ll watch out for her, won’t you? I know she doesn’t think so, but she’s only ten.”

  “Of course,” Fiona said. “She’s my little sister.”

  Amelia twisted the dishcloth around and around. “I don’t really understand what’s going on, but I know you’re trying to do the right thing. I’m very proud of you.”

  Tears prickled the corners of Fiona’s eyes. She threw her arms around Amelia. Amelia hugged her back just as hard.

  “I’ll bring Jessica back safe,” Fiona said as she pulled away.

  Tears stood in Amelia’s eyes too. “You bring yourself back too.”

  Chapter 30 – War

  The war began in Limehouse.

  Eight vampires rode on the roof of a c2c train service out of Fenchurch Street, eight black fluttering flags atop the white bullet of the train. Their claws were already extended, their teeth long and sharp. They clung without effort to the white metal, crouched forward, eager for their leader to give them the order to attack.

  Only one, Devon, was so young that he’d been turned in the twenty-first century – ruined after the dotcom bust at the turn of the millennium, his rescue from bankruptcy coming at a dark price from his financial backers. Of the rest, five were twentieth century vampires. The stories their elders told, about the centuries of bloody slaughter than had preceded the London shadow treaty, had filled them with envy. They exulted in the knowledge that they had, at last, been unleashed.

  The second eldest, and the second in command, had been turned in the middle of the eighteenth century when the vampires needed warriors to fight a group of warlocks known as the Principled Society. She had kept her given name of Charity because she thought it was funny. Their leader was the eldest, a vampire who went by the name Isaac and remembered the Napoleonic Wars. He retained an abiding loathing of the French.

  The train moved fast along an elevated track. Buildings slid by on either side, some residential blocks, other commercial. The Limehouse district was a blend of its slum ancestry and modern attempts to regenerate it.

  It was also werewolf territory. It had been for centuries.

  A modern apartment building came up on their right. Isaac raised his hand. His warriors prepared to spring. As the c2c train crossed a rail bridge they leapt. One after the other, they arced through the air, bounded lightly off a balcony rail and swung off a windowsill, around to the far side of the building.

  Isaac did not pause. He sprang again, to land on the rooftop of a smaller apartment building. He ran, keeping his pace slow enough for young Devon to keep up. He leapt again and his claws allowed him to cling to the side of the next building. He held on easily, his limbs splayed out like an insect’s.

  Isaac and his warriors positioned themselves around the three windows on the fifth floor. Charity began to whisper.

  Inside the
building, a mortal human named Niaz looked up from his phone. A voice danced at the edge of his hearing, tantalising, inviting. He got up from the couch, left his phone behind and followed the voice to the window.

  Nothing. Of course there was nothing. How could there be? He was on the fifth floor, all of which he legally owned, though in practice he was merely its steward. He was about to go back to the couch when he heard the voice again.

  Frowning, Niaz opened the window and leaned out.

  Isaac grabbed him by the shirt and flung him so hard he cleared half the length of the next building. Niaz hit the roof and tumbled to a stop in a shattered tangle.

  Isaac hissed. His warriors surged in through the windows.

  The floor contained three flats, all of them registered in Niaz’s name. With Niaz dead, all of them were now accessible to Isaac and his warriors. They swept through the rooms on soundless feet. All their senses stretched out. Only two werewolves were on station, both in the same flat, lounging in front of the TV watching an action movie.

  Isaac and his warriors gave the werewolves no time to change. He and Charity were armed with guns loaded with silver bullets. Before the werewolves could react, they pumped rounds into their chests.

  The werewolves roared in pain.

  But with the silver bullets in them, they couldn’t change.

  Isaac’s younger warriors fell on them with vicious glee. The werewolves screamed as the vampires ripped them with their teeth and tore them with their claws. Isaac and Charity held back. Though they too ached to kill their hated enemies, they were old enough to possess restraint. They had more to do yet.

  They found the girls in the third flat. Eight of them, the youngest seven, the oldest fifteen. The flat served as a waystation in the werewolf slave trade. The girls had been brought in from south Asia, to be held in Niaz’s flat until they were sold onwards. The girls stared in terror up at the two vampires.

  Isaac took a deep breath and tasted their fear.

  The vampires hadn’t known whether or not Niaz’s waystation would have any stock waiting for distribution. Their intent was to break the operation, nothing more.