Nightlord: Orb

by Garon Whited

  Maybe I should talk to Sparky again and see how sincere she is. Then again, maybe I should ignore her forever and pretend she doesn’t exist. Difficult, if I ever want to talk to my daughter or granddaughter again.

  Urgh. My eldest daughter. My body was busy while my consciousness was imprisoned. I’ve been trying not to think about that.

  “What are you trying to say?” Antonio asked, lips twisting toward a scowl. I caught a glimpse of extended fangs. Mary also saw; her fear increased slightly and her excitement skyrocketed.

  “What I’m saying is… I can’t do this. I’m saying I won’t.”

  Antonio sighed again. Sometimes you have to, dead or not.

  “Then what do you want to do?” he asked, exasperated. “Jump out?”

  “Is that my only alternative?” she asked.

  “Jump out and start running,” he clarified. “Forever.”

  “Halar? I know you have no reason to trust me, but—” Mary began. Antonio suddenly reached for her with both hands. He choked off her words, then drew one hand back as though to strike her. I grabbed the hand, twisted it around and down and up again into a hammerlock. Hard. I think a human might have lost the arm. His shoulder made an interesting sound and so did he.

  “Let go of her,” I told him, quietly. He did, but only to struggle with me, trying to twist out of the lock. I seized the back of his neck and jerked him up, denting the roof with his head. With a jerk and a twist, he wound up on the floor between the seats with me sitting on him.

  “Mary?” I asked. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

  “Don’t!” Antonio shouted, muffled by having his face shoved flat into the floor.

  “I think we should get out,” Mary said.

  “Here? Now?”

  “Yes.” She overrode the window control to lower it in the rain and gestured for me to go. I had a bad moment deciding whether or not to trust her on this. Still, from the conversation, things were not going to go well if I reached the vehicle’s destination. We were well outside the city proper, so no one should be around to witness the sudden bailout… and she did say “we.” The worst thing likely to happen was some ruined clothes, a startled cow, and an uncomfortable walk. Possibly an interesting apology and explanation, too. Why not? This could be interesting, indeed.

  “If this is a mistake,” I told Antonio, “I apologize. Please forgive me if I’m being misled.”

  “You’re doomed,” he said. “Doomed, I say! A thousand drinkers of blood will seek you out—”

  I punched the back of his neck, breaking it. Since he was a corpse, anyway, it would just take a while to regenerate. It shut him up, at least, since the discussion was obviously not going well.

  “Even I’m not that cliché,” I told him. His lip curled in a sneer, but without control of his diaphragm, he couldn’t speak, which suited me perfectly. Boring conversation, anyway. Now, if we could just avoid having company…

  I glanced at Mary. She nodded at me and led the way, leaping gracefully through the window. She reminded me of divers coming off the springboard at the pool. Very smooth, very neat. I, on the other hand, managed to get out through the window without catching on anything, which I regarded as an accomplishment.

  I tucked, rolled, and bounced like a beer can on the freeway, only bigger and with less clattering. It’s not really dangerous for an undead to do that—well, not counting traffic—but it still hurts. So, undead beer can—blood can?—skipping and flipping down the road and off onto the shoulder. At least I didn’t hit anything more material than long grass and a big shrub, much to the detriment of the shrub.

  When I finally came to rest, I lay there for a moment to take stock. Lots of abrasions, but those vanished almost as soon at they came off the road surface. No broken bones, which was slightly surprising. My bones are obviously stronger than I thought. Had I encountered a lamppost or road sign, on the other hand, I feel sure neither of us would have enjoyed it. Maybe I should get a sledgehammer and test my bone strength.

  Or maybe I’ll skip that. Yeah, I probably will. It’s one thing to get a knife in the hand or a bullet in the body in order to make a point, but charting the level of force to break multiple bones out of curiosity is a little beyond even my obsessive need to know. On the other hand, if I use a spell to block pain nerve impulses….

  I sat up, brushed myself off, climbed to my feet. I was already soaked from puddles and the rain; my clothes were rather torn and worn. Pity. I liked that jacket. Genuine, vat-grown suede. Ruined. Utterly ruined.

  I hiked back up the road to look for Mary, pausing to put the shrub back and tamp it into place. It wasn’t happy, but it ought to survive.

  Mary was in the ditch and clawing her way up onto the road shoulder. I helped her up. Her dress, once glamorous, would make a dry cleaner gasp in horror. Her left arm bent at an odd angle, presumably broken during her tumble. Along her track, I saw a sign with a nasty bend in the post, which explained the arm.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Mostly,” she admitted, wincing as she cradled her broken forearm. “We have to go. He may decide to come back.”

  “One second.” I took her arm gently, pulled suddenly, and set it in the proper alignment. “Healing goes faster when you make it easy,” I told her. “First aid, setting bones, even stitches will accelerate the process.”

  “I know that, but I don’t know how to set a bone.”

  “Really?”

  “I never needed to know.”

  “I’ll show you in more detail, sometime.”

  “Why did you break Tony’s neck?” she asked.

  “Why did we bail out?” I countered.

  “Because he was taking you to a place where the assembled tribes of the city could pass judgment on you. I think it wouldn’t have gone well.”

  “Execution for the overall good of the city and vampires in general?”

  “Probably. Almost certainly. Now, your turn,” she said. “Tony? Neck?”

  “Oh. Since it’s his car, you and I probably couldn’t override the autodrive—I presume that’s why you wanted to bail. But that wouldn’t stop Tony from stopping and turning around on manual. Or, for that matter, phoning ahead to people who might be willing to come out and help him.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “If he’s conscious when he arrives, they’ll probably come looking for us.”

  “I’m fairly sure he won’t be able to talk until his neck un-breaks.”

  “Ah. Then we probably have a bit of a head start. I like that.”

  “Think we can risk calling a cab?” I checked my skinphone; it was still working. It’s a small, tough little bracelet. They’re surprisingly sturdy.

  “I would, but I can’t find my bag.” Mary’s hands were spread at about waist level, a physical gesture to help her concentration while reaching out with her feathery tendril. I glanced back the way we’d come, but there was no sign of the bag. In the ditch, maybe.

  “Not a problem,” I decided. “I’ve got a cab coming even now.”

  The cab hummed to a halt and I handed her in. The computer turned up the heat and the blower because of the weather; it wasn’t a dryer, but it helped. Those Google programmers think of everything. Since it needed a destination, I told it to take us to the Gold Dome.

  “How’s the arm?” I asked.

  “Better. Give it another hour.” An idea struck her. She asked, “Did you break anything?” She sounded casual.

  “No.”

  “How long would it take to heal if you did?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe a minute? Less, if I help it along. It’s been a while since I last broke a bone. Since I last had one of my bones broken, I mean. But don’t worry about it; you’ll get there eventually.”

  “Assuming,” she muttered, darkly.

  “So, while we’re headed back into town, is there anything else I should know?”

  “Probably,” she admitted, wringing out her hair one-
handed and flipping it behind her. “I don’t know what to do now.”

  “Go home?” I suggested. “I’m the one they’re after.”

  “They’ll be displeased with me, too,” she pointed out. “They’ll assume I’m currying favor, hoping to be gifted with some of your blood and power. That’s what Tony meant about running forever.”

  “So it’s already started—I’m some ancient monster that’s come awake and the vampire civil war is inevitable?”

  “I… I don’t know. Maybe.”

  She actually sounded excited. She tried to hide it, but I think she… she wasn’t looking forward to it, exactly, but if it was coming, then she would do her best to enjoy it.

  That kind of attitude explains quite a bit about why she decided to throw caution to the wind and help me.

  “Gee, thanks. I feel much reassured.”

  “You want me to lie to you?” she asked. “Or was there something else I should have done in the car? Maybe I should have let you walk into a conclave of ten or a dozen vampires, all primed to have you killed out of hand?”

  I sighed. Yep, that does seem to help, at least a little. Sometimes.

  “You are right,” I admitted. “I was snappish and sarcastic and I should not be. You may have saved my life. Let it be noted I am officially grateful. I apologize.”

  “Oh,” she exclaimed, apparently remembering she was talking to an Ancient Evil from the Dawn of Time. “I didn’t mean to… that is, I should have… I’m sorry for my tone,” she finished.

  “Don’t worry about it. In the meantime, what do we do about this? I absolutely do not want to have a war—messy things, wars. I don’t even want to be famous, infamous, or well-known. Given a preference, I don’t want to throw away everything I’ve established and move, either. So, since you know the social and political situation better than I do—way better than I do—start thinking.”

  She gave me an irritated scowl, at first. Then her brows drew together as something caught her curiosity. She reached out with one finger and lightly touched my face, along the cheekbone, near my left ear. She rubbed the area lightly.

  “Your skin…”

  “Is my makeup coming off?” I asked. “It’s supposed to be waterproof.”

  “It looks rubbed off.”

  “It’s not supposed to do that, either. Road rash is outside the warrantee, I guess. Maybe it’s still on the skin I left on the concrete.” I checked my arms and legs. Yes, a couple of other patches were showing the dark, charcoal-grey color of my nighttime complexion. Most of it wasn’t so bad; the rips and rents concealed them. I fished in my pocket for my makeup compact. It was still there, but the cover was cracked. Good enough, though, for a patch job. I started applying it to the dark patches on my hands.

  “Could I trouble you,” I asked, “to help me with my face?”

  Wordlessly, she took the compact and touched up my left cheek and a bit of my right forehead, near the hairline.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Where are we going?”

  “Where would you like? I’d be happy to drop you off wherever.”

  “I can’t exactly go home,” she pointed out. “When he gets up, Tony will talk to Horace, and Horace knows where I live.”

  “You don’t have a spare lair?” I asked, surprised. “I thought you’d have at least a fake slot in a mausoleum, somewhere.”

  “I’ve never needed anything like that,” she lied. I could see the lie in the way her spirit glittered. If she wanted to keep her backup lair or lairs a secret from me, I wasn’t going to push it. Even asking was probably a faux pas on my part. Come to think of it, maybe I should have a backup lair, too.

  “If you expect to get much older, you’ll have to learn this stuff,” I suggested, pretending I believed her. “Much as I’ll have to learn how to navigate the political waters, it seems. I’ll make you a deal. You sort out our political problems, I’ll arrange for someplace to hide. Is that a deal?”

  “At the moment, it’s the best deal I can hope for,” she admitted. “Only, how do I know I can trust you?”

  “I don’t know. Does it matter that I trusted you?”

  “You raise a good point.” She rested her chin on her palm, tapping her lips with her fingertips. “All right. I agree.”

  Which threw on me a dilemma. Take her home? Or find a spot to hide out? I could get a hotel room, make sure housekeeping knew the place was off-limits for the day, and so on. We could get a new hotel every night, pay cash, and go on like that until she figured out a plan to get us out of this mess. It could work.

  But I wanted to go home; there were too many things going on. Besides, I didn’t feel comfortable letting her out of my sight. She could patch things up with Horace or Tony or whoever by telling them to come visit her hotel and ambush me in the parking lot. I didn’t think she would, but she could.

  Of course, she could do that at my house, too, only it would be more difficult. On the other hand, if a bunch of vampires showed up while I was at home, I’d have a couple of handy power centers for spells, as well as Firebrand and Bronze. That would be a considerably more favorable arrangement.

  I punched instructions for home.

  The rain stopped by the time we made it to my street. We went past it, stopped at the next corner, got out and walked back. It’s not that I don’t trust Google, but I don’t trust people with power not to abuse Google. There’s a difference.

  Once inside, Mary complimented me on now nice the place was. I didn’t see it. Maybe she likes the minimalist look in the living room and the piles of clutter elsewhere—I have to reorganize and get the rest of the cold-tolerant stuff out to the barn. Maybe she meant the house, itself, rather than the lack of décor.

  “What’s with the bags of laundry?” she asked. “Or shouldn’t I ask?”

  “Charity drive,” I explained. “A neighbor had a house fire, so the local kids decided to set up shop for donations. I’m letting them store their loot here.”

  “Nice. Isn’t it awkward, though? People coming into your house while you sleep?”

  “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” I evaded. “Do you want the closet in the master bedroom? Or would you prefer the basement?”

  “Let me look at them.”

  She eventually decided on the basement; the bedroom closet might leak some light. She didn’t like the diagrams drawn on the basement surfaces, though.

  “I don’t know what to make of these,” she admitted, gesturing. “Are you… um… non-traditionally religious?”

  “If I’m older than the current religions, wouldn’t that make them the non-traditional ones?” I joked.

  “Huh. You know, I don’t have a good response to that.”

  “It’s not religion. These are spells,” I told her. “I’m a wizard. Now stop looking panicky. They’re harmless. Don’t fool with them.”

  “What do they do?”

  “Arcane stuff.”

  “You could just say you don’t want to tell me,” she sniffled, sounding hurt.

  “Fine. They gather in and concentrate magical force for use in other spells.”

  “See? That’s all you had to say.” She regarded the diagrams without touching them. “Are they… doing that?”

  “Yes. You can feel them, if you want. Like I said, it’s harmless.”

  She spent a little while running a feathery tendril around and through my basement Ascension Sphere. Her expression was one of perplexity.

  “I feel something,” she agreed. “It’s odd. I don’t know how to describe it.”

  “Ever touched anything you knew was magical?”

  “Knew? No. Suspected, yes.”

  “Then it’s probably like seeing a new color for the first time. It was for me.”

  “That’s… not quite it, but yes. That’s close,” she agreed, still regarding the Sphere. “And weird.”

  “You get used to it,” I assured her. “Meanwhile, may I have your sizes? I’ll loan you som
e clothes, for now, but I’ll get someone to fetch back something specifically for you later today.”

  “You already have servants?” she asked, surprised. “Oh.”

  “Oh?”

  “You don’t know about that rule, and you’re powerful enough to work quickly…”

  “You know what? Screw the rules. We’re outside the rules. You can explain the whole Emily Post-Vampire Bite later, maybe. For now, tell me your sizes and I’ll get you some around-the-house stuff.” She did and I wrote them down. “Got it. Are you hungry? How often do you need to eat?”

  “I try to snack a little every night, rather than wait until I get hungry. Normally, I’d start getting peckish in a couple of days, but my arm, you know.” She held up her damaged arm. It looked perfect from the outside; inside, it was almost completely regenerated. “I could use some blood tonight. Tomorrow I’ll be famished.”

  “Got it. I’ll see what I can arrange.”

  “You’re going to feed me?”

  “You keep looking surprised,” I noted. “Has the idea of hospitality changed so much? Are you not my guest?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  “Please do. In the meantime, have you thought about how we’re going to get out of our socio-political troubles?”

  “Yes. No ideas, though.”

  “Fair enough. You keep thinking. I have some concrete panels to lay. Help yourself to the bathroom and the video. Let me know if you need anything and don’t open any door that’s locked. I’ll be out front.”

  I left her to clean up while I dug around in the charity collection for some spare jeans, a shirt, and some socks. A pretty lady can dress in a man’s casual wear and make it work; the belt was vital, though. Mary’s hips aren’t big enough to hold up jeans sized for Mark. I also didn’t have any real footwear that would even come close to fitting her, but socks are almost universal. I left the pile next to the bathroom door and went outside to finish my concrete projects.

  Most of the concrete was already poured in the root cellar, covering the dirt floor in a layer of pavement. It wouldn’t stop me from empowering the concealment spell; the energy would go right through it. It would drastically slow down anyone with a shovel, though. Someday, if I stayed, I would probably add something explosive and fragmentary to further deter intruders. For now, with the concrete nicely set, I laid the old wooden flooring down over it and added a handful or two of dirt, scuffing it into the cracks. You would never know the floor was anything but a layer of wood over dirt.