by Gwynn White
Girard nodded, face grim. The Long Island safe house had seemed a good place to stash the loaner security team from Nebraska, especially considering where they had found the lab. Now, it seemed like a continent away. He turned to the only two people he could count on at the moment…and really, only one of them was a known quantity. Sure, Marcus had the experience of millennia, but Girard didn’t really know him.
It was a risk.
“We go,” he said.
It was almost as if the air became charged, a thunderstorm ready to unleash electricity in the air. Borona merely nodded, while Marcus grinned and wiped sugary film off his hands. Borona’s reaction was definitely the more comforting of the two.
While the trio worked out their possible actions…and how to get inside without raising an alarm…Borona kept a watch on the house with the glasses. It was during one of these checks as they were readying themselves for the trip down from the roof, that Borona’s huge hand snapped out to grab Girard’s arm.
“Boss, another person inside!” he hissed.
Though neither of them could see what Borona could with his glasses, both Girard and Marcus whipped around to look. “Big? Little? Who?” The questions were useless, but Girard couldn’t help asking them.
After fiddling with the various knobs and buttons on the glasses, Borona scanned the entire house, then handed them to Girard and said, “Take a look. I think the new person looks smaller, don’t you? Thalia?”
Marcus grunted and asked, “How did she get in? I mean, from where? We’ve been up here this whole time.”
Through the glasses, Girard quickly found the new person and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Even without detail, he knew it was Thalia. The way she moved was like no other person or vampire he’d ever seen. Though a mere blob of colors with vague shapes and outlines, the high steps and peculiarly sinuous method of her motions gave her away.
As he watched, the pacing person of before backed up against a wall…the colors of the thermal image brightening at the core and dimming at the edges as fear and anxiety worked inside the person. Thalia approached the figure, then lashed out. Girard nearly dropped the glasses, imagining Yadikira under such a blow, but no, Yadikira couldn’t have scooted away with such speed.
That meant one of the bodies on the floor had to be Yadikira.
The person against the wall slid down until the legs were splayed, then dropped to their side.
“She’s on the attack. Let’s go!” he whispered in a harsh voice, then started scrambling for the side of the roof.
“Then what’s the plan?” Marcus asked, grabbing his pack and moving so quickly that he blew past Girard and dropped to the balcony below.
Girard dropped with only a minor loss of balance and dignity. Borona came last, his bulk shaking the balcony so much that he had a passing thought it might break off the house entirely. That would be a quick way to ground level.
“Let’s go with the first one.”
“You mean go in the front door?” Marcus asked, aghast. “I thought you were joking.”
Girard looped a leg around the rope they’d hung over the balcony to the ground below, then slid over the railing. Before he dropped, he said, “She’ll hear us no matter what we do, so why not just get it over with? Of course, Borona is going around the back and our job is to keep her occupied.”
Marcus pushed Girard’s head so he’d go down the rope, then whispered after him. “You mean stay alive long enough for this big baby vampire to get inside!”
Girard didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
Once on the ground, Borona finished dividing up the experimental…and occasionally untested…gear cooked up in the Guardian compound. Capturing law-breaking vampires who didn’t want to be caught was a constant challenge and it needed innovation from the Guardians to keep up. It didn’t help that many vampires had done stints as Guardians at some point in their lives, which meant they knew most of the tricks.
So, while vampire culture might be stodgy and stiff as well as reluctant to change, this was one area that was never stuck in time. And new technology meant a burst of new equipment and techniques had been rolling out of the technical development areas.
Of course, not all of it wound up working, so there was that.
Borona removed a padded case from his enormous pack, then carefully opened it on the ground, holding his breath while he did so. After a moment, he let out the held breath and opened the case wide. Nestled into a dozen cutouts in the cushiony foam padding lay small round glass balls, each no bigger than a Christmas ornament. Inside those balls, Girard spied a tiny bit of metal near the plug as well as an air bubble that gave away the contents.
“Why is that water purple?” Marcus asked, leaning down.
“And why are they so pretty?” added Girard.
Borona plucked one from the snug depression and said, “Short version. These are meant to look like decorations or something other than what they are. These are only tranquilizer versions and we call them Osmo-bombs, which isn’t exactly right. We concentrated the marsh water by filtering it through a reverse-osmosis machine. That’s meant for purifying water, but with some adjustment, it leaves you with an intensely concentrated marsh water on the dirty side. We dyed it purple. And it is intense. We can’t even go in the room where we do this without gas masks, so you definitely don’t want to be nearby when one of these goes off.”
Marcus leaned away from the ball and asked, “Does it actually explode?”
“No, it bursts. The problem is that I’ve only got two remotes. These were experimental or else we would have figured out something better, so they’ll go off in batches of six. Bottom line, you want to put these places not too near your nose. You won’t come out of your body, but you’ll be out like a light. And they’re glass, so you could get cut.”
Girard’s mind was having a hard time staying with the conversation. All he could see was the figure he thought was Thalia and the way she pushed the other person down. They needed to get inside and they needed to do it soon.
Borona must have sensed his anxiety, because he pressed the glass ball toward him and said, “You need to know how to operate this stuff. I’m doing it as fast as I can.”
Slipping the ball into his pocket, Girard pulled some patience from deep within. Borona was right. “Okay, what else do you have?”
In the end, Borona had quite a lot. They each had masks impregnated with a peculiar mix of citrus scents that worked like smelling salts on vampires. There were even special earplugs that looked like hearing aids. They allowed regular voices and sounds in the lower registers to come through at a level that wouldn’t hurt sensitive vampire ears, but entirely blocked any sound above a certain frequency. These were paired with a wristband that emitted a ridiculously loud and very high-pitched sound.
Marcus worked his jaw and made a face. “This feels weird. And you sound funny.”
Borona hefted his pack and said, “You’ll get used to it. Also, only use that noise as a last resort. We got leak-through on the last test and knocked out our tester.
Girard’s feet were itching to move. It was time to go. “Right. Let’s move. Check in with Lila again and let her know what we’re doing. Maybe they’ll get here in time to save us if things go sideways.”
As they worked their way through the yard in the direction of Yadikira’s house, Marcus grunted and said, “What a way to inspire confidence.”
30
Girard and Marcus approached the front door as normally as possible. Borona was making his silent way toward the house from the back. The house was far too large for three people to make an assault on and vampire hearing made it impossible for them to creep through. Their only hope was to provide enough cover noise that Borona could do the creeping for them.
As his finger touched the doorbell, he heard Thalia thumping about in the house. Even over floors of marble and stone, her heels hit hard and her feet were slapping a pattern that spoke of distress and f
ear. The footsteps abruptly stopped at the sound of the chime, then the barest whisper of Yadikira’s voice leaked through to his ears.
“Don’t hurt him. He can help us. He can help you.”
So, she knew who was here and she was alive. Relief surged through him, that thready and frayed feeling that she might be gone snapping and taking the weight of a boulder away from his chest. Marcus tapped him on the shoulder and drew his eyebrows together in a question. Is that her? Girard only nodded in response.
He didn’t hear Thalia come to the door, but her voice suddenly boomed through it. “I won’t let you in, Guardian! Go away! I won’t sleep again! We will not be slaves! I heard you brought that slaver here!”
Slaves? What in the world did she mean? She’d just planned to kill off the human race and then tried to carry out that plan. How in the world did that relate to being a slave?
“Thalia, I think I understand what’s happening to you and I think I can help,” he said, ignoring the questions he had and trying to sound calm and in control.
Silence was his only response for an eternal few seconds, then she asked in a much softer, younger voice, “You know?”
Girard didn’t actually know, but he had a good guess. She wasn’t the only being inside that body, and if that was the case, then she was dealing with an unmanageable dichotomy inside her own mind. Was this the fate of all vampires who grew old enough? Was it a relic of her older type of vampire? These were questions the Council needed to know the answers to.
“Yes,” he said, going for simplicity.
The voice that answered him was not Thalia’s. It was Christina. “I’m afraid.”
“I know. Let us in.”
Like all vampire houses, the doors were deceptively sturdy, the windows booby-trapped, and the whole place one big trap waiting to be sprung. Being let in was the best way. What happened after that was up to Thalia.
The lock on the door snapped, the many bars that secured it banging back at once. He heard Thalia’s feet patter away, back in the direction of the bodies they saw through thermal imaging. It was the big room, the one with marble covering the walls and no windows. It was also a room that created echoes at every sound, which was good. They needed to keep it noisy until Borona crept into place. With a glance at Marcus to let him know to be ready, Girard cautiously opened the door.
There was no one in the foyer, the same one with the pretty little table near the door and the fading frescoes of some pastoral scene on the ceiling. It was a deceptively bright little room, the arches leading in three directions invitingly. There was no hint of the danger that lay within these walls.
“Thalia?” Girard called softly. “Is everyone alright?”
The only answer he got was her shuffling feet and it made the hair on his neck stand up.
Holding an arm out to let Marcus know to stay behind him, Girard moved toward the arch leading to that big marble-lined room. It seemed a lifetime ago that he’d entered this room for the first time and saw that strange animal nature Thalia possessed, first met Yadikira, and felt that pull. He peeked around the edge of the arch quickly, then pulled his head back.
The scene was terrible. Josette—or what was left of her—lay sprawled on the floor. Burn marks covered her chest and neck and she was turning into goo, all those beautifully graceful movements a thing of the past. She was dead and the partially charred body of her vampire self was visible in her opened mouth, the little arms draped limply across those once-perfect cheeks. Yadikira was lying some distance from her, but under her head was bundled cloth, like a make-shift pillow. Her eyes were open and bright upon the archway, that fraction of a second enough to tell Girard that she was awake and alive. Her eyes flicked to the side quickly, letting him know where Thalia was.
The third form on the floor was near the wall. No longer slumped against it, she had slid down and lay loose-limbed near it. A cloud of strawberry blonde hair spread around her and covered her face, but his nose told him she was human. Did Thalia bring a body for Yadikira? Some poor human kidnapped by a mad ancient? Of Thalia herself, there was no sign, but one side of the room wasn’t in his view.
“Thalia, what happened?” he asked, remaining out of sight behind the arch. “How can I help?”
He could sense her indecision even from where he stood. Could she believe him?
At last, she answered. “You will kill me for what I did.”
With the firmness of truth in his voice, Girard said, “No, we don’t kill. What happened?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her. She grabbed me and it just happened.” Again, the voice wasn’t Thalia’s, but rather the young voice of a girl way out of her depth.
“It’s going to be alright, Christina.” It was a risk, using her name like that, and Marcus grabbed his arm in warning.
When there was no further answer, Girard carefully walked around the archway and into the room. Marcus followed his lead and both kept their hands open and away from their bodies. Thalia was tucked into the corner of the vast room, her knees drawn up to her chest and her hands tightly wrapped around them. She was as tiny as she could make herself. Or was that Christina?
There was no help for Josette, no chance that the vampire part of her might still be saved by putting her in water. That much was clear from one look. Holding his breath and listening, Girard heard the human girl take a breath. Yadikira was watching him carefully, her fingers lifting from the floor to motion him away, but only a little, as if she had no strength for more. Her chin and lips were turning blue and the dark color of her fingertips told him that she was moments from death.
“I need to help Yadikira,” he said, looking once again at Thalia.
She lifted one hand, motioned to the other end of the room, and said, “I have a basin. She won’t take a body.”
True enough, at the other end of the large room was an ornate basin that must have been thousands of years old. Made of bronze with sea creatures that humans probably would have thought to be octopi encircling it, it was clearly a vampire basin, one specifically meant for the carrying of bodiless vampires.
If worse came to worse, Girard could grab that basin and force the vampire part of Yadikira into it when her body died. Surely, the vampire part of her would try to come out. Almost all of them did, an instinct to live like a gasp for breath.
Thalia took a deep breath, then froze, her whole body going rigid. Her head whipped up and she glared at Marcus, her eyes narrowing. “I will not be a slave! You brought him here again? You are a liar! I know this being and he is a slaver! I know the very scent of him!”
Girard was confused and it showed. “What are you talking about?” he asked, that sense of danger returning. He glanced at Marcus, but instead of the utter confusion he expected to see, he noted a furtive flash of guilt cross his features.
Marcus knew exactly what Thalia was talking about.
Thalia pushed herself up along the wall without even the slightest effort. Her hands came out to her sides and her gaze never wavered from Marcus. What made Girard almost turn and run was what she did with her hands. From her forearms to her fingertips, tentacles emerged. Unlike his own heat shedding tentacles, which needed the press of a fingernail to show themselves, hers slithered out at her command.
And they were all wrong.
Rather than diminutive whips with tiny arrowhead endings like in any other vampire, these were larger. Some had the pointed arrow tip ends, but others were rounded. Even as they emerged, that type grew bulbous, as if some material were filling them up like balloons. That initial notion was confirmed when one of them burst, dropping sizzling liquid at Thalia’s feet. She moved back her toes in an unconscious action, so he knew this wasn’t a new thing for her. And it explained a great deal about everything she had done from that initial school fire to this moment.
She took a few of those strangely graceful steps in Yadikira’s direction, her eyes shifting to look at Girard with a sly look. Yadikira was closest to Thalia, with the huma
n girl another twenty feet away, but Girard knew why Thalia was getting close to Yadikira. Leverage. She knew his concern, sensed his need to protect Yadikira.
“Come no closer, slaver,” she ordered. As if to demonstrate exactly what she might do if they did, she raised a hand so that it was inches from the marble-clad wall. Her tentacles shot toward the surface and thin smoke rose as the finely finished stone lost its sheen. A crack sounded as rivulets of acid dribbled down the surface, leaving discolored lines to show their path. When she stepped past the place she’d burned, Girard could see a web of cracks in the stone at the place her tentacles had touched.
Again that sly look crossed her features and she said, “I can set fire to the wood behind that stone and burn it all.” Now that she was close to Yadikira, she turned her palm downward in a silent threat. Come closer and I’ll fry her. Girard didn’t need the words to hear the threat.
There was only one thing to do and that was to find out what the hell she was talking about. He said, “I’m no slaver and I have zero idea what you’re talking about.” Looking at Marcus, he added, “But I can tell you know and you’re going to tell me right now.”
Before Marcus could do more than look guilty, Thalia hissed, “Yes, Emperor. Tell him about your wife. Tell him about your son. Tell him about your slave-catchers and how many of my children they stole away.”
31
When Marcus met Girard’s gaze, the cocky young man was gone. His eyes were pleading for understanding. “It wasn’t like that. I swear it.” He shifted to look at Thalia and he was earnest when he said, “Yes, my wife did that. She paid for it with her life. So did every single person who knew about it.”
Girard was confused. Clearly, Thalia was talking about the period when Marcus was called Aurelius given that she’d sneered the word, Emperor. But wife?
“Wait, your wife from Germania? The one that tried to kill you all the time?” he asked, trying to keep up.
Even Thalia wrinkled her brow at that one, but Marcus shook his head. “No, she means Faustina, my human wife at the time.”
