Voice of the Undead

by Jason Henderson

“Well . . . ,” Alex said.

  “Because I know what I would choose,” she said intensely. “I would choose that you come home. It’s not safe. It’s too early to give up your life.”

  “There’s no reason to think he’s gonna give up his life.” Dad scowled. “They have all the equipment, and a lot more backup than he would in Wyoming.”

  “And they wouldn’t come looking for him if he hadn’t gotten involved in your little fraternity.”

  “They’re not wearing togas and playing beer pong, Mom,” said Alex.

  “How do you know about beer pong? Do they allow drinking at—”

  Alex waved his hands. “They don’t even allow video games at this school. And you know what else? The Polidorium doesn’t let me use a gun. Everyone’s looking out for me, okay?”

  “I’m sort of surprised at that about the guns,” Dad said.

  “Right, because of the Revolutionary War,” Alex retorted. “You know, I saw a picture of you in, like, Prague, with a gun and rubble and stuff.”

  “That’s a pretty good description of my time there.”

  Alex found himself laughing. He looked at them both. What he said next had to be good. It had to sound like he had his wits about him or the discussion would be over. He took a moment, looking down the mental chessboard again, and then laid it out. “When I found out there was such a thing as the Polidorium, it was like a light went on. It was like this was what I had been looking for. I wanted in. The truth is, I didn’t tell you guys because I was afraid of what this talk here could become. I didn’t want you to swoop in and take me home.”

  “And now?” Mom asked.

  “Look, I know I’m fourteen and it’s not really normal for me to say there’s a job to do, but it’s very close to that. This is what my life is supposed to be. I can feel that. I have friends here, and I’m learning here.”

  Dad nodded. “Alex, I’m not a part of the Polidorium life anymore. We have five children, and two of them are still small. If this is what you want to do for now, we won’t force you to come home. But I have to urge you: Use everything. Pay very close attention. Listen to your instincts. We’ll be staying in Geneva tonight, and then we’re out of here before dawn—we have to be in London for a trust meeting tomorrow afternoon. But look, the instant you want to give up or it gets too hot, call us.”

  “What your father is saying,” Mom said, “is that your family has been a part of a war for a long time, but you don’t have to be a part of it.”

  Dad chewed his lip. “No, no. No, he probably does. But it’s up to him whether it’s time.”

  “Now,” said Mom. “We all have to go to the library, because apparently there’s something called the Pumpkin Show.”

  Chapter 16

  It was time for the second Pumpkin Show, but a pall lay over this one as parents filed into the library—guests impatiently waiting for their real purpose, a conference with the administration that would follow the performance.

  Alex left his parents to mingle and found Minhi, Vienna, and Paul standing around some empty seats near the front. Minhi was thumbing through the program. “Sid’s last,” she said excitedly. That was a prime spot. There were only ten students competing tonight: some songs, some monologues, a dancer, and Sid’s story. It was a new one; they had no idea what about. The yodeler hadn’t made it, but Alex noticed her chatting with Sid near the big chair. Well, go, Sid.

  Alex looked at Vienna. “Are you okay?” He meant about Steven.

  She bit her lip. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

  The various parents looked somewhat agitated, not surprising considering most of them were here to decide whether to let their sons stay. Inviting them all to a school event probably had made sense in a decorum sort of way, but there was palpable anxiety in the air.

  Sangster was looking through some papers at a table next to the bookshelves and Alex caught his eye. “You talk to any of the parents?” Alex asked, coming over.

  “A few. They’re not sure we’re doing this transition right.”

  “It’s been less than a week,” Alex said. “What do they want?”

  “Alex, it’s impossible to overstate how traumatizing an event like that can be for people. Lots of parents want to pull their kids out,” Sangster said. “How about yours?”

  Alex shrugged. “They’re letting me stay. Look, we have to talk about what happened at the hospital. There’s a dead doctor. And the Scholomance was there; Elle was with them.” Suddenly Alex had a thought and looked around. “Are the Merrills’ parents here?”

  Sangster shook his head. He seemed to consider something for a moment, then pulled out a sheet of paper. “Look at this,” Sangster said as he handed it to Alex.

  “Are you listening to me? We had another kidnapping,” Alex said urgently.

  “Just—read it,” the teacher said. “And then give it back to me, because that’s confidential.”

  Alex took the sheet of paper and studied it for a moment. It was an official form from the Glenarvon Academy office. He saw the subject line, read on, then looked up. The subject line was essentially the entire document. Alex looked around, but nobody seemed to be paying attention to them. “This is a withdrawal notice,” Alex said, confused.

  “For Bill and Steven Merrill,” Sangster said quietly. “That’s on their parents’ orders. School got a message saying that Steven and Bill were going to be picked up at the hospital and not to expect them to return.”

  “This has to be a fake,” Alex said, handing it back. “I mean, the form is real, but I just saw a bunch of vampires take them away.”

  “I understand,” Sangster said. “But Otranto received the phone call himself.”

  “Anyone can make a phone call,” Alex insisted. “I could do that.”

  “Alex,” said Sangster, “did they try to get away, the Merrills? Did they ask for your help?”

  “No, they . . .”—Alex had to sigh—“Bill was in charge. He wanted us gone.”

  “Think about it,” said the teacher. “Soon they’ll be just two of perhaps scores of students taken out over the next hour, if I had to guess. The Merrills are gone, and if what you tell me is correct, they made a deal we can’t stop.”

  “You think the Merrills’ parents deliberately handed them over to the Scholomance?” Alex looked around again, keeping his voice down. “I thought that organization was a secret.”

  “The parents in these schools are some of the most connected people in the world, in politics, business, and everything else,” said Sangster. “The Merrills are part of a very old family in New York. Shuttling away children is not unheard of.”

  “It’s the Scholomance. Why would they do that? What kind of parents would do such a thing?”

  “Maybe they thought it was their last hope for Steven,” said Sangster. “I don’t know. But right now we have to stay on task. What about your parents?”

  “Like I said, they’re cool,” Alex said, looking back at the two of them, chatting with some other parents. Dad glanced at him briefly. Dad the retired spy. Mom the—the witch.

  There was a buzz of activity in the library as Mr. Otranto entered in his usual elegant topcoat, bearing a briefcase. He headed for the center of the room and took his place.

  “Oh,” Sangster said. “I called the hospital. The dead doctor you mentioned? There’s no record of him either. And this time it’s not us doing the covering up.”

  Alex stared. “Jeez.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming,” said Mr. Otranto. “I know we have a lot of visitors. I myself am a visitor, so it weighs heavily on me. What I hope we accomplish tonight is a beginning of a shared destiny, if you will. But first I know that you will all enjoy seeing what these young men and women have been up to. Ms. Daughtry?”

  For the second night in a row, Daughtry kicked off the evening as Alex went to take a seat with Paul, Minhi, and Vienna. Paul had an empty seat next to him, and there was also an empty seat between Minhi and
Vienna. For a moment Alex froze, completely thrown by this choice. Computer, run diagnostic. He sat between the girls.

  Behind him he heard some students studying the program and whispering, “A new one, a new one.” He realized they were talking about Sid’s story. After one night, he had fans.

  Sid’s story tonight was called “The Iron Veil,” and it was a creepy little tale of unrequited love and an unpleasant discovery, in a strange, dreamy world of castles and knights. It came across more like a poem than had his previous work: more repeating phrases and rhythms within rhythms. When it finally wound its way to a climax of horror, Alex became aware that he had been drawn to the edge of his seat—the literal edge of his seat!—but that was nothing compared to the effect on the other students, especially some of the girls. They were as enrapt as before, with the same glassy-eyed, forward-leaning expression. That was some mojo Sid was working, especially, Alex noted with some astonishment, with the dozen or so senior girls in the room.

  Alex threw Paul a smile that suggested they should all give up right now and start taking advice from Sid from then on.

  After the readings were over, Ms. Daughtry made a few announcements about the next and final round coming in a few days. And then she shooed them all away for the parents’ conference.

  Alex wasn’t there for that, but when his parents took their leave later, to go to their hotel in Geneva, he learned that it had been the civil bloodbath that Sangster predicted, since it appeared that returning to Glenarvon’s campus was not going to be as fast as most parents had hoped. By the next morning Glenarvon Academy was seventy-five students lighter, bringing them down to one hundred, and the Merrills were just another ripple in the wave.

  Chapter 17

  It was one in the morning in the Kingdom of Cots, and Alex awoke suddenly to the sound of crashing glass in the distance. His eyes shot open and he was awake. For a moment he was confused about where he was, forgetting about the shrouds that hung around each bed on the riggings that had been put up, hospital style, throughout the gym.

  Alex blinked, reaching for his new glasses underneath the cot and putting them on, and sat up.

  The room was full of the sounds of snoring and slow, steady breath. He reached out to the sheet and pulled it aside to see Sid in the next bed, fast asleep.

  Then he heard another sound, outside, beyond the back door of the gym. The scrape of metal, like an old window closing.

  He slipped on his shoes and grabbed his jacket off the rack, putting it on over his pajamas.

  Alex tiptoed into the corridor of white sheets that ran the length of the gym, looking up and down the line. No static in his head. But now he heard a door closing somewhere. He reached back into his sheeted cubicle and grabbed his go package just in case.

  He began to step quickly to the back of the gym until he reached the metal door at the rear. He opened it and peered out into the night.

  Across the lawn, under the moonlight, there were no lights on in the main house of LaLaurie. Off to the right was a gate, and beyond it the woods. He let the door shut behind him and pulled the jacket closer, wishing he had put on jeans over his flannel pajama bottoms.

  In the darkness a shimmer of cloth gleamed, satin, legs moving steadily and slowly, next to the gate. Not just one. As his eyes adjusted, Alex became aware that he could see three different pairs of legs crossing the small drive beyond the gate, going into the woods.

  A window scraped open at the house. Alex stuck to the wall and saw a girl in pajamas, climbing through an open window, rolling and dropping silently. He recognized her—she was tall with chestnut hair and Asian features. He’d seen her at the library. She began to walk, steadily and without a glance in any direction. Alex realized with shock that she was barefoot. He could see his own breath; she must be freezing.

  Not far from her window he saw several more standing open. One of them was broken, and there was a robe caught on it. What the hell?

  He heard footsteps from around the gym, off to his right, and shrank back into the shadows. More girls, two of them, one about sixteen, the other about eighteen, both brunettes. Both barefoot, too. They walked steadily toward the gate, silently, moving through it. They came within fifty yards of him along the way and never cast him a glance.

  For a moment Alex thought of running back to grab Paul and Sid, but the Asian girl and the two brunettes were still going, and he was about to lose them.

  Alex ran across the lawn, looking back to see if there were any more coming. Not a soul. Hurry. He headed across the drive and into the woods, and was lost for a moment, perceiving no actual path. He was about to get on the ground to see if he could find footprints in the dark when he caught sight of another pair of legs in the distance, satin pajamas glimmering in the moonlight through the trees.

  He made a beeline for the pajamas. He started to see more pajama’d legs, a procession up ahead. Alex headed off to the right, moving faster, until he was parallel to them. He stepped on a rotten branch. It snapped loudly, but not one of them noticed.

  Now Alex saw them more clearly. There had to be a dozen or so young women, all walking neatly side by side. They seemed unconscious—he caught sight of the two brunettes he had seen earlier and they looked neither at each other nor at the girls ahead. Their eyes shimmered, unseeing, as they passed like ghosts between the trees.

  Then he gasped when he saw Minhi. She was halfway up the line, and walking barefoot, wearing racing green pajamas. Her sleeve was torn where she must have had trouble getting out her window. He could see a rough scrape, visible on her exposed shoulder.

  “Minhi!” he whispered. He dared to get closer to them, walking quickly, keeping trees between them. “Minhi!”

  She didn’t respond. He stopped for a second, hugging a tree and looking back at the procession. He stepped out, now right next to the girls as he let Minhi move on ahead. He walked for a moment alongside a pair of girls he vaguely recognized from his literature class. He waved his hand. No one glanced at him. Alex turned and stumbled up next to Minhi again. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Minhi was walking, her arms swinging slowly, a perfect automaton stride. She didn’t look his way. He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Hey!”

  Nothing. All right, that’s enough. Alex stepped in front of her this time, grabbing her left shoulder.

  Minhi struck his forearm with her right. Then Alex felt the flat of her left hand smack hard against his jaw and the side of his head. No sooner had he lost his grip on her when Minhi’s right arm swung back, smacking him again and sending him reeling against a tree. This little demonstration of Hung Gar kung fu completed, she continued on her way. He stuck to the tree and stared. Minhi hadn’t looked at him once.

  Alex considered retrieving something from the backpack, maybe a flash-bang, of which he had two. They did no real damage but were loud and flashy, and he could set off one and maybe break them out of their trance. But if that worked, he might not learn just what this was about.

  Alex changed tactics. He started walking alongside the procession again, passing it quickly on the right. He moved steadily until he drew near the front.

  They continued into the woods, barefoot, feet squishy in the soft earth, gaining scratches as they occasionally stepped on twigs. Approximately fifteen minutes, about a mile.

  Then Alex saw light—several lights, in fact, torches glowing yellow through the trees. He hunkered behind a tree, staring, as the procession passed him again. They were pouring into a clearing in the woods.

  Alex crept forward slowly now because they were fanning out and he couldn’t see past them. He heard someone clear her throat, and he realized that all along the way he had not heard that sound. The sleeping didn’t do that.

  Alex reached the clearing and circled around it, trying to find the edge of the group. He heard someone yell. It was a stifled scream, like someone shouting through a gag. He started moving faster until he finally reached the edge and saw what the procession
was gathered around.

  There was a chair in the grass, with a man of about fifty sitting in it—no, not just sitting: tied, bound, and gagged. The man was trying to get away, but the chair was reinforced at the back and it barely rocked as he fought against the binds. He was wearing slacks and a light jacket. His eyes swiveled in terror.

  Next to him was a table, and Alex saw the glint of steel—no less than ten knives laid out in a row.

  Behind the chair was another table, with what looked like a pair of speakers and a small device, something that might have been an iPod. There was a figure with her back turned to them, but the hiss of static in his head and the white robes she wore identified her instantly.

  Elle turned around and looked at the crowd.

  “I’m going to play something for you,” said Elle. “And then we’re going to have a demonstration.”

  Chapter 18

  Elle hadn’t seen him. Alex thought that she would normally be able to smell him, probably from memory, but he judged that the number of mortal humans around must have been overwhelming. All that hot blood, and he was just one of many.

  The man in the chair was struggling, trying to break free. Elle said, “Shh.”

  Alex needed to get in there and set the guy free. Right away. But what was his opening? Elle stepped back to the device that looked like an iPod and pressed its button. At once Alex heard a voice filling the clearing, liquid and golden.

  “Good evening,” the voice said. “I am very pleased to see you all. You are going to do something that will set you free from all the forces that hold you down. Something you want to do—something I reveal that comes from within you.”

  Alex knew that voice. It was the sound of Ultravox.

  But the voice was not aimed at him this time—it held no purchase on his mind as it had on the train. The voice was working on the rest of its audience, though. Alex was amazed that Ultravox could aim his message so directly; it seemed that he was specifically targeting human girls. He wondered if Ultravox could tune it by age as well, and where the hypnotic effect came in—it wasn’t in the mere words, surely, because Alex was hearing the same words. He had a suspicion that Ultravox’s power was more complex than that—a mixture of words and sound and possibly even some kind of psychic “hook.”