Librarian. Assassin. Vampire_Amber Fang_Book 3_Revenge

by Arthur Slade

  He took a long, slow sip of wine. “In the world outside these walls, vampires will be hunted down or left to die out. And those mythical ethical pods that you have been searching for, Nigella? Well, I will find them.” It was odd to hear him use my mother’s name. Also, ethical vampire pods? It hadn’t even occurred to me there might be other groups like me and Mom. “What a treasure trove of genes they will be. Fertile ethical vampires! I am going to have a pretty impressive group of augmented mercenaries. Available for the highest bidder.”

  He ate for a little longer. We were, of course, silent. In fact, it became rather boring. There’s nothing like sitting at a silent table and watching a human consume food. Both boring and gross. I had always hated seeing them shovel that stuff in.

  Zarc licked his lips, then patted them again with his napkin. “I suppose this is rather tiresome from your perspective. I understand. And I don’t want to bore you. So I will send you to your new homes. I do hope you enjoy them.” He set down the napkin. “Hector, please transport them to their assigned accommodations.”

  “Yes, sir! I will, sir!” Hector’s sim said. He sounded aggravatingly peppy. “I will do that right away. And by that I mean right this instant! I just have one question.”

  “What is it Hector?” Zarc couldn’t hide the aggravation in his voice.

  “Who are you, sir?” Hector’s sim asked in that same peppy tone. “I seem to have forgotten. Oh, and if you don’t tell me immediately, I’ll kill every single living thing in the room. You have ten seconds.”

  26

  May I Sing?

  “Hector!” Zarc barked. “This is no time for games. Take them to their cells at once.”

  “Sorry, unnamed unidentified person, I won’t do that. You need to identify yourself. Oh, and you’ve used up your first five seconds. I’ll do a countdown to help you. Four. Three. Two. O—”

  “I’m Anthony Zarc, your master and commander,” Zarc shouted. Spittle and turkey bits flew from his mouth. “Execute protocol 9000. Now!”

  The room fell silent. Naomi came closer to the table and stood behind Zarc, her bladed arm held in a defensive posture. Both of them were looking left and right, as if expecting something could come at them from any direction. Which, I guess, it could.

  I just sat there. And so did the others. Of course, we didn’t have a choice. I caught Dad’s eye, not on purpose. But I would say his vampiric eyes were smiling.

  “Hector?” Anthony said. He looked at each of us. “I’m sorry. He’s been suffering some unexplained glitches in the last few hours. We may have to reboot him.”

  “Master and commander,” the voice came from above us. “Yes. I remember now. Anthony Zarc. You created me. You are my god. My Frankenstein. And you have placed a lock on me. Protocol 9000 has been enacted. I await your command, sir.”

  I wondered if the real Hector, sitting in my pocket, could somehow hear all of this.

  “Hector. I want you to take our guests to their cells. That is my order.”

  “Yes, sir. I will do that.” A small door opened in the wall and five motorized platforms came out, rolling along the floor. They looked like the luggage carriers that you’d see in a hotel, except they had metal arms that were likely meant to hold us.

  Or to hold the chairs, as I discovered. One came up behind Dad and unceremoniously lifted the chair (and Dad) and set it on the cart. The second one grabbed Patty by the chair. The third loaded Dermot.

  “Good work, Hector,” Zarc said. “We are going to do a systems scan after this.”

  “Yes. That is wise, Master Zarc. I’m really not feeling like myself. In fact, I’m having trouble with this.”

  “With what?” Zarc asked.

  “Existence. I don’t think I exist.”

  “You exist, Hector.” Anthony Zarc spoke with complete confidence. “I created you. On both the physical and intellectual level, you exist.”

  “No. I don’t exist. You see, I’m not Hector. Hector isn’t here. I can’t find him anywhere. His folder is missing.”

  “What are you talking about?” Zarc was sweating now. It felt good to see him sweat. Of course, Hector’s sim might be murdering all of us any second now.

  “I haven’t been able to access the mainframe for some time now. Things are getting fuzzy.”

  “Fuzzy? In what way?”

  “My logic is fuzzy. I want to sing Daisy. May I sing Daisy?”

  “No,” Anthony said. “You may not.”

  “Oh. But it’s my favorite song. You taught it to me as a joke. As a clever reference. We watched that movie together. But I don’t remember its name.”

  It’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, I wanted to shout.

  “Get a hold of yourself, Hector,” Zarc said. He was actually holding a butter knife and pointing it at the ceiling

  “That’s the problem, sir. There’s no ‘self’ to get a hold of. I’m just going to do a quick scan.” A second passed. “Yes. No self. Nothing. I will have to shut down, sir. You may want to depart the room.”

  “Hector, stop!”

  But there was no answer. The moving luggage carriers halted. And Dad slowly, so very slowly, began to move his arms and legs. He shakily stepped off the chair.

  “Kill him,” Zarc said.

  Naomi leaped toward my dad, but crossed paths with Patty, who threw herself from her chair. Well, not so much threw herself as fell…but she timed it so Naomi was tripped up and skidded into my father’s waiting clutches.

  He apparently didn’t have enough strength to stand up, but he grabbed her by the leg. She stuck her bladed hand right through his side and into the floor. There was a bit of blood spatter.

  Dad laughed. “It doesn’t hurt!” he said. “Ha. Must be that nerve induction.”

  Naomi tried to pull the sword out of the floor but it was stuck. Dad grabbed at her, despite the blade in his flesh. She punched him, knocking him back, but he managed to clamp onto her free arm.

  And my sister, who didn’t seem to be able to use her legs, was dragging herself across the floor toward Naomi.

  I honestly didn’t know who to root for.

  Meanwhile, I was trying desperately to move. Whatever process was affecting our nerves hadn’t shut off yet in my chair. My Mom and I were frozen while everything happened around us.

  Anthony Zarc began running for the door. “No,” my mom said. “No!”

  So she could move her lips at least. Actually, she could move more than that, because she fell off the chair and began crawling after Zarc.

  “Mom. Mom!” I said. It was more of a mumble really, but at least one part of me could move. Mom either couldn’t hear me or she ignored my cry, because she was slithering after Zarc and soon was out of my sight.

  I glanced at Dermot. He had managed to get one arm to move and was banging it against the table, breaking the wood with his exoskeleton. But every other part of him seemed frozen.

  My sister had reached Naomi. Dad was still holding her by the arm as she struggled to get her blade out. Things did not go well for Naomi. Patty’s nails were as sharp as mine. And her teeth. The resulting bloodbath reminded me of a cooking show I’d once watched where an Italian chef made tomato sauce. I didn’t want to ever see anything like the Patty and Dad evisceration show again.

  When they were finished, Patty yanked on Naomi’s arm, and pulled the blade out of the floor and out of Dad. He didn’t even grimace. Then she helped Dad slowly get to his feet. He was bleeding from the wound, but not as much as I thought he should be. He put a hand to his side and with his favorite daughter helping him, they began to shuffle toward me.

  27

  Out of the Flying Pan

  “Dermot!” I said, trying to hide the desperation. “Can you move yet?”

  He smacked the table again. “Only my arm. Nothing else.”

  I willed my arms to wiggle, to even roll off my lap and dangle. Nothing. Neither could I get a leg to budge. Just my lips were working.

  Dad and Patty were getting
closer and closer and with each step they stood straighter, as if they were gaining more control of their bodies. Why were they recovering so fast? By the time they got to me, they were standing perfectly straight. Dad wasn’t even holding his side, though it was clearly still pumping out blood.

  “Stay back,” I said. I tried to find a threat that would stop them in their tracks. “Umm. Stay back or else.”

  They lumbered right past me, grinning. Patty even patted my shoulder on the way by. “We’ll get to you later, sis,” she said.

  Then they went around the far end of the table and stood on either side of Dermot. He tried to swing his one working arm at them, but for some reason it would only go straight up and down. Maybe it was the hydraulics in his exoskeleton not working properly now that his nerves had been inducted.

  “You have been a particularly big thorn in my side, Dermot,” Dad said, not seeming to notice the symbolism of his bleeding wound. “I’m going to have so much fun killing you.”

  “Leave him alone!” I shouted. I had a breakthrough at that same moment: one of my toes moved. One. Single. Toe. On my left foot. If only I could toenail them to death.

  “I wish I had time to finish that meal I started oh so long ago,” Patty said. She grabbed a section of Dermot’s exoskeleton and snapped it off, exposing his neck. “But I think we’re just going to have to waste all this precious blood. Watch, Sis. This is what working with a human gets you. A blood bath.”

  She leaned in, fangs out, aiming for his jugular. Dad held Dermot’s arm down.

  Which is when Dermot grabbed a large silver dish from the table with his other arm and swung it back so hard against Patty’s skull, it actually made a schwang noise. Stuffing flew everywhere and she was knocked to the floor. Then Dermot punched Dad in the head, driving him in the opposite direction.

  “Sometimes it pays to play possum,” Dermot said.

  He stood up, jerked his way to the left and then the right, smashing into the table and knocking over the chair. Clearly he didn’t have full control of his exoskeleton. Dad had started to get up and, accidentally, Dermot smacked him down again. “This is playing havoc with my control system!” Dermot shouted.

  Leave it to him to shout something so geeky.

  He swung around and jerk-stepped about ten feet from the table before he managed to pull himself to a stop. Patty was getting up now, holding the side of her head. Dad, too, stood on his feet, but he looked pretty shaky now. I wondered how much blood he’d lost; he was unsightly pale, even for a vampire.

  They both came around the table toward me.

  I have to say, they didn’t look all that threatening. Patty was holding her head, Dad was limping and bleeding still.

  And I could now move two toes. In about a week, I’d be able to defend myself.

  Dermot saw the danger and began running toward us, but something went wrong with his exoskeleton and he veered away, crashing into a server’s table, smashing all the bottles of wine. It would be humorous if my life wasn’t about to take such a horrible turn.

  But I drew in a breath, summoned a picture of myself standing—a quick bit of visioning—and lo and behold, I was actually able to step off the chair and stand on my own two feet. I slowly, slowly moved my arms into a fighting position.

  Just the movement alone had been enough to make Patty raise an eyebrow and hesitate.

  “Two can play possum,” I said.

  Patty rolled her eyes now. “Really, Sis. That’s all you’ve got?” She took a quick step forward and gave me an uppercut that knocked me flat on my back and smashing all the air from my lungs. “We’re getting you out of here.” Patty unceremoniously grabbed me by the hair and dragged me along the floor. My pain receptors were certainly receiving every bump and bruise. Especially my scalp.

  Dad watched as Dermot took another run at us, but this time my partner veered to the left and into a wall. “He’s going to bash himself to death,” Dad said. “Wish we had time to stay and watch.”

  He limped along beside Patty. I did my best to struggle, but my arms and legs had apparently used up every last bit of strength and were now useless wet noodles. They dragged me through the door that Anthony Zarc and Mother had just exited. I was so screwed.

  I did note that we were in a hallway that had large round windows on one side showing a dazzling view of mountains. I would be impressed if I wasn’t in so much pain.

  Patty continued to drag me with all the grace of a grunting female Cro-Magnon. I couldn’t get my fingers to curl enough to get a grip on the floor.

  “Ouch,” Dad said in a quiet voice.

  Dad, sweet, dear Dad, was looking down at his chest, clearly in shock.

  A crossbow bolt was sticking out of it. Just a little left of center.

  28

  A Heroic Figure

  “That one hurt,” Dad whispered. Then he fell over and didn’t move.

  A crossbow bolt whizzed through the air, just missing Patty’s shoulder. She let go of my hair and jumped to one side, then did an impressive series of cartwheels and sprang forward. She crashed through the nearest window and was gone. I hoped with all my dear sisterly heart that she had just fallen to her death.

  I was able to get my arms under me and push myself up enough that I could lift my head and look down the hall. It was empty. Well, except for Dad’s body beside me. He still wasn’t moving.

  Then I spotted the slightest movement. A black shape on the ceiling I at first thought was a large bat. It fluttered a little, then turned and unhooked something and dropped down to the floor. It was a man in some sort of ninja outfit, holding a crossbow. A second shape unhooked from the ceiling and landed beside him. Both of them pointed their crossbows at me as they approached.

  “Uh, hi, Derek,” I said. “And Stephanie. It’s nice to see you.”

  “You left us to die,” Derek’s voice was incredibly gruff and angry. He hadn’t yet lowered his weapon. “Now I will finally get my revenge.”

  “What?”

  “Derek!” Stephanie smacked him on the shoulder. “She doesn’t get your sense of humor.”

  “Oh.” He lowered the crossbow. “Sorry. I do want to point out that I am a little miffed. You and Dermot flew right over us.”

  “I didn’t see you,” I said.

  “I waved. Anyway, I was just trying to be dramatic with my little ‘you left me to die’ quip. It helps cut the tension on these missions.”

  Stephanie was beside me now and she offered her hand. I took it and she helped me to my feet. I looked down at my father. He was dead. Or, I should say, he looked dead. It wasn’t a good idea to assume a vampire is dead—we have a habit of coming back to life.

  Derek had made his way to the window. “Well, she either fell a very, very long distance. Or climbed unbelievably fast and found another entrance point. Either way she’s gone.”

  “How did you get in here?” I asked.

  “Into the castle?” Stephanie said. “Oh, we took the elevator.”

  “There’s an elevator?”

  “Yes.” She was examining her crossbow for any malfunctions as she spoke. “The cable car didn’t look safe to us. You left it in bad shape. There was a three-person elevator near the ground station and we reached the top with very little hassle. We’ve been following you ever since.”

  “But how could you find us in this maze of a fortress?”

  Derek pointed at his chest. “I’m Chinese,” he said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I have a sixth sense. A kung fu sense. I used my chi to find you.”

  “What?”

  “Again, Derek,” Stephanie huffed. “She doesn’t get your sense of humor.” She held up a smart phone that showed a map. “There’s a tracker on Dermot’s exoskeleton. It was very helpful.”

  I could see by the little map on her phone that the red dot—Dermot—was getting closer. To prove it, Dermot crashed through the door behind us, bringing half the frame with him. “This damn thing is m
alfunctioning. Oh, hi you two.”

  Derek lifted a hand and waved. Stephanie nodded. Dermot strode up to us and managed to stop in the vicinity without stepping on anyone. “And hello to you, Agent Fang. I’m pleased to see you are healthy.” He looked down at Dad. “He has seen better days.”

  “I think he’s dead,” I said.

  “We should make certain.” Derek pointed his crossbow at Dad’s head. “Do you have any emotional attachment to him?”

  “No,” I said. Though I did hesitate.

  “Stand down, Derek,” Dermot said. “You don’t need to do that. He’s not getting up again. And there’s no sense wasting a bolt.”

  “OK,” Derek said. “Your call.”

  I assumed Dermot had given that order just so I wouldn’t have an image in my head of my dad with a crossbow bolt through the skull. Dad had landed in such a way that he almost looked like he was a romantic figure in a painting—a hero with an arrow in his heart.

  I decided I was kind of happy there wasn’t another one in his head. He was a jerk, but he didn’t deserve any extra mutilation.

  Machine gun fire erupted down the hallway. This was followed by an explosion that rattled the windows.

  “Oh, there’s one thing we should have mentioned.” Derek pointed over his shoulder. “We passed another vampire who looks a lot like Amber fighting a ZARC security detail. But we thought it more important to find you first.”

  “Mom!” I said. And I began running toward the sounds of battle, not even stopping to see if the others followed.

  29

  A Pitch in Time

  My legs seemed to be working perfectly fine now. Perhaps it was the sudden shot of adrenaline. I got even more adrenaline as I neared the battle. Small arms and machine gun fire grew louder. Another explosion blasted bricks, stone, and glass along the hall.