“You see that?” she shouted. “That’s exactly what you’re doing! You’re fighting your own shadow, not your real enemy!”
“Liar!” Fell shrieked as he threw himself forward, leaving her holding a handful of scalp. “You turned Anise against me! You destroyed my life!” He then turned and grabbed a nearby club-goer, lifted him over his head and hurled him at his opponent. Sonja easily ducked as the screaming man crashed into the mirror behind the nearby bar.
The bartender yelled something and disappeared behind the counter. Sonja vaulted the bar just as he resurfaced with a shotgun. She snatched the weapon from his hands before he had time to snap the breach closed. “Thanks, buddy,” she growled. The bartender turned and fled, jumping over the injured man who had collided with the mirror sprawled on the bar mats.
Sonja quickly spun around, leveling the shotgun at Fell as he mounted the bar. The young vampire froze at the sight of the double-aught pointed inches from his chest.
“Even a Noble like Morgan would have problems surviving a blast from this distance, much less a pantywaist like you,” she warned. “Whattaya think, pretty boy? Wanna chance it?”
Fell did not answer but instead dropped back, keeping the bar between.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Sonja said with a humorless laugh. She hopped onto the counter top as easily as a cat climbing a fence, so she could get a better look at the crowded club. “But before we take care of business, it’s time I cleared the field of interference!”
She spotted two Renfields standing near the exit, one African-American, the other Japanese. They were the ones responsible for crowding the bar and cloaking Fell’s presence so he could approach without her recognizing him. Fell was nowhere near self-aware enough to be able to attempt such psychic sleight-of-hand. It also explained why so few of the club-goers seemed to react to the brawl. The Renfields were creating a veil, blinding the humans in the crowd as to what was going on. It was obvious they were setting up a killing floor—but for whom?
She opened fire on the African-America sensitive, spraying his brains across some yuppies. The second shot missed the Japanese psychic and struck the investment banker from Pacific Heights who was standing next to him, sending skull fragments flying like shrapnel. The Renfield shrieked and clapped his hands over his eyes. The veil lifted and suddenly people were screaming and shouting and knocking over tables and trampling each other in a wild scramble for the exit.
The crowd’s panic made her giddy as a hit of nitrous. She had only a moment to enjoy the rush before Fell was on her, his face contorted into a mask of animal rage. While he might not be advanced enough in evolution to tap into the negative emotions swirling about them, he definitely seemed to have a contact high. He pounced on her like a young lion bringing down its first kill, bearing Sonja to the floor. She snarled and brought her knee into his groin, forcing him to let go of her throat.
Sonja staggered to her feet and grabbed Fell by the back of his collar, throwing him against wall. He no longer the pretty boy she first saw at Ghost Trap. It was clear that his regenerative powers were far slower than hers, as his eyes were nearly obscured by swollen bruises, his nose was broken in at least three places, and his lower lip drooped like a mule’s.
“Just-just wait until our Father comes!” he gasped through bleeding lips.
“You dumb meat puppet!” she snapped. “You still don’t understand, do you? He set us both up! You don’t stand a snowball’s chance against me, and Morgan knows it! He sent you here to die, Fell! You’re nothing but a decoy, sent to distract me until his pet Renfields could work up a serious enough whammy to take me out.”
“You’re lying!” he sobbed angrily. “Father would never betray me like that!”
“What’s your name?” Sonja asked as she withdrew her switchblade.
He looked at her as if she had asked him who was buried in Grant’s tomb. “You know what my name is. It’s Fell.”
“Wrong answer,” she said, severing his left ear.
Fell screamed and grabbed at the side of his head, but was unable to escape her grip.
“Okay, I’m going to ask you again,” she said evenly. “What’s your name?”
“It’s Fell, damn it! What’s the fuck wrong with—yaaaah!” This time the switchblade sliced open his left nostril.
“No, no!” she admonished. “You’re not listening! I said what’s your name?”
“What do you expect me to say?” he sobbed. “It’s Fell! It’s always been Fell!”
“I’m only gonna ask you one more time, then it’s for keeps, understand?” she sighed, slicing away his right eyebrow. “What is your name?”
“I told you it’s—” Suddenly his eyes grew wide and his mouth slack, as if he’d just remembered something incredibly important. “Oh. My. God. It’s Tim. My name is Tim.”
Sonja heaved a sigh of relief and stepped aside, allowing him to slump to the floor, hiding his mutilated face in bloodstained hands. His shoulders shook as he tried to cry. She could hear sirens coming closer.
“I didn’t have the time to deprogram you properly,” she said apologetically. “So I had to take drastic measures. C’mon, kid.” Her voice softened as she offered him her hand. “C’mon, we gotta split. The cops will be here any second.”
“Where are we going?” he asked fearfully, shrinking from her touch.
“I’m taking you to your daughter.”
Chapter Eighteen
Palmer leaned against the headboard of the bed, cradling Lethe in the corner of his left arm while holding her bottle in his right. He was amazed something so tiny could possess such an appetite. He didn’t look up at the sound of the hotel room door being unlocked. His psychic ability was already developed enough that he already recognized Sonja’s presence half-way down the hall.
“You know, you were right about her, Sonja,” he admitted sheepishly. “She’s not like her twin at all. She’s beautiful, and she’s got such tiny fingers, with perfect little fingernails...”
“Is that her? Is that my daughter?”
Palmer looked up from the feeding baby, startled to see a young man standing next to Sonja. He had long, blond hair and one side of his face looked like someone had used it for batting practice. The young vampire shifted about uneasily, like a schoolboy standing before the principal.
“Palmer, this is Lethe’s father,” Sonja said. She turned to look at their guest. “By the way, what do you want use to call you? Tim or Fell?”
“I might as well stay Fell,” he replied with a shrug. “Being Tim didn’t work out that well.” He took a hesitant step forward. “Can I hold her?”
“I don’t see why not,” Sonja replied. “After all, she is your daughter.”
Grudgingly, Palmer surrendered Lethe to her father, who lifted her up so he could see her. Fell’s bruised lips pulled into a smile at the sight of his daughter’s face. “She looks so very much like Anise,” he whispered as he sank down onto the edge of the bed, “This is happening too fast. There’s too much to think, too much I’m starting to remember…”
Sonja knelt beside Fell, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Start from the beginning. Who were you before you met Morgan?”
“My name is—was?—Timothy Sorrell. I was a sophomore English Major at Berkeley. I’m from Indiana, originally. My parents and older sister were killed in a car crash when I was ten. I got passed around a lot amongst my relatives after that. They were good people, but they didn’t really know what to do with me, so they left me to my own devices most of the time. I was a pretty morbid kid, fascinated and terrified by death at the same time. I really got into stuff like vampires, ghouls, mummies—the whole undead thing. By the time I graduated high school, I was dressed in black all the time and spending my money on occult literature. You know, your typical Food Court Goth.
“My first few months at Berkeley were okay. I even met people who didn’t think I was weird for liking the kind of stuff I was into. But during my sophomore ye
ar I started having these... dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“Bad ones. Full of blood and walking dead things. When I was younger I used to dream I was a vampire like Christopher Lee or Frank Langella, seducing nubile young women. But these new dreams were different. Sometimes I’d see myself and I looked like a rotting corpse, and my victims weren’t beautiful women but old bag ladies and skanky-looking whores. Instead of surrendering to my hypnotic stare, they would scream and try to get away, so I hurt them even more for trying to escape. It wasn’t at all like in the movies. But what really scared me was the pleasure I got from watching them scream and die. I always knew I was a little, you know, eccentric, but this was the first time I was honestly worried about my own sanity. That’s when I decided to seek professional help...
“Dr. Caron came highly recommended.” Fell’s laugh was dry and brittle. “He seemed to understand what I was going through. Soon after I started seeing him the nightmares turned back to the wet dreams I was familiar with. He told me the reason for my nightmares was that I felt dissatisfied with my life and resented never having known a ‘real’ family. He then invited me to be a part of a special experimental therapy session at his private estate. I think you know the rest.”
Sonja nodded. “Morgan selected those who wouldn’t be readily missed and already displayed certain...tendencies he could work to his advantage. Of the ten he hand-picked, you and Anise were the only ones to survive, am I right?”
Fell nodded, looking down at his daughter, who was innocently playing with one of his blood-smeared fingers. “It was horrible—I can still hear their screams, even now. I remember thinking how beautiful Anise was back then, back when we both were human. To tell you the truth, I was kind of surprised she was even in the group. She seemed so together, you know? I knew I didn’t stand a chance with a woman like her. Maybe that’s why it was so easy for me to believe ‘Father’ when he told me I was Anise’s husband.
“I realize now that she never truly loved me, that she was merely doing Morgan’s bidding. But what I felt for her was completely real—Morgan never had to ‘make’ me love her. That’s why losing her hurt so much. It was real love I felt for her, not pretend. When ‘Father’ told me that you’d murdered both her and the baby, I went mad. I wanted to avenge myself and prove I was worthy to be called his son.” He gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. “So what do I do now?”
“You can come with us to the Yucatan,” Sonja said gently. “You can raise your child in peace there.”
“How can I possibly be a fit father?” he exclaimed. “I’m not even human!”
“Neither is your child,” she reminded him. “Fell, you don’t have to go through this alone. I’ve been where you are now, and know what you’re feeling. I can teach you how to master your powers and gain control over the darkness inside you. That’s a luxury I never truly had. Although I had some guidance early on, most of what I know I learned the hard way, and I have the autopsy scars to prove it. And I’ll the first to admit that there are still plenty of things about the Real World I don’t know. But I can tell you that the next stage of your development as a dhampire will be dangerous, and if you’re not careful, it will cost you your soul.”
“You mean I still have one?” he asked in surprise.
“Like I said at Ghost Trap—you and I are brother and sister. You’re like me—you never died long enough for your soul to leave. The only difference between the two of us was that I was a fluke, while you were deliberately created. I’m not sure how, but Morgan succeeded in altering your genetic structure into that of a vampire’s without killing you. Right now you’re still more human than vampire—that’s how you and Anise were capable of conceiving. But it won’t be long before the vampiric side of your personality will start to emerge. And, believe me; you’re going to need help learning how to control it. There’s no going back to what you were, Fell. Adapt or die. Those are your only choices.”
“But what about Morgan?” Fell replied. “He’s not going to simply let us waltz away free.”
“I promised Anise I’d protect her baby from Morgan. There’s only one way I can do that: kill him.”
There was still enough of the old programming clinging to Fell’s synapses that the very suggestion seemed to shock him. “Is that even possible?” he gasped.
“As long as Morgan continues to exist, we’ll be constantly looking over our shoulders, waiting for his next move. We won’t be safe and, more importantly, neither will Lethe. It’s got to be done.”
“When?”
“As soon as possible.”
Palmer jumped up, making ‘time-out’ gestures with his hands. “Whoa! Wait a minute! What happens if you end up getting killed instead of Morgan? What happens then?”
“If I’m not back by dawn, take Fell and Lethe to the airport. You’ll find passports in the bottom of my overnight bag. There are one way tickets to Mérida waiting at the Taca International desk. Once you arrive in Mérida, check into the Smoking Gods Hotel. The manager there is holding an envelope that, essentially, transfers a company called Indigo Imports—and all its assets—over to you. It’s the best I could do on such short notice.”
“You had this planned all along, didn’t you?” Palmer frowned.
“I told you I’d take care of things, didn’t I? You were planning on retiring from the detective racket, anyway. Now you can relax and sell stuffed toads dressed like mariachi bands and Day of the Dead tableaux to trendy Manhattan boutiques, just like you always wanted,” she said with a crooked smile.
“I’m going with you,” Fell announced suddenly.
“Are you sure about that?” Sonja frowned.
“The bastard used me! He preyed on my weaknesses and exploited me! If I don’t have the right to kill him, who does? I’ll fight you all over again, if I have to.”
“Very well,” Sonja sighed in resignation. “He won’t expect us to move against him so quickly. In fact, it’s highly likely he believes I’ve killed you.”
“What about me?” asked Palmer.
“Someone has to look after Lethe. Like I said, if you don’t hear from us come dawn, take a cab to the airport and do exactly what I described.” Sonja stepped forward and took Palmer’s hands into her own and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I have to do this, Palmer. You know you can’t stop me from going. But please try to understand why.”
“I do understand,” he said quietly. “Just try your damndest to come back.”
“You’re going to do just fine, whether I’m with you or not,” she said reassuringly.
“I don’t want to do fine without you,” he replied. “I just want you.”
She smiled then, and it was as if she were sixteen and human again.
Palmer turned to retrieve Lethe from her father. “I’ll take good care of your little girl,” he said. “Don’t worry; I used to have a kid, myself, a long time ago.”
Palmer didn’t like the idea of Fell accompanying Sonja to Ghost Trap to attack Morgan. Although he didn’t envy Sonja and Fell their task, part of him wished he could be with them. After all, he’d been in on the case since the beginning, and it was only natural for him to want to be there when it ended—no matter what the outcome. But he had to admit that when it came down to battling powerful six-hundred-year-old vampire lords, his twenty-five years of street-smarts as a P.I. weren’t much use.
He carefully returned Lethe to her makeshift bassinette and began packing his suitcase. He was astonished by how easily the golden-eyed infant seemed to override his usual ambivalence toward small children. Sonja was right, though. Lethe was their biggest concern. Since she was unable to protect herself, it was up to him, should the others fail, to make sure she didn’t fall into Morgan’s hands.
Suddenly there came a knock on the door, interrupting his train of thought. Palmer frowned; it couldn’t possibly be Maid service, not at this hour. There was second knock, this one heavy enough to rattle the doorjamb. Palmer took his backu
p gun, a Luger, out of its case and quickly checked the breech.
“Who is it?” he barked.
The hinges on the door bulged inward in answer, followed by the sound of metal and wood splintering. The hotel room door flew open, hanging from its hinges like a broken wing.
The ogre had to duck his head in order to enter the room. Dressed in a trench coat over a black turtleneck sweater and corduroy jeans, Kief could almost pass for linebacker out on the town, save for his jutting tusks.
“Pangloss say you come now,” the ogre rumbled, emitting a rank odor of bull-ape aggression that made Palmer’s testes crawl.
“But he promised to leave me alone!” Palmer explained. “I’m Sonja’s Renfield now!”
The ogre chuckled, exposing a mouthful of yellow, serrated teeth. “She leave. Gone to play with Morgan. She not coming back. Pangloss say he got dibs.”
“Back off, Kong! I don’t care if the Pope himself wants an audience!” Palmer said as he pointed the Luger at the ogre. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”
Kief growled his indifference and continued to advance. Palmer fired the Luger, only to have the bullet struck the thick ridge of the ogre’s brow and slide across his bald pate like a pad of butter on a hot skillet. Except for a thin red line bisecting his skull, Kief showed no ill effect from being shot in the head at what amounted to point-blank range.
“That sting,” the ogre grunted, cuffing Palmer with the back of his hand.
It was like meeting the business end of a weighted Louisville Slugger. Palmer sailed across the room, landing on a small table in the corner that collapsed under his weight. Palmer struggled to sit up, his vision swimming from the blow. He cringed at the sight of the ogre lumbering towards him, displaying a fearsome shark’s grin. Then, to his amazement, the giant came to an abrupt halt.
Kief tilted his head and sniffed the air with wide, gorilla-like nostrils. He beamed an idiotic smile, a rope of thick saliva dangling from his lower jaw. “I smell baby.” A gray, forked tongue snapped out of the ogre’s gaping mouth, licking his cracked lips. His eyes narrowed as he regarded Palmer. “You got baby around here?”
In the Blood (Sonja Blue) Page 17
