Angel Souls and Devil Hearts

by Christopher Golden

  Diplomacy and the will to survive had made Hannibal see the light, so to speak, and now Hannibal was the chief marshal of the SJS, the Shadow Justice System. Alexandra’s blood-brother, the mute Rolf Sechs, was his deputy chief, and though the shadows had no true government, they all recognized Meaghan and Alex as the top of the hierarchy. The older ones, the elder vampires who would naturally have taken that spot, were less than interested.

  At least for the moment.

  “That is what you said,” Secretary Graham chimed in. “The report is firm on this, that you saw Mulkerrin die.”

  “Actually,” Hannibal finally spoke up, “that was mainly for the benefit of your, um, human sensibilities.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?” Graham asked. She was a hot-head, never mindful of her words, even when speaking to beings who could destroy her in an instant. Typical American politician.

  “Meaning,” Meaghan said, and all four faces on the screen came to attention, “quite simply, that we lied.”

  “You lied?” Now even Rafael Nieto was upset.

  “Well, not lied exactly,” Alex added, her natural belligerence making her placating tone sound more sarcastic than anything else. “Even though you’d been forced to accept our existence by the media and, of course, our physical presence, we didn’t think you’d believe what really happened.”

  Of all the shadows, only Alexandra truly understood how much power they held in the world. The old doctor, Marcopoulos, who’d refused the gift of immortality more times than Alex could count, was probably the only human who understood. After all, acting together, the shadows would be virtually unstoppable.

  “You’ve seen all the videotapes,” Marcopoulos began, cutting off any further protest by the others. “Those portals Mulkerrin used to bring the other shadows, the demonic things, into our world? Well, that’s where he and Octavian went. Peter carried the sorcerer through the largest of those portals, and into whatever was on the other side. We had to assume they were dead because of what we believe was on the other side of those portals.”

  “And what, Ambassador, is that?” Nieto said, calmer now.

  They were all silent, until Meaghan finally spoke up.

  “Hell, sir. We believe that Hell itself is beyond those portals.”

  The uproar was incredible, with the American secretary of state uttering several expletives ill befitting her station. When the furor died down, it was Hannibal who spoke, showing restraint that was, to Meaghan and Alex at least, nothing short of remarkable.

  “Ms. Graham, Mr. Nieto, please understand that we do not wish to imply, even for a moment, that the ‘Hell’ of Christian teachings exists as it has been depicted in myth. Nor that the place to which we refer exists beneath the surface of the Earth. Rather, the ‘Hell’ we are discussing exists simultaneously in space with our own world, half a step to the right of what we would call reality. But make no mistake, it is very real in its way, and is the basis for all of the myths of that place of fire and suffering.”

  “But, is it supernatural?” Graham asked.

  “Of course it is!” Alexandra barked. “Haven’t you seen the monsters it has spawned? The magic which exists there? Anything science has yet to define is supernatural.”

  “Never mind this,” George Marcopoulos cut in. “We’re wasting time. What we’ve got is this: Mulkerrin is back, all communications to Salzburg are out. According to Secretary Graham, satellite recon is blacked out in that area. Obviously, wherever he’s been, he’s much more powerful than before. So, what are we going to do about it?”

  “Thank you, George. Now, Rafe,” Alexandra said and smiled, ruffling the UNSG’s feathers with her familiarity and enjoying every moment of it, “what do you say we scramble a joint UN/SJS force and surround Salzburg, hum?”

  “What about it, Julie?” Nieto asked the American secretary. “Will your boy jump in with the rest of us?”

  “You know he will,” Graham answered. “We’re in, all right, but only under UN auspices.”

  “SJS will take command,” Hannibal said curtly.

  “I think not,” Nieto snapped.

  “Hannibal,” Meaghan said softly, and they were quiet once more. “You will cooperate with the UN on this, but you’ll only take orders from Rafael’s appointed commander. Is that clear?”

  “Quite.”

  “Good. Now let’s stop fucking around and take this bastard down hard and for good.”

  Alexandra smiled to herself She was usually the one playing hardball, just naturally a bitch, but she loved to watch Meaghan take command. Mostly because, as smart as she was, Meaghan was almost never aware of it. She had yet to truly notice how much deference she was given, how much power she had, and she only shook her head whenever Alex pointed it out to her. Alex loved her for her innocence, but she knew that Meaghan’s power would someday make her a target as well. International governments wouldn’t touch her, for fear of shadow retribution, but the elders had already begun to question her right to lead. Eventually, it would become dangerous for Meaghan to retain even an ounce of her humanity.

  They were preparing to disconnect the vid-conference when George spoke up. They all paid attention, for not only was he the shadows’ ambassador, he had been Peter Octavian’s best friend.

  “Meaghan?” He paused, not sure how to continue. “If Mulkerrin made it back, what about Peter?”

  “I don’t know, George. I’m afraid to hope.”

  “Don’t be,” Alexandra said to her, to all of them, resolved to the battle ahead. “Hope is all we have.”

  Salzburg, Austria, European Union.

  Tuesday, June 6, 2000, 2:33 P.M.:

  When Cody put Allison down among the trees, and reverted to his true form, he saw that she was in a state of near shock.

  “Allison,” he snapped at her, and her eyes went wide in reply. “We’ve got to go!”

  She paid little attention as Cody dragged her along, taking a shortcut behind buildings onto Hofstallgasse and then pounding the pavement toward their hotel. Only when they were almost there did she seem to come out of her daze, and even then she didn’t speak. Rather, she picked up her pace so they were running full tilt toward the hotel. When they came bursting into the lobby, every head turned to take them in, arrogant scowls on so many faces. They realized then that the city was unaware of the danger, the evil, looming over them within the walls of the Festung Hohensalzburg.

  Cody understood how foolish they must have appeared, but that was his last concern. Once again with Allison in tow, he bolted for their room, not bothering to wait for an elevator, bounding instead up three flights of stairs, then stopping to wait for Allison, who was quite out of breath. On the fifth floor, they walked briskly down the hallway to their room.

  Allison picked up the phone immediately and began to dial an outside line.

  “Shit!” she said, pounded the receiver down, then picked it up and dialed again.

  “Come on,” she growled, hanging up again and punching “0” for the hotel operator.

  “Why can’t I get an outside line?” she said, and as Will Cody watched, the color ran out of Allison’s face.

  “A coincidence, maybe?” she said, looking at Will.

  “What is?”

  “The phones are working in the city, but as of about ten minutes ago, nobody can get an outside line. Nobody! I’m sure you realize this, but we need a little goddamn help here.”

  “Don’t worry,” Cody said, sitting down next to her on the bed.

  “Don’t worry? Are you kidding me? The phones aren’t out all by themselves, we both know that. This guy was supposed to be dead and instead he’s back and stronger than before, and now we’re all alone here, the two of us against him and whatever those things were in the fortress and of course, whatever other assistance he manages to raise. Don’t worry? I’m terrified! And what about all these people? The nice people of this city? They’re going to die.”

  She paused for a breath, a decision lighting her e
yes.

  “We’ve got to tell them,” Allison said, and then she was up and headed for the door.

  Cody caught her by the arm and spun her, effortlessly, to face him. His face was grave, his eyes frightened, but his voice was calm and pleasant as ever.

  “Allison, sweetheart, wake up now and pay attention. First up, we are going to tell people, but the first person we’ll tell is the mayor, and let him and his people worry about evacuating. We’ve got other concerns. Second, as far as help goes, you can believe it’s on the way. I’ve already been in touch with Alexandra, and they’ll be—”

  “How? I was with you the—”

  “In my head, remember. We’re of the same blood-father. Everything we just lived through, she was there with me. She knows what’s happening and I’m sure that she and Meaghan are already scrambling help for us. No, we can’t take this bastard on alone, but we can start making preparations for when the cavalry does arrive.”

  Allison looked at the floor for a second, took a couple of deep breaths, then picked up the phone again.

  “This is Allison Vigeant from CNN News,” she told the hotel operator. “Get me the mayor, please, this is an emergency.”

  Cody smiled then. This was the woman he’d fallen in love with in Venice. She was back in action. And to think he’d been certain she and Sandro Ricci, the cameraman who’d worked with her in Venice, would end up together. Will Cody thought he was pretty perceptive when it came to people, but he had to admit he’d called that one wrong. Though he’d seemed like a nice guy, and was certainly brave, Sandro had turned out to be an arrogant pipsqueak. When Cody saw her again, in Rome, three weeks after the Jihad, Allison, who’d been pointing a gun at Will’s head the first time they met, had made her attraction to him no secret.

  It was amazing, really. He’d spent his human life as two people, one man torn between two callings. One, William F. Cody, had been a buffalo hunter, an army scout, a scoundrel who gambled and drank and stole beer shipments with Wild Bill Hickok. The other, “Buffalo Bill,” was an entertainer and the star of thousands of dime novels with barely an ounce of truth in them. One scalped Chief Yellow Hand in memory of an idiot named Custer, while the other was known around the world, even among the American tribes, as a kind, fair, generous man who was good with everyone’s money but his own.

  Two people, one man. When Karl Von Reinman had brought him to the life of shadows, as Cody October, Will had at once been excited and repulsed. He couldn’t be changed. From the beginning, though he’d never really needed it, he continued to carry a gun. He rebelled against his coven, sought a life of adventure, and was reviled for it. Over time, his two natures merged, and by the time of the Venice Jihad, he had become nearly as much of a hero in his heart as he had been made by time and legend.

  He remembered what it was like to be human, to be afraid. And his relationship with Allison helped to keep both things close to him, the fear and the heroism. She helped him be what he was without trying to fulfill the expectations of others, hard enough as a human, and harder still once the world found out he was alive, and a vampire. He was happy to license the revival of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, but he wouldn’t perform. His serious commentary was in the film industry, and there he would be known as Will Cody.

  Whatever shadows were, whatever William F. Cody had become, Allison reminded him, and he became a reminder to his own kind, that vampires had human hearts. Never let it be said that we have no souls, Meaghan Gallagher had said to him once. Words to live by, even if you lived forever.

  “No!” Allison shouted at the mayor of Salzburg over the phone. “You don’t understand . . . Yes, I am with Colonel Cody right now, and the threat is real. That is why your communications are malfunctioning. Believe me, troops are on the way, you must evacuate.”

  She was silent for a moment, and even across the room, Cody could hear every word the mayor said in reply. There was no way he was going to take any action based on her word alone, even if “Colonel” Cody backed her up. He just couldn’t take such a risk.

  “Can you afford the risk if you don’t evacuate?” Allison said, getting angry now.

  And then the earthquake began.

  The hotel shook to its foundations, windows shattered and the floor beneath the bed began to buckle. Cody moved barely fast enough to knock Allison away from the bed and onto the marble bathroom threshold. Above them the ceiling was about to cave in, and Cody saw it just in time. He covered Allison with his own body as it gave way.

  The quake lasted seventeen seconds. When it was over, Cody’s back had been torn open by a falling beam, which even now he held up, away from Allison, with his body. As soon as the ground stopped shaking, he used his strength to turn slowly, sending the beam sliding into the hole that had opened in the center of the room. For the moment, their spot half-in, half-out of the bathroom seemed safe enough.

  Even as he checked Allison for injuries, and found none, Cody’s back was healing. By the time Allison had the presence of mind to look him over, the only evidence of any wound was his torn and bloody shirt. He looked around for a fresh one, and saw that most of their belongings had fallen down to the floors below. Aftershocks could come at any time, Cody knew, so he didn’t waste a second worrying about clothing. He made do with an old Allman Brothers Band concert T-shirt that he’d worn to bed the night before. His tan-colored light cotton jacket was hung on the bathroom door, and he grabbed that as well.

  The one other thing he was able to salvage, from behind a heating grate in the wall, was his holstered Beretta—nine-millimeter, semiautomatic, loaded with hollow points, fifteen in the clip and one in the chamber. He was a better rifle shot, but rifles were a tad conspicuous on most days. He slid into both holster and jacket, and turned to find Allison observing the entire transformation with raised eyebrows.

  “I’ve never understood why you feel the need to carry that,” she said.

  “Call it a security blanket,” he answered. “I’ll never shoot as well as my old friend Annie Oakley, but then, I’m still around, aren’t I?”

  She looked as if she were going to say something, and then must have realized it was not the time.

  “Well, I’m certain the mayor will get with the program now, so what’s our next move?” Allison asked.

  “You mean after we get out of here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s talk about it after we get out of here.”

  They smiled together, and then Cody walked to the edge of the hole, stepping gingerly. He wouldn’t have any trouble getting back up if he fell, but it would be inconvenient.

  What he saw when he looked down was unexpected. Where he had assumed that their bed and most of their furniture had collapsed into the room below, in truth a chain reaction had taken place, with the weight of each floor collapsing the next until they had all fallen in. And at the bottom . . . At the bottom there was only darkness. Cody struggled to concentrate, to focus his vision, and then realized what he was seeing. A huge fissure had opened up right beneath the hotel, tearing its foundation wide enough that much of its bulk had fallen into that hole. But then how deep was the hole if most of the debris had disappeared into it?

  “Allison,” he said, “look out the window and tell me what you see.”

  “Cracks,” she answered. “A lot of cracks, why?”

  They shared a look then, which was nearly as effective as telepathy. It had been obvious from the first tremor that Mulkerrin’s power had caused the earthquake. They didn’t know how, but they were certain it was him. Therefore, they could no longer put any limit on his abilities, not until they learned those limits for themselves. In the meantime they had to get out of the hotel, perhaps out of the city proper, before another quake hit. They had both realized that there would very likely be another.

  The first problem to be surmounted was that between them and the door was approximately twelve feet of open space, its edges crumbling, and a fall of sixty or seventy feet, minimum, waitin
g below. The easiest way to go was out the window and onto the ledge which ran around the building on each of its three topmost floors. Once there, it was a simple task, as long as the next quake took its time to make their way along the ledge to the next room.

  Cody smashed the remaining glass away from the shattered window frame and helped Allison through. The couple who’d been staying in the next room had either not been in the room or had already fled the hotel. The stairs, on the way down, were cracked and crumbling, and when they reached the lobby, they joined a large group trying to get a look into the hole without falling. As was true in any disaster, it would be some time before the police could clear the gawkers away.

  Cody could see the bottom of the hole now, and all of the debris and furniture strewn there. In fact, he could see Allison’s suitcase sticking out of the pile. The top of the junkheap was about thirty feet down. Cody thought of coming back for Allison’s case later. But first . . .

  “Okay, people,” Allison said, in English, to the crowd. “We don’t know when there will be another . . . an aftershock, and this is about the worst place to be if and when that comes. Why don’t we all get into the street and wait for help to arrive?”

  She received a dirty look from the hotel manager, who was now surrounded by people chattering at him about their losses. Several people were apparently injured, but it didn’t seem as though anyone had been killed, at least not any guests of the hotel. In any case, people were beginning to file out now, and she and Cody turned to follow.

  “Ma che diavolo succede?” a voice exclaimed behind them.

  Neither Cody nor Allison understood more than a few words in Italian, but they got the idea. Back at the hole, an older, white-haired man was peering into the depths, and as they watched, he backed off slightly, as if frightened.

  Before they had reached the edge, Allison knew what they would find, and she was sure that Cody knew it too. But to see it was horror. The hole was now only ten feet deep, blocked after that point by a shimmering pool, a silver mirror that rippled with each stone that fell from the crumbling floor to touch its surface.