“Right,” he said. “I forgot. You just love dying spectacularly.”
Vesper looked up and stared at him, shocked.
“The last time, you stood proudly, and told me to stop fucking around and get to work,” the lord sighed, shaking his head. “As far as I remember, something like that.” He looked down, waved his hand in a cutting gesture. “Get up, Vesper, quit fooling around. Dramatic scenes are the last thing I need here right now.”
He glanced at the desk, and sat behind it in a split second, sitting in the chair. He watched the young nighter rise from his knees, and look around in amazement. He sighed again, then looked at Nidor, who immediately cowered within himself even more.
“A very good young nighter,” Ultor said emphatically. “With a huge potential, literally bursting with power. I had serious plans for him. Now everything has gone to hell, and the kid found himself in a really nasty situation... because of someone's laziness and stupidity!”
The captain bowed his head even lower.
“If I can do anything...” Nidor asked humbly. “Allow me, Lord. Maybe he can be saved. I’ll try my best.”
“I don’t know if we can afford a risk like that,” Ultor said coldly. “After all, we just found out that...” he paused.
He looked at Vesper, standing uncertainly in the same place where had he stood up from his knees. He smiled at the kid, apparently wanting to cheer him up.
“No one of my Family had ever betrayed me,” he explained. “No warrior had ever become a renegade. Until recently. We have just learned that Aranea...” he paused again, struggling with words. “One of my generals, a very close associate ...” he swallowed, shaking his head. “She betrayed me. She crossed over to the renegades. She shattered the local lord with lightning speed, and now she governs them.” Suddenly, he shot phrases out like from a rifle. “We can expect the worst of everything. She’s good, there’s no doubt of that. She is good. Atroks was stupid, a perpetually drunk bastard. Aranea is intelligent, and has a talent for intrigue. On top of that, she yearns for revenge. It will be hard for us now.” He paused again, then added, “I don’t know if we can afford a nighter’s betrayal on top of that.”
“Nidor will watch over me,” Vesper said calmly. “If anything happens, he will have time to kill me, right?”
Ultor looked at the captain with a silent question painted on his face. The other man gulped and nodded with clear difficulty.
“If you doubt my competence, Lord...” he croaked weakly. “I wouldn’t be surprised, but I would like to vouch that I will try very hard...”
“All right,” the vampire lord sighed, raising his hand to his forehead and rubbing it wearily. “I will let you off the hook, Nidor. Everyone can fuck up sometimes.” He paused for a moment, then added grimly “I provided the renegades with a new leader at my own request, after all.”
They lowered their heads immediately, hiding astonished glances. The Lord Warrior admitted publicly to a mistake, and such serious one... Inconceivable.
Ultor shook himself suddenly, his face hardening.
“All right, enough of these politics,” he said firmly. “Vesper!”
Vesper straightened up immediately. “Yes, my Lord!”
“What’s done is done,” Ultor said seriously. “But you have a psyche, boy, so I think it’s worth a try. You’ll just have to try harder. To get out of this as soon as possible.”
“I will avoid all trouble...” the young nighter began to speak quickly, but Lord Ultor silenced him with one wave of his hand.
“On the contrary,” he said firmly. “You will confront them as often as possible. But with a babysitter on your back. Nidor!”
The captain straightened up immediately.
“I'll take most of your duties off you for now, promote someone else to take over a portion of things.” The lord said. “Your priority will be caring for the kid. If he sneezes, you’ll have five minutes to find out what strain of virus infected his respiratory system.”
“Vampires don’t catch a cold...” Vesper wanted to protest, but cowered under the lord’s crushing stare.
“I’m training in moving freely among people,” Ultor drawled slowly. “It would be useful for the two of you from time to time, before you forget what’s talked about there.”
“Yes, Lord!” Both replied immediately.
“Get out of here,” the lord said, waving them away. “You have to be back here in an hour, both of you. You will help me at the Bunker. I want the youngster to see what a blood addiction leads to.”
“Yes, Lord!” they repeated, like their own echo.
They turned around and marched out of the office. Standing in the corridor, they looked at each other, their faces brightened slowly.
“It worked,” they both whispered at once.
They extended their hands and joined them in a strong fraternal embrace.
“Thank you, kid,” Nidor said in slightly hoarse voice. “Thank you and... I’m sorry.”
“I won’t tell you no problem, because there is one,” Vesper said seriously. “But you know, there is nothing bad that didn’t turn out right yet. We have yet to see.”
“We'll see,” Nidor agreed and shook his hand again.
***
When the three of them stood in front of the renegade’s cell, Vesper couldn’t hide his amazement. The prisoner was now a completely different creature. The proud tiger had disappeared somewhere, and a pitiful ball had taken its place, trembling and sobbing in the corner. Twenty-four hours had made incredible damages to the renegade’s psyche. At Lord Ultor’s nod, Nidor entered the code. The grate pulled up instantly, and the lasers flashed briefly and went out, and they crossed into the cell.
The sensor waited a moment, and when nobody else crossed the barrier, sent a signal to the control panel. One of the grates dropped down behind them just in case.
Attagen finally lifted his head. He looked at them with bloodshot, teary eyes. A glimmer of understanding shot across his face. He heaved up and sat up with an obvious effort. His fangs were extended far beyond the lower lip. He tried to hide his hands behind his back, but Vesper noticed his fingers were bitten to blood anyway.
“Your own blood won’t satisfy you,” Ultor said. “You need something else... don’t you?”
The renegade only winced. Vesper saw that his face was covered with tiny blisters. So the bastard did get sassy, he thought quickly. And the guys took him to the tanning bed. He shuddered slightly, imagining the burning rays.
“Oh, the lord brought in the puppy,” Attagen rasped suddenly, looking at Vesper. “What? Is he going to train him now... that it doesn’t pay to stand up for himself? That it’s not worth anything to be free, because he could lose his head?”
“Exactly that,” the lord agreed quietly. “I will train him like Pavlov's dog. To have a gag reflex even if he only thinks what illegal blood does to a vampire.”
He motioned to Nidor, and he handed him a small black leather briefcase. Ultor opened it, and took out a plastic bag full of blood in slow motion.
“Artificial,” the renegade grimaced. “Fail. That kind doesn’t temp me.”
Lord Ultor smiled. He sat up in the air, and put his briefcase on his lap. The bag of blood hung in the air just above the suitcase. He then slowly took out a small, two-milliliter syringe filled with a white, clear liquid.
“Epinephrine hydrochloride,” he read the inscription on the label. “Adrenalinum.”
He tore open the package, injected the entire contents into the blood bag, piercing it at the top so as not to spill the contents. He threw the syringe on the floor, and it rolled over with a soft, plastic clatter.
“Well, how do you see it now?” He said carelessly. “Tastier?”
The renegade stared at him, stunned. He ran his tongue over the broken, bitten lips.
“Well, all right, I'll throw in something else.” Ultor pulled out another syringe. “Dopamine hydrochloride,” he read.
With a f
ew deft movements, he unwrapped the elixir and added it to the blood. He shook the bag, mixing the liquid slowly. He glanced at another syringe in the briefcase.
“Oh, you’ll certainly like that” he said, letting go of the blood bag, which stayed in the air, still swaying. “Hydrocortisonum. Yum.”
He added the hydrocortisone to the mix and looked at the renegade, who was sitting on the concrete floor, staring at him with hungry, frightened eyes. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Quit blubbering like that,” Ultor said with a sigh. “Like a child, really, like a child. If you want, I'll toss something else in for you. Oh, it will be unique. You've never tried it, I bet.” He picked up syringe labeled Oxytocin. “You'll like it, I guarantee it.” He added the syringe contents, and closed the briefcase firmly. “Enough of the good stuff.” He handed the briefcase to Nidor.
He stood up, holding the bag of blood in his hand. The renegade remained on the floor, rocking back and forth.
Ultor tore the corner of the bag, and poured a little red fluid on his right hand. The intense scent spread around the cell.
Vesper swallowed.
The torture chamber blood had smelled exactly like that; tempting with hidden, dark madness. The nighter’s body shivered, and his gums itched in a familiar way... but all stopped under one, short, decisive thought, No!
Ultor raised his hand to his mouth in a slow and sophisticated move, and dragged his tongue across it.
“I really know how to mix these cocktails,” he said with satisfaction.
The renegade at his feet began to howl dully. Lord Ultor looked down at him, and finally extended his bloody hand toward him.
“Well, what is it, pup?” He asked contemptuously. “Do you want to lick Master’s hand?”
The other man closed his eyes shut and broke into heart-wrenching sobs. He raised his hands to his face, then wrapped his arms around it, in a helpless, desperate gesture.
Vesper felt his short-cropped hair bristling on his head. He glanced furtively at Nidor. The captain stood quietly, but his sudden paleness showed clear testimony of the emotions ripping through him.
“No? Fine.” Ultor shrugged, raising his hand to his mouth again.
Then the renegade lunged at him, sobbing. He grabbed his arm, pulled it toward himself and began to lick the blood off of it in quick, desperate movements. Lord Ultor stood calmly, silent.
He had broken the prisoner. He didn’t have to do anything more.
Attagen finally let go of Ultor’s hand. He fell to the floor, lying on his back on the cold concrete. Unbelievable relief blossomed on his face.
“There wasn’t much of it, you know,” Ultor said then, wiping his hand on his coat. “It will stop working in a little bit. And it will all start over.”
“Yes, I know,” the renegade whispered, fixing his eyes on the ceiling. “You’ve got me, of course. You are the master of my suffering... and relief. What do you want? Tell me.”
“You’ll do whatever I want anyway,” Ultor said without a hint of triumph, and sadness could be heard in his voice. “And I want you to betray your lord. To tell us everything you know.”
Attagen closed his eyes again, choking on quiet, desperate sobs.
“You will do it,” Ultor said quietly. “It's just a matter of time. Sooner or later you will do it... this hunger is stronger than you. And you know that.”
The renegade rolled over, curling up in the fetal position. He looked at them, nodded grimly. Relief disappeared from his eyes, and hunger began to peer out.
“Here.” Lord tossed him the whole bag. “I have a feeling that we’ll talk better once you’re in... a happier mood.”
The bag hit the man in the arm, splashing some of the contents around. The vampire lunged at it instantly, greedily sucking the liquid. He ran over the stains drying on the concrete with his eyes. Maybe he should have licked them up first?
Suddenly he froze, looking at Ultor. He’d realized that the lord knew his every thought.
And had him in his fist. All of him.
So it didn’t matter, if he’d have time to lick all the puddled blood up. Because if he cooperated, he would get enough stoked blood, as much as he would want. And if he didn’t... then those few spots wouldn’t matter anyway.
The lord nodded slowly.
“I ask you only one thing,” Attagen rasped suddenly, taking the bag from his mouth. “When the time comes, and you want to cut my head off... Give me a drink before. Let me die with dignity. Not in this state... not hungry.”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” Ultor said hesitantly. “Your example is very instructive, you know. Oh, this young nighter here, for example...” he threw Vesper a fleeting glance. “He will certainly think it over many times before he gives up to momentary, illegal bloodlust.”
Vesper nodded eagerly. The nightmare he’d been able to witness certainly had little to do with being a proud tiger.
“Fool...” the renegade said, swaying rhythmically. “You don’t understand. Now I feel bad, even very bad. But it was good, so good... And this is the price you pay. I don’t regret anything at all. What would I regret? These night flights, when the moon was shining over me, and I was zooming along in the sky and the whole world lay in terror at my feet?”
“The whole world, yeah, right,” Warrior Lord Ultor sighed. “A band of terrified punks at most. You had nonsense in your head, because you were stoned. That’s all. The world is not at anyone’s feet, it’s too large for such silliness. Maybe The Hidden One could take it... but he just does not want to.” He paused, as if he had nothing more to say about it.
Attagen didn’t say a word anymore either. He lay on his back, staring at the gray, concrete ceiling. They stood over him, watching his face brighten up with time.
***
The renegade blinked and sat down. His eyes lit up with incredible brilliance; the blood was working. After a moment he got up swiftly, like a changed man. He laughed mockingly, challenging.
“Well, dog warden,” he said suddenly, looking at Ultor, “what did you want to know, human ass-wipe? You want to how real predators live, not like the castrated, pathetic rabble which you tell are worth more than dogs?”
How dare he talk to the lord like that? A furious voice screamed in Vesper’s head suddenly. Kill the motherfucker, kill him now!
The young nighter shook with sudden fury. He took a step forward, pulled the Glock from his holster, and fired instantly. One, two, three: two shots to the body, one to Attagen’s head. Vampire or not, 9mm full metal jacket Lugers, from less than a few yards away, should have smeared his brain on the wall, and even the most effective restorative abilities wouldn’t help with that.
“Nice!” Ultor laughed appreciatively.
The shells hung in the air, then fell limply to the ground. Vesper blinked and looked around, as if suddenly awakened. He looked at the gun he still held straight in front. He lowered his hands in slow motion.
“At least I tried,” Attagen sighed heavily. “You predicted it, of course. And you intercepted the bullets. Damn you, Ultor. Damn you to hell.”
“Put your weapon away,” the lord commanded, looking at Vesper. “Step back. And create a better mirror, kid.”
Don’t create any mirror, Vesper heard in his mind. Good... very good. Let the renegade think you’re weak. That he can do whatever he wants with you.
“Yes, sir,” Vesper said, stepping back and tucking the gun back into the holster.
He shivered involuntarily. Who was talking to him just now, in his mind? The lord? Or the renegade, mimicking him perfectly?
Nidor and I will attack him in a moment. He will be defending himself, he heard the same voice again. He will try to get you on his side. Let him. After all, you feel sorry for him; such a proud, free tiger... forced to lick his persecutor’s hand. That shouldn’t be a predator’s fate.
Vesper closed his eyes for a moment. Thoughts ran around in his head furiously.
Ultor. It was certainly Ultor
speaking. He had a plan.
But maybe Attagen, though. Who had a plan? He must have one, he’s playing for everything now. He’s masking as the lord to regain control...
I don’t know... fuck, I don’t know! Vesper thought with horror.
He stood erect with his feet slightly apart, hands clasped in front, one hand over the other. He raised his head, stared expressionlessly at the prisoner.
“So what have the renegades been involved in lately?” Ultor asked aloud. “Making extra cash from petty dealing? Bank robbing wasn’t enough anymore?”
Relax, kid. You can do it, the voice sounded. You're tougher than you think. A shade of smile passed through the thought, Not many people would be able to tell me to stop fucking around straight to my face.
A wave of relief swept over Vesper’s mind. Lord, it was the lord after all.
Yes, Lord! He confirmed immediately. I can do it... I'll try!
“You know; we need to make a living,” Attagen said slowly. “That was the plan, to make some extra cash...”
“So you don’t want to cooperate,” Ultor said angrily. “You’re giving me some bullshit. You think you got that blood for free?”
He won’t defend himself from you, he’s busy with us, the voice in Vesper’s head said. All you have to do is listen. He’s stoned, he could say too much... Go!
“Well, you got what you wanted,” the lord hissed.
A spasm of pain passed across renegade’s face, as Ultor and Nidor launched a mental attack. Attagen doubled over, then sank to his knees, finally falling to the floor. He began to writhe in agony.
Help me... Vesper heard. Tell them not to fucking do this to me... make them act honorably, like Night Children should... fucking dogs!
The renegade shook in convulsions, his scarred fingers tore spasmodically at the smooth, gray concrete. Vesper felt how a wave of sympathy flooded over him.
This is my Lord! he said, however, Whatever he does is right.
You are only a captive dog! the renegade thought’s exploded. Pavlov's Dog, trained to torture, to kill at an order!
“Vesper, get the fuck to work!” the lord yelled loudly. “Are you’re a nighter or not, damn it? Get him!”
Nighter Page 10
