He finally whammed against the gravel shoulder of the road, and the impact sent another bolt of agony through him.
Through his haze of pain, he heard the pursuing dogs roaring.
They're gonna tear me to pieces, he thought.
But strong hands hooked under his armpits and pulled him upright. Nia.
"I've got you, baby," she said. "Where are your keys?"
"Right pocket," he said in a thin voice.
Dragging him toward the vehicle, she dug into his pocket, retrieved the key chain, and pressed the button to deactivate the locks. Franklin, looking weary and disheveled, swung open the rear passenger door. They helped David inside.
He lay across the seat cushions, but not before he saw the dogs navigating down the hill. One of the canines plucked his duffel bag off the ground and trotted away as if it had found a prize bone.
"Hurry up," David said, in what he thought was a shout, but his words only came out as a hoarse whisper.
He heard the dogs, closer. Then doors opening and slamming. The engine rumbling. Spinning tires ripping through gravel.
"We made it!" Nia laughed deliriously.
It was the last thing David heard before he blacked out.
"We've got to get David home," Nia said. She drove, and Franklin rode in the passenger seat. "I think he sprained his ankle pretty badly, and he might have heat exhaustion, too"
"All of us are fortunate that we escaped with our lives." Franklin dried his face with a handkerchief. "Those fearsome dogs ... I do not understand how my own dog could turn against me so. He seemed not to recognize me at all."
"I don't know," she said. "This field trip of ours just raised more questions."
"Why was this Kyle character dressed in heavy, dark clothing on a hot day?" Franklin said. "Virtually none of his skin was exposed, did you notice?"
"He could be allergic to sunlight," Nia said. "Really, I have no idea."
"The control that he exerted over the animals. It was uncanny."
She wiped perspiration from her brow, steering with her other hand. She did not want to puzzle over the questions that Franklin raised, but she could not help herself. They had stumbled into something of unprecedented weirdness.
"Doubtless, Kyle and his hounds are responsible for the young woman who was mauled last night," Franklin said. "I would wager that he is guilty of the disappearances of the two people as well."
"We need to call the police," Nia said.
Franklin laughed bitterly. "Nia, we have no compelling evidence to support our theory. Although the dogs chased us, we were trespassing on private property, remember. Frankly, I'm not certain that Chief Jackson would be willing to listen to me speak on any topic. He practically hung up on me this morning. He has been behaving strangely."
"I don't know what we should do," she said. "All I want to do right now is take care of David. He's my priority."
Franklin peered in the rear seat, shook his head sadly. "Very well, you attend to David. We need him to be healthy for what we have ahead of us. In the meantime, I'm going to visit the young lady in the hospital. I want to know what she saw last night."
The dogs returned to where Kyle waited on the veranda of Jubilee.
Sitting in a cane rocking chair, he smiled. He had not ex pected the animals to capture the humans; he only wanted to frighten them to keep them away. They were meddlers, and too clever for their own good.
The laborers Mamu had employed must have informed others about the cave. It was only a matter of time before word reached humans who possessed expert knowledge, such as the professor.
Destroying the three humans would have raised a dangerous alarm in the town. He could not handle them in the manner that he had manipulated the police chief, either; he was talented, but unable to hypnotize more than one individual at a time. Allowing them to escape was the only safe course of action.
However, he would have to remain vigilant against the encroaching humans. He wished he and his father could leave this place, but he had to await Diallo's recovery.
As he thought of his father, his father's vow reverberated in his thoughts.
I shall rise again to slay my enemies.
He was grateful that the professor had translated the cave inscription. He knew the translation was correct. The hunger for vengeance burned in his father's heart.
The dogs flocked around Kyle. One of them carried a duffel bag between its teeth. The dog dropped the parcel at Kyle's feet.
Kyle remembered that David Hunter had been carrying this bag.
"Good work," he said to the hound.
Inside the bag, he found a flashlight, a bottle of water, a notebook with empty pages, pens, and a large, thick book with a worn cover. A Bible? Why would the man have brought this with him?
He placed the text on his lap. He slid his fingers across the front cover, which was emblazoned with a faded gold cross.
Contrary to myth, vampires did not fear the cross, or any religious symbols whatsoever. He had entered churches and temples on many occasions, seeking sanctuary and enlightenment. Being an immortal in an imperfect world could be a wrenching burden, and Mother could not answer every question to his satisfaction. He often sought Divine guidance.
Kyle had read the entire Bible several times. He longed to discover a reference to a vampire, but he had found nothing. The reason, according to Mother, was that vampires were predatory beasts, akin to lions and bears. Clearly, not all such animals were catalogued in the Bible.
It is our fate, our joy and our burden, to feed on mankind, Mother taught. Heaven, salvation, nirvana-these things are for man, not for us. Our souls are the souls of predators. Would you expect a wolf to be granted eternal life in the house of God?
When Kyle challenged Mother by asking her what became of the souls of humans who metamorphosed into vampires, Mother could not answer him. She was frustratingly ambiguous on matters of spirituality, and when she grew tired of his questioning, she advised him to put the troublesome thoughts out of mind. He would only aggravate himself, she said.
Although Mother was satisfied to avoid seeking answers to difficult questions, Kyle questioned the point of a cold, soulless existence. He yearned for more.
Maybe Mother was right about him. Maybe he was too human.
He opened the Bible, but it was only the same series of familiar books. Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers ...
He stopped, flipped back a page.
An expertly rendered black-and-white drawing filled the paper: a battle between a group of men, and a mob of manlike creatures that bore a resemblance to vampires. One of the creatures towered above all.
He searched for more illustrations. He found others, randomly placed.
"Impossible," he whispered.
These were drawings of the climactic battle between men and the legion of vampires led by Diallo.
Even his father's entrapment in the cave was illustrated.
When Mother finally confessed that his father was not dead, but was Asleep, she had told him the story of how his father had come to be imprisoned. Her tale was brought to vivid life in the pictures, with such accuracy that her words might have personally guided the artist.
The artist, indicated by the corner inscription, was James Hunter.
The name meant nothing to Kyle. The identities of the humans in the pictures were mysteries, too.
One man, in particular, appeared in nearly all of the drawings. He was depicted as a leader, a hero. The man who had entombed his father.
The man who had taken his father away from him for one hundred sixty-eight years ...
He clenched his hands into fists.
The dogs, sensing his change in mood, leapt off the veranda and fled across the yard.
It was irrelevant that the man responsible for imprisoning his father in the cave would certainly be dead. The man would have ancestors, and by virtue of their lineage, they bore responsibility for what he had done.
He would learn the i
dentity of the human who had taken away his father.
He would begin with the young man who had possessed the Bible: David Hunter.
David awoke to warm kisses on his cheek.
"Hi, Nia," he said, groggy, and reached out and touched an unexpectedly furry head. He blinked. "King!" He wiped the dog's saliva from his face with the heel of his hand.
The German shepherd breathed in David's face, grinning.
"You wild and crazy mutt" David laughed. His laugh was cut short by a sliver of rawness in his throat. He had never been so thirsty.
He lay on the bed in the master bedroom of the house, a thin blanket tucked over his body, the ceiling fan spinning slowly. Gray daylight slanted through the curtains. The bedside clock read 3:24.
The day was far from over, but he'd had enough adventure for a week. It hurt his head to think about everything that had happened. None of it made any kind of rational sense.
Nia walked into the room. She had changed into a pink blouse and shorts, and had wound her hair into a ponytail.
"You're a sight for sore eyes," he said.
"I'm glad you're awake," she said. Carrying a tall glass of water, she smiled and sat beside him on the bed. Gently, she touched his head. "You're in bad shape, Mr. Hunter. You twisted your ankle, then passed out from heat exhaustion. Here, have a sip." She brought the water toward him.
He raised into a sitting position, and she helped him drink. Water had never tasted so good.
"I lost my bag," he said. "The Bible was in there"
"Sorry, we weren't able to go back to get it. If we had tried. . ."
"I know." He sighed. "Where's Franklin?"
"He's home. He plans to go see the girl in the hospital whenever she wakes up again. He wants to question her about what she saw last night."
"Did he reach any conclusions about what we saw at the cave?"
"Not really. We only have more questions. Like, why that guy, Kyle, was dressed all in black in hot weather, covering up his whole body, practically."
"I thought about that the first time I met him. Weird."
"How did he control the dogs the way he did? We don't know the answer to that, either. Franklin's own dog acted like he didn't recognize him, remember?"
"I sure do" David pointed at King. "You ever act like you don't know me, King, and I'll disown you"
King licked his fingers.
"What I wonder is how my father has anything to do with what's happening," he said. "Pearl hinted that he was connected, somehow, but she couldn't give any details. It's a mystery."
"I don't have a clue, either. But Franklin is convinced that this Kyle guy is responsible for the disappearances in town. He and his killer dogs"
"I'd sure like to go with Franklin when he visits the girl in the hospital."
"Negative, Mr. Hunter. You're staying right here until you heal. You're in no shape to be running around playing the intrepid investigator."
He shifted his leg to test his condition, and a vise of pain tightened around his ankle. He grimaced.
"Okay, you're right." He leaned back against the pillow. "Talk about bad timing. This has to be the worst possible time for me to get hurt"
"While you were sleeping, I went to my house and picked up a pair of crutches. I suffered my share of injuries in my track running days, you know." She motioned behind her, indicating the aluminum crutches that leaned against the armoire.
He took her hand in his. "Thank you for taking care of me, Nia. I don't know what I'd do without you"
"You're welcome." She smiled. She leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips.
"Hmm. Your lips taste like orange and spice," he said.
"It's the tea I was drinking. I found a stash in the kitchen cabinet. I hope you don't mind."
"Mi casa es su casa, senorita. A few more of those kisses, and I won't be the only one lying across the bed"
"You can't handle any vigorous physical activity in your condition," she said, but she kissed him again.
He slid his arms around her waist. His hand roved under her shirt, traced circles across her back.
She peeled aside the bedsheet and carefully moved on top of him, straddling his body.
"Oooh." She reached down and felt his erection. "One muscle sure isn't sprained." She squeezed, teasingly.
He unbuttoned her blouse, slid it off her shoulders. He smoothly unhooked her bra. Her full, firm breasts tumbled out.
Her nipples, rigid with her arousal, were like chocolate drops. He kissed them, tasting their sweetness, and began to flick his tongue across them. She moaned.
"You are so lovely," he whispered. "No matter what happens to me while I'm here, coming was worth it so that I could meet you."
She placed her lips against his neck and slowly moved downward, kissing each inch of him, until she reached his navel. Her kisses left a trail of pleasurable sensations tingling on his skin.
He ran his fingers through her hair, moved his hands down and cupped her breasts, massaged them with his thumbs.
She rolled down his boxer shorts. She took his erection in her hand, slowly stroked him up and down. Ripples of pleasure spread through him.
"You sure you want to do this?" he said.
"Yes, I want to do this. I want to do you"
He reached out, grasped the drawer handle of the nightstand, and yanked so hard the drawer flew off the runners and crashed against the floor.
A laugh burst from Nia. "Has it been that long, sweetie?"
He chuckled, too. "It's been long enough"
"Hold on, I'll get them" She began to move from on top of him.
Summoned by the crash, King came back in the room, ears raised. Before Nia could reach the unopened box of Trojan condoms, the dog plunged his snout into the items that spilled out of the drawer, and came up with the condoms snared in his teeth.
"King!" David said. "Get back here!"
"Be a honey, King, and give those to me," Nia said.
The dog, perhaps overwhelmed by the attention and thinking it was time to play, darted out of the room, tail wagging.
Nia rolled her eyes. "Your dog is something else. I'll be back right back-after I give him a Mississippi beat-down." She pulled on her blouse and hurried out of the room.
I feel like I'm living in a movie, David thought. And whoever is directing can't decide whether he wants a horror flick, or a comedy.
His gaze happened across the drawerless slot in the nightstand. A manilla, business-size envelope lay within. A letter?
He plucked it out of the gap.
"All right, baby," Nia said. She came into the room and held up a couple of wrapped condoms. "I salvaged two before your mutt tore up the box. If you ask me, I think he's jealous."
"Bring your dog next time to keep him company," David said, absently. The mail was addressed to his father; it had his Mason's Corner address in black, typed characters. It bore a London return address and was postmarked in London, England, six years ago.
Nia sat beside him. "Where'd you get that?"
"It was in there" He pointed to the empty space. "It must've been hidden underneath the drawer."
"Hidden? That's strange"
He touched her leg. "As much as I hate to say this, I think we'll have to postpone getting our love thang on, right now. I've gotta check this out. It might be important."
"I was going to suggest the same thing, though my body's gonna need a minute to cool down. You had a sista ready."
"Not as ready as I was" He kissed her quickly. "Don't worry, I'm a fast reader"
"Hmph. Something tells me you won't be able to rush through reading it. You'd better take your time."
His palms oiled with sweat, he carefully opened the envelope.
At home, as he waited for Ruby to call and inform him that the young woman in the hospital had awakened, Franklin settled into his study and continued to research their findings at the cave.
This was, by far, the most intriguing historical research he'd
ever done. He felt that he walked along the brink of a discovery that would shatter everything he thought he knew about Dark Corner. It was both exciting and a bit frightening, too. But he was compelled to continue.
The study was his favorite room in the house. Several maple bookcases lined the walls, containing over a thousand volumes on topics such as history, politics, philosophy, and culture. He had read most of the titles on the shelves, but in recent years, he had turned increasingly to the Internet for his reading material.
His huge maple desk was the centerpiece of the study. A late-model, laptop computer sat on the desktop. It was connected to a cable modem, ensuring a speedy Web connection.
A glass of iced tea close at hand, Franklin sat in a leather chair and tapped away on the laptop. He had uploaded the digital photographs he had taken at the cave into his computer; the pictures filled the display. He examined each of them, and stopped at the image of the engraving on the wall. He enlarged the photo.
I shall rise again to slay my enemies.
He possessed only a general knowledge of Diallo. He had found more information about the man on an African history Web site. A Morehouse College student had written his master's thesis on high-ranking persons in west Africa who found themselves victims of the American slave trade, and the havoc it wreaked on their psyches.
Diallo was born in Mali in seventeen sixty-seven. For twenty-eight years, he lived as a village prince and became a feared warrior. In seventeen ninety five, Diallo was defeated in a battle, and sold to European slave traders. He was shipped from Africa to Virginia, where he was purchased by a planter named John Foster.
Diallo was a troublesome slave. Standing seven feet tall and weighing three hundred pounds, he was prone to violent rages, and struck terror in his masters. After he had been enslaved for only three years, he killed an overseer for beating afe- male slave-an act that required he be put to death. Before his punishment could be dispensed, however, John Foster took the unusual step of agreeing to sell Diallo to an anonymous buyer.
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