The Hollow Church

by Amy Cross

  Eventually, after what feels like several days, I'm yanked out of my mind and I find myself back on the cold concrete floor, being lifted up once again. I look over and see that the girl who died is now just a rotten pile of bones, so I guess I must have been unconscious for quite a while. As the fangs slip once more into my neck, I realize I'm locked into a cycle of endless pain. There's nothing to do but scream, even though no sounds come out of my mouth. Eventually, I manage to let out the faintest gurgle, but it's not enough and the pain builds and builds until it explodes in my mind, shattering my thoughts and ripping my body to shreds. The last thing I feel is the sensation of someone holding my hand.

  Abby Hart

  All I can do is watch as the last of her consciousness burns to dust.

  She's gone.

  Opening my eyes, I find that I'm back in the hospital room. Having experienced Clare's memories for a few minutes, I'm still filled with her thoughts and her sensations, but the girl herself is gone. Looking down at her body, I see her eyes staring straight up at the ceiling. There's a feeling of intense stillness in the room, as if Death himself has recently passed this way and hooked Clare's soul. I can still just about hear her screaming, but of course that's nothing more than an echo. As I stare ahead in the darkness, I see a thin black strand burning above the bed for just a fraction of a second, before it's gone and the room becomes completely still.

  Sighing, I let go of Clare's hand.

  "Abby?"

  I look over at Detective Gregory. He's standing by the door, almost as if he's afraid to come too close. I don't know what he saw while I was in Clare's mind, but he seems cautious.

  "She's dead," I say, although I immediately regret speaking. My voice sounds weak and frail, and I suddenly realize that I'm trembling. The last thing I can afford to do right now is show weakness, especially in front of a human.

  "I figured," he replies. "At least she's not suffering." He pauses. "Did you get anything?"

  I reach out and place a hand on Clare's arm. She feels so cold and calm. I'm always amazed by the touch of a dead human. Their souls empty out so quickly, leaving behind nothing more than a body of flesh and bone. There's something tender but defiant about them, and although I recognize them as being pathetic creatures, I can't deny that they must be strong to live such fragile lives. A vampire's soul is a powerful thing, and by contrast a human's soul is like gossamer. Still, humans don't make it easy for themselves: they never live within their limits, always pushing and trying to go higher. They're like moths, drawn to a blinding light that'll kill them if they get too close.

  "I saw a face," I say eventually. "I saw the face of one of the..." I pause, realizing I need to be careful about how I explain all of this. The last thing I want to do is start talking about the Strix and explaining where they come from. "I saw a face."

  "You know who did this?"

  I nod.

  "I'm going to need a full description," he continues. "We have a database -"

  "No," I say firmly. "None of your databases are going to cover this kind of thing. It's not like that."

  He pauses. "What's it like?"

  "I can't explain," I say, still seeing that creature's face in my mind. "You'd never understand."

  "Try me."

  I shake my head.

  "Was it another of those things from the parking lot?" he asks.

  I stare at him, still trying to work out how much I should tell him.

  "It was, wasn't it?"

  "They're draining the blood directly," I explain. "The toxin is a substance they introduce to the bodies in order to maximize the blood yield. The idea is to get two or three times the normal amount of blood from a single human. Of course, there are consequences. The bodies focus purely on blood production, and most of the organs start to die. Imagine having three times as much blood inside your body. Imagine being left bloated and dying on the floor until some creature comes to drain it all out of you, and then you're left to build up more and more blood until the next time you're drained."

  "No-one could survive that level of trauma," he replies.

  "Their hearts would have given out eventually," I tell him. "They don't care, though. Long-term, they know they can just get more and more victims. There are so many discarded humans on the streets of this city. Humans are all worthless, but some are more worthless than others. The Strix know that, and they've been careful."

  "Strix?" he replies. "What's a Strix?"

  "You don't need to know."

  "Two hundred people are dead, and you don't think I need to know who did it?"

  I shake my head. "You wouldn't understand."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence." He waits for me to continue. "Why are they doing this?" he asks eventually. "What could they possibly want with all this blood?"

  "Strength," I say, getting to my feet and immediately feeling a little light-headed. I can still sense Clare's pain coursing through my body, as if I actually lived through those memories. It's something of a miracle that she was able to survive for as long as she did, since I never thought humans were capable of staying so strong in the face of pain and pressure. I've no idea how she managed to withstand all that suffering, but I guess she was just unlucky. There's no way a human could be so strong. "This isn't about survival," I add. "The Strix want something, and they need blood to get it."

  "Like an offering?"

  "Like..." I pause. "Have you ever taken a dead, dry flower and put it in water?" I ask after a moment. "Have you watched as it almost seems to come back to life? That's what they're doing, except they're using blood, and it's not a flower. It's a body. And it was never dead to begin with. Not really." I take a deep breath, trying to make sure that I don't collapse. "They're bringing something back to life. That's the only explanation. And with the amount of blood they need, it must be something old."

  "How old?"

  "Older than you can imagine."

  "And who are they?" he asks.

  "You don't need to know."

  "You keep saying that," he replies, sounding annoyed, "but I do need to know. I need to deal with this."

  "You can't help," I say firmly, walking carefully around the bed. Damn it, I still feel weak. "Believe me," I continue, "there's nothing I'd like more than to tell you to go sort this out, but it's beyond anything you can even imagine. It's better if you just let..." I pause. Do I really want this responsibility? My father used to go around fixing other people's problems, and it's not like he ever got any thanks. If I interfere in this mess, I'll just end up exposing myself to more danger. I could walk away and let everything go to hell here. Then again, I need to make sure that humans don't become aware of vampires. The last thing this world needs is another war. "It's better if you just let me take care of it," I say eventually. "I'll find them. I'll kill them all."

  "I can't let you do that," he replies. "We need to bring in teams to deal with these people. Whoever they are, we need to locate them and we need to capture them alive. I can't just let you go off and try to sort this out by yourself."

  "You don't understand what you're dealing with."

  "Then tell me."

  "Why can't you just let me fix it?" I ask, trying to hide my frustration. "What's so difficult? All you have to do is stand right where you are and watch me walk out of here. Then you have to wait, and after a few hours it'll be resolved." I pause, hoping against hope that he won't be stubborn. "I know what these things are," I add eventually. "I know what I need to do, and I'll do it. I'll give you a call when it's all done, to let you know. We can meet and have a nice, cozy little drink and I'll tell you all the gruesome details, but I can't let you or anyone else come with me."

  "It's that church, isn't it?" he continues. "We have to go and -"

  "It's nothing to do with the church," I reply, keen to make sure he doesn't start interfering. I need to fix this alone. "The church was a false lead," I add. "We need to keep looking. Rather, I need to keep looking."

  "You'
re strong enough to do this alone?" he asks, sounding skeptical.

  "I'm glad you've finally got the message," I say, walking toward the door. After a moment, however, my legs give out and I fall to the floor, feeling a flash of pain in my chest. I guess I underestimated the effect of delving through that girl's memories.

  "Forgive me for doubting you," Mark says, helping me up and leading me over to a chair in the corner, "but you don't look particularly strong right now."

  "That's just residual," I tell him as I sit down. "I experienced everything Clare experienced, but in one short burst. Maybe it was a little more powerful than I anticipated, but I just need to wait a few minutes and then I'll be fine."

  "You look pale," he replies. "I'm going to get a nurse."

  "No," I say, grabbing his wrist to keep him from leaving the room. "I'll be fine," I say, even though I still feel weak. "Just stop trying to interfere. Why do humans always think that they've got a right to stick their nose in other people's business? This is nothing to do with you!"

  "What's wrong?" he asks. "Scared they might poke around and realize there's something not quite right about you?" He stares at me for a moment. "It's time for you to level with me, Abby. I don't know what's going on here, but it's something that's already claimed a lot of lives. There are already people coming up from Washington to take over the investigation, so if you think this is something you can just tuck away and deal with yourself, you're wrong. You need to start letting me in on this thing, and the first step is to tell me what you are."

  I shake my head.

  "You don't have a choice," he replies.

  "Don't I?" I ask, unable to stifle a smile. "Do you really think you can force me to do anything?"

  He tries to pull free from my grip. For a moment, I'm able to keep him in place, but finally he gets loose. I guess I'm still weak from my experience inside Clare Stamler's mind.

  "What are you?" he asks again.

  "I'm nothing," I tell him.

  "I won't let you leave this room until you give me an answer."

  "What do you think I am?" I ask. "Every time you ask me these questions, I feel as if you already know the answer but you're too scared to say it. So why don't you tell me what you think?"

  He stares at me.

  "Say the word," I continue, even though I know I'll have to kill him if he's managed to guess the truth. I'll have to rip his heart out right here in the hospital.

  "I'm not sure," he replies.

  "Aren't you?"

  "You saved my life," he continues. "I don't know exactly what happened in that parking lot, but there was no way I could have fought those things off. And then you came along and just seemed to flick them away without even breaking into a sweat. I don't care how many self-defense classes you've taken, Dr. Hart... That was more than a little impressive, and I'm sure you'll understand that I've got a few suspicions." He pauses. "I'm a pretty straightforward guy and I like to believe that there's a simple explanation for everything. Right now, I'm looking for a simple explanation for you, and I'm not coming up with anything."

  "Maybe you're just a bit dim," I reply.

  "Whatever you are," he says firmly, "it's linked to these bodies, isn't it?" He stares at me for a moment. "Are you one of them? Are you, like, one that went rogue and became good?"

  "You think I'm good?" I ask, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

  "You don't go around murdering innocent people."

  "Don't I?" I pause. "I'm not giving you a choice here," I continue eventually, slowly getting to my feet and starting to make my way to the door. "Here's what's going to happen, Detective Gregory. I'm going to walk out of here, and you're not going to follow me. Then you're going to spend the next day filling in forms and having meetings and trying to come up with a strategy, and then I'm going to let you know that it's all been taken care of. You understand? You'll never have to know the truth. All that matters, from your perspective, is that this is going to be fixed. Does it -" Before I can finish, I feel a sharp pain in my left side, and I drop to the floor again.

  "You're sick," he says, rushing over to me.

  "No," I mutter, but it's too late. All the pain and misery that I experienced in Clare's mind has clearly been too much for me. I need more time to recover, but I can't afford to show weakness in front of this human. I try to get to the door, but instead I collapse completely. None of this makes sense. How can the emotions and fears of a mere human have such a profound effect on me? After all, I'm a thousand times stronger than any human, so I should be able to just take things in my stride. Instead, I start to lose consciousness as the pain gets worse and worse.

  Mark Gregory

  "There," says Dr. Lawrence, as we stand next to the bed of yet another young victim. "That's the last one." He starts jotting some notes down on a clipboard. "Time of death is precisely 10pm, cause is most likely heart failure and loss of blood, same as all the others."

  I watch as the nurse starts disconnecting a series of monitors. Less than twenty-four hours ago, we brought forty-one victims to the hospital, and now the last has died. Right from the start, it was clear that none of them had a chance, but I guess I couldn't stop hoping that maybe, somehow, one of them might pull through. Each of the bodies looked so pale and thin, as if they've been ravaged by their tormentors. The worst part is that whenever I look at them, I can't help wondering if there are more out there, shackled and chained in agony. If there are more, we're no closer to finding them. Frankly, I feel as if I'm at a dead end.

  "Have you informed the families?" Dr. Lawrence asks.

  "We don't have any identities yet," I reply. "These kids didn't exactly carry wallets with them. We'll match most of them to a name eventually, but I guess some'll just end up in unmarked graves."

  "And you're no closer to catching whoever did this?"

  "We're closer," I tell him, unwilling to admit that the case is going nowhere. "Not close, but definitely closer. I was hoping to get some decent leads before the guys from Washington turn up, but I guess that's not going to happen. We're going to catch these people, though. I don't know how yet, but we are going to find them."

  "Before the next batch of bodies?" he asks, clearly without much hope.

  "We're working on some ideas," I tell him, even though I know he can probably see through my defensive bullshit. Then again, how can I tell him that my only possible lead concerns a woman who does a very good impression of being a vampire?

  "I should warn you," he says, "there's some media interest. I can't guarantee that no-one in this hospital will talk to the press. I know you've worked to keep this story out of the papers, but I don't think you're going to have much more luck in that department. This stuff is gonna be all over the news by tomorrow."

  Sighing, I watch as the nurse removes a drip from the patient's arm. Despite all the efforts that were made to keep these people alive, medical science was unable to save them from a slow and painful death. With the combined total from the two batches of bodies now reaching more than two hundred, it's clear that we're running out of time. Whoever's behind this, they seem brazen in their willingness to let us find the corpses of their victims. While I'd like to think that they're being careless, I can't shake the more worrying conclusion that they just don't care; as far as these monsters are concerned, there's nothing we can do to stop them, so they don't give a damn whether or not we're onto them. Their end game, whatever it might be, is in sight.

  "Detective Gregory?" asks a voice from nearby.

  Turning, I see a man standing in the doorway. I don't know whether it's the dark suit or the sunglasses, but something about him makes me realize immediately that the team from Washington has arrived. Excusing myself from Dr. Lawrence, I make my way over to join this new arrival, whose face betrays no hint of emotion. If he's trying to intimidate me, it's working.

  "You've got a mess here," he says flatly.

  "I've been expecting someone to come and help out," I tell him, figuring I should at least p
retend to be grateful that back-up has finally arrived. In truth, I feel as if the case is getting away from me, and even though I'm determined to make a breakthrough, I know that I probably won't be given a chance.

  "We're not here to help out," he says. "We're here to take control of a chaotic situation. I'm Agent Elba, I'm here with some colleagues who are going to get to the bottom of this mess." As he speaks, a couple more federal agents walk past the room, and it's clear that the hospital is now crawling with a new team from Washington. "Amateur hour's over," he continues. "I'm sure you've done your best, but people are dying."

  "We're working on several -"

  "You're not working on anything," he replies. "You've got two hundred bodies and zero answers. I don't care if the victims were all just a bunch of drug addicts, they're still stacking up and I don't see any end in sight. I've got orders to assume complete control of this investigation, which means you're back on traffic duty or whatever else you do with your time."

  "This is my case," I tell him, even though I know I'm fighting a losing battle.

  "Not anymore. It's a federal matter. I appreciate your efforts, Mr. Gregory, but this situation is clearly above your pay-grade and your abilities. I've already had all the relevant files transferred to our systems, and we have a lead regarding a group in New Jersey."

  "New Jersey?"

  "There's a cult we've been keeping an eye on," he continues. "We're not sure of their objectives, but we believe it's very much a possibility that they could be involved in this." He glances past me and stares for a moment at the dead body on the bed. "Is this the most recent death?" he asks. "Bag this one up. I want to have it taken to Virginia so we can perform a full autopsy. No offense, but I'd rather have my own men take a look. The labs in New York aren't equipped to deal with this kind of incident."