New Order

by Max Turner

  “I have not fed in months. Big mistake. I’m beginning to feel my age.”

  He was over twelve hundred years old. I couldn’t imagine how that felt.

  “I have come to warn you,” he began. A long pause followed as he listened. I opened my mouth to ask for an explanation, but he held up a finger to stop me. “They are searching for you, Zachariah, these agents of the New Order. I’m sure you know why. Child vampires are forbidden. Most reach Endpoint Psychosis very quickly, you know? Young carriers have done much damage to our species in the past, inciting the mob against us with their reckless behaviour.”

  I understood. The possibility of going insane was one of the reasons Ophelia had raised me in a mental ward. I’d gotten the help I needed to cope with my anger and loss. It had also kept me safe from the prying eyes of elders, who would have made short work of me.

  “And you know about the prophecies—about the hunter’s son who would be orphaned and born again, a blood drinker who will lead us to salvation or destruction. If you are the One of whom the prophecies speak, then you are a threat to anyone who seeks power.”

  “I’m harmless. And I don’t even think the prophecies are about me.”

  The long feathery tendrils of one eyebrow rose in a doubtful arc. “Really?”

  The truth was, I wasn’t sure. I think a part of me wanted the answer to be yes. Everyone wants to be special. To be a hero. And in a way, it would have made up for all that I’d lost—not just my mother and father but a chance at a normal life. On the other hand, how could a guy who couldn’t find two matching socks be qualified to lead anyone?

  “You want me to confirm that you are the One. Well, in life, are there any certainties?”

  “I guess not.”

  His head rocked back as if my answer was a personal insult. “Don’t be silly! Of course there are certainties! A mother’s love for her child, for one. Ophelia is terrified for you, and for good reason. An elder who calls himself the Changeling has declared himself the next Grand Master. The bounty on you is his doing.”

  I’d never heard of the Changeling. “What can you tell me about him?”

  “Very little. No one knows who he really is, but rumour has it that he is a wizard.”

  A wizard? That was a stretch, even for me, and I was a veteran of the World of Warcraft.

  “I don’t mean a wizard. That is not the right word.” He paused to think. “Alchemist. Yes, that is the correct translation. Sorry. English is my forty-third language. I am not as proficient as I should be.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I don’t speak it as well as I should.”

  “No, I mean that the Changeling is an alchemist.”

  “I am not saying he is. But others think so. It is the only way to explain his many talents. Like Vlad, his powers stretch the imagination. Some say he can assume any form. That he can copy anything he touches. Any person. Any animal. Any thing. And they say he is poisonous, like a serpent. That when he kills, there is no coming back. His resources appear to be limitless. For your head, he has promised enough money, deeds and titles for a person to start his own country. It is fortunate that I found you before he did.”

  The way he spoke made me wonder if he was interested in collecting the bounty himself. The thought had barely passed through my mind when he laughed. “You are not so innocent as you used to be. But do not fear Baoh. He has not stayed alive this long by taking sides.”

  “Aren’t you taking sides now?”

  His eyebrows fluttered upwards as if considering this for the first time. “Well, I hope you’re good at keeping secrets. And I hope you atone for your sins, or the Changeling’s Horsemen will kill you.”

  “Horsemen? What sins? What are you talking about?”

  “The Four Horsemen,” he said. “War, Pestilence, Famine and Death. Haven’t you read Revelation? You can’t have an Apocalypse without the Four Horsemen.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Elders. The most lethal of the Changeling’s followers. It is said that together, they are unstoppable. The only way you can save yourself is to make redress for all the wrongs you have committed. Atone, seek forgiveness, and perhaps then you will survive. Perhaps …”

  CHAPTER 6

  FAILED RESPONSIBILITIES

  I KNEW I WASN’T a perfect angel, but Baoh made it sound as though I was due to be the next celebrity guest on America’s Most Wanted.

  “What do you mean, I need to atone? For what?”

  “You broke the law when you infected your best friend. He was, what, fifteen at the time? The same night, he infected Luna. She was too young, also. But even if she’d been older, it would have been unlawful. In a family of vampires, only two generations can coexist. You cannot make another vampire while your progenitor lives or your line of infection grows too long.”

  I was a bit lost. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “As a vampire, you can make only one other vampire, and you cannot do it as long as the one who infected you is still alive. Charlie should not have turned Luna while you lived. You should not have turned Charlie while Vlad lived. Vlad should not have turned you while Ophelia lived.”

  “Wait a second,” I said. “You mean Ophelia infected Vlad?”

  “She never told you this? Perhaps she is ashamed. He was a monster in the end. Before that, however, he was a very effective Grand Master. And not a bad ballroom dancer.”

  He started talking about the pathogen and how it had to be controlled, but I missed the particulars. My mind was stuck on Vlad and Ophelia. I’d known they were husband and wife, but I’d no idea that she’d created him.

  “You’re drifting, gweilo,” Baoh said, poking my shoulder. “Pay attention. There are now four vampires in your family. Ophelia, you, Charlie and Luna. According to ancient law, this is unacceptable. The infection line cannot exceed two. You must fix this situation, quickly.”

  “How?”

  “You must put Charlie and Luna into a state of undeath. That way, you have only two vampires active in your family, you and Ophelia.”

  I was having trouble wrapping my head around the word undeath. In most vampire fiction I’d read, we were thought to be soulless creatures, cursed to remain trapped forever between this life and the next. Neither living nor dead, but undead forever. In my experience, this was a bunch of baloney.

  “What do you mean by undeath?”

  There was a flicker of movement beneath Baoh’s skin-covered orbits. He seemed surprised by the question. “Undeath is much as you would imagine it. A dreamless sleep. All of the body’s functions stop. You don’t breathe. Your heart doesn’t beat. Muscles don’t move. Nerves don’t fire. None of your senses perceive. To others, you appear dead, but you are not, because your soul will not move on to the next life nor will your body decay.”

  The word decay dislodged something from my memory. Years ago I’d read that people in the Middle Ages sometimes dug up bodies to make certain that they’d started to spoil. A rotting corpse could be safely reburied. It wasn’t going to rise from the grave. But any corpse that was found to be well preserved was assumed to be a vampire and would either be burned or staked to the inside of the coffin to keep it from wandering around.

  “Your friends will not suffer in undeath. Ophelia can help them with the process. It is quite simple.”

  I stood up. The clothes hanging in my closet forced me to hunch. “I can’t do that. I’d sooner cut off my own hands.”

  “A waste of time,” Baoh said. “They would just grow back.” He fumbled for my arm. “Listen to me. I am speaking to you as Ophelia’s friend. As your father’s friend.” He gently took hold of my wrist and pulled me back to a sitting position. “Yes. I knew your father well. He trusted me. More than once I offered him counsel, and it saved his life. Until the end, when he wouldn’t listen.”

  I reached up to my throat and my fingers settled upon the full-moon charm of my necklace. It was the last thing my father gave me bef
ore he died. There was another piece to it, a golden crescent that snapped to one side, but Luna wore that, as my mother had before her. Originally, the necklace had belonged to Vlad and Ophelia, but she had given it to my father, and he’d passed it on to me before he left to explore a temple near one of his archaeological digs. At least, that’s what I’d been told at the time. He was really hunting Vlad. When his colleagues returned to camp and told me my father had been killed, I refused to believe it and rushed off to find him. I could still remember the pile of huge square stones under which he had been crushed. I was so shocked all I could do was run. The streets were sand. The buildings in ruin. Frantic, and blind with tears, I ran until I stumbled past something dying in the shadows. Thinking it was a dog, I crept too close. Vlad crawled out and bit me above the ankle. My blood revived him. And so I unwittingly saved my father’s killer and became a vampire myself. I still had the scars. The last I would ever have, now that I was immortal.

  “I have survived for over twelve hundred years, Zachariah,” Baoh said. “I know the nature of men. Despite what the prophecy says, the Changeling and his Horsemen will never follow a boy. All you can hope for is amnesty. But you must correct this problem you’ve created. Your friends, Luna and Charlie, they must be put to rest.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t ask them to do that.”

  Baoh sighed. “If you don’t, they will most assuredly be killed. Once they are undead, you can fulfill the more difficult of your tasks. The vampire pathogen has spread out of control. Overseas, at least. Hyde did much to contain its spread here, but not so in the Old World. Failure to address this outbreak is your greatest crime, and it must be remedied.”

  Ophelia had hinted that the pathogen was spreading in some parts of Europe, but I’d never been there. “That has nothing to do with me.”

  “Nonsense,” snapped Baoh. “You toppled Vlad but assumed none of his responsibilities. Under his direction, the spread of the contagion was tightly controlled. After you destroyed him, you should have done the same. So here we are, with too many vampires, and something must be done … by you.” He tapped his finger against my chest. “Or you will have difficulty convincing anyone that you deserve leniency.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this before, when we first met? You knew what had happened with Vlad!”

  “True. But you had enough on your plate with Hyde. And frankly, I thought he was going to kill you.”

  He nearly had. “Why didn’t Ophelia ever mention this?”

  “She’s put you on a pedestal. She did the same with Vlad. It is regrettable, but it doesn’t change your obligations. You must address this problem immediately, or the Horsemen are going to kill you.”

  A nervous breath escaped my lips. If I had this right, the most lethal vampires in the world had been sent to kill me by the Grand Master, who was poisonous and could appear as anyone, at any time. No wonder Ophelia didn’t want us leaving the high-rise.

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Run,” Baoh answered. He stood. His eyeless orbits were staring at the door of the closet. “RUN!”

  “What? I thought you said I had to atone?”

  His fingers closed over my arm. They felt like talons. “The New Order—they have found us. Go! GO!”

  I looked back over my shoulder. The air in front of closet door was shimmering, like an image on fabric that someone was shaking. An instant later, it ripped open. Long white fingers reached in through the hole and tore it back. A vampire unlike any I’d ever seen stepped from the inky darkness. His arms were extremely skinny. So were his legs, which looked as though they might buckle under the weight of his bulging stomach. A roll of neck fat spilled over his frilly collar. In all other respects, he looked like a plague victim. His face and hands were swollen and covered in open sores, and his skin was as white as bone. There was a deep crimson rune on his forehead. It looked like a brand. As he moved closer, I could see past him to the rip in the dreamscape. Many sets of eyes peered from the darkness there. They were other vampires, shifting, restless and hungry.

  “It’s too late,” Baoh said. “Pestilence has found us.”

  CHAPTER 7

  TRAPPED IN A NIGHTMARE

  BAOH TOOK A deep breath and planted a hand on my sternum. Then he spoke something indecipherable, with such intensity that it was as if he were trying to force the words through a stone. I shot backwards. The walls of my closet rippled and lengthened as I flew past.

  Baoh’s eyeless orbits were still locked on me when several sets of clawed hands took hold of him from behind and pulled him into the darkness. A ghastly chorus of snapping and tearing followed. It left me alone with the vampire at the far end of the closet. Pestilence.

  The vampire raised a hand and I stopped in mid-air. It happened slowly, as though gravity were suddenly optional. I put a foot down to test the floor; the hardwood felt solid. The closet had stretched to become a long tunnel. It gave me an idea. If I could change the landscape, and get us back to the shooting range at Iron Spike Enterprises, perhaps I could turn this around. I imagined the room perfectly, right down to the tile floors and the soundproofed walls, but nothing happened. Somehow, I’d lost control of my dream.

  Pestilence laughed. It was a grotesque, raspy sound. Each of his teeth had been filed to a sharp point. They punctured his gums so that blood was crusted on the inside of his lips and covered his tongue. He raised his arms until his hands were touching the closet walls on either side. Long, thin, spider-like fingers slipped through the drywall as if it were water, sending out a ripple of warped rings. He pulled his hands back and the tunnel shortened several feet, drawing me closer.

  I started to sink. My feet were slipping into the hardwood as though it were quicksand. The floor was soon past my knees, then my thighs. I reached out, but nothing around me was solid. At the same time, Pestilence kept walking towards me, anchoring his hands in the liquid walls and pulling my section of the closet closer. He stopped when he was a few feet away, right on the edge of the puddle. I was past my waist by this time. His face started twitching again. It was covered in sores and scabs and purpled veins. None stood out so much as the rune on his forehead. I had been mistaken in thinking it was a brand. The mark had been carved into his skin. It was still raw. He smiled, then bit into a pustule on the back of his index finger, giggling as if the sight of me drowning was too hilarious to bear.

  I pumped furiously with my legs, stuck my hands into the liquid floorboards and tried to push myself away. I succeeded only in getting my arms stuck. Then, while I watched, helpless, he placed the sole of his foot on my head and pushed me under. I closed my mouth to lock the air in my chest. Pestilence’s wavy silhouette hovered above the floor like a ghost image filtered through murky water. He started snorting and chuckling again—a squeamish, sucking gargle.

  I tried to swim back to the surface, but the more I kicked and pulled the farther down I sank. The air in my lungs started losing its potency. My head buzzed—it felt as if a spider were crawling just under the base of my skull. Pestilence was digging around in my mind, searching for something. I bent my thoughts towards him and tried to push him out, but he squirmed away. The sensation was horrible, like something slithering through the soft tissues of my brain. It made my head quiver, and I nearly lost my breath. He dug further. I tried to pry him out, but it was like pinching an earthworm in my fingers. I couldn’t quite get hold. I was running out of time. Without help, I was going to drown. I needed Ophelia.

  Pestilence’s laugh intensified. Something about her must have amused him. Or perhaps it was my helplessness. As his serpentine presence kept wriggling through my head, images of Ophelia and me flashed across my mind’s eye. The two of us at the Nicholls Ward when I’d thought she was just a nurse. Later, when she confronted Vlad. Then at our home on Hunter Street before Hyde turned our world upside down. Pestilence was sifting through my memories for ones of her.

  He wanted to know how she sounded. How she looked. How she t
hought. He wanted to know how to find her on the Dream Road.

  I was already panicked. My fear of drowning was stronger than my fear of the sun, but the thought of anyone hurting Ophelia was greater still. I couldn’t let that happen.

  I imagined my skull shrinking around him like a net. There was solid resistance. I squeezed harder and pushed. Then my lungs erupted. I tried to inhale, but there was no air around me, just a fluid so thick it choked off my mouth and throat. My diaphragm bucked and my chest caught fire. Then something yanked at my arms. People were shouting.

  “… suffocating.”

  “What the …?!”

  “Help me!”

  I recognized the last voice. It was Luna’s. All I could see was her blurry shadow. Something was covering my head. I clawed at my face, but Luna pulled my hands away. Something passed through my mouth and I sucked in a painful breath. A moment later, my bedsheet passed over my head. I sat up and retched. All that came up was blood. I could hear Charlie swearing.

  “You were choking on your sheet,” Luna said. She was kneeling beside me. “It was all the way down your throat.”

  There was blood all over me. My bed was ruined. I’d ripped the mattress to pieces trying to free myself.

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t need mouth-to-mouth,” Charlie said. “That is the grossest—”

  Suki whacked his arm before he could say any more. She was standing behind him. It didn’t look as though she wanted to get any closer.

  Luna nervously rubbed the golden-crescent charm of her necklace, the one that matched the full moon that I was wearing. She let it go, then reached out and touched my face. Blood stained her hands and pyjamas. There were flecks of it on her cheeks.

  “Normally, a guy has to drink a lot of beer to get that kind of distance.”

  “Charlie, you’re not helping,” Luna said. She kept her next words private. What just happened, Zack?