by Platt, Sean
Larry raised his pistol, fired three shots through the glass, and hit both men in the head. He raced around to the back of the van, hoping like hell it wasn’t loaded with more gunmen.
He pulled on the door handle and yanked it open to an empty cargo hold.
“Fuck!” Larry yelled. John was in one of the other two vans.
He raced back to the front seat, reached over the dead agent, grabbed his radio, and took it back to his van so he could listen in the off chance they’d surrender John’s location.
The rain fell harder.
Thirty-Six
Abigail
Abigail stared at Katya, about to tell her everything when another voice bled back into her brain — the girl vampire, Talani, silent since the fire.
“You can’t tell her.”
Stay out of my head. Stop spying on me.
“She won’t understand you, Abi. Humans never understand us.”
Stop it — she’s not like the others.
“Are you all right?” Katya had been looking at her strangely, but now she was looking at Abigail with growing discomfort.
Abigail shook her head, trying to push Talani away. She’d just appeared in Abigail’s head, as if there all along, watching and listening. Waiting. It unnerved her. Abigail didn’t want people eavesdropping on her thoughts, or her life.
Get out!
“Are you okay?” Katya repeated.
“I need to tell you something,” Abigail said.
Talani’s voice spoke again, demanding, “Don’t do it.”
Abigail ignored the warning. “It’s bad.”
“What is it?” Katya stepped closer, her eyes almost haunted by concern.
“I’m a monster.”
“What?” Katya laughed like Abigail had delivered the punch line to a corny kid’s joke.
“I’m a vampire, to be precise, but not the kind from books and movies.” Abigail pushed through the words despite Talani shouting protests in her head.
Katya stared at her. The smile on her face was a stretched out shirt, awkwardly draped from its hanger. “Ha-ha, Abigail. Seriously, what do you want to tell me?”
“That’s it,” Abigail said. “I’m a vampire. And I kill through touch. Which is why I wear gloves and cover myself while around people who might accidentally touch me. That spark between us, that was it. There’s a parasite inside me. It feeds off of other people.”
Katya stepped forward, still smiling. “Don’t be silly, Abigail. You’re not a— ” she reached out to touch Abigail’s hand as if to prove her point.
No!
Abigail suddenly did something she’d never done — something she’d seen John do to Larry, but had never tried herself. Without meaning to, only from thinking it, like instinct, she shoved Katya back with a blast of energy, across the kitchen, so fast and hard that Katya’s head slammed into one of the cabinet doors with a sickening crack.
Katya cried out as Abigail fell to the kitchen floor, weak and wobbly, waiting to regain her strength.
She sat across the kitchen from Abigail, burned hand on her head, looking roughed up. Their eyes met and Katya realized she wasn’t joking.
“You were telling the truth?”
“Yes,” Abigail said softly, ashamed.
“How? How is it even possible?”
“It’s a long story,” Abigail said. “And if you didn’t believe the ending, you certainly won’t believe the beginning.”
“Try me,” Katya said.
Abigail let it all out — everything she’d been stuffing inside for a year, and before then. She told Katya about her parents dying, her uncle Frank selling her, and her abuse at the hands of Randy Webster. Katya listened intently, saying all the right things, and offering something Abigail had never had before: female support.
Crying softened pressure on Abigail’s soul.
Outside, rain pelted the windows, and with it, Abigail surrendered to more tears, shuddering with relief that there was finally someone in the world who understood her, or was at least willing to listen. She sobbed and spoke more, until she finally finished a thousand pounds lighter.
“Wow,” Katya said, sitting just two feet across from her on the floor, looking like she wanted to hug Abigail, but now knowing better. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry you’ve gone through so much.”
“You believe me, then?”
“Yes.” Katya nodded.
Abigail fell into a fresh heave. Her head throbbed, feeling like she was floating in an ocean, out of control.
“I don’t feel so good,” she said, trying to stand.
Halfway up, Abigail collapsed, hands and elbows breaking her fall with a jolt to her brain. “Call Larry,” she said in barely a whisper.
Katya stood, ran into the living room where she’d left the phone, dialing on her return to the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”
But Abigail couldn’t talk. She felt weak and empty. Her eyes closed, plunging her world into darkness. Her ears begged for scraps, every sound coming from beneath a turbulent sea.
“Larry, it’s Katya. Something’s wrong with Abigail! She’s lying on the floor, passed out! I don’t know what to do! I know about her real condition. Call me, please!”
Katya turned to Abigail. “I called him, but he didn’t answer. I left a voice mail.”
Abigail blinked her eyes back to open. Everything was a blur. She remembered John at the hotel after he’d blasted Larry, and how weak he’d become.
What was it Larry said? Oh yeah … that John was starving and when he woke, he would attack anyone or anything he saw.
Oh, no.
The hunger stirred within Abigail. The Darkness within, uncoiling, wanting to reach out for Katya.
Abigail opened her mouth and breathed, “Go.”
Katya leaned down. “What, Abi?”
Abigail felt Katya’s warmth, life beckoning like garlic frying in oil.
No, no, no, not Katya.
“Run,” she said, or thought she did. Truth was a haze as she faded in and out. Every time she opened her eyes, Katya was somewhere else in the kitchen. Every step echoed loudly, as if caroming between wide canyon walls.
Go, get out.
Talani was back.
“You must feed, Abigail, or you will die.”
No. I’m not killing her.
“You’ll die, Abigail. You don’t have much time. I can feel you weakening.”
I don’t care. No more death.
“Take her, Abigail. She’s exactly what you need. Look at her — she’s lived a happy life. Think of all the miserable people you’ve killed. How much of their pain you’ve soaked like a sponge. Feeding on her will bring you happiness.”
No! She’s my friend.
“You really think she can be friends with you? Look at her, Abigail. Look at her long and hard and tell me you don’t see fear staring back. She’ll never see you the same way after tonight. Trust me. Your friendship is over. You terrify her.”
Abigail opened her eyes, and saw Katya standing at a distance, but couldn’t see more than a blur.
“You’re going to die, Abigail. Get up now. Feed!”
No. I’m not killing her.
“She isn’t your friend. You can’t be friends with humans. They don’t understand you. They can’t understand you. Look inside her mind and you’ll see the monster that she does.”
Shut up.
Abigail tried to stand, but fell again. Katya rushed over. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
“You can’t,” Abigail tried to reply, but couldn’t open her mouth. She shook her head:
Put the phone down.
If an ambulance came, she was dead. Abigail wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. They’d discover what she was, she’d be found by Omega, or she’d be passed out in a hospital bed when the morning sun rose and she burst into flames.
No, no.
“You can’t call!” Abigail cried out to Katya’s back. She was either ignoring Abigail or d
idn’t hear her. Maybe she wasn’t in the room. It was so hard to know up from down through the fog.
Katya blurred in and out of focus, long enough for Abigail to see her finish dialing and put the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” Katya said.
No!
Abigail sent another burst from her body. The phone flew from Katya’s hand and crashed to the floor. She heard it shatter across the tile.
Katya screamed, and in that scream, Abigail heard it — the fear Talani warned of.
“She’s afraid of you. How can she be friends with you when she’ll always think you’re going to kill her?”
I’m not going to kill her.
“I have an idea, Abigail ... ”
The voice held its pause, then:
“You don’t have to kill her. There is another way.”
Abigail was silent, waiting for more.
“You can partially feed from her, then turn her. You can save your life, and turn her into one of us. Then you two could be friends forever, if you wanted.”
Abigail smiled, or thought she did. It was so hard to tell.
She loved that idea. Abigail thought of Katya playing her pretty song again. Maybe she could even teach her to play guitar.
What if Katya doesn’t want to be turned? Who am I to decide?
“Who wouldn’t want immortality? She’ll thank you. Trust me. You know I’m right.”
I don’t know how to do it.
“I’ll show you, Abigail. Just get up and go to her before it’s too late.”
Abigail lifted her head, opened her eyes, so heavy, and saw Katya standing over her, looking down.
Their eyes met.
“Do it, Abi. Now!”
Abigail reached out, catching Katya’s hand as she tried pulling away. Their eyes locked.
Energy coursed through Abigail, along with a flood of happy memories—
Katya’s childhood spent with her doting father; a puppy she once had named Laika, after the first dog Russia sent into space, a dog which had sadly died; and dozens more memories, all like warm sunshine melting chocolate through her body.
Abigail tried to find Talani’s voice in the current.
Help me turn her.
Talani was silent.
Oh God. Help me, Talani!
Nothing.
Oh no, no, no!
Abigail tried to break the current, but it was too late. She was riding it, high, drowning in the girl’s energy and memories.
Katya was small, fresh from Ukraine. No friends in America, yet, so her father helped her meet some at Embassy Park, swinging and playing until they nudged their play into a circle of children.
Katya was 12 and self-conscious, smaller than her peers. Then, from nowhere, she was 14 and several inches longer, from too few to too many, again as awkward as when she couldn’t get English to stick on her tongue. But still, she made friends with a girl named Rosa. They were good friends and spent a lot of time together. Sleepovers, going to the mall, and a hundred other things that normal girls did, which Abigail would never know.
Then Abigail was forced to stare into the worst memory, seeing how much Katya had cared for her, pacing her carpet for hours when she left Abigail with Larry after they returned from the restaurant, then lying in bed for several more, flipping her body like a pancake on the mattress, over and over. Something in Katya loved the little girl who seemed so beautifully big inside.
Abigail fell away, the ride finally finished. Then she opened her eyes and saw Katya’s ashen flesh, eyes open and sockets charred. Nothing left of her only friend.
She stared, lips trembling.
Oh God, what have I done?
Abigail screamed.
Thirty-Seven
Larry
Larry drove for a half hour before he thought to check his phone. He brought the screen into view, saw the red number on the green icon, then tapped it and listened to Katya’s voicemail.
I hope nothing’s wrong.
The pit in his stomach, deep and brimmed with acid said otherwise.
Larry played the message.
“Larry, it’s Katya. Something’s wrong with Abigail! She’s lying on the floor, passed out! I don’t know what to do! I know about her real condition. Call me, please!”
Oh shit. Abi!
Larry spun the van in the middle of the street, nearly wrecking it, and raced back to Katya’s.
Larry was relieved to see Katya’s car in the parking lot, and tried to convince himself that it was a good sign. If an ambulance had taken Abigail away, Katya probably would’ve followed along.
Unless they let her go in the ambulance with her — she is a kid, and Katya might insist. Say she’s family.
Larry hated how his mind always found a negative response to every what-if.
Relax, everything is fine. Do you see any signs that something shitty went down?
The apartment complex was quiet. The night air was cool, and the rain had stopped. There were no sirens or police laying tape.
Larry parked in a handicapped spot and raced from the van, up the stairs to the second floor of Katya’s four story building.
He knocked on her door.
It was late, but he figured Abigail would be awake — if she’s OK.
Stop thinking negatively.
The pit in Larry’s stomach tightened as his knock went unanswered.
He pounded against the door, harder and louder.
No response.
He tried the doorknob, but it was locked.
Larry pulled a Starbucks plastic gift card from his wallet, slid it between the door and doorjamb, then bent the card and forced the lock back as he pressed his weight against the wood.
The door popped open to a darkened room.
Larry turned on the light and wished he hadn’t.
Oh God.
Katya’s body was a withered husk.
No, no, no, what happened?
“Abi!”
No response.
Shit.
Larry called her name again and again as he ran through the house.
But Abigail was gone.
Thirty-Eight
Jacob
Jacob sat cross-legged at the top of a wooded hill, alone beneath a fat moon, staring down at Duncan Alderman’s house as it was swallowed by flames in the distance. Walls of brilliant orange curled against the bright white wood — a stark contrast against the pitch black behind it, and all the dancing stars above.
Soon, the world would burn in a million fires.
His kind would claim Earth as its own, and its people as the livestock they were. Some would be spared — those deemed worthy of evolution to join his race, the Valkoer. But most on Earth were unworthy of the honor — ignorant, petty, violent, tiny-minded creatures who sickened Jacob to his core. They who would be cast to the ghettos, and serve as cattle for the elite as nature intended.
Why the Pioneers, who came to this godforsaken world so long ago, decided to spare the humans their appropriate fate, was beyond Jacob’s understanding. He had considered inviting the Pioneers to join him, but decided not to upon further reflection. They deserved to be shackled to the humans’ fate.
They had been weakened by their time on the planet, growing fond of the humans and foolishly thinking them worthy. Eventually they were weakened for their efforts. Perhaps they devolved from Humkoer to human. Jacob would be making no such mistakes. For him, it was about evolution of the species, and himself above all.
It was nearly time. He had two of the five crystals — three more would grant him the Last Great Wizard’s power. Then, the walls would crumble, and Earth would be ripe for the plucking.
Jacob’s mouth curled into a smile, lighting his face as he watched waves of flame devour Duncan’s grand estate, a monument to misplaced arrogance. Duncan and his Guardians were trying to stop nature, not unlike how their Otherworld counterparts, the Humkoer, the ruling class who had tried to eradicate the Valkoer. On his home world, his ki
nd were at a disadvantage. Here, Jacob’s people were top of the food chain.
Humans couldn’t imagine what was coming.
Jacob couldn’t wait to prove his father’s trust in him, to present him with the greatest gift a son could ever offer: a world for the taking, an opportunity for the King to lead his people into a new era where they were the superiors, free from the Humkoers’ persecution and forcing his kind to live in a walled city.
Jacob smiled wider.
He held the crystals in a black velvet pouch, and could feel their vibration intensifying. Jacob turned to Mr. Dark as the man appeared behind him on the hill holding a similar pouch. “Sir, Elim has returned with three of the crystals.”
“Ah,” Jacob said smiling. He stood from his spot in the grass.
Mr. Dark handed the pouch to Jacob, who opened it and looked inside. These crystals, like the others, were glowing bright red. They were vibrating too, as if sensing their brothers. Perhaps they did. If the crystals contained the soul of a powerful wizard, wouldn’t they be sentient?
Jacob looked up at the thief standing a good distance from Mr. Dark, and nodded a thank you.
“Pay him,” Jacob said, and returned to his seat in the grass.
The crystals hummed, lightly shaking in their pouches. Jacob opened one of the bags to look inside and was surprised when the crystals hopped out from the bag and hung suspended, hovering in the air as if held by tiny filaments. He opened the bag and watched the other three crystals fly out to join the others in midair, five crystals in squared formation, with one floating in the center.
They glowed brighter and brighter. Then, to Jacob’s surprise, moved closer to one another. He thought about stopping the movement, but then thought better.
Who am I to interfere with nature?
The crystals shifted into place like a puzzle piecing itself together, brightening as the individuals fused into a single glowing crimson sphere: an almost perfect circle, save for the missing piece.
The sphere hummed, a vibration so low you could barely hear it, though it thrummed in the depths of Jacob’s soul.
