by Jamie Ott
After a few hours, they'd cleaned out the rest of the drinks, snacks, magazines, first aid, cleaning supplies and medicine aisles. In the back, the boys found a few dozen pounds of still frozen meat and ice cream.
By the time they'd finished cleaning out the grocer, there was barely room for them all in the van. In Target, Starr sat at the camping section, reading about how to tie luggage to the car as the kids pulled the last bits of clothing and toiletry from the shelves.
Just when Starr was ready to go home, Lucas said, "Let's check out the library."
The library wasn't hard to find, either. At the end of the strip, it was a brick building that looked like a church.
Inside, they found books, discs, and movies. Danny wandered over to the computer and exclaimed, "Wow, the internet still works!"
They gathered around and took turns checking their emails while Starr watched the van through the glass door.
A few moments later, Misaki walked up behind her and said, "My aunt, Bi, has come from China. She wants to see me."
They made it back to Lake George just after nightfall.
"What?" asked Becky, setting her fork down. "You want to go to the city?"
"How did your aunt manage a trip, given the state of the world?" asked Shane. "All the airports on the East Coast have been shut down for months."
"Maybe she got here before the vampires attacked."
"Then why didn't she contact you before?"
"I don't know," Misaki said thoughtfully, looking down at her plate. "Would you take me?" she looked Starr.
"Don't!" said Shane, looking at Starr, too. "It's way too dangerous."
"I agree," said Starr. "You don't understand. The military is there, and they don't want any of us, vampires, to survive. We were supposed to be helping each other, and they blew up our hotel instead. We almost didn't make it out in time."
"Fine, but I'm going. I have to."
"Why?" asked Misty hotly, her face a shade of puce.
"Because she saved my life. Back in China, I would've starved to death, if not for her. I was an illegitimate half Chinese-half Japanese child in a tiny farm town. She took me in when I was sick from the chicken pox, and we didn't get vaccinations like you guys did when you were babies."
"Can't you just call her?" asked Mot.
"She didn't send a number."
"So email her. We'll go back to town tomorrow," said Starr.
"Look, I want to go. It's just different for me than it is for you. Yes, you've all lost your family, too, but you haven't lost your culture. You haven't lost your home, not really anyway. Mot you know what I mean?"
"Actually, I agree with them. You should stay here," he said strongly.
"We're finally all here, safe, even Starr. Now you're gonna go out and risk your life? I don't like it!" said Misty, and she got up from the table and left.
She sighed and said, "I have to go. She's the closest thing I ever had to a mother."
Old Stomping Grounds
Chapter 3
The next morning, Starr and Misaki packed small bags and took off in the little Mercedes. She would have let her go alone, if not for the others who urged her. There were plenty of leftover ATVs around Lake George, and, the way she saw it, Misaki was old enough to make her own decisions. If she wanted to risk her neck, then so be it.
It occurred to Starr that a visit to the city might be a good thing though. Maybe she could find a quicker, easier way to translate the grimoire? What better place to try than the New York Metropolitan Library?
Transcribing was such a laborious process. Sometimes it would take her up to thirty minutes just to figure a single sentence.
During the first hour of the trip, Starr said nothing to Misaki. Instead, she replayed the conversation she'd had with Shane, before she went to bed. She warned her that Misaki was definitely hiding things, and that to go to the city might be trouble.
Finally, Starr asked, "Is your aunt in some sort of trouble? And don't lie to me. I'll know if you do."
She remained silent, for a moment, but then said, "I don't know."
Not a single car passed them on the motorway; it was just as dead as last time, except someone had pushed all the cars, from the middle of the road, off to the side.
They didn't reach the city until about three p.m.
As they rode down Broadway, Starr looked into as many buildings as she could.
"Is anybody here?"
"Not that I can tell. Every place seems to be empty."
They parked a few blocks down from the China Town neighborhood; right around 57th.
"Do you know where we're going?" asked Starr.
"No, not exactly."
At first, she followed Misaki down the empty block, and then they turned onto a street with many signs written in Chinese. It was dead silent: not a vamp or human anywhere.
After a few blocks on which they found nothing, Starr paused in front of a narrow alley.
At the far end was a nondescript black door in a red brick building.
"What is it, Starr?"
"There are many people in that building, there. I'm trying to see if we should check it out."
But just as she finished her sentence, the door opened and a man in a black cap waved to them.
"Xue!" she exclaimed.
Misaki ran to him as he stood back and held the door open.
"No," the man said, eyeing Starr. "She can't come in. No strangers here."
"She's not a stranger; she's my friend."
When the man insisted, Starr said, "It's alright. Go ahead. I'll wait."
Starr watched them disappear through the door. She slid her back down the brick wall and sighed.
~~~
The moon was shining; night had fallen. For hours, Starr kept herself busy by wandering in and out of stores, gathering useful supplies. After stopping by a butcher for a raw blood casing, she walked back to the little alley.
She banged on the door.
When after fifteen minutes, no one appeared, she banged again.
Just as she was about to break down the door, it finally opened. A little woman in a white tunic appeared.
"Misaki's staying. You go home, now."
"Uh, Lady, I'm not going anywhere unless Misaki tells me to."
"One moment," she closed the door.
A minute later, the man named Xue appeared, yelling at her in Chinese.
Starr lost her patience.
She yanked the man through the door, making him stumble into the opposite wall, smashing his head into the bricks and falling to the ground. Quickly, she caught the door before it closed.
Inside was dim, but not for her dead eyes. It was the waiting room of what looked like a warehouse.
Down a hall to her left, a light shone. She went toward it, and turned right into another hallway.
Above her head, there were a dozen offices. People were using them as living quarters.
She smelled spicy food cooking and cigarette smoke. At the end of the hall, she made another right and found herself in the center of a large production room that'd been turned into a dining area and bar.
From above, bright fluorescent lights glared down. To her right, three men sat on stools drinking and smoking as they watched a movie on a raised television.
To her left, three women were tossing vegetables and noodles on an enormous greased butane stove and grill. A mound of freshly killed, unplucked chickens lay on a counter, next to them.
Right behind the women, a garage door, large enough to drive a semi through, opened onto a concrete patio where a bunch of people sat and talked around various tables.
The men on the stool stood up and made to grab her, but she walked, fast, onto the patio.
"Misaki!" she said angrily.
"Starr!"
From behind her came the clocking of a shot gun.
Starr froze on the spot. Guns couldn't kill her, but they slowed her down; that and they hurt like hell.
&n
bsp; "NO!" shouted Misaki.
She remained silent and still as they exchange words in Chinese. Something about her needing to leave or they'd kill her.
Starr didn't speak the language, but vampires could sometimes sense what speakers, of other languages, were saying.
"Please don't hurt them?" asked Misaki.
"Well, what do you want me to do? He's got a gun to my back?" Starr shouted. "Tell him if he doesn't move it, now, I'm gonna shove it up his ass!"
"Look, just give me a day, okay? Come back tomorrow and we'll go home. I just want to spend some time with my family."
A low growl issued from her stomach, uncontrollably. Judging by the screams of the ladies, Starr's inner demon had come out; something that happened when vampires got extremely angry. Their fangs would extend and their eyes would change.
"They aren't your family, Misaki!"
From behind, one of the men said, "Shoot her," in Chinese.
"No," shouted Misaki. "Let me talk to her."
They agreed.
"Just let me have some time. I need this! Please?"
"FINE!" she said a little more loudly than she meant to. The power behind her irritated voice made the lights and windows vibrate, scaring the men and women once more.
Ignoring their panicked chatter, she said, "I will be back for you tomorrow morning! When I return, if you're not ready to leave, I'll drag you out."
Misaki's face was distorted and her eyes were glassed over. She looked surprised that Starr could be so angry.
But the fact is Starr was livid. How could she stay with people who treated her so badly? And who wouldn't think twice to kill her? Culture or no, she and Misaki were supposed to be tight. Her behavior was a betrayal to their friendship.
Slowly, Starr raised her hands, as if to communicate that she wasn't dangerous. Then she whipped around, grabbed the man's gun by the barrel, and pushed the butt into his face, knocking him out.
Misaki screamed.
His two buddies were about to strike, but they were too slow for Starr. She pulled back both arms, closed her hands into fists, and re extended them, simultaneously, breaking their noses.
The ladies screamed and shouted at her back.
Ignoring them, she walked over to the pile of dead hens and picked the two fattest ones and walked out.
Ferociously, Starr drained the chickens of blood as she pounded the pavement back to the little Mercedes and got her overnight bag.
For a moment, she contemplated leaving Misaki behind, but then she imagined the looks on the kids' faces. They would never forgive her.
So, instead, she decided to go to the New York Metropolitan Library. She could spend the night in translation, get Misaki in the morning and go.
A Mercedes driving across the dead city at night might attract unseen attention, she thought. People became braver after dark, so she ditched the car in an alley, a few blocks up, and obscured it from sight by moving a dumpster in front of it.
As she walked the mile or so across town, she was astonished. Never, not even after the vampires attacked, had Starr seen the city so lifeless. There wasn't a single living person anywhere, and all the dead bodies were gone.
The army did a good job of cleaning up the streets.
From a few blocks away, she saw strange green blockades in front of the library. As she got closer, she realized they were at every entrance.
Judging by the greenish brown color, it was easy to assume that it was the work of the army, too.
When she got to the library, she secured her bag over her neck and shoulder, and then proceeded to climb the wall.
On the gravel roof, there was a door. She turned the knob with just enough pressure to break the lock.
Inside, there was dim light coming from the LEDs in the floor. A strong aroma, like that of an antique shop, overwhelmed her senses.
To both sides of the room were a number of items: books, portraits, furniture, vases and other antiques.
She walked across the room and found herself in a short hallway. At the end, to her right, was a door to a stairwell.
Unsure of where to start, she went down to the first floor and looked about for maps.
Behind the large checkout counter, near the entrance of the library, she found a laminated employees map that detailed storage rooms on the upper floors, offices in the middle, and show rooms and the actual library on the lower floors.
Finding there was an employee snack room in the middle, she went back up the stairs.
In the snack room, there was a sink to her right, and two vending machines to her left.
She set her bag on the brown table in the middle of the dim room and pulled out her little butane grill, pan and hunting knife.
After gently breaking a soda out of one of the machines, she proceeded to gutting and plucking her chickens over the sink. When they were clean, she set up her little butane grill, heated some olive oil she'd brought, and threw chunks of the meat into the pan.
When she'd finished her meal, she grabbed another soda from the broken machine and headed down to the first floor again.
First, she decided to check the library's intranet. Surely it would have information on how to quickly transcribe? Maybe even have a special software to do it for her?
But the power was out.
She searched, frantically, for light switches; then she got an idea.
At the checkout desk, there was the scent of at least a hundred different people, but there was one that was most consistent.
A library clerk?
She followed the scent to every spot in the building. Lucky guess, she thought, as she found herself at a small wall switch board behind the staff hall.
Moments later, she was querying Latin translations. Fortunately, there were dozens of books that could speed up her work, but she didn't find any software.
Then it occurred to her that some computers might only have a certain amount of access. Surely, the visitor's computers wouldn't have special translation software.
She ran back to the checkout desk, but when she searched its computer, she found nothing. Pulling the little employees map towards her, she noticed there was an office on the upper floor that was right past the room with the antiques.
She ran back up the stairs, exited the stairwell and ran past the antiques to the opposite end of the hall.
There, she found an office with a large copy machine and several computers.
Whoever worked there was responsible for restorations, for the smell of chemicals and glues heavily saturated the air. On the bookcases that covered the walls of the room lay translation books and rows of cans and jars; all containing various chemicals. In one corner of the room lay boxes of tissues, gloves and cotton swabs and balls.
Starr sighed with relief as she sat at the biggest computer in the room. Within moments, she'd found what she was looking for.
Immediately, she started scanning pages of the grimoire into the computer.
But the software wasn't precise, and neither were her scans. The pages of the small book got distorted, as she tried to flatten it as much as possible against the glass. As a result, she wound up scanning passages, repeatedly.
She wasted many minutes trying to cipher dozens of especially old and faded pages that the scanner couldn't read.
It wasn't until nearly dawn that Starr managed to get the last bits of the book transcribed and printed into a neatly stapled stack of paper.
She sat down in the employee snack room and read until the sun came up. On the tenth page, there was a personal note addressed to someone, but the name had been blacked out by marker.
Page 10
To XXXXXXXX
'The content of this grimoire is for viewing only. To practice any of these teachings is to risk not only one's life, but one's soul. Take caution when dealing with nekros, for they are treacherous. Beware that every deal comes with a costly price.
Page 11
This book is the pro
perty of Lyssa.
For Loray: My faith will keep us alive.
To Sargatanus: My sun will always rise in the ninth house.
Page 12
The Pact - Entry
Just like a catholic and a patron saint, the necromancer has a patron spirit. Similar to the Chinese and their shens, the spirits can be a guide, but can also be an emblem of brutal vengeance. More often than not, these are the truest "evil" and, as I've learned on my journey, there is a flipside to all that is light. What most consider evil can be wielded in almost the same way as what most consider good. There are many teachings of the power of light, but there is a power of dark, and its "evil" may be subjugated. The path of the left is but another way of life; it does not ruin, change or kill spirit. It is karma that comes, eventually.
Evil is not evil; it's just another way.
The pact, like any other, can lead to bad, good, enemies, death, even. Imperatively, no matter with whom a deal be made, a person must not use the spirit advantageously, if they don't wish to risk their mortal life. In most cases, I'd agree, but this is not for the weak; this is for the determined. There is ultimate power in supreme purity, and there is ultimate strength in the bits of our souls: here, now, and after.
Page 13
Notes and Such
Lucifer made his most cherished his lieutenants, Belzebuth and Astaroth. Lucifuge, his prot?g?, is always most devious, but he is still a youth; Satanachia and his army rule the underworld. The Xtians call it hell, but I'm not so sure that it is hell for them. I'm also not sure that they're any more or less powerful than the spirits of what they consider light.
All I know is they should not be challenged, for they have the adoration of the entire underworld; a whole other race of spirits with their own ideology.
At the king's request, many have been dragged to 'hell' and live there forever: some happy and some not. I have glimpsed this world, and most humans do not belong there; only the strongest could survive with their sanity intact.
From here on there are a dozen other spirits, but for the intents and purposes of my journey, this grimoire is dedicated to my patron spirit, Loray; the daughter of the demon of the ninth house, born in the winter month, Sargatanas; some will know him by the name, Saggitarius, for he is the archer in the sky. He is the revealer of hell.
Loray patron of war, with 30 legions of spirits; she will bring me fortune and luck. She will save my father's kingdom. I will make this pact tonight at the witching hour.'