Near the end of the basement corridor, Blix stops by a pair of dark brown double doors decorated with a spray-painted goat—I think—skull above the words ‘Hose of Satin.’ Dayum. Those words lead to multiple different destinations on the highway of mockery humor. Seems a fitting palace for the kind of mental midget who’d burn himself out making an army of vampires less functional than mannequins.
Blix gestures both hands at it like a game show hostess indicating a prize.
“Okay. This could still be dangerous.” I examine the doors. They appear to push open. “Sam, stay back and watch the hallway.”
“Got it.”
Brady moves a half step to his left. Not sure if he’s hiding behind me or shielding Sam. Maybe both.
I give the doors a shove and step into a big rectangular room. Stacks of long cafeteria style tables stand on a bunch of large pushcarts the left. The right near corner is packed full of similar pushcarts holding tons of folding chairs. Dozens of loose mattresses litter the floor in the middle of the room, most likely dragged here by vampires or maybe homeless squatters. Human bones litter the area around the mattresses. I stop counting at twenty-two skulls. There’s so much ash and dust everywhere, I think Pablo Escobar used this place as a packaging facility.
Three sofas are lined up along the innermost wall, probably relocated from waiting areas upstairs. A guy sits on the dark blue one in the center, leaned back in an extreme slouch, almost as if he’s been shot in the head and left here. He’s in full goth regalia, bushy black hair, pale white face and hands, black lipstick, big ass boots, leather bracers, trench coat. This dude is a portrait of heroin withdrawal at its most bleak. Or at least, what I imagine heroin withdrawal might look like. Don’t take my word for it. I’ve never been around the stuff.
It takes the guy a second or three to realize we’re here. He struggles to lift his head from the sofa back.
Feels like a vampire. He’s so new no one’s peeled the plastic off him yet.
“Connor?” asks Brady, stepping out from behind me. “Are you serious?”
“You know this guy?” I gesture my katana at him.
“Yeah. Connor Landry.” Brady walks toward him, stepping over bones and mattresses. “We’ve been best friends since high school. Two months ago, he stopped showing up for band rehearsals. Never called. Never answered email. Just disappeared. None of us had any damn idea what happened to him.”
“Kinda makes sense why,” I say in a soft voice. “He got turned.”
“And he bites me without a damn word or asking me if I wanted it?” Arms out to the sides, Brady shouts, “Dude, what the hell?”
I hurry after him, glancing back at Sam. Since there’s only the one guy in here and he looks wasted as hell, I wave for my li’l bro to follow us inside so nothing sneaks up on him from the hallway.
“Hey, Bray,” says Connor in a dazed voice. “What’s up, man? Who’s the chick?”
33
A Serious Case of Burnout
Brady grabs Connor by the collar of his trench coat, drags him to his feet, and shakes him.
Connor dangles, lifeless as a full-size rag doll. It takes him a second to react, at which point, he waves his arms around, his glazed eyes seemingly unable to find the reason the world is rocking back and forth.
“Dude!” yells Brady. “You turned me in to a fuckin’ vampire? Why?”
I rush forward and sorta-gently separate the two. Connor sways to one side, staggering a few steps before finding his balance. His physical balance. Not talking about any sort of Buddhist stuff.
Blix warbles, making Sam chuckle.
“Yeah, you’re right,” whispers my brother. “He can barely stand.”
This close to the guy, I do recognize him from school. One of the goth kids Brady used to hang out with, the guy who often wore plastic vampire teeth. I vaguely remember him being the ‘weird, scary kid’ no one picked on, afraid he carried a knife or would burn their house down days later. He’s probably the one they called the cops on for ‘having a gun,’ whether or not whoever called sincerely believed he had one. I don’t know much about him other than he dressed in black and acted creepy and distant. Connor starts laughing for no particular reason, a dry, whispery sort of noise one might expect from the mad scientist right before they tell someone we’re too late to stop their plan.
“The hell’s so funny, man?” Brady shoves him.
Conner stumbles away, swinging his arms like a broken marionette to keep from falling over. “Life is funny.”
“Hey.” I step up on him. “What the heck are you doing? Do you even realize what’s happening?”
“Yeah. I’m sharing the most awesome thing in the world.” Connor holds his arms out, teeters to his left, and almost falls again.
“He’s drunk,” mutters Brady.
“No, he’s delirious. We can’t get drunk… unless we feed from a mortal who’s so ripped they can’t even stand.” I look back at Connor. “You’re maybe a month into undeath. You’re way too young to make any new vampires at all.”
“Chill, bitch.” Connor sways to the other side. “Being a vampire is perfection. It is beneath us to hide ourselves. We should be out there. Proud. Kings and queens of the night.”
“You should try being king of standing unassisted first,” mutters Sam.
Ugh. He can’t be an Oblivare, but he sure sounds like one. I wonder if they can pass the Transference on in the usual way? Hate to think it might be like some of the folkloric stories about a simple bite transmitting the curse, though it could explain why the Oblivare tend to be kill feeders. A person can’t gradually slide into vampirism over the course of a week after being bitten if they’re dead from the feeding. Also, the whole ‘three bites turns you into a vampire’ thing as you gradually get ‘sicker’ is a total fabrication of medieval peasant folklore.
Obviously, I’m guessing here. No clue if Connor’s sire is an Oblivare or merely an idiot for leaving him unattended.
“Listen to me.” I snap my fingers in his face a few times. “Setting all these wild, new vampires loose on the city is going to make it dangerous for everyone else. We keep it secret because there are billions of mortals. If they took vampires seriously, we would be in big trouble.”
“You sound just like them.” Connor throws a wave at me. “Go away. You don’t understand.”
I point at him. “King of the night? At the moment, you’re not even king of a nursing home. You can barely walk. Giving someone the Transference drains you, making you weaker. You’re not allowing any recovery time before you do it again. You are new and weak. The vampires you make are even weaker. And now, everyone you try to turn into a vampire is so unstable they randomly die. Do you even see all the bones in here? You aren’t ‘sharing awesomeness’ with anyone. You’re killing them. You have to stop, if only so you don’t destroy yourself.”
He squints at me.
“Is that true or are you just making it up to scare him?” asks Brady.
“Look at him.” I prod Connor in the shoulder with the sheathed katana. “The Transference takes a lot out of the sire. The older they are at the time, the faster they recover from it. It’s a seriously bad idea to make a progeny at all before spending fifty years as a vampire—or so. Some people are tougher than others. He’s what, maybe two months? I mean seriously. He smells new. And if I can smell someone’s newness, they’re really damn new.”
Blix rambles.
“He said the guy is definitely killing himself making so many vamps,” says Sam, a little closer than I’d like him to be.
I glance back. He’s about a quarter of the way across the room, partially hiding behind a column. Okay, good Sam. Got some cover.
“Don’t you see?” yells Connor, raising his hands. “This is amazing. It’s all the stuff we pretended about in school. This shit is real? I never imagined. But I found it, Bray! I found it.”
“Dude, listen to her.” Brady grabs his arm. “You’re gonna destroy yourself.”<
br />
“Bray. Screw the band. Screw those dickhead parents of yours. This is the real thing. I had to share it with you first.”
I grab Connor’s arm to steady him and also make sure he doesn’t try anything sudden. “How long have you been a vampire?”
He dazedly looks at me. “Uhh, I dunno. It’s been like three or four weeks. Hooked up online with this chick who said she was the real deal. Went down to Cali to meet her.” His head lolls back.
“Let me guess. She lives in Ventura,” I mutter.
“Whoa.” Connor stares in awe at me.
“Figures. They don’t give a crap down there.”
Brady glances at me. “What does that mean?”
“Lawless. Don’t care about anything. Going to Ventura to get the Transference is the vampire equivalent of a Las Vegas wedding. Fast, easy, cheap, no questions… and a ton of regrets the next day.” I shake my head. “She probably knew he’d go freakin’ batshit and did it anyway for laughs.”
“Bray, man. Who is this chick? She kinda looks like that girl in our class who got stabbed.” Connor lifts his head to look at me again. “Didn’t know she had a younger sister. Nice LL Bean sweater, kid.” He chuckles. “Dude, since when do you date squares?”
I push Connor back a step. “One, we’re not dating. Two, dude! Listen to what we’re saying here. You are gonna kill yourself. Stop making vampires. Two of them exploded right in front of us as we walked in here. You aren’t giving anyone ‘awesome vampire powers,’ you’re turning them into macabre floor artwork.”
Blix babbles.
“Sare, what does ‘feng shui’ mean?” asks Sam.
I furrow my brows. “I’ll explain tomorrow.”
“Okay. Whatever it is, Blix says this guy doesn’t have any.”
Connor swings his right arm up, pointing at me. He’s leaning so far back he’s going to fall at any second. “You have no idea what power means.” He lurches forward, nearly falling. The stomp of his boot slamming concrete reports like a gunshot off the cinder block walls. “Bray, you bring this chick here to get the gift? She knows a lot of shit, man. We gotta keep her.”
“Listen to me, you infuriating dumbass.” I jab the tip of the katana scabbard into his chest. “I’m not saying vampires are bad. I’m saying you are too young to make more and you are making them so fast you are going to destroy yourself. You have to stop.”
Connor staggers forward, falling into me like a drunk and grabbing my arms a little above my elbows. His slightly manic expression tells me he’s about to escalate things.
“This doesn’t need to turn into a fight,” I say. “You’re not in your right mind.”
“Get off my sister or else,” yells Sam.
“Heh.” Connor leans left, peering past me. “Cute kid.”
“He’s adorable, but he’s got a demon of a temper.”
Sam blinks at me. “Okay, bad. Worse than one of Dad’s jokes. No points.”
“Ouch.” I pretend to gasp, hurt. “How can you say that, Sam?”
“With my lips.”
Connor squeezes my arms. “I’m not gonna fight. I’m only gonna throw you out of my domicile.”
“Uhh, dude. ‘Domicile?’ Who talks like that?”
He grunts, trying unsuccessfully to pick me up.
I plant my right hand on his shoulder, holding him down. “Look, you’re so weak you can barely stand. I’m not as harmless as I look.” I extend my fangs. “Stop. Making. More. Vampires. I’m telling you this so you don’t die. Don’t force me to drag you out of here. There are quite a few other vampires in Seattle who’d really like to take their time explaining to you why what you’re doing is a seriously bad idea.”
Connor pauses, giving me an ‘oh shit’ look. “You’re one of them.”
“You’re only figuring it out now? How many mortals do you know talk about stuff like the Transference?”
He points a shaky finger at me. “Like, you’re one of them, trying to keep all the power for yourselves in the secret little vampire society. Don’t want to share.”
“It’s totally not about that.” I sigh. “You’re not listening.”
“It’s a class reunion, Bray.” Connor teeters back.
“Duuuude.” Brady rubs his forehead. “I can’t believe you freakin’ killed me.”
This guy has to be delirious from his condition. No one is this oblivious to reality. Not even people who think coal has a future. “Relax. And freakin’ listen to what I’m trying to tell you.”
“You won’t stop me from…” Connor grabs my arms again, grunting. “Sharing. Awesome. Everyone.” He grunts louder.
“Don’t!” I shout. “You’re gonna des—”
Connor bursts into a cloud of ash and flying bones, a hint of fire at the center of where his torso used to be. I raise my arms to shield my face from the heat. Brady screams, falling over backward to the ground—and passes out. Uhh, did he like faint at the sight of his best friend blowing up? No one usually screams that loud unless they’re having their first Brazilian wax.
“I didn’t do it!” yells Sam.
Blix chatters.
“He burned himself out.” Sam jogs over to examine the bones. “Can I keep the skull? It has fangs.”
“You want a fanged skull in your room?” I wince. “Not sure Mom would allow it in the house.”
“She let you have Coralie’s mummy in your room.”
“Different situation entirely.”
“How?” He sticks his arms out to the sides. “Dead bodies are dead bodies and this is only a skull.”
“The difference between letting a friend sleep over for a few nights and taking a trophy that used to be a person.” I exhale out my nose.
He gets this ‘ohhhh’ expression. “Okay. You’re right. Forget it.”
Agonized screams erupt from all over the hospital.
“Uh oh.” Sam peers around. “We woke up the nest.”
“Crap.” I grab Brady and throw him over one shoulder. “Time to go, Sam. Run.”
“Blix! Closest mirror!” yells my brother.
“Aoba oda!” chirps Blix before flying out the door.
Sam races after the imp. “He said ‘on it’”
34
Here Comes the Sun
You know those funny YouTube videos where some guy in an underdeveloped country loads up a tiny pickup truck or bicycle with a giant mound of cargo three times the size of the vehicle and it can barely move? Yeah, I feel like one of those little trucks flying while carrying Brady.
The dude isn’t terribly big. I mean, as guys go, he’s lanky. Still, he’s heavier than Ashley and way heavier than any of the Littles. Giving my little brother rides around the lake had been fun. Lugging this dude across Seattle is the exact opposite of fun. Flying him is a constant state of straining myself to gain altitude, pausing to take a proverbial breath—which causes me to start plummeting—then straining again to recover lost altitude. There’s a reason people use the phrase ‘dead weight’ to describe something burdensome.
I dragged Brady out a window of the abandoned hospital after making sure Sam got into a mirror. Blix is leading him home, so I’m not worried. The boy is almost more comfortable in the mirrorworld than Sophia—probably because it’s way harder to scare him. Pretty sure the world on the other side feeds off our fears and nightmares. People who are timid or easily scared generally have a more dangerous time there. The mirrorverse really is a literal representation of a person potentially getting lost inside their own fears and insecurities, never to emerge.
So. My little brother is safe. I don’t feel like too much of a dumbass for not sending him home immediately. The ‘big bad monster’ we went looking for ended up being a pretty useless moron. Given Connor’s state when we found him, Sophia probably could have kicked his ass without using magic. Her magic really isn’t terribly helpful in a fight. Except for moments of extreme emotion, it takes her anywhere from five minutes to several hours to cast any spells. Though,
a localized change from day to night in a pinch is super handy, at least for me.
Right. Brady.
The unstable ones simply disintegrated, but Connor had some kind of fiery nonsense going on inside his core at the moment of destruction. When he exploded, Brady faceplanted. Seems there is some sort of effect if a sire is destroyed in front of the progeny. Maybe some kind of psychic feedback wave went off when their mind link broke that bought Brady a ticket for the express train to Derptown. Hopefully, it’s round-trip passage.
I didn’t want to leave Brady behind, mostly because he’s not in a great emotional place right now. He needs to learn how to vampire properly, too. Also, from the sound of it, like twenty or more angry vampires had a serious need to find an ass to kick. I couldn’t take the chance they recognized him as a ‘brother’ and didn’t hurt him.
Fair bet all are Connor’s progeny and probably would’ve been weak enough for me to cut down. But… this sweater is new. It’s actually from Nordstrom, not LL Bean. Don’t want to get blood all over it, and vampire blood is a total pain to wash out of fabric. Not quite as bad as demon blood, but still bad. They don’t teach this stuff in home ec. Well, they don’t really teach home ec at all anymore. Bleh.
I decided to take Brady to Aurelie’s apartment for a few reasons. We’re already close. Her balcony is high up, so no one will see me lugging a body around. This is also around the time Dad often wanders down to the kitchen for his nocturnal feeding. Not sure he’d approve of me dragging strange unconscious boys into the house this late. Mostly, I don’t want to fly all the damn way home lugging this guy. I’m going to run out of steam halfway there and crash. Those movies where they have vampires swoop down out of the night sky, grab some random victim and carry them off like hawks taking gophers out of a field? Yeah. I have no damn idea where anyone got the idea. Adults are damn heavy. We don’t have wings. Vampire flight is pure desire, magic, and giving the middle finger to physics.
Vampire Innocent | Book 12 | Ancient Vampire Death Cults & Other Annoyances Page 29