Void: Book Five of the Nightlord series

by Garon Whited

  I tossed the deadman switch in the back seat. Ted almost wet himself.

  “Shove that in the back seat, too,” I told him.

  “Aren’t you afraid of dying?”

  “Always. Good news is, that’s not a bomb. No, seriously,” I added, at his disbelieving look. “Here.” I pinched a chunk out of one of the sticks of fake dynamite. “It’s a sort of clay. Totally harmless.”

  “But you—you threatened to blow it up!”

  “Yes. The threat of an explosion kept us from getting into a serious conflict where I’d have to kill you all. There was no way I would risk innocent lives, though. The bluff was sufficient.”

  “You son of a bitch!” he shouted, and hit me. I let him, despite the radio coming on. Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyrie. Very appropriate theme. Valkyrie are also called choosers of the slain. He was definitely trying to prove his worth for Valhalla, and doing a decent job of it.

  I shouldn’t joke. Somewhere out there, there may be a Valhalla, or an energy plane universe bearing a strong resemblance to it. I’m not sure how I feel about that, nor am I sure how Odin would feel about me.

  Ted slugged me across the jaw, left-handed, and snapped my head to the side. Good thing I wasn’t driving.

  “Feel better?” I asked, turning back to face him as he hit me again. He had a good left, I give him that. The charm on him added some scorching sting to his punches. I was glad I regenerated. Still, I felt his third swing was a bit much. I caught his fist as it headed for my face again. It felt like a hot coal in my grip. I suppressed the desire to jerk my hand away, but the pain added a bit of urgency to my tone.

  “Now, look. Either we have a deal or we don’t. If we have a deal, I show you stuff you’ll never see again. If we don’t, I will kick you out of the car and possibly stop before I do it. You will note, I hope,” squeezing slightly, “how you don’t have any broken bones…yet. What does it take to get you to listen?”

  “Let go!”

  I let go of his fist and noted again how my hand wasn’t burned. It felt fine the instant I released him. He settled down in his seat, fuming and rubbing his hand. I didn’t harm it, but I did hurt it a little. I went ahead and shoved the fake bomber vest in the back seat.

  “Now, do you think you can hold on to your temper? Or do I turn this car right back around, youngster?”

  “I don’t want anything to do with you,” he declared. “You’re an abomination that feeds on the blood of the living.”

  “No, I’m a frightening piece of ecology,” I corrected. “My purpose, as I understand it, is to assist the dying in passing on from the world. In the ancient past, I believe it was the function of my kind to thin the herds of humans, culling the weak. Nowadays, I tend to comfort those people who are dying alone. You’d be surprised how many old people die with only me to hold their hands.

  “The abominations,” I went on, “are the ones who snatch young, healthy people off the street, stick needles in their brains, and farm them for their blood. I’m sure you’ve met their sort. They’re the most common breed because they do breed, and often at an appalling rate.”

  “I won’t listen to any of your lies.”

  I wanted to snap his neck. I resisted the urge. He reminded me uncomfortably of religious fanatics I have known. Do all vampire-hating people talk like that? Or is it a broader thing? Once normal people decide something is bad, will they listen to counterarguments, debate it, seek evidence? Or is the decision final?

  “I see. Okay. There’s a vampire nightclub. There’s a particular vampire who is, in their social structure, the master of the city, also known as the Black King. They have some rules within their society and have a sort of crime and punishment to go with them. Do you want to know any of this?”

  He glared at me for several seconds. I could see his stubbornness resisting the idea. Eventually, he turned away, put his elbow on the door and his chin in his hand. He thought about it. I didn’t interrupt.

  In my ear, I heard a quiet voice from Mary.

  “Two cars tried to follow you,” she said. “I shot them. The people are taking cover in the house.”

  I grunted an agreement, not wanting to disturb Ted’s thinking. Besides, I was looking for a good spot to set up a portable shift-booth.

  “Where are we going?” Ted asked, finally.

  “To a place where miracles happen.”

  “Miracles?”

  “Miracles.”

  “That doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “I promised to show you things. You’ll see, once we get to the high place and can look down.”

  We drove out to the desert—not a long drive, not in California. Bronze pulled off the highway onto a secondary road, then off that onto a dirt road. Once we reached nowhere, she parked in the middle of it.

  “This is a place where miracles happen?”

  “Sort of. Bronze? Will you keep an eye on the booth for me?”

  The radio came on again. Richard Marx, Right Here Waiting. Good song.

  I got out and went to the back. The trunk opened as I circled around. From inside the car, I heard Ted swearing.

  “She’s got a mind of her own, Ted,” I called, without looking. “You watched her drive us out here. What made you think you could slide into the driver’s seat and leave?”

  Ted climbed out the driver’s door, grumbling. I pulled out the portable shift-booth to the residence complex and unrolled it on the ground. A simple press of the button and the thing crackled and sprang up into a rigid structure.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s magic,” I told him. “Come on. Wonders yet to be seen, Ted.” I stepped into the empty space. Ted touched the material, feeling the cloth-like texture and the hardness, the rigidity of it. He followed me in and I triggered the shift.

  “Okay, let’s go out. This is where I live.”

  “A tent?” he asked, following me out into the Hall of Doors. He stopped talking and walking when he realized he was no longer in the desert. “What the hell just happened?”

  “This is my home,” I told him. “That’s a magical doorway into it. Come on.” I led him, with encouragement, to the tunnel. We walked along the slidewalk while he adjusted.

  In the media room, I called up a diagram of the Earth. Diogenes and I explained to him how the world ended in nuclear warfare.

  “Look around,” I told him. “All this stuff straight out of Buck Rogers or Star Trek.”

  “What’s Star Trek?”

  “Awesome. You need to watch more television. Just wait until Star Wars comes out in theaters. More awesomeness.

  “But back to my point. Make no mistake; this is the future—a possible future. One I hope doesn’t come to pass for you. All the fancy future gadgets you can think of and even more you can’t, they’re all here. And you’re the jerk who finally understands a little bit of what you’re facing.

  “Now, here’s the deal. The only reason you aren’t dead is because there are children in your house. I could blow the thing to flaming splinters and walk over the charred remains of your corpses to get my stuff back. I won’t. Not because I particularly like you or have a reverence for life, but because I despise the idea of hurting a child.

  “None of my things are irreplaceable. Some of it, however, isn’t just a bunch of futuristic technology. Some of it is enchanted—magical objects I spent time and personal effort on. I can do it again, but I’d rather not go to so much effort. Some of it is stuff I’m sentimental about—the sword, for example, is one I’ve had for a long time.

  “So here’s the deal. You got to meet some religious vampire hunters. You got them back alive, no less, which I wouldn’t have put any money on. You now have longjohns made of armor-class materials. All of that is less effort and time than it would take me to recreate my personal belongings. But my patience with you is at an end. I’ve been understanding of your predisposition toward anything you think of as a vampire. You have reason, since you were raised that
way and never had evidence to the contrary. I’ve tolerated the kidnapping of my girlfriend, even though she’s still grumpy about it. I’ve even tolerated my own crucifixion—all’s well that ends well, even if it is bloody damn painful. I’ve taken your insults and attitude and your ideas about double-crossing me. Now, having said as much, pay close attention:

  “I won’t take any more.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “You’re damn right I’m threatening you. I’m trying to rebuild a broken world you humans blew to hell, and you are giving me grief over my underwear! Nobody has infinite patience with stupidity, and I certainly don’t! You will either give me back my stuff the moment we get you back to your house, or I will depart and you will never even see me again!”

  “That’s not much of a threat,” he said, smiling. I rubbed my forehead.

  “You are an unimaginative man,” I stated. “Try to think of the advantages you could enjoy with me on your side. Armor, yes, but how about the ability to regrow a severed limb? Cure injuries, disease, even—in some limited and specific instances—bring back the dead? To say nothing of… no, you can’t imagine. I’ll have to demonstrate.

  “Diogenes! Get the target range ready.”

  “Ready, Professor.”

  “Follow me, Ted.” He followed, and what I could see of his spirit through the flickering of the charm, wondering, even doubting. He was afraid, knowing he was in my power, but he was also starting to wonder about the possibilities. I led him to another closet in the Hall of Doors and we came out in a small bunker in, oddly enough, southern California. I picked out several weapons from the armory and let Diogenes’ robots carry them to the target range for us. Ted took the robots in stride, strangely enough. Maybe he was only racist—or wraithist—about vampires.

  “This,” I explained, taking the long, pipe-like portion from the robot’s grasping hands, “is a pulse laser weapon. Think of it as a ray gun. It fires about a thousand times a second, each pulse lasting about a nanosecond. It does—” I sighted in on a distant target dummy. It vaporized. “—considerable damage. Consider how a vampire or werewolf would cope with having its torso turned to steam. I’m thinking it wouldn’t recover.” I handed it back to the robot, adding, “And now you can’t have one.”

  “Next up is a rocket launcher. I’m sure you’re familiar with the German panzerfaust and the bazooka. This is similar, but it works a bit more like a shotgun.” I fired it at a mid-ranged target. The rocket shot downrange, divided into twenty or so smaller projectiles, and exploded all over the place. “Multiple warheads,” I told him. “They’re perfect for knocking down doors, walls, and mobs of zombies. In fact, nothing corporeal is going to enjoy it much.

  “This,” I continued, “is a handgun of a design similar to those you’re familiar with. The ammunition, however, is extraordinarily lethal.” I fired it at a closer target. The round, a ten-millimeter bullet, exploded only slightly after impact and blew a hole the size of my fist. “You can’t have any of these, either—not anymore.” I switched weapons again.

  “This is a monomolecular-edged machete. It’s sharp enough to cut you if you look at it wrong.” I held it by the hilt and gently, slowly, drew the edge along another target dummy, cutting it in two from shoulder to opposite hip. “Handy for decapitating bad guys, opening barred doors, even cutting through walls to let the sunshine in, wouldn’t you say? You can’t have one, because you’re a dick.” I gestured at the array of lethality I hadn’t yet touched. “You can’t have any of it.” I waved the robots away.

  “Thank you, Diogenes. I’ve made my point.” The robots trundled back into the bunker with the weapons.

  Ted wore an expression between furious and frightened, but he didn’t say anything. I leaned against the shooting platform and folded my arms. I waited.

  “You’re saying you’ll give us these… the weapons of tomorrow if I give you back your things?” he asked.

  “No. I’m saying you’ve given in to your preconceived notions instead of evaluating me on my own merits. Because you failed to think, you can’t have them, ever, under any circumstances. But now you also know I am fully capable of picking off each and every one of you at will. The first target I vaporized? It’s over a thousand yards away. Imagine your head instead of the target. You’ll never see it coming. You might not realize you’re dead until the pitchfork hits.

  “I want my things back. And, while I won’t harm a child, I’ll damn well orphan the two in your house, kill any relatives who show up to claim them, and then bribe every official from here to Washington so I can personally adopt them. Mark that, because there’s my threat to you: I will raise your orphaned children. Unless you suck it up, deal with the inevitable, and return the things you stole from me. Take your pick.”

  “I’ll need to talk this over—”

  “I’ll give you sixty seconds to get in the house, gather it all up, and bring it all out. Then I leave. And, as I said before, you’ll never see me again. At least, not within a thousand yards.”

  Ted’s eyes widened. He finally understood.

  “You’re not giving me a choice, is that it?”

  “Oh, for the love of—you idiot! I’ve given you a choice! I’ve asked! I’ve bargained! I’ve given you—” I broke off, trying not to snarl. “There’s no talking to you. If any human being went through what I’ve gone through, you wouldn’t be surprised to find him punching you in the mouth. And yet, despite the most decent and upstanding methods I can think of, you persist in treating me as though I’m one of your type of monster!

  “Well, fine! You just found the sharp edge of my patience. You want to treat me like a monster? I can be a monster. Come with me. I’m taking you home.”

  “I don’t think it’s fair to—”

  I grabbed him by the throat and by the crotch to lift him over my head. I felt the sizzling pain of his charm and wanted to let go, but I forced myself to hang on. I needed to make my point.

  “You don’t understand,” I shouted into his goggle-eyed face. “I’ve been nice. I’ve been patient! But you refuse to listen! If you could pretend, just pretend, for two minutes that I might actually be honest in my intent to get my things and leave you alone, you wouldn’t be choking to death in the grip of the monster you insist I am!”

  I dropped him. He hit the ground hard.

  “Since you want me to be a monster,” I snarled, “I’ll play the part you demand. Now follow me, human. Heel!”

  He spat dust and rose to his feet. He might be an older man, but he was tough. He followed anyway as I led him through shift-booths back to his own California. I packed up the portable booth, stuffed it in the trunk, and Bronze drove us back to Ted’s house. Ted didn’t say anything until we hit the highway.

  “You really could kill us all, couldn’t you?”

  “Yes. It would be easier—far easier!—than what I’ve already done.”

  “Why haven’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t help it.

  “Look, Ted, I know you’ve been dealing with soulless minions of evil. I know you have a predisposition toward not trusting them. You’re right not to trust them. But you’ve got to consider potential gains versus potential costs. All I wanted was the things you stole from me—make no mistake, I view it as stealing, so keep your teeth together or I’ll remove them. In return, assuming you were able to demonstrate both reasonable caution and the ability to reason, I was willing to help you out against things we both despise—soulless vampires, the ones who kill indiscriminately.”

  “You say that now. You claim you’ve changed your mind.”

  “Ted, you’re a child. You’re so much younger than me, you might be considered old enough to spank. I can, and I might. Bear it in mind.”

  Ted was thoughtful—a good sign, I decided. I had doubts about his ability to think.

  “Suppose I believe you,” he offered. “Just suppose. You’re some sort of more human vampire from the future.”

>   “Okay.”

  “If I give you back your things, you’ll support us? You’ll be a lesser evil, helping us destroy a greater one?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that deal isn’t on the table anymore. I’m a nice guy, Ted, or I try to be. I even try to be patient and tolerant, but I’m limited. Our dispute over stolen goods has grown too big to ignore. Your punishment is to give up my things—because it’s the right thing to do—and to never hear from me, never have any help from me again.”

  “We got by without your help. We can do it again.”

  “Yes, but you’ll have to live with the knowledge you had a choice, a chance to do so much better. And you blew it. That is your punishment.”

  We rode in silence for a while as Bronze swung off the highway and onto streets.

  “Do you want to come in for your things?”

  “No. You don’t want to invite me in, and if you did you would use it as an opportunity to betray me, try to kill me, or otherwise attempt to double-cross me. I’ll wait outside, thank you, where my companion—the lady vampire you kidnapped—can continue to cover me with her sniper rifle.”

  Ted cursed as we turned onto his street. Two cars were stopped in the driveway. They weren’t going anywhere. The one in front blocked the one in back. Both front tires were flat and there were a dozen holes in the radiator grille. There was also one hole in the windshield, right where the rear-view mirror used to attach. No doubt that one did as much to stop the car as the flat tires.

  “See what happens?” I told him, as Bronze parked at the opposite curb. “You’ve got sixty seconds. Get going. And, if you’re curious, yes, we can see through the walls.”

  Ted got out of the car and hurried up the walk.

  “Nice trip?” Mary asked, through our communication spell.

  “No,” I fumed. “See anything?”

  “There’s activity in the house. They’ve been hunkering down since I stopped them from following you.”

  “Thank you, by the way.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Any idea what they’re doing?”

  “Looks to me like they’re putting stuff in a sack.”