Virtue Inverted

by Piers Anthony

  Benny hesitated. “I—am I allowed to ask?”

  “You’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

  “You’re not a human wizard?” Benny asked blankly.

  “Yes and no…I am constrained to this human form most of the time, but it’s not my true form, as I am not of this world. Likewise, while I’m experienced in the arcane arts of this realm, I have other powers I don't like to show. For example, I made you come with us.”

  “But that was just a spur of the moment thing. I just decided--” Benny broke off. “You put that thought in my mind? Telepathy?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why? I'm hardly any use to you and Dale. You'd be better off without me.”

  “One danger when I lend my powers out is corruption. Dale likes the power I grant him, and uses it well, but he is slowly being corrupted by it. That will lead to mischief, in due course.”

  Benny thought about that. “And I'm not corrupted?”

  “Not yet. It is my hope that as you become a man, you will remain on the straight course, and be a useful companion. I do need a companion, on occasion. One I can trust.”

  “I—I don't understand. I always try to do the right thing, but I have trouble knowing what the right thing is.”

  “Precisely. Continue questing for that right thing.”

  Benny was becoming increasingly confused. “I'll—I'll try. But I sure don't know how to handle a mob of hungry zombies.”

  “Go sleep. You'll see in the morning.”

  Benny obeyed, hoping the man wasn't crazy. What was he, if not human? And would this secret enable them to kill all the zombies? It was hard to make much sense of that. But if he really was crazy, why did Beranger put up with him? Ugly and mean as Beranger might be, he was not a man for foolishness.

  But what was there to do, except sleep and hope for the best? And trust that all would become clear in good time.

  In the morning they breakfasted, saw to the horse—there was a connecting door to the stable—and made ready for action.

  “Now we need to get them all together,” Cycleze said. “My power extends only so far, and after using it I will be severely weakened, so we will have only one chance. We have to hope that all or almost all the zombies have collected here, so that very few remain to be mopped up separately.”

  “We can get on the roof of the stall and attract their attention,” Beranger suggested.

  “But won't there be other zombies laying siege to other houses?” Benny asked. “All across the town? How can we get them all here?”

  “No,” Cycleze said. “There are no other sieges, because the living folk are dead and consumed. That is why they are orienting on us. If not stopped, they will then move on to other cities, like Galver Dorn.”

  “As the Duke surely knows,” Benny said. “The townsmen wouldn't much like that.”

  “Then let's get on it,” Beranger said briskly, hardly cracking a smile.

  They made their way to the stall, where the horse was evidently nervous about the surrounding zombies, and they climbed a ladder to the roof. They stood there and gazed out across the landscape.

  There were zombies as far as Benny could see, crowding thickly around the house. They were hungry, all right!

  “Bring them in closer,” Cycleze said.

  Closer! They were already much too close for Benny's comfort.

  Beranger stood on the edge of the roof and made a grandiose gesture. “Here, you morons!” he called. “Come and get it!”

  “But if they can't see us or hear us, how will that get their attention?” Benny asked.

  “Fresh zombies can see and hear a little,” Beranger reminded him. “But mainly they just sense us as live meat. Maybe it's the heat of our bodies. Since normally live folk run from zombies, they can sense motion, and they close in on it. Do your part.”

  Benny stood at the other edge of the roof, and gestured and called similarly. He felt foolish, capering before such an audience, but saw that the zombies did respond, crowding closer. He was very glad they could not reach him.

  Or could they? Now they were so densely packed that they formed a struggling mound as zombies clambered on top of zombies, not caring who got crushed below. Soon it was as high as the stall roof, and filling in closer. They would be on it before long. Benny held his sword nervously, ready to start slicing, but he knew that more would swarm over the cut up ones and overwhelm the few living folk.

  “Any time, Cy,” Beranger said. He was already slicing off limbs and heads as they projected over the roof. The smell was awful.

  Benny glanced back at Cycleze, and saw the man manifest as a pillar to turquoise light. “Don't look!” Beranger warned, and Benny hastily averted his gaze as the light intensified.

  It was like a silent explosion. The color seemed to reach out to bathe the zombies, and they melted into a single massive glob. In a few seconds the house was surrounded by a dark pool that flowed outward across the landscape and sank into the ground, leaving a glistening oily residue.

  The zombies were gone.

  The greenish-blue light faded. Benny knew it was now safe to look. Cycleze lay on the roof as if unconscious. He looked drained.

  “Take it easy,” Beranger said. “We'll go mop up the rest.”

  “Do so,” Cycleze agreed, and closed his eyes as if sleeping.

  “We can't just leave him!” Benny protested.

  “He needs to be left alone. We're doing that.”

  Beranger led the way down the ladder into the stall, then into the house. “They won't be hard to find,” he said. “They'll smell our living meat and come for us. Just hack them apart.”

  “What—what happened on the roof?” Benny asked, still amazed.

  “He’s an angel; a being of light from another dimension…what you saw was him assuming his true form. No creature can look directly at it without being stunned and maybe blinded, and for zombies, whose hold on life is less secure, it's worse. Any in the vicinity get dissolved, as you saw. But in this mortal realm Cycleze can't hold it long, and the effort depletes him. It will be several hours before he can get up and walk, and overnight before he is fully functional. That's when he needs a friend, so no one will go after him when he's vulnerable.”

  All Benny could think of was an incidental question. “Does—does Duke Dijon know about Cycleze?”

  “No. He thinks we're just lucky. But he doesn't trust us, so he gives us the worst assignments. If we succeed, the dirty job is done. If we don't, he'll be rid of us. It's win-win.”

  “But I thought you and the Duke were friends!”

  “Know this, lad: your worst enemies can be the friendliest to your face. Never trust anyone you don't really know.”

  “Then why do you go to him?”

  “The money is good. It's also a challenge, sort of one-upmanship. Every time we complete a mission and live to tell the tale, we score points on him. He hates that.”

  “So we'll return to him for the second mission?”

  “Which will be a worse stinker than this one,” Beranger agreed, laughing.

  Worse than this one. Benny repressed a shudder.

  They walked on into the deserted town. Two zombies appeared from a house and charged them. Beranger neatly sliced one in half so that the pieces fell separately, while Benny nerved himself, held his breath, and managed to behead the other. The body still lumbered toward him, until he cut off a leg and it fell.

  He had slain his first zombie.

  “Congratulations,” Beranger said. “You have been blooded. Or slimed, as the case may be.”

  Benny managed to hold his gorge.

  They continued though the town, finding several more stray zombies.

  They rounded a corner of a building. The door opened and a young woman emerged. She ran toward them, smiling, her brown hair flouncing.

  Beranger lopped off her head with a backhand swing.

  Blood gushed out as the woman fell.

  She was alive.


  Beranger faltered, staring at Benny with a look of guilt before resolution steeled his features. “She should’ve known better than to come charging at us like that…the heifer had it coming. But did you see the precision of that swing, Benny? Damn I’m good!”

  Benny stared at Beranger and became uneasy. The man had taken an innocent life and made a joke of it. That as action bothered Benny far more then the mistake itself. Cycleze was right. Beranger was indeed being corrupted. He was too much into killing.

  Chapter 9

  They parked the wagon and stabled the horse at the edge of town, then walked on in. Cycleze evidently knew that their next mission would be close at hand.

  “I am so glad to see you're safely back!” Duke Dijon exclaimed as they entered his office. He had of course known they were coming; they had made no secret of their arrival in Galver Dorn.

  “And we are so glad to be back,” Beranger said affably.

  “Was it difficult?”

  “It was a challenge, but we managed.” And again, townsmen would already have verified that the zombies were gone. They would soon be recolonizing the freed real estate, as no original owners survived. “What's the other task?”

  “Vampires.”

  “I don't like vampires,” Beranger said.

  “Nobody does. That's why it's a problem.”

  “That's why you saved this chore for us.”

  Dijon nodded. “We do seem to understand each other.”

  “Yes, we do,” Beranger agreed. Both Cycleze and Benny kept straight faces; it was, after all, true. “Hand over the money and the info. We'll get it done.”

  The Duke produced another bag of gold, which Beranger verified while listening to the information.

  “There was a wealthy recluse who lived in a mansion not far from town,” Dijon said. “He had little contact with the locals, preferring to maintain his own personnel for servants and to grow his own grain and vegetables for his staff and stock. Thus the neighbors were not immediately aware when he died or departed—we remain uncertain which—as the mansion and grounds continued to be well-maintained. Occasionally a servant would be spied scything the lawn or clearing storm damage, so it seemed that all remained in order. Until one neighbor became suspicious. He set up a post in a tall tree just off the property and used a powerful spyglass to observe the mansion and its occupants. It took some time, but he was patient. He saw a man go to a cow in a back pen and bite the animal's neck, sucking its blood. They were vampires! They must have set up their coven when the owner left, and because they were secretive, the townsmen did not know.” Dijon smiled grimly. “But now we do know, and naturally we want it promptly extirpated. We can't have vampires preying on us.”

  “They were feeding on the neighbors?” Beranger asked.

  “No. They are canny enough to know that would be a dead giveaway of their nature. But they had to be preying on somebody. They can change to bats and fly to other sections, so as to keep the location of the coven private.”

  “But he was feeding on a cow,” Benny protested.

  “Obviously they maintain the stock as backup. Vampires prefer human blood.”

  “We'll get it done,” Beranger said.

  “Make sure you get them all. We don't want a re-infestation later.”

  “Tomorrow,” Beranger agreed.

  “Tomorrow will be fine.”

  Dijon gave them the address, and they left his office. “This doesn't sound too dangerous,” Benny said. “Where's the catch?”

  “You are thinking like a hunter,” Beranger said approvingly. “We need to study the situation and find the catch before we strike. What do you think it is?”

  This was another test. Benny focused. “They must be more deadly than we know. So when we come, they'll bite us and turn us into vampires.”

  “They won't do that.”

  Benny, guided by that, worked it out for himself. “Because they don't want more vampires. It's the predator prey ratio: the fewer the vamps, the more blood for each one of them. But they could still fight us and kill us.”

  “Not if we catch them by surprise.”

  Suddenly Benny saw it. “And we won't do that, because they'll know we're coming.”

  “And why will they know?”

  “Because Dijon will tell them! Because he wants to be rid of us more than he wants to be rid of the vampires.”

  “Mixed,” Beranger said.

  “I read his mind,” Cycleze said. “He wants to be rid of us both. So a fight to mutual destruction will suit him just fine.”

  “There must be more than that,” Beranger said.

  “There is. Vampires have infiltrated the political leadership of several other towns, and proved to be astute advisers. They are doing very well, and Dijon's illicit businesses are losing market share. So he wants to be rid of them, not because of any danger to the populace—he hardly cares about the common folk—but as a business measure. He fears that this local coven is setting up to be a base to infiltrate his own shady personnel. So he wants them gone as an elementary precaution. Preferably in a way that does not implicate him, because they actually have human rights. He will of course deny sending us. If the vampires kill us, he can use that as a pretext to firebomb their mansion, thus being rid of both.”

  “I could get to dislike the Duke,” Beranger muttered. “If I tried.”

  “So the catch is that it's a trap for us,” Benny said. “How do we handle that?”

  “We take them out,” Beranger said. “In a way that implicates Dijon. So that the corrupt officials of the other towns come to regard him as a danger to them. That will be more than enough mischief for him, as they're as canny and unscrupulous as he is.” He glanced at Cycleze. “You know where it is.”

  “Naturally. This way.” They ducked into a house they were passing. This turned out to be a clothing depot, where the uniforms of the Duke's personal minions were stored. The odd thing was that the depot's personnel were all asleep.

  Then Benny caught on: a sleep spell, well within Cycleze's power. And of course it had not been coincidence that they were in this vicinity; they had been headed for this depot all along.

  Soon the three of them were outfitted in the Duke's distinctive blue livery. They walked out, and the people of the town pretended not to see them. It was dangerous to be openly curious about the Duke's business.

  “Now what?” Benny asked Beranger.

  “Now we take out the vamps.”

  “But that's tomorrow.”

  Beranger merely looked at him. Oh, he was being naive again. The Duke had been given the wrong day, so that their immediate action would catch him by surprise. He wouldn't even be able to protest their accomplishment of his mission early.

  What impressed Benny the most was that Beranger had given that day when the Duke gave them the assignment. He had already planned this, then.

  They marched on toward the address they had for the coven. Many people saw them, and would remember. Any of them could have told the Duke, but again, it was safest simply to mind their own business. Why question the Duke's activities?

  “The vampires do not know we're coming at this time,” Cycleze said. “There are thirteen of them, scattered around the premises.”

  “Kill any you encounter,” Beranger told Benny. “Do not pause to talk with them any more than you would with a zombie. Just cut off their heads.”

  The estate was large. High palisades concealed it from its neighbors. They opened the front gate, which was not locked, and walked boldly up the drive to the mansion. They opened the front door, also not locked, and went in.

  “Twelve on the ground floor,” Cycleze said. “One upstairs.”

  They drew their swords. “Take that one,” Beranger said to Benny. “We'll take out the others.”

  Benny didn't argue. The thought of killing anyone knotted his stomach, but he remembered the zombies. It had to be done. These dangerous creatures were a lot less human than they looked. He climbed th
e grand staircase in sight of the entrance.

  Upstairs consisted of a hall with a number of doors, surely bedrooms. He gripped his sword tightly and opened the first, verifying its nature. It was empty. He opened the second, also empty.

  When he opened the third he heard something. It sounded like water splashing. How could that be? Oh—it was a lavatory, in the corner of the bedroom. Someone was washing up!

  He burst into the chamber, sword held high. And paused.

  “Oh!” It was a girl, a young woman, nude, standing before a filled basin, with a sponge in her hand. She stared at him with dismay.

  Benny knew what he should do: swing his sword to behead her. But two things stopped him. First, he remembered how Beranger had slain the living human woman, mistaking her for a zombie. Benny desperately did not want to make that mistake himself. Second, she was beautiful. She was sylphlike slender and well proportioned, with a lovely face and long fair hair extending past her pert bottom to her knees. Exactly the kind of damsel he'd despairingly longed for as a girlfriend.

  “You're human,” she said.

  “Yes.” He could think of no other response.

  “I am a vampire. You can see my teeth.” She bared her teeth, showing petite fangs.

  Why hadn't she tried to hide her nature? “Yes.”

  “I think I know what you are here to do,” she said. “You had better do it before you run out of time. I won't resist.”

  “I'm not here to rape you!” he protested.

  “If you tie a towel around my head, I will not be able to bite you. Then you can safely do it.”

  “No!” he cried in anguish.

  “Then, what is your intention?”

  “I—I--” But he could not say it.

  “You are here to kill me. You can do that after you rape me.”

  He was emotionally overwhelmed. “May the gods curse me, I can't!”

  “You will get in trouble with your friends if you don't. That is the nature of such encounters.”

  “How can you be so damned rational?”

  “I have trained myself to be realistic and accept the inevitable. It isn't necessarily easy.”