I shook my head, a sad, lingering sigh escaping from me, like I had read an obituary of a neighbor I’d once known, but who had moved away and lost touch. Not too sad, just energetic enough to register and seem genuine.
That was clearly the last thing he expected because he moved to stand, but I placed my knife gently along his thigh and said, “Stay for a bit. We’ve got a lot to discuss, starting with a quiet place where we can have a cup of coffee and some privacy.”
His eyes bulged at the knife cozied up to his femoral artery, and I saw him fold internally. He stood, jerked his head across the street at a diner that was apparently the only other restaurant in the town, and started to walk. I followed him, and in less than a minute we were entering a greasy spoon that smelled like eggs and coffee even though it was close to nine in the evening. We picked a booth, a rough, pleather affair, and he sat with his eyes flicking nervously like he was still deciding if he could make it to the door before I took him down.
He was much smaller than me, about 5’8” and lightly built, a nice-looking kid in a bland way, but he was no fighter. I could tell that from—well, from every detail about him. No, this was the talker, the set-up guy, the arranger, but not the one who finished things off. He might get rough with Esther, but that was the only time, and it was by her choice, not his. The lone waitress made her way over, and I could tell her feet hurt and she needed a smoke break, and could stand to wash her apron more diligently, but all in all she was polite, and she returned quickly with two iced waters and two cups of coffee. There was a metal boat with milk, not cream, because it wasn’t that kind of place, and when I stirred some into my coffee it bloomed like an afternoon thundercloud.
“How long have you been with her?” I stared into my coffee, still watching the milk curl sinuously. I wondered if it might curdle. The diner did seem like that kind of place.
He swallowed to buy time, and then said, “About six months. How do you know about, about her? And me?” He was scared. That was good.
“What’s your name, the real one? Are you from near here, and how did she find you?”
He didn’t hesitate at all, which seemed to bode well for what I was going to ask him at the end of our little coffee break. “Ethan. No, I used to visit here. With an aunt, but she’s dead. I came back once to see a girl, but she was gone, and I met a guy who asked me if I believed in ghost stories.”
Ethan. After all these years. The hand of Elizabeth was everywhere, and I had to actually work hard to stifle a laugh at knowing that her own labyrinthine plots would undo her hold on life. She truly understood long-range planning, and I tried to imagine what Ethan had looked like when he was a teenager, visiting his lonely, odd aunt, who we thought had been a witch. Ethan had been known to our now-departed friend Hayseed, who staked us to our fortune, and in an email sent more than a year ago, Hayseed, or Lyle, to be more respectful of the dead, had described in vivid detail a solitary woman near this very town who had a teenaged nephew visit periodically. This was the closing of the circle—a story from months ago, about a lonely woman, a single boy, and an ancient ghoul on the prairie, and every part of it led me to this moment.
The boy, Ethan, had reported that his aunt shook an old, heavy, and strangely made necklace at storms as they rolled across the prairie. While it was a curiosity to us, nothing more, now it became a sort of revelation that cemented my opinion of exactly how devious Elizabeth really was. She was . . . remarkable. Perfect in her evil, but remarkable nonetheless, like a predator that one can admire but still keep a safe distance from, if only out of respect for the killer’s natural ability.
I sipped my coffee again, and asked, “What happened to the one before you?” Helpers have a way of dying horribly, and I wanted to gauge his awareness of just how tenuous his hold on life could be at this moment. He looked fairly bright, and he didn’t disappoint me with his response.
“I’m sure she tore him apart right after it became obvious that I was game. And before you ask, I know what she is. I know who she is, sort of, and I’ll tell you my deep, dark secret.” He challenged me with a glare. “I like being with her. I get her to talk to me sometimes, and there are moments where she’s lucid. Other times, she’s just—trapped, I think. Or drifting. I have no idea how many miles of road have gone under her feet, and I’m not even sure I could understand it if she told me.”
That wasn’t exactly what I expected, but it was good. The kid was self-aware, at the very least, and just depraved enough to want to serve her. So I laid out the bait to see what would happen.
“I know she’s nearby, or fairly so. I want you to do something for me, Ethan.”
“What’s that?” He was suspicious. He probably assumed that I was going to cut him right there in the booth, and things were starting to look up with this new angle of our conversation.
“I want you to take her a message. That’s all. A single word really, you don’t even have much to remember. Then, when she asks to see me—and she will—you’re going to do me and my partners a huge favor, and Esther will command you to do so when she understands what we are offering her.”
“O-kay”, he said slowly, like he didn’t believe there was anything under the heavens that could move his mistress from her ancient, wending route, east to west and west to east, with oceans of blood in between.
I left a ten on the table as we walked out, and I pulled a pen and paper out of my pocket. There was an address on it, and I gave him a thousand dollars in crisp hundreds as well. He’d need it. His eyes goggled at that, I imagine that Esther had little use for cash. She’d been born long before such a notion as money existed, anyway. Her currency was flesh, and it has always been a renewable resource, unlike gold, a detail that would let a ghoul like Esther hunt for eternity, as long as some other immortal didn’t render her into little points of light, judging her a menace to their public image. We walked back to the ice cream place, and there, parked in the lot, was the van I’d rented. It was bland, wholly forgettable, and had a couple of minor modifications Risa had suggested. I put a companionable hand on Ethan’s shoulder and squeezed just hard enough to ripple the muscles in my forearm.
His training as a polite boy made him stay silent, despite the strength of my grip, and I said, “And if you think not to follow those instructions perfectly, just remember—finding you is the easiest thing we’ve ever done. And finding you again? Even simpler. Do you understand?”
He looked sick. I thought that things were getting very real very quickly, which meant that he was listening. That was good. He nodded emphatically, and I lessened my grip.
He asked, “What do I need to tell her?”
“One thing first. Can you drive?” I asked, and he nodded his head yes, slightly pissed that I asked.
Of course I drive, asshole, the residual teenager in him said with his eyes. I looked around at the dark sky and the pools of light from the few buildings still lit up. It was like a puddle of starlight in an ocean of ink. The horizons were invisible, and I suddenly felt very, very lonely.
“Just tell her this—” I said, low, telling him his instructions, detailed, calmly, in a reasonable tone. Like two friends planning a day at the park. And then, when he raised his brow to ask the last word, the one that made the whole thing go click, I told him, made him repeat the unusual syllables, and then we separated, not as friends, but at the very least, as allies.
55
New Orleans: Elizabeth
There is stealth, and then there is the stealth of the Undying. Together, they moved as a pair, flowing up the decorative stairs without sound, not hasty, but not with the exaggerated slowness of a living thing that tried to be discreet. It would have been supremely unsettling, had anyone viewed it, but being invisible was part of a talent that had been cultivated over a long period of time. In the cavernous great room of her home, Elizabeth stood, with wine glass in hand, pacing across a wooden floor scarred with age. She paused occasionally to run her hands over her body, like someone
rediscovering a favorite treasure. A sheer black dress of raw silk hugged her lithe figure, and her feet were uncharacteristically bare. On the couch, a young woman with flowing black hair watched every movement, and her eyes were filled with respect and fear and even love.
“Do you need anything, Mother?” the girl asked with hesitation.
There was something to be feared in this room, but it was of an unknown quantity. The servile woman was youthful, but plain except for her enormously intelligent brown eyes. She kept her gaze downward, only raising her face to look when Elizabeth deigned to answer. Elizabeth staggered slightly, and then caught herself only to allow a rare smile to rest upon her lips. A ripple passed through her as her body rang like a tuning fork; she was becoming something new, something powerful, and right in front of Karolina. As one of Elizabeth’s daughters, her perception of the woman she considered her mother had shifted, and now Karolina knew fear of a type she thought herself incapable of only a year earlier. It was terrifying, even to a powerful Undying such as the girl who now sat mute before such waxing strength. Mother is transitioning into a Master.
“I want for nothing. Not now,” Elizabeth purred, shining with a drunken, lustful glow. “Perhaps not ever again. These beautifully designed deaths have allowed me to surmount what limitations remained upon me.” Her voice resonated with pleasure, and she shook herself again, only ending the tremor when her teeth snapped together with an audible click. “It is my era, my eternity. All is mine for the taking, and I shall do so in a way that will only make me stronger with each victory. I will begin with those three vagrant children, but only after they have endured the realization that their elder whore is withering away underground.” She was triumphant, even verging on hysteria, and her eyes were hot with rage and gloating, a ghastly compliment to her smile. The wine glass, now emptied, seemed to catch her attention, an offense to her new status. She motioned with a dismissive glance to Karolina, who stood and began striding purposefully to the table where the bottle rested.
The voice that greeted the two women from the doorway was conversational, even a bit bored. “You might want to hold off on any more wine. It seems that your celebration is a bit premature, but my mistress tells me you’ve always had poor impulse control. She feels it is part and parcel of your character flaws and merely illustrates your general stupidity.”
Elizabeth and Karolina whirled faster than any natural motion could ever be and settled instantly into defensive postures. Their collective gaze fell upon a young man dressed like a store clerk, wholly bland and unremarkable. His khaki pants and blue shirt were supremely forgettable, and he idly scratched at his clean-shaven jaw with a single lazy finger. With a supreme arrogance, the digit curled toward them with roguish invitation. Karolina’s jaws snapped wide as she spat a basilisk hiss at the intruder. A single glistening fang, long and thin, descended from her upper palate as her hands crabbed into shapes not meant for the human skeleton.
Elizabeth swiftly commanded, “Kill that swine. Now!” Even as the order crackled with authority, her gold-flecked eyes were in motion as she searched for an obvious solution to the question of how he had gained such silent entry.
He tsked ruefully, his lips pulling to the side in a sardonic grin. Behind him, in the darkened doorway, a nearly imperceptible scratching came closer. The hall was long, and the shadows deep, one in particular given to a seething motion. The blackness behind the man swirled and pulsed.
Ethan put his hands on his hips. “Seriously? A half vampire? That’s your second in command? You’ve been planning this for millennia, and you allowed three humans to thin your ranks to the point that you can’t grow a fucking vamp with two fangs?” His voice dripped derision, and he chuckled, shaking his head in amazement.
Karolina hissed again, an unfiltered hatred that carried all of her anger in one long, sibilant curse. Ethan made as if sizing Karolina up, letting a nonplussed glance graze her face. “I don’t mean to seem, well, confused, but I thought vampires were supposed to be pretty. Not just two fangs, but, you know, attractive? Your pet seems to have escaped from beauty school before her makeover. No offense,” he finished, patting the air with his hands even as his eyes stated that he most certainly hoped to offend her. Pausing in remembrance, he asked, “Do you even know why I’m here?” It was clearly rhetorical, as he plunged on, “My mistress has given you a skein of time nearly too long to measure in order to prove your worth. While you have pranced and postured before humanity, she has reveled in her true nature, tasting a torrent of blood that she herself has procured, by fang and claw . . .” He paused, the disgust on his face deepening. “And yet here you stand, clad in all the trappings of a modern princess, but with none of the titles. That is unacceptable. Further, my mistress is incensed that you seem to be too willing to delegate your activities to underlings, preferring to direct your pitiful theater from the wings. Your lovely, cultured hands are too clean, Elizabeth. Again, my mistress says this is unacceptable.” He concluded with a dismissive jerk of his hand, as if reprimanding a wayward child.
It was too much. In a blurred rush, Karolina seemed to will herself through the air, claws outstretched in daggered cages as her jaw opened even wider. Her hair snapped audibly behind her as she reached for Ethan, and then the shadow behind him flowed. A wet ripping sound emerged from under Karolina in the same second that her hands closed where Ethan had stood unmoving a bare instant earlier. Two enormous lacerations carved her entire body open, spraying silky fluids across the ceiling and wall in the looping arcs of a modernist painting. Screaming with the desperation of a mortally wounded animal, Karolina miraculously remained standing, and then the previously unseen creature that had attacked with such blinding speed mounted her perforated body before she could collapse.
A mouth opened in the aggressor’s pallid face, and a forest of long black fangs sunk into her neck, brutally crunching through vertebrae as Karolina’s head flew skyward before her body even ceased its forward motion. With a pair of moistened thumps, the vampire’s remains impacted the floor, and then inevitably began to sublime into light and ashes. The blue motes added a surreal merriment to the gore-covered room, and Ethan smiled broadly at Elizabeth, who remained frozen with the uniquely primordial fear brought on by meeting one’s literal maker. With the crackling of protesting joints of joints, the mercurial killer came to a rest and posed in thought, as if considering how to best deal with the problem before her. Her inhuman focus drew down on Elizabeth, who stammered once, and fell momentarily silent after uttering a single word. Esther.
The ghoul smiled, a horrifying display of teeth as her long, floral tongue quested for tidbits of blood that dappled her mottled skin, pulled taut over a predatory face. Esther’s long, putrescent curtain of coal black hair was twisted into an ersatz braid, hanging limply across the knobby gulf of one collarbone and breast. She was fully nude, and it made her majestically terrifying, revealing a maze of skin marred with scars and unknowable protrusions. Willowy bones were very close to the surface, indifferently coiled with ropy muscles wrapped tightly on a lean body, and when she moved, every aspect of her screamed death. At some level, Elizabeth knew what was happening, but her centuries of arrogance slowed any response to the irresistible fate that began to move languidly toward her. Ethan laughed again, a long, victorious peal that was more funeral dirge than joyful proclamation.
“My mistress has been uncomfortable during our trip to your home, but I think that we will find this place most accommodating.” He looked around the stately surroundings with a proprietary eye. “Much more comfortable than where we have been.” Elizabeth’s feet betrayed her flagging will as she took a small series of bird-like hops to one side and backward, and then coming to a stop when her outstretched hand reached a cream-colored wall.
“This is my place. You have no idea who stands before you, ghoul. Nor do you, human. Helper.” Elizabeth’s tone left no doubt of her opinions about Ethan and his position. “Karolina was a naïf. You will find me a
bitter pill to swallow, but if you leave, you may not be forced to discover how caustic my hospitality can be.” Some semblance of her haughtiness was returning, as the act of speaking arrogantly seemed to buttress her sagging confidence. With a flick of one shapely brow, she pushed on, asking, “Just where have you brought this creature from, boy? And why?” Her attitude of primacy returned, and she directed the questions at Ethan with the imperious grace of a regent.
The response was not what she had envisioned. “I think that will be enough of your posturing, Elizabeth.” Ethan’s delivery was confident, smooth, and utterly devoid of kindness despite the tone. The ghoul looked back at Ethan, who bowed his head and withdrew a long step. Elizabeth tensed, readying her body for attack, and for the first time in her memory, she was afraid. With a slow, deliberate swivel, the ghoul turned her unholy gaze to the woman who had only moments before thought that she was ascending toward the crown of Hell. The ghoul coughed hard and then spat on the floor, a lurid gobbet of blood and meat that sizzled gently in the light. She hacked twice more and then thrummed in her throat like a cat poised to leap. With a final short, violent growl, the disturbing noise ceased and she discharged a single, ancient word in a voice scarred by murder and time. “Khoweta.” The ghoul drew a shallow breath and repeated the alien word, “Khoweta.”
Frenzy choked Elizabeth’s voice even as her feet began to move again. “Where did you learn that?” Her eyes rolled wildly as she sensed the darkness closing and began to plot her trajectory through a door, a window, anything to be away from her name, her original name, and the one thing that could only be known by an Undying directly within her bloodline.
Ethan smiled blandly, enjoying her consternation. “You simply cannot believe how organized whores can be. Or rather, the woman you brand a whore, I deem to be rather pleasant. Quite useful, and a really nice girl when you get to know her. She keeps a diary, too, filled with all of your years of boasts. You simply couldn’t resist, even knowing that she might keep everything for later use. She’s practically drawn a map of your arrogance, you fool. Who knew she would be so organized?”
Demon Master 2 (The Demon Master Series) Page 21