“You are a hero,” the cabbie said.
Lazarus scowled at him in the mirror, but the cabbie did not look away.
“You saved the two children,” the cabbie persisted. “And that mother with a baby in her stroller.”
Lazarus sighed and handed the Post back to the cabbie.
“You like to grab a bite on the way home?” the cabbie said.
Lazarus examined his bloody trench coat, the scabs all over his hands. “I’m not fit to be seen.”
“I will go in,” the cabbie said. “I will get it for you.”
“Now why would you do a thing like that?”
The cabbie stopped at a red light and turned in his seat. “Because you did the right thing. I would like to do this for you.”
Lazarus held the man’s gaze. Then he chuckled softly. “Okay, Mister …”
“Patel,” the man said. “Esam Patel.”
“Alright, Mr. Patel. Whatever you want to pick up, I’ll eat.” He patted his pockets. “Oh, but I don’t have any—”
“I will pay,” Esam Patel said. “I pay and you eat.”
Smiling, Lazarus laid his head on the seatback. “It’s a deal, Mr. Patel. Thanks.”
“Esam,” the cabbie corrected.
“Esam,” Lazarus said. His stomach growled.
And as the cab pulled forward again, Lazarus closed his eyes and thought of Jillian.
Eddie Maza had been lost for more than a dozen hours. He’d always prided himself on his sense of direction, but down here, with only his failing cigarette lighter to illumine his way, he had nothing to orient him, no landmarks or stars to help him find his way. He knew he should be working his way up, but he couldn’t seem to locate a single ladder that led upward. Furthermore, most of the tunnels to which he came terminated in dead ends or moved him in circles. And on the two occasions he had happened upon a ladder, the damn things had led down, deeper into the abyss.
Eddie refused to go any lower.
Of course, he might have to descend soon if the scuttling sounds drew any nearer.
In the confusion that had occurred right after he shot Ed Danks and Lou Carboni, Eddie had simply frozen for a few seconds, his mind a blank, his body apparently unwilling to move. This had never happened to him, which was maybe why he was so angry now.
Danks had somehow gotten away. Eddie had no idea how it had happened because he was certain he’d gotten the big bastard right in the guts. And the unmoving way the guy had lain there afterwards …
Yet when Eddie stumbled upon Lou Carboni’s body later on—drained of blood, of course—Ed Danks’s corpse had been gone. Sure, it was possible the vampires had hauled him to the body chute and dropped him down into it, but if that was the case, why hadn’t they done the same thing to Lou? So Danks could be dead, but he might also have escaped.
But Danks wasn’t even the worst of it. If Eddie had merely been sloppy, well, that would be infuriating, but it was still correctable. Messes could always be cleaned, loose ends tied up.
But letting the women get away, that was something else entirely. That was more than sloppy—that was flat-out stupid. And by now those two broads had likely found a way out of this hellhole and were walking around up there bragging to each other about how they’d outsmarted him. That galled him. Eddie hadn’t said much to Jillian Alcott, but he could tell she was afraid of him. Frankie Canelli had scared her, sure, but that was because Frankie was constantly running off at the mouth and because of his penchant for torturing people. But Frankie had never understood the big picture, and really, if Frankie was as dead as Eddie assumed him to be, the world was better off without him.
The guy had been a loudmouth.
Eddie, however, knew how to keep his mouth shut.
It’s what had allowed him to become a trusted advisor to Benito Carboni. No one but Benito himself knew that Eddie was such a high-ranking figure in the organization, but that was the point, nobody needed to know. It was enough for Eddie to know that the big guy trusted him with all the secrets, trusted him enough to keep an eye on yesterday’s operation in case it got botched.
Eddie frowned. Man, did it ever get botched.
Lou had been a fool. Had Eddie taken charge after they’d kidnapped the Alcott girl, none of this would have happened. He would’ve shot that limo driver the moment the guy started acting weird. Put the gun right to his temple and BAM, the driver wouldn’t have gotten a chance to turn bloodsucker on them. But Lou went along with it, the circumstances changing too fast for him to react, and Eddie had made the mistake of letting Lou remain in charge.
He remembered the surprised look on Lou’s face when Eddie had shot him. It made Eddie grin.
Hot breath puffed on the back of Eddie’s neck.
His grin evaporated.
He whirled, gun drawn, but something caught his hand, squeezed, and the gun dropped to the concrete with a dull clunk. The pain in his hand was the worst feeling imaginable, like a million white-hot nails were being driven into his flesh and bones.
Eddie sank to his knees, moaning, and peered up into a face so white that it seemed to glow in the dark, the face of a ghost. Only this ghost was deformed. Its face was twisted, badly burned. The mouth drooped badly on the left side. On the other side of the mouth things were even worse; much of the flesh there had been incinerated. The result was a permanent grimace of pain. Or a hideous smile. The burn damage continued the rest of the way up the face, but the eyes were the worst part of all. They were a shocking iridescent swirl of orange and silver, the eyes of a vengeful demon. Eddie looked away, shivering uncontrollably.
But the ghost said, “Look at me.”
Still shivering, Eddie looked up.
“You murdered those men,” the ghost’s cultured voice said. It shocked Eddie, that voice coming from such a gruesome face.
Eddie nodded.
“They were your coworkers.”
Eddie nodded, tears running down his face from the pain in his crushed hand but still unable to look away.
“They served another master. Your former master.”
“Former master,” Eddie repeated blankly. A funny thing was happening. He was staring into the mad eyes that glittered within the hideous white face, and as he did those eyes seemed to take away the unholy pain in his hand, seemed to make everything go away. His pain, his terror.
Even his desire to escape.
“You will serve a new Master now,” the face said.
Eddie nodded. Yes, he decided. He would like to serve a new Master. Would like that very much.
He was lifted off the floor, and there was a gushing heat in his throat, and then his vision went gray. The ghost moved Eddie’s body and stared at him. Eddie looked back at the white face through groggy eyes.
“If you want to live, if you want to serve … if you want to become one of my chosen ones … you must drink.”
Something appeared before the white face. Eddie realized it was a bleeding wrist. Eddie put his mouth on it, felt the hot liquid squirt down his throat. Salty … coppery … but not unpleasant. No … far, far from unpleasant.
Eddie drank.
“Yes,” the Master whispered. “Yes. You will be one of my chosen. You will be loyal. And together we will destroy Bloodshot …”
Still drinking, Eddie grinned.
“… and we will rule the night,” the Master said.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
* * *
Jonathan Janz grew up between a dark forest and a graveyard, and in a way, that explains everything. Brian Keene named his debut novel The Sorrows “the best horror novel of 2012.” The Library Journal deemed his follow-up, House of Skin, “reminiscent of Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House and Peter Straub’s Ghost Story.”
Samhain Horror published The Darkest Lullaby, his third novel, in April. His serialized horror thriller Savage Species will be released in early September. His vampire western Dust Devils will be published in February 2014. In the summer of 2014, his sequ
el to The Sorrows (Castle of Sorrows) will be released. He has also written three novellas (The Clearing of Travis Coble, Old Order, and Witching Hour Theatre) and several short stories.
His primary interests are his wonderful wife and his three amazing children, and though he realizes that every author’s wife and children are wonderful and amazing, in this case the cliché happens to be true. You can learn more about Jonathan at www.jonathanjanz.com. You can also find him on Facebook, via @jonathanjanz on Twitter, or at his Goodreads and Amazon author pages.
Bloodshot: Kingdom of Shadows (Kindle Worlds) Page 19