Knocked out, he fell backward, and Lilly watched him hit the ground.
As she calmed her heartbeat, her breathing, clarity came upon her.
She hadn’t killed Nigel, because who would be called to take his place until her cousins came of age? But if her brother should discover that she had any role in orchestrating Claudia’s ouster, he would be justified in terminating her.
It was time for the backup plan.
She unhooked the tuner from her belt, then moved toward him. She would have to make certain no one ever knew what she had been doing, and if that included using the tuner to adjust Nigel’s mind and to tame Della and the other girls into subservience—if they managed to do away with Claudia—Lilly would take up the necessity of it.
It was for the good of the future, she thought. The ends justify the means.
But what if those girls, even while tamed, began to question if Mihas was aware of Claudia’s blood baths?
Lilly didn’t even flinch as she connected one end of the tuner to Nigel. She would see to that, as well, because Mihas needed to command these soldiers at all costs.
Yet she was quite sure that, should the girls think too much and turn on Mihas as they were doing with Claudia, he would have them in hand with his great charms. Their psychological makeup assured that they were the types who needed a protector, and since Mihas required them just as much—he could not cope with adult relationships, as far as Lilly saw—she was counting on their symbiotic neediness to win the night.
Everything would work out, she thought, for Mihas had always been the hungriest of soldiers. She only had to find a way to remind him of the time when he was the terror of the battlefield.
She finished with Nigel, binding him with restraints, reviving him, then tuning him, his eyes closed afterward as he adjusted to the absence of these last fifteen minutes. Then she watched the monitor screens, where the gnawing, famished girls had wounded Claudia, slowing down the old vampire as she made her way to an Underground exit. A quirk of regret actually dug into Lilly as she saw how desperately Claudia fought back.
Really, the old vampire had been fighting throughout her entire existence.
Pity the creature, Lilly thought, as, while keeping up with the action, she also began to access a new batch of recent Highgate recordings—these focused on the cemetery.
It wasn’t even that Lilly disliked Claudia. It was nothing personal at all. There was actually more to the vampire than Della or any of the girls would ever know, and in many ways, Lilly admired the old beast for her perseverance and loyalty.
Truthfully, if Lilly had just included one key vision for Della’s viewing pleasure—one more tale, this one unblurred and unadulterated—Della might have found a spot of sympathy for the housematron, even as the girl warped into the fearful instrument that would hopefully bring about the moment when Mihas would have to make a choice between his darlings and Claudia....
ONCE, centuries ago, before any of the other tales, there was a tent of rough silk, its walls billowing in the night as, in the distance, the primal laughter of newly made vampires rode the air.
Out in the woods, they were on the hunt, yet inside the tent, one of the young blood brothers was testing his new powers.
As he dripped blood from a gutted rabbit onto his flesh, he found that his pores opened to drink. But the sustenance did not seem to feed him, survivalwise, as much as it fulfilled another appetite that the vampire could not yet name.
He heard the sound of paws hitting the ground outside as another creature galloped out of the woods, and he used his senses to identify the other.
His blood stirred in his veins.
Then, the second newly made creature arrived at the tent, whipping open the entrance, revealing a face with golden eyes and a wide, pointedly charming smile.
The first vampire’s pulse tripped, reveling in secret joy to see the other.
And it was always secret, he thought. It was never revealed, for the cost would be heavy if the other blood brothers—or especially the morally upright dragon who had exchanged with them and given them this new life—were ever to discover it. They might think it a sin, just as the first vampire feared it truly was.
As the other creature entered, the first one raised his arm, showing how his pores drank of the blood.
“Wonders never cease,” the other said, drawing closer to inspect the miracle. “Each of us is different in some ways, yet the same when it comes to blood appetites and allegiances to our sovereign.”
Along the edges of the tent, the first vampire’s white cat—a remnant left by his deceased wife—slunk from corner to corner. He had given great care to the animal, had often understood how the feline seemed to keep secrets behind its mysterious gaze.
“I gather,” he said, “that we have taken on the aspects for which we feel an affinity. You have always been the wolf of the battlefield, hence your abilities....”
Indeed, the wolfish vampire glanced hungrily at the white feline slinking round the tent, then grinned at his comrade, letting him know that he would graciously spare the pet.
“And you, the cat,” the blood brother said. “Clever, cryptic, always quietly planning new strategies.”
The night outside was hushed, and as the first vampire put aside the rabbit he was holding, the second one came even nearer.
The first creature’s blood thumped so loudly he knew it consumed the air. “Mihas ...”
As Mihas reached out, resting his fingertips on the first vampire’s flesh, the skin drinker wondered if they would ever be able to speak aloud of what was between them. Mihas’s wife, all his mistresses and secret male lovers... There were times when the first vampire wondered just how much his companion truly felt the love he often professed behind locked doors.
Even now, he could see a waning interest in Mihas’s gaze. He had already moved ahead to the next conquest, the possibilities brought by this new existence.
But the first vampire would not be left behind—not when they were surely meant to be together. Why, both of them even had so many emerging talents in common, such as the instinct to assume animal forms as well as to summon creatures when required.
They were two of a kind, and the first vampire believed he had found a way to ensure their unity.
“There are methods,” he said, “we might use to be together more freely.”
“Are there?” Mihas asked in a whisper as his fingers drifted to his comrade’s throat. He was intrigued.
The first vampire’s hope expanded. “You change from what seems like a man to another form when you hunt, do you not?”
“I do.”
“And I am comfortable as the hunting cat creature... and as something else, as well, I have found.” Other blood brothers had shown a talent for shifting into diverse humanlike forms thus far, and this vampire had found it had a more limited inclination, as well.
“Yes?” Mihas asked, insistent.
“I am able,” he said, excitement churning in his chest, “to alter more than my hunting form.”
Mihas had become absolutely enthralled, and the first vampire contained his joy.
“Is this true?” Mihas asked. “How so?”
“You said yourself that each of us is different in some ways. We all have personal strengths that have been carried over into these altered bodies.”
Slowly, he concentrated on changing, as he had been learning to, bit by bit, these past few nights.
And when he was finished, Mihas’s gaze was burning.
The first vampire’s flesh seemed to waver under his companion’s perusal—the intensity. The longing.
He did not even mind that what Mihas was now seeing was not his true self, for Mihas was all his, and this was what mattered most.
Now Mihas would not be thinking of those other lovers and more stimulating adventures to be had. He was seeing what the first vampire would, in the future, genuinely believe to be an “it” stage of being—a compromise to be reached until
Mihas realized that all he needed was standing in front of him.
Then there would be no more need for “it.”
“Is this possible?” Mihas whispered as he looked at the new body: The more delicate face, still strong yet also feminine. The breasts under the rough shirt. The slender waist.
“For as long as we need it to be,” the first vampire said, thinking to adjust its voice to fit its outward manner. “There will be no more hiding for us once we have left our old lives behind. Until then, we make do.”
“Tell me,” Mihas added, “can you alter yourself further?”
The first creature did not understand.
Then, as it noticed how its companion’s teeth had grown even longer, saliva wetting his fangs, comprehension dawned.
Younger. Mihas wished it could be even younger. He loved women, but his dalliances with maids far and wide testified to his affinity for the young.
The first vampire tried to alter itself further, yet from the look on Mihas’s face, he was not entirely pleased.
It rushed to the bed, where it had placed a mirror. It saw a girl in the reflection—its hair in lush curls, its features even smaller and more immature. Yet there was a lack of freshness, a wisdom in its eyes that told of too much experience.
“No matter,” Mihas said, coming up behind the first vampire. “The initial form is fine. Your talent is very fine, Claudius.”
And as Claudius took him at his word and changed back into the older female form, where its mature gaze would not seem so unnatural, Mihas embraced him.
Perhaps his comrade genuinely was enamored with its new, though necessarily adult, appearance.
However, years down the roads they traveled, with Claudius passing himself off as “Claudia,” Mihas’s mistress, or even going back to his own male form as a helpful valet, Mihas grew tired of the charade. Even after they settled down to make their own community of dragon-mandated vampires, he turned to other, truly younger pursuits, as he never did grow older in mind or temperament.
He wished for the new as he became old, and Claudius, who in later years had become Claudia so fully that it would not have recognized its true self even if it changed back into its other half full-time, knew that this womanly form was not enough. Even the blood baths, which seemed to temporarily return it to the twenty-eight-year-old glow it had started with all those years ago when it had first been turned, did not work for as long as they used to.
There was no way to make Mihas believe that it was younger.
Still, the first vampire would never stop believing that there would come a day when Mihas would love Claudius as Claudius loved him. And he never stopped hoping, even as Mihas’s Underground grew with lovely young girls who would take centuries to become as old as it was now.
Even as Claudius heard society call people like him an “it.” And he believed them, losing all sense of who he truly was, solely for the benefit of someone else....
LILLY was still watching the screens and keeping tabs on a resting Nigel when one of the girls—she couldn’t see which of them—nearly ripped off Claudia’s head just before the old vampire used her shredded legs and the last of her strength to propel herself out the exit.
Then she watched the girls tussle among themselves about going after their housematron to see if she was indeed terminated. But the custode had an advantage that they didn‘t—she could access a camera hidden in the ground near the Underground door, and she could see the old vampire speeding away as fast as she could manage with those unhealed legs, and hiding among a copse of trees before one cat-wolf vampire popped her head out to see if Claudia was still round.
My, my, Lilly thought. The girls had certainly been brassed off, hadn’t they? Imagine, nearly decapitating Claudia. They were strong, fast, lethal bitches, and the Underground would be better off because of them as soon as Mihas got his girls under some real control.
Meanwhile, Lilly diligently went to work on reviewing Highgate Cemetery footage from nearly a week ago, waiting to see if Claudia would contact the custodes for aid and refusing to move from her seat until the call came.
If it ever would.
TWENTY-THREE
THE LION AND THE LAMB
THE Lion and the Lamb Pub had a couple of its upper-level windows bricked up, showing that the structure had been here for a while because there used to be a tax on the amount of windows for each residence and the dwellers had gotten around having to pay more by blocking up windows.
It was a sign of ingenuity if Dawn had ever seen one. Still, the sight was unsettling, mainly because it reminded her of that Edgar Allan Poe story where a guy was bricked up behind a wall, screaming to get out.
And that must’ve been pretty close to what Natalia had gone through just a few minutes ago, Dawn thought as she and Jonah prepared to enter the pub, sticking together this time for security since they might be that much closer to an Underground. For the new girl, there had been a wall of sound pushing at her temples, and now that Dawn thought about it, Costin had something pressing at him, too, with such force that it bricked him up inside that body of his.
She walked toward the pub’s door, reminding herself that she needed to remember that Costin hadn’t necessarily wanted to even retreat back inside his body earlier. She needed to do everything she could to empathize with him instead of falling into some trap of resentment about how he was too content to wait in the shadows, as he always did.
As she and Jonah entered the building, she realized that he was also walled into that body and was only doing everything he could to keep from being buried, too.
Maybe they all were buried in some way.
She scanned the place. Unlike the outside, things seemed pretty homey with a flag floor and country pub atmosphere. Hell, there was even a puppy resting its sleepy head on its oversized paws near the door.
Then, as they got farther in, the rest of it hit her: the sight of over thirty young girls hanging around a large back room, mingling with people who resembled Dawn and Jonah in their tourist disguises.
She noted that none of the patrons were from the vampire schoolgirl group who’d attacked them the other night at Queenshill. And, praise it all, there weren’t any shadow things flitting about, either.
Even so, were these girls the reason for Natalia’s radar going off?
For a second, Dawn toyed with the idea of opening her mind to Jonah so they could communicate silently, but if they were close to an Underground, she didn’t want to risk giving off strange vibes that any vampires might pick up.
But she did shut off her pulser, using the remote device in her pocket. And the instant she was away from Jonah, she was going 013-41117 _ch01_4P.indd 268 5/22/09 12:22:57 PM to display her crucifix necklace, just to see if she got any reaction from the girls.
She leaned over to her damnable temporary partner, talking over the driving beat of a Rihanna song coming from a jukebox in the corner.
“Estrogen galore,” she said.
He leaned over to answer. “I noticed.”
His words brushed against her ear, making her cross her arms over her chest. But there was no other safe way to communicate, so she rolled with it, giving the back room an even more detailed sweep now that they were nearer: Girls at a pool table, playing snooker. Girls laughing with some guys who seemed like American frat boys as they tossed darts at a board.
Interesting that none of the gals—whom Dawn assumed were either old enough to drink or were carrying fake IDs—had any beverages near them. That was odd for a pub. Plus, their skin was more than the average shade of pale.
After doing the math, the evidence really did seem to equal a reason for Natalia to go on radar overload. Before tonight, the most she’d encountered at one time was the four Queenshill vamps during a stealth visit. But now, the psychic had obviously sensed way more than a small group.
Dawn kept watching the girls without looking like she was doing it, yet at the same time, she thought of how they’d have to train Nat
alia to withstand her radar in the future.
If there was much of a future ahead of them.
She jerked her chin toward the bar, and she and Jonah went over there, standing instead of sitting on the stools.
A barmaid—her curly brown hair sprinkled with gray, crow‘s-feet liberally camping out around her dark blue eyes—came right over.
After ordering two pints of cider, just so they would fit in with the human crowd, Dawn made chitchat as the woman drew their drinks from a tap.
“Young clientele here.”
Dawn noticed that the barmaid kept glancing at Jonah about every two seconds, even though his back was to her. He was standing out, all right, such a cool customer in those purple-tinted glasses.
“These your regulars?” Dawn added.
The barmaid set their drinks on two coasters decorated with ugly, big-nosed creatures carrying axes and advertising Hobgoblin British Ale, and Dawn paid up while the woman answered.
“We seem to attract the young girls. Even though they’re old enough, they’re not much for drinking. But the owner doesn’t mind them here all the time—they bring the boys like you wouldn’t believe, and they put away pint after pint.”
Now Dawn realized why Natalia had gotten vibes even when they’d visited the Highgate Cemetery over a week ago—it’d probably been all these girls swarming the nearby pub.
Either the barmaid knew exactly who they were but was lying about it, or she was telling the truth and the possible vampires were keeping their activities under wraps.
Should Jonah look into her mind to see if she was fibbing? Or would that be a red-flag alert?
Dawn decided to just go on questioning, keeping that all-powerful element of surprise for when they needed it the most—during a final attack.
She wrapped her fingers around the sweating glass of cider but didn’t drink. Meanwhile, the barmaid kept checking out Jonah’s back, as if hoping he’d turn around.
The Path of Razors Page 24