“When you put it all together…”
“That’s not counting the Ancients, either. And where is Henry?”
“The Ancients ain’t nothing to play around with. All I ever heard was rumors, but I figured out a few things.”
“Yeah?”
“I wasn’t lying when I told Jordan about dying. It’s terrible, Sam. And when I was born again, I was … well, you know what it’s like. It lasted a long time. I’m talking decades. It finally went away, but sometimes, I guess, it never goes away. Silas never got over it. He was an asshole, but maybe it wasn’t all his fault. Once I could think straight, I got to noticing how the way I thought about things had changed.”
I stopped at a red light. “Like what?”
“The longer I lived, the tougher I got. Stronger. Faster. Think about the Ancients. After that many years, how strong would a vampire get? How tough?”
“Don’t forget smart,” I said.
Desmond grunted. “That kind of strength and that kind of smarts? It made me think about something else.”
“What’s that?”
“Maybe that’s why I never met no really old vampires. Maybe the Ancients do something about them.”
“I thought that was common knowledge.”
“Shit, I was hoping you were gonna argue with me. No, it ain’t common knowledge.”
“Jack told me that vampires tend to go nuts after a certain age, and the Ancients keep them from causing trouble.”
“If that’s true, how did the Ancients get to be so old without the whole world knowing about them?”
“The world was different back then,” I said. “Smaller, I guess. Fewer people. Superstitious.”
“Or maybe the Ancients have been lying, and they kill us before we get too old.”
“Henry is the oldest vampire I’ve ever met. If they’re in town and he’s missing, maybe they decided he is a threat.”
Desmond shook his head. “All the years I been on this earth, and I ain’t got any answers. All I know is that Garski needs to pay.”
“But not before we get Callie back.”
“Of course, man. We got to get her back.”
I turned left onto Cortland, just to the north of Saint Mary of the Angels. “Desmond? You ever get the feeling there’s a whole lot of people who know more about things than you do?”
Desmond smiled grimly. “I been dead and I been risen, but I feel like that all the damned time.”
I pulled the Chevy to the curb and turned off the engine. “I’m going to find an answer. At least about Callie.”
I got out and softly closed the door. Desmond got out and stepped around the truck. I raised an eyebrow. “I thought we discussed this. You can’t enter.”
Desmond nodded across the darkened street. “I know, but just in case, I’ll walk you to the gate.”
We crossed the street. As we neared the iron fence, Desmond slowed and then stopped. “This is as far as I can go,” he said through gritted teeth. “Be careful in there.”
I turned to the vampire I had only known for a handful of hours. “If I don’t come back out, find Callie and help her.”
“Is that it?”
I shook my head. “No. Then I want you to make them pay.”
* * *
The church’s back door was unlocked. I took one last look at Desmond standing at the iron fence, nodded at him, and went inside.
The hallway was dark, but I could make out enough detail to guide me down the hall. When I came to the door Burzynski had led me through earlier in the day, I turned right and headed deeper into the church. I went a handful of steps farther before noticing a light from under a door to my left. It was quiet, but I could sense someone inside.
When I opened the door, Burzynski was sitting at an oak rolltop desk. He glanced up, and his eyes widened. “Mr. Harlan?”
I turned, quietly closed the door, and then carefully locked it. “Ray? Do you mind if I call you Ray?”
Burzynski watched me lock the door. “What are you … doing?”
“I’m going to call you Ray. Ray, I need to know where Garski is. Is he here?”
“I don’t think—”
“Is he here?”
“You can’t—”
“Ray,” I said slowly, “it’s a simple question. Is Garski here? Don’t make me ask you again. You won’t like it if I have to ask again.”
Something in my voice must have shaken him. “Joseph isn’t here. What’s this about?”
I took a step closer to the priest. “I wish I knew, Ray. Oh, how I wish I knew.” I glanced down and saw my hands were clenched into fists. “He took Callie.”
“He what?”
“He took her, Ray. The bastard took her.”
“He would never—”
“See, you go making statements like ‘never,’ and I can assure you that Garski did. He took Callie. Do you know who Callie is, Ray?”
Burzynski’s face had gone pale, and he licked his lips. “I know who she is. I know what she does.”
“You do, do you? You know about Katie? You know what happened to her?”
He nodded. “I know enough.”
“Who told you about them? Was it the Order?”
“What order?”
“Don’t bullshit me, Ray.”
“I … don’t know much about them,” Burzynski said. “Only what Joseph has told me.”
I took another step closer. I was now within arm’s length of the priest. “You don’t work with them?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Not … exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“We have a common goal. But the Order is secretive. Their purpose is to …”
“To what?”
“To protect the priests like me. Like Father Lewinheim. Like Father Jameson.”
I mulled it over. “And you don’t work with them. What about Garski?”
He squinted at me. “The Order doesn’t think much of hunters.”
I chuckled unpleasantly. “I’m well aware of what they think of hunters, but that didn’t really answer my question. Has Garski worked with them?”
Burzynski clenched his jaw. “I don’t like the way you’re questioning me, Mr. Harlan. I don’t know what you came here for or what you expect of me, but this conversation is finished.”
The blood rushed to my face, and the now-healed bullet wound in my back itched furiously. “You don’t want to be like that, Ray. I’m not at my best right now. You really don’t want to try my patience.”
Burzynski stood and faced me. “I know about you, Mr. Harlan. You’re a good man. Whatever you think you’re capable of, I know you would never—”
Before I realized I was moving, I had the priest’s black shirt bunched tightly in my hands, hauling him up on the tips of his toes. “Don’t make me do it, Ray. I might actually enjoy it.”
“Oh, please,” the priest scoffed. “You’re—”
My right hand drew back and struck him in his doughy middle, not hard enough to do any damage, but enough to knock the wind from him.
He woofed, doubling over in pain, and then glared up at me. “You … you will not strike a—”
I never heard him tell me what I wouldn’t strike, because my fist connected with his jaw at the speed of a fastball crossing home plate. Fortunately for him, I pulled it a little at the end, and the crack of my knuckles only stunned him instead of breaking his jaw.
Burzynski collapsed to the office floor and moaned like a child. When he could finally speak again, he said, “For God’s sake, Mr. Harlan. This isn’t you.”
Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or maybe it was my utter frustration, but I growled like an animal while I picked him up and delivered a series of open-hand slaps that snapped his head from left to right and then back again at least two times.
Or, maybe even three. To be honest, I lost count.
I let him lay there for a few seconds, and then I hauled him to his feet. “Where is Garski? You know. I know you do. Tell me where he is, Ray. Tell me!”
“No,” Burzynski managed. “I can’t—”
“I’m going to find him, Ray, and I swear, if Callie is hurt in any way, I’m going to start cutting on that lunatic until there’s nothing left of him.”
“He’s not a vampire,” Burzynski wheezed out. “He’s a human being. He has a soul. You wouldn’t.”
I grabbed the priest by the throat and raised him from the ground until his feet dangled six inches above the floor. “You’ve made a terrible mistake, Ray. You’re appealing to my better nature. After what I’ve seen and done, I no longer have a better nature. Callie is all that matters to me, and I’ll do … well, you don’t want to know what I’ll do. Where … is … Garski?”
Burzynski looked like he might cry. “I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“He’s been acting…”
“Like an asshole?”
“Strangely,” Burzynski finally said. “He’s been different. Not himself.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t…”
I drew back my hand.
“Please, Mr. Harlan. Don’t hit me again.”
“How long?”
“At least six months. It’s the pressure…”
“What pressure?”
“The vampires. It drives him mad. He’s seen so much—”
“We’ve all seen ‘much.’ Why take Callie?”
“I don’t know. It’s … look, you’ve been hunting vampires for what? Less than a year?”
I nodded.
“Imagine what you will have seen after four decades. The stress becomes … unimaginable.”
“That’s no excuse,” I said. “Callie is the best person I’ve ever met. She’s pure.”
“You’re in love with her.”
“What? No.”
“You love her,” Burzynski said. “I can see it on your face.”
“I don’t love her.”
Burzynski licked his lips. “I don’t know why Joseph took her. It might be the Order. Perhaps they’ve given him some piece of information—”
“So, he is working with the Order?”
Burzynski shook his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps he thinks she can help him eliminate the vampire threat in Chicago. That’s all he cares about. And, if you care about her, you’ll keep her far from you before you become like him.”
“I’m never becoming like him.”
“You will become exactly like him,” Burzynski said. “I’m not blaming you, just as I don’t think it makes you a bad man to love her. But don’t you see? Hunters…”
“What?”
He raised his hand. “I’ll tell you, just … please don’t hit me again.”
“Fine.”
“Hunters change. You know this. By now, you’ve experienced it. It makes you different.”
“So? It’s not like—”
“You don’t have faith. How was your spiritual life, before all this madness?”
I stared at him, and my hands released their hold on his shirt. He sank back into his chair and watched me carefully. “I lost my mother when I was just a kid,” I said. “What kind of God would allow that to happen?”
“That’s normal, Mr. Harlan.”
I took a deep breath, and it made the scar on my back itch again. “I tried not to think about it, but when my dad died, I couldn’t help but wonder if God existed.”
“Of course He exists.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve seen His … whatever you want to call it.”
“Joseph was a faithful man,” Burzynski said. “After too many vampire kills, he became … detached. That’s what happened to him, and his faith was strong. Do you see where I’m going, Mr. Harlan?”
“Killing vampires did that?”
“I’m afraid for you,” Burzynski said. “And I’m quite afraid of you. Think how Callie must feel. She lives with you, doesn’t she? She must see the changes in you.”
“I protect her…”
“Do you?” Burzynski asked. “I know this hurts to hear, Mr. Harlan, but it needs to be said. You think you protect her, but what Sister Callie really needs is protection from you.”
Chapter Fourteen
Desmond was waiting for me by the iron gate as I left the church.
“No Garski?” he asked.
I shook my head. “The priest had no idea where Garski went.”
“What about his home?”
“He doesn’t have a home,” I said. “Garski has been living in the church’s basement for the past three years.”
“Why?”
I sighed. “Burzynski said Garski has no family. No friends to speak of, either.”
Desmond frowned. “We ain’t got nothing else to go on.”
“Not exactly,” I said. “There’s someone I can ask.”
“Who?”
“She’s a … well, you’ll see.”
“You going to give me any more information than that?”
I shrugged. “Better you see for yourself.”
We got back in my truck, and I took the first left, heading south toward the Order’s bunker. We had barely gone a block when my cell phone rang. The number wasn’t familiar, and for a moment, I hoped it was Callie calling me to tell me she was okay and to come pick her up.
“Hello? Is this … Mr. Harlan?” It was an older black woman’s voice. She sounded distraught.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry to be calling so late, Mr. Harlan, but…”
“Who is this?”
“This is Maya Washington.”
The name sounded familiar, and after a second or two, it came back to me. “Aniyah’s mother. Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. “Aniyah … she tried to kill herself, Mr. Harlan.”
My hands jerked on the steering wheel, and I almost swerved into a parked Nissan Sentra. “What? How?”
“We were spending time together, Mr. Harlan. She seemed so sad, but she didn’t seem … we … we watched some kids’ shows, like the kind she used to watch when she was a girl. I had a DVD of hers that I kept in my closet hoping she might come home one day…”
“What happened?”
“I went out to get supper. It wasn’t even suppertime, but she wanted pizza and ice cream. Mint chocolate chip. She used to love mint chocolate chip. I thought she was feeling better. When I got home, she was … she was…”
“Please, Mrs. Washington. It’s okay.”
“She took a towel and hung herself from the bathroom doorknob.” She choked back a sob. “She was … staring at the wall, but her eyes were empty. She must have done it right after I left. She was hangin’ there the whole … the whole time I was gone.”
“I’m sorry, Misses Washington. I am so sorry.”
“I called the ambulance, and they worked on her. They gave her oxygen, and shots, and … I don’t know what all. She finally started breathing, but they don’t know…”
“They saved her? That’s good news.”
“What if she doesn’t wake up? What if she never wakes up?”
“You’ve done all you can,” I said. “It’s not your fault.”
“Why did she do it, Mr. Harlan? I just got her back. She … she hadn’t done nothing I couldn’t have forgiven.”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Washington.”
The phone was silent, and I kept driving south. Finally, she said, “What really happened to her, Mr. Harlan? What did my girl get into?”
“Nothing that was her fault,” I said. �
��She didn’t deserve what happened to her. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I just don’t understand what happened to her.”
Desmond watched me with pursed lips.
“I’m truly sorry,” I said. “Please, call someone. A friend, maybe. Or go to church. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
There was more silence on the phone, and then she said, “Thank you for helping her, Mr. Harlan. I just wish … I had done more to keep her safe. To keep her with me.”
The call ended, and I was left holding the phone.
“What was that about?” Desmond asked.
“You heard.”
“I didn’t—”
I sighed. “Don’t lie.”
“The girl. Was she taken by one of us?”
“A vampire named Wayne Pitcock took her and fed from her.”
“Ain’t never heard of him.”
“He wasn’t from around here.”
“It happens sometimes.”
“Girls trying to kill themselves?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant,” I said. “The feeding. It wasn’t just blood.”
“I didn’t understand it at first. I didn’t know nothing ’bout the world before Lottie gave me the gift, and after…”
“You were too busy.”
“Busy,” Desmond said softly. “You could say that. Chicago was a crazy place. There weren’t no limits on us.” His voice trailed off, and he turned to stare out the window. “By the time I tamed the hunger, I knew that the blood was different than…”
“Than what?”
“You want me to say it?”
“Yeah.”
He spun to glare at me. “Their soul. The thing that makes people more than just a meat treat. You felt that yet? You can drink the blood like one of us, but have you felt that?”
“No.”
Desmond grunted. “You know so much, Sam, but you don’t know everything. When you feed from them, it’s so much more than blood. It’s what makes you feel full. Once I realized—”
“Bullshit.”
“What?”
“You were going to say that you had stopped doing it once you realized you were feeding from their souls, and that’s bullshit.”
“Listen here—”
“I’m not even thirty, Desmond, but you know how old I feel? I feel like I’ve aged twenty years in the past nine months. I know a hell of a lot more than I used to. No, you didn’t stop feeding on their souls.”
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