“Good,” Two said. “OK, Stephen, you’re right. Giving up and dying isn’t an option. But this had better work. I want back in. This humanity shit just isn’t doing it for me at all.”
* * *
“You’re sure you can do this?” Naomi asked, concern in her voice. Two found her worry amusing; only the night before, this same woman had intentionally attacked Two and nearly killed her.
Two lit a cigarette. She could hear L’Obscurité throbbing just across the street. Naomi’s apartment looked directly down upon the entrance.
“Yeah, I’m OK. Little shaky, is all. I appreciate the chicken, but I need more food. I could just go home if you don’t want me coming back to your place.”
“I do not think it is safe for you at home. I have my doubts that I’m the first vampire to notice you and your search. There are many Burilgi in this city. Hundreds, maybe, but you would not have identified them like you did me. Many look like normal humans. The others are so disfigured that they try to stay out of sight.”
“Well, then this is the other option. We hit the bodega, and I grab some burritos, a pack of smokes, and a six-pack of beer.”
“Perhaps you could round out your vices with a box of condoms and a copy of Hustler,” Naomi said. Her voice was dry, but when Two glanced at her, there was a ghost of a smile on the vampire’s lips. Two laughed.
“I’m not the most perfect person in the world,” she admitted. “Theroen saved me from a bad place.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” Naomi replied. “We all have our demons.”
“Yeah, I guess. You seem to have done pretty well for yourself since what happened with Lisette.”
Naomi glanced down at her, raised an eyebrow.
“Did he tell you much about those days? About … us?”
“You and Lisette?”
“Lisette and me. Theroen and me. Lisette and Theroen.”
“Yes and no. He told me the important stuff, I think. I didn’t get a day-by-day account of your adventures, but I know how he met Lisette, and how he met you.”
A faint blush rose in Naomi’s cheeks. Her eyes were far away. “I never loved him like Lisette did, but Theroen and I had our moments.”
Two sighed. “I loved him like Lisette did.”
“I believe that,” Naomi replied. “One does not attack an elder like Abraham without good reason.”
Two shook her head. “No, definitely not. I killed him for what he did to Theroen. Not just at the end, but all the way through … he murdered Lisette. He kept Theroen locked away from the vampire world. He created these deranged sisters and forced Theroen to take care of them. He tried to kill me just as a parting gift to his son. He was evil. He was purposely, consciously evil, and he enjoyed every minute of it.”
Naomi nodded. “I know. I have spent more time in Abraham’s presence than I would wish on anyone. It galls me that I never guessed at his involvement in Lisette’s death.”
“Not much you could’ve done anyway,” Two said. She could see their destination, a small grocery and convenience shop of the type that could be found all over the city, at the end of the block.
“No? You were able to do something.”
“I didn’t know anything about your laws, and I had a ton of luck on my side. Luck and heroin.”
“What?”
“That’s how I did it. I had heroin available to me, strong stuff, uncut. I managed to throw some of it at his face and he breathed a lot of it in. It uh … fucked him up pretty good.”
Understanding dawned on Naomi’s face. “Of course! Eresh vampires don’t handle opiates well at all. Something in the chemical composition causes a lot of structural damage.”
“Yeah. Enough damage that when the time came, I managed to cut his head off.”
“Two, that’s fantastic.”
Two shook her head. “No, it was horrible. Theroen was dead. Melissa was dead. Tori was nuts. Even after Tori got better, she went home to her parents. I had no one left.”
“Surely you have other friends?”
“A few, yeah. None who could understand.”
Naomi considered this. “So you withdrew from them and went hunting for someone like me.”
They had reached the bodega. Two pitched her cigarette butt into the gutter and nodded.
“Yeah,” she said. “Hunting. Exactly.”
* * *
The plastic bags crackled at Two’s side as they walked. One contained a six-pack of beer, the other a bag of chips, three huge beef burritos from a brand called Captain Chorizo, and a carton of Camel lights.
“What’s happened to Tori?” Naomi asked.
Two shrugged. “She’s in Ohio, living a normal life with her parents. Took her a while to turn human again. Actually, I guess it never fully happened. She got her brain back and she doesn’t need blood anymore, but she’s crazy strong and fast. Theroen said she was really physically advanced for a vampire her age to begin with, and I don’t think she lost much of it in the conversion back. I get letters sometimes. Emails.”
“Does she miss being a vampire?”
Two hesitated. “I don’t think so? She’s never said so, anyway, but she has started talking about how restless she is. Could just be Ohio doing that to her, though. Lima’s … not New York.”
“Was she with you when you disposed of Abraham?”
“Yeah. I think she saved my life, actually. She bought me a couple more minutes, and I think if he’d gotten to me before that, the heroin wouldn’t have done enough yet. I chopped his head off, but it was like hitting stone, even after the drugs were in him. Hurt my arm really bad.”
“I imagine so. An Eresh-Chen more than two thousand years old? It’s a miracle that you weren’t killed.”
Two shrugged. Miracle it might have been, but at the time she had simply been acting on instinct, as was so often the case.
“Do you know about the vampire races?”
“Theroen told me some of it. I know there are four of them, and that you’re the second type … starts with ‘A’ I think.”
“Ashayt, yes. Lisette was an Ashayt vampire, and so am I. We are the poet caste, not as strong as the Eresh or Ay’Araf, but skilled in other areas. Our senses, particularly our sight and hearing, are very good indeed.”
“Poet caste?”
“Oh, that’s just from the scrolls. There are certain proclivities that run in the bloodlines. The Eresh are usually very strong, mentally and physically, and the majority of them are very wise and balanced people, though I’m sure you can think of one glaring exception. Ashayt vampires are often writers, poets, painters … people who love the arts. Stephen is an Ay’Araf, the warrior caste. They love physical competition of all sorts.”
“That explains the basketball,” muttered Two.
Naomi nodded. “Yes, and the soccer. And the football. And the rugby … and even baseball, though he says it’s not a true sport since there’s so little physical contact. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Stephen watch any television outside of the sport networks.”
“Doesn’t that get old? How long have you been living together?”
Naomi shook her head. “We do not ‘live together.’ Stephen is a guest in my apartment for the time being. The council has him here in New York because somehow, despite his personality, he holds a great deal of sway with American Ay’Araf. There are some minor internal struggles happening right now, and a friend and fellow council member requested that he come to America for a few years.”
“He sounds Irish. I guess he hasn’t been here very long?”
“He moves back and forth. He’ll spend a decade in Ireland, then a few years here, then a year back in Ireland, then another five years here … it gets quite maddening, actually, trying to keep track of where he is.”
“The council is making him stay with you?”
“No. I … Stephen and I have been friends for a long time and I don’t mind the company from time to time. I’ve not really lived with anyone, in the
sense you mean, since Lisette died and Theroen returned to Abraham. But I enjoy his visits. On the surface, he can be aggravating, but there’s a good man down below.”
“Ah. So are you two, you know … together?”
Naomi smiled. “No. Even if we were romantic, there is no ‘together’ for Stephen. I’m lucky to still be able to make love, Two. Most Ashayt and even a good deal of Eresh vampires can’t. I don’t believe I’ve ever encountered an Ay’Araf who is capable in that department.”
“Oh, right. Theroen mentioned that it was uncommon. I guess my idea of what being a vampire is like is sort of different.”
“Quite. You are the first Eresh-Chen in almost five hundred years. There will not be another until such time as you make a fledgling.”
“Which will be kind of difficult if we can’t convince your council to bend the rules.”
They had reached Naomi’s building. She held the door open for Two, smiling confidently. “We shall convince them.”
* * *
The rest of the evening moved by with startling speed. Naomi excused herself to go feed, and Stephen said he’d already done so but should she want to bring anything home that wasn’t a child of Eresh, he wouldn’t complain. Naomi told him she would do no such thing.
Two ate her second meal, went outside for another cigarette, and returned to lie down on the couch and watch basketball with Stephen. She didn’t ask him questions, and he didn’t offer any commentary of his own, other than to occasionally yell at the television. Two could sense, though, that he was impressed with her unexpected silence.
Her time working with Darren had taught Two a lot about reading people’s personalities. She thought that she understood Stephen, and wanted to use this understanding to stay in his good graces. If he had the ear of the council, she wanted him to say positive things about her should they ask him about this human girl who wanted to be a vampire. So she stayed quiet, and after a time Stephen made conversation on his own, as Two had thought he might.
She had been half-asleep on the couch – a plush, luxurious, overstuffed piece of furniture upholstered in something that felt like a cross between flannel and corduroy – daydreaming about how it would be when she was a vampire again. She would be strong, confident, unafraid. Two was certain of this. She wondered how Tori would react, and was drifting off to sleep pondering this when Stephen’s shout woke her up.
“Pass the Christ-forsaken ball, ye great drooling retard!”
Two noted in an absent way, as the adrenaline rush that had caused her to jump nearly out of her skin was fading, that Stephen’s accent thickened when he was excited. She let out a shaky breath, laughing a bit and saying, “Jesus …”
“Oh, sorry. Scared you, did I? It’s this game … they have the best jump-shooter on the very planet, wide open, and their idiot center never finds him when the double comes.”
“That’s a bitch,” Two said, her voice dry. She rolled over on her side and looked first at the television, then at Stephen.
If the vampire had realized that Two had no idea what he was talking about, he didn’t seem to care. “Aye, it is indeed, but what … shoot! Shoot! Good.”
“Uh, wasn’t that the other team?”
“Yes. It’s the accomplishment I care about, especially during the preseason. I want a game that’s decided by one basket, and I want them to fight for every point in between. Who wins matters little, though I’ll admit to developing some rooting interests as the season goes on.”
“Ah.” Two kept her voice noncommittal. In truth, she’d never paid attention to any organized sport and didn’t particularly care. If asked, she would have said she wasn’t against them, but rather had never taken the time to become interested. No one had ever asked.
Stephen was explaining his opinions further. “It’s the battle. The test of wills. Which warrior will prevail? Not as good as a real fight, of course, but better than the make-believe in movies or television shows.”
“I bet if there were gladiatorial games, you’d watch,” Two said.
“Watch. Attend. Compete if I could.”
Two smiled. “Not surprised.”
Stephen glanced over at her, saw her grin, and returned it.
“I’m not the hard one to understand,” he said. “That’s Naomi’s department.”
“She doesn’t seem that tough to figure out.”
“No? Maybe not, but you’ve only just met her. There’s a lot to her beyond the politician, if you go digging. That’s why I like her. She’s better than most on the council by a fair amount, certainly better than the coward she replaced.”
“Not a fan of William?”
“No, I … hold on. Pass! Look at this lummox – he’s not hit a shot all night. Pass the ball!”
On the screen, a pale-skinned giant took what looked even to Two’s unpracticed eye like a very ugly shot. The ball clanged off the front of the rim and Stephen swore in disgust, pitching a throw pillow at the television.
Two felt her smile widening. Stephen looked at her and shrugged. “Three hundred and twenty eight years, and I still haven’t grown out of throwing things around.”
“So that’s what … sixteen-hundreds?”
“Tha’s right. I was born in 1676, on the western coast of Ireland. My parents met there after Cromwell – may his rotten soul burn in the deepest pit of Hell for all eternity – sent all the true Irishmen to Connacht. I met my patron twenty years later, and the next year he made me into what I am.”
“Did you want it? Or was it forced on you?”
“I wanted strength and power. I didn’t fully understand the type of power that was being offered, and when first I woke to find what I had become, I will admit I was somewhat … concerned.”
“Only concerned?”
Stephen laughed. “Terrified, actually, but not for long. I grew to love what I had become. My patron was a good warrior and a good mentor. He spent many years teaching me the skills I would need to survive and thrive amongst the Ay’Araf, and we parted ways amicably enough after about eighty years or so. I see him from time to time when I’m in Europe, though last I heard he was on an extended trip to Asia, attempting to establish another council in China or Japan. I doubt he’s succeeded – the warring factions there are even less fond of outsiders than they are of each other.”
“The council … right. Do you know when I’ll be able to meet them?”
Stephen shrugged. “I believe they meet once a month. I tend to lose track of the days, but it feels like about two weeks since the last meeting happened. Naomi will be able to tell you exactly.”
“OK.” Two lapsed back into silence, letting Stephen watch his basketball game and trying her best to follow the action on the screen.
“Who’s the best?” she asked after a few minutes had gone by.
“Depends. Best at what?”
Two looked at him and spread her hands wide. I’m trying here … help me out.
Stephen grinned. “The tall one, there. Not exciting, but he’s the best.”
“Skill is better than flair?”
“Skill is all that matters to me. He knows how to win. If they need rebounds, he gets rebounds. If they need points, he gets points. If his guards are hot, he gets them the ball. The best of warriors do whatever is necessary.”
“What are your skills? Do you play basketball?”
“Against mortals? Rarely. I’m too fast and strong. Against other vampires … it’s not my game. I’m not a tall man, Two.”
Two laughed. “Fair enough.”
“Mainly I fight, as most Ay’Araf do. I was trained first as a swordsman, then later I traveled to Asia for a time to learn martial arts. This century I’ve focused primarily on boxing and firearms, though I keep my other abilities honed.”
“Who do you fight?”
“Anyone who’s interested. Mostly sparring and shooting competitions with other Ay’Araf warriors. Occasionally an Ashayt or Eresh will come in for some training, but there are few
of them. Sometimes when one of the Burilgi groups goes berserk, we’re permitted to hunt them.”
“Hunt? Like animals?”
“The Burilgi are animals, and barely that. They’re leeches. Our race would be better off if we exterminated them all. I … shoot, shoot!”
Two was desperate for information, but she was still weak, tired from the blood loss and the events of the evening. Her head was spinning from all of the new knowledge. She let Stephen watch his game in silence and, when it ended, went out for another cigarette.
“Game’s over. I’m done shouting for the evening,” Stephen said as Two lay back down on the couch. He was flipping through a magazine.
“So what now?”
“Now I go and meet some friends at one of our clubs. Then perhaps fighting.”
Two sat up, eyes wide. “Take me!”
Stephen shook his head. “Not until you’ve seen the Kharas. The council.”
“Please!”
“Two, there’s nothing there for you. They would consider you food, as I did. This is not your world, not yet. Naomi will help you get it back, and when she does I will be happy to take you wherever it is that you would like to go.”
Two considered this, asked, “Is that a promise?”
“Aye. Now go to sleep. You look like the walking dead and, trust me, I’m intimately familiar with what that looks like.”
“I’ll wait for Naomi,” Two told him, lying back on the couch. When Stephen glanced over at her five minutes later, she was asleep.
Chapter 9
Sixteen Stitches
In the dark there was breathing, and the sound of cloth on metal, and footsteps.
“Who’s there?” Sarah asked. “Who are you? Please … who’s there?”
“You are no longer in danger.” The voice, male, was young but ancient. Sarah couldn’t explain it, but Two would’ve recognized the quality immediately. She would have thought of Theroen.
“Please, I … is Rhes OK? I’m scared.” Sarah hated this, feeling like a rabbit caught in a snare, blind and trapped and so afraid. Not for the first time in her life, she cursed her lack of sight, convinced that things would be better if only she could see.
The II AM Trilogy Collection Page 39