Marya knelt and picked up Christina’s head while there was still the light of consciousness in her eyes. “You should be more careful who you call bitch, dear,” she said sweetly.
As the eyes dulled in death, Marya sat the head on its body’s chest and sighed. She was going to miss Christina, but not much.
She straightened up and wrinkled her nose at the smell of cordite and gunpowder and the sound of screaming coming from the auditorium, wondering if they were doing the right thing. Did so many of her race have to die this night?
Then, she saw John approaching her with a smile on his face and she knew they were doing exactly the right thing, for both the Vampyre race and for the Normals.
Maybe someday, as more and more of the Vampyre race began to use Elijah’s vaccine, the two races could come together and live in harmony, one with the other.
But for now, she thought as John put his arms around her and walked her out into the crisp, clear night air away from the smell of blood and death, this would have to do.
Epilogue
It was almost dawn before Elijah and his friends were done carrying bodies from the spa to the crematorium. Dark black smoke billowed from the ovens and their doors were red hot and glowing from the unaccustomed business of the night.
The spa had been torched to conceal evidence of the massive amount of blood spilled there, but no bodies were left inside to raise questions about why their heads were missing.
Elijah and his friends, aided a great deal by the redoubtable Allison, began a clinic working with the recently converted Vampyres who were left behind after Thantos was killed.
They were all trained in the use of Elijah’s vaccine so they wouldn’t be at the mercy of their hunger, and they were given instruction in the history of their new race. Most accepted the vaccine gratefully, but those who elected to continue to hunt for their prey, as was their right, were instructed in the necessity of hiding their kills and keeping the existence of the Vampyre race a secret from the Normals.
Two weeks after the slaughter at the spa, Elijah and his friends met for the last time in Washington.
“There was surprisingly little speculation in the Washington press about the disappearance of so many of its more prominent citizens,” Vice President Burton said. “I would have expected more coverage.”
Elijah grinned. “Psychic ability has its uses, Jonathon,” he said, “not the least of which is erasing curiosity before it becomes bothersome.”
Burton laughed and put his arms about Allison and Bitsy. Allison’s friend was living with them now that her dad was gone.
Bitsy smiled, most of the bitterness that had characterized her personality gone, as if it had left with her dad, never to return.
Matt held up a thick sheaf of papers. “Orders for the vaccine are pouring in faster than we can process them, Elijah. I think this is going to have a major impact on our race.”
Elijah nodded. “Vampyres are not all that different from Normals, in some ways,” he said. “Given a choice, both races will usually do the right thing.”
He looked around at the group of people that over the past months had become as close to him as family and he held a glass of white wine aloft. “To Elijah’s Army, a job well done, teammates!”
The group all drank to the toast.
And then, Shooter asked a question. “Elijah, now that we know your theory about blood sharing is correct and that it does vastly improve our abilities, are you going to share the secret with the rest of the Vampyre race?”
Elijah pursed his lips. “Let me ask you a question, Shooter.”
“Okay.”
“Would you put a loaded pistol in the hands of an infant?”
Shooter looked offended. “Of course not.”
Elijah shrugged. “Neither would I, Shooter, neither would I.”
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