by Julie Kagawa
Then I walked around the collapsed wall of an old gas station…and froze.
I had definitely been here before.
Across the street, a building sat on an empty corner, desolate and still in the falling snow. It had been burned, and charred, blackened beams stood out harshly against the snowy backdrop. The roof was gone, but I remembered the wooden cross that once stood atop it, and the flames that had engulfed it on that last night. The night Jackal’s men had attacked Jebbadiah Crosse and his followers, kidnapping everyone but Zeke to bring them to Old Chicago.
Silently, I crossed the road, stepped over the curb, and walked onto the tiny strip of land beside the church. Crosses and headstones poked out of the snow as I gazed around, my eyes falling on the very place I’d seen Zeke and Jeb Crosse together for the last time.
I heard Jackal and Kanin cross the road as well, but both vampires halted at the edge of the sidewalk, disdaining to step onto the cemetery grounds. “A church,” Jackal said in obvious distaste. “Of course it would be a church. Why am I even surprised? You really don’t get this whole demon thing, do you, sister?”
I gave him a strange look. In New Covington, all churches had been razed and burned by the vampire lords long before I was born. There were stories and speculation as to why, of course, but some of the more colorful rumors said that vampires couldn’t cross the threshold of a church, couldn’t set foot on holy ground, and burned up if they tried.
Obviously, they were wrong. I was standing right here, in the shadow of a church, and I was fine. But Kanin and Jackal still looked reluctant to approach, and I grinned at my brother over the strip of earth separating us.
“What’s the matter, Jackal? Afraid you’re going to burst into flames if you set foot on the grounds?”
His sneer had an edge to it. “Isn’t that cute? A brand-new demon spawn, all puffed up and smug, thinking she’s invincible. Let me make one thing clear, sister,” he went on, still keeping well back from the edge of the lot. “I’m not afraid of the Big Guy, never have been, never will be. But, unlike some newbie vamps that won’t be named, I have never been confused as to what I am. Even if God is dead, even if He’s not here anymore—hell, even if He’s nothing but a boogeyman made up by pathetic humans desperate for some sort of hope—I, at least, am still a demon. I’ve never pretended anything different. And God, if He is real, still hates us.”
Jackal crossed his arms, smirking at me. “So, go ahead, my dear little sister. Stomp on His territory a while longer. Maybe He’s dead after all. But if a lightning bolt strikes you dead in the next thirty seconds, I’ll save us some time and say ‘see you in hell’ right now.”
My stomach twisted. I remembered something Jebbadiah Crosse had asked me, long ago, when I hadn’t been a vampire for long and had first stumbled upon his group.
“Do you believe in God, Allison?”
“No,” I said immediately. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m going to hell now?”
“This is hell,” Jebbadiah said. “This is our punishment, our Tribulation. God has abandoned this world. The faithful have already gone on to their reward, and He has left the rest of us here, at the mercy of the demons and the devils. The sins of our fathers have passed on to their children, and their children’s children, and it will continue to be so until this world is completely destroyed. So it doesn’t matter if you believe in God or not, because He is not here.”
I’d been skeptical before. I didn’t know what I believed now.
“Allison.” Kanin’s soft, cool voice came to me over the silent graveyard. I looked up, expecting him to call me back, to tell me we were wasting time, that we had to keep moving. His eyes were dark and hooded, his expression blank, as he gazed at me from the edge of the lot. “Do you know this place?”
I nodded. “I’ve been here before,” I told him, stepping around a headstone, brushing the cold rock with my fingers. The same tombstone Zeke had braced himself against when Jeb had whipped him for a crime I couldn’t remember now. “We—Zeke’s group—passed through this town on their way to Eden,” I continued, looking at the burned, blackened church. “They stopped here to rest, but they were attacked the next night.” I turned my head and shot a glare at Jackal, angry again. “By Jackal’s thugs.”
“Huh.” Jackal gazed around with interest now, unconcerned with the icy glare I was giving him. “So this is the spot where they nabbed everyone, is it? Small world.”
“They killed a woman, you know,” I spat at him. “Shot her in cold blood, and she couldn’t even defend herself. Oh, forget it.” Shaking my head, I curled my lip into a sneer. “Why am I telling you any of this—you certainly don’t care.”
“At last,” Jackal returned, smiling. “It starts to sink in. I was afraid I’d have to listen to another sermon.”
I wanted to snap at him, but it was useless. Instead, I turned and brushed snow off the cold tombstone as memories rose up to swirl around me. I recalled what had happened in this cemetery—seeing Zeke and Jeb from the cover of darkness. Watching as Jeb used a car antenna to whip his adopted son for an earlier sin. Watching Zeke with his head bowed, saying nothing. And what had happened after—the sudden attack, finding Zeke and traveling with him to Old Chicago to rescue the others—it all came back, reminding me yet again of what I had lost. That frozen piece of time in utter darkness, when Zeke had finally leaned in and kissed me, was forever etched into my memory and would never fade. I could see him now, standing beside me, as clearly as that memory would allow, his bright blue eyes shining with hope and determination. And I knew why I’d wanted to come here, to this spot, one more time.
Reaching back, I unhooked the chain from around my neck, drawing it and the tiny silver cross over my head. Refastening the clasp, I set it and the cross gently down on the gravestone, my fingers lingering on the metal winking against the rock.
Goodbye, Zeke.
Then I turned and crossed the grounds to where the two vampires waited on the sidewalk. Jackal shook his head as I joined them, but Kanin’s dark eyes remained on me, sympathetic and appraising.
“Are you finished?” he asked gently, and I nodded.
“Yeah,” I whispered, with one last glance at the church and the phantom memories that still lingered. The glint of silver, tiny and bright, caught my eye in the darkness, and I turned away. “Let’s go. I’m done here.”
We headed back toward the main road. No one, not even Jackal, said anything, leaving me to my thoughts and the persistent, swirling memories that refused to leave me alone. Several times, I almost turned around and went back; that cross was my last connection to Zeke, the only part of him I still had. But in the end, I left it on the grave in the middle of a lonely cemetery. I couldn’t dwell in the past. Zeke was gone. I had to move forward.
As we stepped between two dead vehicles and the road stretched away once more, the sudden growl of an engine cut through the silence. I jerked up, caught a glimpse of flying snow and red taillights as two motorcycles flashed between cars and vanished. The tracks from the tires shot away through the snow and followed the motorcycles into the dark, down the highway, and out of sight. The whine of their bike engines echoed over the buildings, ebbing away into the night.
I whirled on Jackal. “Those were raiders!” I exclaimed, almost an accusation. He raised a patronizing eyebrow, and I narrowed my gaze. “Why are they here? What do they want?”
The raider king gave me a serene smirk. “What makes you think they were mine, sister?”
“Uh, because we’re a couple days from Old Chicago? Because this is the same town where they attacked us last time?” He continued to smirk at me, and I scowled. “Don’t play innocent—those were your bikers. What did they want?”
“Haven’t a clue,” Jackal said breezily. “They didn’t exactly stick around for tea and gossip, did they?”
I bared my fangs at his obnoxiousness. “Aren’t you their king? Wouldn’t they at least try to talk to you if they knew you were here?�
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Jackal snorted. “Sister, please. The minions aren’t stupid. If you were a bloodbag and you saw three vampires walking up the road toward your house, what would you do? Stay and have a nice little chat? Or run like hell?” He shook his head. “The minions, if they were mine, did exactly what they always do—saved their own worthless hides. As well they should. I don’t want them getting comfortable with vampires. I worked very hard to make sure they’re all scared shitless of me, and I’ll thank you not to screw that up. My raiders, especially, know better than to hang around, waiting to be eaten. I’m their king, not their pal. So, yes, we saw two bikers, and they peed themselves and ran away. What’s the problem here?”
“Just that… I mean…” I trailed off, frustrated that I knew something was wrong, and I couldn’t put it into words. Kanin, however, spoke up from behind me.
“And is it usual that two of your humans would stake out a town for the sole purpose of watching for vampires?” he asked. “And that they chose this town, which they knew we would have to pass on the way to Old Chicago?”
Jackal shrugged. “Maybe. Who gives a damn, anyway? Don’t glare at me, old man,” he added, facing Kanin down. “I’m not a mind reader. I can’t tell what the minions are thinking every second of every day. It’s just a couple bloodbags. What do you think they’re going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Kanin admitted, his dark gaze moving to the road ahead. “But I think we should proceed with caution.”
* * *
Nothing unusual happened that night. We met no more raiders on the road, heard no motorcycles tearing away from us at top speed, encountered no human life at all. The path to Old Chicago was as it had always been: silent, cold and dark, twisting through woods and deserted towns, past the skeletons of houses and the ancient remains of cars buried in the snow. Near dawn, we split up to bury ourselves in the frozen earth, as Kanin was suddenly wary of being aboveground and exposed. I slept in my dark grave, silent, dreamless and undisturbed, and rose the next night to a still, icy world. It had stopped snowing, but sometime during the day the snow had turned to sleet, and everything was outlined in a thin layer of ice. I shook snow from my hair and clothes and paused a moment to concentrate on Kanin and Jackal, searching for them through our blood tie.
They weren’t far. I backtracked through the trees until I found the road again and saw Jackal leaning against a dead tree at the edge of the pavement. He raised an eyebrow as I came up, but didn’t move.
“Where’s Kanin?” I asked, gazing around for the Master vampire. Our blood tie allowed me to sense my sire’s general direction, and even that he wasn’t very far, but it didn’t let me know what he was doing. Jackal shrugged.
“You know as much as I do, sister. The old bastard is off that way—” he nodded over a rise on the other side of the road “—but of course he hasn’t told me what he’s doing. For all I know, he could be chasing squirrels to make a necklace from their little squirrel balls.” He looked content not to move from his position as I glared at him. “If you’re so curious, why don’t you go ask him?”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.”
Following our blood tie, I trekked over the rise and through the snow, weaving through trees and around a rotting cabin, until I found him. He stood with his back to me at the edge of the road where it curved around a bend, his tall, imposing form a featureless silhouette against the snow.
“Kanin.” I walked to his side, not expecting him to acknowledge me but knowing he knew I was there. As predicted, he didn’t turn, but continued to gaze down the road, his face unreadable. I peered into the darkness, saw nothing unusual, and glanced back. “What are you looking for?”
“I don’t know.” Kanin sounded suspicious, and I caught the barest note of frustration beneath his cool tone, a hint I would have never caught a month ago. The Master vampire stared down the winding pavement, and his eyes narrowed. “I feel we are being watched.”
I frowned. The road and the forest surrounding it were empty. Nothing moved or made a sound in the shadows; no tracks lay in the snow except our own. “Rabids?” I asked.
“No.” Kanin shook his head. “Rabids would not simply watch from the woods. They would have attacked us by now.”
“Raiders, then?”
“Perhaps. Though I am uncertain as to why they would be stalking us. And I cannot sense, or smell, any humans nearby.”
I gave him a faint smile. “Is it possible you’re just being paranoid after last night?”
He finally looked at me, a hint of amusement crossing his face. “One does not live to be several centuries old without a little paranoia,” he said, the corner of his mouth curving just slightly. “But perhaps you are right. In any case, there is little we can do about it now. Let’s keep moving. Once we reach Old Chicago, I am sure we will find answers.”
Several hours later, the road widened and became a highway, and the buildings around us grew larger and more numerous as we approached the outskirts of the city. According to Jackal, we were still a day out from Old Chicago, though we’d left the wilderness behind and had entered the surrounding suburban districts. The tangle of trees and undergrowth now wrapped themselves around houses, stores and road signs, and the once-empty highway slowly grew choked with cars. One side of it, anyway. The other side, the side leading toward Old Chicago, was completely barren. I’d seen this before: the endless stream of dead, crumpled vehicles, thousands of people trying to flee the cities all at once. I stared at the cars we passed, repressing a shiver. It must’ve been chaos, back then. Vehicles lay smashed against each other, sometimes flipped to the side or all the way onto the roof. A skeleton lay half in, half out of a broken windshield, splayed across the hood in the snow. The blackened hulk of a van lay overturned in a ditch, one small bony arm reaching through the shattered window, as if trying to claw itself free.
Kanin and Jackal continued on, barely glancing at the silent vehicles and their grisly contents. I guessed that Kanin had been alive for so long, nothing surprised or disturbed him anymore. And Jackal certainly wouldn’t care about a bunch of dead meatsacks, as he would so elegantly put it. I wondered if that would ever happen to me, if I would eventually live so long, the sight of mass death and destruction wouldn’t faze me at all.
Ahead of us, the mouth of a tunnel loomed over the river of cars, a yawning black hole set into a rise. The tunnel was pitch-black, and though my vampire sight allowed me to see in utter darkness, I couldn’t glimpse the end of it.
However, something was coming out of that dark hole that made me stop in my tracks. Silent and unseen, but unmistakable. It roused my demon and caused the Hunger to stir restlessly, spreading a low ache across my insides.
The scent of blood. A lot of it. Freshly spilled, coming from somewhere within that looming blackness.
I hurried forward, joining Kanin and Jackal at the entrance. Both vampires were gazing into the mouth of the tunnel warily, though the smell was probably making them just as Hungry as I was.
“Huh,” Jackal remarked, arms crossed as he stared into the darkness. “That’s interesting. Last I checked, there wasn’t anyone living on this stretch of road. The minions killed off anyone in a twenty-mile radius of Chicago.”
I gazed into the tunnel, trying to ignore the familiar ache spreading through my insides. “Do you think someone is in there?”
“If they are, their guts are all over the pavement, judging from the smell.” Jackal sniffed, curling a lip in distaste. “Nothing is going to be alive in there, sister. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
A scream rang out, somewhere in the darkness, and I snarled in return. “Someone’s in trouble,” I hissed at the other vampires, and drew my katana. “Screw it! I’m going in.” Without waiting for a reply, I sprinted into the passageway.
The road through the tunnel was even more clogged with vehicles than the outside. Cars lay on both sides of the road, some knocked sideways or smashed into walls in their desire to escape. I wove through
a maze of vehicles, sometimes having to scramble over hoods or roofs in order to navigate. Once, I had to duck beneath an enormous rectangular truck— a semi, I remembered they were called—sitting at an angle and blocking both lanes. I heard Jackal and Kanin behind me, and Jackal’s comment that I was a pain in the ass reached me over the labyrinth of cars, but I concentrated on moving forward. In this dark, confined space, the scent of blood was overpowering, clinging to everything and making it impossible to sense anything else. The Hunger was raging inside, but I kept a tight hold on it, determined to stay in control. When I found the owner of that scream, I was not going to pounce and ravage them like a wild animal.
Though it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway.
As I reached the spot where the blood scent was strongest, the maze of cars suddenly thinned. I stood in a small open space, several cars forming a circle around me, as if they had been deliberately moved or pushed aside. It was definitely the source of the smell. Fresh pools of blood stained the pavement, still wet and glimmering, in the middle of the circle. But there was no one here, no bodies or other signs of a scuffle, though I was sure this was the place I’d heard the scream.
That’s weird, I thought, walking up to observe the pools of blood, keeping my Hunger firmly in check. I would not, I told it, lap up the puddles from the ground like some damn stray dog. Fresh blood with no bodies. Where…
Something warm dripped onto my face from above. Briefly, I closed my eyes, bracing myself, then looked up.
There were three of them. Two men and a woman, hanging from the ceiling of the tunnel with their hands tied behind them, the ropes around their necks creaking as they dangled in lazy circles. They had been split open, gutted from chin to groin, intestines spilling from their stomachs like pink snakes. Blood soaked the entire front of their bodies, wet and black, filling the air with the smell of death.
I backed away, nearly running into Jackal as he and Kanin emerged from the maze of cars, both gazing up at the bodies. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jackal remarked, shaking his head at the corpses. “You’d think stringing bodies up would get old after a while. I think the old nutbag is losing his creative touch.”