"Stay back!" he cried. "You—"
Alex howled.
The nightthing had bitten him, and rage exploded in Deb as she plucked the older man bodily from the fray and shoved him behind her. Fury reddening her vision, and she buried her fingers in the creature's scalp. It opened its mouth and squealed, and Alex, his wrist splattering blood, rolled aside, then dropped to his knees next to his companion as the other men scrambled forward and Deb jammed her other hand under the beasts jaw, the sound of Alex's agony still pounding through her mind. The rich smell of lifeblood was turning the outcast into a slavering maniac, and the realization that it had torn into her lover's flesh infuriated Deb even more. When the outcast tried to clutch at her, she roared and dragged the scrawny thing clear of the floor and brutally flung it against the wall. The instant it regained its feet, something faster than her eyes could track split the air and sank solidly into its chest. Pinned to the wall, the nightbeast gave a long, thin wail, shriveled nails scrabbling at the shaft in its sternum. It convulsed and howled again, then went limp.
Deb whirled. “Alex?"
"Don't move, lady." The teenager's voice was cold and emotionless. "If you do, I'll kill you." The weapon that had brutalized the outcast was aimed at her heart, a broadhead arrow already loaded.
"No!" Alex scrambled to his feet and reached for her. "Deb, are you all right?"
"Stay away!" she hissed. His hand was thick with blood and the scent of it crawled up her nostrils like the lure of hot soup on a frigid morning. Despite the arrow pointed at her, she retreated a few steps from the man she'd lain heart to heart with the night before last. "Don't come near me. I'm not . . . safe." He hesitated, then looked stupidly at his gore-covered hand and dropped it to his side.
Against the wall, the vampire thing's crusty skin was beginning its slow, smelly disintegration and Deb grimaced. The older man cleared his throat. "So you're Deb," he said. "I'm McDole, that's C.J. The fellow on the floor there is Elliot."
"What's next?" Deb asked sarcastically. “’Pleased to meet you'?" She glared at Alex and stamped her foot, furious. "What are you doing here? I would've expected you to have more brains!"
"Then why did you even come?" Alex snapped. "I suppose I was just your first easy dinner!"
His words hurt, as did the horrible probability that they could have been true. "I don't know," she whispered. She covered her face with her hands. "I guess I was hoping you'd kill me."
There was a stunned silence but McDole was quick to recover. "You could do a lot more good alive," he said. "You could help us, if you had a mind to."
"Help you what?" Deb's voice had turned hopeless.
Alex looked pained and averted his gaze to Elliot, who was watching them warily and meticulously applying a ripped piece of his shirt to the wounds on his arms and leg. Alex's bleeding had already stopped, the redness more like a black paint spill in the sparse moonlight.
"We're working on something," McDole offered finally. "Something that will even the odds a little."
"Kill us, you mean," Deb said flatly. Her laugh was brittle when McDole pressed his lips together and nodded. "And you want me to be your guinea pig? You know, for a moment I actually thought he came because he loved me—just one more girl in the harem, right, Alex?"
Alex winced. "You don't have to do this," he said in a low voice. "I won't let them force you." C.J. scowled at him, but Alex shook his head. "It has to be willingly or not at all."
"But we need her!" Elliot exclaimed. "The doctor—"
"Never mind," McDole interrupted tersely. "Alex is right. We don't have the right to force anyone."
"This doctor," Deb said curiously, "what would he . . . do to me? Or do you even know?" Her eyes, so full of red moonlight, sparkled with sudden interest. Or was it pain?
McDole hesitated and Alex jumped in. "Not much, I think. Take samples of skin to study, stuff like that. He's trying to . . . I don't know, make a disease or something."
Deb's gaze fell to her hands again, remembering their terrible strength and the guilt-free ease with which she'd forced her fingers through the flesh of the outcast’s head. If she refused their offer, she knew these men would do the unspeakable and let her go free, while her own kind killed at will and blandly accepted the depravities Siebold forced on the people at the Mart. Even Vic, the most misplaced of them all, had stolen her choice of eternities. So what was left? She could either feed or deny her Hunger and face the starvation Vic had warned would lead to the existence of a creature like the stinking mess sliding down the plaster to her right.
Better to die.
But not before this foul thing that had become her body did something worthwhile. She turned to face McDole.
10
REVELATION 2:2
And thou hast tried them . . . and hast found them liars.
~ * ~
Anyelet's face was a collage of fury and amazement.
"She didn't want to stay," Vic repeated. His arms were folded defensively across his chest; the other vampires were wearing shocked expressions and backing uneasily out of Anyelet’s reach. Even Rita, whose mind had crumbled since the gunshot wound to her face, had stopped hissing and babbling about revenge and retreated to a far corner to stroke the suppurating flesh of her face and mumble quietly.
"And so you granted her permission to leave," Anyelet said slowly.
"No," Vic replied patiently. "I didn't. But I didn't have the right to forbid it either."
"But you DID have that right!" The larger vampire stood his ground as Anyelet strode around the room. She spun back to him. "Tell me where she went!"
"I don't know." Vic kept his gaze carefully directed at her chin.
Her hand streaked forward and she slapped him, a blow that would have snapped the neck of a normal man; his solid body didn't quiver. In the recesses of the room, Gabriel, Ron, Jasper, and Warner, a young man pulled. From guarding the outside to replace Gregory, cringed and sighed.
"I don't know," Vic insisted. "She wouldn't tell me.”
“Then let me show you how you should have gotten the information!" Before he could jerk away, Anyelet wrenched his face up and snagged his eyes. Then she vas in him, searching, reading, demanding, and it was incredible how strong Vic's mind was, because even now he could feel him desperately trying to push her out. She gave an ugly mental chuckle as she found something, a tidbit to be saved for later, but the laughter died when she discovered he really didn't know the woman's whereabouts.
A fraction of a second after she pulled out, the cords of Vic's neck muscles relaxed and recognition flowed back into his eyes. "You, you—" He struggled with the words.
"Fool," she sneered. "Did you really think you could fight? Your bumbling alone should have told you to leave her to me." She pushed past him. "Stay away from me tonight, Vito. My patience is at an all-time low. And besides," her eyes glittered dangerously, "if something should happen to you, who will take care of Hugh?"
~ * ~
Anyelet paced angrily around her room. With Rita gone mad and Vic untrustworthy, she no longer had anyone who could be trusted to follow orders or with whom she could intelligently discuss her plans for rebuilding. All that effort to create an army and companions and she'd ended up alone anyway. She plopped onto her bed and tugged at her hair in irritation. This woman, Deb, made her nervous. Vic was an amateur at forcing his way through someone's mind, but once there it should have been impossible to hide anything, and the kind of willpower it took to resist was astounding. Weariness settled over her and she sighed and climbed under the comforter. Outside the sun was rising, bringing bright death to more of those traitorous fools who had once been her soldiers. In spite of her fury, she smiled; it took more than willpower to survive. No doubt the outcasts had finished off the inexperienced woman as she'd wandered the streets of the city.
Nightsleep took her.
V
March 27
Sacrifice
1
REVELATION 19:20
/>
And the beast was taken . . .
REVELATION 16:8
And power was given unto him to scorch men with fire.
~ * ~
Alex was taking Deb to her death.
He knew it, she knew it; perhaps that was why she struggled even in her sleep, writhing in his arms like a sackful of energetic snakes. Squinting against the glare of the sun, the group turned east on Wacker Drive. The golden rays sparkling down the length of the river were blinding after the still-shadowy inner streets and he gritted his teeth as Deb twisted in his grasp, the coldness, the emptiness, of her skin seeping through the layers of plastic and canvas.
"Need help, Alex?" McDole offered for the second time. C.J. was using one hand to support Elliot, who hobbled along with a pained expression.
"I'll manage," Alex responded grimly. Deb turned again and he almost lost his grip; his stomach wrenched when he thought he heard her groan.
"She's in a lot of pain."
The four of them whirled and Alex did lose his hold on one end, swearing desperately as Deb's feet thumped to the sidewalk, the sound like that of a dropped corpse. "Jesus, Jo! You scared the crap out of us!" C.J.'s face vas gray. "Stop sneaking up on people!" She didn't answer, just watched Alex as he struggled to pick up Deb's dead weight once more.
"Here," McDole said. He bent and hoisted the bottom of the bundle into Alex's arms and the five of them began walk again. "So you're Jo."
"Yes." She studied Alex, but it didn’t matter; part of his mind realized that he'd seen this girl from the window several days ago, but he no longer cared. There was a muffled sound of agony as his bundle moved sluggishly again, and saltwater stung his eyes. Deb was nearly vibrating in his arms, as if she needed to break free of her sleep and escape the sun. Jo slowed until she was beside him, then lightly touched Deb's covered head. "Sleep," she whispered. "Forget for a while."
Alex felt the tension drain from Deb's body before he'd taken three more steps. "What did you do?" he demanded. "Did you hurt her?"
Jo shook her head. "Bad dreams. She'll be all right now." The girl caught up with McDole again and Alex watched her go with dull eyes, then let himself sink back into his thoughts. Where was Deb now, the real Deb, the one he'd lain skin to skin with in the Daley Center? He'd seen shades of her last night, but he'd also discovered a new Deb, too—a woman of immense power and terrifying speed, a killer far beyond the scared survivor who had once shot a man plotting to betray her. He felt sick inside, in his stomach, in his brain. His heart was nothing but a burned-out piece of coal.
”Alex," McDole interrupted his thoughts. "Jo's coming with us to help."
Alex nodded automatically as the white-haired girl slowed again, this time to examine Elliot's wounds; he imagined her telling the man he'd be fine in a few days.
“Alex," McDole said gently at his side. "Alex, I'm so sorry. Is there anything, anything at all, that I can do?"
Alex shook his head and increased his pace. He didn't want McDole to see the tears dripping on the shroud that covered Deb's body.
~ * ~
"Don't touch her!"
Perlman threw his hands up and stepped back as Alex started to grab for his machete. "Sure, Alex. Whatever you say." He glanced warily at McDole; for once the older man seemed to have run out of words. Alex's expression was dangerously rigid, his eyes wild and suspicious.
"Hey, man," C.J. said, "the reason we did this was so that the doc could—"
"Shut up!" Alex snarled. He clutched Deb's silent body closer. "Just . . . shut up." His voice dwindled and he bent his head as if meaning to kiss Deb's cold lips through the covering. The others looked at one another uneasily.
Calie drew in her breath and spoke. "Shall we take her downstairs, Alex? Where it's dark and she'll be more comfortable?"
"Down . . . stairs," he repeated. His eyes, the circles beneath them like smudges of mud, flicked to Perlman and he tightened his hold around the woman in his arms. Within the thick wrappings, Deb began to stir. "No," he decided. "I've changed my mind. I won't let you use her."
A shocked moment of silence, then Deb moaned in her sleep, a faint, dry sound of despair. Calie had a sudden, horrible certainty that Deb could literally hear Alex make this monumental choice on her behalf and was helpless to stop him.
"Alex."
All gazes turned in Jo's direction as she walked to Alex and gently brushed his cheek. "You're upsetting her. Can you feel it?"
Alex's breath hitched miserably. "But he'll . . . do something to her. He'll hurt her."
"He won't mean to. And you know it's what she wanted, the only thing that will bring her comfort. Would you deny her that?" He hesitated, then shook his head, and Calie saw moisture trickle onto the canvas wrappings. "Let the doctor take her, Alex. He'll put her where it’s dark and she can sleep quietly for today." Jo motioned to Perlman and the physician came forward carefully, When Alex didn't resist, Perlman set his jaw and slipped his arms beneath the body, lifting it from Alex's hold. The younger man stood for a second with his arras extended, as though his lover were still safely nestled within them. Perlman hurried soundlessly away with C.J. and Louise following.
As they watched Perlman go, Alex's face was a mask of anguish. When the trio disappeared down the stairwell, Calie felt Jo's gaze on her as the teenager guided Alex to a chair and McDole fumbled about the small table on which sat the makings for his ever-present coffee. For a long time after McDole had placed a cup in his hands, Alex said nothing, then his gaze lifted and Calie cringed at the haunted look in his brown eyes.
"It's going to hurt her, isn't it?" he asked in an almost inaudible voice. "I told her it wouldn't, but it will."
Calie opened her mouth to reassure him, but Jo stopped her. "Yes," she admitted. "What she's become cannot be undone without a price."
"But it wasn't her choice! Why does she have to pay?"
"I don't have all the answers, Alex. I wouldn't want to. I do know the final gift for Deb is the peace that would have been forever lost. She doesn't want to exist like this. You know that." As he nodded and stared once more into his cup, Jo went to the window. "I'm going back to St. Peter's now," she said in a soft voice. The girl glanced at Calie and McDole. "He'll need something else to give him a sense of purpose." Her smile was kind, and despite Alex's misery, Calie wanted to smile back. Jo walked to the door, then nodded toward Alex again.
"You know," she said, "he's just what you need to get those people out of the Mart."
Then, as always, she was gone.
~ * ~
"What people in the Mart?" Jo's parting words had caught Alex's attention, momentarily pulling him from his self-pity. He watched numbly as McDole peered down the stairwell. "Forget it," Alex finally said. "I've been through this before. She's good at disappearing."
Relenting, McDole spun a chair in front of Alex and straddled it, leaning his arms across its back. Calie sat on the floor a few feet away. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you," McDole said. "What did you do about the lower level and the subway entrances into the Daley Center? How did you keep from being overrun by those things in the tunnels?"
Alex frowned, as though the answer was obvious. "I sealed the doors, of course." He scrubbed at the harsh stubble on his chin.
"But aren't they glass?" Calie asked. "You mean you boarded them up and none of the vampires tried to break through?"
"Don't be silly," Alex said impatiently. "The glass is unbreakable, but wood would've never held. I welded them shut. What's the matter?" McDole's mouth was hanging open and Calie was grinning widely.
"Well"—Calie's smile grew even bigger—"you really are the key to the Mart!"
Fury and Torment
2
REVELATION 8:9
And the third part of the creatures which had life, died . . .
~ * ~
"WHERE IS SHE?" Anyelet roared.
Silence. The others, cowering little rats that they were, had hidden in the recesses of the buildin
g, away from her rage and the tantrum that had enveloped her since she'd risen. She spun and pummeled the walnut-paneled wall; the wood shattered and pelted her with splinters, irritating her even more. Anyelet started to swing again, then stopped and touched her shaking fingers to her temples. Last night she'd been convinced that the woman would be dead by morning, ripped apart by outcasts or cooked by the sun and her own inexperience. Anyelet kicked petulantly at an end table, then flopped onto one of the loungers. Her dreams had destroyed that peace of mind, plaguing her with a creeping, faceless thing that chased her through a maze of streets darker than any she'd ever seen, a nameless, terrifying creature that forced Anyelet awake at dusk amid the ruins of her own shredded comforter. A creature Anyelet was positive represented that woman.
She glanced around, disgusted. Broken glass was everywhere, slivers and bits of wood and plaster, overturned furniture—all this and she still didn’t feel any better. Her head lifted at a sound drifting down the main corridor, echoing and vaguely musical—Hugh's voice, racked and ringing with nonsense as he sang along with band only he could hear. Anyelet cursed in a low voice; she didn't need this insane old man simpering and slobbering over her like some brain-dead slave, and besides, he had told them about the Art Institute in the first place.
She stopped. She was not so enraged that she would seek revenge for his innocent act, but then . . . there was Vic, wasn't there? And he needed to be punished, not only for letting that woman go, but for warning her of their attack to begin with. Had it not been for Vic, Gregory would be alive, Rita would be sane, and this Deb would be fully integrated into the nightside instead of haunting Anyelet's dreams.
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