Through the Moon Gate and Other Tales of Vampirism

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  When they’d moved into the apartment, Silver had surprised, and offended, Malory by affixing a mezuzah to the doorpost to his bedroom. Silver had never placed credence in the trappings of his religion until he’d seen the effectiveness of Malory’s invocations while fighting the vampire hunters in San Francisco. Suddenly, the tailor had troubled to obtain a truly kosher mezuzah and affix it with due ceremony, including a recitation of the appropriate blessing in stumbling but effective Hebrew.

  Malory had wakened that evening with an eerie sensation, somewhere between a bad smell and insects crawling over his skin. Then he’d discovered he was unable to enter Silver’s bedroom, even upon invitation. Silver was astonished at the effect on Malory, and Malory was astonished that Silver had been able to produce the effect.

  “I could take it down,” Silver had offered hesitantly. “I didn’t mean to bar you, just, well....”

  “No. That’s all right. I’ll get used to it. And if it makes you feel safer, there’s no harm in it.”

  “It’s your apartment, after all—”

  “And it’s your bedroom. Just...don’t put up any more of them. All right?”

  Silver hadn’t put up any more, but it had taken months for Malory to adjust to that subliminal hum, discordant itch, or whatever it was. It wasn’t inimical to his being, after all. The Potency that enabled the mezuzah was the very same Potency that had endowed him with virtual immortality so he could observe the fate of Abram’s get.

  The clashing vibration was caused by the objection of his own god, the god of his father’s city, the god to whom he’d been sacrificed, the god who had cursed him with the need for blood and darkness. He had died but his city’s god had rejected the sacrifice because, through no will of his own, Malory hadn’t stayed dead.

  Every so often, throughout the millennia, Malory found his simplest daily affairs tied into complex knots because he was the bone of contention between two such potencies.

  Blurring into daytime dormancy, Malory thought that the arrival of David Silver in his life may turn out to be the harbinger of truly monumental complications. But it wasn’t Silver’s fault. He alone had invoked divine attention.

  Around noon, Malory’s awareness rippled with Silver’s presence, the only presence able to enter his chamber without setting off alarms that could waken him even in daylight. The residual thread connecting their minds reassured Malory that Silver was busy, intent, but undisturbed, unalarmed, and certainly posing no threat to a lethargic vampire.

  Malory sank back into his stupor, filled with renewed anxiety. The changes in the tailor’s attitudes were especially alarming in view of recent developments.

  I’ll just have to explain to him and ask to access his mind again. If Silver denied him, they would part company. The mortal had served him well. He could not violate Silver’s trust, nor allow himself or his affairs to become a danger to the mortal. With that decision, peace came at last and he slept.

  When Malory woke, he was already half-way onto his feet, intent on carrying out his decision as if not one instant had passed, yet now it was dusk, and his energies, the gift of the god of his fathers, not the God of Abram, waxed steadily with the night.

  A single piece of yellow paper fluttered to the floor at his feet, a large Post-It note that had come unstuck from his nightshirt. He retrieved Silver’s note and flicked on the dim night light he used in lieu of candles.

  “The plumber fixed the toilets. They don’t spew hot water anymore. I filed for damages. I bought two thousand more of VWINX because it’s the best Vanguard Fund. CNBC says the bear will be a grizzly. I posted the gardener’s job. And I paid the GEnie bill. Both my VCR’s are taping. The one in the living room is free though. I left your surveillance camera tape on top. If you need me, I’ll be at the Hyatt downtown, probably until midnight. I heard on GEnie that P. N. Elrod is reading at a convention there and I just couldn’t resist. I know you needed to talk, so I’ll be back around one.”

  It was a typical David-Silver-Post-It, but something about the handwriting made Malory uneasy. He worried at it as he dressed and went out to tour the apartment.

  According to post-its on the VCR’s, Silver was taping Highlander and Forever Knight, whatever they were. The empty red BASF boxes on top of the sets had old TV Guide clippings taped to them. It appeared that Highlander was about an immortal and Forever Knight had something to do with a vampire cop. Research. Via fiction. This was becoming serious.

  Silver had rejected all offers of immortality for himself. So what was he after? If something, perhaps a demon, was luring him on in this research, Silver might already be a victim of force he could never handle.

  Galvanized, Malory rushed into the office and powered up the desktop. As he waited, he noticed a disk in a wrapper with the title The Vampire’s Crypt, edited by a Margaret Carter from someplace in Maryland. It offered interviews with female writers and extensive bibliographies.

  Silver had left the referenced item from GEnie so it came right up on screen. Scanning the text, Malory learned two things. P. N. Elrod was another female writer of vampire novels. A quick check of the source of the item revealed that her fans were legion, and many of them were articulate females. She’d been interviewed in Vampire’s Crypt, and reviewed in a thing called The Monthly Aspectarian. Astrology was definitely not a David Silver interest. Alarmed, Malory shut the machine down.

  As he reformulated into bat-shape, he did consider that he could be misinterpreting Silver’s interests. It had been almost a year since Rita had died, and maybe two since she had chosen immortality over marrying Silver. It was time for Silver to be interested in women again. Perhaps he was looking for one who wouldn’t reject Malory’s position in Silver’s new life. No, he’s not that naive.

  Malory arrived at the Hyatt, riding the formidable evening gusts above the tallest spires rather than using his supernatural powers to relocate. If this was the demon’s trap, he wouldn’t advertise his approach. And what better bait for a vampire trap than David Silver? What better bait for Silver than vampire lore? It was just the way Malory’s god would think. And his god had taken no vow to eschew influencing Silver’s mind.

  Don’t spook yourself!

  But the previous night, Malory had thought he’d glimpsed Xlrud, his god’s favorite demon servant, and he had indeed been tensed and waiting for something to happen. And this is it. It’s Xlrud playing on Silver’s innate curiousity.

  Malory landed in the darkest shadows behind an airport limo idling beside the valet parking sign. He swirled into human form, and tucked in his Aeropostale polo shirt. Costumed in white Dockers and Reeboks, he lacked only the sun-scorched look of the early-retired executive so typical of Florida. Still, he’d blend in with the Hyatt guests.

  He strode through the carriage entrance, ignored by the bellhops. A rush of voices filled the hollow towering space over the lobby. Scaffolds and spackled drop cloths denoted recent remodeling. The escalator was in pieces and deserted. Following the signs to the Registration desk, Malory found himself approaching a knot of grungily attired people, the source of the noise competing with the tall fountain.

  They milled about the display showing daily events. He leaned against a fake Doric column where he would seem to belong to a loaded luggage cart and observed the crowd.

  These people wore myriads of slogan buttons and carried totebags plastered with cryptic bumper stickers and/or airline tags. Alone any one of them would look tacky, but taken together, they seemed to be wearing the fraternal jewelry of a secret lodge.

  As they churned around, emitting waves of outrage, indignation and mystification, Malory caught sight of the words St. Germain on one of the buttons. This had to be the group Dave had come to meet. One neat little female in tight faded Levis was worth the trip across town just to look at. But Silver was nowhere to be seen, though Malory’s other senses indicated he was nearby and getting nearer.

  As one in a business suit approached, Malory listened.

 
; “Listen up folks. The guy at the desk said they’ve never heard of any convention! They’ve got no room listing for Elrod. People have been asking all day, so they made up this flyer.” A blonde wearing a T-shirt with Einstein’s equations blazoned on the front and in back it had a picture of the galaxy with a YOU ARE HERE arrow, took the flyers and passed them around.

  Meanwhile, the nearby elevator opened and more fraternal brothers and sisters poured out calling to the distressed group. One of the loudest voices was David Silver’s.

  “We’ve been had, guys, but it’s okay. The Boca crowd decided to hold a con anyway. We’ve got a suite upstairs and a couple of local writers are coming. We’ve got a taper and a whole set of Forever Knight. Who needs crash space?”

  The out-of-towners surged forward, and everyone was talking at once. A very tall, portly man carrying professional camera equipment, cut across the babble with a very, very loud voice. “When I find out who’s responsible for this, I’m going to publish it in—”

  “Chill out! We’re making a fan legend here. This is better than SnowCon in New York back in the seventies!”

  Just then the street doors opened wide and a crew of white-clad Red Cross workers jockeyed in two trollies stacked with equipment stenciled BLOOD MOBILE.

  “You don’t think—”

  “I don’t believe it—”

  Someone started to laugh.

  But Malory wasn’t listening. A very familiar sensation was creeping over him. He scanned the vicinity for the source as the humid, rain-scented air swept through the air-conditioned lobby from the doors where the Red Cross crew wrestled with their equipment. Some posted signs.

  Malory found the source of the sensation revealed by the mists of the fountain. Etched into the falling droplets was the dim suggestion of a face, the misty outline of a presence. Xlrud. His oldest foe.

  Malory snapped his attention back to Dave who was leading the crowd toward the Red Cross workers. Even with every sense focused, Malory couldn’t detect a hint of Xlrud’s taint on David Silver. I’m in time!

  Malory began to move, but the demon acted faster.

  In the crack between seconds of Time, the demon coalesced as a human, and blended with the group’s sense of continuity so all the humans perceived him as always having been with the Red Cross crew. Malory checked his mad dash to Silver’s side. What was Xlrud up to?

  The demon wore a white linen suit with a silk shirt and tie, looking every inch the tropical gentleman. He approached the group and gave a theatrical bow as if they had all come specifically to see him. “I am Phineas Norton Elrod,” he announced proudly. “And as advertised, I will give a free Tarot reading to each and every blood donor who volunteers tonight.” He bowed again. “I am so very glad you could all come.” As he rose, he glanced up and caught Malory’s eyes, flashing a mocking smile.

  The demon was barely five feet from Dave and had the human’s full attention. But it only lasted the barest instant, and during that time, the demon’s attention was on Malory. Dave’s still safe.

  The crowd broke, whirled, and engulfed the Blood Mobile crew, helping them with their equipment, carrying the whole mob toward the function room set aside for the Blood Drive.

  As they came past Malory’s position, he heard comments on how the on-line BBS’s spread distorted rumors as well as real news faster than the blink of an eye. Phineas Norton Elrod was indeed a P. N. Elrod, but not The P. N. Elrod, and he was certainly giving readings, but not of a new Vampire Files novel.

  The laughter was rich and deep and equally as powerful as the outrage and indignation had been. These people were filled with the juice of life that Xlrud delighted in devouring. But his real prey was Dave.

  Get Dave out of here and he’ll leave those people alone.

  Malory joined the churning mass of humanity, sensing the warm glow of vitality contrasting to the chill, silent hole around Xlrud. Moving with the current, he arrived at Dave’s side just before they began to squeeze the equipment through the door. Malory touched Silver’s elbow and murmured for Silver’s ears only, “I have to talk to you.”

  Silver turned, started as he identified Malory, then glanced about with a frown. “Now? Can’t it wait?”

  “No. It can’t. This is serious. Urgent.”

  Xlrud stood aside holding the door open for two Blood Mobile workers to dolly their equipment through, but he called to Dave, “I thought you were going to be first.”

  Silver looked from the demon to Malory and back, shrugged, and called to the crowd, “I’ll be back in a while.”

  Taking Malory by the elbow, he wedged open a space and slid to the edge of the crowd. “Now, what’s the problem?”

  Xlrud’s eyes bored cold shafts through Malory’s back. “Not here. Outside.”

  As they moved away, the demon’s silent laughter followed Malory. It was amazing what humans never noticed.

  Rain washed air still heavy with Florida humidity greeted them when the doors opened. Silver stopped under the portico, away from a group hassling with luggage near the airport limo. “What’s up?”

  Malory edged closer and in a very private tone, said, “We’ve got big trouble. Very big.” The chill of Xlrud’s presence splashed through the plate glass and washed against Malory’s senses. “Can we talk about it at home?”

  Silver swept the now empty lobby with a glance, and replied in a similarly private tone, “Hey, I wasn’t going to donate blood—in case you need it. I just tell them I have allergies. I’d probably get the free Tarot reading anyway. Then Jeanne Kalogridis was going to read outtakes from the last book in her Dracula trilogy before we watched—”

  “You can give blood to the Red Cross anytime you like,” Malory interrupted. “Did you drive down?”

  “No. I took the bus. Parking is ridiculous.” He gestured at the rate sign.

  The tailor couldn’t get used to his new, more affluent, lifestyle. Malory reached out his arm to invite Dave inside his personal fields. “Then let me take you—”

  Silver dodged back. “Come on, Mal. I don’t want to leave yet, not unless it’s really important. Some of these people are—”

  “One of those people is a supernatural creature, and an enemy of mine, of a sort.” To be honest, Xlrud had done Malory a favor or two upon rare occasions. “Dave, I told you I’d never ask this of you again, but....” He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I really need access to your mind. I have to be sure—”

  “No!” But as he spoke, Silver took a step toward Malory, one hand out as if about to accept the mental intrusion. His voice rose an octave, and his lips snarled. Then he apologized. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but Mal, you don’t really want to! I mean—you promised!”

  The last two words were a muted wail of anguish.

  Malory sorted out two strong emotions from the melange assaulting his senses. Fear. Despair.

  Very well. That’s the end of the matter. The best he could do for Silver was to lead the demon away from him.

  “And I will keep that promise. The lawyers will contact you in the morning. I’ll make sure that you’ve been well provided for. Don’t try to trace me. Remember your promises to me, and I will honor mine to you.” He turned, then paused to offer, “My advice is to leave this hotel now, while you still can. I mean this very instant. There is nothing for you in there but disaster.” He took two strides toward the deeper shadows, gathering his power.

  “Mal! Don’t go! Not without me. Please.”

  The vampire turned. “It’s not by my choice.”

  “If it means that much to you—okay.” He stepped closer. “I’ll go home with you. We’ll discuss it.”

  “Are you sure? This could become worse than it was in San Francisco. Much, much worse, especially from your point of view.”

  They were very close now, and Malory spoke softly, letting the rain and his power mask his voice. “There’s a demon involved. I suppose that’s what you’d call him. He works for my ancestral god. His
missions are usually to destroy whatever I’ve come to treasure.” Tentatively, Malory held his arm out. “In this case, that could be you. And I’ve never yet managed to thwart him completely.”

  David Silver willingly stepped into his grasp. “Maybe you’re not a match for him by yourself—but with you and me together, he’s the one who’s got a problem, not you.”

  Since that awful escape from his burning house in San Francisco, Malory had practiced transporting Silver until the human was no longer so overcome with fear that he literally rooted them to the spot. But the vampire did have to take a superficial grip on Silver’s consciousness, dimming his perceptions of the transition to mist. The process had become so routine with them that neither expected what happened.

  The moment Malory turned through the alter-dimension to reformulate as mist, simultaneously damping Silver’s awareness and mentally impelling them toward home in one operation, something grabbed him.

  A hole irised open deep inside the kaleidoscopic montage that represented Silver’s normal waking consciousness. Images flew into a vortex and Malory’s awareness tumbled into the whirlpool of human thought.

  But it wasn’t human. Not entirely.

  Xlrud. Everything was flavored dark and grimy like Xlrud’s mind. But David Silver was there, too, sparkling with warmth and vitality.

  In the still center of the blurred whirlpool, was a tiny image, sharp like a laser-enhanced photo, an aerial view of an ethereal city, a white granite building with gold doors surrounded by nested walled court yards. Among plentiful greenery, pastel-pink buildings lay interspersed with needle-like spires. The whole gorgeous city blanketed across a landscape of rolling hills. There were sharp little hummocks carved into terraces or decapitated and crowned with buildings, glittering buildings like scattered gems flowing across hill and valley alike. Taken as a whole, the place was a work of art.