Except . . . he realized suddenly during the struggle that it was his own judgment that had become clouded. Ross was acting as only one who would protect their clan would act. Still, Mentor trusted Bette. She would never bring them harm.
Then they'd both heard the strident call for help from Dell.
He'd let Ross live as long as he didn't say he was going to do harm to Bette Kinyo. No one would ever be allowed that privilege.
The two vampires, Predators both, threw themselves into transformation at the same moment, disappearing from the destroyed living room of Ross' home. Dell was being held in an abandoned old house just outside of Dallas in the suburb town of Ennis, Texas. The house sat on the edge of a newly plowed field that stretched in all directions for hundreds of acres. When the two vampires arrived outside the house, a fierce dark wind was blowing, shaking the boards of the sagging building, lifting shingles and sending them flying. Geese flew past the face of the full moon in the sky.
"This is an ugly place," Ross said with distaste. "But the man's got a car, I can say that for him."
Mentor looked at the limousine. Wealth. Tremendous wealth. This must be the man Alan was going to tell about his discoveries. Obviously, he had told him. And led him back to their dens, their homes. Ross would have even more reason now to kill Alan Star.
Would the complications never cease? Mentor wondered. It was all so out of hand.
"Let's go," he said to Ross. They approached the leaning porch and stepped lightly over the warped boards. It was Ross who pulled the door open, ripping it from rusted hinges and flinging it aside. It clattered and tumbled down the steps and onto the ground.
Wind rushed past them, pushing them into the room, startling the two men there with Dell. They turned in surprise, letting her go. "What the hell?" the old man said.
"Well you may ask," Ross said, eyes flaming as he stepped forward in two long strides and grasped the old man by his throat, hauling him inches into the air off the floor. "What the hell? That's where I'll dispatch your black soul."
"Let's think all this over," Mentor said, moving toward the two men.
Ross let go of Upton, and turned, furious. "We will not discuss this. You try to stop me from doing what's best for our people. I won't stand for it anymore."
Mentor roared back, "You do what I say, or we'll continue where we left off before we came here."
"What would you have me do, spare this old evil one?"
"There might be another way . . ."
"No. No other way. Not this time." Ross advanced again on the old man.
~*~
Dell fell back from George's clutching fingers as the door to the old house flew open. In the garish light from the battery operated lantern the two vampires stood as tall as the doorsill, their long shadows curling over the floor and up onto the opposite wall. "Mentor," she screamed, so relieved that she went to her knees.
She hadn't known what to do. The old man was insane, slobbering, his teeth shining in the lamplight from stretched tight lips. He was a horror to behold. Weeping sores oozed on his old wrinkled neck. There were soiled bandages on his forehead, and other bandages were coming loose from his hands. He could hardly walk and grimaced all the time, scowling from thick white brows.
"I have porphyria," he said. "You're going to save me from it."
"I don't know how to do that," she insisted.
"Yes, you do. You will take my blood, but not enough to kill me. You'll bring me to the brink of death and let me return. You'll make me like you."
"You don't understand. We aren't like that. Only a few of us ever do what you're asking. We're genetically changed by the same disease you have. In us, it mutated and caused us to be vampire, and now it's a gene we carry. We pass it down through generations. But we don't turn one another into vampire the way you're asking." She was lying. They could change others if they wished, but she'd never tell him that.
His idea of vampires was very distorted and he could not understand that she was like a vampire child, untried, unlearned, and probably incapable of doing what he wished.
"I'll have George douse you with gasoline from the car and set you afire if you don't do what I want," he threatened. His gaze was as evil and unrelenting as any Predator's. She knew he meant it.
All she could do was to send out a plea for help, for Mentor—either that or kill the old man, and she did not want to kill, ever. Her anger, which sat near the surface all the time, was moving out of control, however, and she feared what she might do to the two men if someone didn't come to her rescue.
She didn't want to do it. She didn't want to hurt them. The old man was desperate and disillusioned. He was pitiful.
And now Ross had him by the throat. She got to her feet and ran forward to pound on Ross' steel-vise arms. "Don't hurt him, don't!" She didn't know what possessed her. She couldn't think about anything but deterring murder in her presence.
"I'll kill him!"
Even as she screamed no and pleaded with Mentor to intervene, Ross swooped low over the old man's neck. Dell reached between them and caught Ross around the neck, hauling him backward. He let go of the old man and knocked her back so hard she flew across the floor, out the door, and all the way across the small broken porch to the bare yard outside.
Inside, Ross sank inch-long fangs into Upton's throat. The old man arched his body, crying out in pain and terror. George ran to him and beat at Ross' face with his fists. Ross swept him aside with his free hand, throwing him to the floor.
As Upton's blood rushed into Ross, he fell into the other man's thoughts and realized with sudden shock how alike they were. The old man said telepathically: Make me like you and I'll give you more power than you've ever dreamed existed. I can help you. Search your soul and see if I'm not telling the truth.
Mentor stood as if in a trance, then suddenly he moved, rushing outdoors to see about Dell. He lifted her into his arms and tried to get her to her feet.
Inside, using these few seconds alone to make a decision, Ross spoke aloud to Upton. "What can you do for me? Show me." He bent to the old man's bloody neck to take more of his life.
Upton, nearing death, showed Ross all the possibilities. How together they would siphon off from Upton Enterprises all the funds Ross might ever need. When they had enough, they would begin buying corporations, going global, until they owned the largest financial empire in the world. How he'd share all that with Ross, give him anything, give him not only riches, but enough power to do as he pleased about the Cravens and the Naturals. If only he'd make Charles vampire, they could do anything.
Ross paused and removed his lips from the old man's throat. He looked deep into the man's eyes and saw there a kindred spirit, someone so much like himself that it was like seeing a mirror image. "All right," he growled, blood dripping from his lower lip. "I'll give you immortality. And you will give me whatever I ask, forever."
"Yes," Upton whispered hoarsely. "Anything. Everything. Forever."
Ross sank his fangs again for the third time, forcing back the old man's head, bringing him just to the brink of death, feeling his heart beat slower and slower. Then Ross drew back and dropped Upton to the floor. He'd been tempted to kill him anyway, but the thought of what he'd been promised stopped him at the last moment.
When Ross turned, he saw Mentor standing in the open doorway.
"Now what have you done?"
"You want some of this? You're ready to end what we began?" Ross snarled, moving forward.
Mentor took him by the arms and threw him out the door and onto the porch, following in a blur.
Dell, unhurt, entered the house and knelt with George over the old man. He was bleeding profusely from the neck. George tried to cover the wound, but blood welled beneath the palm of his hand and rivered to the floor.
The old man opened his eyes. "I'll be like them," he said. "I'll live forever now. Don't worry, George, don't worry."
Dell looked for Ryan and found him cringing in the corner.
She took his hand, lifting him, and pulling him with her to Upton. She stooped down, felt of the old man's heart.
"You shouldn't have come for me," she said, sorry for him now. He was crazy and sick and old and he probably would have killed her—except now she realized she never would have permitted him to do that. With him prostrate on the floor in a pool of his own blood, she could sense the depth of his despair, his terrible longing for life, and she respected that about him. He was human. At least for the moment. He should not die this way.
She heard the sounds of struggle outside the house and left the old man, rushing to the door to see about Mentor. "Stop it!" she screamed. "Ross, stop it!"
Ross had Mentor on the ground, pushing his face in the dirt. Wind whipped Ross' coat jacket away from his body and slicked his hair to his head. He turned to her, teeth bared, eyes like coals, and he growled.
Dell felt all the anger rise within her that had been building ever since she died. It had been lying in wait, crouching within her, eager to spring to the forefront of her consciousness. It came on her in a tremendous wave. It felt red and fiery; it felt slick and red and bloody.
She looked around and saw Ryan watching the scene, frozen in place. He was caught in a nightmare that might never end. She must do something to stop it.
She leaped from the door across the broken porch, past the steps, and landed on Ross' back. She dug her hands into his shoulders, clawing at him. Her fangs locked on the back of his neck where it was exposed just above his collar.
Ross howled and tried to throw her off. She tasted blood, warm blood, the first she'd ever tasted and it filled her with images of great rivers, deep gorges, endless caves, dark, dark, dark woods where the moon shone scarlet and the wind carried death on its feathery wings. She bit down harder, seeking a vein, hunting for it the way a mole will dig through earth, making a tunnel toward a tasty root. She jerked her head this way and that, her eyes closed tightly, rending the flesh beneath her teeth with a viciousness that welled straight from her soul.
Ross fell off Mentor and twisted, taking her by the hair and pulling with all his might. Dell knew nothing, felt nothing but hunger. She felt no pain from the tearing of her hair from her scalp, no fear of the huge Predator who was more powerful than any who might have lived. She meant to kill him and take his blood. She'd find the vein, she'd bite down until she reached it, and then he would be hers.
Lightning struck her in the head, or that was what it felt like, and she was flung across the ground, rolling like a tumbleweed. Mentor stood over her, glaring and pointing. "You stay here," he said. "You are not to engage in battle."
Blood dripped from her lips and down her chin. Her tongue snaked out and she licked it clean, then she smiled. "If he touches you again, I'll be sure to kill him."
Mentor turned swiftly to Ross. Dell saw he was up now, a hand to the back of his neck. He was hunched over. She knew she'd hurt him. If Mentor hadn't intervened, she might not have taken his life, but she wouldn't have stopped trying. Her arms felt as if they were made of steel. Her body felt as strong as stone. Her mind swirled with the aftertaste of his blood. Though she thought they were all cold and dead, it wasn't true! His blood had been warm and alive. It still tingled on her tongue and through her veins, giving her strength and the desire to take more.
Ross said, "I ought to kill your little protégée for that."
"She thought I was in danger."
Ross laughed and it was a terrible sound, competing with the wind that howled around the eaves of the old house.
"You can leave now, Ross. I'll handle this." Ross turned to look through the doorway into the lantern-lit house.
"You made him vampire. Go now. You've done a terrible thing."
Ross scowled at Mentor then he looked with new, bright anger at Dell. "You'd better do something with her," he said. "If I ever come across her alone, she's mine."
"Handle your own business, Ross. I am the master in this region. If I have to, I'll get you replaced."
"You'll try to kill me, you mean. You're nothing but a weak old man, Mentor. You should never threaten me."
Ross raised his hands, his coat whipping out behind him, and leaped to the rooftop of the house. From there he shouted at the sky, "He is Master, he says! We shall see about that!"
Dell came to her feet, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She watched as Ross rose high into the sky, not bothering to transform, but flying like a bird, holding his arms out, his legs together and sailing faster than the human eye could see above the plowed fields into the starry night.
She turned away and saw Ryan standing on the old porch. She went to him and took his hand. "I'm sorry you had to see all this," she said.
Mentor patted the boy on the shoulder as he went into the house. He found the servant still hovering over the old man, holding a hand to the wound Ross had made.
"You," Mentor said, standing over the servant. "Get in the car and leave this place."
George looked at him in fear, but as Mentor stood there, George's face grew lax and still, expressionless. Dell watched from the doorway as Mentor performed his magic on the other man's memories, clearing them, making him forget.
George rose, and Mentor took his elbow gently, leading him to the door. He watched until the man opened the car door, got inside, started the motor, and drove away. Then he turned back for the old man.
"What are you going to do with him?" Dell asked. She hunched her shoulders at what Mentor's answer might be. She did not want to have to fight him. Though Ross' blood still gave her the feeling of superhuman power, she knew that she was no match for Mentor.
"I'm going to help him change over. Ross made him one of us. Now . . . I have to help him. Get out of here, Dell. Take your young man. Go wait outside."
Dell watched a moment before leaving. She felt guilty and relieved all at once. She saw Mentor sit down by the body and place his hand on the old man's bandaged forehead.
So that is what he did for me, she thought. When I died. And now the man is dying, too, and he will be vampire. Just as he had hoped. Just as he'd wanted.
He has been granted his last wish because of me.
~*~
Charles Upton swooned into a dream as the huge vampire snatched him up and sank fangs into his neck. He fought, an instinct he couldn't help, trying to free himself from the vampire's embrace. His mind screamed out in denial that it was happening. Though he'd dreamed of it, hunted for it, and lusted for it the way another man might lust for fame or fortune or a woman, when it actually began to occur, he wanted to get away from it. He felt his life leave him by increments, moving from his old body into the firm young body of the vampire. He could not fight him off, could not free himself, couldn't even cry out for help.
I don't want to die, he thought finally, in the last seconds of his dying throes. I want to be like you, like you, make me like you and together we'll rule the world. . . .
And then all was darkness. Someone sat nearby him and commanded that he rise. He sat, opening his eyes and looking around. It couldn't be heaven and his companion was not an angel. He was in a frightful place that merely resembled Earth but he knew it was not. It was somewhere he did not want to be.
"Help me," he cried, turning and clutching the old man's hand who sat beside him. "Help me, mister. Who are you?"
"I am Mentor, and I've come to guide you. What kind of soul do you have?"
"I am a good man . . ."
"You are a cruel, ruthless, sinful man. I suspect that is your soul showing, but I may be wrong. What kind of soul do you have, Mr. Upton?"
Upton heard something rustling not far away and he turned to see. There were bare trees all around and dark, thick forest debris where he sat. It crawled with things. He could feel them beneath his skinny buttocks, could sense them moving and wriggling through the leaves and decomposed matter, seeking his flesh. He scrambled to his feet. The rustling he'd heard strengthened and turned into the roaring sound of a locomotive. He beg
an to tremble and clutched Mentor's hand so tightly his fist hurt. "What's that?" he whispered.
"Look up," Mentor instructed.
Upton looked beyond the stands of bare limbs at the night sky and the full red moon. It began to melt and drip. "Eiiii!"
"You are in the place of the Predator Maker. He is coming for you. Shall we flee? Do you want to stay and wait for him, Mr. Upton? It's up to you. There are other choices, less violent choices."
Upton was immobile, his hand clutched around Mentor's hand. He saw the thing coming now. It bore down on them from the woods, rushing through the trees with a long wailing cry. It was as large as the world. It was taller than trees, greater than the bloody moon. It blocked out the stars and the heavens above. Upton could not move. He could feel its power. He knew he wanted it. He wanted this thing to invade him, to take him to its bosom and whisk him to its home.
"I urge you to flee," Mentor said, gently prying Upton's hand loose so that he could step back. "If you stay, you will be his."
The beast was nearly upon them. It was dressed in layers of black that were more night than cloth. A hood covered its head and from beneath it eyes as large as fists shone yellow bright. Below the eyes all that could be seen were white, glistening teeth, teeth as sharp as razors, rows and rows of them that went back into the horrid head to a pit of darkness.
Upton fell back and threw out his arms. "Go ahead and take me!" he screamed. "I am yours!"
Mentor stood by silently, his head bowed. He would not watch while the Predator took the old man and made him. He had never been able to watch. It had happened to him when he'd first died and he could not watch it when others invited the Predator into their souls.
When it was done—the gurgling and frightful moans, the rattles of death and the susurration of last breath—Mentor watched the corpse for new life. The old man's eyes opened but a slit and within them was a wicked glint. From out of their depths Mentor saw the new hunger.
SCROLLS OF THE DEAD-3 Complete Vampire Novels-A Trilogy Page 25