“We should head back,” he said.
As they rose from their chairs, Sharon removed her sunglasses. She looked at him directly for a moment.
“What?” Acheson asked.
“You haven’t kissed me,” she said. “I wonder why that is.”
Acheson smiled and rubbed his eyes. “It’s been a long day, hon. I’m sorry about that.” He walked around the table and pulled her into an embrace, kissing her gently on the lips. A husband and wife a few tables over looked on and smiled. One of the young boys made a retching noise, and his mother shushed him.
Acheson kissed her again, and led her back to the car. He dialed Nacho, who had parked somewhere nearby.
“We’re heading back for the garage,” he said.
“Roger that.”
4
Ellenshaw looked out the windows at the darkening city. Shadow started to overwhelm light, part of the usual cycle of life, but this time the implications were far more sinister. To him, Los Angeles had always been a dark place made artificially bright. It was a city in which people often gave in to the dark pursuits of drug addiction, hedonism, sybaritism, and criminal transgression against their fellow Angelenos. But that was a manmade darkness and one he had long grown accustomed to. What lurked about in the shadows now was something he never thought he would have to face in southern California.
Was Helena beginning to stir, coming out of her deep diurnal slumber? She’d been sleeping as the Undead for over a year now. Ellenshaw wondered how much power Osric had channeled through her to elevate her past the ghoul stage. It must have cost him dearly to get her past the primordial need for sustenance. And all for this gamble, to break apart the team and bring him back into the game. Osric’s ego knew no bounds.
And what he had done to Helena… what sort of existence she must have led. Hers had been a kind, good-spirited soul. Ellenshaw’s heart ached when he contemplated how she had been doomed to walk the Earth as one of the damned.
This led him to voice his next thought. “How is Sharon doing?” His voice seemed loud in the hulking Excursion’s passenger compartment. Chiho stirred uneasily beside him; Cecil and Rick exchanged looks up front.
“‘Bout as well as could be expected,” Cecil answered as he drove. In the deepening gloom, he had finally removed his sunglasses, but Ellenshaw couldn’t see his eyes in the rear view mirror. “She was holdin’ up okay when she left the Plant.”
“She left the Plant?” Chiho’s voiced incredulity matched that which Ellenshaw felt.
“Well, yeah…she and Mark took off. Sister was goin’ stir in there, had to get out. Kerr cleared her for it, so it’s not a big deal.” Cecil braked. Up ahead, taillights flared.
“Which is against procedure,” Ellenshaw said with a heavy sigh. “How long until we get there, Cecil?”
“A while.” Ahead of them, traffic slowly unspooled.
Ellenshaw nodded to himself and looked out the window. Another tour of darkness was underway.
***
Awakening.
It was like rebirth. Within an instant Osric went from complete inexistence to full sentience and sensation. During those hours when his body slept the sleep of the dead, he knew nothing. The entire planet marched on, and he knew nothing of its progress until he awakened. When he slept he was vulnerable, and he had to depend on humans, those weakling creatures he dominated and entreated with suggestions of immortality, to keep him safe from his enemies while he and his Family slept.
But when the sun’s rays shone their last across the darkening skies, the Family awoke. Those of status slept in coffins; newlings, who were more animal than anything else and needed the control of a strong mind, slept beneath blankets or cardboard boxes or in a simple heap wherever they could find sufficient darkness. Death’s dominion over both high and low castes lasted only for hours, never the promised eternity.
He swept open his great casket and sat up, completely alert, utterly vital. His senses were already fully attuned. Whereas even his fellow masters might need some time to reach their peak ability after awakening, Osric always emerged from death’s embrace completely functional. It was this ability he had developed that had saved him more than once, from humans and treacherous vampires alike. He slipped out of his resting place and sealed it behind him, then stepped toward a group of newlings. These new vampires were slow and slothful, emerging from the Dead Sleep with difficulty. Osric moved among them, using his presence as well as his body to spur them on. Soon they were awake and aware, groveling before him. Though their minds were still forming, they could feel his power and knew to pay homage whenever he was near.
“Rodrigo,” he called into the darkness.
Emerging from a coffin, Rodrigo still had youthful looks, even though he was several hundred years old. “Yes, Master.”
“Attend to the newlings. They will need to feed soon.”
“At once.”
There was more movement in the darkness. Osric stepped away from the cowering newlings and made his way across the subterranean room beneath the mansion he had claimed. It once had been a wine cellar, filled with esoteric vintages, some of which had been worth thousands of dollars. Osric’s personal slave, Tremaine, had seen to their disposal, liquidating the stock for as much cash as he could get. While Osric had no need for money, it was useful, and he always kept considerable sums in bank accounts throughout the world.
More of the Family greeted him. Almost all were lower masters. He nodded to them and even touched a few, those who had been with him the longest. He urged them to go upstairs and prepare. After all, the night would not last forever.
At that point he turned his attention to her.
She was still in her coffin, one he had procured specifically for her from the casket factory he now owned. It was made of polished mahogany, and it seemed to gleam even in almost total darkness. It was the type of casket that rich captains of industry would be buried in, and it was constructed to convey their final impression on the world they had departed. Osric opened the casket.
“Helena,” he whispered.
She lay in the coffin with her eyes closed. They opened at the sound of his voice and the brush of his power, which undulated over her slowly like the aftermath of a lover’s kiss. Her silver-in-black eyes sought out his, and she smiled when their gazes locked.
“He’s here,” she whispered. “He’s here now.”
Osric grinned with delight as he helped her out of the casket.
***
Tremaine looked up as the senior members of the Family emerged from the cellar. He busied himself with sweeping open the heavy drapes that led out to the main terrace. His master enjoyed gazing over the brightly lit city below, the city that he had claimed for his own. Other humans, in the service of the various masters that were part of the Family, set about their own tasks. One of the masters, a hulking German named Stahl, stalked through all the rooms accompanied by a group of mangy dogs. Tremaine feared this particular vampire, and with good reason: he was Osric’s chief enforcer and personal guard. Osric once told Tremaine that Stahl had been a mighty warrior of Germania during the time of the Roman Empire, which meant he was nearly as old as Osric himself. Unlike Osric, Stahl had adopted no particular graces, for his face was always dark and brooding, as if he were perpetually irritated with something. And his dogs! Tremaine had never seen such a collection of mutts in his life. They were practically feral, glaring at him with deranged eyes, saliva frothing at their mouths. Although dogs had a natural hatred for vampires, man’s best friend was also susceptible to their guile, and as such they could be controlled. But they never lasted long in the service of a Family. They began to look and behave as if rabid, eventually refusing food and water. Tremaine would have liked nothing more than to put them down.
The masters ignored Tremaine and focused on their own needs. Some took blood from the hostages that had been tied to beds on the upper floor; others conversed in whatever language suited them. They numbered twelve,
and they came from all parts of Europe and even America, though the Americans were lesser masters, too young to have amassed as much power as the old Europeans. One master was absent—the Spaniard Rodrigo. Osric had put him in charge of overseeing the shuffling, snarling newlings. They would be let loose on the city soon enough, Tremaine knew. Through Rodrigo, they would do Osric’s bidding.
Finally, Osric himself appeared. He cut a striking figure, standing six feet four inches tall. His mane of dark hair was parted slightly off center, and a shock of white hair sprouted from the widow’s peak on his forehead. His angular face was composed and serene, and he smiled at Tremaine as he approached. He looked splendid in a gray suit from one of the high-end European designers. If one overlooked his eyes and the pallor of his skin, one might regard him as a wealthy businessman.
On his arm was his newest lady, Helena, dressed in a billowing gown of lavenders and whites and grays. Her shoulders were bare, and her strawberry-blonde hair was held in place by an ivory hairpin. She also looked at peace, and Tremaine never failed to be amazed by her transformation. Just over a year ago she had been one of those hissing, spitting newlings. She had even tried to attack him once, hungering for his blood. And she would have had it, too, if not for Osric’s direct intervention.
“Tremaine,” Osric said by way of greeting. “The lady and I will have our usual on the balcony. Then join us, won’t you?”
“At once, my master,” Tremaine said, bowing his head as he swept open the glass door that led to the wide wraparound balcony attached to the main level of the house. The property was a three-story structure, with the lowermost floor consisting of the entertainment area, staff quarters, and a three-car garage. Tremaine bowed his head again as Osric led Helena past him, then closed it behind them.
He darted upstairs to the master bedroom suite and flipped on the lights. Tied spread-eagled to the bed was Noam Schwimmer. His skin was ghostly white, and the age spots on his body stood out in stark relief like bloodless bullet holes. He gave no indication he was aware of Tremaine’s presence, only stared at the ceiling overhead. Tremaine was thankful for that. He didn’t need any delays at the moment, just to collect a pint of Schwimmer’s blood for his master. The old casket magnate had the occasional honor of being his master’s personal appetizer.
An IV needle was inserted in Schwimmer’s neck, sunk deep into his carotid artery. Tremaine turned the brake on the line, and bright red blood flowed into the tubing that led to a plastic bag hanging on a nearby IV tree. Tremaine watched the bag fill, wondering if he would be repulsed by the substance when he first tried to feed as a member of the Family. In his current state, he felt no attraction to blood whatsoever. But that would change when he was reborn as a newling, as it was the only substance that could sustain him.
The bag filled, and Tremaine reapplied the IV brake. He unhooked the bag from the tree and hurried downstairs. He poured the contents of the bag into two pilsner glasses and brought them out to the balcony. Osric and Helena sat at one of the tables regarding the twinkling lights of Los Angeles below.
“Here you are, master. My lady.” Tremaine set a glass before each of them, along with white cloth napkins. A chill breeze rustled through the canyons tonight.
Helena sampled hers greedily, then made a face. “It’s too cold,” she hissed.
Osric sipped his. “Cold blood has its own appeal, my darling. An acquired taste, but one worth developing.”
Helena glared at Tremaine with vengeful eyes. Tremaine stepped back. Despite Osric spending great time and energy, Helena occasionally fell victim to bestial impulses.
“Be calm, Helena. Do you wish Tremaine to warm your drink?”
Helena recovered and smiled at Osric sweetly. Her fangs glistened in the glow of the city lights below.
“This will be fine, my master.” Her voice was much like a child’s. Tremaine wondered if that was how it sounded when she had still been among the living.
“Then drink. Tremaine and I must talk for a moment.”
“Shall I leave, my master?”
“Stay right where you are and look out over our city.” Osric smiled at the small vampire for a moment, then cut his eyes toward Tremaine. Tremaine was seized by an unnamable force, and before he knew it, he had slid into a chair and joined them at the table.
“Tremaine,” Osric said, still smiling. “Do tell me of the day’s events. Have our enemies dispersed?”
“They have, my master. To where, I was unable to determine, but they have vacated their offices in the Bank Tower.”
“No matter. They’ll turn up, I guarantee it.” Osric smiled at Helena again, as one might a favored child. He reached across the table and touched one of her hands. “Our dear Helena tells me Ellenshaw has arrived. His flunky Acheson ran to him after we took his woman. Soon, we’ll only need to wait for them to come to us.”
Tremaine nodded. “As my master says.”
Osric frowned. “You feel they’re still a threat?”
“I… I wouldn’t know, my master. Certainly, they have killed families before.” Tremaine paused for a moment to summon his courage. “Isn’t it possible they could do so again?”
Osric drank and wiped his mouth with one of the towels. He studied the stain on the white cloth for a moment.
“We have our darling Helena here to warn us,” he said. “You see, she has the skill of empathy, something even I do not possess. She can sense the presence of others by their emotional signature. Once I was able to determine she was one of Ellenshaw’s principal weapons against us, I had to have her.”
Again, Osric reached across the table and squeezed Helena’s hand as she drank. She swallowed and beamed at him. Blood glistened on her pale lips.
“Are you happy to be one of the Family, dear Helena?”
“Oh yes,” Helena said.
“Do you miss your old life?”
“Never! I never even think of it. I was weak then. I needed a man like Ellenshaw to keep me safe. Now I am complete, and you and the Family are my power.”
“Liberating, isn’t it?” Osric jerked his chin toward the city below. “To be forever free of them?”
“Yes, my master.” Helena laughed, and drank more blood. Osric frowned and held out a napkin to her.
“You mustn’t sully your clothes. Wipe your mouth. There’s a good dear.” Osric leaned back and looked at Tremaine. “But there’s another part to it, Tremaine. While I can rely on Helena to alert me to their presence, I can depend on Acheson’s bitch to alert me to their plans.”
Helena giggled. “Sharon… so stupid! Wanting a family with a man like Acheson!”
Tremaine asked, “My master, you can read her mind?”
Osric looked down at the city lights again. “Not yet. But my vision into her mind will increase the closer she comes to Turning. Right now, all I know is that she exists somewhere down there.” Osric pointed to the city. “But it’s a transitory thing, a scant glimmer of light in the darkness.”
Osric finished his drink in one hungry draught, then wiped his mouth. “It’s time, darling.” Osric rose and took Helena’s hand. He held it while she got to her feet. Tremaine rose also.
“We’ll be going into the city tonight, Tremaine. You’ll drive us in the limo. While Rodrigo and Anthony take the newlings out hunting, we and the rest of the Family shall partake of some of the delights this city has to offer.”
5
In Ellenshaw’s time, the Plant had been located back east and was officially part of Fort Dietrick. It made sense then, as the research into the vampiric pathogens had been conducted by the Army in a top-secret laboratory. But today the facility was located near the heart of Alhambra. Ellenshaw found the wisdom of such relocation debatable, but a reasonable argument could be made for the move. After all, if a vampire were captured alive, best to have Containment Team 6 on hand to ensure it didn’t get away—and if it did, to hunt it down and kill it.
“Home sweet home,” Cecil said as he swiped his card
at the electric reader on the street. Ellenshaw watched from the back seat as the heavy gate slid open. Rick Wallace exited the vehicle and kept his eyes peeled as the SUV pulled through. He ensured the gate locked into place behind the Excursion.
Cecil and Chiho exited the vehicle as Rick hurried toward them. Rick swiped his card through the reader next to a gray metal door and pulled it open while Ellenshaw alighted from the SUV, hauling his bag with him. There was a chill to the air, and the streets beyond the razor-wire fences were quiet and deserted.
“Doc, you’ll crash here,” Cecil said as they escorted Ellenshaw to one of the bunk rooms. “We’re in a contingency situation, so no hotels with room service.”
Julia McGuiness walked toward them. Her light brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she looked exhausted. For the first time, Ellenshaw noticed all of them did.
“Good to see you again, Robert,” Julia said, shaking his hand. “Once you get squared away, you’re invited to a tactical meeting.”
Ellenshaw hurled his bag into his room. “Squared away.”
Cecil laughed. “Damn, when did you get so eager?”
“Ever since I found out Osric was still walking the Earth.”
***
The conference room was well appointed, with a long rectangular table and comfortable chairs. It had an entire audio-visual setup consisting of multiple speakers, an overhead projector, and two large LED displays for videoconferencing. The room was surrounded by thick glass walls that gave the impression of openness, but large shades could be lowered to provide privacy. As Julia led Ellenshaw into the conference room, he noticed Acheson seated at the far end of the table going through what could only be intelligence summaries. And on one of the LCD displays was the visage of Erskine Fiedler. As usual, the wiry bald technocrat was speaking into a telephone, though the audio was muted on his end.
“Hello Mark,” Ellenshaw said before Julia announced him.
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