City Of The Damned: Expanded Edition

by Stephen Knight

  Suddenly her breath caught in her throat. She reached out and grabbed the handhold built into the passenger door, her knuckles turning white with exertion. A small scream escaped her lips as she stiffened in her seat, every muscle locked up as if she were in the throes of a seizure. She was vaguely aware the same thing was happening to Sharon. The cool emotional vibe she had been emanating melted like candle wax in a blast furnace. The car skidded to a halt.

  Claudia mewled again as something red hot snapped across her empathic senses like a fiery cat-o-nine-tails. Something momentous had happened, something strong enough to generate a monumental burst of emotional energy. The energy felt filthy to her, primal, disgusting, and tainted.

  It was gone in an instant, leaving her heart pounding and her head spinning. Her stomach heaved. She threw open the passenger door and hurled a great rush of hot vomit into the night. Within seconds, she was soaked by the driving rain. Claudia retched again and again, until there was nothing left in her stomach but a dull, insistent pain. With a trembling hand, she wiped her mouth, leaned back, and slammed the door shut.

  “You felt it, too?” Sharon asked. Her tone was conversational, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

  “What was it?” Claudia asked.

  “Vampires,” Sharon said. “Vampires dying. A lot of vampires.”

  Claudia struggled to catch her breath. “What do you mean?”

  Sharon shrugged in the darkness and accelerated up the grade. The pale light from the dashboard barely illuminated her face, so Claudia couldn’t judge her expression. But she could feel the conflicting emotions inside Sharon as if they were her own.

  “The team must’ve killed them. Hundreds of them.”

  “How… how can you know that?” Claudia whispered.

  “Take the right turn in one hundred feet,” the navigation system advised. Sharon took her foot off the accelerator and brought the Honda to a halt. She put it in PARK and turned to face Claudia.

  “You have to go on alone,” she said. “They can’t see us together. I’ll follow you. Don’t worry, I won’t be far away.”

  That’s not very comforting, Claudia thought. Sharon smiled as if she could read her thoughts.

  “Don’t worry—I haven’t turned yet. See?” She grinned, exposing human teeth in the tepid light.

  “What will you do?” Claudia asked.

  Sharon shook her head. “You don’t need to know. You just find Chiho and get her the hell out of there.” She pulled the stolen cell phone from one of the cargo pockets on her trousers and switched it on.

  “I’ll call Mark as soon as I know where you’ve been taken. All right?”

  Claudia nodded. She swallowed, her throat still burning from the stomach acid.

  “Will you be all right?” she asked. “They’ll know you’re here, Sharon. They can sense you if you can sense them.”

  Sharon nodded. “But there’s not a lot they can do to me if they catch me” She smiled humorlessly. “And I’m not about to let them catch me, Claud.”

  “Okay.” It was all Claudia could say.

  “Take care of yourself,” Sharon said. She unfastened her seat belt and reached for the door handle. Claudia embraced her suddenly, and Sharon stiffened in surprise. The embrace was strong and heartfelt.

  “I don’t think I’ll see you again,” Claudia said, “so I just want to thank you.”

  Sharon hugged her back with one arm. “Take care of yourself,” she repeated, then threw open the driver’s door. She stepped into the black night and slammed the door shut behind her. Claudia watched her cross in front of the Honda. Their eyes met for one last time, and Claudia saw that Sharon still looked human—despite the ferocity of the weather outside, she was just as human as she’d ever been, and Claudia felt guilt for ever having doubted that.

  Sharon disappeared into the thickets on the side of the road. In an instant, she was gone.

  Claudia clambered over the Honda’s center console and slipped behind the steering wheel. She fastened her safety belt, put the vehicle in gear, and headed up the hill for her rendezvous.

  ***

  The death of the newlings slammed into Osric like a tsunami. He snarled and tore at the lid of his casket with his talons as if it were a mortal enemy, ripping apart the silk headliner. He yelled in rage and pain and grief, for he knew that his clan, his Family, had been ripped asunder.

  He threw open the casket lid with enough strength to shear it from its hinges. He leaped out of the coffin and roared like an enraged lion, sending the newlings and higher vampires scampering away from the white-hot eye of his rage. Even Helena cowered before his fury, hiding behind Stahl like a frightened child. Stahl stood as still as a statue, but eyes downcast. Only Rodrigo held his ground, gazing at Osric with a vacant expression.

  “How dare they!” Osric shouted. He spun around and faced each and every vampire in the darkened cellar. The lesser ones retreated, mewling pathetically. Even Stahl stepped backwards, knocking Helena to the cold cement floor.

  “How dare they!” Osric thundered again.

  “Lord, it was to be expected.” Rodrigo’s voice was low, reasonable, a tiny island of calm that refused to be overrun by the storm of Osric’s rage. “They are our enemies. They know to strike at us when we are weak. This tactic is not new.”

  Osric snarled and fell to his knees. He slammed his fists into the concrete floor, leaving spidery cracks in the cement. He struck again, this time pulverizing the concrete, sending clouds of dust into the air. He clenched his fists with such force that his talons sliced open his palms and black ichor dripped onto the cracked flooring.

  “The fault is mine… the responsibility is mine,” he whispered after a time. He pushed himself to his feet and turned to look at Rodrigo. “A result of my arrogance, wouldn’t you say?” Osric asked the youthful-looking Spaniard.

  Rodrigo’s silent stare was all the answer he needed.

  Osric examined his palms. The wounds he had inflicted on himself had vanished, leaving no trace of their existence.

  “Not all is lost, my Lord,” Rodrigo said. “Tremaine was warned by the Nero woman, and he was able to get word to the servants at the warehouse. Veronika and Sven are safe. And you have all those who remain here.” Rodrigo motioned to the small horde of vampires that cowered in the darkness. “The Family still lives.”

  “This?” Osric snorted. “This is scarcely a pack, Rodrigo.”

  Rodrigo bowed his head. “As you wish, my Lord.”

  Osric felt the cold rage emanating from Rodrigo, the same rage he himself felt at the decimation of the great clan. Hundreds murdered… by pathetic mortals!

  But there was something else coloring Rodrigo’s anger. The Spaniard’s fury was directed at him. This revelation almost brought a smile to Osric’s dead lips—Rodrigo had buried his hot temper under layers of discipline developed over the centuries, but at his core, he would always be rebellious. Osric almost envied him for it.

  “No matter. What is done is done. There are greater things to attend to this night. Tell me more news, Rodrigo.”

  “Your servant Tremaine arranged to bring the Nero woman here, in accordance with your plans. Also, I sense the woman named Sharon Thompson is very close to Turning—and she is drawing near to us, as well.”

  “She turns only because of your intercession, dear Rodrigo,” Osric said. “Apparently the mortals working for Acheson and Ellenshaw have come up with a process that might very well arrest the Turning process one day.” He smiled and ran a hand through his dark hair. “A shame they won’t be able to perfect it.” He frowned suddenly. “And speaking of our old friend Ellenshaw, where has he been, I wonder?”

  “Perhaps leading the attack against our clan to the south?”

  Osric’s frown deepened. “Perhaps. Perhaps.”

  “It is obvious where the rest of the enemy is,” Rodrigo said. “My Lord, even though the storm you summoned rages at full strength, I wonder if it might be best for
us if we were to relocate?”

  Osric considered this for a long moment, then shook his head. “No. We have much work to do before the Ancient Ones can step across into this world, and that must occur on this night. Despite the setbacks, all is starting to come together. Sharon and the Nero woman draw near. The storm provides us with cover, and shields us from the damned sunlight. I admit there is some risk, but it must be withstood.”

  Rodrigo said nothing, but Osric sensed his displeasure. He placed a hand on Rodrigo’s shoulder.

  “After tonight, the Family shall be yours, Rodrigo. Take Sharon and the Hara woman as your personal concubines. Either alone would make an exceptional follower, but together they will assist you in ensuring your new clan survives forever.”

  “And what of Claudia Nero?” Rodrigo asked. “Will she also walk the Earth as one of our kind?”

  Osric shook his head slowly. “She serves another purpose. Stahl!”

  “Yes, my Lord,” the tall, expressionless vampire said, his gaze directed to the concrete floor.

  “Ensure the grounds are guarded. While I do not think the mortals will find us here, Rodrigo has a point. I have been complacent. See to our security.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” Stahl repeated. He barked commands to the newlings and lesser vampires, and they crept out of their hiding places. None of them looked in Osric’s direction.

  “Not you, darling Helena,” Osric said when she followed Stahl up the stairs. “Stay with me for a time, won’t you?”

  Helena turned to him, her pale face an expressionless mask. Osric drifted over to her and touched her cold cheek.

  “Not to worry,” he cooed. “I won’t harm you. Not now, not ever.”

  22

  “According to the satellite data, that truck’s heading for the hills,” Cosmatos said.

  The truck left the freeway at Hollywood Boulevard. Fenster kept the van several hundred yards behind the larger vehicle. Cars and trucks littered the rain-swept freeway, as the vehicles had either been in accidents or merely abandoned by their drivers.

  “Hollywood Boulevard,” Fenster said. “It would figure these things would be hanging out in Hollyweird. They’d stand out less than the damned tweakers.”

  “Find the address of the warehouse owner,” Ellenshaw said as Fenster eased the blue van down the exit ramp. “That Schwimmer fellow.”

  “Why do you want to know that?” Cosmatos asked.

  “Just do it, please,” Ellenshaw said as he stared into the night through his NVGs.

  “Sure thing,” Cosmatos said, though the tone of his voice indicated he wasn’t very happy about it. Licht heard that as well, and he drifted to the back of the van. Ellenshaw smiled when he heard him give Cosmatos an ass-chewing, albeit a whispered one.

  Occasionally, Ellenshaw lost sight of the truck. This was unnerving, but there was no other way. Even through the darkness of night and the gloom of the hurricane, if the drivers of the truck saw the Ford van in their rearview mirrors, it would doubtless arouse suspicion.

  “They’re looking into the residential information you wanted,” Cosmatos said after a moment.

  “Thanks,” Ellenshaw said as Licht moved back into position between the two front seats.

  “What’s up with the house?” Licht asked.

  “They’re obviously not all together,” Ellenshaw said. “And Osric is far too pretentious to stay in something as common as a warehouse. When I was speaking to Sharon Thompson earlier, she mentioned Osric was in Los Angeles because he needed the challenge… and to see something. I’m thinking he wants to watch from the hills as L.A. goes down.”

  “And you’re thinking the guy who owned the casket business has a home in the hills, and that Osric’s all for the jetliner views?”

  “He’s not particularly complex,” Ellenshaw said. “He’s old Romanian royalty. He appreciates the finer things, even if they’re no longer as useful to him now as they were when he was still human. He’s ambitious, but doesn’t like to go without the trappings of a successful man. As old as he is, he still hasn’t learned that you can’t take it all with you.”

  “The address is 2173 West Live Oak, in Los Feliz,” Cosmatos reported from the back. “A gated estate on a full acre that overlooks the city and the Pacific. European style mansion that was built in 1942. Owner is Noam Schwimmer.”

  Ellenshaw nodded. “A European mansion? I see that Osric still has a hankering for the old country. Give whomever you spoke with my thanks—that’s a mother lode of information. We need to get that to Acheson’s team as soon as possible.”

  “They already know,” Cosmatos said. “They’re the ones who called in the address.”

  Ellenshaw frowned. “How did they beat us there?”

  “They didn’t,” Cosmatos said. “But Sharon did. She called Acheson direct. The team’s on their way there now.”

  “What else?”

  “That’s everything,” Cosmatos said. “Seems like the data’s still fragmented.”

  “The residence is owned by Schwimmer, though?”

  “Yep. That info came from the tax assessor’s database.”

  “West Live Oak… better find us a place to set up there.”

  “Hold on.” There was a lengthy pause, and then Cosmatos came back with the news. “There’s only one street we could use to set up an observation post, and that would be the southern end of Mountain Oak Drive. I’m not sure if it would give us direct visibility, though.”

  “An acre’s a lot of land for that area,” Licht said. “What about a street behind the registered address?”

  “Got Verde Oak Drive, right behind it. It’s got to butt up against the property line. Or maybe the estate has two entrances.”

  Licht looked at Ellenshaw. “Well?”

  Ellenshaw sighed and stared out at the lightless streets of Hollywood. Hollywood Boulevard was completely dark. Despite the weather, figures shambled about in the storm: drug addicts and the homeless, searching for shelter. Ellenshaw knew many of them would wake up dead if he and Acheson’s team couldn’t get things straightened out in the next few hours.

  “Contact the containment team,” Ellenshaw said.

  ***

  Acheson drove Cecil’s Excursion up the Harbor Freeway as fast as he dared. Despite its weight, the vehicle swayed back and forth in the gale, and the windshield wipers barely kept up with the pouring rain. He had the huge SUV in four-wheel drive due to the water that cascaded across the freeway. In some lower areas, it splashed against the doors, despite the truck’s three-inch lift. They were lucky to make thirty miles an hour, and even that felt suicidally fast.

  They had found their way to Interstate 105 and were working travelling eastbound when Sharon called Acheson’s cell. His surprise that cellular service was still available was replaced by near shock that Sharon had managed to break out of the Plant… and that she was within spitting distance of what remained of Osric’s clan.

  Sharon had followed as Claudia was picked up by one of Osric’s human servants and taken to the big house on West Live Oak Drive, only a few hundred feet away. If she hadn’t managed to see the car drive through the estate’s gate, she wouldn’t have even known it was there. After giving Acheson the address, she relayed everything that had transpired since she and Claudia had escaped from the Plant, finishing with tracking Claudia and the human servants to the big mansion where she believed Osric and his minions waited.

  “Don’t do anything,” Acheson pleaded with her after she had given her report. “Just sit tight and wait for us to get there.”

  “I don’t have a lot of time left, babe,” Sharon had responded. “If I don’t get in now, I might not have a chance to do anything before I Turn. And they have to know I’m here. They’re probably expecting me.”

  “All the more reason for you to chill until we can get there.”

  “Can’t. Sorry,” Sharon had said, and then the line went dead. Acheson swore and tried to call back, but to no avail. The call went int
o the original owner’s voice mail.

  With no other recourse, Acheson continued on his way, pointing the big Ford toward the Santa Monica Mountains. Beside him, Julia cleaned her MP-5 submachine gun. Behind him, Cecil changed out the barrel on his SAW, and Nacho tended to his dogs in the very rear of the vehicle. Acheson had already changed out his AA-12’s ammo drum and loaded it up with high-explosive minigrenades. They would be more useful during a forced entry operation. He could blast a door off its hinges in less than two seconds.

  “Two-Six, this is TOC, over.”

  Acheson recognized Jerry Licht’s voice. He switched the headset to voice-activated so he could keep both hands on the steering wheel.

  “This is Two-Six. Go ahead.”

  “Two-Six, TOC. We have the target address. There aren’t a lot of sites where we can establish a line-of-sight O.P. of the residence. We’re about ten minutes out. How do you want us to play this? Over.”

  “Ellenshaw, are you listening in?”

  “Right here, Mark.”

  “What’s the SITREP?”

  “SITREP is this: We’re off the Hollywood Freeway and driving up Los Feliz Boulevard right now. We no longer have direct visual on the truck, but satellite tracking has it on East Live Oak. It’s headed right for the house Sharon said they would be using. It makes sense, as it was owned by Schwimmer and it gives Osric a view of his new kingdom. Over.”

  Acheson thought about the TOC’s position. The house that Osric had taken over was below the one he and Sharon had lived in a lifetime ago, up on Mulholland Drive.

  “Get to Edgemont Street. Pull to the curb and wait there. I’ll give you more instructions once we’re on-site, over.”

  There was a long pause. “Ellenshaw, do you copy? Over.”

  “Roger, Mark. I’m just not sure what it is you’re hoping to achieve by holding us up. I thought the old playbook was dead. Over.”

  “Sharon’s already inside the AO,” Acheson said. “If she can, she’ll get us updates faster than the TOC could. Plus, you’d be sitting ducks. We took out a huge number of vamps in El Segundo, but Osric isn’t sitting in a house in the hills all by himself. Head for Edgemont and hold—we’ll call you when we want you. Two-Six out.” Acheson reached down to the transmitter on his belt and took it out of VOX mode.