“Be careful,” Nial called as Marcus followed him to the door.
Chapter Twenty-Two
After giving Rick general directions for the gun range, Marcus settled back in the passenger seat and tried to relax. Traffic was congested, for the commuters were all trying to get home for the day, but the bulk of it was heading north, while they were going south. Once they swung east and started heading out of town again, they would be in the thick of it.
Rick drove well, with precision and attention. Of course, his reactions were superb and Marcus relaxed a little more. He generally didn’t like being driven anywhere and the trip to Nial’s place, with Roman at the wheel, had been uncomfortable, but it was the only way Roman would take him to see Nial, so he had put up with it.
Now, the silence settled between them, thick and full of thoughts. Marcus found he was worrying over the same questions. Why had Ilaria reached out to him, so soon after that last contact? Was something wrong? It didn’t make sense for Heru to send her back so quickly.
He shifted in his seat as his concern seemed to grab at his chest and squeeze. “Tell me about Heru,” he asked, at last. “Everyone keeps telling me they’ll explain about him later. What is it with him that seems to have even Nial worried? He strikes me as the kind of guy who can handle anything thrown at him.”
“Nathaniel Aquila Valerius Aurelius is fifteen hundred years old,” Rick replied. “He was born when the old Roman empire was breaking apart under repeated invasions by endless enemies. He has survived every war and battle since then and still manages to look upon the world with hope. He is unlike any other vampire you might yet meet.”
“Why?”
“Other vampires made before and after Nial’s making have withered away. They lose touch with the modern world – it is too difficult for them to adjust and adapt. They grow weary of change and withdraw into little worlds of their own making. They’re called the unspoken ones, and most of them do not think like you and I think. They fall back on old behaviors, the ones that are familiar to them.”
“Old habits like inscription?”
“Customs as old as inscription,” Rick agreed, “but no one uses inscription anymore – or we believed they did not. Because of the wealth of the old ones, there are too many willing servants, and their retreats are cozy, well-armored nests. It makes inscription unnecessary. Danich Wulfson, who made Ilaria and inscribed her…I believe he was old. Over a thousand years. I heard a whisper once that he was made in Vinland.”
“That was at the turn of the first millennium,” Marcus pointed out. “That’s a good thousand years, like you heard.”
“One like Danich…he would like the idea of inscription. He held an old fashioned point of view about vampires and their place in the world. Ilaria’s enslavement surprised me. But the man who inscribed her…that was not a surprise, once I learned his name.” Rick’s mouth turned down.
“And Heru?” Marcus asked, getting back to his original question. “He’s one of these old ones, isn’t he?”
“He is one of the oldest surviving unspoken ones. He may be the oldest. He came out of Egypt, when it was a land called Kemet – almost before the written word was created.”
“If the other old ones have all withered, like you said, then how come he’s mixing it with humans and vampires so well?”
“He doesn’t mix well at all,” Rick replied flatly. “He is so old, he is one of the original nocturnal ones. He can’t move around in daylight. It weakens him to the point of collapse, and he cannot see. All his senses are blunted during the day. Also, he can only communicate via a translator who knows his language and dialect. I don’t know if that inability is a result of ego or laziness,” Rick added.
“You know him, don’t you?” All Rick’s phrasing implied a personal relationship.
“I was his aide and personal assistant for twenty years.” Again, Rick grimaced. “It was not a personal choice to take on the role. I was, I suppose, a spy for another.”
Marcus absorbed that. The problem with vampires, he was also learning, was that a direct answer to one question invariably led to a thousand more, that would lead to a thousand of their own questions. Everything he learned about them merely illustrated just how much he had left to learn. It was fascinating, but it made him feel ignorant, too.
He returned to the main question. “If Heru is so stunted in his movements, how has he managed to take control of the League?”
“Oh, he may be limited by daylight, but don’t make the mistake of thinking that Menes Heru is weak. He has powers – all the old ones do – that reach beyond the capabilities of mere vampires, and he uses them to their full extent.”
“Like what?” Marcus insisted.
Rick rolled his eyes. “Teleportation. Telekinesis.”
“You don’t like talking about him, do you?”
“He scares me,” Rick said flatly.
“You worked with him for twenty years,” Marcus pointed out.
“And I was afraid for twenty years.” Rick took the exit onto Ontario Freeway. The car slowed as he merged with the slower, thicker traffic.
Marcus could feel the blooming of trepidation and tendrils of fear, too. This monster had Ilaria tied to him mentally?
“The sun has set completely. Heru is free to move, now,” Rick said, breaking Marcus’ thoughts.
He looked about him. The Eclipse’s headlights were illuminating the car in front, while the houses and industrial buildings lining the street were glowing with lights. The sky was pitch black. He glanced at his watch. Ilaria hadn’t set a time, but the tone of her text implied he should get there as soon as possible. They were still thirty minutes away from the hills and a good fifty minutes from the range.
Marcus distracted himself by reaching for another puzzle. “When I first arrived at the house this afternoon, you gave me the impression that you were willing to rip my guts out at any second. You even said that once. But now, you’re helping me.”
“I’m not helping you,” Rick replied. “This is only about Ilaria. Don’t try to read anything else into it.”
“But you’re being pleasant and answering my questions. I get the impression you don’t do that for many people.”
“Is this a habit of yours, this asking of personal questions?” Rick shot back.
“I suppose it is. And you’re ducking my question.”
“I am forced to share your company for this journey, that is all.”
“So, you’re being polite? I don’t buy that for a second,” Marcus said. “You’re not the polite type.”
Rick grinned. It seemed to Marcus the grin caught him by surprise. It faded quickly. “What type am I, then?” His tone was one of curiosity, but Marcus wasn’t fooled. Rick was testing him. He wanted to know how accurately Marcus had measured him.
Marcus mentally rolled up his sleeves. “I don’t know how old you are,” he began, “but I don’t think your age is as relevant for you as it might be for someone like Nial because you were formed into what you are now because of the inscription. You buried it deep. No one knew until today – I’m sorry about that, by the way. It was a shitty way for it to come out.”
“Thank you,” Rick said dryly.
“You probably think you had put it behind you and you were getting on with your life, but I think it’s been ruling your life and your behavior ever since you got free of it. You’re a driven man. You’re reaching for something, and I’m not sure even you know what it is, exactly. But the inscription has left you with a powerful determination not to waste anything, especially not time. Which is incredibly ironic for a vampire that theoretically has all of time at his disposal. That’s the reason you don’t like idiots – they waste your time with unnecessary explanations and accommodations. You don’t like emotions for much the same reason: They’re messy and slow you down. Just about everything in your life has been pared down to maximum efficiency. So things like social graces and pleasantries have been thrown overboard. God knows
how you find sex partners with the personality left over from that – and I know you avoid love. That’s the most complicated of the emotions.”
Rick was silent for a long time. Then he stirred and settled himself in the seat once more. His eyes were on the road ahead. “I suppose emotions are something you like to play with?”
“I’m good at understanding them…and people,” Marcus agreed.
“That’s not a skill your CIA colleagues would value, so why did they recruit you?”
“Who says I was recruited?” Marcus demanded.
“You’re not the type to volunteer. So what drew their attention to you?”
“Does it matter?”
Rick’s gaze flickered toward him, then back to the road. He didn’t press the question any further. “I already know a lot about you from Kate. She is good at passing on anything she thought interesting, and that apparently included you. So I know that something happened in Tangier a few years ago that got you busted back to the States in disgrace. I think that whatever it was, it involved you and messy emotions…possibly love.” He glanced at Marcus. “Your heart just spiked. I’m right, then.”
“You…can hear my heart?”
“It’s slamming against your chest. Yes, I can hear it.” He nodded ahead, toward the road. “Right at Cajon?”
“Yes.” Marcus tried to keep resentment out of his voice. He’d stripped Rick’s personality down to the bone, after all.
Rick flipped the turning indicator. “I know that your life since Tangier has been bleak. You drink too much and you smoke pot – I can smell traces of both of them. You live on Surfrider Beach, which is probably how you keep yourself in shape despite the booze and inadequate diet. You don’t like yourself much, but nothing has come along to give you a push out of the rut.”
Marcus drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his runaway heart, which was confirming everything for Rick. Smell, sound, and probably his clothing and appearance was speaking way too loud for his comfort.
“You didn’t like vampires until a couple of weeks ago. Ilaria changed that for you, and as you’re not a natural bigot, you’ve been working hard to overcome any remaining reluctance you have for us.” He added quietly, “It’s unusual to find a human who can deliberately make himself change like you have.”
“I don’t hate vampires. I don’t dislike them, either,” Marcus said. “I had never met one until ten days ago. Everything I knew about you was hearsay. The vampires I have met since…” He pushed his hand through his hair. “You’re all very different. You’re all quite unique in your own ways. I’ve liked every one I’ve met so far.”
“Give me time. I can change that for you,” Rick said, his tone dry.
“You like alienating people,” Marcus shot back. “It makes life simpler for you, the less of them you have to deal with.”
“You like digging through other peoples’ psyches. That’s how you avoid fixing your own.”
Marcus remained silent, for that one stung. As much as he didn’t like it, though, there was a kernel of truth in what Rick had said.
“That’s where we differ, you and I,” Rick added.
“We have nothing in common,” Marcus shot back, but it wasn’t true and he knew that Rick would recognize the petty protest for what it was. They had Ilaria in common.
“We’re more alike than you care to admit,” Rick replied. “We both like to find the answers to questions. But I dig through facts and events and you get your answers from people and emotions.”
Marcus ground his jaw together. He didn’t like that he agreed with him.
“Where we differ,” Rick finished, “is that you care about what you discover. For me, it is just data. Information that can be sorted to reveal more answers.”
“Kate calls you the biological computer,” Marcus told him. It was another petty attempt to even the score.
Rick smiled. “A compliment. How nice.”
Marcus laughed. He had no idea where it came from, but it erupted from him unexpectedly, easing some of his tension.
The silence that fell between them this time was easy and comfortable. Marcus gave occasional directions as the city fell behind them and the hills rose up around them.
They were five minutes away from the gun range when Rick spoke again. “From everything you said today, I know that you were kind to Ilaria. You treated her like a valued human.”
Marcus couldn’t find anything to respond to that. Rick seemed to have the ability to leave him speechless.
“That’s why I haven’t spilled your guts,” Rick added.
It was an explanation. It involved messy emotions, but Rick had explained himself. Marcus knew it was the closest Rick could come to an apology or peace offering.
Content, he let the silence build again and thought ahead to the gun range. What would happen when they got there?
* * * * *
The gun range was closed for the evening and as Rick drove very slowly through the parking lot they scanned the dark building. There was a spotlight at the end of the parking lot, shedding dull illumination over that end of the lot and the corner of the store, but the light wasn’t strong enough to reach the north end of the long building.
“I don’t like this,” Rick said.
“Makes two of us.” Marcus pulled out his gun, but kept the safety on. “Park over on the far side there. We can approach on foot.”
“He knows we’re here,” Rick pointed out.
“So let’s walk up to the front door,” Marcus replied.
Rick parked the car and switch off the engine. Marcus opened his door and listened. There was nothing but the rustle of leaves overhead. The air was damp with the promise of rain and a slight breeze fanned his face, cooling it.
He got out, keeping his gun hand down by his thigh, and looked around.
Rick rounded the front of the car and came up behind Marcus, to stand beside him.
“Something’s not right,” Marcus muttered.
“There are no security lights on in the store,” Rick pointed out.
Marcus scanned all the big windows, one by one. Nothing. Except the window to the far left, at the north end of the building where it was dark, showed a glowing, pulsing red.
“Fire,” Marcus breathed. He moved forward – or tried to – but Rick gripped his elbow.
“No, he wants you to rush in and find her.”
“How would he know—” Marcus began, when something solid and heavy hit the locked glass doors with an impact that made them bow and shiver.
It was Ilaria, her body pushed up against the glass, her hands flat on the panes. She was wearing the same teal colored trousers she had left his place in. But the silk top and the trousers were dirty now. Her hair was loose and tangled about her shoulders and face. There was dirt on her face, too.
Rick was gripping his arm with both hands now, physically hauling him backwards. “She can’t speak. She can’t move. Look at her!” he said sharply. “She is under Heru’s control.”
“That mental thing he does to her?” Marcus asked hoarsely, staring at her beautiful face. She seemed to looking straight at him. Her eyes were enormous, wide with bewilderment and fear.
Marcus’ chest was locked tight and there was a high, singing note playing in his mind. No, not singing. Karelia. It was the wind in the treetops, whistling.
“Oh, God….” he breathed. “He’s going to kill her.”
Rick glanced at him sharply, pulling his gaze away from his steady examination of the building. “You can’t kill us—”
“By fire?” Marcus finished.
“Not a little fire like this one,” Rick said dismissively. He strode forward. “Let’s have this over with.”
Marcus hurried to catch up with him, slipping the safety off his gun.
Bullets winged past them, punching out through the stucco side of the store and shattering glass in their wake. They both dropped to the gravel instantly and pain flared in Marcus’ hands as he scraped skin off
his palms.
“The ammunition is exploding from the heat,” Rick said. He lifted his head and looked up at the glass doors.
Marcus risked a glance. They were barely five meters from the steps up to the doors. As his gaze reached the door where Ilaria was pinned, she began to struggle. One hand reached very slowly, down toward the push bar, as if she were fighting for every inch of progress. Just as her fingers curled over the bar, she was ripped backwards, like a giant and invisible hand had plucked her away. She disappeared from their view.
“Ilaria,” Marcus croaked, fear building inside him like a roiling monster, stealing his voice and his thoughts.
“Heru yanked her back to him,” Rick whispered.
The whole store exploded with a deep roar and bellow of flames and smoke. The roof seemed to lift off the store altogether and rolling waves of flame curled over the edges, shrouded in black smoke, which made the cloud glow like a pyroclastic pall. All the windows blew out, glass tinkling onto the gravel in a solid rain. Marcus covered his head as the hot gas and super-heated air rushed over him. For a moment, his breath was snatched away by the blast.
His thoughts were frozen, too, except for one horrifying concept.
Ilaria!
Part II
Marcus and Rick
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rick knew that Nial and probably Sebastian and Roman at the very least were waiting in the limousine with the darkened windows that had pulled up as close as possible to the tape the police had strung around the scene. The limousine had arrived nearly an hour ago, but Rick had made no move toward it. He stayed propped against the trunk of his car, the air foils digging uncomfortably into the small of his back.
He waited for news, which he was sure Marcus would bring back to him. As a CIA operative, Marcus had dealt himself into the initial on-site investigation the police had started up within minutes of the fire trucks arriving, for they had been right on the heels of the trucks.
It had taken two hours for the firemen to get the blaze under control, and another two hours after that before the police would let anyone closer to the building than the edge of the parking lot, for bullets were still exploding unexpectedly. Even the firemen fighting the blaze had been held off from their work until they had shrugged into Kevlar vests underneath their fire suits.
Blood Unleashed (Blood Stone) Page 25