"Yes, sir," the sentry said and then saluted.
Once Lotinger and Hank were through, the elevator doors closed behind them. The room inside was dimly lit and medium-sized. It looked like an office to Hank. In the middle sat a large, sturdy, darkly finished desk with many papers and things scattered about its surface. Behind the desk, sitting in an oversized leather desk chair, someone was facing away from them. Hank's withdrawals intensified as he recognized a scent in the air. It was weak, but he could have smelled even a drop of it with perfect clarity at this point.
"Welcome, Mr. Evans," a voice said from the chair. Hank felt as if he were in a sort of vacuum, the sounds of the room were crisp and echoless. "Have a seat, I will be with you in a moment." The Emperor's voice sounded scratchier than Hank remembered from television. Hank was confused as to why he was being made to wait, as the Emperor seemed to be just sitting there, doing nothing. Just as soon as this thought entered Hank's mind, the chair swiveled, and he was surprised at what he saw. It was the Emperor, all right. He was wearing his blinding white robe, as he always seemed to be. But something was very different about him. His brown eyes were very bloodshot, yet he looked younger than Hank remembered. His hair had been somewhere between gray and white but now it was just gray. But his skin was what stuck out most. It had been slightly wrinkled in the past few years, but was now youthful in appearance.
"I'm going to get right to the point, Mr. Evans, I have a business proposition to offer you, and I think you will find yourself quite," he paused, "unmistakably," then leaned back, "unable to refuse." His smile gave off a look of compassion mixed with contempt. Hank found himself tongue tied as he sat shaking wildly. With what little coherence he had, he wondered why he was still alive.
The Emperor cleared his throat and continued. "I have once again found myself in need of a mediator, thanks to unfortunate events that occurred last night, and your ability to survive, where no man has formerly done so, has given me the expectation that you would manage this position considerably more successfully than your predecessors," he said and laughed.
Even in his current position, Hank wanted nothing in the world less than to ever go back to that dreadful city. He found himself shaking his head almost as insuppressibly as the rest of his body.
The Emperor's good humor vanished as his mouth lined up completely straight. "You will find it to your benefit to know the consequences of not accepting my offer before you decide so hastily, Mr. Evans."
In an instant, Hank found his chair swiveled around and facing a large screen mounted on the wall. Looking over his shoulder, he could see a hand grasping the back of his chair. It belonged to the man who had called himself Charles Lotinger. Hank turned back to face the display. Static filled the screen and then flickered until an image took its place. There, in black and white, was Toby. The boy was curled up and crumpled in the corner of a cell similar to the one Hank had just come from. His voice quivering madly from the emotional jolt and the sickness of addiction, Hank called out, "Toby!" He lifted from his seat and fell to the floor as he reached out for the screen. Just as quickly the image went completely blank.
"Now, Mr. Evans, are you ready to negotiate? Or shall I instruct Mr. Lotinger to inflict the first consequence on your son?" Hank lunged up from the floor almost drunkenly, nearly reaching the desk, save for Lotinger grabbing hold of him and throwing him back in his chair in a single motion.
"You let him go or I swear-"
"What, Mr. Evans? What can you do to me?"
Hank was still struggling as Lotinger held him down in his chair with one hand. Everything going on seemed to combine at that moment to further worsen Hank's condition. His shaking became violent as he glared at the Emperor. He was beginning to feel as though he would die if it went on much longer. The Emperor, noticing his physical state, smiled wryly.
"There is another component of this deal, Mr. Evans, that you have not allowed me to yet include, by way of your premature refusal." His face changed then to one of tremendous compassion. "I know why you suffer," he said in a gentle voice. "I know what it is you need. I know what it is you hunger for, and I can take this pain away from you."
He nodded assuredly with an even more nurturing expression. Hank knew that the man wasn't lying, he had smelled the blood in the room ever since he had entered it. It was the biggest reason he was losing more and more control over himself. The Emperor picked up a black box that sat atop the desk and pushed some buttons on it. The next moment a strange, secret compartment opened and the presence of ancestor blood overpowered Hank's every sense all at once. Before he could stop himself, he reached out with both of his hands for the tiny glass vial that sat snugly inside the small, velvet-lined drawer. Before his hands could get to it, Lotinger grabbed his collar from behind, keeping him just out of reach. The Emperor let out a dry laugh.
"Ah, ah, ah, Mr. Evans. As you should well know, nothing in this world is for free." He grinned at Hank with a devious smirk that said I've got you right where I want you. Near to choking, Hank was still reaching out for the vial. "You see Mr. Evans, it's like I said, you cannot refuse me. If you do what I ask, your son will be spared much unpleasantness, and I will supply you with all the blood that you will need." He paused for a moment and his smile widened, "Indefinitely."
Tears were now streaming from Hank's face.
"Wi-will you le-let Toby go?"
"Yes, but you will both be kept track of. Especially you. And your performance will determine whether he will stay in your care." His face went grim. "Or mine." The Emperor swiveled lazily in his chair a little to the left and sighed. "So, what do you say, Hank?" The word "Hank" sounded strange coming from him; it was too informal.
"So, if, if I do well, T-Toby can stay with me?"
"Yes, if you do well, Toby can stay with you. You will be paid a generous salary, and I will keep you supplied in blood. There is no good reason not to take this deal."
"But, what if some-something happens, out of m-my control, wha-what then?"
"Mr. Evans, I'm an understanding man. You only need to concern yourself with doing your job well, and no harm need come to the boy." Hank knew then he was lying, but saw no other choice. There was no conceivable way he could save his son otherwise. And the blood was right there, he could have it. He could have it whenever he needed it, and he really needed it right this moment more than anything. More, even, than Toby. Anger rose up in him at the thought, and he denied it, as if he could really lie to himself. He drooped his head forward and began to weep. He felt Lotinger's grip loosen on his arms. Through his tear-soaked eyelashes, he could see the Emperor smiling victoriously.
"Mr. Lotinger has a device in his pocket. All I need for you to do, Hank, is swallow it. It will repair and upgrade the monitoring device that is already inside you. With this device, I warn you now, we will be able to see and hear anything that you do, in real time. And if you try to have it removed, not only will it kill you, Mr. Evans, I will kill your son. Do you understand?"
Hank nodded shakily. Lotinger let go of him and turned him around, then pulled the capsule-like device from his pocket and held it out to give to Hank. Hank took it and within a moment, Lotinger provided him with a glass of water with which to ingest it. He put the capsule on his tongue and with one long gulp of water, he swallowed it, feeling the urge to cry, but holding back with what little strength he had.
"Congratulations, Mr. Evans, you are now one of the most important assets to the American Empire, and please, by all means, drink." Hank turned to see the Emperor holding the vial out toward him. He swiftly took it from the Emperor's hand, and crouching down to the floor, pulled out the stopper. He put the open vial to his lips and slowly tipped it back. His tongue felt magnetized to the liquid as it came closer. When the first drop touched, he felt the world stop. His heart rate increased as a feeling of intense ecstasy overwhelmed his every cell. He tipped his head further and smiled as the blood flowed down his throat. It reminded him of the first time the blood had spattered int
o his mouth. Immediately he realized that something was different about this blood. It was fresh. That was why it reminded him of the first time. He dismissed a brief curiosity at how this could be. What did it matter to him, so long as he had it. He smiled as he looked up at Lotinger, who was looking down at him with a sort of contempt in his features.
"Very well. You will be briefed and trained for a time dependent on what you will require. I will monitor your progress from time to time, and then, we will send you on your first assignment." The Emperor was standing now, looking down at Hank and appearing quite accomplished. "You made the right choice, Mr. Evans."
But he didn't feel like he had. What little of himself was left at the moment felt like he had sold his soul.
"I suppose now you would like to see your son. Mr. Lotinger will take you to him."
At the mention of his son, Hank immediately began to wipe his mouth as a sense of self-consciousness brought him fully back to reality. Then, he picked himself up from the floor and straightened out his clothes as if anything could be done to give him the appearance of being well tailored. He looked at the Emperor, unsure what he should say. Then, Lotinger knelt in front of the desk.
"My Lord."
The Emperor nodded and gestured his blessing for Lotinger to leave. Hank followed him, saying nothing more to the Emperor as he went. Once they were back in the bland hallway, Lotinger swung around violently, the sling holding his left arm lifting slightly from the movement. He grabbed hold of Hank's throat with his right hand, pushing him up against the wall.
"Next time you will show His Holiness the respect that is due to him."
Hank held his breath. He wasn't afraid anymore. He knew he was stronger than this man. Now that he had drunk the blood, he was sure he could break any one of this man's other bones with very little effort. But, strong as he was, he feared the man would not take him to Toby if he fought back. When Lotinger finally let go, he turned and Hank followed him through the hall. They took the same elevator they went through before, going back up, a few floors further than Hank had been.
When they arrived in front of cell number 076458, Lotinger typed in a code and opened his right eye wide as he leaned toward what looked to Hank like a nozzle. It shot a red beam of light into Lotinger's eye, and a sound, sort of like a chime, went off. The door then made the sound that Hank remembered his making when it opened. Once the door was open, Lotinger stepped aside, gesturing for Hank to enter. But the look on his face was one of hatred. Hank tried to ignore it as he entered the room.
When he was inside, he saw that Toby was not as he had been when Hank saw him on the screen in the Emperor's chambers. He realized then that it must have been a recording, for the boy lay motionless and breathing deeply on his slab of concrete. Hank sat next to him at the edge of the slab quietly, so as not to wake him. He brushed his hand against his son's face and then put his own face in his hands and began to cry, partly from joy and partly for fear of the future, but mostly for what he had done to his son and himself by making this deal. Remembering the capsule he had taken, he wondered if there would ever be a way that they could escape.
Chapter 24
Baptism by Fire
After Ishan finished drinking from him, Simon laid him back down on the bed. He couldn't believe what Ishan had done. Simon had offered Ishan his blood back, but Ishan had only taken half. Something else had happened, too. Some strange connection formed between the two, beyond anything that Simon could comprehend. It started before Ishan drank from him, but it was much fainter then. The difference between before and now was like listening to someone through a bad radio signal compared to standing right in front of them, face to face. He could see, hear, and smell everything in the infirmary. He even reached out and touched the cold side bar of the hospital bed that Ishan lay in. And yet he was also feeling all of these senses through Ishan simultaneously. Ishan had been experiencing Simon's memories for hours now. If it had only been Simon's life, it would have been over in a matter of minutes. But, Ishan's own history was now a part of Simon's memory. Simon knew, however, through this new link between them, that Ishan wanted to experience the cycle of his own past in private. It was almost as if they could think with the same mind.
He left the room to begin assessing the damages that had been sustained to the nest and to the ancestor's tunnels. He knew that he was doing as Ishan would have done if he were conscious and able to move, but he did not mind. He wanted to give Ishan his privacy and things would need to be rebuilt soon. He had accepted this place as his home from the moment he woke up in that infirmary next to Ishan. After he was finished examining the mess, he checked the sleeping chambers. Most of them were occupied. Of course the rooms that belonged to Peter and the other vampires who had taken up with him were empty. But, upon checking, Simon was surprised to find the rooms of Rachel, Boris, Yavo, and Rodney all vacant as well. Had Peter's men killed them? A strange pang of anguish filled him as he not only felt Ishan's loss, but felt it himself as well. Living through Ishan's life, he felt as though they were his family, too.
But, still another possibility existed. One in which Simon knew all too well, that Ishan did not want to accept. However, regardless of how it had happened, they found themselves hoping that Hank had made it out of the city alive and in the custody of the Empire. It was the only chance they would get. It had been one of Ishan's better ideas to include a clause in the blood pact giving him the option to choose a mediator. At the time, the Emperor had seen no reason to prevent it. But by now, Ishan and Simon were sure he was now concerned about the choice Ishan had made. They wondered if the Emperor had any clue what made Hank so special.
* * *
Lotinger entered the Emperor's chambers, bowing low as he came. The Emperor looked up from his desk and raised his right hand in a gesture of acceptance. Then Lotinger stood up stiffly as the Emperor turned his attention back to the papers on his desk.
"You asked to see me Your Holiness?"
"Yes, Mr. Lotinger, and I suspect that you know exactly why as well," the Emperor said, not bothering to look up this time.
"Yes, my Lord. I acted against your will by striking the convict, and for this sin I should pay the penalty." Sweat began to bead on Lotinger's forehead.
"Yes, Charles, you should, and you will. I cannot afford to have someone so close to me who cannot prove themselves completely and utterly faithful."
"But Lord, I am faithful. I am your most faithful servant. I would follow you through the gates of hell. I would lay down my life for you." Lotinger's voice shook with devotion and desperation.
The Emperor looked up at him then. Lotinger staggered backwards a little as he noticed that the man's eyes were completely black.
"Lord, please!" he begged. "Everything I've done, I did for you."
With the swiftness of a tiger, the black-eyed thing was on him. Lotinger’s back slammed into the floor. The Emperor's hands wrapped around Lotinger’s throat and he began to asphyxiate. As he fought for air, he thought of his all-time favorite kill, Roger Tresney, and how he murdered him. It was so sweet that he would die the same way. He was no longer afraid. His Lord was delivering him. And what better way to go? Trying to ignore the pleading signals of his brain and body, Chuck Lotinger focused on the black eyes of his master. It was like they were one now. He wondered if Roger, looking up at him that night, had felt the same.
* * *
When Toby woke up, he saw nothing at first. After a few minutes, his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. It wasn't his room, and yet it was filled with all of his things. He sat up and looked around. He saw that he was even lying in his own bed, with his own sheets and blankets. Half sprawled out in a wood-stained chair to the left of the bed, his father slept. A book lay open on his chest as he snored mildly. The wound in Toby's neck was now only a dull ache. He put his hand there and felt the gauze that covered it. He remembered vague moments of waking several times since he had left the orphanage. He remembered the Imperial sentri
es taking him, on a stretcher, to the cell. He remembered crying out painfully with joy when he awoke to find his father holding him gently. He also had a vague recollection of waking in the backseat of a car he had never ridden in before, and watching the sunset through the side window above his feet. But he had no idea where they were now.
He looked up at the walls of the room. It was much larger than his father's room in their home. He wondered how his father had survived the city of the dead. He looked over at him, then. A chill went through his body as he realized, truly, for the first time, that his father was okay. He thought of waking him and telling him how much he loved him. But he couldn't bring himself to interrupt such a peaceful sleep. Then he remembered the message that Diana had asked him to give to his father. He told himself there would be plenty of time for that. He would tell him tomorrow. He watched one more time, as his father's chest rose and sank with the rhythm of his breathing, and then lay back, closed his eyes, and slept.
* * *
When Ishan had completely woken, Simon carried him to his chamber to prepare for the great sleep. Simon was hungry now, but he knew his first real taste of human blood would have to wait until the sun went down. Simon laid the other vampire down onto the bed and sat down on the floor beside it. The two vampires looked at each other, with the same curious expression. Simultaneously, they both thought of how much their lives had changed in the span of one single night. They knew that the next night would bring many challenges. There was much to investigate. First of all, they knew that Peter's followers must be found. It was imperative to discover how Peter had managed to enter the nest. Peter's body would have to be autopsied as well. But more important than all of this was finding out what had happened to Hank and his guides. If Hank survived and the Emperor held his part of the blood pact, there just might be a chance.
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