Falling Dark

by Christine Pope

  “We don’t know for sure. At least three or four. But probably not many more than that, because too high a concentration of their kind in a given area will lead to far too many killings, even if they are attempting to go the maximum length of time between victims.”

  “Three or four doesn’t sound too bad.”

  Silas’ mouth pursed slightly, as if he was attempting to decide how much of the truth I could handle. I had to repress a flicker of irritation. What, did he think I was too fragile to handle what he had to tell me? Without answering right away, he reached for his glass of wine and drank some, then took a bite of pizza. At last he said, “I assure you, even a single vampire can do a great deal of damage. They are inhumanly fast and strong, and able to draw on powers of illusion, of darkness, to give themselves even more of an upper hand. No human can go up against them and hope to prevail.”

  “But you’re hunting them.”

  An uneasy silence fell, and Silas’ gaze shifted away from mine. What his lack of response meant, I wasn’t quite sure. That he wasn’t human, either? He certainly looked like a normal enough man. That is, an extremely strong and attractive man, but even so, I hadn’t been able to detect anything about him that would signal there was something strange going on.

  “Observing,” he said. “Not engaging.”

  “It sure looks like you engaged with that semivive.”

  “That was different. A semivive has some peculiar traits, true, but fighting one is very different from going up against a full-blooded — so to speak — vampire.”

  I had to take his word for it, because of course I’d never seen a vampire fight. I hadn’t seen one at all, unless you could count the hazy, malevolent figure I’d spotted in my vision. Those icy gray eyes would haunt me forever. I didn’t want to see the whole person in the flesh. A vision was bad enough.

  “And what happens when a vampire realizes you’ve taken out one of his minions?”

  “Acceptable losses. A semivive can be replaced. In fact, that is their whole reason for being — to be the eyes and ears of the vampires, their foot soldiers. Cannon fodder when necessary.” Silas paused there and ran a finger over the glass tabletop, tracing a pattern I couldn’t quite make out. “That’s not to say that a vampire is exactly happy when he loses one of his servants, but they can be replaced.”

  “So a vampire can’t be replaced?”

  “No more than you or I could be replaced.” He looked up then and gave me an unreadable look. Our eyes met, and a small shiver passed over me. Not an unpleasant one, but…not the kind of shivers I should be getting from someone I barely knew, no matter how attractive I might find him. “Far fewer survive the transition from mortal to vampire than do those who survive being made a semivive. The master vampire — in the case of the local coven, Lucius Montfort — must be very sure of his disciple before he attempts to take them on that journey.”

  “Journey? So it’s not just a matter of being bitten by a vampire?”

  “No. The disciple must drink the blood of the master, and he must hold that person as their body turns from mortal flesh to undying matter. It is a journey into death…and back from it. So the disciple must be entirely sure of his or her purpose, and must possess unwavering devotion and belief in the master vampire.”

  Lovely. I supposed in a way it was good that the process was so difficult, or else we’d probably be knee-deep in vampires, despite their need to remain as low-profile as possible.

  “So you see,” Silas continued, “why the loss of a vampire he created is a true blow to a master vampire.”

  “How would you know for sure if you aren’t hunting them?”

  He reached for his wine glass and lifted it by the stem, then gave the contents a slight swirl so the liquid glinted pale gold under the light of the brushed-steel chandelier hanging above us. “Just because we don’t actively hunt them doesn’t mean we don’t do our best to kill them when we come across them. They are…an abomination.”

  Strong word, but I wasn’t inclined to argue with it. One could say that all creatures under the sun had their place in the world, no matter how vicious, but vampires weren’t exactly the same thing as polar bears or mountain lions. They certainly were outside the natural order…or at least the natural order as I understood it. .

  “Where did they come from?” I asked softly.

  “No one knows for sure. They have existed alongside humanity for most of recorded history. Always in the shadows, always hunting in stealth. Some say they are merely a mutation of humankind, while others believe they carry some kind of rare infection. The fact that vampirism is transmitted by blood, and that an extract of their blood creates the semivives, seems to indicate the latter theory is the more accurate one.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t try to study their blood when you do manage to kill one.”

  “I wish that were possible. But since vampires turn to dust as soon as they are dispatched, it’s a little difficult to get a sample from them.”

  “What about the semivives?” I asked. “Do you always kill them the way you did that man last Monday? Couldn’t you isolate the disease in their blood?”

  Silas broke off a piece of pizza crust but didn’t eat it. Instead, he set it back down on his plate, as if he’d lost something of his appetite. “We don’t think of it as killing. More…releasing the soul that the vampire has suborned. The serum we use is a lethal mixture of quicksilver and holy water, the easiest way to eliminate a semivive. However, even in the times we’ve dispatched semivives in a more conventional way, it’s still been of no use to study them. Once they’re dead, whatever catalyst existed in the bloodstream dies with them.”

  So much for that. I didn’t know why it mattered to me what precisely created a vampire, except that I supposed my modern brain would find the whole situation much easier to accept if it turned out that the vampires’ condition was caused by some sort of exotic virus. Admitting that they were purely supernatural creatures took a huge leap of faith.

  But then, I knew my visions were real, even though most people would probably do their best to explain them away, since they didn’t fit into one’s neat little ideas of how modern life should work. So, if I accepted the visions as part of my world, then I had to accept vampires, too.

  “This house,” Silas went on, in a very different tone of voice. “Could you try to describe it in more detail to me?”

  “I can do better than that,” I replied, glad that he’d changed the subject. “I can draw it for you.”

  An almost startled expression passed over his face. “I wasn’t aware that you were an artist.”

  “I’m not, really,” I said. “But once I realized it was easier to keep track of my visions if I put down a representation of what I saw, I started taking drawing classes at Pasadena City College. And the more I practiced, the better I got. I didn’t have time to sketch out what I saw in today’s vision, because Brian came over, and then I called you, and — ” I broke off there, realizing that those excuses really didn’t matter. “Anyway, let me run up to my office and get my sketchpad.”

  “That would be excellent.”

  So I pushed back my chair and headed upstairs to the little loft area that had been turned into my home office. Just a desk and a table for when I needed a flat workspace, and a chair I could roll between them, but it was still nice to have a separate area for that sort of thing.

  My sketchbook lay on the table. I scooped it up, along with a couple of pencils and a gum eraser, then headed back downstairs. Silas had finished the rest of his piece of pizza and started in on another, for which I was relieved. At the rate we were going, talking much more than eating, I was going to end up with a lot of leftovers.

  Instead of going back to the spot where I’d been sitting across from him, I took the chair to his right so he could watch as I drew. “The house was definitely located on the edge of the arroyo,” I said, sketching quickly, filling in the sharp edges of the cliff that led down into the ra
vine. “Unfortunately, I didn’t see any other landmarks, like the Colorado Street Bridge, so I can’t tell you where it was located in relation to the actual town. But it was a large plot of land, maybe as much as an acre.”

  “That makes sense,” Silas murmured. “Vampires do like their privacy.”

  “There was a wall,” I continued, pencil moving even more swiftly across the paper as more details began to return to me. That seemed to be how it worked — once I got going, it was as if my pencil had a will of its own and was able to pick up subtle features that I wasn’t sure I would have otherwise recalled with my conscious mind. “Low…gray stone at the bottom, black iron with fleur-de-lis spikes along the top. A lot of trees. Some were bare, so I couldn’t tell exactly what kind they were. But also some pine and fir, I think. There was some grass, but nothing like an actual lawn because of all the trees.”

  “Again, so they can have their privacy.”

  “I suppose so.” After roughing in the trees, I moved on to the house itself. “The place was massive. A mansion. Lots of chimneys.” The scratching of the pencil on the paper seemed to create a counterpoint to my description, as if my voice and my pencil were working together to tell the story. “I think I saw at least one stained-glass window, but I didn’t get any details as to the design. There was a wide series of steps leading up to the front door. The stone around it was carved, I think…it’s hard to remember, because that’s where he was standing.”

  “Was it daylight in your vision?”

  “I….” My words trailed off as I attempted to recall the exact specifics of the vision. Yes, I’d seen everything clearly, but, now that I thought about it, I didn’t remember seeing the sun. It was more as if everything had been clearly illuminated, but for all I knew, the light that had revealed all those details had come from the moon. “I don’t think so. I think it’s more that I was able to see, despite the lack of any kind of obvious light source. Because how could he have been standing in the doorway if the sun was out?”

  “True.” Silas rubbed a hand over his chin as he stared down at the sketch. “I only asked because you’ve provided a great deal of detail here.”

  “Thanks.” Now that I’d stopped sketching, I realized how close we sat. Maybe not bumping-knees close, but still. I’d done a fairly good job of keeping a safe distance between us when we were together, and I wasn’t quite sure how to handle the way my heart rate seemed to speed up slightly at his proximity, at how I now could notice subtle details about him, like the dark stubble on his cheeks, the faint line between his brows…the scar that stood out nearly white against the tanned skin of his right hand. How had he gotten that scar?

  I didn’t dare ask.

  He had to have noticed the sudden increase in tension in the room. Sitting up a little straighter — and thereby widening the space between us, although only slightly — he said, “Do you mind if I take this sketch? I’d like to show it to my — that is, there are some people I know who would like to see it.”

  “Sure,” I responded, glad of an excuse to look away from him. Working carefully so I wouldn’t tear the paper, I eased the drawing loose from the metal spiral binding of the sketchbook and handed it to him. “Silas….”

  “Yes?”

  “Who are these people? Who do you work for?”

  His mouth tightened. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the less you know, the better.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, is that why you just gave me a lesson in Vampire 101?”

  He didn’t quite roll his eyes, but from the way his jaw tensed, I could tell he wasn’t exactly pleased by my question. “Because that particular knowledge won’t hurt you, might in fact help you. But I can’t say the same about the people I work for. There’s a reason why they don’t publicize who they are.”

  “So what makes them different from the vampires?”

  “Everything,” he responded, his tone so fierce that I couldn’t help but recoil slightly. “They are not at all like the vampires. They are the antithesis of the vampires. Understand?”

  “Um, sure.” The sudden flare of anger had been unexpected, and more than a little frightening. Despite those weird twinges of attraction that I didn’t quite know what to do about, I’d found myself becoming more relaxed around him. Now I couldn’t help remembering the ferocity of his attack on the semivive, the casual strength of the muscles concealed beneath the black button-down shirt he wore. Acting unconcerned, I got up from my chair and headed over to my original seat across the table. “Are you going to have any more pizza? Because otherwise I’ll stick the box in the refrigerator.”

  “No, I’m finished.” He stood as well, sketch still clutched in one hand. “In fact, I think I had better be going.”

  “So you can take that” — I gestured toward the sketch — “to your masters?”

  “They are not my masters. They — ” He seemed to stop himself there, as if he knew he was on the verge of revealing too much, had possibly already let slip more than he intended to. “But yes, I need to get this to the interested parties.”

  “Okay.” I retrieved the pizza box and closed the lid, then tried not to sigh at the amount of pizza left over. I knew what I was going to be eating for the next couple of days. As I closed the refrigerator door, I heard him say,

  “Serena…are you angry with me?”

  I’d never had a man ask me that question with such candor. He stood there just outside the kitchen, watching me, worry clear in his expression. And seeing him like that, the rush of irritation I’d felt disappeared as quickly as it had come. Right then, I realized it was foolish to be annoyed with him just because he couldn’t tell me everything. All he’d done so far was try to keep me safe. And if withholding certain pieces of information was part of that effort, then how could I throw it back in his face?

  “No, Silas,” I replied. “I’m not angry. I guess I’m just tired.”

  He nodded. “I hope you can sleep well, then. And remember to call me if you need me to drive you somewhere…or if you have another vision. Just call if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  “I will.”

  An offering of a small smile, and then I was walking him to the door. After I’d shut it behind him, though, I felt the unexpected and unwanted sting of tears in my eyes.

  And what if all I want is for you to hold me and tell me it’s all going to be okay? Would you do that, too, Silas?

  I had a feeling that I’d never get an answer to that question, no matter how much I might want it.

  Chapter Six

  My phone was ringing. At the ungodly — for me, anyway — hour of eight-thirty in the morning. I briefly considered throwing the iPhone out the window, but then I realized that might be Silas calling. I sat up in bed, then climbed out and retrieved the cell phone from the top of my dresser. When I looked down at the display, I saw my sister’s number there and almost put the phone back down. But I was already up, and besides, I knew if I ignored the call, she’d only keep trying until I finally gave up and answered.

  “Hi, Vanessa,” I said.

  “Oh, thank God, Serena! I am in the worst bind!”

  “Oh?” I responded, trying to sound as noncommittal as possible. My sister loved drama. Maybe it was holdover middle child syndrome, just an ingrained need for attention, or maybe it was simply from hanging around so many wildly creative but not entirely stable people, but I found her theatrics exhausting.

  “Two of my models are down with the flu, of all things, and my show is tonight. Please say you’ll come and fill in.”

  My sister was a clothing designer. A very successful one, too, when you considered that she had always stubbornly refused to leave Los Angeles and set up shop in New York, where most of the big names in American fashion had their studios. A number of celebrities wore her designs, and she’d even gained some national attention a few years past when an Oscar nominee wore one of her evening gowns. All o
f which just helped to point out what an underachiever I was when compared to my two older siblings.

  Even putting that sad fact aside, I’d always hated it when my sister tried to recruit me for modeling duty. Having my hair and face tormented into someone else’s ideal of beauty was grueling. Besides…. “Weren’t you complaining the last time I got drafted that your clothes didn’t hang right on me because I was too short?”

  “Well….” A long pause, and then Vanessa came back with, “You are too short. No one five foot six makes it as a runway model. It’s nothing personal.”

  I hated to bring up the subject of my visions, but it seemed that was the only way I could possibly get her to back off. “And what about that other issue?” I didn’t say the word “vision.” It was sort of taboo in my family to come right out and state the matter so baldly.

  A long pause. Then I heard her huff a breath into the phone, right before she replied in far too hearty a tone, “You’ll be fine. You only have to be on stage for probably five minutes altogether. What are the odds?”

  They were actually fairly low. While my visions didn’t follow any particular pattern, I’d never had them come just a day apart. Since I’d already experienced one the evening before, the chances of one striking me while I was strutting down a catwalk tonight weren’t very high. But I didn’t want to tell Vanessa that. Instead, I said, “I don’t know what the odds are because I can’t ever predict these things. You really should get someone else.”

  “I can’t,” she said, sounding even more frantic, if possible. “It sounds as if half the models in town are down with this flu thing, and the ones that aren’t are already booked. Please, Serena.”

  Oh, for God’s sake. I pulled in a breath. Problem was, I knew I would say yes. If I turned down my big sister, I’d never hear the end of it from my mother. And while some people — namely my friend Candace — might have told me to put on my big-girl panties and grow a spine, I knew my family much better than she did. There were some hills I might be willing to die on, so to speak, but this wasn’t one of them.