by David McAfee
Herris stood, furious and red. The full extent of his considerable ire visible in the very air around him, which crackled with energy. Something in my chest began to burn, and I remembered where I was and to whom I spoke. These people had done this to me, and they were capable of much worse. I was being given a rather pointed reminder of that fact as the burning sensation spread throughout my entire body like a fever. If the air hadn’t held me firmly in place, I would have doubled over in agony. My guts were being roasted as I stood powerless, unable even to scream.
Ramah tugged on Herris’ elbow, and Herris turned to regard his second. A look passed between them. A look that undoubtedly saved my skin. Ramah had stood up for me, at least. Not out of any sympathy for me, I’m sure, but because he thought I was the best person to save his daughter. He still thought I could do it even though they were sending this other vampire, Anna, along to make sure I didn’t.
No. Ramah’s face said. Please.
Then, after a moment of silence, an answering look from Herris.
Very well. It said, this once.
It took only a second, but I saw it. I imagine several others in the room noted it, as well. I heard a brief grunt from my right, and I knew Algor had seen the look and disapproved of it. I didn’t give half a rat’s ass if Algor approved or not. He could stick his opinion as far up his own ass as his clawed hands would allow for all I cared. What mattered to me was Herris had agreed, and the burning in my belly ceased. I took in a great gasp of air as the pressure around my chest eased. He did not, however, release me from his hold right away. I suppose he wanted to be sure he had my full attention when he next spoke. He needn’t have worried about that, let me tell you. He had my attention. Oh, boy, did he ever!
“That will be enough, Vincent,” he said. “You are very fortunate Ramah is willing to come to your aid.” The clear undertones of his voice told me in no uncertain terms that, should I run off at the mouth again, it would be over for me, Ramah or no Ramah. “This will serve as your only warning. Learn respect, or learn firsthand what the Lost Ones know.”
With that, he released his hold on my body. It was gone so suddenly that I couldn’t hold my balance, and I toppled to the floor, losing the last of my dignity as I went sprawling face first into the stone. Herris waited for me to get back to my feet, which I did slowly. My body felt awkward and my innards were still tender from the effects of Herris’s spell.
“Anna will accompany you,” Herris said matter-of-factly, “and instruct you in the use of your new abilities. You have many, to be sure, but they are as yet untested and untapped. She is to guide you in their use. Raine is far stronger than you, and you must learn to use every advantage if you are ever to capture her. Believe me, you are no match for the daughter of Ramah. Learn from Anna, and I strongly advise that the first thing you practice should be patience, and the second, respect.”
I nodded to show my understanding, and I think I may even have mumbled something in the way of an apology.
“Do not ever speak to any member of this Council in that manner again, Vincent Walker,” Herris continued. “And do not think to disobey your orders regarding Raine. We know you were in love with her, but you would do well not to let that fact interfere with your duty to this Council and to the Father, or you will face the direst of consequences.”
I already knew what he meant, but Herris decided to spell it out for me anyway, lest there be any confusion as to what awaited me if I ever let my temper and emotions fly ahead of my common sense again.
“You would not enjoy life as a Lost One,” he said.
The look on Lannis’ face suggested that, although I might not enjoy life as a Lost One, she would certainly enjoy giving that life to me.
Chapter Sixteen:
Departure
July 25, 1986
The Halls of the Bachyir
Anna fed before we left. In a cell near the Council Chamber, the Bachyir keep a dozen or so people chained to the wall to wait for the next hungry pair of teeth that happen by. The vampires who inhabit the Halls call it “The Larder” or “the Pantry.” I can only imagine what the unfortunate humans who discover themselves in that dank place, which smells of blood and human waste, must call it. Hell certainly comes to mind.
Anna fed with the unrestrained abandon of someone who has been denied what they seek for so long they can’t hold back once they get it. It had been many years since she’d tasted blood, since the Lost Ones don’t need it to survive. They can exist without it indefinitely. They still feel the Hunger, however, and therein lies the meat of their punishment. A Lost One will feel the ever-increasing pain of the Hunger as it jabs through them, twisting their rotting innards into painful knots. But they are forbidden to feed. To even try causes tremendous pain and adds another century to their sentence.
After all that time without blood, Anna was hungry. In the ordinary course of things, the ratio of food to prey in the vampire//human equation is usually 1:1. One human is almost always enough to satisfy one vampire. That night Anna killed two. She was going for a third, eyes alight with a dark kind of joy when Headcouncil Herris pointed a single, ancient finger at her, and she froze.
“That will suffice,” he said. “There must be enough for others who wander in tonight.” He released her then, and she bowed her head in respect and replied with something to the effect of “Yes, Headcouncil.”
Herris then motioned for me to take my fill. I stared in shock and horror at the poor souls chained to the wall. The ones who weren’t screaming and had not fainted just stared at me in open terror, the whites of their eyes visible the whole way around the iris as they waited for their turn. Not one of them was permitted any shred of dignity. All were naked and shivering, and most wore the remnants of the last thing they’d eaten on their chests or staining their backsides. Hungry as I was, I could only look on in horror as several of the Councilors decided they could use a bite, as well. Ramah, for his part, did not look away, but neither did he feed.
Algor was another matter. He shuffled toward one of the men with a slow, ominous tread, allowing him to know the end was near, and to anticipate it for as long as possible. When Algor was about two feet away from his victim, he showed the man his horribly mangled set of teeth, chuckling to himself. The man lost control of both his bladder and his bowels, and the room filled with the acrid, ammonia scent of urine and the heavier, earthy smell of human shit.
Had I been able, I think I would have vomited, but of course I was running on empty and had nothing to expel. The poor guy screamed, then went mercifully silent as he passed out from fear and shock. Algor gave him a disappointed look, then launched himself at yet another prisoner, tearing into the surprised woman’s throat with those mutilated fangs.
When he did, her face turned toward me and I saw with shock it was the waitress from The Eye, Teresa, who’d left me her phone number on a napkin and told me she got off at four. She had helped me escape from Drake and his cohorts, albeit unwittingly. I stood, frozen, watching as Algor shredded her neck.
Teresa’s eyes opened wide when she saw me. A tiny hint of hope worked its way onto her face.
Help me, her eyes begged, I helped you.
I couldn’t help her. Hell, I couldn’t even help myself. I could only watch as she died, knowing I couldn’t do a thing for her. Anything I tried might hurt my own chances of getting out of there, and I needed to get out to find Raine. I shook my head and mouthed an apology. What a coward I was. When Teresa realized I wasn’t going to help, the hope left her eyes, and she started to whimper and cry, which seemed to make Algor enjoy it even more. He ripped into her neck and shook his head back and forth like a dog with a toy. I couldn’t watch any longer, and when her screams turned into a weak gurgle I staggered out of the room.
My hands shook with fear, and my eyes burned with tears that would not come. My eyes watched my feet walk out of the room and into the hall, where the part of me that enjoyed the spectacle waited in the shadows like a ghost
. Why turn away? It whispered. You know you want to see...It was right. I did. Not only that, but I wanted to participate. Was that me? Or was that Lannis’s influence? For my sake, I believed the latter.
I pictured Raine’s soft black hair and deep blue eyes. The image gave me a measure of strength and helped me to keep Lannis’ taint at bay for the moment, but even I knew it wouldn’t last long.
***
Less than two hours after my second meeting with the Council, Anna and I were on our way. She showed me the path through the Halls of the Bachyir, and through the twisted, winding passages that meandered their way to the exit. Not that it matters, I thought. She could show me the way a hundred times and I will never remember it. Besides, I won’t be coming back here.
I would never have imagined such a large structure could fit inside the city and remain unknown. New York City was a big place full of big buildings, but none of them compared in scale to the Halls of the Bachyir. As Anna led me unerringly through one set of tunnels and then another, I began to feel as though we were traversing the hidden hallways of some ancient, gargantuan castle. I assumed from the sheer enormity of the place we must be underground.
When I mentioned this to Anna, she just laughed.
“You don’t know anything, Vincent,” she sneered.
“Maybe not,” I replied irritably, “but isn’t it your job to teach me? Herris himself said…”
The rest of my sentence was cut short in a flash of pain. Stars exploded in the side of my head and I went sprawling across the hallway, landing dazed and very confused about ten away. I lifted my head, wincing at the pain, and saw Anna standing over me, her right hand clutched into a tight fist
“Very well, Vincent,” she said, “Consider this your first lesson.” She unclenched her fist and I noticed the knuckles were stained with blood, my blood. She’d hit me hard enough to cut me.
“What kind of fucked up lesson is that?” I tried to ask, but all that came out of my mouth was a soft, muffled noise that sounded more like “Whafuhledat?” She seemed to understand it well enough, however.
“Headcouncil Herris,” she said, emphasizing the title, “is so far above you that for you to even think of addressing him by his given name is blasphemous. To actually do so in earshot of anyone who matters will earn you much worse than a clout on the head. For your sake as well as my own, you will always refer to him by his title. Do you understand?”
I did, grudgingly. A general in the Army has worked long and hard to earn his title, and would not take kindly to his lowliest dogface private addressing him as “Bob” or “Eugene.” But still…
“You could have just said so,” I mumbled, and rubbed the spot on my head where she’d thumped me. The bleeding had stopped, and already the swelling had gone down a considerable amount. It still hurt, though.
Anna harrumphed and continued to walk down the passage, giving my suggestion the same sort of distant, muffled disinterest as an old dowager countess in the Middle Ages would have given a dirty peasant child asking for a coin. In many ways, she was an old countess, wealthy in knowledge rather than gold. I was the peasant child. I needed her; she knew it as well as I did.
Yet she needed me as well. Hadn’t Herris himself – Headcouncil Herris, I amended to myself, I might as well get used to it – said her redemption lay in the successful completion of my mission? What’s more, he told her to teach me the use of my abilities so I would be ready when the time came to face Raine. Lastly, he had insisted I would need Anna’s help, because I was not strong enough to do the job myself.
Raine must be pretty powerful, I thought. I did not know Anna, but I suspected she was no match for Raine by herself, either. So there would be two of us against one, and I would need to know much, much more than I did if we were to have any chance of success. Anna was going to have to start teaching me, and soon.
It occurred to me it would indeed be two against one when the time came, but I thought Anna might be a little surprised as to which side of the equation she would be on. At least if I could keep that damn Lannis out of my head long enough to do what I planned. Those conflicting thoughts kept running around in my dusty old attic like thoroughbreds around a racetrack.
I love Raine, I would think, followed closely by
I hate her!
I’ll save her!
No, I won’t. I’ll kill her myself!
Such was the state of my mind when we rounded the last corner to see the door. It looked ordinary from this side. Had I known that? I couldn’t remember if I had paid it any attention the last time other than to hope it wouldn’t crash open and admit Sanders and Kagan. The only thing about that moment I could remember with any clarity was a feeling of immense relief. We stepped through it and out into the New York Night, then made our way to my place to pick up some supplies.
As I went through my apartment for the last time, the realization hit me that everything I knew was over. My memories and my life had to be let go. True, it wasn’t much of a life, but damn it, it was mine! Silently cursing the Council, I gathered up a few changes of clothes for the road and left behind my pictures (“You won’t need those” – Anna’s voice), some treasured items from my childhood (“Or those”), even my toothbrush (“No longer necessary”). I felt like I would cry, but no tears came. Tears were a thing of my old self, and I had to leave them behind, as well.
We descended the stairs in silence, and walked through the parking lot to my car. It was a 1982 Ford Fairmont I had bought brand new. It was white, clean, had four doors and a V-8, and in another year it would have been completely paid for. Ah, well. I turned the key in the ignition, backed out of the space and left the parking lot.
The clock on the dash told me it was nearing midnight. I could see New York’s night life prowling the sidewalks. Hookers, pimps, drug dealers, even cops, with the occasional johns visiting all of them in turn. Usually ending at the cop, but not always. The sad but true fact is that sometimes even the cops were johns, and every once in a while you could see one of the Boys In Blue standing idly in the neon glow of New York after dark with a distinctive faraway look in his eyes. It made me nervous to think that they were also armed, but I guess by then it didn’t really matter. Not to me, anyway. I drove on.
Several times I thought I saw other vampires. They always seemed to be hiding, barely noticed, in the shadows. Most were probably on the trail of prey. More often than not, that meant a hooker or a drug addict, which were common sources of nourishment for the Bachyir of the city because they were the least likely to be missed, along with the winos and the gang members.
Did I really see more of them out in the streets stalking their victims? Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t really know how much of what I saw (or thought I saw) was real and how much may have been my own wild imagination. About the only thing I could swear to was that watching all the people had driven the Hunger into me like a white-hot railroad spike. I hadn’t fed in the Larder, as Anna had, and it was all I could do to concentrate on the streets, the lights, and getting us to the interstate.
***
I was driving north along I-95 when Anna and I were taken by surprise. A car that had been hanging behind us for half an hour or so suddenly sped up and shifted over to the left-hand lane. I thought the driver meant to pass, so I paid it no attention until they got right next to me. Then the other car swerved into us.
The whole car jolted to the right and my forehead thunked into the steering wheel. I had just enough time before Anna and I were pushed off the road to see the face of Joel Kagan looking back at me through the passenger-side window of the other car. He flashed me a wicked smile as we went over the side of the little rise and into the trees.
“Oh, Shit!” I screamed just before the world exploded with the sound of crunching metal and breaking branches. The general din was punctuated by Anna’s own angry scream and sprinkled with the tingly sound of shattering glass. Looking through the hole where the windshield had once been, I saw a night sky that tee
med with stars.
How pretty. My last thought before the impact drove such things from my mind.
***
When I opened my eyes I was lying face down in a muddy patch of dirt littered with damp leaves and pine needles. The earthy smell of damp soil and pine trees permeated my nostrils, as well as the sad odor of decay. Dead animals, rotting wood, and the like. All of which told me we’d crashed into the woods beside the interstate. I stood on shaky legs and did a quick inspection of my body.
I didn’t seem injured, but as I glanced at the trunk of a nearby tree I noticed an entire section devoid of bark. The bare patch shone red with blood, lots of it. It wasn’t fresh, but it wasn’t old, either. It had just begun to dry into a tacky paste.
One look at my shredded clothes, with my shirt torn open and revealing patches of raw, broken flesh beneath, told me whose blood painted the tree. Mine, of course. Several bits of bark stuck to my skin in bloody little clumps, giving me an infected, leprous look.
Even though the blood wasn’t fresh, its coppery scent filled the air and rushed into my nose like a flood. The smell was so thick and pervading I started to get lightheaded. It soaked into my pores and coated me with a fine layer of rust-colored mist. It smelled so sweet. So good. So…right.
The Hunger doubled me over. I’d lost a substantial amount of blood in the crash, and my body cried out to replace it. Half crazy with bloodlust, I looked around at the trees, heavy with fog in the humid summer night. The night around me was thick and gray. Trees loomed barely distinguishable in the thin moonlight. Gray arms reached for a sky that could not be seen through the shadowy boughs.
Somewhere in the low gray sky, an owl hooted twice, calling to its dinner, perhaps. I thought about how good an owl’s eyes were purported to be. Could it see me standing there? Did the scent of my blood excite it, too?