by Sara Beaman
Her eyes narrow, and narrow, and then widen suddenly.
“Stay here, okay? I need to make a phone call.”
With that, she gets up and strides quickly toward the bathrooms, leaving me sitting alone in the crowd. I crane my head to look at the TV she was watching. Two newscasters are conversing, one in the studio, one in the field, focus-grouped levels of appropriate concern on their faces.
IT IS DIFFICULT TO GET A BODY COUNT AT THIS TIME, the man in the field says. WE KNOW FROM SECURITY FOOTAGE AND EYEWITNESS ACCOUNTS THAT AS MANY AS THIRTY PEOPLE HAVE BEEN GUNNED DOWN. BUT EMERGENCY SERVICES HAVE ONLY BEEN ABLE TO RECOVER TWO OF THE VICTIMS.
SO THE REST OF THE CORPSES ARE JUST GOING MISSING? asks the woman in the studio.
An acne-scarred server takes this moment to bring me my pizza, along with a hamburger I presume is for Haruko. I smile at him thinly.
“Can I get you anything else?”
I shake my head no. I cut a slice of pizza away from the rest and take a bite, looking out the front window. The hot cheese sticks to the roof of my mouth. I watch the college kids smoking and drinking beer outside, and once again I find myself confronted with the fact that Adam is out there, somewhere, feeding. Such a strange little food chain we’ve set up, with my useless self somehow being the last link. So much blood passing through so many mouths. It feels wrong.
I look back to the television.
DO WE HAVE ANY SUSPECTS AT THIS TIME? asks the woman in the studio.
LOCAL LAW ENFORCEMENT IS NOT READY TO DISCUSS THOSE DETAILS, says the man. BUT ACCORDING TO EYEWITNESSES, THE SHOOTER MAY BE DRESSED IN A POLICE UNIFORM.
I shudder and look away.
Soon Haruko returns. Without comment, she sits down across from me and starts eating her hamburger. I pick at my pizza. Before long I’ve finished my coffee, and she’s finished her beer.
She stands up. “Want anything else?”
I mouth the word water.
She nods and goes back to the bar.
A minute later she returns with my water and another beer, and we wait. She watches the news channel, eating her burger methodically, with slow small bites. I manage to eat half of my pizza before feeling uncomfortably full, unable to finish the rest. I sigh and look at the table.
“Something wrong?” Haruko asks.
I shrug.
“We should probably do something about your hair,” she comments offhand. “That fake red color is too easy to identify...”
I nod thoughtfully. In my passport picture I was blonde, with brown eyes. I might never get that face back, but the hair would be a start.
“We’ll stop at the drug store on the way back.”
Over the next hour and a half, while we wait for Adam to return, I down three cups of coffee and two cups of water. Haruko has a third beer, then a fourth, but even at the end of it she doesn’t seem remotely inebriated.
Eventually Adam shows up. He comes to the front window and waves to Haruko without coming inside the restaurant, then turns his back to us. While Haruko is settling up with the bar I visit the bathroom again, and then we meet Adam outside.
“I got a sending from Aya,” he says, frowning. “A vision. She lost track of Gabriel. He went out of her radius, I guess...”
Aya has sensing powers too? I ask.
“She has clairsentience,” Adam explains. “She can see and hear things up to almost a mile away.”
“Well, what do you want to do about it?” Haruko asks.
“There’s not really anything we can do, I guess,” Adam says. “Let’s go back to the car.”
///
We stop at a drug store on the way back to Tara’s house. Haruko and I walk inside together; Adam stays in the car. Haruko grabs a basket and we walk to the hair care section. “Why don’t you pick out a color,” she says.
I point to a box with a smiling blond model on the front.
“If you want to go lighter we’ll need to bleach your hair first,” she says. She starts pulling supplies off the shelf: hydrogen peroxide, some plastic combs and hair clips, a shower cap, a spray bottle, and a tub of deep conditioner. I grab some toothpaste as we head towards checkout.
Haruko pays for our stuff and we walk back out to the car. Adam has taken over the driver’s seat and is staring into space with a grave expression. I get in the seat next to him. Haruko climbs in the back seat, pushes some keys on her smartphone and holds it to her ear.
“Who are you calling?” Adam asks.
“Desmond.”
“Aren’t we supposed to avoid using the phone?”
“Shit. I didn’t tell you,” she says. “Well, he’s not picking up anyway. There’s been a rash of random killings in the DC area. More than thirty people are dead. The bodies are going missing.”
“What does that have to do with us?”
“I guess I thought maybe he could answer that question.”
Adam rolls his eyes and puts the car in reverse.
When we reach Tara’s estate, Vincent is waiting for us outside, looking weary and unsteady. He approaches Adam as he climbs out of the driver’s seat.
“Are you ready?” he asks. “We should hurry.”
“What’s the rush?” asks Adam.
“We believe Gabriel went out to make contact with Claire,” Vincent says. “Probably to tell her about you and your red-haired friend. There’s no cell reception out here, and he’s missing.”
“All right,” Adam says. “I’ll go down right now. Haruko—“
“I’ve got things under control,” she says. “You go.”
Vincent leads Adam into the house. Haruko grabs the bag from the drug store and follows them inside; I follow her, looking behind myself into the darkness before I shut the front door.
We walk straight back to the guest rooms. Haruko dumps the bag out onto the double bed. I give her a look, like is this really the time? but she nods.
“Might as well do it now,” she says.
I shrug and start brushing out my hair. She walks to the sink and carefully transfers most of the hydrogen peroxide into the spray bottle.
I’m starting to feel lightheaded with the need for blood, but I don’t expect any from Haruko. I tell myself I’ll be fine. Adam said I only needed it daily, and my chest wound is almost gone. Besides, I can’t ask him to give me more when he’s about to let Tara bleed him dry.
Haruko twists the tub faucet on. “Let’s wet your hair down.”
I take off my shirt and stick my head under the water. I recoil in surprise, nearly hitting my head on the faucet—it’s freezing cold—but I force myself to soak the rest of my hair before standing up.
Haruko turns off the water. She takes a comb and begins spraying hydrogen peroxide on my hair in sections. I stand with my arms at my sides, shivering. Once she’s done, she grabs a towel from the cabinet and hands it to me. I pull it over my shoulders.
“You’ll need to leave the peroxide on for about an hour and a half,” she says. She picks up the shower cap on the bed and pulls it over my wet hair.
I nod.
“You look exhausted. Maybe you should lie down for a little while.”
I shake my head no.
“It’s fine. Aya can watch the back door, and I’ll be right in the guest room. I’ll come get you when it’s time to rinse your hair out.” She pats me on the shoulder. “Get some rest, okay?”
I nod, too weak and too mute to argue.
She smiles at me and closes the door behind her as she leaves.
I shove the stuff on the bed towards the wall and slide under the covers. The faint sound of talk radio comes in from the guest room—more news, I guess.
Before long I’ve fallen asleep with the lights on.
16
A Dream of Longing
{Adam}
I woke up to a knock at the door.
I climbed out of bed and turned on the lights, my head floating. There were two of everything in the room, and nothing had proper edges. I retrieved m
y glasses from the bedside table, but even after putting them on my vision was still blurry.
I went to the door. Aya was on the other side, wearing a ridiculous-looking, frilly red party dress. At her side was a stranger, a tall, pale Asian girl with shoulder-length hair and an athletic build, wearing a tank top and jeans.
“There you are, Dr. Fletcher,” Aya said. “This is my friend, Warden Haruko Schuster of Atlanta.”
I smiled and extended my hand to Haruko. She grinned and shook it heartily. Suddenly it seemed easier to focus.
“I’m Adam Fletcher,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she said.
“Dr. Fletcher, I’m supposed to help Julian with the preparations for tonight,” Aya said, “but perhaps you could show Haruko to the seraglio?”
“The what?”
She tilted her head to the side. “You haven’t been there yet? Didn’t he give you the cards?”
I forced myself to focus on her thoughts. She meant the gallery. The harem.
“Of course,” I said. “Yes. Sorry.”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Aya said. “If you will, meet us at the ballroom when you've finished.”
“Right,” I said, looking at Haruko, not Aya. I went to step out into the hall, but then realized I was barefoot, wearing the same clothes I’d worn the day prior. “Uh... do you want to come in for a second? I guess I should put on some shoes, and...” The thought came out unfiltered, unconsidered.
“Sure,” Haruko said, smiling.
I let her into the sitting room. Her eyes went instantly to the diplomas. “You’re a neurologist?”
“Yeah, I was. Am. Stay here, okay? I should probably put on a suit or something for the party.”
She laughed. “All right. Can I look at your stuff?”
“Knock yourself out.”
I retreated into the bedroom and stumbled into a bedpost. Was I still drugged? Had I taken too much? But I’d taken the number of pills as always, and without any gin to chase them down. What was wrong with me?
I opened the wardrobe and looked through my clothing, trying to find something appropriate to wear to meet Julian’s guests. My focus scattered, thoughts colliding like marbles. What did that dream mean, anyway? I hadn’t learned anything more about the “others” Aya had referred to in the garden—people like Markus, those that Julian had resurrected with his blood.
It all seemed connected to blood. He’d taken blood from that headless corpse in the tomb. Mnemosyne’s body. What was he hoping to accomplish with Mnemosyne’s blood?
I pulled out a black business suit, a white shirt, and a black tie. I stripped off my clothes and put the new ones on, fumbling with the tie for minutes before tying it correctly. I picked up my pants from yesterday; as I pulled the deck out of the back pocket, the image on the last card caught my eye. I paused for a moment, considering. It showed the stone doors to the forest—the doors to the sepulcher from the vision.
I placed the deck in the pocket of my jacket and went out to get Haruko.
We went out into the hallways. Although I’d never been to the seraglio before, simply thinking about its card activated a magnetic pull in its direction. My apprehension built as we grew closer, penetrating through the haze of the sleeping pills.
“So how the hell do you get around down here?” Haruko asked. “The hallways shift around every time someone goes into the basement, don’t they? Or am I just imagining things?”
“They do, yes. I actually couldn’t get anywhere on my own until yesterday,” I admitted. “I still wouldn’t be able to find my way without these.” I took out the deck of cards and handed them to her. The pulling sensation instantly subsided.
She flipped through them as we walked. “These are spectacular! Did Julian draw the images himself?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Is he an artist or something?”
“Of course he is. Didn’t you know?”
I shook my head.
“He must have done these. They look like his work.”
“I don’t really know that much about him.”
“I guess he doesn’t talk about himself much.” She handed the deck back to me. “But yeah. He’s famous for his portraits. He’s painted hundreds of Wardens and other American cousins throughout the years. He’s very precise, maybe because of his memory being what it is. His work used to serve a practical purpose, actually, before photography was invented.”
We reached the entrance to the seraglio: a pair of elaborately carved wooden doors set with equally ornate golden handles. I pulled one open for Haruko. Inside was a long hall lined with semi-transparent screens and draperies. The idle occupants conversed in low voices. There were perhaps twenty people scattered throughout the room.
I took a step back. My teeth were already sharpening in reaction to the chorus of human pulses, my gums already retracting. I closed my eyes, inhaled, and tried to calm myself. I couldn’t do it. I would lose it. I would kill someone if I went inside.
“Aren’t you coming?” Haruko asked.
“I’m not hungry,” I lied. “I’ll wait for you out here.”
“All right, well, I’ll try not to take too long, then.”
I nodded and closed the door behind her, desperately fighting the urges I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready to face. I sat down on the floor and prepared to wait.
17
Keep Quiet
{Kate}
I wake up as a hand clamps over my mouth. The lights are off. I can just barely make out a pale figure with dark hair looming over my bed. It’s Adam. Where are his glasses?
What is it? I ask.
He doesn’t respond.
I thrash my head to the side. He grabs both of my wrists, puts them in one of his hands, squeezes hard. “Look at that face. Fucking uncanny.”
The fuck are you doing?
“This is nothing personal,” he says in a low hiss. “If you keep quiet I’ll make it quick.”
You’ll make what quick?
He leans over me, smiling slightly.
I try to pull away, but I can’t—his hands are too strong. He pins my chest down with his shin, bearing down right against my chest wound. It hurts so badly that tears well up in my eyes.
“If you don’t stop fighting me, I’m going to crush your ribcage,” he whispers.
I lie still for a moment, stunned. He moves his leg and straddles my waist. I panic and try to scream as he wrenches my jaw to the side with his free hand, exposing my neck. I try to throw him off me, but, rail-thin as he is, he’s ridiculously strong—impossibly strong.
I can only think of one thing to do. I try to command him with my mind, like I commanded the deer: Get the fuck off of me.
He pauses for a moment; then, without letting go of my wrists or my face, he climbs off my waist, hauls me off the bed and pins me against the wall. The back of my head slams hard. I see stars.
An entire set of razor-sharp teeth sink into my neck. The pain of the bite is excruciating. I frantically try to command him away: Let go of me—Get away from me—
The door opens. The room floods with light. Someone grabs him from behind and pulls him off of me. At that moment his face loses shape, melting like butter. Then it re-forms.
Gabriel.
He lets go of my face and hands. I fall along the wall to the floor as he whirls around to face his assailant.
It’s Haruko. She strikes his nose with the palm of her hand, stunning him for a moment. He stumbles backward, clutching his face, and almost falls on top of me before regaining his balance. Haruko wavers slightly as well. Is she drunk?
I drag myself towards the bed, slithering along the floor with one hand clamped over my gushing neck. The two grapple with each other for what seems like an hour. I crawl under the bed and watch anxiously, breathing hard and praying for Haruko to get the upper hand. I can see a knife protruding from Gabriel’s back—she must have stabbed him earlier—but he fights on like a machine.
The next thing I see, he’s grabbed on to Haruko’s hair. As she struggles to free herself, he begins smashing the front of her skull into the edge of the porcelain tub over and over. She screams wordlessly, sickeningly, but it’s useless; after one final impact against the tub, her body goes limp and her screams abruptly truncate. My entire body wrenches involuntarily with revulsion.
The door to the outer hallway opens. Aya stands in the doorway.
Gabriel hurls Haruko’s body to the ground and pulls himself up to standing. He walks slowly towards Aya, watering over her. She just stands there, expressionless, like a deer caught in headlights.
I can’t hold on any longer. As he moves to strike her, my vision fades to black.
I pass out.
18
A Dream of Fascination
{Adam}
I sat on the floor outside the seraglio for what seemed like an hour. Once I managed to subsume the feeding impulse, I started to fall asleep. I forced myself to keep my eyes open, not wanting to submit to another memory vision.
I was upset with myself. How was I ever going to leave the estate? I couldn’t force myself to feed on one of the people in the seraglio, even though Julian had contracted them just for that purpose. I shut down as soon as I felt my canines sharpen. How could I possibly sustain myself out in the wider world, feeding from normal people on the street? People who’d try to resist?
A century from now, I’d still be drinking from the amphora.
The double doors to the seraglio opened. Haruko stepped out into the hallway, positively glowing. I stood up, wobbling a little, and smiled at her.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head no.
“Okay.” She blinked, frowned. “I guess we should be getting back to the others...”
I took a few steps towards the staircase to the ballroom, then stopped.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you mind if I ask you something?”