The darkness seemed to shift in the distance as I walked onwards. Once upon a time, according to the police officer who had walked me through the area, it had been full of bums and other homeless people. Now, there were hardly any homeless left on the streets. The homeless who hadn’t moved into emergency accommodation had been picked off, one by one, by the supernatural creatures. The early months of their arrival had been marked by thousands of unexplained disappearances. Even now, the street lighting was far from perfect, despite the public demand for lighted streets. The supernatural creatures weren’t deterred by anything, but sunlight. The vampire certainly wouldn’t be bothered.
I concentrated, extending my magical field, in a bid to locate any other magic lying around. The vampire was a creature of magic, one literally infused with enough magic to make killing it almost impossible without the correct weapon, and it should be possible to sense it if it was anywhere near me. I felt nothing, but random flickers of magic in the air and faint signs of a Brownie nest somewhere in the former cardboard city. Like the more mundane creatures, like foxes, rats and cockroaches, some supernatural creatures had adapted to the city and now infested it. Some of them were deadly dangerous; others just wanted to survive.
We’d been warned when we were trained that most of the common knowledge about vampires was wrong, or incomplete. They sucked blood, but a single bite wasn't enough to turn a victim into another vampire. Instead, it created a link between the vampire and his prey, allowing the vampire to influence – even control – their minds. No one who had been bitten by a vampire could ever be fully trusted. Worse, they couldn’t be killed by anything, short of a stake through the heart; I’d seen vampires ripped to shreds by machine guns, only to see the shreds pulling themselves back together. Worst of all, a sated vampire was almost indistinguishable from a normal human…and some of them could even survive direct sunlight.
There had been hundreds of experiments, of course, in hopes of allowing vampires to live a normal life. We’d tried feeding a captive vampire artificial blood, but his body had rejected the liquid, while donated blood had had the unfortunate side effect of placing the donor in the vampire’s Thrall. It wasn't like dealing with a zombie, when there was clearly no point in treating them as human; a sated vampire was surprisingly normal. If they didn’t have the desire for blood that forced them, eventually, to find a victim and drink their blood, they could have been an important part of our society. I’d heard rumours that there are secret groups within the CIA, or foreign intelligence services, that are happy to use vampires as secret agents, allowing them an unlimited supply of blood in payment. I could only hope that they were false rumours. The public would never stand for it if that truth hit the light of day.
The shadows seemed to grow longer as I walked further, turning down into an alleyway that should make an excellent site for an ambush. I had carefully discarded my trenchcoat and most of my other devices – vampires have very acute senses and my target might pick up on my real nature – and all I was carrying was an umbrella. It looked fashionable, the kind that a young man might carry if he were going on a date, but I had carefully sharpened the end so that it could serve as a stake. If I was really lucky, I would be able to impale the vampire before it realised that something was badly wrong. I was tense all the way through the alley, but nothing happened. I couldn’t even hear the werewolf any longer.
Or perhaps I’m wasting my time, I thought, coldly. The temperature kept shifting and changing – we can’t rely on the weather these days, either – and I was alternatively too hot or too cold. This wasn't a job for a Guardian – a SWAT team or the National Guard should be able to handle it – but there were political pressures, as always. A vampire loose in Washington was a dangerous problem. It might eat or influence a few politicians. As long as everyone was careful not to invite it into their homes, it shouldn’t be a major problem, but vampires are very good at tricking people into issuing invitations. I noted a shop window, all boarded up and covered with enough garlic to make an unpleasant stench, and smiled. The PLEASE COME IN on the door had been firmly scratched out. The vampire might have taken it as an invitation.
I turned the corner carefully and walked on. Someone had been busy; they’d hung up dozens of crucifixes on each of the doors. It might work, or it might not. Some vampires couldn’t face the signs of a person’s faith, others merely ignored them and carried on devouring the person. No one was quite sure why, but my personal theory was that it depended on the level of faith a person had as they held their crucifix. If they didn’t really believe in God, they would be unable to use it for their own protection. There was no way to know for sure.
The streetlights seemed to brighten suddenly, revealing a girl leaning against the wall in the distance. I walked towards her slowly, unwilling to frighten her, while maintaining a careful grip on my umbrella. She might have looked normal, but she might be the vampire…or she might be a Judas Goat. A person in Thrall to a vampire would be very willing to lead more victims back to the vampire’s nest. There was nothing suspicious about her, apart from her mere presence on the streets. Even streetwalkers and drug dealers knew better than to be in the open after dark.
“Hello, stranger,” she drawled as I came closer. She didn’t look to be scared of me in the slightest, although the joint that hung from her fingers might have encouraged her to remain where a sane girl would have fled. “You want to show a girl a good time?”
I didn’t smile. Her voice had been bored and old. Her face and long blonde hair might have been attractive, if she had washed and, perhaps, led a better life. Her grey eyes were hard and cold, showing just how burned out she was. It was easy to guess at her story. She had probably become a drug addict and discovered, too late, that her boyfriend was in fact her pimp. If I had accepted her offer, the bastard would have taken the money and given her just enough marijuana – or whatever she was smoking – to convince her that it was working. She probably had only a few more years to live, even assuming that the supernatural creatures left her alone, before the toil and abuse ended her life well before her time.
“No, thank you,” I said. Up close, she smelt unclean, unwashed. It might not have had any hint of the supernatural, but it was still unpleasant. I don’t believe that I could have performed even if I had accepted her offer. A gust of wind blew past me, smelling of something else, fresher than her. It was a relief. “Why are you out here so late?”
She pouted and blew out a long stream of smoke. “You’re not one of those priests, are you?” She asked. Her body moved into a ridiculously saucy pose, exposing more than enough of her breasts. If she had been cleaner, I might have been tempted. “They come to see us and tell us that we’re living in sin and sinning like sin was going out of fashion tomorrow.” She giggled inanely, her eyelids flickering open and shut. “And then they pay us and have their wicked way with us…”
Something moved behind me. I ducked on instinct, feeling the force of a blow passing through where my head had been, microseconds before. I threw myself forward as a second punch narrowly missed my back, struggling to put some room between my new opponent and myself. I had been so distracted by the whore that I hadn’t felt him sneaking up behind me. I half turned, stumbling, and swore as a strong hand grasped me by the collar and hauled me upright.
The vampire – it had to be the vampire – was an ordinary looking man in an ordinary suit, perhaps one of the thousands of bureaucrats in Washington. His eyes were red, glowing with an unearthly colour, as he hauled me towards his mouth. For a moment, his mouth looked mundane and normal, but then the fangs emerged, reaching for my neck. The whore, I realised dimly, had been a Judas Goat after all. I cursed my misstep as the vampire prepared to dine. It could have proven fatal.
There was little point in struggling. Vampires are inhumanly strong. Instead, I drew on the magic field, concentrating somehow despite the pain, and teleported a handful of meters away. The vampire seemed astonished as his prey vanished, before
turning to face me, fangs still dripping with blood. I felt my neck quickly, wondering if I had missed the bite, but my skin was intact. It must have been part of its magical nature. I stared at him – it – as he glared at me, trying to mesmerise me and bring me under its control. I couldn’t understand how some people regarded vampires as romantic. It was a monster in human clothing.
It abandoned the attempt to control me suddenly and leapt for my body, launching a kind of flying kick that normally was the province of bad TV movies or martial arts demonstration classes. It was the kind of move that looks impressive and, against a trained opponent, is asking for trouble. I twisted, dodged the kick, and hurled a punch of my own at the vampire’s head. It felt like hitting a bag of flour, all soft and yielding, but the vampire wasn't hurt in the slightest. It was certainly stronger than me, maybe even playing with me before it abandoned the game and lunged for my throat again. I wondered, briefly, just how much of the original person was still in the vampire’s personality. Some vampires took to their new status as creatures of the night with glee, accepting the dark commands of their supernatural nature, others came to their loved ones – or us – and begged to be staked before they lost all that remained of themselves. I dodged another lunge and saw the whore moving behind the vampire. I took a second to focus my spell and cast a paralysis spell in her direction, keeping her out of the fight. If I defeated the vampire, she could probably be saved. If not…
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I said, as gently as I could. The vampire had said nothing in all the time we’d been fighting. I mentally prepared a second spell in my mind as I talked, hoping to convince it to stand still and allow me to end it. “We might be able to do something to help you.”
There was no sign of understanding – or even intelligence – in the vampire’s eyes. That was probably a bad sign. It was staring at me, watching and waiting, looking for an opening. I clutched the umbrella in one hand, careful to keep the point pointed down towards the ground. I couldn’t afford to reveal that surprise too soon. The only thing keeping the vampire from abandoning the game and leaping for me was its conviction that I couldn’t really harm it. If that changed…it would either run for its life, or try to kill me before I could kill it.
I focused the spell and let it loose, creating a wall of fire between us. The vampire hissed – the first sound I had heard it make – and leapt through the fire, teeth and claws extended. The magical field that had created and defined it was growing stronger, transforming the vampire’s hands into claws, even as the vampire’s clothing caught fire and started to burn. The vampire wasn’t bothered by the flame, or the burning flesh; it just came at me. I ducked – I had a vague mental impression of a cloak flying out behind the creature, even though it wasn't wearing a cape – and lifted the umbrella. The vampire had no time to react and impaled itself on the weapon. The weight pushed me back, sending me falling to the ground, but even as my butt hit the hard tarmac…it was over. The vampire seemed, for one moment, to hesitate with a very surprised expression on its face, and then it exploded into a cloud of dust.
“So there,” I said, pulling myself to my feet. I don’t know why I said that either. The wind was already catching the dust and blowing it here and there. No one would be able to resurrect the poor damned creature, no matter how much blood they splashed on the ground. Nothing, not even a vampire could pull itself together after that. I crossed myself slowly, feeling my body aching. I was definitely getting too old for this. “May you rest in peace.”
I made the sign of the cross over the largest pile of dust, before turning to look for the whore. She was where I had left her, frozen. The spell prevented all forms of voluntary movement. It didn’t actually hurt anyone, but it had prevented her from running or coming to her master’s aid. I released the spell and she lunged at me. I barely had a moment to register the fangs before she was on me, slamming me down to the ground and straddling me. She had been a vampire all along! The realisation held me as paralysed as the spell had held her. I hadn’t killed the head vampire, merely someone she had converted! No wonder that the male vampire had been so silent, so unintelligent. It had been in Thrall to her.
She leaned down towards me, her teeth searching for my neck, and I panicked. I acted instinctively, launching a blast of raw magic right into her face. I saw her skull come apart as the magic tore through her, trying to force her to transform or die, but her vampire nature was too strong. I barely had a moment to wriggle away from her before she reformed and came after me. She lashed out and sent me sprawling to the ground again. I felt as if a single punch had broken my back.
“You will be mine,” she said, as she reached down and effortlessly turned me over. It was all I could do to remain awake. Blackness kept threatening to overwhelm my mind. I groped desperately for the umbrella, but she snatched it out of my hand, broke it in two effortlessly, and threw the two pieces away. She kept repeating a mantra as she pushed me down. “You will be mine.”
Her red eyes seemed to bore into my soul as the fangs emerged, again. I wasn't imagining the blood dripping down onto my chest as she reached for my neck. I could feel the blood of all her past victims. An idea occurred to me – a complete Hail Mary pass – and I reached up towards her, weakly trying to push her away. She ignored my groping hand as I touched her body – she felt cold, not warm and friendly – and I took my chance. I drew on my magic and transformed my arm into a wooden stake, pushing it into her chest. The pain was stunning, far worse than I expected, and I screamed. She screamed too, a howl of fury and homicidal rage, and then she exploded into dust. A moment later, I managed to trigger my cell phone and call for help. I needed medical help and time to recover.
My job being what it was, I doubted it would be long before another crisis forced me to go back into the field.
And I was right.
Chapter Seven
Talking to politicians is fine, but with a little money they hear you better.
-Justin Dart
It was Wilkinson himself who woke me, two days after I faced the vampires.
“There’s been an…incident,” he explained, as I stumbled out of the hospital bed. The medical wing of the Circle was the most comfortable part of the building, but naturally we weren't allowed to stay there for long. There are too many medical emergencies involving magic to distract the doctors from us. “It’s rather political.”
“And there’s no one else to see to it,” I said. It’s at times like this that I wished that we had more Guardians, or perhaps a less inclusive mandate. The other Guardians would be on their own missions, or patrolling areas that were rapidly becoming magical hot spots, if not danger zones. “What’s happening?”
I dressed rapidly as he talked. One of the benefits of magic returning to the world is that magic can be used to heal people far quicker than more mundane techniques. I had been bruised and battered when the vampires had finished with me, but a quick stay in the care of the medical wizards had fixed most of the physical problems. They couldn’t do anything for the tiredness, or the soul-destroying numbness spreading through my mind, apart from recommending bed rest. I hadn’t been allowed to sleep for long. There was just too much work to do.
“A child has been kidnapped,” Wilkinson said. I felt my eyes spring wide open. The dragon had warned me about the children of magic. “It may be a simple case, but the word has come down from on high. The President himself wants the case wrapped up as soon as possible and the child returned, yesterday.”
I had to smile. Magic could do a lot of things, including a number of tasks that scientists swore were impossible before magicians did them, but no one had succeeded in using magic to travel in time. It was true that time and space did some odd things near the Faerie Mounds, or some of the areas where magic had been allowed to grow out of control, but I hadn’t heard of anyone stepping back in time. There was no way to give the President exactly what he’d asked us to do.
“I see,” I said, finally. Fo
r some reason, the new bruises had left scars that were still visible on my flesh, adding to the other scars. Magical healing had limits, even though few of the limits made any kind of sense. “What’s so special about this child?”
“It’s the youngest daughter of Vincent Faye,” Wilkinson said. He looked unhappy as he spoke and I could see why. The Faye Family were one of the wealthiest families in the country – think Bill Gates, but with magic instead of bug-ridden computer software – and they had plenty of friends in Washington. Vincent himself was a close personal friend of the President, according to the political newspapers, which probably meant that he had made vast donations to the President’s campaign chest. It would be interesting to see if they remained friends when the money ran out. “The President wants results, Glass.”
Bastard, I thought, angrily. I didn’t blame Wilkinson, but I could be very angry at the President. We had enough problems with political interference without piling this on top of us. It was bad enough that some congressmen wanted us to ban the use of magic wands…even though magic wands, apart from a handful of artefacts that came out of Faerie, are little more than a fad. Newly blossomed wizards and witches use them to focus their magic, but no competent magic-user needed a wand. I had never used one in my life. Banning them would be about as effective as banning dihydrogen monoxide. Our figures suggested that most of the people who used wands were very low-level magic users, if that. They were mainly used by fakes.
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