Breed: Slayer

by Sandra Seymour

  “Maxi, wait!”

  I struggle. I’m not listening. Every instinct is to get free and get to Howard before Jax has chance to do any real damage.

  “If you go with them, they will use you against us.”

  Our eyes meet, and I see nothing but earnest honesty there. But Dillon has betrayed me already. He is a master of trickery. I don’t trust him.

  I struggle free and we face each other, crouched ready to fight. My breath is shallow as I hiss, “Better them than you, you bastard.”

  I look past him to check on Howard. Black-clad vampires have joined him, pulling Jax away. Six of them are fighting him now. One falls.

  “No, Max, don’t you see?”

  I’m not looking at Dillon. I’m watching two vampires bundle Howard into the van. Dillon’s voice is strained, hurt.

  “If you allow them to do this, this war will spill out beyond us to the humans. There will be terrible bloodshed like you’ve never seen.”

  My eyes flick back to Dillon, taking in the grim set of his jaw, the deep furrow in his brow, the silver flecks in his eyes. Beneath his sincere expression is a boiling anger every bit as vicious as the trueblood’s.

  “Like it hasn’t already?”

  “What’s happened tonight is nothing more than a street brawl compared to what will happen if you join The Coven.”

  “I’m not joining The Coven. I’m just stopping The Breed from killing my parents. Fall back. Let me deal with it.”

  Dillon’s shoulders drop, “That’s not my decision to make Max. Sam will never allow it.”

  He moves in closer, but doesn’t attack. I scan the hangar, but there’s no sign of Sam. Not fast enough to get to the hastily scrambled plane in time? Dillon grabs my elbows and shakes them gently.

  “He’s obsessed with you. He thinks he can end the vampire nation if you are with him. But if you are with them now....”

  “What?”

  Dillon’s eyes drop and my mind swims with images. A battlefield strewn with dismembered bodies. A city reduced to rubble. A pile of bodies with a horde of scavenging vampires draining them dry. More cities decimated, by invading forces and air strikes. Humans rioting around the world, and vampires rounding them up like cattle, hooking them up to drips and draining their blood in dingy grey factories. The images are still flashing in my mind, but I can’t stand any more. I wince and pull away. He wants to put that on me?

  “I have no choice, Dillon,” I’m shaking with anger. “I have to go with them. I can’t leave Libby.”

  I pull away and he offers no resistance. I run for the van, diving in with the others as the door slams shut and we drive off in another hail of bullets.

  The van is cramped with Quidel, Faruk, Howard, Libby, and me, our luggage, plus the half-dozen vampires who piled in with us, but it is bulletproof. The rest of the vampires from the plane have been left behind. I don’t rate their chances.

  THE GUNFIRE BECOMES sporadic then dies away as we move through a city, and then through grey and desolate countryside. It’s made even more miserable by the tinted windows. We pass through a series of small towns, interspersed with grey-green fields. Mist rolls off them, and a steady drizzle settles in. We drive for a couple of hours, meeting no other traffic. We pass through a forest, and when we emerge from it, we are climbing a mountainside.

  Sam’s visions haunt me as we drive. As hard as I try to shut them out, the pictures keep springing into my mind. Packs of vampires and slayers roaming the countryside. Roadsides lined with spikes, some with heads and some with whole bodies mounted on them. Dried blood trails streak from their eyes, nose, and mouths.

  In other images, dismembered bodies hang in cages, or are simply piled high and set alight. Graveyards are sacked and emptied of their bodies. Churches and Cathedrals are burned to the ground.

  The problem is, the images feel like premonitions, passed straight from mind to mind, and I can’t see Sam as a prophet. I’ve never heard any suggestion of him having visions before, while he listens to Dillon’s warnings. The visions feel more familiar, too, as if they’ve come from Dillon. It’s possible Sam showed him images and he’s altered them as he passed them to me, but I don’t believe that. So why would Dillon try to pass the visions off as Sam’s?

  I run the conversation back through my head, and realise - he didn’t. The visions are Dillon’s warning to me about what Sam will do if he thinks I’ve joined The Coven. But why would he imagine I’d do that?

  Eventually the van stops and the driver rolls down his window, wincing at the morning light. It’s around nine thirty, and even in the fog, the undead are becoming uncomfortable. Their severe allergy to UV light makes their skin itch, and they start rubbing at the exposed areas nervously. The driver speaks to a human guard in a low tone. The van crawls forward and in a few moments the side door opens. The vampires step out. Howard follows, then Libby. I follow last.

  We have reached the heart of the vampire nation, and other than that we’re somewhere in Europe, I don’t have a clue where that is. I don’t know what I expected. Castles and dungeons, maybe?

  It looks like a military base. There are several various-sized buildings scattered around a large central construction, which has a tower with huge windows at the top. Some of the buildings around the edges of the camp seem to be spewing out of the mountainside. Humans and vampires are milling around. My view is obscured by the two dozen or more black-clad vamps surrounding me.

  I have no taste for bloodshed, thanks to the images Dillon showed me, but they do. Every one of them would like to rip me apart right now. I figure the best course of action is to submit, and not give them any excuse, for the time being.

  “What is this, Alaric?” Howard asks of the big trueblood in the centre of the group. Now, that one looks like he is part of the master race, a walking pair of shoulders, topped off by an angular alabaster face and blond flat-topped short back and sides.

  “Welcome, Howard,” his voice is thick and guttural, and as insincere as his smile. “Come with me. The women will wait in your quarters.”

  He inclines his head sideways and two vampires move in close to each side of me.

  I calculate how long it would take me to drop them and get to Libby. I reckon her odds would be too slim, so I allow them to take my arms.

  “Howard?” Libby’s voice is shrill, but when he nods, she allows the vampire who has taken her arm to lead her away without a struggle.

  “Quidel ...” Howard begins as we leave.

  “… told you we could make no assurances,” Alaric replies curtly. “They will be safe for the time being, until we have held conference at least.

  “Falk?” Howard’s question sounds strangled.

  “Falk will join us shortly. He is out on business.”

  The Coven

  THE REST OF their conversation is lost to me amid the thoughts of the vampires and humans we pass. Some of the humans look at Libby with pity, others with scorn. She ignores them all, walking with her head held high, her back straight and shoulders squared. Her face is serene, but I know her too well to be fooled. She clenches and releases her fists repeatedly. Her eyes are everywhere, not so much taking in the details as trying to find somewhere safe to settle.

  The humans look at me with confusion and horror, and the vampires’ fear and hatred is amplified. I have felt this loathing before, but always tempered with respect, and a healthy dose of fear. Here, in their stronghold, and with me so desperately outnumbered, the respect is absent, the fear diminished. The weight of their abhorrence is crushing. I wonder if Dillon was right, and I should not have come here, but I look at Libby and know I could not have left her.

  We enter a long grey building, three stories high and with no windows. Our escorts lead us through a series of dimly lit corridors. Every few hundred yards, we stop at security gates as they speak into intercom boxes mounted on the walls. Each gate has three cameras mounted around it, to cover all angles. Beneath each camera a small UV light bulb emit
s a purple glow. The eyes and teeth of the vampires fluoresce. Somewhere, in a control room, someone is looking at a rare sight: vampires caught on camera.

  I try a tentative probe, to see how difficult this system will be to work around. A small red light on the intercom panel starts flashing. A tamper alarm. That’s interesting, but won’t take too long to disable.

  At the end of a long corridor, we enter a lift that takes us to the second floor. It’s large, but even so, there are enough of them with us to make it crowded. The undead don’t perspire, but the whiff of cinnamon and musk in this enclosed space tells me if they could, they would be sweating profusely. The slow-moving cage grinds to a stop and the doors rumble open.

  We spill out of the lift onto a wide landing. Several doors lead off it. A low moan sounds from the recesses behind one of them, echoing off the walls. It’s followed by a round of screams - they are human. Libby tenses and the vampires allow her to move closer to me. We walk together unrestrained between them, as we pass through another security gate and into a dark, narrow passage.

  After a hundred feet or so, we turn a corner and the passage widens out. On the left are a series of cells. There are bunkbeds in them, sinks, and toilets; all open to view. The plastered walls have given way to rough stone at the back of the cells. This facility is built on the ruins of a much older one, a prison at a guess.

  The first two cells hold sleeping prisoners, huddled under filthy blankets on soiled mattresses. The third is empty, although the unmade bed and a few scattered possessions suggest its inhabitant will be returning later. As we reach the fourth, a skeletal figure grabs the bars and rattles them. Libby flinches and clutches my arm, but hers is the only reaction. None of the vampires even looks at the captive. In the fifth cell, a woman, still recognisable as human but pale and sickly, watches us balefully as we pass.

  The vampires halt at the sixth door. We wait while one of them unlocks it and gestures for Libby to enter. The trueblood lied about sending us to Howard’s quarters. Libby looks at me with enormous eyes, but I nod and encourage her to do their bidding. I will come back for her later. She enters and they lock the door. She turns and stands behind the bars, her hands by her sides, and watches me as I move off with the guards. Despite her best attempt at bravery, her chin is beginning to quiver as I turn another corner and am gone from her sight.

  I follow the guards through an unlit lab. There’s a strong chemical smell, but it doesn’t conceal the stench of human blood and burning flesh. Anger wells up inside me and my mouth is dry. I clench my hands and focus on the points of pain in my palms as my nails begin to extend, willing them to remain retracted. It gives me something to concentrate on, and I resist the change.

  We stop in front of a huge iron door. The vampire who unlocks it struggles to pull it open, dragging it in juddering steps across the floor. The vampires stand aside as I move through the gap. The room behind the door is nothing more than a cubicle. The walls are rough-hewn rock. The door shudders to a close behind me, and I am plunged into darkness.

  There’s no light, but I don’t need light to see, and my eyes adjust quickly. The space is no more than three feet wide, by six feet long. There’s a stone ledge to serve as a bed along the back wall. It must be carved into the mountain. The door takes up three feet. A hole dug out in the corner offers the only sanitation.

  I smell the air and know I am the only inhabitant this room has had in a long time, perhaps ever. The vampires move off, the sound of their conversation muted by the thick walls and solid door, even to my sensitive ears. I settle down to wait.

  In the quiet and dark of the cell I can detach and observe. I close my eyes, concentrating first on visualising my body from the outside. The picture is hazy at first, but I fill in the details: the worn, faded jeans; the loose, round neck of the turquoise top; the slow rise and fall of my chest beneath it, and the stray wisp of hair that curls around my chin. When the image is clear, I visualise my eyes opening and feel the surge of energy leaving them, followed by a jolt. My spirit is free.

  I check the cell for tamper alarms, but there are none, so I move back out through the walls and into the lab. I deliberately trip the alarm on one of the security doors there, and follow the signal back through wires in the walls to a sender unit that transmits wirelessly to a receiver in the control room. Focusing on the receiver, I send my spirit to the room at the top of the central tower where it is housed.

  The room is full of computers, but it is late in the morning, and they are all used by humans. A red light blinks on one of them, accompanied by an electronic bleep. The technician flicks a switch, and looks at the screen. Seeing nothing to concern him, he presses a small green button on the console, and the red light blinks out. I check the circuitry. It doesn’t take long to figure out how to disable the system. One small adjustment later, I’m sure my spirit, at least, has the full run of this base, and I am free to wander back through the facility.

  There are more humans here than I expected. Some are in terrible pain. Their thoughts are mostly of death and salvation, though some dream fitfully of bloody revenge. Some are afraid, and work resentfully and wearily. But others are here of their own choice, hoping to serve and even join the vampires. I draw back from their thoughts, appalled.

  I FOCUS ON Libby, and return to her cell. She’s perched on the edge of the grimy bed, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes closed.

  She is wondering what has happened to me.

  ‘Don’t worry about me.’

  She opens her eyes, her neck extending toward the bars of the cell in hope. When she doesn’t see me there, her shoulders droop. She thinks she’s imagining things.

  ‘No, they may have imprisoned my body, but my soul is free to roam.’

  She still thinks it’s just her imagination, but it gives her some comfort. She wonders where Howard is. I scan the area and find him. He’s in a large room with several other vampires.

  I can’t see them clearly, because Faruk is there. So are Quidel, and the other trueblood who met us on our arrival. Another tall, dark purebreed enters, and all eyes turn to him.

  “Ah, Falk,” the blond one’s voice booms.

  I see them as clearly as if I were in the room with them.

  “Alaric, Quidel,” the newcomer smiles thinly, then he turns to me, and I gasp, before I realise I’m seeing the scene through Howard’s eyes.

  “Howard. It has been too long.”

  ‘Not long enough,’ Howard thinks before replying, “Too long indeed grandfather Falk. I trust you are well? And Grandmother Ruth?”

  “Always, my child, but what is this folly?”

  Falk’s superficial attempt at civility is gone. His gaunt face makes no attempt to hide his anger. It’s a steady, brooding anger, not a boiling, impetuous one. It’s implacable.

  “You abandon your kin in favour of this human and her rasa cur? You have us believe in your destruction, only to return decades later with the pair of them in tow? What do you expect, Howard? Open arms and forgiveness? Perhaps,” Falk’s expression softens slightly, as he looks straight through Howard without seeing him, “Tilda may forgive your errant ways.”

  Then his eyes snap back to Howard, and they are so black and their expression so bleak, I cringe from them. “Not I, Howard. I do not forgive easily.”

  I have no doubt of the truth of those words, as Falk turns from Howard to Alaric and Quidel. The three of them walk a few paces away. Their conversation is muted, and as Faruk moves closer to them, the group loses focus in my mind. I take in the other minds in the room; all vampires, emitting a mixture of disbelief, anger, and resentment at Howard’s return from the dead.

  A female vampire, with long flowing honey-blonde hair, enters the room and walks straight up to Howard. She stops in front of him, slaps him in the face and then hugs him.

  “How could you? Do I mean so little to you?” Her eyes are glittering, her pale jaw set in anger.

  Howard does not have chance to answer, or even
to consider the question. Falk and the other elders return, and the female steps to Falk’s side, bowing her head.

  “You should not have brought them here,” Falk’s voice is as expressionless as his face. “You should not have come. You bring grave danger to us all with your presence. Alaric would have the human and the mongrel killed, and you exiled.”

  The expression on Alaric’s face suggests he would not be sad to see Howard dead, either.

  “Quidel believes you can yet be of value, and would spare you all,” Falk’s lips curl, and it’s clear this is not an appealing thought for him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh. “Princess Lilleth is distraught, of course, but she will not intervene either way on behalf of a Strigoi. As you are Tornicasa, it falls to me to decide your fate. If you choose to re-join our cause, you are welcome. The witch may be of value, but not as she is. I have a mind to declare the spawn’s life is forfeit ...”

  “Tatal ...” the female raises her head.

  Falk silences her without even looking at her, raising a single finger and shaking his head. His eyes are fixed on Howard.

  “Not now, Tilda. I will reserve judgement. I need to take council with my cousins first. She will stay where she is for now. Come.”

  Falk turns and walks away, followed by the female. Alaric growls and then storms off in the opposite direction.

  Quidel puts a hand on Howard’s shoulder, saying “Take heart, friend. Everything is not lost.”

  I tense as I detect a thought in him, but Faruk moves in and I can’t get a hold of it.

  My vision blurs and I am ejected from Howard’s mind. I hear a whooshing sound as I fly backwards away from them, through a wall and out into the bright noon light. I see a mountain, with a lush green valley, at the head of which is a long thin lake, briefly, before passing through rock once more, unable to control my movements. I snap back into my own body and my head jerks back at the force of the reconnection.