Of Masques and Martyrs

by Christopher Golden

  But she was frightened for him, and she just had to know.

  By the time she ran from the house into the courtyard, shielding her eyes from the brightness of the day, a small group had gathered around the black cocoon, there amidst the deep green and the rainbow of flowers. The smell of the garden and the earth was very strong that day.

  There weren’t very many people left in the house, not counting those volunteers who’d yet to rise, so Nikki was the last to run into the garden.

  The cocoon had cracked and flaked at its base, where it was attached to the path and the bench. Its outer layers had whitened, like dead skin, and begun to peel. It was more brittle than ever. But as far as Nikki could see, those were the only changes in the thing.

  Then it moved! Or rather, something inside it moved, pressing against the outer shell like a baby against its mother’s belly.

  Caleb appeared at her side.

  “Where’s George?” she asked, noting the distinct sound of panic in her voice.

  “He wasn’t in his room,” Caleb replied.

  “He should be here,” Nikki said, but made no move to go look for him.

  None of them did. It was impossible to look away.

  A crack appeared in the top of the cocoon, near the center. What appeared to be a hand snaked through. But it wasn’t a hand like any Nikki had ever seen. White and gossamer, it was almost like the mist the shadows could become, but more solid than that. More purposeful. Ghost fingers tore at the cocoon, widening the hole from the inside.

  “God, what’s happened to him?” Nikki whispered.

  Then, though the hole in the cocoon was still far too small for a human body to crawl through, another hand appeared next to the first. What dragged itself from the cocoon had some resemblance to Peter, at least in its face. In its eyes. But it was a wraith, a spectre modeled after Octavian but containing none of his real presence. His self.

  It looked around at those gathered by the cocoon, eyes resting at last on Nikki. It smiled.

  “Peter?” she asked weakly.

  Then, so quickly as to be almost invisible to her, it shot into the sky above the convent and disappeared into the clouds. Became one with them, perhaps, since it seemed to have almost the same consistency. They all stared into the sky, and nobody spoke.

  Nikki was aware of a sadness, somewhere inside her, trying to break free. Her brain was telling her that Peter was gone, that she would never see him again. That whatever he’d become was not for her to experience. But her heart was so full of joy, a bliss brought by the wraith’s appearance, that such despairing thoughts were kept at bay. Suddenly she was filled with hope and love and patience.

  “What was it?” a voice asked from behind her, and for the first time she realized that Kuromaku had joined them outside.

  “It was . . . it was beautiful,” Kevin murmured.

  “An angel,” someone whispered.

  Nobody argued.

  “His soul,” she said suddenly, though it was only a guess. “I think it was his soul.”

  “If that was his soul, where is his body?” Kuromaku asked, clearly less affected by what they’d all seen than the others.

  There came a sudden snarl from inside the cocoon. As one, they turned their attention on the cracked and flaking shell of the thing. Whatever they’d just seen hadn’t been alone in there. Something still moved inside the chrysalis.

  Black claws slashed the length of the cocoon from the inside. Nikki jumped back several feet, screaming. Where the thing’s claws dug in, despite its dessicated appearance, the cocoon appeared to be bleeding ever so slightly.

  A powerful hand gripped her shoulder, pulling her backwards.

  “Behind me,” Kuromaku said and once again astonished her by pulling a sword from his side, from a scabbard that an instant earlier had not existed in the world.

  “Kuromaku!” Kevin barked. “Back off. It’s Peter!”

  “I sense you are right,” Kuromaku said. “But if Nikki guessed correctly, if that was Peter’s soul, then what is left behind?”

  As if in answer, there was a roar from within the cocoon. Black, gnarled hands curved into claws gripped the edges of the huge slash in the cocoon, and darkness erupted into the daylight. The creature was tall and spindly, like a mantis, but humanoid. Its body was nearly flat, its eyes reflective and empty. Its mouth was filled with rows of needle teeth and its claws were ebony razors.

  It stood, panting, glancing around at them almost as the wraith had done moments before. Like the wraith, this thing’s face bore a resemblance to Peter. Like the wraith, its gaze came to rest on Nikki, who still stood behind Kuromaku, and it smiled. But its smile was the smile of a predator that has sighted its prey.

  “Peter, no!” Kevin shouted. “Just stand there! We’ll help you!”

  “That’s not Peter,” Kuromaku said warily and held his sword up in defensive posture.

  The thing watched Kuromaku’s sword a moment, waited for an opening, and then lunged toward him. Nikki screamed as Kuromaku brought the katana around, its blade flashing in the sun, slashing across the chest of the ebony demon. Darkness spilled like blood from the wound and the thing shrieked in pain and leaped backward.

  Caleb and Kevin were the first to attack, slashing at the dark wraith. But Nikki could see that its wounds were already healing. It raked its claws across Caleb’s face, and one of his eyes burst, squirting viscous fluid over the crusty remains of the cocoon.

  From nowhere, it dawned on Nikki what they were fighting.

  “It’s a vampire!” she cried.

  “No shit,” Kevin snapped, grappling with the thing from behind, trying to drive it down to the stone path.

  But Kuromaku understood her, turned to meet her eyes a moment, then sheathed his katana. This time, it didn’t disappear. He held his hands up, and as Nikki watched, they changed. Fingers into claws, claws into long silver spikes.

  The dead eyes of the vampire seemed to widen. It roared, reached over its shoulders, and grabbed Kevin. The thing threw Kevin at Caleb and the others. In the heartbeat that it had before Kuromaku would have lunged at it, the thing seemed to shake like a wet dog, and dark, leathery wings sprouted from its back with a painful tearing sound.

  “No!” Kuromaku growled and dove after the thing.

  But too late. It took flight and was quickly moving over the convent walls, even as Kuromaku turned to make certain Nikki was all right.

  “I’m fine!” she snapped. “Aren’t you going after it?”

  It. The word rang in her head. What if it was Peter? He had attacked her, meant to kill her, she was sure. But why? Even in his subconscious mind, what reason would Peter have to want to kill her? On the other hand, she thought with relief, she’d been the only human being in the courtyard at the time.

  “I’ll go!” Kevin said. “Caleb, with me!”

  Kevin pointed to two others he wanted to accompany him, and soon they were changing form, sprouting wings themselves. But unlike the dark wraith, they had changed completely, into birds of prey and bats. Before they changed, Nikki noticed that Caleb’s face had begun to heal, but that he was still missing an eye. Surprised to find herself fascinated rather than repulsed, she wondered if somehow the eye was gone for good.

  “Oh, my God,” she said, suddenly unable to stand as the shock of all she’d just seen caught up with her.

  Nikki went down on her ass on the path and drew her knees up. She examined the hole in the denim on her left knee, ran a hand through her hair.

  “Why didn’t you go with them?” she asked Kuromaku.

  “Now that they know the thing fears silver, they will have the advantage,” he answered. “Also, I was not sure that you were honest when you said you were fine.”

  Nikki laughed. “I lied,” she admitted. “So sue me.”

  The other shadows in the courtyard milled about, watching the sky for Kevin and the others to return. One of them went back inside to check on the volunteers, to see if any of them
had risen yet.

  “So what now?” she asked. “I mean, was that it? Was that thing his soul, and the rest of it . . . I don’t know, the vampire part of him? That’s what it was, right? A true vampire like the ones that Mulkerrin guy conjured up in Austria? The things that infected the first shadows? That was one of them, the one that Peter had become, wasn’t it?”

  Nikki heard the panic, the near hysteria, in her voice but she did not try to hide it. It was nothing to be ashamed of, she told herself. Not after what she’d just seen. She did, however, try to push away the little, insinuating voice asking how she could have had feelings for a creature that was nothing more than ghost and monster rolled into one.

  Which made her frown, blink back her tears, and look more closely at Kuromaku. After all, what was he but the same thing. No matter how much he tried to be a friend.

  “So it would seem,” Kuromaku replied, but did not elaborate. “What will you do now? If you wish to leave, I will be happy to get you out of the city, somewhere safe.”

  “Does that even exist anymore?” she asked. “Somewhere safe? Or is that like Oz or Atlantis now?”

  He only tilted his head slightly, awaiting her answer.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Yes, please. Get me out of here.”

  Kuromaku offered her his hand, and Nikki took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She brushed off the seat of her pants, took a deep breath, and turned to go back into the convent to get what few things she had retrieved from her rooms and brought there the day after she’d met Peter.

  “Nikki?”

  The hoarse whisper had not come from Kuromaku.

  Behind them, the cocoon began to move again; its papery layers rasped against one another.

  “Peter?” she asked hopefully.

  Kuromaku drew his sword and stood on guard as human hands gripped the edges of the cocoon and Peter Octavian, looking gaunt and tired, struggled to stand.

  “What’d I miss?” he asked.

  “Oh, Peter!” Nikki cried.

  As he stepped from the cocoon, she rushed forward to meet him. Kuromaku blocked her way and held his sword up to Peter’s chest, preventing him from getting any closer to her.

  “A moment, Octavian,” Kuromaku said menacingly.

  “Kuromaku?” Peter said, eyes wide with surprise. “Apparently, I’ve missed a great deal. It’s . . . fantastic to see you.”

  A strange look passed over Peter’s face then, and he seemed to rock forward on the balls of his feet. Then he fell, or rather, crumpled to the stone path. His forehead smacked hard against the ground, but he didn’t move again.

  “Peter?” Kuromaku asked, his voice filled with wonder.

  “It is him,” Nikki said, suddenly sure. “It really is.”

  Kuromaku knelt by Peter’s side and turned him over. Nikki joined him there and, out of reflex, felt for a pulse and put her ear to his chest. It rose and fell under her cheek. His heartbeat was strong, his breathing seemed regular.

  “What are you doing?” Kuromaku asked.

  “Just checking to see . . . ”

  She looked up, met Kuromaku’s questioning gaze, and realized how silly she’d been. Shadows didn’t have—Her eyes widened. Then she noticed that Kuromaku had looked away. She tried to see what he was looking at and realized that it was the rapidly rising welt on Peter’s forehead. There was a nasty cut there, too. A thin line of blood ran down the side of his face and dripped to the ground.

  “He’s bleeding,” Kuromaku said in astonishment.

  “And breathing,” Nikki added.

  “When Hannibal found out about Atlanta, he went crazy. He went down to New Orleans, after Peter and the others. But he wanted Jimenez dead very badly. This was his plan. Though it didn’t include breaking you out, Allison. That, I did for you, and for Rolf.”

  “But coming here was my idea,” Allison said, frowning.

  “Yeah,” Erika sniffed. “I had to gamble that you’d suggest it, otherwise I would have had to come up with it eventually. It wouldn’t have made much sense if I’d said it right off, kind of suspicious, actually. But now we’re all here, right?”

  She smiled. “Time to kill somebody.”

  “Erika,” Cody said, and his voice was a command in itself.

  The girl seemed to pause, and though Roberto could not see her face he knew she would have looked at him. His voice demanded it.

  “You loved Rolf, I know you did,” Cody continued. “Hannibal is only using you.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” she roared, and Roberto felt something warm drip onto his cheek. Its smell was too familiar.

  Blood? She was crying blood.

  “You don’t know me, any of you!” she declared. “You don’t know anything about me! Before I joined your coven, I’d only been a vampire two years. And I never killed. Never! I took blood, but never a life!

  “Not until Hannibal took me. He killed Rolf in front of me, and then he starved me until I was out of my mind, and then he gave me a . . . gave me a victim!” she wailed. “And that’s the way it should be! Sweet blood, the power of life and death!

  “We’re monsters, you fucking idiots! Monsters! There are only two choices; to hide in the shadows or to take the humans as our slaves, our prey!”

  Her breasts pressed against the back of Roberto’s head, her claws at his throat, and suddenly she went completely still.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, and Roberto knew it was time for him to die.

  “How dare you?” Allison growled, her face contorting, and stepped forward.

  Erika froze. Roberto closed his eyes and prayed.

  “After what I went through at Hannibal’s hands, you stand up there and say you can’t take it? You miserable little weak-willed bitch! Go ahead. then. Kill Jimenez and probably Peter and all the others as well. But when you’re done, you’re mine.”

  Roberto stiffened. What the fuck was Allison trying to do? Some vampire girl goes psycho, he thought, you don’t keep pushing her buttons. The girl’s claws began to dig into his throat, and he winced, thought of his sister, Mercedes, and her sons, and how he hadn’t contacted them since Christmas. Then he opened his eyes. Roberto wasn’t going to die with his eyes closed.

  Then Erika cried out a name, “Yano,” and suddenly the claws were gone from his throat.

  “Get down, Commander!” Cody shouted, and Roberto pitched forward, rolled, and came up facing his cot.

  Sebastiano knelt on Erika’s back, a hypodermic needle plunged into her neck. Bloody tears streaked her face and now fell onto his sheets. She started to struggle. Yano rapped her hard in the back of the head with his huge fist, and Erika lay still.

  “Why isn’t she changing?” he croaked.

  “That’s what this stuff does,” Sebastiano replied. “She can’t.”

  “You mean . . . ” Roberto began, and as Sebastiano nodded, the commander started to realize what this weapon would mean.

  “Thanks for the save,” he said, and Sebastiano only nodded again.

  “Yano, where did you get that if the case was empty?” Allison asked.

  “I didn’t trust her,” Yano replied. “I brought my own.”

  “Thank God,” Allison sighed.

  “And the antidote too?” Cody asked.

  “Yes, the antidote too,” he answered. “But none for her. She’s a traitor and a headcase. She’s a liability. Give the commander back his gun.”

  Silence, then, as each of them realized what Sebastiano was suggesting. Jimenez looked at the hypodermic, at the unconscious vampire girl, and then held out his hand to Allison.

  “We don’t have much time,” he said.

  She grunted, but handed his sidearm over. Their hands met with the gun between them.

  “Wait!” Cody snapped.

  “It’s what needs to be done,” Sebastiano said calmly.

  “Maybe so,” Cody admitted. “But not like this. It should be one of us.”

  Again, they loo
ked around at one another. Finally, Allison took the gun back. Grimly, and without tears, she stepped forward, placed the barrel of the weapon at the back of Erika’s head, and fired twice. Gore splashed across sheets and pitiful pillow.

  There was an uproar outside the tent, feet pounding, soldiers shouting, weapons clacking as they were brought to bear. Allison handed the sidearm back to Roberto, but didn’t meet his eyes.

  Roberto could only stare at Erika’s corpse, then at the thin metal case, much smaller than the first, that Sebastiano opened for him. Inside, there were half a dozen vials of clear fluid.

  “Okay,” he said, nodding, thinking of a million things he needed to do if they were going to be of any help against Hannibal. “Okay, let’s go. No time to waste.”

  Someone shouted to him from outside, and Roberto turned and marched out of his tent.

  “Put down your goddamn weapons and listen up,” he barked. “Looks like we may have another sleepless night ahead of us.”

  When Peter woke, he didn’t open his eyes right away. He felt rested, glad for what sleep he’d had, in a way he couldn’t ever remember appreciating it in the past. He opened his eyes, then winced at pain in his forehead and reached up to gingerly examine the bump and cut there. It took him a moment to search his mind for the appropriate spell. When he found it, a haze of green light sprang from his fingers. The skin on his forehead pinched a little, but afterward, all that remained was a little dry blood.

  “Peter?”

  He opened his eyes. Nikki. And behind her, Kuromaku. For a moment, the incongruity of this pairing threw him off, made his head spin just a little. He may not have a concussion, he thought, but that didn’t mean his head didn’t hurt. Peter cared for Nikki, more, perhaps, than he ought to, having known her so short a time. But that’s how it had always been with him. He’d meet someone and know, immediately, that this person was going to be important to him. To his life.

  He’d felt that way about Kuromaku as well, though not in any romantic way. Here was a man who might have been his brother, had not time and space conspired against them. Kuromaku was almost as close to him as Will Cody was. So, despite the incongruity, though he’d known her only a short time, and his fellow warrior for a century and a half, there was something very natural about them being there, together. There weren’t that many people he felt close to.