The door squeaked, opening slowly. Nidor glanced at the newcomer, and jumped up from the bed. Lord Ultor walked into the room.
“Domine,” the captain whispered pleadingly. “Salve eum...”
Ultor nodded. His eyes were bloodshot; it was clear that he was tired too. The nighter became silent. He moved away a bit, making room for the lord.
He walked up to the bed, and pulled the blanket away, then moved his hands over Vesper’s breast.
“Don’t be afraid, nighter,” Ultor said calmly. “It’ll be all right. It will hurt for a little, and then it will be all right...” he smiled. “All right?”
Vesper nodded slowly, his throat tightening with a sudden sob.
“I can’t spare you the pain and let you sleep,” the lord said. “You have to help me. You have to hold on to life with all your strength so it doesn’t escape you.”
“How?” Vesper asked with difficulty. “How do I do it, my lord...” he coughed, spraying drops of blood all around.
Ultor sat on the bed, and began to unravel the bandages.
“You’ll see,” he said quietly. “You can do it, you’re tough. I knew right away, as soon as I saw you.” He lifted the bandages and glanced at wounded chest, shaking his head. “Hold it.” He handed the blood-soaked fabric to Nidor.
He placed his hands over the first shredded wound. The sniper’s bullets had pierced the bulletproof vest. The bullets had entered the body along with smashed pieces of the protective plates, wreaking real havoc inside.
Ultor was silent, and his face assumed a focused, solemn expression. He pressed his fingers to the wound’s edges and stared at the leaking blood.
Vesper yelled as some force jerked his insides mercilessly. A fiery ball of pain ripped from somewhere inside and made its way up in a slow, snail-like tempo. The nighter shivered whole, and tears streamed down his face.
“Hold on, kid, hold on,” Ultor said gently.
He jerked again, even stronger. The bullet, called by the lord, began to travel up to the surface. Pain pierced Vesper from the inside out; it grew at lightning speed, ripping an animalistic howl from his throat. Suddenly it abated, and darkness swathed the world, bringing unspeakable relief with itself.
Vesper relaxed, and a wide smile spread over his tear-stained face. He embraced the surrounding darkness, meeting it gladly.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Ultor said sharply. “Get back here, don’t even think it could be any different.”
He pulled once more, and the nighter felt something breaking and spreading hotness over his body. Lord Ultor tightened his hand, and then raised it triumphantly. He put it by the nighter’s face, straightened his fingers, displaying a bloody piece of lead.
“So the first one is behind us,” he said. “You’re doing great. From now, it’ll get better, this one was the worst. It sat right next to the aorta.”
Vesper fell to his pillow, sobbing without a shred of shame. Ultor extended his hand to Nidor. “Take it for him, he can keep it as a souvenir.” He tossed the other nighter the bullet, which he caught eagerly. “Later, he will pass on the souvenirs; he would have to start a scrap heap in his room otherwise... but he can keep the first one.”
Nidor nodded, his eyes glistened emotionally. But he didn’t say a word.
“So, are you ready?” Ultor asked, getting serious. “The sooner we start, the sooner it will be behind us.” He looked at Vesper carefully.
The young nighter sighed slightly, spreading bloody bubbles again. He nodded, and pursed his lips, waiting for the pain.
The lord put his hands on another wound.
***
The world returned with the scent of pinesap, wafting in through the opened window. Vesper opened his eyes. He inhaled deeply and let it out with a huge feeling of relief. Nothing hurt him this time.
He turned his head. A warm smile brightened his face.
Nidor sat in the chair next to the bed, his head lolling on his shoulder. He was asleep. He probably planned to watch him, before falling asleep this way.
Vesper pulled himself up to sit. He became dizzy instantly. He fell back onto the pillow, feeling how weak he was.
Nidor opened his eyes immediately.
“Welcome among the undead,” he said, blinking his sleepy eyes and shrugging off sleep hurriedly. “How do you feel? Are you taking today’s shift, or do you want to be a lazy a little longer?” He smiled with ill-hidden relief, seeing Vesper awake.
“For the glory of motherland,” the nighter replied weakly. “I’d like to bum around for a little longer.”
His friend obviously understood completely.
“Do you want me to bring you some food?” He asked smartly.
Vesper nodded slowly. Hungry, yes, he was definitely hungry.
“But wait...” he said, seeing Nidor get up from his place. “Take me to the hall with you. The lord and everyone are probably there, right?”
The other rolled his eyes in pretend grievance.
“Wow, you have some demands,” he said. “Now you want entertainment. I don’t know if I can drag you all the way there... but I’ll call the new guy, he can help.” He became silent, giving the order in his mind.
“The recruit got in?” Vesper was surprised. “And he woke up? Already?”
“Nah. Lord Ultor decided that dweeb is totally unsuited to be a nighter, at least for now,” the captain explained. “But since he’s promising, and since what happened, happened, he can stay here for some time. Maybe he’ll straighten out. He’s not gonna go anywhere anyway.” He smiled knowingly. “Ultor liked your Tylenol idea very much. You really got the kid worked up.”
Vesper nodded.
“And does the interested party know about it already?” he asked with interest. “That it’s all bull?”
“For now, we left it the way it was. He gets saline injections every twelve hours,” Nidor said. “He panics terribly when injection time comes, and asks whoever he can not to forget him. We wanted to switch to a twenty-four hour system, because it’s damn annoying, poking him all the time. But he got stubborn and said you needed to approve that twenty-four-hour switch, otherwise he won’t risk it. He obviously considers you some big fish, I don’t know why...” He shook his head, laughing lightly.
“What about Crumbly?” Vesper asked worriedly. “Are we going to take him to us? To the Night?”
Nidor sighed silently.
“I don’t know,” he said. “The lord will decide that. For now, we’ve put the man in the guest room. He can lay there and get better. And then, well... we’ll see.”
A quiet knock came at the door. Then it came again.
“Enter,” Nidor barked sharply.
The recruit straightened at the threshold before the officer.
“I report for duty, Captain!” he said with clear respect.
“The nighter needs to be moved to the TV hall,” Nidor stated solemnly. “But carefully. We’ll do it together.”
“Yes, sir!” the kid said, staring at Vesper shyly.
Worship and admiration reflected in his eyes. And—a little bit—fear.
***
When Ultor appeared at the hall’s door, all the nighters got up. Even Vesper tried to lift himself somewhat. Only the praetorians stayed in their chairs, watching the others with slight amusement.
“Sit,” the lord said.
He walked up to the bar, and poured himself a glass of blood. He faced the gathering. The nighters followed his every move tensely.
“And stop jumping up every time you see me,” he said with a sigh. “You’ll have to get used to my presence. I’m moving here for some time, until the situation calms down. The praetorians already have their orders. They already know English, which many of you also know, and they’ll start to learn Polish intensively; I hope you will help them with that.” He glanced around, meeting approving stares. He stood at the bar for a while, sipping blood from the glass. Suddenly he became serious, putting the glass on the counter.<
br />
“We have some reorganization to do” he stated. “We haven’t found Captain Umens yet. Captain Clam is dead. We need to fill up the ranks. Alacer becomes the new captain.” He nodded toward the nighter. “Congratulations.”
The promoted nighter bowed silently before the lord. The others nodded again. Lord Ultor still stood in place, observing the gathered nighters and praetorians. They watched him expectantly. This didn’t seem like all he had to say to them.
“The bodies of three dead Anti-Terrorists disappeared from the morgue,” Ultor announced slowly.
An astonished murmur passed through the room.
“The renegades stole them?” Alacer asked immediately. “But why, what for?”
Vesper felt a cold shiver take over his body. The feeling, that damn feeling again...
“They didn’t steal their bodies” he choked out suddenly through clenched teeth. “They... recruited them. Three days ago.”
All heads turned toward him. Ultor walked to him with a heavy, tired step.
“I think so too,” he said. “You were there for a while... do you have any idea how it could happen?”
The nighter shook his head, heaving heavily. He was swathed by that strange feeling again, as if some reality wanted to push itself into his head, and he was afraid to let it in. He wanted to find out, very much, but at the same time, some part of him tirelessly pushed it away.
“Easy, Vesper,” The lord said gently. “You know what happened there, you felt it the whole time. Don’t be afraid, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t prevent it in any way.”
The nighter shivered more, and tears swelled into his eyes. He blinked rapidly.
“The nurse,” he said suddenly, his lips trembling. “She walked up to them, killed them, gave them blood with the symbiont. And then left, as if nothing had happened. Like the angel of death... Mulier amicta sole.”
Ultor’s face tensed suddenly in a very odd expression.
“What did you say?” he whispered. “Why did you say it that way?”
A wave of weakness swept over the nighter. He stopped trembling, his head falling loosely on his shoulder, eyes staring into the ceiling.
“I saw her,” he said slowly. “She walked down the hall with a tray full of blood... Their blood. The sun shone from behind her, like it was surrounding her with its glow. Maybe that’s why those words came to my mind now: a woman swathed in sun, mulier amicta sole.”
Ultor nodded slowly.
“Et signum magnum paruit in caelo,” he whispered. “Mulier amicta sole.”
He sat in a chair opposite Vesper and closed his eyes.
“Et luna sub pedibus eius,” he kept speaking in a voice permeated with sadness. “Et in capite eius corona stellarum duodecim.” He hid his face in his hands and became silent.
Silence fell. Only the wind hit the windows, pulling out a silent moan from them.
“Apocalypsis Johannis,” Nidor said finally.
“Domine.” Vesper added, raising his head shyly.
Ultor pulled himself together. He lowered his hands and put them on his knees. He glanced around at the praetorians and nighters surrounding him.
“Yes, it’s the Apocalypse,” he stated in an even, strong voice. “Aranea’s favorite part.”
“What did it mean?” The recruit asked Nidor quietly. “I don’t know a word in Latin.”
“And a great miracle appeared in the sky: a woman swathed in the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head, a crown of twelve stars,” the other explained in a weary voice. “St. John’s Revelations, chapter twelve, first verse.”
“You saw her there?” Ultor asked, staring at Vesper. “How did she look?”
The nighter furrowed his brows in concentration.
“Hard to tell exactly, she wore hospital clothes after all, and had a scarf on her head,” he said uncertainly. “I didn’t pay attention until she looked at me. She had beautiful eyes. And terrible, like a storm. But I thought she was just a regular woman, there was nothing of us in her...”
“It could have been her,” the lord said. “She can hide, an even better hider than our Nidor. And she’s beautiful, very beautiful...” He broke off for a moment, diving deep into his thoughts.
The nighters stared at both of them worriedly.
“Enough for today,” Ultor said finally. “It’s nearly dawn, go sleep. Only the guard stays. The rest of you, to your quarters. Go!”
A slight murmur sounded across the room. The nighters got up from their spots, staring uncertainly at Ultor. The major wasn’t an easy commander, but living with Lord Ultor under one roof could be even more difficult... They filed toward the door momentarily.
Nidor and the recruit leaned over Vesper, lifting him off the couch.
“He stays,” The Lord said simply,
The others glanced at him briefly, then bowed, letting go of their colleague and joining the others. The hall emptied.
Vesper looked at the Lord with a slight tremble. Why... why like this?
“I have a small request,” the Lord said slowly. “I’d like to... look at her.”
Nighter ran his tongue over his lips, then shook his head, clearly not understanding. Look? How?
“Through your thoughts, if you allow me,” the other explained. “I’ll look at those moments in your memory. Then I’ll see her too.”
Vesper relaxed. Then nodded with a smile. “Of course, my lord,” he answered brightly. “Of course. Please have a look.”
Lord Ultor’s eyes pierced him immediately, paralyzing him completely. Vesper felt himself stiffen; he couldn’t even twitch, unable to look away from those burning eyes...
Suddenly a wave of violent feeling rolled over him, the strangest mix of pain, longing, and desire. It took over him all the way to the bone marrow, it seemed like he ceased to exist, that he was just this one dominating feeling. He began to tremble, as if every muscle fiber tensed and yelled out in protest. Some weight sat on his chest, his throat tightened, and his head fell loosely. The world around spun, then began to immerse in darkness.
“Thank you,” Ultor said, freeing him from his stare. “Thank you so much.”
Vesper inhaled with a rapid wheeze. He began to pant heavily. Saliva rolled down from the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” Lord Ultor said, somewhat flustered. “I think I was there too long. I forgot how weak you are. I’m sorry.”
The nighter raised his head, tried to smile. He didn’t manage it. He still gasped for air with difficulty.
“It’s all right, my lord,” he gasped, wiping his mouth with his hand. “That’s her? I really saw... Renegades’ Lady?”
Ultor nodded slowly.
“Yes, that was Aranea,” he confirmed with a sigh. “Yes. She’s probably the only one with such wild eyes...” he broke off suddenly.
Not necessarily just her, the thought ran through Vesper’s mind.
That intern had very similar eyes, when she was falling down. Because of him, because he was the one who made that decision and sentenced her to death.
He shrugged the thought off immediately. He did what he had to, his assignment. He was supposed to protect Crumbly. And he did it as best as he could. He couldn’t worry so much about everyone around, or he’d go nuts. And he was on his way to it anyway.
They both turned at the sound of an opening door. Praetorians entered the hall, leading Umens, who carried Maria’s motionless body.
“He wanted to see you, my lord,” Celer said, nodding briefly at the nighter. “He came alone, without weapons...”
Ultor got up, and motioned invitingly with his hand.
“Come in,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he added, staring straight at the captain.
The man took a few steps toward him.
“I brought her, my lord,” he said in trembling voice. “I wanted to ask for her to lie here, with our guys. She didn’t wake up, so...” he broke off, and a few tears rolled down his face.
&nbs
p; Lord Ultor nodded, not saying anything. Umens put Maria on the floor, kneeled next to her, and stared at her with eyes insane from pain.
“I killed her,” he choked out. “You told me to wait, my lord. But I couldn’t wait, not anymore. I was so afraid she would die, like a human. And wouldn’t wake anymore. And I wanted for us to be finally together...” he broke off, and a sob tightened his throat.
“You would have waited,” Ultor said softly, kneeling next to him. “You loved her, you would have waited as long as it took. It wasn’t your fault you broke down. It was that contaminated blood’s fault. You drank it, and you weren’t yourself anymore, understand that.”
“Contaminated blood?” the other asked, not understanding. “Who, how?”
“We suspect it was Staszek,” the lord replied. “He’d wanted to be a nighter for a while. I believed that he just wasn’t suited for it. If the renegades promised to accept him into their ranks...” he broke off on a sigh. “We’ll find out soon, if we find him on the other side...” He shook his head and continued, “We’ll have no mercy. But you’re not guilty of anything,” he repeated strongly. “You weren’t yourself, you understand?”
“It doesn’t matter, my lord,” the captain said, shaking his head back and forth. “It just doesn’t matter. Maybe I wasn’t myself, think what you want. But maybe then I was myself the most, maybe this whole civilized, nice nighter cover is just an illusion. And I don’t want to be the way I’m supposed to be anymore. I don’t want myself anymore, you understand? After all, everything we do here is one big lie!” He raised his gaze and stared at Ultor. “Your lie, my lord. You know that well!” His eyes fired up with fury and desperation, his hand clenched into a fist.
Just like a well-trained dog, Celer reacted immediately to the danger appearing near his lord. He took out a military knife swiftly, and put the blade up to the nighter’s throat.
“No silly moves,” he warned him seriously.
“Thank you,” Umens whispered in relief.
And in a sudden move, he leaned forward.
The sharp blade entered the body like butter. It crunched at the spine momentarily, cutting through the spinal cord. It stopped then, pouring out a stream of blood.
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