The praetorian screamed and jumped to the side, jerking the knife out. Umens’ body fell motionlessly forward. The head, not quite severed yet, swung to the side.
“Finish him,” the Lord said through paled lips, standing up. “Now.”
Celer leaned down obediently. He cut off the captain’s head with shaking hands, and threw it at the feet. He stood up, staring frightened at Ultor, who wiped the blood off his face in a slow motion.
“My lord, I...” he mumbled in shock. “I just... I...”
“Yes, I know,” The Lord Warrior said in a numb voice. “I know.”
He glanced down at the bodies prostrated in front of him. But he didn’t say a word.
He finally glanced at Vesper, sitting motionless, cowered on the couch.
“Go get some sleep, nighter,” he said slowly. “You are no use here, you’re still too weak. We’ll clean up ourselves.” He motioned with his head at one of the praetorians. “Acies, help him get to his room.”
Acies walked up to his colleague, and extended a helping hand to him. Vesper grabbed it and pulled himself up with great effort.
“Yes, my lord,” he said obediently, trying not to look at the bodies stretched on the floor in a pool of red. “I’ll go sleep now. Yes, sir.”
Ultor nodded silently.
Vesper leaned on Acies, pattering to the door with him. He forced himself to control his lips from trembling and tears from making their way to his eyes. He felt weak, tired, and exhausted like never before. He was so done with all of this... this constantly reoccurring pain, constant hunger, and blood everywhere.
But he wouldn’t cry in front of the lord and his praetorians.
Maybe in his room.
But definitely not here.
Take a little walk to the edge of town
Go across the tracks
Where the viaduct looms,
like a bird of doom
As it shifts and cracks
Where secrets lie in the border fires,
in the humming wires
Hey man, you know
you’re never coming back
Past the squares, past the bridge,
past the mills, past the stacks
On a gathering storm comes
a tall handsome man
In a dusty black coat with
a red right hand
He’ll wrap you in his arms,
tell you that you’ve been a good boy
He’ll rekindle all those dreams
it took you a lifetime to destroy
He’ll reach deep into the hole,
heal your shrinking soul
But there won’t be
a single thing that you could do
He’s a ghost, he’s a god,
he’s a man, he’s a guru
They’re whispering his name
across the disappearing land
But hidden in his coat
is a red right hand
Your aunt got no money? He’ll get you some
You ain’t got no car? He’ll get you one
You ain’t got no self-respect,
you feel like an insect
Well don’t you worry buddy,
cause here he comes
Through the ghetto and the barrio
and the bowery and the slum
A shadow is cast wherever he stands
Stacks of green paper in his
red right hand
You’ll see him in your nightmares
you’ll see him in your Dreams
He’ll appear out of nowhere
but he ain’t what he seems
You’ll see him in your head,
on the TV screen
And hey buddy,
I’m warning you to turn it off
He’s a ghost, he’s a god,
he’s a man, he’s a guru
You’re one microscopic cog
in his catastrophic plan
Designed and directed
by his red right hand
Nick Cave, “Red Right Hand”
The Capitol
Karina stood at the table in the Moonwalker bar. She stared at Vesper, furrowed her brow, and leaned her head to the side.
“I remember you from somewhere...” she thought hard. “I do.”
He smiled shyly. Yeah, he was stupid expecting the girl to remember a fling from... Wait, how much time had gone by? A month? Two? Maybe even three. And he had kept working, didn’t even drop by, didn’t even call once... So no wonder he’d been forgotten. He cleared his throat to hide his fluster.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, forcing himself to speak in a relaxed tome. “Either way, Nidor says hi.” She brightened up instantly.
“Oh, Nidor!” she said, and her eyes lit up. “Say hi to him from me, and from all the Moonwalker girls. He used to come here more often...” She smiled fleetingly at some memory. “But he hasn’t been by for a long time, we thought he forgot all about us.”
“He was wounded,” Vesper explained briefly. “He was in recovery. A long and nasty one.”
She twisted her hands in an empathic gesture. “But everything’s fine with him, right?” she asked worriedly, and then added, “What kind of a wound was it?”
“Don’t worry,” he laughed in answer. “The most important thing was spared.”
She brightened up a little, but her expression was still worried.
“Tell him to drop by sometime,” she asked. “We know here how hard their service is...” she broke off suddenly, glancing at him uneasily, unsure if she didn’t say too much.
“Sure,” he nodded reassuringly. “I’ll tell him your every word.”
She doesn’t even remember that I’m a nighter too, he sighed internally, regretfully. Well, Mr. Bond, your superhero career was weak. So far, you work your ass off from dusk to dawn, and chicks don’t even remember you exist. That’s not how it was supposed to be, definitely not.
He looked toward the opposite side of the room, communicated with Fulgur through their eyes. The place was clear, no dudes stoned with illegal blood. Good, we’re going to the next one.
He stood up, and dropped a few coins that rolled noisily across the table. He looked at Karina, who smiled at him politely.
“Right then,” he said. “Take care, Moonwalker girls. We’ll drop in on you sometime.”
She nodded, and suddenly her eyes widened in understanding. Apparently she’d recognized him.
“Oh, riiight...” she said. “I remember you. You’re that new nighter.” She laughed differently this time, charmingly, seductively. “Right... I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Work,” he said loosely. “You understand.”
“Drop in sometime,” she repeated the invitation, kissing his cheek. “Definitely do.”
Fulgur was standing at the door, staring pointedly at his watch. He said mentally to Vesper, If you keep screwing around man, we’ll finish this patrol at noon at the earliest.
Vesper sighed shortly. That’s it as far as having a personal life. It’s been proven impossible.
“We will. For sure.” He hugged Karina briefly, let go of her, and walked to the door.
He wasn’t really sure if he planned to keep that promise. Sure, she wasn’t ugly, and she was entertaining, like a good Viner. But something didn’t seem right to him. This wasn’t what he was looking for.
Maybe because she forgot him so easily? Or maybe because she had such happy, smiling eyes, quite pretty ones. But he would prefer there was some mystery in them, some element like fire or storm...
Either way, this wasn’t it. Totally not.
***
Despite Fulgur’s dark predictions, they managed to return to the base at seven in the morning. They reported briefly to Alacer. Temporary silence and peace in the city. No stoned vampires. No fighting. The captain nodded pleased, then sent them to get some sleep.
Vesper was quite tired, but he decided not to avoid his citizen’s duty any longer. He knocke
d at the door to one of the guest apartments, where Crumbly stayed.
The man shook his head, seeing him up so early, and wearing jeans and a sweater on top of that. He was still in pajamas, and was just about to start his shaving ritual. Luckily for Vesper, he hadn’t raised the blinds yet, so a bearable glow was only just starting to fill the room.
“You’re walking already?” Crumbly asked, surprised. “A week ago you were down like a log, and you’re on your feet today?” he shook his head. “There’s a lot of weird stuff going on here, too much for my simple cop brain. My woman is going crazy, asking all my colleagues where I am, and why I’m not coming home like God ordered. And I don’t even know what to say. They’ve forbidden me from call her. Maybe you’ll explain it to her, huh? Otherwise she’ll throw a fit. I’ll have World War II at home for a month, for sure.” He sighed and waved him in invitingly. “Come in, have a seat.”
They both sat on chairs at the table. Vesper glanced at the glass of orange juice standing there. He grimaced and reached for his hip flask.
“Can I?” He asked. “Will it bother you?”
“I’ll throw up right away,” the other stated categorically. “Don’t even try. Not in front of me, okay?”
The nighter sighed, and put his hands on his knees. He drummed them impatiently.
“Too bad,” he sighed. “The lord says I need to eat a lot right now, so I heal as soon as possible. But since it bothers you...”
“Just tell me what’s going on here,” the cop interrupted him anxiously. “Because your friends didn’t let a peep out, they just said it would be best if you explained everything to me. And you graciously disappeared for a week somewhere. I thought you were in the hospital after that sniper took you down... the vest was that good?” he broke off, and looked at Vesper carefully. “Whatever, I’m listening. Where am I, in a nut house?”
“Human cells have a predetermined division number,” Vesper said. “At least a good portion of them. The fibroblasts, for example, divide fifty times and that’s it. They die.”
Crumbly stared at him, a question in his eyes. He obviously didn’t see the connection, but so far, he hadn’t interrupted.
“Sometimes it happens that the cell goes haywire and begins to divide abnormally. It becomes immortal,” Vesper continued dispassionately. “But when it loses that discipline, it loses intelligence too. It forgets what it’s supposed to do, it acts off. It becomes a cancer cell and divides without care.”
The policeman nodded, then shook his head. Which meant that he understood, yes, but still didn’t see the connection. The nighter smiled lightly.
“There is a symbiont,” he said. “A microorganism, or even just a particle, like a virus or a prion. Hard to tell if it’s alive or not. It doesn’t drink, eat, doesn’t multiply on its own. But when it gets to your system, it permeates all cells. It hooks up to their DNA, modifies metabolic paths. And teaches them how to live.”
The human sighed heavily, with resignation. It looked like he wasn’t going to get a sensible answer to his question.
“We suspect that as far as regeneration goes, the symbiont breaks that barrier; it allows the cell to divide beyond the set number of times, but at the same time it holds up its self-discipline, it doesn’t allow it to become cancerous. And it teaches it new things. That’s all.” Vesper broke off as if he considered the topic to be exhausted.
“What do you mean that’s all?” Crumbly was ticked off. “Give it to me straight! You gave me some lecture about cells and that’s all? I’m a simple cop, you have to give it to me blue-collar style!”
Nighter reached to his sweatshirt’s pocket where he kept his hip flask, but put his hand down with a small sigh once he caught cop’s eyes.
“I’m gonna barf,” Crumbly warned him seriously.
“All right now, all right,” Vesper growled. “So what else do you want to know? How exactly the symbiont affects cell physiology? We don’t know, nobody knows. Yes, our labs are working on it, but there isn’t enough data so far. It’s not that simple. Regular human cell cytophysiology isn’t quite fully known yet, so we can’t talk about that...”
“You think I’m asking you about some science bullshit?” the human snorted. “Describe to me how it looks in practice! How does it happen, step by step, that you are who you are, what am I supposed to expect from you and so on. Practical stuff, you understand?”
“Fine, I’ll tell you in a simpler way,” the nighter agreed. “First the lord choses you, checks if you’re good enough. Then he kills you.” He caught the man’s frightened gaze and nodded. “Yeah, just like that. Once he kills you, he gives you his blood with the symbiont. It’s best if you bleed out well before you die, then your immune system doesn’t fight it off as much. And we wait standard three days, so it all sits there and has time to work on transforming your body. Well, it doesn’t always work, but usually it does. Meanwhile there’s a quick funeral, those kinds of things. And then you get up and you wake up for the Night. As an exceptionally resistant and tough sonofabitch. As long as nobody damages your head or heart, or chops you into pieces, nearly everything will heal. You’re just sensitive to light, especially the UV spectrum. It burns like hell. So you prefer the night, since you can see everything... you have very good eyes after all.”
“So what... how?” Crumbly mumbled, shaken. “You walk at night, nearly immortal...” He pierced him with a frightened gaze suddenly. “And you drink blood?”
“Artificial blood,” Vesper tried to calm him down. “From a factory.”
“You’re a fucking vampire, is that what you’re trying to tell me?!” the appalled human yelled. “You all are! That’s why you live here by night, and everything is so dark... and you can fly, you don’t climb at all, now I understand!”
“The symbiont helps enhance human natural parapsychological abilities.” Vesper forced himself to stay calm, despite the evident unease of his conversation partner. “Including telekinesis and levitation. Depending who is gifted with what talent, and what he wants to work on, he will develop it best. But yes, we all have a certain basic set of abilities.”
The police officer picked up the orange juice glass and drank it slowly, as if trying to force himself to calm down that way. Suddenly, he put the glass away and stared at the nighter accusingly.
“And it’s that symbiont that tells you to drink blood?” he barked angrily. “And killed innocent people?”
Vesper sighed impatiently. Obviously Crumbly didn’t want to understand him, he just didn’t. He knew his stuff, and that’s all, and he didn’t plan to accept other points of view.
“I drink artificial blood,” he said through clenched teeth, forcing himself to be calm with the last of his strength. “And I never killed anyone innocent!”
“Give it up, man! That girl at the hospital fell out of the window because of you!” the A-T couldn’t keep it in. “I couldn’t understand how you could sacrifice her so easily.” He shook his head again, and then added with biting bitterness “But now I know. Because you’re not human! You didn’t give a damn what would happen to her, that’s all!”
Vesper pursed his lips as his anger grew rapidly. He regretted that intern, really. But he had made a decision, and he wasn’t going to cry over it before this smart-ass cop, who acted as if he knew best anyway. Ungrateful bastard.
He got up from the chair and leaned over Crumbly. His hands clenched into fists, and he felt the familiar itch in his gums.
“I was on the job!” he said rapidly. “I had a mission. To protect Piotr Jazwinski at all costs.” He took a deep breath. “End of discussion, period!”
The A-T jumped up, straightening as well. He moaned with pain, but pulled himself together instantly. He stared challengingly into Vesper’s face.
“Younger Aspirant Jazwinski is in charge of his own life right now!” he yelled angrily. “And if I decided it appropriate to sacrifice it at that particular moment, then it’s nobody’s business! It’s my decision, and mine
alone! Not anyone else’s, especially fucking vampires who play their game at innocents’ cost!”
Vesper felt his fangs come out of his gums, and his heart thudded rapidly. A shot of adrenaline prepared his body for an immediate attack. Widened eyes greedily pulled out each of opponent’s moves.
But it was Crumbly, a saving thought fleeted in. He’s only a human, he doesn’t have to understand everything... let it go, man. Just let it go.
He backed away, and unclenched his fists. He went back to the chair, and sat down, holding himself together with all his strength.
“There were also renegades there,” he said with effort. “For your information, they are the classic evil vampires from cheap horror films. The ones that attack and lap the blood from still warm veins. They would have taken you and turned to their side... I couldn’t let that happen.”
“So, am I supposed to understand that you’re the good vampire, right?” Crumbly said, “Right?” he repeated with pressure, staring at the fangs peeking from under his opponent’s lips.
Vesper was silent for a moment, fighting emotions tumbling within him. Anger was intertwined with shame, regret, what else? He couldn’t tell.
“No” he finally said quietly. “I’m just a little less bad.”
The cop sank in his chair. He rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands.
“At first, I thought you were from Five,” he said with resignation. “And then, that it was something else altogether, some secret government supermen or something. And you’re simply impersonating ISA. You’re not... legal!”
“I’m not impersonating anyone” Vesper said in tired voice. “I’m an ISA officer. I took an oath, like all the others. I just carry it out it in a slightly unconventional way.” He laughed a little bitterly.
The A-T looked up.
“Really?” he asked with a trace of hope in his voice.
“Really,” the nighter said with conviction. “And I fight renegades with all my strength.”
Crumbly hid his face in his hands again. A heavy, depressing silence fell. Vesper twined his fingers, getting ready for another effort. He had to tell him one more thing... he couldn’t put it off any longer.
“I know this won’t make you happy...” he stated, trying to slowly articulate each word. “But I have to tell you, so please forgive me.” He took a deep breath. “It could happen that you’ll meet your A-T colleagues. Henry, Martin, and Charlie. The ones that got so badly wounded at Polfa, remember?”
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