Human Revolt 02 - Vampire LA

by Phil Tucker

  Louis paused his playing and glanced at her. Raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged, and resumed his intangible plucking. “If that fails to move you, I doubt an appeal to your ego shall have much effect. Mastery over others. Dominance as you become the apex predator. The ability to enjoy superiority over all humans, and with Sawiskera’s blood in your veins? Dominance over all vampires as well. Think on it: you need not be but another ghoul, stalking the night for mere blood. You have the chance of using Sawiskera’s might for your own ends. Resent the current fashions of the world? Stretch forth your hand, and you change them. Take control of the vampires around you, as Sawiskera once did, and mold them into whatever image you find most pleasing. Do you wish for true peace between vampires and humans? Demand it. Do you wish to execute the foulest of our kind? End their unlives. Dictate as you will, and the world will fall in line, listening to your wisdom and commands.”

  Again Louis looked up at her, but this time he didn’t smile. He played on, hands moving back and forth as they followed some unheard rhythm and melody. Selah watched his fingers. Playing an invisible harp, a song all of his own. He didn’t even share his music.

  She shook her head. It was tempting, a vision of herself enthroned in dark power, correcting the ills of the world with might. But it could never be that simple. “You paint a pretty picture,” she said at last, “but I don’t believe you. Why would you promise me something that would make you my slave?”

  Louis chuckled, a delighted sound. “You would need guidance, would you not? An advisor to help you navigate the treacherous waters of vampiric society. Alone, you could be mobbed. With my help, you could rise to the pinnacle of immortal power.”

  “You’d make me your tool,” said Selah.

  Louis had the grace to merely shrug. “We are all tools, in some fashion or another. Even the mightiest of our number is subject to their hunger for blood.”

  Selah watched him play, his movements becoming more extravagant as he reached an impassioned part of his performance. She thought of Mama B, her deep warm eyes, her loving hugs. Thought of her absent father. “No thank you. Not for me.”

  “You reject curiosity, immortality, and power. I admit you leave me with few arrows left in my quiver. Let me try another: what of morality? What if remaining a vampire were the lesser of two evils? What if the price you had to pay to become human once more was fouler than any deed you could imagine committing as a vampire?”

  Selah felt a pang of hope. “So you know of a cure. It’s possible.” Bright, hard hope, flaring like a spark in the depths of the greatest void, fiery and painful to even look at.

  “I might.” Louis slowed his strumming. “I do have a storied past, and have walked more than just this continent. While I am but a fledgling when compared to Sawiskera’s dark magnificence, I have seen much, learned much, and speculated further.” He dropped his hands heavily onto his knees and looked straight at her. “There are perhaps two others in Los Angeles who might also furnish you with the answer you seek, but you do not have the time to hunt them down. Thus, you are left with me as your sole purveyor of redemption. What, I wonder, would you be willing to do to learn how to cure yourself?”

  “What do you want? And—what was that you said before? About the cure being worse than being a vampire?”

  Louis’ face took on a neutral cast, and in doing so became inanimate, as smooth and perfect and lifeless as a stone mask. Only his eyes burned with fierce intelligence and an alien hunger. “There is a price, though I shall not reveal the cure until you have done me a service. Then, upon completion of that favor, I shall tell you all. You may at that point decide if you wish to proceed; at that juncture, it shall not be my concern.”

  “Of course. You want a favor. Because I have Sawiskera’s power? Is it something you can’t do?” Her impatience was all consuming. Whatever it was, she would do it.

  “I do have a favor to ask, but I shall put it to you tomorrow night. I must ponder the situation further before playing you as a piece on my board.” Louis smiled once more, revealing his milky white incisors. “Don’t fret. You still have a few more nights before your change is irrevocable.”

  Selah inhaled deeply, and nodded. “All right. Fine. I’ll meet you here. Tomorrow night?”

  “Please do.” Louis turned to regard the room. Selah followed his gaze, and saw that two vampire women were whispering to Cloud where he stood, trailing their fingers along his arms, across his shoulders. Even as Selah watched, one reached out to ghost the back of one finger across his cheek. Cloud lashed out with a sudden curse, flinging a tight right hook at her head from which she swayed away with ease, her laughter a metallic titter as he stumbled back away from her.

  “Is this room not a delight? If I but narrow my eyes, I am transported back three centuries to Paris. In every detail but its occupants, I feel myself home once more.” Louis sighed, doing so for effect, Selah knew. “Alas, the allure already palls. One cannot step into the same river twice. Soon we shall move on to different grounds. But for now, and a few nights more, this chamber still delights. Return tomorrow, and we shall resume our conversation.”

  “Fine,” said Selah. “Excuse me.” She strode across the room. One of the vampires taunting Cloud was a tall, stunning black woman, her skin the color of the ocean at night, her bearing regal, her hair done up in a fair imitation of a seventeenth-century wig. The other was a voluptuous Latina, her figure full and rounded in a style that would be considered too curvaceous today, but she held herself with such poise and confidence that she was as striking and beautiful as her companion.

  “Enough,” said Selah, clamping her hand around the Latina’s wrist as she went to touch Cloud once more. The tall black woman took a step back, eyes closing to slits, but Selah ignored her, instead exerting pressure on the Latina’s wrist until she felt the bones grind under her fingers. The Latina’s smile never wavered, but her eyes flared with fury as she fought impotently to pull free. Selah held her for a beat long, making her point clear, and then flung her hand away. “Get out of here.”

  “So possessive,” said the first vampire. “You must learn to share your toys.”

  Selah growled, surprising even herself with the ferocity of the sound. It was inhuman, a feral sound that felt as if broken glass were being gargled within the depths of her throat. Both vampires stepped back, the Latina curtseying. They laughed and turned away together, fading toward the back of the room.

  Selah looked up into Cloud’s face. He was staring after the two women, nostrils flared, jaw clenched. “Cloud,” she whispered, taking his hand. He looked down jerkily at her, pupils dilated, forehead covered with a thin sheen of sweat. She could smell his fear, sense it on the tip of her tongue. “Cloud, it’s OK. I’m here. Louis said he knows of a cure. He’s going to tell me tomorrow night. Everything is going to be all right.”

  Cloud nodded. “Good. I’ll come back with you. Bring, maybe, five hundred pounds of plastic explosives.”

  She snorted. Didn’t care if the vampires saw her do so, saw her drop the killer queen vampire act. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s get out of here,” she said quietly. Was she imagining things, or could she hear his heart pound?

  “Yes. Please.”

  They left Louis’ court and began to make their way through the various art galleries. Selah took hold of Cloud’s hand and he didn’t complain; together they walked through the moonlit rooms as Selah told him about her conversation with Louis. His many temptations, and his final warning and request for a favor. They reached the head of the stairway and paused, unsure where to go next. Somebody stood below them, looking up, and with a stab of displeasure, Selah realized it was Tybalt.

  “Get out of our way,” she said, making her voice flat and hard.

  “Is that how you speak to me now? Like a servant, an irritating hanger-on?” Two other men stepped forward from the shadows to stand behind him, their eyes liquid with hunger and arousal.

  Selah thought quickly. Three vampires
. If she dropped Tybalt quickly, the others might scatter. She could leap from where she stood, take them by surprise—footsteps. Wary, she half turned and saw the two vampire women walking through the gallery toward her and Cloud. Their smiles were gashes in their faces. Five.

  Cloud drew Hernan’s gun from the small of his back. Selah looked back to Tybalt, who had set his foot on the first step. “Louis will be angry,” she said. “He wants a favor from me.”

  “Louis has lived long and grown used to disappointment,” said Tybalt.

  “Selah?” Cloud’s voice was taut and quiet. He was holding the gun with both hands, straight-armed, pointed at the ground.

  “What do you want, Tybalt? An apology?”

  Tybalt flowed up the steps toward her, the other two right behind. Selah and Cloud backed away and then retreated into the depths of the room, away from the steps and the hallway. The five vampires joined ranks and shoulder to shoulder stood before them, their smiles those of a child about to torment a small animal.

  “An apology? Of sorts. I shall feel much better once I have put you in your place. And think of the notoriety I will achieve for killing the one who slew Sawiskera.”

  The tall, black vampire smiled sweetly at Selah. “You won’t mind if we play with your friend once you’re gone? We’ll take very good care of him. Promise.”

  Cloud raised his gun and took aim at her head. She widened her eyes in mock dismay, and then spread her arms as if to welcome the bullet. The Latina stepped out to the side, and began to sidle forward along the wall, causing Cloud to turn the gun on her. She stopped and covered her mouth with her hand, as if caught at some indiscretion.

  Selah rose to the balls of her feet, and then lowered back down. Energy like liquid fire ran through her veins. She felt as if she could take on six, twelve, a hundred such as Tybalt. Indestructible. Undefeatable. She was a storm that would sweep them aside, a whirlwind that would snatch them up and break their bones like twigs. Still. Five against one. No matter how anointed she felt, she knew the odds were too great. If it was just her alone, she could perhaps break free. But what of Cloud? She couldn’t fight and protect him at the same time. Should she cry out for Louis? The very thought appalled her.

  A sixth figure appeared behind the vampires. Selah blinked. One moment there were five, then suddenly there were six. The new comer stood with his hands linked behind his back, head bowed pensively. As one, the vampires sensed his presence and turned. Recognition thrilled her as he raised his face and looked past them and directly at her. His shaved head, his ebon skin, his black liquid eyes over cheekbones marred by two smeared scars. The liquid grace and power within his frame, the authority and command. Theo.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tybalt hissed, instantly furious. He drew back as Theo moved forward, the other vampires doing the same, opening a path for him to walk through. Theo never even glanced at them; it was as if they didn’t exist. Hands linked behind his back, he stepped forward. Tybalt looked to the others in desperation. The two women were already shrinking back toward the hall. Theo’s complete indifference to their presence was palpable. He came to a stop three yards from Selah, his back exposed to the vampires behind him.

  There could be no doubt as to the Dragon’s confidence and instant mastery of the moment. Tybalt straightened, his expression smoothed away to neutral indifference, and without a word he turned and descended the steps, his two friends following in silence. The female vampires drifted out of sight down the hall back to Louis’ court, and like that the threat was gone.

  Theo. Selah realized that she had raised her fingers to her mouth, and lowered her hand. Her protector in Miami who had saved her life only because she reminded him so powerfully of his mortal wife. The last time she’d seen him was shortly after they’d slain Sawiskera, in the parking lot beneath the vampire king’s home. Why was he here?

  “Oh,” said Selah. She blinked, felt pieces slide into place. Felt a moment of dizziness as suddenly everything made sense. “Arachne,” she said, looking up into Theo’s haunted eyes. “She’s your wife.”

  Theo nodded. “Yes.” His voice was just as she remembered it, quiet and rich.

  Cloud started, “Wait, what? Oh. Oh!”

  Selah was still holding Cloud’s hand, but she felt as if she were falling into Theo’s eyes. “And she’s the leader of one of the vampire gangs here.”

  “Yes,” said Theo again, voice grim. “The largest.”

  The three of them stood in silence, each absorbed with their thoughts, and then Theo half turned toward the stairs. “Come, let’s get out of here. Find someplace safe to talk.”

  “Someplace safe?” asked Cloud, slipping the gun back behind his belt. “Here in the Core? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  Theo’s smile was a subtle thing. “I might be able to surprise you.” He turned and led them down to the ground floor, through the marble hallways and galleries until they stepped out into the night air, down some steps and onto a path.

  Cloud rubbed at his face with one hand. “When did you get here?”

  Theo walked slightly ahead of them and to one side, so that from where Selah followed she could see the profile of his face. The moon had sailed free and high overhead so that the grounds were limned in silver. Grass grew thick and wild on all sides of the path, weeds and flowers blossoming where no doubt they’d been banished before the War. The air was rich with the smell of some night blossom, sweet and delicate. Selah inhaled deeply, relishing the clean tang of it. No smell of burning rubber here.

  “Just last night. I came as soon as I located her. Sethe. Arachne.” An undercurrent of bitterness ran through his words.

  “Arachne. I know that name. Wasn’t she that spider lady from Greek mythology?” Cloud fought a sudden and violent yawn and looked to Selah for confirmation, but she shrugged. She’d not paid attention in class.

  “Yes,” said Theo. They walked slowly along the path toward a line of trees. “The legend has it that she was skilled at weaving like no other, and in her pride boasted that her tapestries were more beautiful than even Athena’s. So there was a competition between the two, and she won. Athena destroyed her tapestry and turned her into a spider in anger. It’s a creation myth.”

  “No kidding,” said Selah. She turned the tale over in her mind. “Sawiskera styled himself a god, right? A Native American one? And he turned Sethe into a vampire.” She shook her head. “Do you think her taking that name means she’s admitting to some kind of arrogance from when she was human?”

  Theo shrugged. “Perhaps. Though the Sethe I knew was a good woman. Not arrogant.”

  Selah tried to imagine how it must feel to learn that your true love was still alive, two hundred years after you thought she had died. She couldn’t begin to imagine.

  “Have you reached out to her? She know you’re here?” Cloud seemed to be coming back to himself, his voice calming down, relaxing.

  “No. She doesn’t. I’ve been learning about her first. It has been… a long time since I saw her last. Just as I’ve changed, so I imagine has she.” He walked a few steps, and said, voice low, “And from what I hear, the change has not been … positive.”

  They reached the trees and passed beneath their branches, crossing a narrow road before cresting the edge of a bowl-shaped hollow. Below them ran a small confluence of streams, over which arched a stylized crescent bridge. In the light of the moon it was magical, a perfect semicircle that seemed as delicate and incongruous as a spiderweb glimpsed mere moments before you walk into it. Selah stopped and took in the small garden contained within the bowl. A beautiful willow tree grew by the bridge. On the far side of the bowl rose a Japanese-styled house, dark eaves spreading out over the simple façade.

  Theo moved down a flight of steps toward the streams, and Cloud and Selah followed. It was perfectly still and silent here but for the trickling of a small waterfall. The air was rich with the smell of jasmine and night flowers, and Selah felt as if she were descending int
o a focal point of tranquility, an otherworldly place of serenity.

  Theo followed the path to a second bridge that ran straight over one of the streams, and crossed to its halfway point where he paused and looked meditatively down into the black water. Cloud moved to sit on a bench set close to the bridge’s base, but Selah followed Theo and stood by his side, gazing down as well. It wasn’t merely a confluence of streams, she realized, but rather a muddled central pond into which the smaller lines flowed, minute islands separating the water into beautiful sections. Lilies floated beneath their feet, and the water was disturbed by large shadows just beneath the surface, fish whose scales caught the moonlight and cast back glimmers of silver and dusky rose.

  “We didn’t interrupt Sawiskera’s ritual in time,” said Theo, hands linked behind his back.

  “No,” said Selah. She heard Cloud yawn again, and watched as he lay down on the bench, casting his arm over his eyes. He hadn’t slept in two days, she realized. He’d driven all day yesterday, through last night, and today had been a riot of dangerous close calls. He had to be exhausted. So should she, but she felt awake, alive, filled with energy. As fresh and alert as if she had just awoken from a perfect night’s sleep. “What are you going to do about Sethe?”