by Phil Tucker
Selah stood, frozen, and peered down into the darkness that was the lake, at the Humvees that were already spreading out, headlights now complimented by great flashlights that probed the shadows as the soldiers searched futilely for her.
Selah fought for control of her breath, and slowly straightened. Her mind was blank. She had done it. She would be cured now. Louis would tell her what she had to do to be human once more. The vaccine would be made. The course of the war would change. Selah raised her right hand. Her fingers were slick with fresh blood and gleamed wetly in the light of the moon. She should feel elated, she thought. She should be feeling horrified. She looked at the blood and realized that she felt nothing.
Chapter Fourteen
Selah parked the SUV before the Huntington Gallery. She had driven back recklessly fast, barely focusing on the road as she did so. No music this time, just the aching silence of her heart as it seemed to tumble away into the void. She drove with one hand on the wheel, her reflexes so sharp that it took little effort to navigate the turns and curves of the road at speeds that remained generally in excess of a hundred miles an hour. She made it back to the Gardens in almost half the time it took her to leave. She leaped out of the car, slammed the door hard behind her, only to stop, cock her head to one side, and listen.
Silence. Not that it had been bustling with sound and activity before, but looking up at the dark windows, hearing nothing other than the insects of the night, she was struck by a certainty: the vampires had moved on. There were no other cars parked along the circular driveway. The entrance was dark, the door half closed. No. He wouldn’t dare. Did he think he could hide from her, now, after what she had done?
Selah marched into the building, picking up speed so that by the time she hit the staircase she was flying, feet only touching the steps twice before she reached the landing. She blurred through the galleries and hit the door to the French living room with so much force that it slammed against the wall and tore itself free of its top hinge.
Louis sat alone in a chaise longue that he’d dragged into the center of the room. He had positioned his chair so that he lay in a pool of star and moonlight. His legs were stretched toward her, crossed at the ankles, and his caramel hair looked metallic in the moonlight. His face was pale, deathly white, ghoulish, and with his eyes closed he looked like nothing more than a corpse.
“Louis. I’ve done it. He’s dead.”
His eyes flicked open. One moment they were closed, the next he was staring at her. “I know, cherie. I have seen the photographs. Well done.”
“Photographs?” Selah stepped into the room.
“Oh, yes. That little reporter, she followed my instructions most carefully. I received both photographs and video recordings as your dirty little deed took place. Very forceful, very direct. One blow, across the neck, like a cat!” Louis mimicked her strike, lips pulling back from his fangs, and then fell back, relaxing with a laugh.
“Why? Why did you want photographs?”
His smile became enigmatic. “Perhaps I needed evidence that you did what you set out to do.”
Selah studied him. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug and self-satisfied smile off his face. “What do I have to do to become human?”
Louis looked at his nails. “It is not so big a thing. Tell me, Selah Brown. Are you loved?”
“Loved?”
“Loved. Does another love you?” Louis raised his eyes and met her confused stare directly. “For your sake, I hope one does, else this will not work.”
“I—yes. I am loved. Why?”
“To regain your humanity, you must eat the heart of one who loves you. Sawiskera used your love to try and steal your humanity; now you must take that love back.”
Selah felt her face contort in disgust. Nausea flooded her stomach, and the world seemed suddenly distant. “No. That can’t be true. No.”
“But yes, cherie, it is. You must pluck the heart from the breast of one who loves you more than life.” Louis pantomimed doing so, and held an invisible heart to his face as if it were an apple. “Then—you bite!” He did so, clamping his fangs down on air, wrenching his head back as if tearing at thick muscle. “Eat! Consume! A feast to satisfy the devil, to banish the curse of Sawiskera.” He laughed and rubbed the imaginary heart all over his face before throwing his arms open, mouth wide, tongue hanging obscenely long and loose over his chin.
“No.” Selah shook her head. “No. You’re lying. You are just trying to make me do something—something—” There was no word for it.
Louis shrugged. “I tried to warn you, when you first asked.” He paused, and considered. “True, I didn’t try very hard, but what can I say? I tell you true, Selah Brown, believe me. Consume the heart of one who loves you, or become a vampire in—what? Two more nights now? One?”
Selah took a step back. The room was spinning. She felt weak. It couldn’t be.
“Oh, incidentally,” Louis assumed a professional tone, “I mentioned the cure to your friend. Cloud? Told him all about it. He was very upset. He ran away before I could assure him that you would never, never—” It was too much. Selah lost control and threw herself at him, so that he stopped speaking and with a delighted laugh moved up and behind the chair. Laughing still, he ducked her first blow, and then sidestepped her second.
Fury filled her, a torrent of flame. She seized the chaise longue and swung it, leaning back and pulling from the hips, swung it right around as hard as she could and launched it at the suddenly wide-eyed Louis. He sprang up, tried to leap out of the way, but he moved too late. The chaise longue caught him right across the lower body and sent him tumbling to the ground, crashing shoulder first into the parquet floor.
Selah fell upon him before he could react, pressing her knee into the small of his back and grabbing a fistful of his hair. She reared back and then slammed his face down as hard as she could into the floor. His face shattered the small boards. She pulled back his head again and drove it down with her whole body. Twice, three times, a fourth and fifth. He was scrabbling to push himself up, to get out from under her, but she was fury incarnate, her terror and revulsion lending strength to Sawiskera’s curse that not even Louis could deny. Quicker than one could blink, Selah smashed Louis face down ten times, each subsequent blow sounding wetter and softer as the architecture of his face collapsed.
With a scream she leaped off him and kicked him as hard as she could in the ribs. Bones snapped, and he slid away from her, curled around his stomach, face a dark and mangled mess. Hissing, he placed one hand on the floor and began to push himself up. Selah took a long step forward and kicked him right under the chin, snapping his head back, nearly breaking his neck and sending him sprawling to the ground once more.
She screamed again, a vicious, killing sound, the cry an eagle might make as it plunges down, talons outstretched to end a life. Denial, fury, hatred—all of those and more were in her cry, and she seized Louis by the neck and belt and hurled him right out the window.
The glass shattered and his flailing body fell from view. Panting, sobbing, Selah stood swaying, arms slowly lowering back to her side. She looked around, wanting something more to destroy, another mocking face to break. Nothing. Darkness, shadows, silence. She thought of Louis’ words. Eat the heart of someone who loves you. She couldn’t. She could never. Which meant she was doomed. She was going to become a vampire. In a night or two, she would die, and continue on as a monster. Selah threw her head back and screamed once more, the sound so raw and filled with grief that she felt as if her throat would tear.
Exhausted, she collapsed to the ground, and sobbing and hiccupping for breath, shaking her head, eyes closed. No. It wasn’t supposed to work this way. She was supposed to find a cure. She was supposed to become human again, and then work with Cloud to save the world and create a vaccine. To fight the vampires, not become one of them. No. It couldn’t be. Selah pressed her forehead against her forearm and shook it back and forth, the tears coming thick a
nd bitter now, as all her dreams were torn asunder.
Eventually her sobs quieted and she simply looked blankly at the parquet floor. Lay still, breathing gently, and then a name came to her, simple yet searing: Cloud.
Selah rose to her feet and rushed from the room. Down the halls, through the galleries, and leaped the entirety of the stairs to land smoothly on the ground floor and sprint like the wind out of the building and along the path that led west to the Japanese garden. She burst out through the line of trees, and saw once more the arching bridge, the streams and small ponds, the serenity of the great Japanese-styled house looming above it all. Raced down, over the straight bridge, and up the slope and steps to rush through the front door and turn into the room where they’d slept.
Nothing. Selah froze, scanning the bed, the ground. Only her belongings. His were gone. His pack, his clothing, his shoes. Gone. No. She rushed forward and fell to her knees by the bed, reaching out to touch the mattress. Cold. She ducked down and looked under the bed, then rose and ran out of the room, crying his name. Ran through the whole house, checking every room, calling for him over and over again, until she returned and collapsed on their bed.
He’d left. Which meant he didn’t trust her. Which meant he actually thought she might kill him. Kill him for his heart. How could he? How could he think such a thing? Had she changed so much that he truly thought her capable of murdering him? Selah clasped her hands to her face. The world was collapsing about her. She felt as if her heart were breaking, her chest cracking in two, white-hot pain burning her mind, her body, her soul.
No tears. There weren’t any left. She was frozen, paralyzed by the horror, the realization of what had come to pass. She was alone. The man she loved had left her, driven away, fearing for his own life. She was alone, abandoned, and despite all she’d done, despite how hard she’d fought, the sacrifices she’d made, there was no way forward. She was doomed. She was going to become a vampire, and there was nothing she could do to avert her fate.
The night passed. At times Selah slept, drifting in and out of lucidity. Dreams plagued her, but they were better than her waking thoughts. She felt as if she was running a fever, shivering and strange, but she didn’t sweat. Her mouth was parched, her throat raw and tight, but she couldn’t muster the energy to rise, to find water. Slowly the hours wheeled past, and through the window she could see the moon making its stately progress across the night sky.
The sound of footsteps pulled Selah from her despair. They were almost inaudible, the faintest of sounds, as if a ghost were approaching. No, two ghosts, their footsteps almost indistinguishable from that of the garden, the waterfall below, the wind through the trees. But Sawiskera’s curse was strong in her now, and her predatory instincts flared.
Should she rise and confront the intruders? Why bother? What was there to live for? So she lay still, half covered by the sheet, and stared at the ceiling and listened. The two people stopped at the front door, and then stepped into the hall and into her doorway. Selah studied them. A slight Asian man, middle-aged and round-shouldered, his black eyes total and studying her and the room. By his side a lanky white teenager, her hair also white and done in a topknot, face long and sallow, eyes equally black. Both of them examined her.
“Come with us,” said the Asian vampire. His voice was quiet and commanding.
“Why should I?”
“Arachne wants you,” said the girl. Her voice was surprisingly deep.
“So?”
“What Arachne wants, she gets,” continued the girl. “Don’t make us force you.”
“You couldn’t,” said Selah, looking back up at the ceiling. “I’ll kill you if you try.”
They seemed uncertain. Perhaps they hadn’t expected her to be so calm, so confident. After a moment’s deliberation, they stepped into the room. The Asian vampire fanned out to the left, keeping his back to the wall, and then prepared to leap. Selah searched for some trace of fear within her. Some speck of anger. Nothing. It was as if the bonfire of emotion she’d felt before had left nothing but guttered ashes in her breast.
Without signal, they both attacked. They were fast, but in comparison to Louis they were like children. The two surged forward, moving to grapple her in the small room, pin her to the bed, but Selah didn’t wait. She flipped herself onto both feet and exploded into the Asian man, grabbing his coat by the lapels and drive him back, the force of her leap lifting him off the ground so that he hit the far wall squarely with his back. They crashed through the wooden wall into the room beyond, where Selah tumbled off him, her hand snatching up a jagged spar of wood and driving it down into the vampire’s chest, impaling him through the heart.
He didn’t even make a sound. His hands clutched at the stake, and he fell limply to the ground. Selah rose to her feet. The teenager—though god knew how old she really was—had leaped onto the empty bed, and was only now turning to stare at Selah, eyes startled and wide. Selah grinned at her, almost wishing for fangs of her own. “I warned you.” She smacked her palms together, dusting them off, and began to walk back into the room.
The pale girl stepped off the bed, desperately searching for a weapon. Selah laughed, and then cut the sound abruptly as the girl rushed her. They lashed at each other with elbows, knees, and head butts, a flurry that was exchanged so quickly that Selah operated on instinct, moving as if in a dance. But Selah’s blows were twice as strong as the girl’s. She shattered the girl’s left elbow with her right, and then broke her knee by stomping her heel into the inside of her leg. The girl collapsed, and Selah spun around, whiplashing the back of her fist across the girl’s face, smacking her to the ground. Before she could get up, Selah dragged her over to the broken wall, lifted her, and slammed her down on a broken board, the wooden plank shattering further beneath the girl’s weight before impaling her.
Selah stepped back. She blew out a blast of air and wiped her hands on her hips. There was no elation. No thrill. She studied at the two where they lay. Perhaps Cloud had been right to flee. Look at how easily she killed. No, a part of her whispered. Mama B’s voice, distant, but there. No, he was wrong.
Selah looked out the window. She couldn’t stay here. No wonder Louis had ordered his gang to quit the grounds. How large had that kid said Arachne’s gang had been? Forty? Fifty? Selah had to get moving. She picked up her pack, shoved her things into it. Swung it over her shoulder, stepped out into the hall and went outside.
Selah raised her face to the night sky. Felt the light of the moon, and breathed in deep. Where was she going, and why? What was there left to fight for? Just more bloody battles until they dragged her down and back to Arachne, or until a couple of nights passed and she became a vampire. For a moment she hung in the balance, and then she resumed walking. Whatever was coming, she would meet it head on. Enough with waiting and grief.
Selah traversed the Japanese garden and made her way back to the gallery. The SUV’s keys were still in her pocket. She slowed down as she saw the activity going on around the grand building. The lights were back on, and figures moved past the windows within. No doubt the two she’d just staked had been sent out to scope the western part of the gardens. There were many more in the building, and who knew who might be lurking in the shadows around her.
A decision, then. Fade away like a shadow and walk out of the Gardens on foot, or go for the SUV. The smart thing to do was to walk away quickly and quietly. But she liked the SUV. She didn’t want to walk. She wanted to drive, as fast as she could get the car to go, blasting music. And more. She simply wasn’t afraid. If she was to bear this curse, then those who got in her way would suffer the consequences.
Chapter Fifteen
Selah walked forward. She could hear thin, distant voices on the wind. A handful of figures stood on the back porch, looking out over the sloping lawn. Selah struck across the grass toward the front where her SUV was parked. Two other vampires stood in the circular driveway, one seated in a white BMW, arguing with the second that stood wit
hin her open door. Selah ignored them and walked toward her car.
They didn’t notice her until she unlocked the doors with her key fob. The headlights blinked and both vampires turned, the seated woman rising to her feet. Selah raised her hand as if saying hi as she passed, and kept walking.
“Wait—are you kidding me? That’s her!” The man was strikingly attractive, his skin jet black in the night, hair cut close to the scalp. His accent was strange—Southern, perhaps—but he didn’t sound too bright. The woman shoved him aside so she could step free of the car. Selah focused on reaching the SUV driver’s door and ignored them both. At the last moment she sensed somebody dropping toward her. She swayed to one side, and the woman fell through where she had been and landed on the red tiles, her silent attack broken by her scalding hiss of frustration.
Selah didn’t hesitate. She reached out, palmed the side of the woman’s head and slammed it into the SUV. The door crumpled under the blow, and Selah released her, stepping aside as the dazed vampire fell to the ground. She pulled open the driver’s door, and climbed in.
On some dim level, she realized that she was moving impossibly fast. Faster, even, than the vampires could handle. Could track. Louis was right. She was coming into Sawiskera’s curse. One night left, maybe two. She turned on the car and immediately the windshield lit up with the navigator. Reaching down to the cradled Omni, she turned it off and eased out from behind the Porsche ahead of her. She scraped her headlight against its bumper, shunting the smaller car forward to the sound of breaking glass, and then flinched as gunfire erupted.
The entire right flank of the SUV shuddered as somebody unloaded a machine gun into it. Selah slammed on the gas and the SUV bucked forward, red warning lights flashing on the windscreen telling her the two right side tires had been punctured but were already filling with emergency air. Selah sawed the SUV off the drive. Bumping and jouncing, she drove through the bushes and between the trees ahead, then turned hard to the left and accelerated over the grass and back onto the road.