by Amy Cross
As I close the files and get ready to leave, I feel something brushing against my shoulder. I turn, but there's no sign of anyone. I've been alone down here all this time, but it definitely felt as if someone bumped into me. Figuring I must be getting a little spooked, I decide to call it quits for today. I doubt I'm going to find much more in the files, and instead I need to do some legwork. Until I can find out who this Patrick guy was and how he managed to stay hidden, I'm not going to get to the truth about Abby Hart. He's definitely the key. If I can understand Patrick, maybe I can understand Abby too. Finally, as I'm about to leave the room, I glance down and spot a couple of photos that have fallen from one of the files. Picking them up, I take a quick look, and my blood runs cold as I realize what I'm seeing.
It's a picture of a girl who was seen entering the hotel shortly before Shelley Spineri was murdered all those years ago. The image, from a security camera, is a little grainy, but there's no doubt about the face I'm looking at. She's younger, and there's a look of fear in her eyes, but it's definitely Abby Hart.
Abby Hart
"Hello?"
Standing in the doorway, I listen for any sign that there's someone here. It's been a couple of days since I was at the lab, and having phoned in sick for a while, I figure it's time to get back to work. Besides, if Absalom was right about the involvement of Strix vampires, we've got a hell of a problem. These things are addicted to blood, and they'll stop at nothing to get what they want. They've stayed in the shadow so far, but only because it suits them to operate that way; if things change and it suits them to come out into the open, we've got an even bigger problem.
"Katie?" I call out as I walk past the rows of dead bodies. For some reason, they've been rearranged so that their arms are reaching out to one another, and they're holding hands in a kind of grid formation. It's a little creepy, and I'm starting to wonder what the hell has been going on in this place while I was away. Damn it, I gave Katie strict instructions to just keep her hands off the bodies and work by instinct alone. This is why I never want to have an assistant. They cause trouble, and they get in the way.
"Hey," Katie says suddenly, stepping out from one of the side rooms. "You're back!"
"What the hell happened here?" I ask, turning to look back at the bodies. "Why are they like this?"
"Spontaneous muscular attraction," she replies.
I turn to her.
"I made that up," she admits, taking a puff from her inhaler. "I don't actually know what happened. One minute they were normal, the way you last saw them, and the next minute they were like this. It's like they reached out to each other. I've run a whole load of tests, but the best I can come up with is either some kind of spontaneous spasm, which is pretty unlikely, or a practical joke."
"A practical joke?" I ask, walking over to the nearest body.
"Well, we can't discount it," she says.
Reaching down, I touch the body's neck, and I feel a faint shudder of energy. Whatever happened to these corpses, it left behind some residual traces.
"Have you been working here alone?" I ask after a moment.
"Sorry," she says. "You were gone. I didn't know what else to do."
"You find anything interesting?"
"All the bodies have been completely drained," she replies. "I mean, like, completely drained. One or two of them have got a few drops of blood left, but for the most part, this was some kind of industrial-level drainage operation."
"Did you feel anyone else in the room?" Turning to her, I see the blank look of incomprehension in her eyes. "While you were alone with the bodies," I continue, "did you feel or experience anything that made you wonder if someone was here? Did you hear a noise, or did you feel anything brush against you?"
"No," she says flatly. "Well, maybe a couple of times. You know when you feel like something touched you, but it's just, like, you're being jumpy?" She waits for me to say something. "Maybe it happened once or twice," she adds cautiously. "Why?"
Looking across the room, I feel a shiver run down my spine. Up until this point, I was never able to work out why the bodies were left out for us to find them. I figured it would have been easy to hide them, so there had to be a reason why they were just casually discarded. Now that I know there might be Strix involvement, I'm starting to figure it out. After all, if the Strix were looking for me, perhaps their best bet was to leave out some bait. They knew I'd end up near the bodies sooner or later, and since the Strix can move around without being noticed, they could easily have waited to see when I'd arrive.
"Where's Detective Gregory?" I ask, turning back to Katie.
"He was here earlier," she replies. "I don't know where he is now, though."
"Did he say anything?"
"About what?"
"About me."
"Not really." She pauses. "He just asked where you were, and I told him you were sick. I mean, that's the truth, isn't it?"
Reaching down to the nearest body, I check the temperature of the skin. It feels ice cold, and there's no sign of movement. I guess it's possible that Absalom was wrong when he started going on about the Strix, but something tells me that Absalom probably isn't wrong very often. I still don't quite understand what's happening here, and the last thing I need to do is to raise suspicion by overreacting, but I can't shake the feeling that some kind of trap is slowly starting to close. If that's the case, it means that there's something these vampires need, and it must be something I can give them. After all, they've made sure that these bodies are in my lab.
"You're kinda freaking me out," Katie says.
"Take the day off," I reply, turning to her. "You've covered for me while I was away. Now it's my turn. Go... do whatever it is that people like you do when you've got free time."
"I was going to finish some new samples," she says. "I kinda -"
"Take the day off," I say again, grabbing her by the shoulders and steering her toward the door. "It's not good for you to work so long without a break. You've done very well, but it's time to relax. You can come back tomorrow if you like. I'll find something for you to do."
"Really?" she asks. "I thought you hated having an assistant?"
"It's fine," I say, opening the door and literally forcing her out into the corridor. I just need to get her out of here as fast as possible, with the minimum level of fuss. "You've been very resourceful. I'm sure we'll have a long and successful working relationship and I'll come to respect you a great deal."
"But -"
Pushing the door shut in her face, I turn and stare at the rows of dead bodies. Taking a deep breath, I walk over to the nearest corpse and look down at the pale, emaciated face. As far as anyone would know just from looking at the corpse, this seems to be the body of a young male, aged in his late teens or early twenties. His skin is a very pale yellow color, and his eyes have begun to sink into the sockets. I always find human corpses to be so disgusting and pathetic. Vampires burn when they die, but humans just stop moving.
"Not this one," I mutter, before moving onto the next body and taking a closer look. Leaning closer, I sniff the puncture wounds, but once again I find nothing. I check the next body, and then the next, before finally I find one that has the tell-tale aroma of blood. A human would never be able to notice such a thing, of course, but I have no trouble detecting the faint smell that rises from the two puncture marks on the corpse's neck. It's not much, but hopefully it'll be enough to serve as bait for a hungry Strix.
"This one," I say, taking a step back. Turning and looking across the rows of dead bodies, I look for any kind of sign that I'm not alone. "There's still blood in this body," I continue. "Not a lot, but some. Doesn't that interest you?" I wait for a response, but there's nothing. "I'm impressed," I say eventually. "I've heard about the Strix. I thought you were unable to fight your urge for blood. From what I read, it seemed as if you were driven mad by the smell. You must be finding it very hard to hold back from attacking this final body. Don't you want those last few drops of
pure, unadulterated human blood? I'm not going to stop you. Look." I take a further step back. "See? Just go for it. What have you got to lose? No-one's going to get in your way. What does it matter if you take a drop or two more? If you don't -"
Before I can finish, I hear a noise nearby, and I turn just in time to spot a glass beaker being knocked from one of the counters. As it smashes against the floor, I realize my plan is working.
"Think about it," I continue, stepping further back from the corpse. "Think of those precious few drops of blood left in this dead body. Think of those drops being wasted when the body's eventually burned. I know it's not much. Compared to all the blood you farmed from these people, it's almost nothing, but still... Imagine how it'd feel to have even a drop or two more."
Silence.
"Fine," I say with a smile, "If you don't want it, I'll take it."
Suddenly something grabs my arm and throws me against the nearby wall. When I turn to look back at the nearest dead body, I see that its head has been raised from the metal table, as if some kind of invisible force is lifting it up. If I'm right, one of the Strix has finally given into temptation and decided to take the last of the blood. Without the Book of Gothos as a reference source, I'm struggling to remember everything I ever read about these creatures, but I'm fairly certain that while they're too fragile and indistinct to be visible most of the time, they can be seen briefly in the moment after they've fed. If that's the case, hopefully the remaining blood in the corpse will be enough.
Slowly, right before my eyes, something starts to become visible. At first, it seems to be a kind of dark patch of air, standing next to the body, but finally I start to make out the smoky, warped features of a humanoid. As it lets go of the corpse and turns to me, I see the creature's face. So this is what a Strix looks like: pale and weak, and fearful, like the ghost of a ghost, with what appear to be strips of yellowed skin hanging from its body. Unused to being seen, the creature stares at me with a horrified expression, and I can see madness in its wide-open, darting eyes.
"I know what you are," I say firmly, "and I think I'm starting to understand what you want. There are more of you, aren't there? If you -"
Before I can finish, the creature disappears from view. I guess there was only enough blood in the corpse to make the Strix visible for a second or two. Stepping forward, I reach out, hoping that I might be able to grab the creature, but it's too late. As I look across the room, I realize that the Strix could be anywhere by now, and it's unlikely that I'll be able to pull the same trick twice. Still, at least now I know for certain what I'm facing, although I really need the Book of Gothos if I'm going to work out what to do next. The Strix aren't gathering blood for their own use. They clearly have a much bigger plan.
Mark Gregory
Stepping out of my car, I immediately see that this is big. Whatever's going on here, it's not good news. There are several police cars and ambulances parked nearby, and more are arriving all the time. Half an hour ago, I received a call to let me know that there had been a major new development, and now I'm down near the old wharf, at what has clearly become a new crime scene.
"Detective Gregory!"
Turning, I see a cop hurrying over to me. "What's happening?" I ask. "I got a call -"
"You have to see this, Sir," he replies, leading me toward the building. To be honest, as soon as I heard the emergency call for responders to get down here, I started to worry. In the back of my mind, there's been a farm for the past few days that we might find another 'farm' of bloodless bodies, and I can't shake the feeling that this is exactly what's going on here. The case is about to explode in a big way, and the fact that I don't have any leads is going to become a big issue once the media starts covering the story.
"Who's in charge here?" I ask the cop as we head through the dilapidated doorway.
"I guess you are now, Sir," he says. "We only got here about twenty minutes ago. We got a tip-off from some kids. They didn't stick around, but they sounded scared. They phoned it in and said there were a load of people in here. It didn't really sound like it could be true, but it's a slow day. Most times, we just ignore it when people tell us about a load of junkies. I mean, we can't run around after those assholes all day, right? We almost turned around and headed off, but something about this place just didn't feel quite right. We came inside and..." He stops as he reaches the next door. "I think you should brace yourself," he says, turning to me. "My partner threw up. We're talking -"
"I've seen stuff like this before," I say.
"I'm not talking about what you're gonna see," he replies. "I'm talking about the smell. Man, there's nothing like it. It's the foulest fucking thing in the world." Pausing for a moment, he finally pushes the door open.
And that's when I hear it.
As I step forward, I realize what we've found. It's another blood farm, exactly like the one from the other day. There at least a hundred bodies, maybe more this time, all chained to the floor in a grid formation and all kept just far enough away from one another to prevent any contact. They're all pale and malnourished, and the place stinks of various bodily fluids. There's absolutely no doubt that whoever did this, it's the same people who were behind the previous farm. There's only one difference. One crucial, overpowering difference.
These victims are still alive.
Tugging at their chains, screaming and moaning and occasionally reaching out toward one of us, they're desperately trying to get loose. I've been on the force for almost a decade, but I swear to God I've never seen anything so hideous. It's as if these people have been treated worse than farm animals, left to suffer until their masters decide they need them again. Judging by the rasping sounds coming from their throats, it seems as if they've been silenced in some way, since none of them can make too much noise. I guess their vocal chords have probably been cut, to ensure that they can't scream for help.
"Is there any point helping them?" the cop asks. "They look like they're too far gone."
"They're still people," I say. "There's still hope." Even as the words leave my lips, however, I know that they're futile. There's no hope here.
"But maybe it'd be kinder to just..." He pauses. "I mean, maybe it'd be cruel to keep 'em alive. If they can't be helped, we should just..." His voice trails off, and it's clear that he doesn't know what to do. I don't blame him. I can't even begin to imagine a more terrifying theater of human misery. Frankly, I don't think the human mind is capable of processing such horror.
Walking over to the nearest victim, I glance down and see her wide, staring eyes looking back up at me. She's wearing rags, and her entire body is covered by her own waste, which seeps into a series of cuts and gashes. It's like looking at some kind of crazed animal, and I'm not even sure that she's still sane. Stepping closer, I realize she's letting out a kind of whimpering, moaning sound, while her eyes remain steadfastly fixed on me. After a moment, I catch sight of the tell-tale puncture marks on the side of her neck, and it's clear that - like the bodies found in the previous building - she's been kept alive purely so that her blood can be harvested at regular intervals.
"It's okay," I say, hoping she can understand me. "You're going to be okay. We're going to get you out of here."
Staring at me, she lets out a deep, gnarled gurgle.
"It's going to be fine," I continue, even though the words sound hopelessly naive. Judging by the look of this girl, she's almost dead already, and I don't know if there's anything we can do to help her survive.
"Fuck," the cop says, taking a step back. "Jesus Christ, I never thought it could be this bad. The smell..."
"These people are starved," I say, looking across the sea of writhing bodies. A group of medics are standing nearby, but they seem frozen in place, as if they don't know where to start. Feeling something against my shoe, I look down and see that the female has reached out and managed to touch me. I don't know what she wants, but her filthy fingers are scrabbling at the edge of the shoe, leaving a faint brown sta
in on the leather.
"So what now?" the cop asks, turning to me.
I step a little further back, making sure I'm just out of the girl's reach.
"Now we have to find whoever's doing this," I say, unable to quite comprehend the magnitude of the misery spread out before me. "We have to stop them. We -" Before I can finish, however, I realize that there's something familiar about the girl's face. With a slow sense of horror creeping over my shoulders and down onto my chest, I finally recognize her.
It's Clare Stamler.
Part Three
Hush
Prologue
Many years ago
Gothos stood in the darkened hall. He could hear Patrick's fury spreading through the house, and he knew that it would only be a matter of time before he would come face to face with the one vampire who had uncovered his secret.
"He must die," Gothos muttered.
"Can the secret truly be so grave?" asked Rasmussen, staring with terrified eyes at the door that seemed bound to open at any moment. "Surely the name of our enemy is not so hideous that -"
"I decreed that the name must remain a secret," Gothos said firmly, "and my decision must not be questioned. You must merely trust that I had good reason to -" He flinched as the house shook yet again. "I would rather all the armies in the world had entered this place," he whispered, "than Patrick alone."
"We must flee," said Rasmussen. "We must get as far away from here as possible."
"No," Gothos said firmly. "You must go and delay Patrick. Deter him. Give me time to reach the Hecate and use his machine." He paused. "I can assure you that I will never forget your sacrifice, my dear friend. Even as you die at this brute's hand, know that I will remember your name for the rest of my life."