by Max Turner
I took a moment to run through things in my head. One statement in particular stood out: that, under the Changeling’s tutelage, I could become the perfect instrument for controlling the pathogen. Mentioning it seemed risky. Vlad was composed at the moment, but his bouts of paranoia were a thing of legend, and I had no way to know how he might later twist this against me. Fortunately, there were other snippets of conversation worthy of attention.
“He said he likes to stay behind the scenes. That even though he can imitate you, he had Istvan resurrect you so he wouldn’t have to. He says it’s safer, and keeps him detached, so he can make decisions more objectively.”
Vlad snickered. “What nonsense! He wasn’t distant when he killed my friends. Did he speak to that?” Vlad must have read my expression, because he didn’t wait long before continuing. “Did I not tell you in the tunnels how often men are served by saying one thing and doing another? He bloodies his hands often, and I doubt that will change any time soon.” He looked away, his jaw twitching, as though wrestling with some inner demon. Ophelia put a hand on his arm. He seemed not to notice.
“How did he present himself to you?” she asked. “You mentioned several faces. Were any of them people you recognized?”
“Some,” I said. Then I did my best to explain about the young man with the ancient eyes whose ethnicity I couldn’t place. I also mentioned how he’d appeared as Uncle Jake and the security guard from the Nicholls Ward and, lastly, Dr. Shepherd, my old shrink. It took a while to cover everything. People kept interrupting.
“Hold on a minute,” Charlie said. “You mean this freak’s been spying on you since you were a kid?”
“So he says. Since my father died.”
At the mention of my father, Vlad perked up. “Is this possible?” he asked Ophelia.
“I screened all of the people who had contact with Zachary at the Nicholls Ward,” she answered. “I can assure you that none of them were vampires.”
“Could you have made a mistake?” I asked.
“I doubt it. It is more likely that he plucked the images of those people from your memory.”
Vlad’s forehead knotted. His eyes strayed to the Dragon Dagger. He stared at it a moment, then held out his hand. “That’s not the dagger I gave you.”
He waved his fingers slightly as if to tell me to hurry up and hand it over.
I drew it from the sheath. The black metal blade was dulled along the edge where the snake venom had dried. I wondered if it would still be fatal if he crammed it in my belly. And I wondered if he’d knowingly given me up to be killed by his enemies.
“There was a bond growing between us the night of Ophelia’s trial,” he said. “I know you felt it. Don’t let the Changeling destroy it entirely. He would want you to mistrust me. How else can he ensure we don’t unite to stand against him?”
Was that right? My memory was usually very dependable. But I’d been so focused on what happened after the trial, I hadn’t thought much about what had happened before. I had felt a bond growing between us the night we rescued Ophelia. Vlad’s pride in me had been empowering.
I placed the hilt of the dagger in his palm. He twisted it lengthwise in his fingers, then made a few phantom swipes through the air. “The weight isn’t right.” He raised his hand and swung it in a violent arc. For an instant, I thought he was going to stab me, but he spun the dagger instead and slammed the pommel against the metal armour of his thigh. The ruby in the dragon’s mouth shattered with a dull pop, scattering shards of crystal across the courtyard. It was a fake. Vlad kicked through the pieces on the ground, then reached down and picked up a metal square about the size of a postage stamp. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized it.
“Interesting countermove …”
“What it is?” Ophelia asked.
“Another transponder. It seems the Changeling is no stranger to technology.”
He turned to the roof. A man stepped from the shadows above us. Vlad must have communicated something to him, because the man nodded, then secured a rope to the edge of the building and dropped over the side. He was surprisingly nimble for a human.
“Miklos is an old friend,” Vlad said. “His family has served my house for generations. He will fly the helicopter to a safer location while we are underground. I will have him take both transponders with him.”
Miklos’s expression was hard to read. He had a full beard that climbed up his cheeks and hid most of his face. After a short introduction, Vlad handed him the transponders. A conversation followed between the two men in a language I didn’t understand. When it was finished, Miklos scampered off towards the helicopter.
“I’m sending the transponders east,” Vlad said. “It might fool the Changeling, though I doubt it. He seems to anticipate our every move. In the meantime, we have an appointment to keep. The dawn is nearing. It is time to meet the Baptist.” He turned to Vincent. “You know what to do?”
Vinny smiled. “You betcha.” He handed his Gatling gun to Charlie, slipped the ammunition belt from his shoulder and took off towards the wall on our right. It was at least twenty feet high and separated the courtyard from a parking lot beside the building. He hurdled it without breaking stride. I hadn’t seen anything like it since Charlie and I went after his father, Hyde, in the Warsaw Caves.
“He shows exceptional promise,” Vlad said, then he gestured towards the base of the fountain. “Now, you need to put your armour on. I had new suits made for everyone. After spending so much time in the same clothes, I’m sure you’ll find the change agreeable.”
A suit of Kevlar was lying on the paving stones. There was a katana beside it. Its sheath was crusted with gems. It would have cost a king’s ransom. “You understand that in accepting these gifts you are pledging your support for our cause.”
“And what cause is that?” I asked.
“Survival. At least for now. We are too few to consider any other course.”
I understood. I also understood that I was stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place. The Changeling was on one side; Vlad, the other. A collision between the two was imminent, and if I wasn’t careful, my friends and I were going to get ground up between them.
Vlad’s few remaining allies will be taken care of in the nights ahead, the Changeling had said. It was clear now that he’d been referring to my friends. Although I didn’t trust Vlad, Charlie had made a good point in the helicopter. I could trust Vlad’s interests. To survive, he needed Ophelia, and the support of my friends and me. And we needed him.
When I was finished dressing, Vlad slipped his hand past Ophelia’s elbow. Arm in arm, the two began walking from the courtyard. Without a word, Luna flanked them on the left. Charlie started backing his way out of the courtyard, the Gatling gun in one hand, the belt wrapped around the other. “Take the right flank,” he said. “And keep your eyes peeled.”
I glanced at Vlad and Ophelia. It was like watching the Royal Family with their body guards heading out for an evening stroll.
“You know how to use that thing?” I asked Charlie, nodding to the Gatling gun.
“Yeah,” he said, raising the tip. “That’s the dangerous end.”
CHAPTER 41
THE LABYRINTH
WHILE WE CAUTIOUSLY exited the brightly lit courtyard, Charlie explained their system. He was rearguard, Vincent scouted ahead, Ophelia watched one flank, Luna the other, and Vlad held the centre. I was supposed to take Ophelia’s place so she could talk with Vlad, but I hung back to ask Charlie about Istvan. In Montreal, he’d taken a stand with us against the Horsemen, then retrieved my corpse and raised me from the dead. Why do that if he was working for the Changeling?
When I brought it up, Charlie shrugged. “Vlad says Istvan is a loyal friend. I like the guy and he hasn’t taken the mark. But Luna thinks he might be trying to play both sides against the middle. You know, like in Halo? You let the Covenant and the Flood hash it out, then mop up the leftovers.”
“I don’t see the connecti
on,” I said.
“If Istvan helps us stay alive, both sides keep fighting and do more damage to one another. Then it’s easier for him to swoop in and claim the throne.”
I hadn’t considered it, but the idea had merit.
“He hid us in his castle in Moldavia,” Charlie continued, “then brought us to Castle Dracula just before you left with Vlad. We didn’t know you were there, or that you were even alive. It was crazy weird when your shadow caught us in the woods.”
Charlie then explained how Istvan had warned them that the Changeling was coming. “He told us to scram. He said he was going to get your body and meet us outside, but he never showed. I figure he got nabbed by the Changeling and had to cut a deal to save his hide, but Luna thinks the whole thing was a set-up, that he arranged to turn you over as soon as Vlad was gone.”
“What does Ophelia think?”
“She won’t say. You know how tight-lipped she can be.” He paused to think. “But you know, Luna could be right. It’s possible Istvan turned you over on purpose. He might have known about the transponder. Maybe he thought we could use you to find the Changeling.” He shook his head as though disagreeing with himself. “Ahhh, who knows?”
Istvan knew. I wondered if I’d ever get to the bottom of it. “And what about Vlad?” I asked. “Do you think he had anything to do with it?”
“With you getting caught?” Charlie asked. “No, I don’t think so. After you disappeared, he made finding you his top priority.”
He looked straight at me as though challenging me to doubt him. I didn’t. At least, I had no doubt that he was telling me the truth as he saw it. It didn’t mean he wasn’t wrong.
“So why didn’t the Changeling kill you?” he asked.
I shrugged. If I was the Messiah, I was a threat. If I wasn’t, I was still a young vampire in a family with too many generations. I should have been executed, or at least left in undeath.
“Do you think the prophecies are true?” Charlie asked.
“What, that I’m the Messiah? More like one of the Lost Boys. And here I am following Vlad again … I don’t know, Charlie. None of this makes sense to me.”
“I hear ya.”
“Are you doing all right?”
I meant to be more specific, to ask about Suki and his father and how he was coping, but he knew exactly what I was getting at. His eyes fell. “It’s better when we’re busy. But … I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.”
I understood. I didn’t want to talk about it either. “Are we okay?”
“Yeah. We’re good. Hard to stay mad at a guy when he dies saving your life.”
“What about Luna?”
“She’s doing better. She was a mess when we got off the ship. Istvan dumped your body in the harbour, and we didn’t know if he was going to be able to find it again, or if the New Order knew what he’d done and was looking for it. Then she had to tell her parents about Suki. That was a train wreck. But we’ve got you back now. If we can hook up with the Baptist, we might just make it out of this alive.”
He was still facing the way we’d come, staring into the darkness with such intensity I don’t think a dust mote could have slipped past him. He’d changed since Halloween. His restlessness was gone. In its place was a calm determination that chilled me, because I could sense the anger lurking just beneath. It reminded me of Vlad. I glanced to my left, where Luna was just as focused, her head on a swivel. In contrast, Vlad and Ophelia walked ahead arm in arm, their eyes on one another, arguing in hushed whispers.
Charlie nodded for me to take my place on the right. “Vlad wants eyes on all sides. He’ll get … well, you know how he’ll get. Better take your place.”
I took up a position about a stone’s throw from Vlad and Ophelia. They led us to a set of spiral steps that wound down to a street with beige and yellow buildings set tightly together. For just a second, it brought Charlie back into my orbit.
“Where’s Vinny?” I asked.
“You won’t see him unless he wants you to,” Charlie answered. “He’s more dangerous than the rest of us put together. If he ever goes nuts like his old man, we’re going to have our hands full.”
I understood. His father had been indomitable. It had taken a million pounds of falling rock to stop him.
We fanned out and continued along a winding street. Eventually, Vlad waved us into the backyard of a red-brick building. Protecting the back door was a locked iron gate. Vlad produced a set of keys, then led us down into a basement. “Budapest is famous for its hydrothermal caves,” he said. “Hundreds run through these hills.”
The place didn’t look like a cave at all, more like a wine cellar. It was well lit, well travelled. The passages were wide enough for a tour bus, and the floor and walls were perfectly flat, finished in places with concrete or stone.
“It was a bomb shelter during world war II,” Ophelia added. “Thousands of people could hide down here at a time.”
“The Baptist is meeting us here?” I asked.
“Not here. Farther along—past this tourist area.”
We kept walking through the dark, past walls that were painted with primitive pictures of Stone Age hunters and aurochs. At one place, there was a huge head carved from stone that looked as if it had sunk halfway into the floor. Past this was a chamber with a low ceiling. It was supported in the middle by a square stone column covered in ivy. A fountain had been set into each of the four sides. Instead of water, red wine flowed from each spigot, filling the damp, earthy air with a sour smell.
Vlad glanced at Charlie. My friend handed the Gatling gun back to Vincent. I hadn’t even noticed that he’d rejoined us. Charlie drew an English longsword from his belt. He looked at the katana on my hip. I took it out.
“The Baptist is waiting just beyond this chamber,” Vlad said. “Unless the Changeling follows the transponders to Snagov, we will likely be interrupted.”
Snagov. It was another name from Vlad’s biography, an island monastery where his body was thought to have been buried centuries ago.
Vlad reached under his cloak and produced a handful of pamphlets. He opened one and began to read. “The third great woe is upon us,” it began. The rest read like a religious brochure straight out of Revelation. It talked about the Antichrist and the coming of the Messiah, how he would stare into the maw of evil and drive it from the face of the earth. He folded open another. This one was about a boy with nine lives who would walk through fire and drive the forces of darkness back into the abyss. In another, the orphaned son of the hunter, who had faced the Beast of the Apocalypse and ended the reign of the mad Impaler, offered up everything but a free trip to Disneyland.
Vlad showed me other pamphlets. One had a drawing in it that might have been me or Johnny Depp. The writing was Chinese, or maybe Japanese. “Romanian,” he said, flashing another. There were more. “Swahili. Spanish. Dutch. Norwegian. Russian. This one is apparently a big hit in Argentina. Since the Changeling’s rise, the Baptist has been distributing propaganda like this all around the globe. I have been trying to meet with him, but he has been unwilling to risk it. The Changeling has whittled away at both of us, and now, it seems, out of desperation, the Baptist is willing to join his strength to ours. It is you who will make this alliance possible. Are you ready?” He didn’t wait for me to answer but walked to the wall and bent to the floor. “What direction am I facing, Luna?” he asked.
“North.”
I had no idea how either of them knew, but obviously she had learned a thing or two since our lessons at Iron Spike Enterprises.
Vlad counted up six stones, then pushed one in. I heard a click, like a tumbler in a lock. A second stone, four over and one down, released some other mechanism behind the wall. I could hear a chain winding. A section of the cave wall swung inward. The opening was just high enough that we could duck in.
Vlad glanced back at all of us. “Be on your guard. We …”
He didn’t finish. Instead, he turned towards
Vincent, who was growling beside me. I felt a jab of pain in my gums as my teeth slid down. The odour of vampire blood came wafting out of the hole, masking the smells of dust and sour wine.
“There has been fighting here,” said Vlad. Then he ducked into the cave and waved us forward.
CHAPTER 42
THE END OF WAR
“VINCENT, TAKE THE point,” Ophelia said. “Luna and Charlie, guard the flanks. Zack, stay here and guard the exit with me.”
Vlad shifted ahead, then nodded that it was safe to follow. This cave—irregular in shape—was more in line with what I’d expected when we entered the tourist area.
Luna didn’t move.
“I’m with you,” I said.
She ducked through the entrance. I bent to follow.
Ophelia took hold of my arm. “Zack …”
She was afraid for me, I could smell it. But what could I say? I was afraid too, for all of us. It was all the more reason to act.
Vlad was watching us closely. “He cannot lead from the rear, Ophelia.”
She didn’t let go. “If something were to happen to you again—”
“I’ll be careful.”
She didn’t try to stop me when I darted after Luna.
Footfalls and the clash of metal weapons echoed from ahead, but the cave was honeycombed with side tunnels and the sounds reverberated up and down through the limestone, making it impossible to tell exactly where they were coming from. The smell of blood was strong, however, and that was what we followed. It wasn’t long before Luna skidded to a halt. The yellowish-grey stone underfoot was stained crimson. I saw scuff marks. A vampire had been killed there, but the body had been dragged away.
Luna turned to speak, then her eyes widened and she pushed me sideways. A white, long-fingered hand covered with scars and pustules slashed through the air where my neck had been. She thrust forward with her sword. I heard a raspy cry of pain and turned to see Pestilence diving into the shadows. An instant later, he appeared ahead of us, then vanished again. I heard more clanging and followed the trail of blood. The smell of death grew stronger.