The Night Inside

by The Night Inside (epub)

  “Lock the door,” he said, breathing hard, face pale beneath the gleam of fear-sweat. Lisa barely got out of her chair before he reached her to push her aside. She eased herself towards the back of the lab, where the knot of her fellow captives stood frozen.

  “What happened?” the guard asked.

  “The monster’s here. He took out Buwoski and Noble. Call down the guardhouse and get them up here.” He leaned over the monitor, obscuring Lisa’s view, while the guard picked up the phone. “Shit. That little punk shot out the ultrasound.”

  “Carnegie and Singh are on their way. Give ’em five minutes. Should I call Ms. Dale?”

  “No! We’ll handle this,” Rooke snarled, staring at the screen. “They can’t get in here.” It sounded almost like a prayer.

  “We can’t get out,” the guard observed cautiously. Lisa caught the edge of the withering glance that remark received.

  She heard rustling behind her, the creak of a stool as someone settled into it. In the sudden silence, each sound seemed to reverberate and the hum of the computers was unbearably loud. She glanced into the cell and saw that Ardeth was sitting up straight, sunglasses gone, staring at the mirror-window as if she could see the confusion beyond it. Can she? Lisa wondered suddenly. Or does she see it with senses other than her eyes?

  Rooke straightened up suddenly, shoulders tightening as he glanced around the room. Lisa felt ice track down her spine as the pale blue eyes slid over her. He was scared, she realized suddenly. And we all saw it. That is something he cannot bear, that the monster frightened even him in the end—and that we know it.

  The cold gaze settled on the mirror for a moment then she saw a smile crack across the thin mouth. “Bring me the ultrasound and open the cell.” The guard froze for a moment. “Now, Banks.” Banks unslung his riffle, fumbled with the machinery, and moved to the door.

  When it opened, Sara stood up. Ardeth did not. Rooke leaned against the lintel, ultrasound wand dangling almost negligently from his hand, Banks at his shoulder with the rifle ready. “Come out.”

  “And greet your guests?” Ardeth asked casually and the device in Rooke’s hand swung up.

  “Come out and keep your mouth shut until I tell you to open it.” She shrugged and leaned down to pull on her shoes, then rose and walked towards Rooke. He backed away with equal nonchalance, ultrasound always between them. “Bring the other one.” Banks pointed the gun at Sara in response and she went to the door, stiffening when he gripped her arm and pushed her out into the laboratory.

  Beside her, Lisa heard Martinez swear softly. Someone sucked in their breath and let it out in a rattling sigh. Rooke glanced their way briefly. “Dr. Takara, turn on the intercom.” She moved to the console, surprised to find she was pleased to be able to see the monitors again, to observe the two men hovering outside the door. It gave her the illusion of control. She found the intercom button among the others and pressed it.

  “Hello, Rozokov,” Rooke said. “Can you hear me?” Lisa saw the men start in surprise, then the pale grey head nodded. She glanced at Rooke and saw the flicker of his eyes towards the monitor. “Good. Now tell your friend to get rid of the gun and the both of you lie down on the ground.” The man’s shrug was expressive. “Why? Because if you don’t I’ll try out the ultrasound on your girlfriend here. Or I’ll shoot her sister.”

  Lisa saw the distress on the young man’s face. His hands moved in controlled panic, gesturing with the gun at the door. Rooke’s grin told her he had seen it too. Rozokov did not move. “I forgot. I can see you but you can’t see me. So you’ll just have to listen.”

  Lisa heard nothing but Ardeth’s sudden scream. The black-clad form arched and crumpled. Sara’s cry came a moment afterward and she lunged forward, wrenching herself from Banks’s grip. Then the gun butt cracked across her shoulders and she fell to her knees. Ardeth was huddled on the floor, fingers clawing at the white tiles in time to her hoarse, shuddering moans.

  On the monitor, Lisa saw the young man surge towards the door, his mouth opening and closing in soundless shouts. The old man’s eyes closed in pain. She felt a sudden throb in her fingers and glanced down in surprise to discover that her hands were digging at the metal console. Her thumb touched something; the switch that controlled the door.

  I wonder what would happen if I pushed it, she thought distantly. I wonder which monster scares me more.

  No, I don’t wonder that at all.

  From somewhere far away, she saw her thumb flatten and press, heard her voice shout “The door’s open” before she flung herself backward off the chair. The sudden clatter of Banks’s rifle came on the heels of Rooke’s cry. Someone screamed and glass shattered behind her.

  Reality caught her as she hit the floor and rolled beneath the console. The metal door was grinding open with agonizing slowness. Rooke swung towards it, the ultrasound moving with him. On the floor in front of her, she saw Ardeth gather herself up, limbs moving with slow spider grace. Beneath the veil of black hair, her mouth opened like a wound.

  Then she was on him, breaking his grip on the ultrasound with the snap of his wrist, dragging him around into her savage embrace. She held him for a moment, spun him around in a strange, violent dance. For one endless moment, Lisa saw only their white faces pressed together, his pale with fear, hers bloodless with exultation. Then she let him go, hands flashing to catch his shoulders as she turned him and slammed his head into the computer screen that was still flashing the secrets of her blood.

  Lisa put her face into her arms, shielding herself from the sudden crack and the flash of light as the vacuum inside the screen exploded. Something struck her and pattered away with a sound somewhere between liquid and glass. The smell of blood and burning circuitry filled the air.

  Shaking, she forced herself to look up, past her blood-spattered arms, past the mess of the red and grey on the floor. Into the ancient eyes of the beautiful, terrible creature standing over her.

  Chapter 33

  When he came through the door, Rooke was beyond his rage, locked in Ardeth’s death dance, so Rozokov took what vengeance he could, tearing the gun from the guard’s hands and swinging it against the blank, terrified face.

  For a moment he could only stand there, waiting for the red madness to drain away, for the echoes of Ardeth’s anguish to be replaced by the sounds of Rooke’s dying, Mickey’s murmurs to Sara, the strange, distant moans and queries from the far side of the laboratory. When he found himself again, he turned slowly to look around.

  Mickey was crouched beside Ardeth’s sister, helping her to sit up. A man lay in a puddle of blood against the far wall. A weeping woman shook the shoulder of another, older man as he sprawled beside her, face down. A dark-haired man was moaning as he tried unsuccessfully to sit up, clutching his shoulder, blood seeping from beneath his hand. Stretched beside the bulk of the console was another woman, her arms around her head.

  Rooke’s body was still, dangling from the shattered computer like a limp, useless cable. The scent of scorched hair and smouldering flesh lay under the sweet, heavy smell of blood. And beside him, Ardeth huddled, her face hidden by the fall of her hair.

  He moved towards her, pausing briefly as the prone woman lifted her head to gaze up at him, and he looked down into dark, almond eyes. Then he crossed the slippery floor to crouch at Ardeth’s side. When he said her name, there was no response. For a moment he thought it was only Rooke’s blood on her cheek. When he touched it, she winced a little, but the blankness did not leave her eyes.

  She was in shock, he realized, shattered by the ultrasound and the aftermath of her savage violence. He plucked away the first shard of glass, then saw the second glittering in her hair.

  Behind him, he heard the insistent buzz of the doorbell, then voices over the intercom. He turned to see the oriental woman pulling herself to her feet. “They called the other guards,” she said slowly and Rozokov recognized the voice that ha
d screamed to them over the sound of Ardeth’s pain.

  “Can you keep them out?” She blinked distractedly for a moment, then shifted with painful slowness to stand in front of the console. As he turned back to Ardeth, he heard her talking, telling them that Rooke was busy and to return to their posts. If they believed her at all, it would not be for long.

  His oldest, strongest instincts screamed at him to take Ardeth and run, praying that the death of Rooke would be enough to end their pursuit. But he knew that it would not. Everything in this laboratory could betray them and beyond it, somewhere in the rest of the house, was the woman whose will had revived the nightmare left unfinished when he fled this house one hundred years ago.

  He glanced over at Sara Alexander and saw that she was on her feet. “Sara, take her out of here. Take out all the glass you can find.”

  “Glass . . . ?” she echoed in bewilderment, but she was moving already, stooping beside him to touch Ardeth’s arm. Her face paled when she saw the blood and glitter on her sister’s hair and skin.

  “You will do her no harm. Go on.” He helped to raise Ardeth to her feet, then surrendered her into Sara’s hands, refusing to look as they limped from the room. “We have to destroy the laboratory. Mickey, do whatever has to be done to the computers.” He waved his hand at the machines he had never used. Mickey stood still, staring at him. “Go on . . . unless you want Sara to be a hostage to this forever.” Under the lash of that threat, the young man moved.

  Rozokov stepped past the dying men and shaking woman without looking at them. He found the blood samples in the test tubes and the refrigerator and poured them down the drain, then followed them with the skin samples. A sudden burst of gunfire shocked him around. Mickey stood in front of the row of computers, the guard’s gun clamped against his side, emptying the magazine into the machinery. Rooke’s body jerked each time the bullets swept across it.

  As the echoes of the shots died, Mickey looked around with a strange, sardonic smile. The oriental woman eased herself back up from her crouch behind the console. “Is that everything?” Rozokov asked her.

  “They recorded the examination and the conversation in the cell. The tape is in the machine here.” She gestured behind her, a vague, distracted movement. “There are other tapes as well, but Rooke has those.”

  “Takara!” the dark-haired man said in sudden reproof.

  “What tapes?” He stepped closer.

  “The movie they made. The asylum afterwards.” She looked up at him, dark eyes unreadable.

  “Why?” She shrugged.

  “There are monsters, after all. But you are not the worst of them.”

  “I should not let you live,” he found himself compelled to point out.

  “No. You probably should not.”

  The hallway did not seem safe enough, so Sara took the first door that opened. Inside the darkened room, she settled her sister’s unresisting body down on the couch. “Ardeth?” She wished that her voice didn’t sound so small and frightened, that the bloody face and blank eyes staring up at her weren’t so disconcertingly disconnected from any semblance of the sister she remembered. When she took a limp hand in hers, something sharp stabbed her thumb. She forced herself to close her eyes and pull out the thin sliver of glass.

  She found more in Ardeth’s hair and hands and down the length of her torso. Ardeth shivered as each shard was removed but she said nothing. She didn’t even close her eyes.

  To Sara’s relief, the wounds only wept thin blood for a moment and then seemed to close. She found a cloth by the room’s small sink, dampened it with water, and wiped away the blood that was painted across Ardeth’s face. As she smoothed the last of it away, her sister stirred, blinking slowly. “Sara.” Her hand lifted a little and Sara caught it, leaning closer.

  “It’s OK. Mickey and . . .” She paused, groping for a word to define what that grey-haired man must be to Ardeth. She could not find one but remembered a name coming from Rooke’s mouth. “Rozokov came. Rooke’s dead. You’re safe now.”

  Ardeth shook her head with sudden strength. “No. We’re not safe . . . not until Havendale burns. Where is he?”

  “Back in the lab. I think he and Mickey are destroying it.” She caught Ardeth’s shoulders as her sister struggled to sit up. “You’re in shock. Just rest for a moment.”

  “I can’t rest. He’ll go on without me.”

  “No one will leave you. Just lie still. You’re not strong enough to move yet.” She tried to soothe her, brushing back the blood-matted hair, her fingers holding tight to the cold hand.

  “She’ll be waiting for us. He’ll die if he goes alone,” The hoarse whisper was frantic, the eyes, no longer blank, were wide and frightened. “I have to go with him. I have to be strong enough to go with him.”

  “You’ll be alright.”

  “I could be,” Ardeth said, as if she hadn’t heard. “I could be strong enough if I had something to,” her voice trailed off. Sara felt her heart constrict suddenly. She remembered the flippant voice from the prison room: “Got any B positive blood?”

  She’ll be all right. She’ll be fine without it. She’s just scared and in shock. She’s not thinking clearly. For a moment she clung to the reassuring chorus of refusal, then felt the certainty shred and fade away.

  “How much?” she asked carefully at last.

  “Not very much. Not enough to hurt anyone.” Sara glanced guiltily at the door, waiting for Mickey or Rozokov to interrupt them. Wishing that they would. But the door stayed closed and she looked back at her sister’s pale, desperate face. There was no sign in her of the cool, savage woman gloating about the night in the asylum. “Sara, if anything were to happen to him, I’d be alone. Forever. These last three months have been like a terrible dream, a dream that terrifies you and thrills you until you can’t tell if you want to wake up or keep dreaming. And it’ll go on and on . . . for years, for centuries, forever. If I lose him again . . .” she shuddered, her grip on Sara’s hand tightening cruelly, “it would have been better for them to have killed me.”

  For a moment, Sara wanted to pull away, to retreat from Ardeth’s terror, from the implications of her words. I should have let you stay lost. The thought stabbed through her then dissolved into pain. I asked you to come home. And even if you can’t, I still owe you whatever I can give. “All right. What do I have to do?”

  “Just this.” Ardeth drew her hand up, turned it to bare the wrist. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.” Sara felt the warm mouth touch her skin and managed to hold down her sudden revulsion. There was a brief, sharp pain then nothing but the sensation of pressure and the heat of Ardeth’s mouth. See, no worse than giving blood, she told herself resolutely, no different at all. Of course, there’s nobody to give you cookies and orange juice afterwards but that’s all right, ’cause it really doesn’t hurt at all. . . .

  And then the door opened.

  I wish to Christ somebody would tell me what’s going on around here, Mickey thought wearily, watching Rozokov and Takara. The air stank of gunpowder, smouldering wires . . . and something worse. His stomach turned over ominously but he decided it didn’t matter—he didn’t have anything in it to throw up anyway. And now on top of everything else, Rozokov was talking about killing more people, including the one who had helped them. Rooke’s voice echoed in his mind: “Of course he killed them. You don’t have any idea what he is, do you?”

  She knows though, he thought with mutinous envy, watching Takara’s face as she looked up at Rozokov. But on the heels of that thought came another, darker one: if Takara and the others had to die, what did that mean for Sara and him?

  He shifted the gun in his arms uneasily. He had felt a guilty pleasure at his wild destruction of the computers, and even the way it had spooked Rozokov, but what would he feel if the old man said the scientists had to die? And if he didn’t agree, what was he prepared to do about it?

  At last,
Rozokov smiled sadly and lifted his shoulders in a resigned shrug. “But who would believe you anyway, if you chose to tell the truth?”

  Mickey saw Takara’s rigid spine slump in relief. She bowed her head and then stepped past Rozokov to kneel beside the man clutching his injured shoulder. Mickey felt his own shoulders ease down, his death grip on the gun relax.

  Rozokov retrieved the videotape, turned it curiously in his hand for a moment before the long fingers broke it in two with chilling ease. He tossed it to the floor by Rooke’s body and looked at Mickey. “Is there more ammunition for your weapon?”

  Mickey looked down at the sub-machine gun still clutched in his hands and fought the urge to laugh. He’d emptied the clip into the computers, his finger frozen to the trigger by his terror of losing control of the deadly thing jerking in his hands. Good thing you didn’t have to make any big moral decisions . . . not with only an empty gun to enforce them. He dropped the weapon and retrieved Rooke’s gun from his belt.

  He looked back at Rozokov. “There’s just this.”

  “Come, then. Let’s find Ardeth and Sara.”

  As he left the room, Rozokov behind him, Mickey heard voices rising in argument, Takara urging flight, a man suggesting they just lock the door again and wait for the police. I’m with you, lady, Mickey thought with an inward grin. But nobody ever listens to me either.

  Ardeth and Sara weren’t in the hallway, so he tried doors until one opened beneath his hand and he stepped inside. He saw Sara first, face turning towards him as the light from the hallway spread across them. Ardeth was stretched on her side on the couch, holding Sara’s hand against her face. As she lifted her languid gaze, Mickey saw her eyes spark red.

  Like a lion looking up from a kill. The thought seared through him, burned away the half-hearted rational explanations struggling to form in his mind. Images flashed by with quick-cut intensity: Ardeth’s eyes in the alley, Rozokov sleeping beneath trees, his strange, sharp-edged smile. On the sound track was Rozokov’s voice . . . and Rooke’s . . . and Takara’s. They called them vampires—they still do. . . . Of course he killed them, that’s what he does. . . . There are monsters, after all.