Department 19: Zero Hour (57 page)

“Can you tell us what happened to you?” asked Engel.

Gregor frowned. “Why should I do that?”

“It would be helpful for us,” said the German Operator.

“Would it?” asked Gregor. “I cannot see how. I was bitten, but I did not die. When I awoke, I was different. I presume this is a process you are all familiar with.”

Engel tried again. “There is a belief that something out of the ordinary happened to you.”

“Who believes that to be true?”

“There is a prophecy—”

Gregor boomed with laughter, cutting her off. “Prophecies are for fools,” he said. “Stories to tell around campfires. Are you saying that you, men and women of science and technology, have sought me out because of some whispered legend?”

Jamie frowned. “Why else would we be here?” he asked.

Gregor faced him. “To ask me to fight,” he said. “On your side in the war that is coming. Is that not the case?”

“Yes,” said Larissa, her eyes glowing at the corners. “That’s right. What do you say?”

“Shut up, Larissa,” said Petrov.

Gregor’s welcoming expression disappeared, replaced by narrowed eyes and a set of the jaw that turned Jamie’s insides to water. The old vampire turned slowly towards Petrov. “Do not speak to her like that in my presence,” he said, his voice the slow ice of a glacier. “I will not have it.”

Petrov stared at the first victim, their gazes locked together. There was silence, sudden and thick with the possibility of violence, until Larissa spoke. “It’s all right,” she said. “He’s our squad leader. It’s OK.”

Gregor narrowed his eyes even further, until they were little more than glowing crimson slits. Then he opened them, and the smile returned to his face as he nodded at Larissa. “Forgive me,” he said. “I do not like men who behave uncivilly towards women, and my temper has always been a weakness.”

You and me both,
thought Jamie, and smiled.

“What happened to the man you carry?” asked Gregor, and nodded towards the wooden stretcher that held the body of Tim Albertsson.

“I think you know,” said Larissa, her eyes darkening.

“As I said,” said Gregor, his smile widening. “Men who threaten women make me angry.”

Jamie’s eyes widened with sudden understanding.

Larissa had been telling the truth; she didn’t kill Albertsson.

The first victim did.

Relief swept through him, closely followed by guilt at his failure to entirely trust his girlfriend’s innocence.

What did Albertsson do to her, though?
he wondered.
What made the first victim kill him? What threat did Tim make?

The thought made his skin itch with anger, and he found himself momentarily, viciously glad that the American was dead. He immediately pushed the feeling away, demanding better of himself, ordering himself to stay calm, and returned his attention to Gregor. But to his left, it became instantly clear that Van Orel had reached the same conclusion as him.

“
You
killed him,” said the South African, his voice low and full of outrage. “While he slept. Like a coward.”

Gregor’s eyes narrowed again, and darkened to a pulsing crimson. “Careful,” he said. “Be very careful.”

“Why?” asked Van Orel, his voice rising. “In case you kill me too? In case you kill us all? You know damn well we couldn’t stop you, so do it if you’re going to. Bloody well get it over with.”

Petrov shot a furious glance at Van Orel, its unspoken message abundantly clear.

Shut the hell up. Control yourself.

“Is that what you want?” asked Gregor, softly. “To die?”

Van Orel laughed. It was an ugly noise, high and rasping; it sounded like something inside him was on the verge of breaking. Jamie stared helplessly, then saw movement in the corner of his eye, and felt his heart stop in his chest.

Engel had raised her T-Bone and was pointing it directly at the first victim’s heart.

“You killed him,” she said. “And for what?
Because he was uncivil?
Ridiculous.”

“Do not point your gun at me,” said Gregor.

Jamie gasped. The first victim’s voice had lowered to a depth and bass that shook the ground beneath his feet. Engel trembled visibly, but did not lower her weapon.

“Why not?” she asked, her voice unsteady. “You are a murderer, and I do not face murderers unarmed.”

There was a blur, and then the first victim was standing in front of Engel, his hand gripping the barrel of her T-Bone, his eyes blazing. She shrieked as he jerked the weapon out of her hands and hurled it towards the distant wall of trees, where it disappeared into the gloom.

“I told you,” he growled, leaning his face in close to hers, “not to point your gun at me. You are in my home.” Then there was a second blur, and the vampire was again standing on the porch of his cabin, his gentle smile restored.

Petrov turned and glared at his squad with eyes full of warning. “The next one of you who talks,” he said, “I will shoot myself. Is that clear?”

Engel looked at her squad leader, her eyes wide and full of shock. She opened her mouth to say something, or possibly simply to burst into tears, but Petrov raised a single gloved finger in her direction. The German Operator stared at it, then closed her mouth, her face a mask of misery. Jamie watched the silent exchange, then returned his attention to Gregor, who appeared to be waiting politely for them to conclude their business. Petrov pointed his finger at each of his squad mates in turn, before turning back towards the cabin.

“You built this place,” he said.

“I did,” said Gregor. “It took many years, but time is not something I have lacked.”

“You do not like visitors,” said Petrov. “The wall. The traps. The dead animals.”

“You are most perceptive,” said Gregor. “And you are correct. I have taken steps to ensure my isolation. The people of this corner of the world are superstitious fools, and fear keeps them away. The forest is itself a natural shield, as satellites and planes find it hard to see beneath the green. And the wall stands before anyone with the determination to make it this far. You, my friends, are only the second people ever to find their way here.”

“There’s more, though,” said Larissa, ignoring the glare that Petrov gave her. “Isn’t there? My vampire senses don’t work here, not properly. Some of it is the forest itself, the darkness, the plants and trees. But I think some of it is deliberate. I think some of it has to do with your underground room.”

Gregor smiled. “You found the tunnel?”

“We did,” said Larissa. “What are the machines that are down there?”

“Communications disruptors,” said Gregor. “Signal blockers and scramblers. A white-noise generator. One or two other things.”

Larissa’s eyes flared. “A white-noise generator?” she growled. “So that’s why I haven’t been able to hear properly. I thought I was going crazy.”

“I am sorry,” said Gregor. “I’m afraid that is exactly why I installed it. To discourage other vampires, like yourself.”

“Yet you let Grey live,” said Petrov, trying to regain control of the exchange. “The old vampire you mentioned. Why? You must have known others would come.”

“It would have been easier to kill him,” said Gregor. “Far easier. But the truth is, I did not want to. I am not a fan of death.”

“You killed Albertsson,” said Engel. The words sounded like sobs.

“I occasionally make an exception,” said Gregor.

“And you didn’t really care whether anyone else came,” said Jamie. “We could have brought a thousand men in here and it wouldn’t matter. You know we can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Gregor shrugged. “You are correct, of course,” he said. “Although such a prospect gives me no satisfaction. In my experience, little good comes from the use of violence.”

Jamie looked up at the old vampire, and realised something with sudden certainty. He smiled. “You’re not going to help us,” he said. “Are you?”

Petrov fixed him with eyes like daggers, but he ignored his squad leader; he kept his gaze fixed on the first victim.

Gregor shook his head. “No,” he said. “I am not going to help you.”

“Why not?” cried Engel. “You happily kill a man for some minor offence, yet you won’t help us destroy the greatest evil that has ever walked the earth? What possible reason could you have for refusing?”

“Why would I feel compelled to explain myself to you?” said Gregor. “You and your friends will fight Dracula, and I am sure you will fight well. I wish you success. But it is not my fight.”

“You’re a coward,” said Jamie, his voice low and full of anger. “That’s all you are. A bloody coward.”

Gregor turned to face him, a tiny smile of incredulity on his face. “What did you say?” he asked.

“You heard me,” said Jamie. “You know how powerful Dracula is, and you have more reason to hate him than anyone else on earth. If he isn’t stopped, if he’s allowed to rise to his full strength, then thousands of people will die, maybe millions. But you don’t care about them, do you? You only care about this prison you’ve made for yourself.”

“I admire your passion, my friend,” said Gregor, his voice suddenly low and dripping with danger. “I genuinely do. But I would advise you to think carefully before you speak again. I have made my feelings on rudeness clear.”

Jamie grunted with laughter. “Right,” he said. “You made it clear that you have no problem killing a man for insulting a woman, and equally clear that you won’t help us prevent a global genocide. So what am I supposed to make of that? Tell me.”

Gregor’s eyes churned with crimson. He growled, a low sound that rumbled through the forest floor.

“Lieutenant Carpenter,” said Petrov, his voice sounding eerily similar to Paul Turner at his angriest. “You will not say another word. Not a single one. Is that absolutely clear to you?”

Jamie faced the Russian, fury and bitter frustration roaring through him, searching for release. Engel and Van Orel were staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, Larissa with a fierce smile full of clear and obvious pride. He bit his tongue, hard, and tasted warm, coppery blood in his mouth.

Then he nodded.

“I am asking you to reconsider,” said Petrov, turning instantly back to face Gregor. “You have made this place your home, and perhaps you think that nothing can touch you here. Perhaps you are even correct. But if Dracula rises, he will burn everything to ash. Can you be certain that you will be spared?”

The first victim sighed deeply. “I made a decision a long time ago,” he said. “An amount of time that you cannot imagine, that is only numbers to you. And that decision was to withdraw from the world that you inhabit. I watched everyone I loved grow old and die, even the ones who drove me away when it became clear what I had become. Wars have come and gone, some of them on my doorstep, and I have stayed here. Genocides have scarred humanity, time and again, and I have stayed here. Because, when you have lived a life measured in centuries, it is hard to care about petty squabbles. So I will not fight. Not for you or anyone else.”

Petrov didn’t respond.

“What if you didn’t have to?” said Larissa, suddenly.

“I am sorry?” said Gregor.

“Fight,” said Larissa. “What if you didn’t have to fight?”

The first victim narrowed his eyes. “Go on,” he said.

Larissa stepped forward, the eyes of Petrov and her squad mates following her closely. “We know more about vampires now than we ever have,” she said. “There’s a theory, named after a friend of mine, which I believe. It explains why some of our kind are stronger than others.”

Gregor said nothing, but gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head.

“Old vampires make more powerful vampires,” continued Larissa. “Something happens as we age, an evolution that alters the liquid that coats our fangs. I was turned by the vampire you met, who is believed to be the oldest in Britain. As a result, I am faster and stronger than most, even though it’s barely three years since I was turned.”

“Make your point,” said Gregor.

“Any human being turned by you would become an incredibly powerful vampire,” said Larissa. “Not instantly, but very quickly. Maybe even strong enough to fight Dracula, especially if there were more than one of them. All we would need would be samples of your blood and the plasma on your fangs. That might be enough. You could stay here, away from everything, and still have saved the world.”

“Maybe so,” said the first victim. “But I’m afraid my answer remains the same.”

“You animal!” shouted Engel, her voice high and wavering. “You cruel man!”

“What if I took them from you?” growled Larissa, ignoring her squad mate.

Gregor smiled gently. “You could not,” he said. “And you know you could not. Please do not try.”

“I feel sorry for you,” said Jamie. “I really do.”

The first victim turned towards him, his eyes darkening. “I have warned you once already,” he said, his voice a thunderous rumble. “Do not make me do so again.”

“What does it matter?” said Jamie, smiling narrowly. “If you don’t help us, Dracula wins. And if Dracula wins we all die. So pardon me for not giving a shit about your warning.”

Gregor growled, but said nothing. His narrow, glowing eyes had settled firmly on Jamie, who swallowed hard, trying not to let his fear show in his face or voice.

“You won’t fight,” he said. “Fine. If you don’t want to risk your life, you don’t think what’s coming is worth that, that’s up to you. No problem. But to refuse to give us even the slightest chance of an advantage, even though it would cost you nothing? That is cowardice. That is
bullshit
.”

Gregor tilted his head to one side. “You are truly not afraid?” he said.

“I’m afraid,” said Jamie. “I’m terrified. But not of you.”

“You truly would do anything to stop Dracula? To prevent his rise?”

“Yes,” said Jamie.

“No matter the cost?”

“Yes.”

The first victim smiled. “I believe you,” he said. “You have the insolence and stupidity of youth, and you would do well to learn to respect your elders. But I believe you mean what you say. And I cannot pretend not to sympathise with your cause, even though I will not allow you to milk me like some beast of burden. But I will help you.” He paused, looking directly at Jamie. “I will give you what you want.”