HORROR THRILLERS-A Box Set of Horror Novels (72 page)

Ross paused and
removed his lips from the old man's throat. He looked deep into the
man's eyes and saw there a kindred spirit, someone so much like
himself that it was like seeing a mirror image. "All right,"
he growled, blood dripping from his lower lip. "I'll give you
immortality. And you will give me whatever I ask, forever."

"Yes,"
Upton whispered hoarsely. "Anything. Everything. Forever."

Ross sank his fangs
again for the third time, forcing back the old man's head, bringing
him just to the brink of death, feeling his heart beat slower and
slower. Then Ross drew back and dropped Upton to the floor. He'd been
tempted to kill him anyway, but the thought of what he'd been
promised stopped him at the last moment.

When Ross turned,
he saw Mentor standing in the open doorway.

"Now what have
you done?"

"You want some
of this? You're ready to end what we began?" Ross snarled,
moving forward.

Mentor took him by
the arms and threw him out the door and onto the porch, following in
a blur.

Dell, unhurt,
entered the house and knelt with George over the old man. He was
bleeding profusely from the neck. George tried to cover the wound,
but blood welled beneath the palm of his hand and rivered to the
floor.

The old man opened
his eyes. "I'll be like them," he said. "I'll live
forever now. Don't worry, George, don't worry."

Dell looked for
Ryan and found him cringing in the corner. She took his hand, lifting
him, and pulling him with her to Upton. She stooped down, felt of the
old man's heart.

"You shouldn't
have come for me," she said, sorry for him now. He was crazy and
sick and old and he probably would have killed her—except now
she realized she never would have permitted him to do that. With him
prostrate on the floor in a pool of his own blood, she could sense
the depth of his despair, his terrible longing for life, and she
respected that about him. He was human. At least for the moment. He
should not die this way.

She heard the
sounds of struggle outside the house and left the old man, rushing to
the door to see about Mentor. "Stop it!" she screamed.
"Ross, stop it!"

Ross had Mentor on
the ground, pushing his face in the dirt. Wind whipped Ross' coat
jacket away from his body and slicked his hair to his head. He turned
to her, teeth bared, eyes like coals, and he growled.

Dell felt all the
anger rise within her that had been building ever since she died. It
had been lying in wait, crouching within her, eager to spring to the
forefront of her consciousness. It came on her in a tremendous wave.
It felt red and fiery; it felt slick and red and bloody.

She looked around
and saw Ryan watching the scene, frozen in place. He was caught in a
nightmare that might never end. She must do something to stop it.

She leaped from the
door across the broken porch, past the steps, and landed on Ross'
back. She dug her hands into his shoulders, clawing at him. Her fangs
locked on the back of his neck where it was exposed just above his
collar.

Ross howled and
tried to throw her off. She tasted blood, warm blood, the first she'd
ever tasted and it filled her with images of great rivers, deep
gorges, endless caves, dark, dark, dark woods where the moon shone
scarlet and the wind carried death on its feathery wings. She bit
down harder, seeking a vein, hunting for it the way a mole will dig
through earth, making a tunnel toward a tasty root. She jerked her
head this way and that, her eyes closed tightly, rending the flesh
beneath her teeth with a viciousness that welled straight from her
soul.

Ross fell off
Mentor and twisted, taking her by the hair and pulling with all his
might. Dell knew nothing, felt nothing but hunger. She felt no pain
from the tearing of her hair from her scalp, no fear of the huge
Predator who was more powerful than any who might have lived. She
meant to kill him and take his blood. She'd find the vein, she'd bite
down until she reached it, and then he would be hers.

Lightning struck
her in the head, or that was what it felt like, and she was flung
across the ground, rolling like a tumbleweed. Mentor stood over her,
glaring and pointing. "You stay here," he said. "You
are not to engage in battle."

Blood dripped from
her lips and down her chin. Her tongue snaked out and she licked it
clean, then she smiled. "If he touches you again, I'll be sure
to kill him."

Mentor turned
swiftly to Ross. Dell saw he was up now, a hand to the back of his
neck. He was hunched over. She knew she'd hurt him. If Mentor hadn't
intervened, she might not have taken his life, but she wouldn't have
stopped trying. Her arms felt as if they were made of steel. Her body
felt as strong as stone. Her mind swirled with the aftertaste of his
blood. Though she thought they were all cold and dead, it wasn't
true! His blood had been warm and alive. It still tingled on her
tongue and through her veins, giving her strength and the desire to
take more.

Ross said, "I
ought to kill your little protégée for that."

"She thought I
was in danger."

Ross laughed and it
was a terrible sound, competing with the wind that howled around the
eaves of the old house.

"You can leave
now, Ross. I'll handle this." Ross turned to look through the
doorway into the lantern-lit house.

"You made him
vampire. Go now. You've done a terrible thing."

Ross scowled at
Mentor then he looked with new, bright anger at Dell. "You'd
better do something with her," he said. "If I ever come
across her alone, she's mine."

"Handle your
own business, Ross. I am the master in this region. If I have to,
I'll get you replaced."

"You'll try to
kill me, you mean. You're nothing but a weak old man, Mentor. You
should never threaten me."

Ross raised his
hands, his coat whipping out behind him, and leaped to the rooftop of
the house. From there he shouted at the sky, "He is Master, he
says! We shall see about that!"

Dell came to her
feet, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She watched as Ross
rose high into the sky, not bothering to transform, but flying like a
bird, holding his arms out, his legs together and sailing faster than
the human eye could see above the plowed fields into the starry
night.

She turned away and
saw Ryan standing on the old porch. She went to him and took his
hand. "I'm sorry you had to see all this," she said.

Mentor patted the
boy on the shoulder as he went into the house. He found the servant
still hovering over the old man, holding a hand to the wound Ross had
made.

"You,"
Mentor said, standing over the servant. "Get in the car and
leave this place."

George looked at
him in fear, but as Mentor stood there, George's face grew lax and
still, expressionless. Dell watched from the doorway as Mentor
performed his magic on the other man's memories, clearing them,
making him forget.

George rose, and
Mentor took his elbow gently, leading him to the door. He watched
until the man opened the car door, got inside, started the motor, and
drove away. Then he turned back for the old man.

"What are you
going to do with him?" Dell asked. She hunched her shoulders at
what Mentor's answer might be. She did not want to have to fight him.
Though Ross' blood still gave her the feeling of superhuman power,
she knew that she was no match for Mentor.

"I'm going to
help him change over. Ross made him one of us. Now . . . I have to
help him. Get out of here, Dell. Take your young man. Go wait
outside."

Dell watched a
moment before leaving. She felt guilty and relieved all at once. She
saw Mentor sit down by the body and place his hand on the old man's
bandaged forehead.

So that is what he
did for me, she thought. When I died. And now the man is dying, too,
and he will be vampire. Just as he had hoped. Just as he'd wanted.

He has been granted
his last wish because of me.

~*~

Charles Upton
swooned into a dream as the huge vampire snatched him up and sank
fangs into his neck. He fought, an instinct he couldn't help, trying
to free himself from the vampire's embrace. His mind screamed out in
denial that it was happening. Though he'd dreamed of it, hunted for
it, and lusted for it the way another man might lust for fame or
fortune or a woman, when it actually began to occur, he wanted to get
away from it. He felt his life leave him by increments, moving from
his old body into the firm young body of the vampire. He could not
fight him off, could not free himself, couldn't even cry out for
help.

I don't want to
die, he thought finally, in the last seconds of his dying throes. I
want to be like you, like you, make me like you and together we'll
rule the world. . . .

And then all was
darkness. Someone sat nearby him and commanded that he rise. He sat,
opening his eyes and looking around. It couldn't be heaven and his
companion was not an angel. He was in a frightful place that merely
resembled Earth but he knew it was not. It was somewhere he did not
want to be.

"Help me,"
he cried, turning and clutching the old man's hand who sat beside
him. "Help me, mister. Who are you?"

"I am Mentor,
and I've come to guide you. What kind of soul do you have?"

"I am a good
man . . ."

"You are a
cruel, ruthless, sinful man. I suspect that is your soul showing, but
I may be wrong. What kind of soul do you have, Mr. Upton?"

Upton heard
something rustling not far away and he turned to see. There were bare
trees all around and dark, thick forest debris where he sat. It
crawled with things. He could feel them beneath his skinny buttocks,
could sense them moving and wriggling through the leaves and
decomposed matter, seeking his flesh. He scrambled to his feet. The
rustling he'd heard strengthened and turned into the roaring sound of
a locomotive. He began to tremble and clutched Mentor's hand so
tightly his fist hurt. "What's that?" he whispered.

"Look up,"
Mentor instructed.

Upton looked beyond
the stands of bare limbs at the night sky and the full red moon. It
began to melt and drip. "Eiiii!"

"You are in
the place of the Predator Maker. He is coming for you. Shall we flee?
Do you want to stay and wait for him, Mr. Upton? It's up to you.
There are other choices, less violent choices."

Upton was immobile,
his hand clutched around Mentor's hand. He saw the thing coming now.
It bore down on them from the woods, rushing through the trees with a
long wailing cry. It was as large as the world. It was taller than
trees, greater than the bloody moon. It blocked out the stars and the
heavens above. Upton could not move. He could feel its power. He knew
he wanted it. He wanted this thing to invade him, to take him to its
bosom and whisk him to its home.

"I urge you to
flee," Mentor said, gently prying Upton's hand loose so that he
could step back. "If you stay, you will be his."

The beast was
nearly upon them. It was dressed in layers of black that were more
night than cloth. A hood covered its head and from beneath it eyes as
large as fists shone yellow bright. Below the eyes all that could be
seen were white, glistening teeth, teeth as sharp as razors, rows and
rows of them that went back into the horrid head to a pit of
darkness.

Upton fell back and
threw out his arms. "Go ahead and take me!" he screamed. "I
am yours!"

Mentor stood by
silently, his head bowed. He would not watch while the Predator took
the old man and made him. He had never been able to watch. It had
happened to him when he'd first died and he could not watch it when
others invited the Predator into their souls.

When it was
done—the gurgling and frightful moans, the rattles of death and
the susurration of last breath—Mentor watched the corpse for
new life. The old man's eyes opened but a slit and within them was a
wicked glint. From out of their depths Mentor saw the new hunger.

"Come along,"
Mentor said. "It's over. It's time to rejoin the world."

The old man opened
his eyes in the body on the floor of the abandoned house. Light from
the lantern reflected off his eyeballs, causing them to appear milky
white. He sat up stiffly, ran his hands up each arm, down each leg,
over his face. Then the fingers of his right hand slipped into his
mouth and he felt of his teeth, his tongue, the roof of his mouth. He
removed his fingers and looked at Mentor. His voice was changed,
stronger and fearless. "Glory be, I am like you," he said.