Of Masques and Martyrs (25 page)

“How do
you
know you can . . .” Roberto repeated, sneering. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

“Sebastiano Battaglia, Commander Roberto Jimenez,” Cody said quickly, then gestured toward the brunette fang-girl. “And this is Erika Hunter; she and Rolf were a couple. And now that the introductions are out of the way, Berto, let me ask you an important question.”

Cody dragged the single chair inside the small tent over next to Roberto’s cot and sat astride it, leaned his elbows on the back of the chair, and fixed the commander with an intense stare.

“It isn’t that I don’t trust you, understand,” Cody said bluntly. “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have agreed to come here. But I know you think of us—Peter and me and the few others of us that you’ve actually met, that you actually know—as . . . oddities, I guess. Exceptions to your own rules about vampires.

“My question is, if we gave you a weapon you could use to cripple vampires, making them easy to kill, how do we know that you’ll work with us to make sure our own loved ones aren’t targets?”

Behind Cody, Sebastiano and Erika seemed to tense up, as if they were preparing to attack. Roberto forced himself to ignore them. It was clear they wouldn’t do anything without Cody’s or Allison’s say-so.

So he focused instead upon Will Cody’s question. Turned it over in his mind. Was tempted to ask what this weapon was, but knew they wouldn’t answer him. Not yet. The hell with diplomacy, he decided.

“Honestly?” he began. “You don’t know anything of the sort. Even if I promise you, you won’t know. But I’ll tell you this much: if this weapon can be mass produced, if it can be stored and used at our convenience, I’d be more than happy to coordinate any attack with you, Will. If your people act up later, we can always go after them then.”

Cody glanced at Allison, then at the other two. None of them seemed to offer any commentary whatsoever, but Cody seemed pleased.

“All right,” Cody said. “I think we can live with that.”

“Our coven is headquartered in New Orleans,” Allison began.

“Yes, I know,” Roberto replied.

Allison raised an eyebrow. It was all the comment Roberto needed. She understood that he’d stayed away thus far. For what it was worth, it would certainly make them trust him more.

“Hannibal is probably there already. He’s taken his entire New York clan, and maybe some from other cities, and has somehow found a hiding place in New Orleans. Tonight, at dusk, he’s going to try to wipe out our entire coven,” Allison explained. “He’s been planning this for a while, but your attack on Atlanta spurred him on.”

Roberto frowned. “How do you know all of this?” he asked.

“Long story,” Cody replied. “The point is, it’s tonight. You’ve only got hours to duplicate the serum we’ve brought, so let’s not waste any more time.”

“Agreed,” Roberto replied. “So where is this serum? And what does it do?”

The vampire girl who’d been introduced as Erika produced a small steel case Roberto hadn’t noticed before.

“Here,” she said, stepping forward. “Let me show you.”

She held the case in front of him and opened it, her back to the others. Roberto’s eyes widened as he looked inside.

The case was empty.

“What kind of game are you playing?” he said angrily, all thoughts of vengeance, of quickly wiping the vampires from the face of the Earth, dissipating in a single moment. “Stop wasting my time.”

But then Commander Jimenez saw the effect his words had on the other shadows, saw the surprise on Will Cody’s face. He glanced at Erika and caught the smirk on her face.

Then she was behind him, in an instant, the metal case clattering to the ground.

Cody and Allison began to shout at her, but the white-haired vampire, Sebastiano they’d called him, merely stood and stared.

“Shut up!” Erika screamed. “Both of you!”

She had a long nail pressed to the flesh of his throat. It pinched a little, and he felt the warmth of blood streak his neck.

“Erika!” Allison shouted. “What the hell are you doing?”

Commander Jimenez said nothing. If the girl was going to kill him, there was nothing he could do to stop her. He locked eyes with Cody a moment, then the old scout and hunter turned to look at Erika again.

“I’m sorry,” Erika said, but Roberto didn’t think she meant it.

“This was the plan all along,” she admitted, and then let loose a small chuckle, barely noticeable really, which told Berto something he really didn’t want to know.

The girl was insane. Maybe not maniacally so, not jumping around like a lunatic. But mad, just the same.

—MELISSA ETHERIDGE, “The Angels”

 

 

 

 

NIKKI STARED AT KEVIN, EYES NARROWED with an anger she found it difficult to express. They stood in the middle of a small study, which Nikki guessed had once been the office of the convent’s mother superior. The study had become the center of a flurry of activity since before dawn, when the plans Kevin, George, and Kuromaku had made began to take effect.

Elsewhere in the convent were more than a hundred fresh corpses, waiting to rise into a new life in the shadows. Out in the city, every coven member who could be spared was searching for Hannibal’s daylight resting place. After all, there weren’t many places where one might hide hundreds of sleeping vampires. Warehouses, abandoned office structures, public buildings, and the like. A boarded-up pornography theater had seemed an ideal spot, but had turned out to be empty.

In the neighborhood around the convent, word was being spread that something horrible was coming. That anyone interested in continuing to live should find somewhere else to spend the night. Bethany had begun contacting the owners of certain businesses nearby, many of whom Peter and Joe and Will had known well, before the events of the past week. A silent alarm was being sounded, but it was impossible to determine who might respond. If the owners of a bar or restaurant did not want to close up for the night, who could blame them?

If pressed, Nikki would have to admit that she was surprised Kevin had been able to accomplish so much in such a short amount of time, even with George and Kuromaku helping with the details. It was barely noon, after all.

But now George had gone to his room to rest, exhausted from the long night’s events. He was growing old very quickly now, she thought. Seemed, in fact, to be aging before their eyes. Nikki hadn’t known the man long and, when it came right down to it, he wasn’t even really
that
old. Not in today’s terms. But he did not look well. Not at all.

So here she was, stuck with Kevin. He was an admirable man. Loyal and committed, striving to live up to impossible standards, just praying that he could help keep his race alive until morning. And hoping, of course, to have revenge for his slaughtered lover.

Nikki understood all those things, and gave Kevin the respect he deserved. And she understood, as well, the reason for his appalling lack of tact when it came to one particular topic of conversation. But she wasn’t going to stand for it.

“For the last time,” she said through gritted teeth, “the answer is no. I don’t care what you say, or how many reasons you give me, I refuse.”

“We need you, Nikki,” Kevin insisted. “Every last person counts, don’t you get it? And if you were with us, the others might feel that, in a way, maybe Peter was with us too.”

Nikki snorted with laughter. “Oh, Jesus, that’s low. Not to mention that you’re really fucking reaching with that one, Kevin.”

He glared at her.

“No, really,” Nikki continued. “I mean, I barely know the guy. Sure, I was attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? And it isn’t that I don’t care; I do. About Peter, and about the rest of you as well. I’m not some unfeeling bitch. But you don’t have any idea what you’re asking.”

“Yes, I do,” Kevin said quietly, folding his arms in front of him.

“No,” she said, shaking her head as she grew even angrier. “No, you don’t. I’m sorry for what’s happened to you, and I admire what all your volunteers are doing today. But I’m not going to be one of them, do you understand? I have a life, goddamnit. One life. I’ve seen too many people give theirs up, to drugs or suicide or even depression . . . fuck, even just laziness. I’ve seen lives wasted.

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste mine. One life is good enough for me, Kevin. I don’t want immortality, and I sure as hell don’t need a blood addiction after evading coke and heroin for so long.

“I don’t blame you for asking, Kevin. But no means no, for Christ’s sake. No means no. You were dying when your time came, Kevin. You didn’t have a real choice, not a fair one. I’m sorry about that. But I do!

“I choose life,” she said grimly and turned to stalk out of the study, silently daring him to speak.

At the door, she glared at him again. “How dare you?” she spat.

Striding from the room, she nearly walked right into Caleb. The look on his face and the speed with which he moved alarmed her instantly.

“What is it?” Nikki whispered.

Caleb looked at Kevin, glanced at Nikki, then back at Kevin again.

“The cocoon,” Caleb said, his voice hoarse. “Something’s moving inside.”

“Get George,” Kevin barked.

Then he was up and running past Nikki down the hallway. Caleb looked at Nikki a moment longer, then turned to follow. Nikki couldn’t breathe. She wanted to follow, though she knew she’d never keep up, not if they weren’t making an effort to wait for her. But she couldn’t follow. She couldn’t do anything.

She had begun to care for Peter, that much was true. But the thought of seeing what was going to emerge from that cocoon frightened and nauseated her all at the same time. None of them knew, that was the disturbing thing about it. None of them had any idea what to expect.

Any more than she did.

That was the thought which got her legs moving. None of them knew. But each of them, she was sure, had secretly thought of several possibilities. None of the ones Nikki had considered were very pleasant. And yet, curiosity was a great motivator. Curiosity and fear. Fear for Peter. She didn’t know if she loved him. Didn’t know if she could love one of—one of them.

But she was frightened for him, and she just had to know.

By the time she ran from the house into the courtyard, shielding her eyes from the brightness of the day, a small group had gathered around the black cocoon, there amidst the deep green and the rainbow of flowers. The smell of the garden and the earth was very strong that day.

There weren’t very many people left in the house, not counting those volunteers who’d yet to rise, so Nikki was the last to run into the garden.

The cocoon had cracked and flaked at its base, where it was attached to the path and the bench. Its outer layers had whitened, like dead skin, and begun to peel. It was more brittle than ever. But as far as Nikki could see, those were the only changes in the thing.

Then it moved! Or rather, something inside it moved, pressing against the outer shell like a baby against its mother’s belly.

Caleb appeared at her side.

“Where’s George?” she asked, noting the distinct sound of panic in her voice.

“He wasn’t in his room,” Caleb replied.

“He should be here,” Nikki said, but made no move to go look for him.

None of them did. It was impossible to look away.

A crack appeared in the top of the cocoon, near the center. What appeared to be a hand snaked through. But it wasn’t a hand like any Nikki had ever seen. White and gossamer, it was almost like the mist the shadows could become, but more solid than that. More purposeful. Ghost fingers tore at the cocoon, widening the hole from the inside.

“God, what’s happened to him?” Nikki whispered.

Then, though the hole in the cocoon was still far too small for a human body to crawl through, another hand appeared next to the first. What dragged itself from the cocoon had some resemblance to Peter, at least in its face. In its eyes. But it was a wraith, a spectre modeled after Octavian but containing none of his real presence. His self.

It looked around at those gathered by the cocoon, eyes resting at last on Nikki. It smiled.

“Peter?” she asked weakly.

Then, so quickly as to be almost invisible to her, it shot into the sky above the convent and disappeared into the clouds. Became one with them, perhaps, since it seemed to have almost the same consistency. They all stared into the sky, and nobody spoke.

Nikki was aware of a sadness, somewhere inside her, trying to break free. Her brain was telling her that Peter was gone, that she would never see him again. That whatever he’d become was not for her to experience. But her heart was so full of joy, a bliss brought by the wraith’s appearance, that such despairing thoughts were kept at bay. Suddenly she was filled with hope and love and patience.

“What was it?” a voice asked from behind her, and for the first time she realized that Kuromaku had joined them outside.

“It was . . . it was beautiful,” Kevin murmured.

“An angel,” someone whispered.

Nobody argued.

“His soul,” she said suddenly, though it was only a guess. “I think it was his soul.”

“If that was his soul, where is his body?” Kuromaku asked, clearly less affected by what they’d all seen than the others.

There came a sudden snarl from inside the cocoon. As one, they turned their attention on the cracked and flaking shell of the thing. Whatever they’d just seen hadn’t been alone in there. Something still moved inside the chrysalis.

Black claws slashed the length of the cocoon from the inside. Nikki jumped back several feet, screaming. Where the thing’s claws dug in, despite its dessicated appearance, the cocoon appeared to be bleeding ever so slightly.