The Immortal Rules (12 page)

A clang from Kanin’s direction showed him holding up a large, double-bladed ax, before he laid it aside and moved on to another shelf.

One box caught my attention. It was long and narrow, like the other boxes, but instead of words, it had strange symbols printed down the side. Curious, I wrenched off the lid and reached in, shifting through layers of plastic and foam, until my fingers closed around something long and smooth.

I pulled it out. The long, slightly curved sheath was black and shiny, and a hilt poked out of the end, marked with diamond pattern in black and red. I grasped that hilt and pulled the blade free, sending a metallic shiver through the air and down my spine.

As soon as I drew it, I knew I had found what Kanin wanted.

The blade gleamed in the darkness, long and slender, like a silver ribbon. I could sense the razor sharpness of the edge without even touching it. The sword itself was light and graceful, and fit perfectly into my palm, as if it had been made for me. I swept it in a wide arc, feeling it slice through the air, and imagined this was a blade that could pass through a snarling rabid without even slowing down.

A chuckle interrupted me. Kanin stood a few yards away, arms crossed, shaking his head. His mouth was pulled into a resigned grin.

“I should have known,” he said, coming forward. “I should have known you would be drawn to that. It’s very fitting, actually.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, holding up the sword. “What is it, anyway?”

Kanin regarded me in amusement. “What you’re holding is called a
katana.
Long ago, a race of warriors known as the samurai carried them. The sword was more than a weapon—to the samurai, their blades were an extension of their souls. It was the symbol of their culture and their most prized possession.”

I didn’t really need the history lesson, but it was pretty cool to think that there was an entire race of people who’d carried these once. “What happened to them?” I asked, sheathing the sword carefully. “Did they all die out?”

Kanin’s grin grew wider, as if he was enjoying his own private joke. “No, Allison Sekemoto. I would say not.”

I frowned, waiting for him to explain, but he stepped back and motioned me to follow. “If you’re going to carry that blade,” he said as we headed back through the maze of aisles and shelves, “you’ll have to learn how to use it. It is not a pocketknife you can just swing in circles and hope it hits the target. It is an elegant weapon and deserves better than that.”

“I don’t know, swinging it in a circle sounds like a pretty good trick to me.”

He gave me another of his exasperated looks. “Having a weapon you do not know how to use is better than not having one at all, but not by much,” he said, ducking through the door and entering the narrow hallway. “Especially when dealing with vampires.
Especially
when dealing with older vampires who already know how to fight—they’re the most dangerous. They’ll cut off your head with your own blade, if you’re not careful.”

We came to the metal grate he’d pulled up earlier, and Kanin dropped out of sight, back into the sewers. I clutched my new prize to my chest and followed.

“So, are you going to teach me, then?” I asked as I hit the ground.

“Oh, I’m afraid he won’t be teaching you anything, girl,” a cool voice said from the darkness. “Except, perhaps, how to die a horrid and painful death.”

I froze, and in that second, two figures melted out of the darkness of the tunnel, smiling as they came to stand before us. I knew instantly that they were vampires; pale skin and hollow eyes aside, I could sense, in a strange, unexplainable way, that they were just like me. In the dead, bloodsucking sense, at least. The woman’s dark, curly hair tumbled elegantly down her back; she wore heels and a business suit that hugged her body like snakeskin. The man was lean and pale, all sharp points and angles, but he still managed to fill out his suit jacket. And he stood over six feet tall.

Kanin went rigid. A tiny movement, and the knife appeared in his hand.

“You’ve got some nerve to show your face here, Kanin,” the female vampire said in a conversational tone, smiling and showing perfectly white teeth. “The Prince knows you’re here, and he wants your head on a platter. We’ve been sent to oblige him.” She stepped toward us, oozing forward like a snake. Her bloodred lips parted in a smile, showing fangs, and she turned her predatory gaze on me. “But who’s this little chick, Kanin? Your newest protégé? How charming, continuing your cursed bloodline. Does she know who you really are?”

“She’s no one,” Kanin said flatly. “She doesn’t matter—the only thing you need to worry about is me.”

The vampiress’s grin grew savage. “Oh, I don’t think so, Kanin. After we remove your head, we’ll drag your little spawn back to the Prince and watch him take her apart, piece by piece. Isn’t that right, Richards?”

The male vampire still didn’t say anything, but he smiled, showing his fangs.

“How does that sound, chicky?” the female vamp said, still smirking at me. “Don’t you feel special? You can have your heart removed and eaten by the Prince of the city himself.”

“He can try,” I shot back and felt my own fangs lengthen as I bared them in a snarl. Both vampires laughed.

“Oh, she is a firebrand, isn’t she?” The female vamp gave me a patronizing look. “One of those disgusting Fringers, I take it? I simply love your affection for hopeless cases. But then, that’s what got you into this mess in the first place, isn’t it?”

Her companion reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thin, foot-long blade. It was a delicate weapon, slender and razor sharp, made for precision. Somehow, it seemed more frightening than if the vampire had drawn an ax or even a gun.

“Allison,” Kanin muttered, stepping in front of me, “stay back. Don’t engage them. Don’t try to help me, understand?”

I growled, gripping the sheath of my katana. “I’m not afraid of them. I can help.”

“Promise me,” Kanin said in a low, tense voice. “Promise me you will not get involved.”

“But—”

He turned, pinning me with a cold, frightening glare. His eyes had darkened to pure black, hollow and depthless, with no light behind them. “Your word,” he almost whispered. I swallowed.

“All right.” I looked down, unable to meet that unnerving gaze. “I promise.”

He reached down and grasped the hilt of my katana, drawing it in one smooth motion as he turned to face his attackers. “Go,” he told me, and I backed away, retreating behind a cement pillar as Kanin gave the katana a wicked flourish and stepped forward.

The female vamp hissed and sank into a crouch, stretching the fabric of her suit. I saw her nails then, very long and red and sharp, like giant talons, digging into the pavement. She hissed again, looking more like a beast than anything remotely human, and sprang forward.

Kanin met her in the center of the room, the katana whirling through the air. They moved faster than I could follow, slashing, whirling, leaping back and lunging forward again. The female vamp moved like some kind of mutant cat, springing at Kanin on all fours, even in high heels, raking at him with her claws. She was insanely fast, ducking the sword, leaping over it, teeth flashing as she shrieked and screamed and danced around him. Watching them fight, a cold feeling spread through my gut. I’d seen brawls before, even participated in a few. This wasn’t a brawl; this was a brutal, screaming free-for-all between two monsters. I couldn’t have beaten her, I realized with a sick feeling in my gut. Kanin was doing fine, fending off her attacks and striking back, vicious blows that barely missed the snarling whirlwind of death, but she would’ve torn me apart.

I was so focused on the female vamp, I didn’t see the other vampire until he was behind Kanin, that thin, sharp blade moving to take off his head. I started to yell a warning, cursing myself for not seeing him sooner: the female was a colorful, lethal distraction while her partner moved in silently for the kill. But before I could say two words, Kanin’s hand shot out, grabbed the female by the hair as she shrieked and clawed at his face, and threw her into her partner. They hit each other with a sickening crack. The male vampire stumbled backward, wincing, while the female vampire crumpled to the ground.

I thought that was it for her. The force Kanin had generated could’ve put a hole through a brick wall. But a half second later, the vampiress stirred and rose to her feet, shaking her head. She didn’t even look dazed.

Now I was scared. I was certain the fight had been half over, but both enemy vamps approached Kanin again, smiling. Kanin waited patiently, the sword at his side. Blood streamed down the side of his face where the vampiress had clawed him, but he didn’t seem to notice it. As they got closer, they split off, circling him from different directions. He raised the sword, circling with them, but he couldn’t watch them both at the same time.

As expected, the vampiress attacked first, bounding in with a growl, and Kanin spun toward her. But halfway there, she stopped, leaping away, and the male vampire lunged at Kanin’s open back.

Faster than thought, Kanin whirled, slashing at the second attacker, a blow that was vicious and powerful, but also left his back unprotected again. The male vampire ducked away, grinning, as the vampiress turned on a heel and flew at Kanin once more, silent and deadly. I saw the triumph in her eyes as she leaped at him, fangs bared, claws slashing down at his neck.

Kanin didn’t move. But I saw the point of the blade turn as he spun it around and stabbed
backward,
passing it against his ribs, and the vampiress’s lunge carried her right onto the tip, which went out through her back.

The vampiress screamed, equal parts fury and pain, and ripped at Kanin’s shoulders. He stepped forward and in one quick motion, drew his other blade, yanked the sword out of the vamp’s stomach and spun, cutting off her head.

The head bounced twice, then rolled toward me and stopped a few feet away, glaring up with a frozen snarl. I shuddered and looked back toward the fight, where Kanin was still facing the remaining vampire. It roared, fangs bared, and lunged at him with the knife stabbing at his chest. Kanin took one step back, sweeping both arms forward in a scissoring motion as the vampire came within reach, cutting through its head and chest. The head fell away and the body split open, and the vampire crumpled to the pavement, nearly cut in two.

I bit my cheek, pressing my face against the pillar to avoid being sick. I didn’t have much time to recover, as Kanin swept up and hauled me away, thrusting the sword back into my arms.

“Hurry,” he ordered, and I didn’t need encouragement this time. We raced back to the hospital, where Kanin told me to stay put and not leave the underground until I heard from him again.

“Wait. Where are you going?” I asked.

“I have to go back and dump the bodies,” he replied. “Somewhere on the surface, to lead the Prince away from the tunnels. Also, I’m going to have to feed before the night is out. Stay here. I’ll be back before dawn.”

He leaped up the elevator shaft, vanishing into the darkness, leaving me alone. I drew my sword, staring at the blood marring the once-pristine blade, and wondered what demons Kanin was running from.

Chapter 7

In the weeks
that followed, my nights settled into a routine. I would wake up at sundown, grab my sword and find Kanin in the office. For a few hours, he would lecture me on vampire society, history, feeding habits, strengths and weaknesses. He would ask me questions, testing my knowledge of things I’d learned the night before, pleased when I remembered what I was supposed to. He also insisted on teaching me math, writing down simple and then more complex equations for me to solve, patiently explaining them when I couldn’t. He made up logic puzzles for me to struggle through and gave me complex documents to read, asking me what they meant when I was done. And though I hated this, I forced myself to concentrate. This was knowledge, something I might be able to use against the vampires someday. Besides, Mom would’ve wanted me to learn, though I wasn’t sure when long division would ever come in handy.

While I worked, Kanin read, shuffling through documents, sometimes bringing in more boxes of papers to sift through. Sometimes, he would read an entire stack of paper, carefully setting each aside when he was done. Sometimes he would only glance at a pile of documents before crumpling them impatiently and shoving them away. As the days passed, he grew more impatient and agitated with every sheet he crumpled in his fist, every wad he threw across the room. When I got up the nerve, once, to ask him what he was looking for, I received an annoyed glare and a terse command to keep working. I wondered why he hadn’t left the city yet; the vampires were obviously out there, looking for him. What was so important that he would risk staying down here in this dark little ruin, going through endless files and half-burned documents? But Kanin kept me so busy with learning everything he thought was important—vampire history and reading and math—that I didn’t have the time or brain capacity to wonder about other things.

And really, I could respect that. He had his secrets, and I had mine. I wasn’t about to go poking around his private life, especially when he didn’t ask
me
anything about my past, either. It was sort of an unspoken truce between us; I wouldn’t pry, and he would keep teaching me how to be a vampire. Anything that didn’t have to do with survival wasn’t that important.

After midnight was my favorite time. After several hours of straining my brain, getting bored and irritated and feeling as if my head was about to explode, Kanin would finally announce that I could stop for the night. After that, we would make our way to our floor’s reception area, which he had cleared of debris and chairs and broken furniture, and he would teach me something different.

“Keep your head up,” he stated as I lunged at him, swinging my sword at his chest. At first, I was a little worried, fighting him with a live blade. It shocked me, how quickly I could move, so fast that sometimes the room blurred around me, the sword weighing next to nothing in my hands. But Kanin made it clear that he was in no danger, after the first lesson left me crumpled in my bed for the rest of the night, bruised and aching, freaky vampire healing or not.

Stepping aside, Kanin rapped me on the back of the head with a sawed-off mop handle, not lightly. My skull throbbed, and I turned on him with a snarl.

“You’re dead,” Kanin announced, waggling the dowel at me. I bared my fangs, but he wasn’t impressed. “Stop using the blade like an ax,” he ordered, as we circled each other again. “You’re not a lumberjack trying to hack down a tree. You’re a dancer, and the sword is an extension of your arm. Move with the blade and keep your eyes on your enemy’s upper body, not their weapon.”

“I don’t know what a lumberjack is,” I growled at him. He gave me an annoyed look and motioned me forward again.

I gripped the hilt, relaxing my muscles.
Don’t fight the sword,
Kanin had told me on countless occasions.
The sword already knows how to cut, how to kill. If you’re tense, if you only use brute strength, your strikes will be slow and awkward. Relax and move with the blade, not against it.

This time, when I attacked, I let the blade lead me there, darting forward in a silver blur. Kanin stepped aside, swatting at my head with the dowel again, but I half turned, catching the stick with my weapon, knocking it aside. Pushing forward, I let the sword slide up toward Kanin’s neck, and he instantly fell backward to avoid being cut in the throat.

I froze as he rolled to his feet, looking mildly surprised. I blinked at him, just as shocked as he was. Everything had gone by so fast; I hadn’t even had time to think about my actions before they were done.

“Good!” Kanin nodded approval. “You can feel the difference now, can’t you? Let your strikes be smooth and flowing—you don’t have to hack at something to kill it.”

I nodded, looking at my blade and feeling, for the first time, that we had worked together, that I wasn’t just swinging a random piece of metal around the room.

Kanin tossed the dowel into a corner. “And, on that note, we should stop for the night,” he announced, and I frowned.

“Now? I was just getting the hang of this, and it’s still early. Why stop?” I grinned and brandished the sword, shooting him a challenge down the bright metal. “Are you scared that I’m getting too good? Is the student finally surpassing the master?”

He raised an eyebrow, but other than that, his expression remained the same. I wondered if he had ever laughed, really laughed, in his entire unlife. “No,” he continued, motioning me out of the room. “Tonight we’re going hunting.”

I slipped the katana into its sheath on my back and hurried after, excitement and uneasiness fighting within me. Ever since the encounter with the vampires, over three weeks ago, we hadn’t left the hospital grounds. It was too dangerous to roam the tunnels now, too risky to venture up top, where anyone could see us. I had fed about two weeks ago, when Kanin had given me a thermos half filled with cooling blood when I woke up. He hadn’t said where he’d gotten it, but the blood tasted thin and grimy and somehow reeked of mole men.

I was eager to leave the hospital, with its dank rooms and claustrophobic hallways. I grew more restless with every passing night. The thought of hunting sent a thrill through me, but I was also scared that I would turn into that snarling, hungry creature from the night with the Blood Angels. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to control myself, and I would end up killing someone.

And, deep down, a part of me didn’t care. That was the scariest thing of all.

We went up the elevator shaft and moved quickly through the neighborhoods, wary and suspicious of roaming vampires or guards. Several times, Kanin turned off the street and pulled us into an alley or abandoned building, blending into a dark corner. A trio of guards passed us once, so close that I could see the pockmarks marring one guard’s cheek. If he’d turned his head and pointed his flashlight into the alleyway, he would’ve spotted us. Another time, a pet surrounded by two well-armed soldiers stopped and stared at the doorway we had ducked into seconds before. I could see his eyes narrow, trying to pierce the darkness, listening for any sound of movement. But, one thing about being a vampire, I discovered, was that you could go perfectly still and remain that way for as long as you needed. Kanin even had me practice this little talent back in the hospital. I would stand in a corner for hours, never moving, never breathing, having no need to shift or cough or blink. Even when he started lobbing his dagger at me, thunking it in the wall inches from my head, I wasn’t supposed to twitch an eyelash.

After a couple close calls, Kanin led me onto the roof of a building, over the chain-link fence separating the districts, and into a familiar neighborhood. I recognized these streets, the shape of the buildings crumbling on the sidewalks. I saw old Hurley’s Trading Shop, the scraggly, weed-choked park with its rusty, sharp playground that nobody went near, the lot between the warehouses where they’d hung the three Unregistereds what felt like ages ago. And I knew if we took
that
shortcut through the alley and crawled through a rusty chain-link fence, we’d find ourselves at the edge of a cracked, deserted lot with an empty, abandoned school in the distance.

This was Sector Four. I was home.

I didn’t mention this to Kanin. If he knew where we were, he might make us leave, and I wanted to see my old neighborhood again, in case I ever needed to come back. So I followed him silently through familiar streets, past familiar buildings and landmarks, feeling the school lot get farther and farther away. I wondered if my room was still intact, if any of my old possessions were still there. My mom’s book came to mind; was it still safely hidden in its crate? Or had the school been claimed by another, all my stuff stolen or traded away?

Kanin finally led me toward an empty-looking warehouse on the outskirts of the neighborhood, an ancient brick building with smashed windows and a roof that had partially fallen in. I knew this place; it was Kyle’s turf, the rivals of my old crew. We’d competed for food, shelter and territory, but in a mostly friendly way, one group of scavengers to another. There was an unspoken truce among the Unregistereds; life was hard enough without violence and fighting and bloodshed. On the streets, we acknowledged one another with a nod or quick word, and occasionally warned each other about guard sweeps and patrols, but for the most part we left the other groups alone.

“Why are we here?” I asked Kanin as we crept along the crumbling walls, stepping between glass and nails and other things that could clink and give us away. “Why don’t we just head into Blood Angel or Red Skull territory and take out another gang?”

“Because,” Kanin said without looking back, “word spreads on the streets. Because we left those men alive, other gangs will be on the lookout for a young girl and a lone male who happen to be vampires. They will be wary, but more important, the Prince’s guards will be watching gang territory closely now. There are always consequences for your actions. Also—” he paused and turned to me, eyes narrowing “—how did you know where we are?” A moment of silence, and he nodded. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

Damn. The vampire was way too perceptive. “This was my sector,” I confessed, and Kanin frowned. “I lived not very far from here, at the old school.”
With my friends,
I added in my head. Lucas and Rat and Stick, all gone now, all dead. A lump caught in my throat. I hadn’t thought of them much before this, willing myself to bury the pain, the guilt that still clawed at me. What would’ve happened if I had never found that basement of food, if I’d never insisted we go after it? Would they still be alive? Would
I
still be alive?

“Stop it,” Kanin said, and I blinked at him. His face and expression were cold. “That part of your life is gone,” he continued. “Put it behind you. Do not make me regret giving you this new life, when all you can do is cling to the old one.”

I glared at him. “I wasn’t clinging,” I snapped, meeting his steely gaze. “I was remembering. It’s this thing people do when they’re reminded of the past.”

“You were clinging,” Kanin insisted, and his voice dropped several degrees. “You were thinking of your old life, your old friends, and wondering what you could’ve done to save them. That sort of remembering is useless. There was nothing you could have done.”

“There was,” I whispered, and my throat unexpectedly closed up. I swallowed hard, using anger to mask the other emotion, the one that made me want to cry. “I led them there. I told them about that basement. They’re dead because of me.”

My eyes stung, which was a complete shock. I didn’t think vampires could cry. Angrily, I swiped at my eyes, and my fingers came away smeared with red. I cried
blood.
Fabulous. “Go on, then,” I growled at Kanin, feeling my fangs come out. “Tell me I’m being stupid. Tell me I’m still ‘clinging to the past,’ because every time I close my eyes, I can see their faces. Tell me why I’m still alive, and they’re all dead.”

More tears threatened at the corners of my eyes, bloody and hot. I whispered a curse and turned away, digging my nails into my palms, willing them back. I hadn’t cried in years, not since the day my mom died. My vision tinted red, and I blinked, hard. When I opened my eyes again, my sight was clear, though my chest still felt as if it had been squeezed in a vise.

Kanin was silent, watching me as I composed myself, a motionless statue with empty, blank eyes. Only when I looked up at him again did he move.

“Are you finished?” His voice was flat, his eyes a depthless black.

I nodded stonily.

“Good. Because the next time you throw a tantrum like that, I will leave. It is no one’s fault that your friends are dead. And if you keep holding on to that guilt, it will destroy you, and my work here will be for nothing. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly,” I replied, matching my tone to his. He ignored my coldness and nodded to the building, gesturing through a shattered window.

“A group of Unregistereds live here, though I suspect you already know that,” he continued. “As to your previous question, I chose this spot because Unregistereds are off the system and no one will notice if one or two go missing.”

True,
I thought, trailing him through the weeds.
No one ever misses us, because we don’t exist. No one cares if we disappear, or cries for us when we’re gone.

We slipped through one of the many broken windows, vanishing into the darkness of the room. Rubble had piled everywhere in large drifts, creating a small valley of open space in the center of the building.