Read The Path of Razors Online
Authors: Chris Marie Green
The Path of Razors (8 page)
But, tonight, the tuner had been used to imprint a new fear on Della’s subconscious. Mind-to-mind via the implement, the new caretaker had vaguely shared only three of the tales that were given to each family member upon a
custode’s
calling. Della’s own imagination would fill in the blanks of the purposely blurred faces, providing her own boogeymen.
custode’s
calling. Della’s own imagination would fill in the blanks of the purposely blurred faces, providing her own boogeymen.
Providing the fright that would make her the perfect conduit to whip Mihas and the Underground back into shape.
And Della should be afraid, really, with what Claudia was doing to the unaware girls in private. But, with success in this plan, the housematron’s sins would be the very thing to bring about her downfall.
The
custode
would have seen to everything personally, but that would involve too much individual risk. Yet secretly implanting the tales in Della meant that the schoolgirl would never be able to reveal how she received her information, should she be asked. Although the keeper would have to be careful about manipulating her through the fear that would result as the tales turned her against Claudia.
custode
would have seen to everything personally, but that would involve too much individual risk. Yet secretly implanting the tales in Della meant that the schoolgirl would never be able to reveal how she received her information, should she be asked. Although the keeper would have to be careful about manipulating her through the fear that would result as the tales turned her against Claudia.
Hopefully.
Certainly, though, there was a bit of rule bending involved with this strategy. But if this gamble resulted in removing Claudia from the Underground and shaking up Mihas, thus making him a stronger blood brother, the end would certainly justify the means.
The newest
custode
would bet the house on it.
custode
would bet the house on it.
Nigel was lending one last glance to the screens, most of which had been furtively tooled to pick up images from CCTV cameras in London’s surveillance network, plus a few key lenses of the Underground’s own. Although the
custodes
couldn’t manipulate most of the cameras themselves—they could only see what the lenses were showing—the tellys revealed everything from views in the Queenshill dorm, where the vampire schoolgirls had lived, to feeds from places like Highgate, above the main Underground.
custodes
couldn’t manipulate most of the cameras themselves—they could only see what the lenses were showing—the tellys revealed everything from views in the Queenshill dorm, where the vampire schoolgirls had lived, to feeds from places like Highgate, above the main Underground.
By combing through past footage, day by day, the
custodes
had been attempting to discover the whereabouts of the attackers, but they were having no luck, especially with the lack of anything such as facial recognition capabilities.
custodes
had been attempting to discover the whereabouts of the attackers, but they were having no luck, especially with the lack of anything such as facial recognition capabilities.
Yet it could only be a matter of time before they found something among the thousands of hours they’d captured.
While inspecting what they’d cultivated so far, they
had
come upon recordings that had been clouded for some reason, including the footage from cameras on the Queenshill campus last night. The fogged images, in fact, resembled the malfunctions from the night Charles had died while investigating the same clouded camera feeds at and around Billiter Street. Unfortunately, the
custodes
had been immersed in Relaquory—an every-night activity not to be deserted at any cost—during the goings-on at Queenshill, and it was only when they had returned to the monitor room to review the footage that they had noticed a pattern.
had
come upon recordings that had been clouded for some reason, including the footage from cameras on the Queenshill campus last night. The fogged images, in fact, resembled the malfunctions from the night Charles had died while investigating the same clouded camera feeds at and around Billiter Street. Unfortunately, the
custodes
had been immersed in Relaquory—an every-night activity not to be deserted at any cost—during the goings-on at Queenshill, and it was only when they had returned to the monitor room to review the footage that they had noticed a pattern.
Quite the coincidence.
Quite the clue that, perhaps, these attackers were more than they seemed.
“Our present situation is this,” Nigel said. “Shortly after you checked in on the schoolgirls—”
The
custode
didn’t flinch at the assumption that the hotel visit had been all about checking in rather than implanting tales.
custode
didn’t flinch at the assumption that the hotel visit had been all about checking in rather than implanting tales.
“—a camera showed one of them, Violet, appearing on the roof of the hotel and then running off in a burst of speed to who knows where. We’ll have to slow down our recordings to isolate her image, camera by camera, and discover her destination.” Nigel offered his associate the chair. “Claudia hasn’t contacted me about this disappearance yet, and I’m not certain she even realizes the situation since she left the girls alone in the hotel so she could spend precious time with Mihas.”
The new
custode
noted the slightly mocking way in which Nigel had mentioned Claudia and Mihas. Interesting.
custode
noted the slightly mocking way in which Nigel had mentioned Claudia and Mihas. Interesting.
“But,” Nigel added, “we do need to act since Violet seems to have taken great pains to avoid detection for some reason.”
Violet, the little bitch of the crowd. The sort of girl who made life pure hell, and it had been hard to watch how she treated everyone around her this past week. “You don’t think she’s merely off somewhere pouting after another fight with Della?”
“No matter her intention, she shouldn’t have left in the first place. Our alert system”—a feature that highlighted particular screens and allowed the
custodes
to focus on where their vampires were when aboveground—“tried to keep up with her, but she moved faster than she usually does when the girls are outside on their own. It’s possible that Violet even halted on the outskirts of the city, or in a place where there are no cameras. That would explain the reason the alert system hasn’t isolated her by now.”
custodes
to focus on where their vampires were when aboveground—“tried to keep up with her, but she moved faster than she usually does when the girls are outside on their own. It’s possible that Violet even halted on the outskirts of the city, or in a place where there are no cameras. That would explain the reason the alert system hasn’t isolated her by now.”
With his fluid
custode
way of slipping across a room, he moved toward the exit. “And since there aren’t cameras everywhere, I’ll go afield to see if I might locate Violet. If nothing pans out, I’ll check on Queenshill later. You stay Underground to access and slow down that footage from around the hotel, because you might be able to piece together a lead.”
custode
way of slipping across a room, he moved toward the exit. “And since there aren’t cameras everywhere, I’ll go afield to see if I might locate Violet. If nothing pans out, I’ll check on Queenshill later. You stay Underground to access and slow down that footage from around the hotel, because you might be able to piece together a lead.”
“But—” began the new keeper.
Big Brother held up a hand. “One of us must always stay Underground. You know that. No exceptions.”
Yes. Right. There were only two of them.
Always two.
And, with that, he was gone, the black automatic door sliding shut behind him.
The
custode
stood there, feeling the chiseling buzz of the atmosphere, feeling a ripping sensation digging into every pore because of what resided down here with them.
custode
stood there, feeling the chiseling buzz of the atmosphere, feeling a ripping sensation digging into every pore because of what resided down here with them.
But this was life now—the lot of the Meratoliage family—and the
custode
accepted that, sinking into the chair’s leather comfort while the monitors flashed with activity.
custode
accepted that, sinking into the chair’s leather comfort while the monitors flashed with activity.
One of the screens was rimmed with red, highlighted by their alert system, and the keeper saw that it came from the camera trained on the hotel where the schoolgirls were.
Nigel had obviously been keeping an eye on it while going through other footage to find Violet on the smaller console screens. But there was a different reason this particular telly caught the new
custode’s
attention.
custode’s
attention.
Della was standing at the window, staring out at the waking sky.
The caretaker pushed a button that connected directly to this camera, and the lens zoomed in to magnify Della. The glass of the hotel’s window provided an eerie sheen over the girl’s frizzy hair, the intense expression on a face that was otherwise so sweet and innocent.
What was dear vampire Della doing?
The
custode
could only hope that the last implanted tale—the one given the most emphasis during the tuning—was emerging in Della, flickering in snippets that would make more sense to her with each passing hour.
custode
could only hope that the last implanted tale—the one given the most emphasis during the tuning—was emerging in Della, flickering in snippets that would make more sense to her with each passing hour.
A most bloody, beware-little-girl story that, mixed with the others, would awaken Della to what was really happening in her safe little Underground ...
ONCE upon a few hundred years ago, on a path that stretched far into the woods, a lone figure ran and ran, slicing his way to where the moon couldn’t peek through the branches and the scent of blood was like crushed berries staining the air.
The aroma grew thicker, and the figure halted, dust clouding around his boots as he froze, sniffing.
Searching.
He was a vampire, his facial features blurred by the night. A creature carrying a limp girl—an unconscious pile of long blond hair and bunched wool from her cloak—over his shoulder.
Again, the creature sniffed the night, shuddering as saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth to his chin.
Then, his eyes aglow, the vampire darted off the path and into the foliage, which held branches that clawed past his slight beard and razored straight to his skin, leaving gashes that screamed in pain.
Yet by the time he reached the cottage in the woods, his skin had already healed to pale smoothness, to a hue that could even be mistaken for human, with the correct amount of artifice.
The creature crashed through the door, the spill and splash of blood hitting his senses as he fought the instinct to become animal, as he battled the urge to feast on what the scent offered.
Instead, he controlled his overwhelming tremors while scanning the darkness with a bright gaze that cut right through the pitch of night.
He looked past the blood on the walls and floor, the ash-strewn hearth, the shattered wooden table, the mangled bodies of village men who had taken up axes and farm tools to enter the woods and hunt what they deemed a monster.
There. In a corner. Another blood-soaked body—one that had survived.
The one that had created all this carnage.
The trespasser lunged toward that body, dropping to his knees at the other vampire’s feet. Around them lay the carcasses of wolves and other animals that the wounded creature on the floor had summoned for aid—an ability that both vampires wielded as personal talents.
Although the night would have obscured the other creature’s face to anyone else, every feature was vivid to the first vampire. Besides, the other’s hollow, sharp breathing was all too agonizingly familiar.
“Even from home, I heard your call for healing....” The first one’s words faded to a whisper. “What have they done to you this time?”
The wounded vampire attempted to smile, his fangs, which had not yet receded, bathed with evidence of blood play. His wild hair, grown long and free during his time away from Versailles, was matted with gore from the head injuries that were healing all too slowly. His clothing-the justaucorps, cravat, vest, breeches, silk stockings, and elegant buckled shoes he wore with such arrogant pride at court—was torn and ruined with red.
Worst of all, his face was caught between his pure hunting form and the more human one he used to masquerade among his prey.
He is too weak to shift back into regular shape, the first vampire thought.
Yet the injured vampire would never admit that he had almost been beaten by the angry humans this time. That sort of pessimism did not exist for him.
Rather, he held up a white ribbon soaked with her blood. The latest young female conquest’s.
“You will be the death of us all,” said the first vampire, allowing his own poached village girl to tumble from her resting place on his shoulder and to the ground, where her hair spread like bright rays over her closed eyes. She had fainted when the creature had met her on the dusk-lined path that fringed the village, where she had been intending to meet with a boy, no doubt.
The wounded vampire began to laugh in flagrant disregard of the danger he had invited, but his mirth was cut short as he sucked in a deep breath of agony.
The first vampire felt his comrade’s pain, sharing it, as the ribbon fluttered from his companion’s fingers to land over the hair of the prone village girl.
“This is no laughing matter,” the first creature said, reaching out to touch his blood brother’s face.
The injured vampire avoided the contact, turning away. “From what we hear, the dragon himself takes risks far greater than the both of us, my friend. Do not be so alarmed.”
Something seemed to sink within the first vampire as he hesitated, his hand still in the air. Then the creature schooled his expression to blankness while touching his comrade’s head, whether his friend wished for the soothing contact or not.
Like this, the creature healed his friend’s wounds, gash by gash, although every closing of an injury drained him of more energy.
Eventually, the wounds were in such shape that the injured vampire’s own body could take over the healing. He leaned his head back in clear relief, his fingers glowing as he touch-healed the more minor cuts on his face, his chest.
The first vampire took the limp girl in his arms again and watched his friend.
“If you are not torn apart by wrathful villagers,” he said, “then this questionable lack of discretion is bound to slay you nonetheless.”
The second vampire raised an eyebrow.
“I refer in particular to your mistress at court,” added the first creature, his voice tight. “She is sure to guess at your excesses one night.”
“She waits for me to return from my time in the country as any other kitten would
—
unsuspecting and innocent.” He grinned, a predator biding his time in the dark. “Isn’t that so? They all wait because they cannot resist us.”
—
unsuspecting and innocent.” He grinned, a predator biding his time in the dark. “Isn’t that so? They all wait because they cannot resist us.”
The first vampire ignored the cutting jibe, thinking instead on the word “us.”
Blood brothers. Powerful, enthralling, insatiable. Nothing seemed enough for any of them: never enough blood, enough gluttony, enough ...
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