Voice of the Undead (17 page)

Chapter 27

“One freaking drop,” came the voice from the haze. He blinked his eyes and felt the sting of his contact lenses, swiveling them around. His head was singing like crazy, and the voice of Elle boomed in it and reverberated with the concussive echo of Steven's blow. Vampire could throw a sucker punch.

“One . . . freaking . . . drop!” came the voice again, screaming this time, and he shook fully awake, aware that she was screaming in his ear before he saw her there.

“Oh, Elle, you'll be the death of me,” Alex said, so close that he could smell the strange mixture of death and mint that vampires all seemed to have for breath. He looked past her and saw a giant cloth wall stretching up endlessly, a sheet. He'd spent so much time surrounded by sheets lately, but this was an industrial kind, probably made of heavy wool and wax.

His arms were above his head, Alex realized, and he looked up to see that they were tied together with rope. The rope extended up to some sort of hinged boom or crane, fifteen feet above his head. Then he looked down.

He was twenty feet off the ground, his feet barely touching an iron beam. Below, he saw a wooden pier, and black water lapping against it. The water extended a hundred yards across to another pier.

He was in a boatyard of some kind, for building and fixing boats and rolling them back out onto the lake. Down below, on the dock, the Merrill brothers waited, watching as Elle continued haranguing him from her perch on the iron beam next to him.

She had gotten rid of the leather coat and was wearing Scholomance whites, with tight leggings and little white leather boots, and a tight wrap around her body that ended in a pulled-back hood. “If you hadn't shed that one drop, we'd be
done
by now.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked honestly.

“I'm talking about
Claire
,” Elle said. “It was all supposed to happen that night. She'd be back to lead us—to lead
me.
And I was
ready
for that.”

Alex blinked against the sweat on his brow, feeling some of it stream into his eyes. He blinked as it swished around, threatening to unseat his contacts. “The skull-headed lady?”

“The new queen is not a skull-headed lady,” Elle said, eyes blazing. “That was just her way in. And she needed blood. And she got some—from you. And then, you little insect, you got away before she could finish.”

Alex lost his footing for a second and sank with the rope before finding it again. Yes, okay. He had it now. That night at the Villa Diodati, Icemaker
had
cut him, briefly. The cut on his neck that had taken a few weeks to heal. “Elle, I have no idea what you're talking about. Icemaker
barely
cut me.”

“One drop,” she repeated.

It was possible. He thought back, forcing himself back to the night in the cellar, the skeletal form behind the veil. Icemaker had lifted him up with one strong arm and put a sharp fingernail to his neck, hissing, “She needs more blood.” And he'd cut. And then Paul had arrived.

Hey, Paul, now would be a good time.

“Blood is blood, isn't it?” Alex said. “Right?” But of course not. Or else Elle wouldn't be this bonkers about it.

“Oh, I'm afraid not,” Elle said. “Once you were part of the sacrifice it had to be you that finished it. I had to haul the queen back to the Scholomance myself and hide her away like a
doll
because she wasn't done yet.”

“Ahhhh,” Alex said, staring into her insane eyes. “That's what you wanted my blood for. That's why you sent the Glimmerhook, to suck it up.”

“As long as you
died
it was supposed to be fine. The Scholomance would have been happy, and I would have your blood.”

Alex looked around. “I don't see any resurrected queens here. Well, there're the Merrills.”

“Hey!” Bill shouted.

“You're gonna love working with him,” Alex said to Elle.

“I'm not taking you down to
her
,” Elle said. “The administration won't allow it; they've completely lost interest in resurrecting Claire.”

This was what Sangster had heard about the Scholomance. The project for Claire had been canceled. Because they didn't have the blood they needed, and they'd moved on.

“Maybe she's not a queen, Elle,” said Alex with a hint of desperation. He glanced at Elle's stance. Maybe he could kick her. But she was firmly rooted and it would have to be a perfect shot. “I mean, Claire was just a girl that Icemaker wanted to rule with. She wasn't that special.”

“Liar!” she screamed.

Alex studied her face, the blue blood within raging underneath the skin at her forehead. “What do you care? You're a psychopath by nature and she's not a queen.”

“Where'd you learn that, from a book? What do you know about Claire?”

“I actually get this secondhand, but there's a guy who knows everything about it all and if you cut me down, I can go get him.”

“No, I'll just take the blood,” she said. She drew a dagger from her belt.

Alex eyed the blade, long and silver, like the ones she had given to the girls in the woods. She spun it in her fingers and he watched the muscles in her alabaster forearm ripple.

This is bad. Ask the questions.

What's going on?

I'm tied up. She's gonna cut me.

What do you have?

I have myself.

He kicked out at her and Elle zipped away, then slashed out, slicing through the cloth of his tuxedo and sending three ridiculously expensive pearl buttons into the deep.

“Hey! Shouldn't you be out trying to catch Montrose again? I thought you and Ultravox were busy with that.”

“Montrose?” She snorted. “You think we brought in a player like Ultravox over
Chatterbox
? You morons really are full of yourselves. You can snoop all you want, Alex. You can't keep up with us. Ultravox has bigger fish to fry.”

“But—” Alex said, realizing he sounded completely taken aback.
Get that under control, think, think.

Stickiness as blood began to ooze from the shallow cut. God, that stung. He worked his hands and felt the icy tingle of them going numb.
Bigger fish to fry. Because he's an assassin. He's still here and he's got bigger fish, bigger than scientists. Bigger like politicians.

“The ball,” Alex spat, suddenly realizing it. The ball would be full of visiting dignitaries, all on a boat with their teenage children—many of whom had already been programmed to kill. “He's here to stop the treaty, the information treaty.”

“And you missed it.” Elle clicked her tongue.

“But why do vampires care about an information-sharing treaty?”

“Oh, Al, I swear when people start talking about treaties I want to shave my own head with a cheese grater,” Elle said. “Now where were we?”

Alex tried to stall her. “You gonna spill nine pints all over the dock?”

Her nostrils flared for a moment as she caught the scent of his blood. Her eyes took on a sensuous look and she spun the knife again. “Nope.”

“You can't waste it.”

“Bring out the bowl,” called Elle.

Down below, the Merrills pulled the blanket off a stand that looked like a generator, but now he saw was a rolling table with an enormous white collecting bowl.

“Ah, another bird feeder.” They rolled the bowl down the dock, a couple of vampiric Vanna Whites, the lovely assistants of Elle the vampire. They brought it to a stop below him and worked together to line it up. They seemed to take a moment disagreeing over where it would be perfectly plumb.

Not good. Dammit,
what do you have?

“Merrills!”

They looked at him, satisfied with the placement of the bowl. “I think that's it,” said Bill.

Think.
Steven was injured. Nobody came.

“Seriously, you couldn't get through on the phone? That sucks,” Alex said.

“People are bound to disappoint,” Bill said evenly.

Alex looked at Elle. “You guys sent the withdrawal papers?”

“We take care of our own,” Elle said.

“And so how did you block Bill's calls?”

Elle blinked. “What?”

“It's a lie, Bill,” Alex cried. “You listening?”

“Shut up. Come on, boss, let's drain this guy.”

“Oh my God, you're such a chump,” Alex said, nearly delirious, as Elle tried to decide whether to cut him open from stem to stern or start with a throat cut. “Bill, get real, your parents didn't abandon you. She
blocked your calls.
She wanted a couple of simpleminded Igors she could boss around and you fit the pattern.”

Steven looked up and spoke, finally. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I saw a
care package
for you
from your parents
stuffed into the garbage at the hospital,” Alex rasped as Elle brought the knife close.

“That's it,” Elle said, bringing the dagger back for the swing.

“She made sure you wouldn't get it so you'd do this,” Alex shouted.

Down came the knife. Alex closed his eyes.

Something heavy landed on the beam. It was Bill, pushing Alex to the side. Alex swung wild into the air on the boom, spinning.

“Is this true?” Bill was saying.

“Hey . . .”

“Is that
true
?” he cried.

Alex yanked on the rope and screamed as it bit into his wrists, whipping his body once, twice, and then finally he was head over heels, wrapping his ankles around the rope. He let the rope dig into his ankles, some of the weight coming off his hands. He nearly screamed with relief as blood began to flow through his wrists again.

Elle put her hand on Bill's face. “Hey, this is all just the beginning.”

“I threw away everything for you,” he cried, pushing her furiously. Elle fell back off the beam and sailed through the air.

Still hanging upside down, Alex heard Elle land in the water as he began to untie the knotted rope around his hands with his teeth. After a moment his hands came free and he grabbed the rope, letting his legs whip down until he hung by his hands, which were aching but getting their feeling back.

Elle climbed onto the dock, pointing at him. “Don't let him—”

And Steven smashed her in the back of the head with the bowl.

She leapt at Steven as Bill closed in and Alex swung once more. He let go and suddenly there was nothing but air. Alex took a hard gulp.

Then cold. He plunged deep, forcing the air from his lungs and sinking fast.

Alex's body sang with cold as he swam, finding the piers and sticking to them, not daring to come up until he had gone at least fifty yards.

When he emerged under the dock, he heard screaming, and a vampire battle royale. He climbed up on the dock and ran, not looking back to see who would win.

Chapter 28

The Secheron marina was alive with Friday night activity, partiers and diners out walking up and down the giant pier. Alex followed the bright lights, his tux dripping wet, scanning for his next move. He was running out of time.

On the water, down the rippling black surface of the lake, Alex made out a large craft, a cruise ship that would have been small at sea but was massive for even a long lake like Geneva. He could see the lights up and down its body. That was the cruise ship
Allimarc.
His friends were there, and Alex was on a dock with nothing but seafood and martinis at hand.

He needed a boat, something with power, but the clanging of the lines against the poles along the marina taunted him with nothing but sailboats. That would be nice any other day, even if he could remember the knots, but it wouldn't do now. Then he reached a watercraft rental shop, long lines of Jet Skis and Sea-Doos tied up. Closed?

No, maybe not—he heard keys jingling at a side door of a shack between two thin jetties where the craft were unlocked and rented. A man in white pants with a black T-shirt was locking up. Alex could rent one.

Alex started to move toward the man, reaching into his pockets for his wallet. But of course it was gone, because Nothing. Could ever be. Easy.

Beg for a Sea-Doo?

An attractive girl in a yachting cap came around the shack and put her arm on the rental manager, a girlfriend, probably. She was eager to get up the big pier to the restaurant.

“Hey!” Alex shouted, but the guy didn't hear him over the wind coming off the lake.

Just then another sound came, the chugging of one last craft, a yellow WaveRunner, with a pair of university-age kids on it, drunk and whipping wildly as they brought the craft toward the jetty. They were late, obviously.

The rental manager was talking to his girl and Alex ran up the pier, out to the edge, sliding on his slick shoes to a stop at the end of the thin pier. He waved at the pair.

“Had enough?” Alex shouted in French, smiling like an idiot.
Come on. Give your WaveRunner to the nice boy in the tuxedo.

They came to a stop by the pier. “Don't we have to take it all the way?” the boy answered.

“No, no, it's okay,” Alex said. He gestured for them to come alongside the ladder that went down from the end of the jetty. He dared to glance back at the manager, who had now stopped making time with the girl and was turning his attention up the jetty.

Alex offered his hand and the guy grabbed it, merrily climbing the ladder. He started shouting about what a great time he'd had, or something, all of it fast and Italian and Alex wasn't listening because he was reaching his hand for the girl. She grabbed it, laughed and shrieked, and fell back.

“Come on,” he called as genially as he could.
Come on, for the love of all that's holy, get your drunk ass off the WaveRunner.

She took his hand once more and put a bare foot on the ladder. For a second he thought she was going to lose it again but she climbed this time, and as she found herself on the dock, Alex heard the manager calling.
“Attendez!”

Alex jumped on the craft, feeling it slosh down into the water with his weight. He twisted the throttle and stood still.

It was off. The guy had taken out the key when he climbed off.

The manager was coming fast now.

“Hey, I need the key!” Alex shouted to the Italian, who looked confused for a second, with good reason. Alex waved his hand at the manager, then pointed at the enormous blue float in the guy's hand. Hanging off the float was a telephone cord and a large metal ignition key. “I gotta take it to him, gimme the key!”

The guy jauntily saluted and tossed Alex the key as the manager arrived, running full bore. Alex slapped the key into the ignition and turned it, feeling the motor rev to life, churning in the water.

“Don't worry,” he shouted as he gunned the engine. Alex looked back as the jetty shrank in the distance, the manager's wails of protest disappearing in the wind. Water was roaring up from the rear of the watercraft, and he picked up speed, standing tall and leaning forward, the craft bouncing high on the waves.

Soon the darkness of the water gave way to a crazy quilt of colored reflection. Ahead of him loomed the massive waterborne hulk where Ultravox was ready to make his final move.