The Vampire Gift 8: Shadows of Mist

The safe clicks open.

“Ah,” I say, reaching in, satisfied. “Here we are.”

April and Paolo draw nearer to see what I have. I put my hand around the object inside and pull it out. I bring it in the middle of us and open my palm, revealing the figurine underneath.

It is a small carving of a turtle, made of a stone that looks like emerald but much, much rarer.

April screws up her face. “What is that?” she asks.

“That,” I say proudly, “is our last defense, in case the plan with Cierra fails. It is a torrial. Whoever carries it cannot be touched by the Elemental Forces. They simply warp around you, like repelled water from your skin.”

A look of amazement dawns on April’s face. Paolo remains stoic.

I snatch the turtle torrial away.

“I’ll have to get it set in a ring,” I tell them. “Or a necklace. A ring seems safer, though. More secure.”

“So, you got what you came for,” Paolo says. “Now can we go?”

“Patience,” I taunt him. “I propose we feed first.”

April’s eyes light up with sudden, unbridled desire. “Yes,” she whispers, almost mesmerized. “Yes, if we could do that…”

“It’s too risky,” Paolo says. He jerks April back, almost protectively. “If the bloodlust takes any of us, we will be found out.”

“Don’t tell me you’re frightened by a few paltry humans,” I sneer.

“There are millions in this city,” he counters. “And who knows how many Crusaders. If we reveal ourselves—”

“You worry too much, man,” I say. “This is my city. At least,” I give a coy smile, “the surrounding fifty blocks. I know these streets like the back of my hand. The Crusaders had an agreement with the Order not to infringe in our turf. New York makes for the greatest feedings. I have hunted here many nights.”

“We need to get back to James,” he reiterates.

I tsk. “Don’t tell me you’re gathering feelings for the vampire, too,” I mock.

He steps toward me. Suddenly, I am acutely aware of his aggression and his strength. He is only a few notches beneath me on the hierarchy. In a fight, we wouldn’t be that far apart.

“Tell us what you meant,” he whispers, “when you said you suspect something sinister.”

“Oh. That.” I roll my eyes and turn away, showing him my back, showing him I haven’t the slightest care in the world. “Well, that should be obvious. If it wasn’t one of the four officers who authorized the transfer, it must have been me.”

“What?” April coughs.

“Or, at least,” I continue. “Somebody very good at impersonating me. And there is only one person I can think of who is capable of such a thing.”

“Who?” Paolo asks.

I sigh. “The Slender Man,” I tell him, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.





Chapter Thirty-One


James

Near The Crusaders’ Main Facility.



Paul leads me, Victoria, and the other new vampires through the vast underground tunnels beneath the facility.

For now, we have left Beast on his own. I asked three of the Nocturna Animalia to watch over him. Lazar was one of them. A good man, who I could tell from the start would be loyal to me.

We reach the cavernous room where I first met Paul, where I converted him.

Where he fed on his son.

The mess has been cleaned up. The space is spotless. I guess that’s easy to do when all the high-ranking officers of the organization are vampires.

“The next part is just for us three,” Paul says, taking in me and Victoria. “Richard, Mike,” you stay here and make sure we are not interrupted.”

They give a formal acknowledgement and take up positions. Again, I am impressed by their discipline.

Paul veers off and takes us down the long, convoluted route to the chamber where his daughter is kept. We go through the security procedure to enter, passing through the uncomfortable silver-lined passage before arriving in an immaculate, sterile white room.

“Here we are,” Paul says, spreading his hands and taking in the area. He points to a door that’s been revealed. “My daughter is in there. The vampire we’ve kept—” he points another way, “—is over there.”

I glance at Victoria from the corner of my eye. She has a fixed expression on her face. I cannot tell if she is distraught or just angry.

“Well,” I say slowly, “let’s let him out!”

“What?” Victoria jumps. “James, they’ve been leeching him for what could be centuries! I cannot even imagine what that would do to a mind. The only way he’s survived this long is by clinging onto the most vital elements of the vampire essence. You let him out, and he will be like a feral animal!”

“Now, now,” I chastise. “Don’t tell me you’re frightened.”

“I’m not frightened, James,” she huffs. “I just think it’s monstrous what’s been done. The vampire and the girl both need to be put out of their misery!” She takes a step to me, lowers her tone. “Let me burn them,” she pleads. “I can harness enough magic to do it.”

“Absolutely not.” Paul steps in. “I will not let you murder my daughter!”

“What you’ve done to her is many times worse than murder,” Victoria says.

“We’ll deal with the daughter after,” I inform both of them. “For now, I want to see this vampire. Open the door.”

Paul and Victoria stare daggers at each other before separating.

Paul moves to comply with the order. Victoria crosses her arms and waits.

I face the decrepit vampire’s cell. Paul activates the door, and it slowly slides open.

The second an inch-wide gap shows, I flare my vampire senses, searching for the presence inside.

I find none.

Frowning, I step forward. I keep testing the air. If there’s a vampire in there, one who is alive, I should have no trouble sensing him from this distance.

The doors fully open. And there, in the far corner of the room, my eyes hitch upon a shriveled shell of a body.

In truth, it is no more than a corpse. The body does not move. The chest does not rise and fall with breath. I focus, trying to find a heartbeat, but even that is absent.

My skin crawls seeing one of my kind like this. It is worse than what Mother did with The Convicted. And yet, I know the vampire still lives—if he were dead, the corpse would have decomposed within a few days and disintegrated, leaving only the sad-looking loincloth he has on.

Slowly, I walk toward him. I am concentrating as much as I can, testing for his presence. Still I find none.

Only when I am inches away, down on one knee at his side, do I feel a single heartbeat push a feeble amount of blood through his tired, old body—and with that weak flutter, feel the thinnest flicker of his presence.

I reach out toward him. I have never seen a living thing so weak. He reminds me of the fictions to do with the vampire Lestat, when he crawled into the ground and lay there for decades without blood or nutrition.

Somehow, I don’t think the worst imagining of that condition would come close to what I see before me here.

My hand hovers an inch from his face. I cannot bring myself to make skin-to-skin contact.

I shudder in sudden disgust and turn away. Promptly, I walk out of the room.

“Victoria is right,” I proclaim. “This is evil. But death is not the answer.” My eyes turn to Paul. “Revival is.”

He sputters. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m not suggesting. I’m telling. You will go in there, right now, and feed the vampire your blood.”

Paul’s face goes white. “I will do no such thing!”

“Remember your place in the hierarchy, Paul,” I say softly. “You are bound to do as I command.”

“This is madness!” he exclaims. “You want to revive that vampire? Why? God’s sake, man, do you understand the hatred he will bring? Against me, against you, against this whole organization?”

“He is old, and his knowledge may be of use to us,” I say. “What are you frightened of, Paul? You feel my strength? There’s not a vampire among us that can challenge me.”

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