DarkWalker (21 page)

He wanted to go after Lisa. But how? He couldn’t follow her the way she’d gone. The self-proclaimed second lieutenant, dead behind him, would give no answers. The winged monstrosity that had climbed into the clouds? He didn’t know its scent or sound. And with so many other night creatures on these streets . . .

He glanced at his watch. Damn. He’d lost twenty minutes. Less than two hours till sunset. Not that he’d be able to tell. If anything, the storm strengthened. Lightning flashed constantly.

He didn’t consider himself a hero. He did what he had to, messy as it may be. But now he felt connected, damn them. He had to see this through to the end, whether Jack and Lisa were alive or other.

1.

Jack Harlow had never felt
so weak—physically, mentally, or emotionally. He didn’t trust his legs to hold him, couldn’t connect two coherent thoughts.

Jia
Li had pulled her skirt back down and left, returning only to bring a fresh cup of desperately needed water. She hadn’t taken blood this time, but still left him drained.

At least he was no longer fading in and out of consciousness. He was awake, and able to keep his eyes open. He even managed to swivel the chair so he could see both the front door and out the window with just a turn of his head.

It looked like Armageddon out there. Clouds roiled. Natural fireworks exploded. Deep, penetrating dark shrouded everything. Above those clouds, the sun still shone; day hadn’t ended yet.

But dusk was near, and the light low; Jack saw the earliest of the night creatures rising. Some walked during the day perfectly fine (he himself was an example, and apparently the vampire
Jia
Li). Most were nocturnal and slept through the day.

Fortunately, sunlight fried some.

There were eyes out there. They’d watched him all last night and they would watch again tonight. A wolfish man perched on a rooftop far below, his maw stretched wide to drink the rain. Shadows shifted. These were places Jack rarely saw, the tops of buildings; he was used to the undersides, and never realized so much existed above ground. A gargoyle ripped free from the top of a church, glancing left and right before taking flight. It was hard to believe something so heavy could fly so gracefully.

A brigade of rats marched on a rooftop across the street. It was low enough to not pose a threat, but the gathered rodents continually looked at Jack’s window.

Despite the electricity flowing so freely in the air, things flew: two or three types of demon; a few huge birds—
rukhs
, Jack thought, though he knew they shouldn’t have been here; a warrior woman on a horse? Jack blinked, certain he hadn’t actually seen a
Valkyrie
. Was a hero about to fall, or was she simply attracted by the same force that brought everything else? He even thought, briefly, that he saw a flying snake, which could not be as large as he imagined—could not be a
dragon
.

Faces formed in the clouds, in the shadows, in the rain itself. All these things seemed to circle
Jia
Li’s aerie.

Flies landed frequently on the window, only to be washed away by the rain. Mosquitoes, too. A lizard, no more than half a foot long, had managed to scale the entire building and now clung to the window a few feet to Jack’s left.

In the glass, Jack saw his own reflection. Ashen. Dark splotches under his eyes. He saw two of himself, first thinking it was his vision (but no, only one lizard stared at him), then maybe the window itself.

But his doubled reflection was real. Substantial. And directly behind him.

Jack drew upon every ounce of strength and willpower he had and reached behind him for the double. He caught the double by the neck before it could move. Yanked it forward—or tried; Jack managing only to pull himself backwards and swivel the chair.

The movement brought him face to face with his doppelganger. One hand around its neck, the other gripping its shoulder.

“What do you want with me?” Jack asked.

The doppelganger was less substantial than Jack, translucent and feather-light, but otherwise identical. It even wore the same clothes. “
Ich
verstehe
dich
nicht
.
”

Jack shook it, wrapping both hands around its neck. “I’m tired of this.”

In fact, Jack was well beyond tired. He couldn’t keep his hold on the doppelganger. It slipped out of his grip, turned, and ran. It got as far as the door, where it bounced off
Jia
Li. It toppled backwards, stunned. The vampire didn’t budge, but looked down. “What’s this?” she asked.

“
Doppel
. . .” Jack started.

She shot Jack a vicious look, and then returned her attention to his double. She bent at the knees and, with one hand around its throat, lifted it off its feet. It swung its legs uselessly, gripped her hand. Then it flailed both arms, striking
Jia
Li again and again without effect.

She pulled its face closer to her mouth. “Looks like you,” she said.

“
Nein
.”

Smoothly,
Jia
Li lowered her mouth to its throat . . . kissed . . . licked . . . then bit. And drank.

Jack felt a rush of jealousy as she fed from his duplicate. Also excitement, and desire—an unadulterated, inescapable physical need.

The doppelganger moaned and sighed. Tension fled, visibly, from its muscles, until it slumped in
Jia
Li’s arms. She tossed it aside.

“Looks like you,” she said, licking a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth, “but doesn’t taste nearly so sweet.”

2.

“That was a doppelganger,” Jack said.

Jia
Li tilted her head, then looked at the corpse she’d casually tossed away.

“Means I’m going to die,” Jack said.

“You don’t understand your own mythologies, do you?”
Jia
Li asked. “You think the stories that survive today are exact replicas of the original tales, based on actual events and creatures. When you say vampire, you think I cannot walk in churches, garlic scares me, I sleep in a bed of earth.” Casually, she strolled toward Jack; close enough now, she leaned forward, put a hand on either armrest, and lowered her face to his. “In fact, I love churches. And the taste of garlic. The bed on which I sleep . . .” She paused to kiss the corner of Jack’s mouth. “Satin sheets. I love all things sensual. Sure, it’s a boring stereotype, but not the one you expected, is it?”

“There are other vampires,” Jack told her, “whose strength fails in daylight. But the idea of turning one to ash . . .
Hollywood
, I believe.”

“A link to the past,”
Jia
Li said, “but to stories, and facts, long forgotten.”

“You remember,” Jack said.

“How old do you think I am?” she asked. When he hesitated, she said, “Go on, guess. I won’t be offended if you guess . . . high.”

Jack tried to recall their previous conversations. She’d said something, hinted . . .  “One thousand.”

Jia
Li shook her head. “Older.”

“Two thousand.”

“Keep going.”

“Three.”

“Almost there,”
Jia
Li said.

“Do you really count the years?” Jack asked. “Doesn’t it get tiresome after a while?”

“One of the
Ramses
sent a mission east,” she said. “They brought riches and scrolls, knowledge, and weapons. They meant, eventually, to conqueror. We never let them return. But they brought things they hadn’t realized, things they’d picked up unknowingly as they traveled. A vampire, as you call me now, but quite different than the ones in our legends.” She pushed Jack away, strode toward the office door, and paused with her back to him. “No, I do not count the years, not exactly. I cannot. Our years were different than yours. Calendars have changed and shifted. Time, my love, is a matter of perception, nothing more. I’m twenty-four, according to most who guess, and that works fine for me. As to your doppelganger friend here, you were right. His appearance would normally lead to your death. But he’d be the one to kill you.”

“How do you know about doppelgangers?” Jack asked, not letting
Jia
Li leave. “They’re not exactly related to vampires. Or China.”

“I’ve been around.”

“Tell me,” Jack said.

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

“Tell me,” Jack said again. “I mean, that’s what I do, I collect stories, right?”

Her smile widened. “What’s your angle?”

“No angle,” Jack said. “I’m just . . . interested.”

“I met one once,”
Jia
Li said. “She looked just like me. Five, six hundred years ago, I don’t remember. But she hadn’t always looked like me. I saw her shifting from someone else. My eyes were quicker than her transformation. They’re parasites. Need someone’s shape to assume, but they don’t like to be seen. Can’t stand light, either. This one, he might have run away if I hadn’t arrived, but he probably would have come back to kill you.”

While she spoke, she’d walked casually toward Jack. She sat on the edge of the desk, legs crossed at the thigh and hands on her knees. “That good enough for you?”

“You could have told it better,” Jack said.

“More action? Philosophizing, perhaps? Moralizing?” She laughed. “Okay, the moral of this story is, don’t trust what you see in the mirror.”

“That’s a little trite,” Jack said.

She slapped his cheek. It stung. He nearly fell off the chair. “You asked for the story.” She bent forward, gently taking his face in one hand. “Anything else you want?”

Jack met her eyes, felt himself sliding into them. Still, he managed to say, “No.”

She scowled. “It’ll be night soon,” she said. “I imagine we should expect visitors.”

“You sound like we’re a couple,” Jack said.

She smiled. “We
are
lovers.” She kissed him, hard, warm and moist, open mouthed but gentle. Unnatural bliss, like gauze, veiled Jack’s senses.

Jia
Li pulled abruptly away, jaw hanging open, staring out the window behind Jack. He managed to turn.

The rain no longer fell. It floated there, in the form of a face with eyes as large as Jack’s head. It grinned, then smashed the window.

3.

Jack knew names. They often came to him without explanation. He would have recognized
Jia
Li as a vampire on sight, even if she hadn’t been drinking. He’d recognized the homeless man as an errant zombie, the wraith for what it was. Sometimes, the names meant nothing to him.

The face in the rain was no shadow or phantom; it was the water itself, an
elemental
. Jack knew nothing about it.

He fell, tumbling backwards in the chair, when the window shattered. He rolled, hitting the bare wall. By the time he looked again, the elemental had assumed a human-sized shape to step into the office.

Jia
Li crouched in a fighting stance, low and back, one leg forward, hands open—one straight out, the other near her face.

“He’s mine,” she growled.

The elemental ignored her and turned toward Jack. Wind and rain poured through the open window, spraying Jack, adding bulk to the elemental. It stepped forward.

Jia
Li attacked. She leapt, kicking with her back leg, striking the
elemental’s
head. Her foot splashed through it, sending water everywhere but passing through without resistance. She landed next to the elemental, and smashed its chest with both palms.

Jack had no doubt that, had she kicked his head, it would have come off; and if those palms had hit his chest, they would have shattered ribs.

The elemental collapsed, losing its form and cascading like a sudden waterfall. With the rain being blown in through the window, it drenched
Jia
Li.

Jack leaned heavily on the wall for support as he stood. The elemental reformed behind
Jia
Li.

Before she could react, the elemental enveloped her. However she moved, it mimicked exactly, as if a part of her skin. She ducked, then rolled across the desk trying to shake it off. The water clung to her, flowing around her, following her every move. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath of water but didn’t seem to diminish the quantity of it around her.

She spit it out. The water erupting from her mouth fell back, a horizontal fountain, crashing into her face and neck.

She slammed backwards into the outer wall of the office so hard, it shook. They left a damp silhouette. She looked at Jack, and exaggeratedly mouthed the words, “I do love you.”

Then she flung herself out the window.

Jack staggered to the desk to watch
Jia
Li’s descent. She crashed onto the roof of a nearby building, landing poorly and rolling aside. Water exploded around her. Reforming into the shape of a man, it looked up at Jack.
Jia
Li, sprawled on the gravel rooftop, lifted her head and bared her teeth—or maybe Jack imagined that. They weren’t close enough to see detail, not through the shifting shadows of the storm.