Dread Nemesis of Mine (42 page)

I felt myself sag in relief.

The vampire motioned us to follow. "You're a
bit early, but never fear. There are drinks and snacks waiting." He
led us down a familiar hallway to a door I recognized.

It was the same door leading down into the
basement. I couldn't stop the shudder as we began a long descent
down the stairwell. Loud music boomed up the corridor. When we
reached the bottom, I saw the source—huge speakers and a towering
projection screen dominated a wall at the far end where a group of
vampires competed in a dancing video game. It was the same exact
game they'd been playing the last time I sneaked into this place to
rescue my dad.

"Sweet setup," Nyte said, ogling the massive
entertainment system.

"Knowing how to dance comes in handy as a
vampire," James said. "We do so love our nightclubs."

The large basement was divided by cubicle
partitions into sleeping areas. I looked across the way where a
divider blocked my view. Behind it, somewhere, was a door leading
down into the crypt. I wondered if there were more vamplings down
there or not. I noticed Elyssa flicking a few flashers toward the
dancing vampires, and dropped a few of my own into the middle of
the space between dividers where they rolled into the cracks of the
stone flooring.

James led us away from the music and to the
other end of the sprawling space where a harried-looked vampire
lined up chairs in front of a podium.

"Where are the rest of the chairs?" the
organizer said, turning her red eyes on James. "I told those idiots
we needed at least fifty more." She threw her hands up in the air.
"Why do I even bother? We should just make the newbies stand."

"Now, now, Erin. We wouldn't want our guests
to feel unappreciated, would we?" James put an arm around her
shoulder and led her a short distance away as he spoke in calming
tones.

"Look at all these chairs," Elyssa said, her
gaze running up and down the rows. "There must be over a hundred of
them."

"Maybe it's for everyone here," Ash said,
uncertainty plain on his face.

I glanced back at the crowd of vamps raising
the roof in sync with the game. Cold apprehension gripped my
insides. If every chair represented a super vamp, unaffected by
flashers, we'd have our hands full. Coupled with the armed noms
patrolling the grounds, I wasn't sure our plan had a good chance of
succeeding. "Do you see Max or Barclay?" I said, scanning the
area.

Elyssa shook her head. "Not a sign."

"Maybe they're upstairs?" Nyte said.

I glanced at James. He and Erin had wandered
further away. "Let's check out the vamps at the other end. Act
casual."

A long table bore cups of red liquid and an
assortment of chips and dips. Nyte picked up a cup and took a sip.
He laughed. "Kool-Aid."

I tried a tentative sip myself. It was cherry
flavored. "You've got to be kidding me." I piled a plate with chips
along with the others and we moseyed down to the dancing vampires,
doing our best to act like casual observers.

While Nyte and Ash watched two vampires do
the Running Man in time with the music, Elyssa and I looked at the
faces of the participants. One or two looked vaguely familiar,
probably because I'd fought or run from them at some point over the
past few months. One thing was clear—neither Maximus nor Barclay
were in the room, unless they were hiding in one of the partitioned
areas. Elyssa seemed to be a step ahead of me. She motioned toward
the haphazardly arranged dividers with her head, and moved down the
row, looking in each one she passed on the right.

I followed her lead, taking the ones on the
left. As I passed by the area where the corridor down the middle of
the room intersected with the door leading back upstairs, I saw a
man hurry past, heading straight across the room toward the
entrance to the crypt. Unlike most of the fashionably attired
residents, this man looked disheveled. Something about his clothes
seemed wrinkled. Or maybe they just seemed to hang unnaturally on
his pale, doughy—

"Holy crap," I hissed, making a beeline for
Elyssa.

She turned from inspecting a cubicle and
raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Bigglesworth just passed through here." I
motioned my head toward the crypt door. "He headed downstairs."

"Are you sure it's the same guy? Wasn't he
with Artemis in Colombia?"

"Unless he has a twin with the complexion of
a marshmallow, yeah."

She put a hand to her chin. "He's spreading
himself pretty thin."

"Considering he's really just a ball of goo,
I guess he's capable of handling it." I edged toward the divider
hiding the crypt door, looking up and down the center aisle for
James or any suspicious vampires.

"Justin, this is Bella," said a static
distorted voice in my ear. "Can you hear me?"

I resisted the urge to put a finger to my ear
and said, "Yeah, but barely."

"—move…new position. –thing interfering…very
powerful….careful!" came the garbled reply.

"What?"

No response. I spotted Ash and Nyte looking
around the room. "We can't go without telling them where we are," I
told Elyssa. "Hang on." I sauntered up to my friends, trying to
look casual.

"Dude, this is the best party ever," Nyte
said when I reached him. "I think I'm actually going to do it,
man."

"Do what?"

"Compete in a dance-off."

I groaned. "Seriously? We're not here to
party, in case you forgot."

His expression sobered. "Oh. Yeah."

Ash gave me a serious look. "So, what's
next?"

I glanced around, certain with all the
sensitive vampire ears around me, it would have been impossible to
say anything privately without the insanely loud booming of the
dancing game. "Elyssa and I are going into the crypt to check
something out. You two stay up here and watch our backs. If
anything happens, you have to get out of here and warn the others.
Bella's little worm radio trick isn't working very well, so I might
not be able to use it."

The two nodded.

"And if you can find out how many people
they've given the vampire potion to, that'd be huge."

"We'll ask around, casual-like," Ash
said.

I locked eyes with Nyte. "Look, I know how
tempting it is to cut loose. These guys look like a barrel of
laughs, but they're not. We're in the middle of enemy territory,
and the door we came in through is the only way out."

My friend's face paled even more than usual
for his ginger complexion as he looked to the door leading up and
out of the house. "Don't worry, Justin. I won't let you down."

"Be careful," Ash said, his eyes big and
worried.

I flashed a quick grin. "Ah, we'll be fine.
Just do what I said, and everything will come out peachy keen." I
didn't, for a moment, believe a word of what I'd just said.

Elyssa waited behind the divider at the door.
The keypad was still fried, probably from the last time I'd been
through here and knocked power out in the entire building with a
flubbed attempt at using magic to get through the electronic lock.
She looked down the dim passage beyond the metal door. Back at
me.

It was time to enter the belly of the
beast.

Elyssa took a step inside. Paused, and turned
to me. "You know this could be a trap. Once we're down there,
there's nowhere else to go."

My guts felt like a wildcat was trapped
inside and trying to get out as I stared down the spiral staircase.
Terrifying memories coiled around my mind. I froze at the first
step, fear riding my back. Elyssa looked at me and nodded.

"I feel it too," she said. "God knows I
almost died down here." She took my hand. Squeezed it. "But my hero
saved me."

I blew out a breath. "Well, your big hero is
scared." With an effort of will, I pushed myself across the
threshold. Kissed her hand. "Let's kick some ass." My bowels still
didn't appreciate being thrust into danger, but I was the boss of
them, dagnabbit, and there was no way I was going to let them mess
up a nice pair of jeans.

We crept our way down the winding staircase
and reached the crypt—or what used to be the crypt. Instead, the
area, where before there had been tombs, skeletons, and all sorts
of other creepy stuff, was a bare dirt floor and building supplies.
Crates of floor tiles, bundles of lumber, and an assortment of
tools like nail guns and power saws sat in neat piles. Someone had
strung up lights on a wire leading around the corner and presumably
into the cave beyond. Despite the new construction, a musty, dank
odor still hovered in the air—a smell I much preferred to the fresh
aroma of rotting vamplings we'd encountered the last time.

Elyssa crouched and peeked around the corner.
Motioned me to follow. The corridor beyond was clear of coffins up
to a point. Beyond lay a pile of rotted wood, stone, and skeletal
remains. Her face went livid. "That son of a bitch. Clearing out
the dead like they're trash."

I pointed to a tall stack of wooden crates,
some stamped with "Property of United States Military" on them.
"He's trying to build an armory. Just like in Bogota."

Voices echoed from farther down. While I
couldn't make out what they were saying, it was evident someone was
seriously ticked off. We skulked onward, using crates and refuse
piles as cover until we reached a place where the old crypt ended
and the natural environs of a cave took over. Several figures
gathered in front of an outbuilding I recognized—the one Maximus
had used to imprison my father. The string of construction lights
hung to the sides of the cave, illuminating the small group.

A tall man in a top hat and suit, appearing
like someone out of a classic movie, stood with his back to me, an
ivory cane in one hand. Beside him stood the pale form of
Bigglesworth.

"I daresay you have failed us most miserably,
Maximus," the man said in a southern genteel accent. "If not for
the patience of our patroness, I would have already ended your
little rebellion."

"Patience?" Maximus spat. "You mean insanity.
That crazy bitch doesn't know her head from her ass half the
time."

The man stiffened. "I suppose I should expect
such disrespect from your ilk."

"You want I should teach him some manners,
sir?" Bigglesworth said, his fist swelling to grotesque proportions
as he pressed it into his hand.

"No, Mr. Bigglesworth. I believe it would be
a waste of time."

Maximus showed his teeth. "I'd like to see
you try, goo-ball."

The man rapped his cane against the floor.
"Did you ever stop to think what a vampling plague would do to the
mortal realm?" He paused for a second. "Centuries of planning
wrecked because you couldn't control your ego, sir. Humanity
reduced to worthless rotting corpses. What use would the
Brightlings have for the walking dead, I ask?" He didn't wait for
an answer, instead, lashing out in a blur with his cane to smack
Maximus in the head. The end of the cane rapped against the floor
again. "Why, no use at all,
sir
."

Maximus reeled from the attack as dark blood
welled from a cut on his cheek. He growled. Lunged. His body
smacked against an invisible barrier, the only evidence of its
existence a ripple in the air.

"What in Heaven's name is this about?" said a
voice to the side of us.

I nearly had a heart attack as Barclay strode
in from our left. Had he not been so focused on the unfolding drama
between Maximus and the rebel South, he would have seen Elyssa and
me before we dropped flat on our stomachs behind another set of
crates about twenty feet to his right. The vampire wore a bowler
and a suit which matched the other man's in that it looked out of
an era long past. He adjusted his monocle as he slowed his stride
to a saunter.

Barclay stopped a few feet from the other
man, tweaked his oiled moustache, and said, "Mr. Conroy, I will
know the meaning of this visit and why you're provoking my
protégé."

I almost gasped out loud, instead, sucking in
a breath, an even bigger mistake as dust went up my nose thanks to
the close proximity of my face to the ground. Pinching my nostrils
in an attempt to prevent a sneezing fit, I looked to Elyssa with
watering eyes. Her mouth hung slightly open, eyes tight with
apprehension.

Somehow, I avoided the classic sneeze and
give away your position scenario and climbed cautiously back to my
knees to peer over the crates as Barclay took up a stance to
Conroy's left.

"Mr. Barclay, so
good
of you to put in
an appearance," Conroy said, turning to present his thin profile to
me. He wore a graying mustache, long goatee, and a pair of round
spectacles on a nose of generous proportions. He immediately made
me think of Mark Twain. I figured my mom must look like Mrs.
Conroy, because she looked nothing like this guy.

Barclay ignored the jibe. "Again, I ask you,
sir, what is the meaning of this intrusion?"

"I believe that to be rather evident," Conroy
said, spreading his arms. "My disciples have spent countless days
cleaning up the messes left behind by this fool. Already, we have
quashed five different outbreaks of vampling plagues where he has
attempted to convert people into vampires despite his obvious
inability to do so." He shook his head as if to exaggerate his
disappointment. "And let us not forget Bogota. Had a plague
descended upon such a large populace, the results would have been
catastrophic." He leaned forward on his cane. "Just what, may I
ask, do the vampires intend to use as a food source should humanity
fall victim to such a plague?"

"I believe our original deal with Daelissa
was to sow chaos, Conroy." Barclay took off his monocle and
polished it on a handkerchief. "I fail to see the problem."