F Paul Wilson - Novel 10 (56 page)

 
          
Done.
No time to waste. Move on. First get the guard by Lacey, and then—

 
          
"What
the hell—?" Lacey said.

 
          
Joe
looked down. The guard at Lacey's feet was writhing on the floor. The other five
were doing the same. This lasted maybe ten seconds, and then they lay as still
as their mistress.

 
          
Lacey
nudged one with the toe of her shoe. "Dead. They're all__"

 
          
She
looked up at Joe, her eyes wide. "Unk! This is what happened the other
night, right upstairs. A bunch of undead guards—supposedly they belonged to
someone named Gregor—they suddenly dropped dead, just like these guys.

 
          
It
was right after we heard a boom and ..." She turned to Carole. "You
told us you killed a vampire that night. Blew him to bits, right?"

 
          
"Right.
But I never knew his name."

 
          
Lacey
nodded. "I'll bet it was Gregor. You killed him across town, and his
guards died upstairs in the Post Office. We killed this one, and her guards die
a few seconds later. What's the connection? Is there some sort of spell that
binds the guards to their masters? A life-and-death bond that connects them? Is
that why they're so loyal?"

 
          
Memories
of the
Empire
State
Building
flashed through Joe's head.

 
          
"When
I mentioned to Franco how loyal his guards seemed, he told me it wasn't out of
selflessness or personal regard for him—it was self-preservation."

 
          
"That
was his word?" Lacey said. "Self-preservation? Well then that's it.
That's how they bind their guards to them: if their master dies, they
die."

 
          
Joe
shook his head. "I've got a feeling it's something more than that. Franco
mentioned a secret. 'A momentous secret we keep only to ourselves,' he said. If
only—"

 
          
Artemis!
Joe whirled and looked at the cot in the corner where he'd left the vampire.
Had he died too? But his bed was empty. Where—?

 
          
"Look!"
Carole said, pointing her flashlight beam at a doorway where a pair of legs
were crawling through. "Someone's there!"

 
          
Joe
hurried over, grabbed both ankles, and hauled Artemis back into the dormitory.
He flipped him onto his back and stood over him.

 
          
"Not
so fast, Artemis. We have some questions."

 
          
"Fuck
you!" His voice was barely audible.

 
          
"Why
did the guards die when we killed the woman?"

 
          
The
vampire sneered up at him and said nothing.

 
          
Joe
realized he had nothing to bargain with. Artemis knew he wasn't going to walk
away from this, so he had no reason to tell them anything.

 
          
Lacey
came up beside Joe and played her light over Artemis. "Can we bring him
upstairs?"

 
          
"I
suppose so," Joe said. "But why?"

 
          
She
looked at him. "Sunlight."

 
          
Joe
glanced from her to Artemis and saw the fear in his single eye. Joe grabbed his
feet again and dragged him toward the stairs.

 
          
"Good
idea!"

 
          
"No!"

 
          
Joe
didn't have time for threats or deals. He hauled Artemis up feet first to the
main floor. The vampire twisted away from the light and flung his arms over his
eyes. Joe found the brightness uncomfortable but it hadn't reached the
intolerable point yet. Pulling Artemis upright, he grabbed him by the collar
and belt and walked him toward the front doors. The sunlight blazed through the
glass like burning phosphorous.

 
          
"Now's
your chance, pal. Speak or burn. What's the big secret?"

 
          
"Fuck
you! I'll be just as dead either way!"

 
          
Damn
him, he was right. And a dead vampire told no tales. He spun Artemis and shoved
him into a shadowed corner where he curled into a whimpering ball.

 
          
Carole
and Lacey stood in the cellar doorway staring at Joe.

 
          
"Any
ideas, or do we just finish him and get out of here?" he said.

 
          
Lacey
stepped closer to Artemis. She spoke slowly, softly. "Tossing him out in
the sun will kill him. But what if just a part of him gets in the sunlight?
What will that do?"

 
          
"Yes!"
Joe said. Finally—leverage. "Anyone have a knife?"

 
          
Lacey
whipped out a stainless steel pocketknife. "My butterfly's gone, but this
should do. Someone tried to kill me with it."

 
          
Joe
unfolded the blade and began slicing at the legs of the vampire's pants below
the knees. He remembered how this creature had ripped the clothes from him a
few long nights ago.

 
          
"What
goes around, comes around, right, Artemis?" he said through his teeth.

 
          
He
pulled off Artemis's shoes, then moved around by his shoulders.

 
          
"All
right, ladies. Grab his feet and we'll move his legs into that patch of
sunlight over there."

 
          
"No!"
Artemis wailed.

 
          
"Joseph,"
Carole said, giving him an unsettled look. "Do we really—?"

 
          
"Please,
Carole. Time's a-wasting, and this is one of the undead who manhandled me in
New York
."

 
          
Artemis
directed his one fear-filled eye at Joe. "
New York
? Who—?"

 
          
"What?
You don't recognize me? I'm the priest Franco tried to turn the other night.
Only he failed."

 
          
"But
that's—that's impossible!"

 
          
Carole
still hadn't moved. Lacey stepped in front of her. "Let's go. I'll handle
it."

 
          
She
grabbed Artemis by both ankles. His feeble kicks lacked the power to free him.
Together she and Joe dragged the lower half of his body into the light.

 
          
Immediately
his flesh started to smoke and blister. Lacey made a disgusted noise and
released his ankles. His screams echoed through the building.

 
          
"Okay!
Yes! Please! I'll tell! Anything you want! I'll tell! Please!"

 
          
Joe
pulled him back into the shadows. Artemis lay in a heap, writhing, panting, and
sobbing, his hands hovering over but never touching the blackened,
still-smoking flesh of his lower legs. Sickened by the sight, Joe turned away
for a moment. He sensed Carole watching him but could not meet her eyes.

 
          
Finally
he turned back and forced himself to kneel beside the vampire. He poked him
roughly on the shoulder.

 
          
"What's
the secret, Artemis? Why did those guards die when we staked the woman?"

 
          
"They
were her get," he gasped. "When she died, all her get died, not just
her guards."

 
          
"What's
'get'?" Lacey said.

 
          
Artemis
sneered. "People she turned. When Olivia died, all of her get, no matter
where they were in the world, died with her."

 
          
Joe
knelt there, stunned. "I don't believe you."

 
          
"Believe
it, priest. It's the one thing we don't want the living to know about us."

 
          
"But
you're telling me."

 
          
His
smile was sickly. "What do I care? It won't matter to me, will it."

 
          
"You're
telling me that anyone, anywhere, that she turned at anytime since she became
undead, is now dead?"

 
          
"Yes.
That's the big secret. That's why Olivia's guards did everything to protect
their get-mother. Not for her sake. For their own."

 
          
Lacey
squatted on the opposite side. "But that means that somewhere there's a
vampire who's the ultimate source of this whole undead plague. If someone could
get to him—"

 
          
Artemis
was shaking his head. "No, cow. There may have been a single Prime
millennia ago, but now there are many. We undead aren't immortal; it only seems
that way. We age and die, but we last many centuries. Eventually rot catches up
to everything, including us. It hits suddenly and over the course of a week or
so we crumble to dust. But this kind of true death does not affect the get. In
fact it enhances them. Only premature death kills one's get. Because we lived
solitary existences for so long, we never knew about get-death. But when an
ancient Prime figured it out, and started the practice of protecting
getfathers, our numbers began to grow."

 
          
"Is
Franco a Prime?" Joe asked.

 
          
Artemis
nodded. "And my get-father." His eye narrowed. "You want him,
don't you."

 
          
"Oh,
yeah. If he goes, how many go with him?"

 
          
"Many.
I can't give you a definite number, but every Nosferatu in the
Empire
State
Building
is his get. Not in the city, however. We've
learned to mix gets within a region to avoid catastrophe. I hope you get
him."

 
          
"Why?"

 
          
"I
didn't want to come down here, but he made me. He hasn't treated me right since
a certain unfortunate accident, and now, because of him, I'm done. Aren't
I?" He shifted his gaze to Lacey and Carole. "You wouldn't consider .
. . ?"

 
          
"Not
a chance," Lacey said.

 
          
Joe
held out his hand. "Carole?"

 
          
"Not
a stake!" Artemis whined. "I don't want to be staked!"

 
          
Lacey
made a face. "You rather be thrown out in the sun?"

 
          
"No!
That's even worse! Look, can't you let me go? I've helped you. I've told you a
valuable secret. I—"

 
          
Joe
shook his head, as much to clear a creeping fog as to emphasize that survival
was not one of Artemis's options. "We'll give you a choice: sun or stake.
That's all you've got."

 
          
"There's
another way," Carole said.

 
          
Joe
looked up and saw her fishing something that looked like a candle out of the
front of her sweatshirt. He seemed to be viewing her through a mist. The waxy
stick had wires attached. She bent and placed it under Artemis's neck, then
draped a wire over each of his shoulders.

 
          
"This
is a high explosive," she said. "You won't feel a thing."