The Living Night (Book 1) (3 page)

"Where're your guards?" Danielle said.

"Oh, don't worry, they're around. Can I buy
you a drink?" He lifted a finger, and a waiter approached. Danielle
ordered a Ramos Gin Fizz and Ruegger a martini.

"So what brings you to Liberty?" Ruegger said.

Hauswell sipped his drink, waving his other hand
impatiently. “I wanted to see this place while it lasts. The dog-sled race has
become legendary among the Community. Sadly, rumor has it that things aren’t
going so well in fair Liberty.”

“So we’ve heard.”

“I’m going back to Vegas after the race. Truth
be told, I’m not looking forward to it. I wanted to get away for awhile. Every
shade in the world who holds a position of power seems to be in jeopardy, lad.
We're being systematically killed off.”

Ruegger remembered what Jarvick had told them.
“The Scouring.”

“That’s right. I’ve heard that even Vistrot's
gone underground to avoid it. Though still in New York, of course. He and that city are
symbiotically linked, I think.” He paused. “Word has it that you were off in
the desert again. Remind me, what is the purpose?"

"Vision quests are supposed to bring one
closer to wisdom,” Ruegger said.

"So what've you learned?"

"Wisdom is elusive."

To Danielle, Hauswell said, "And how are
you doing, dear?"

"I could be better. There's a price on our
heads, too."

"So I've heard."

"Don't suppose you know anything about
it?"

"I wish I did, my girl. I will tell you
that you don’t fit the profile of the victims of the Scouring. All the shades
being Scoured are either religious or criminal leaders of some sort. Whoever
wants you dead has another agenda.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve given serious
thought to going into hiding, myself. You might, as well.”

“We’ll think it over.”

Hauswell looked around. "I'll tell you
another thing; I'll be glad when this fucking race is over—pardon the
vulgarity, but this place … disturbs me. Ever since I got here, maybe before,
strange things have been happening, and an odd tension's in the air. Someone
saw a pair of wolves streak through here last night—big ones, not sled dogs. I
heard them howling myself, and they weren't were. Do wild wolves live this far
north? And the explosion, and the execution—"

"Execution?"

"Apparently one of the idiots who attacked
Maleasoel the other day stabbed her. Ludwig had him slowly tortured, beheaded
and hung by his toes.”

“Gods,” Ruegger said. “That’s not like Ludwig at
all.”

“He’s changed, lad. They just took the body down
a few hours ago. Probably, Ludwig didn’t want you to see it. Of course, the
assault on Maleasoel had a precedent. It seems that one of the higher-ups, a
man named Gleason, a personal friend of Ludwig, was killed two weeks ago. His
killer hasn't been found."

"What do you think happened?"

"I have no idea, although I think some of
this strangeness might have something to do with a mysterious visitor Ludwig
had about a month ago. Not that I was here, but I heard about it. They kept his
identity secret, but that itself was conspicuous, so the gossips have been
running wild with improbable theories. But back to the more supernatural aspects
of the madness here. For example, the bat.”

“Bat?” said Danielle.

“A giant bat, larger than a man, was seen
perched on a rooftop more than once, and there have been a few disappearances
connected to it. Tell me, are there such things as
shapeshifting
vampires?"

"Not that I know of,” Ruegger said slowly.
“Unless ... but no, the Balaklava aren't
around anymore. And they're not strictly vampires."

“Well, all this, plus the War of the Dark
Council …” Hauswell gestured vaguely. “It’s a strange time to be a shade.”

He glanced up as a girl approached, smiling when
she sat down beside him. Gaudily but seductively dressed, she was a ghensiv, a
race of female immortal that thrived off of semen and sometimes procreative
tissues. To accommodate this dependency, many of the succubae became prostitutes.

She grinned, wrapping an arm about Hauswell.
"Ready, darling?"

"Sorry, guys, but I've got a date,” he said.
“See you around, okay?"

"Later," Ruegger said.

"Oh, and good luck during the race."
Hauswell and the ghensiv vanished down a hall. A few shades who must be
Hauswell’s security people followed in his wake.

"Cute couple," said Danielle. She
killed her drink and flagged down their waiter for another.

"I've never seen Hauswell spooked before,”
Ruegger said. “And what was that about giant bats?"

"Just nerves. I bet people are getting
jumpy around here with the execution and all."

He finished his martini, and when the waiter
brought out Danielle's second round, he asked for his.

"What do you think about Ludwig closing
this place down?" she said.

"Well, we knew he'd come to that conclusion
eventually."

"Speak for yourself."

"I never thought he'd go this far,” Ruegger
said. “I never thought Liberty
would last five years, much less this long. The last thing I want is to have to
act against Ludwig.”

“
I
can’t believe he made it work. A modern Marx with an army. Until his crisis of
conscious, anyway.”

“A crisis with bad timing. It sounds like even
if he decided to abandon the compound, others would take his place, and with
more sincerity. Or at least with a greater appetite for power."

Danielle’s face clouded. "I don't want them
to take over the world, babe.”

There was little doubt in either of their minds
that a few hundred powerful immortals could, if placed in the right positions
at the right time, seize control of all humanity. One immortal alone could slip
into the White House and take over the President’s mind. Of course, the
President had a few secretly on the payroll to prevent this, but only a few.
All it would take was enough to overwhelm them. A half dozen, tops.

“The Libertarians would have to move fast,”
Ruegger said. “If they gave humans enough time to mobilize, to discover our
weaknesses, all would be lost. But if they struck swift and sure, they could do
it.”

Her eyes bored into his. “We have to prevent
that. You know that.”

Grimly, he nodded. “If it comes to that, we’ll
act.”

After a moment, he nodded. “The attentions of
the Marshals may be required again.”

“They say absolute power corrupts absolutely,”
she said. “I believe it. In my opinion, shades have too much power not to be
corrupted at least a little. Most of the people we know are evil to a point, and
maybe we are, too." She winced. "I didn't mean
you
, you know that. But ... sometimes I feel less than
wholesome."

"I do, too,” he admitted. “Morality is a
sticky thing when you’ve got to kill intelligent living creatures to stay
alive.”

She sniffed. “Speaking of which, you
hungry?"

"I guess."

"Well, we can't wait here for Ludwig all
day. He'll find us when he's ready."

They finished their drinks and moved to the
door, replaced their snow-shoes and returned outside, where (trailed by their
guards) they made their way to the last building in the arc—a well-disguised
barn—and paid five hundred dollars for admission. There they were given their
choice of cattle, selected one and drained it dry. It wasn't as satisfying as a
human would be and wouldn't last as long, but afterwards the vampires were
reasonably sated, at least for the moment.

They relocated to the main building of the arc,
the central one, where Ludwig and Maleasoel lived, as did all the chieftains of
the compound. Ruegger and Danielle had a room on the third story, in the same wing
and hall as Ludwig's. Entering their suite, they left their guards outside.

"So what've we learned?" Danielle
said, looking out the window.

Ruegger flung himself on the bed. "Someone
wants us dead, Hauswell may go into hiding because of some weird systematic
execution of power-wielding shades known as the Scouring, and Ludwig's about to
be overthrown.”

“Sounds like we picked the wrong month to go on
a vision quest."

“And don’t forget the War of the Dark Council.”

They had only heard vague rumors about the
conflict the Dark Lord Roche Sarnova was engulfed in and had no clear
understanding of what it meant, only that shades were
killng
shades in large numbers, mainly in Europe.
Such wanton violence could easily spill over into the human world.

“Do you think that has anything to do with
what’s going on here?” Danielle said.

“I don’t know. Perhaps it’s all connected
somehow. Perhaps not.”

She drew the drapes shut, slipped her shoes off
and lay down beside him.

He started unbuttoning his shirt, taking off his
various holsters. He traced her jawbone, running his hand through her hair, and
she gave a small smile, coming in closer to him. Their mouths met.

Afterwards, Ruegger kissed her and said,
"I'm going for a walk, okay?"

She nodded, saying nothing.

He ducked out into the night, refreshed by the
cold. Darkness fell about him, but he enjoyed that too. He set off. Seeing
Hauswell had stirred up memories in him, and he needed to be alone for a
moment. He thought of whom he had once been, what he had once done. Most of all
he thought of World War II.

Was I really that
man?My
gods. Kharker …

A throat cleared behind him. He spun to see a
shape there, framed against the lights of the compound.

“I thought that was you,” said the figure. “Off
brooding, as usual.”

“Ludwig! It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, my friend. Come. I have something to
show you.”

*
    
*
    
*

Smoking
a joint, Danielle listened to jazz and thought briefly about inviting her
guards in for a toke. She didn't have but about a
penner
left, though, and Ruegger would probably want some. This was one of the few
times during the year that he would allow himself to indulge in such things
(vision quests notwithstanding), but Danielle had no such qualms. She was a punk
from way back, and though her hair was less spiky these days some things never
changed.

Was he celebrating now? She thought not. She
knew seeing Hauswell brought up bad memories for him—why, she didn’t exactly
know. She only knew it had to do with him being evil once, long, long ago. She
knew it had to do with Lord Kharker. She wanted him to talk to her, tell her
his troubles. She knew he thought she'd stop loving him if she knew the details
of the thing he had been, but he couldn't be more wrong.

He knew all about her. He knew what had happened
between her and the werewolf Jean-Pierre at Kharker’ Lodge. He knew how her
mother was a heroin junkie and died of an overdose while driving to the
supermarket with seven-year-old Danielle in the car. He knew how Danielle’s
father had fallen off the wagon and stuck the wrong end of a shotgun in his
mouth three months later, leaving Danielle an orphan. Knew about Danielle's
days of wandering the streets before she'd admitted herself into an orphanage.
And about Malcolm Verger, her foster brother and the leader of the gang that
had beaten and raped her and left her for dead ...

The gang of seven, now reduced to two. And, very
shortly, zero.
You know everything, Ruegger. Now open up to me.

Smoke swirled through the room, and her mind
reeled pleasantly. The jazz reminded her of New York, although most of the music she'd
listened to there had been punk or heavy metal, which she still loved.
Supposedly, she was more “cultured” now, thanks to Ruegger, who had been alive
during the time of some of the greatest classical composers and still loved
them, but the truth was her first musical love was rock. She hoped it always
would be.

Sometimes she wondered if she would've ever left
New York if
not for him. Would she still be
headbanging
every
night, speeding off her ass, slashing her wrists and screwing anyone that came
along? No, she decided. She'd probably be dead. Before Ruegger, death was what
she'd really wanted. But she was wild, in love with life at the same time it disgusted
her, so it was a toss up. Strange to think that she'd look like an adult
now—well, an older adult; Ruegger had turned her at age nineteen—if still
mortal, her girlish figure slipping away, her smooth skin growing tougher,
wrinkled.

She told herself that in a hundred years it
wouldn't seem so strange, her unchanging appearance. Maybe once it was certain
that if she'd remained a mortal she'd be dead and buried the thought of being
beyond those laws would be more appealing, whereas now she couldn't help but to
think she was missing out on something. A real life. A
normal
life. She could have kids by now.
Grandkids
.