Chapter 8
Eight
“The history of the Order is showcased in the basement,” Darian said as he led them back through the house to a door with a security pad. He punched in a code, angling his body so that Cally and Eve couldn’t see. “We’ve turned it into a museum, of sorts.”
He opened the door to reveal a stone staircase lit with electric lights in the shape of flames.
Eve scrunched her nose. “Tacky.”
Darian ignored her and descended. “If you’ll follow me.”
They entered a large underground chamber. Glass cabinets lined the center, each displaying a set of armor or a collection of weapons. History wasn’t Cally’s forte, but they looked genuine—or old, at any rate.
“These represent the attempts of the Order to combat the evil that has pervaded for so long,” Darian said, his tone at odds with his words, as though he cared little for the contents of the room. He didn’t linger but headed deeper into the basement.
Primitive armor gave way to plate mail, antique swords to crossbows and muskets. Eve paused beside a set of Japanese samurai yoroi, glinting beneath the overhead lights. Another time, it might’ve been interesting, but Cally was still waiting for the Order to get to the point.
Beyond the display cases, the room became a library, the stone floor strewn with rugs and the walls lined with tall bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes. Several desks held computers, and one was occupied—a man in his thirties didn’t look up from his monitor.
“Here we research and collate data on vampires,” Darian said. “In recent years, with the advent of widespread video footage, it has become even simpler.” He laid his hand on the shoulder of the man at the desk. “This is one of our custodians. Bring up the footage from July, New York City.”
“Yes, Sentinel.” The man cleared the screen of what he was working on and clicked through to the file he sought, and a grainy video played, showing an image of an alleyway at night.
A lone man walked through, and an instant later someone appeared behind him, grabbed him by the throat, and buried his face in the man’s neck.
Eve pushed close to Cally, watching with her hand over her mouth.
The custodian paused the playback, the image filling the display.
The resolution was so poor that Cally couldn’t see fangs or a trickle of crimson, but she knew that both were there. The look of fear and pain on the man’s face, on the other hand, cut through the grainy footage.
“As you can see, the quality is dismal, but we were lucky to get even this. In most cases, vampires don’t leave a body, so even if they feed before a camera, there’s no reason to check footage.
” Darian’s mouth twisted in distaste. “It is entirely possible that attack after attack goes unseen, merely because the recordings are never watched.”
“What makes you think that’s a vampire?” Cally asked, playing her skeptical role even as she thought how similar the alleyway looked to the one near her house.
“One moment he was there, the next he was not,” Darian said. He gestured at the screen. “He feeds; you can see from the expression on the victim’s face that he is unable to resist, despite the obvious agony he feels. Vampires feed on pain and suffering as much as they do on blood.”
Fortunately for me, Antoine does not.
“Still, it could be a prank, a spoof. The quality is—”
“Play on, Taras.”
“Yes, Sentinel.” The man clicked the button, and the video continued.
Cally watched as the vampire fed, then pulled away, licking his teeth. The video captured a brief mark on the man’s neck before they both vanished, leaving an empty alleyway.
“What happened to them?” Eve asked.
“Replay, frame by frame,” Darian directed. “This footage is only fifteen frames per second,” he added, as though it should be a crime for surveillance to be so inadequate.
The custodian repositioned the video to just before the vampire finished feeding. He clicked it on, a frame at a time, lingering on the moment the bite mark became visible. In the next frame, the vampire had taken a hold on the man, and by the next, they were a blur at the edge of the screen.
“Strong and fast,” Darian observed. “Taking his victim with him, to hide the body somewhere.”
“Do you have other such videos?” Cally asked, letting a tremor enter her voice, as if she were starting to be convinced.
“A dozen or so. Other data, too. Missing persons, for example. From the data we’ve collated, we can account for approximately a third of all missing persons, from various causes—drugs, crime, mental illness and so on.
But that means two thirds of all missing people, in every state in the USA, remain unexplained. ”
Cally had done her own research and already knew that was true. But she frowned, as if skeptical. “I thought that was why they were… uh… missing?”
“We go a little deeper than the government, Miss Davis. The last-seen data points cluster around nightclubs, alleys, certain city blocks. A significant peak in eighteen to twenty-five-year-olds—vampires prefer younger blood. Many cases of families claiming the missing person had no reason to go missing, and pursuing the authorities for years. But let’s move on. Taras, the list, if you will?”
The Order’s theory was eerily close to Cally’s own experience, from her first encounter with Antoine to Joon’s sister, and the many attempts his family had made to discover the truth.
Eve looked concerned, flawlessly playing the part of someone hearing this for the first time.
The screen cleared, a few mouse clicks, and a spreadsheet opened. Divided by state, a list of names appeared. Taras focused on New York.
“All these people you see before you have some commonalities. They are all extremely wealthy, though much of their money is hidden in offshore accounts. Not only do they own property and businesses—often through holding companies with tenuous connections at best—but they also inherit their wealth from their fathers. Who, in turn, inherit from their fathers—or mothers, where the subject is female. We’re rarely able to capture images, but in those we have across years, none of them age.
” He raised an eyebrow. “Theories, Miss Davis?”
Cally had discovered as much when she’d researched Antoine. The only surprise was how many names the Order had in their database. She wanted to ask to see their list for Massachusetts, but she already knew Antoine would be on it. How could he not, when she found him so easily?
“It’s obvious you’re saying these are vampires. If you know who they are, why haven’t you killed them?”
Darian tilted his head. “Do you know how to kill a vampire?”
Antoine tightened his arm around Minh’s throat and pulled. Gradually, inexorably, the younger vampire’s neck tightened and stretched, until skin split, flesh tore. With a final yank, Antoine ripped off his head and threw it away.
She went for what he’d expect. “A stake through the heart?”
“Not so far as we know.” Darian’s mouth pressed into a thin line.
“What we do know has taken decades—centuries—and cost too many lives. Vampires are unnaturally resilient. Their bones are high-density, stronger than steel, their flesh compact. They’re not bulletproof, but they move so fast that hitting them is luck.
” He grimaced, like he was reliving memories.
“Even if you do, a lethal shot is unlikely. They don’t care about crosses, silver, or running water.
To your point, staking them doesn’t dust them, Buffy style.
Vampires aren’t dead. What they have is supernatural levels of regeneration. They can heal almost anything.”
“Sunlight?” Eve asked.
Darian’s voice soured. “Not enough. It burns them, but they recover. The only real weakness we’ve found is that during the brightest daylight hours, they fall into a deep stupor.
The weaker and younger they are, the longer they sleep.
But they know that too, and they’re careful.
Layers of defenses, human thralls—they’re nearly impossible to catch vulnerable. ”
“So what does work?” Cally asked, watching him carefully.
“Beheading.” His answer was immediate. “Fire, if it’s hot enough, but the problem is keeping them in it.”
Eve looked thoughtful, playing along. “What about drowning?”
“Possible,” Darian conceded. “We don’t know.”
Cally exhaled, shaking her head. “You have a list of targets, but no way to take them out.”
“We’ve had some success, but at a heavy price.
” Darian’s face tightened. “One mistake, and we’re facing an abomination stronger and faster than anything you can imagine.
Whole teams lost.” His jaw flexed. “And it isn’t exactly easy to recruit professionals into a secret war most wouldn’t believe in. ”
“I’m still waiting to hear where I fit in,” Cally said.
Darian held her gaze, his expression stoic. Then he addressed the custodian, his tone calm but carrying the expectation of instant obedience. “Leave us.”
“Yes, Sentinel.” The man quickly gathered his things, stood, and left.
Darian waited until he was out of sight. “It should be clear by now that everything I’ve told you is the truth, Miss Davis. And that is why we need you.”
Cally folded her arms. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”
Darian gestured to the bookshelves around them. “Within these tomes lies a wealth of historical information. The Malleus Maleficarum. The Grimorium Verum. The Book of Shadows, and dozens of others.”
Eve twitched as though she wanted to reach for the books and only force of will prevented her.
“There’s a bond between vampires and witches,” Darian continued. “Only the magic of—”
“A bond?” Cally interrupted, pulse racing. “What sort of bond?”
“A connection, if you will. A mystical link we don’t fully understand.” Darian frowned, as if the admission was inexcusable. “Suffice to say, a witch has power over a vampire.”
Cally gave an inward sigh of relief. When he’d first said ‘bond’… too close for comfort.
“All I can do is light up obsidian,” she muttered.