Authors: Clare Willis
Where the hell were Sherman and Delia?
“Where’s Isabel?” she asked. “Is she all right?”
He steepled his fingers and tapped them lightly. “Why are you asking me? Use your senses! Didn’t Jacob teach you anything?” He chuckled. “Of course he did. Just enough for you to think you could take me on. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, I always say.”
Sunni closed her eyes and concentrated on listening. Soon she heard someone upstairs, walking on thick carpet. It was discernible from the tiny creaks in the floorboards.
“That’s not Isabel,” she said. “Who have you got up there?”
“Of course it’s her.” Richard took a poker and rearranged the logs in the fire.
“That person isn’t using crutches.”
“That’s because Isabel is cured.” The dapper vampire smiled, trying to envelop Sunni in his charm, but it was far too late for that.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Sunni shouted, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew. Just as Sherman had given her his blood for its healing properties, Richard must have done the same for Isabel.
“Aren’t you going to thank me?” Richard asked. “I can think of several ways you can show me your gratitude.”
Sunni still couldn’t hear Sherman and Delia in the house. She wondered if they’d been intercepted in the backyard.
“I’m going to see Isabel.” She turned away.
“She’s already on her way down. Why don’t you sit and wait for her?”
Sunni listened again, and heard Isabel walk to the top of the staircase.
“I told myself that if Isabel was still alive I wouldn’t kill you. When I see her I’ll give you thirty seconds to leave. Take Dennis’s car and disappear. Never come near us again.”
“Your mercy is touching, but ill-advised, I assure you.”
“Thirty seconds, Lazarus.” Sunni turned on her heel and walked into the foyer. Isabel was still at the top of the staircase. Sunni bounded up the steps, grabbed her friend and hugged her tightly.
“Oh, Isabel, thank God you’re okay. Everything’s going to be all right now …” Isabel was standing stiff under her embrace, her body tense as a bowstring. Sunni pulled back to look at her face. “Izzy? Are you all right? Oh, shit.”
Sunni dropped her arms. She took a step back, her eyes riveted on Isabel’s face. She yelled down the stairs. “What have you done to her, you bastard?”
“Bastard? Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” Richard had entered the foyer and climbed the stairs, moving with feline grace. He walked over to Isabel and put his arm around her, leaned down to plant a kiss on her white cheek. Sunni’s hand flew to her mouth as she stifled a sob. Isabel’s face was the gray-white of a wax candle, the flesh molded to her bones like a painted skull. Her eyes had sunk so far back they were barely visible. Her mouth hung slightly open, her lips bluish and cracked. Her beautiful blond hair was so dirty and matted it appeared black. She was wearing a short-sleeved white blouse with ruffles around the neck. The ruffles were specked with tiny blood drops, a macabre polka-dot effect.
“I thought you said you cured her,” Sunni whispered.
Richard nodded. “Oh, I did, but then I kept on draining her. There’s really nothing left of her, you see,” he said, smoothing a lock of Isabel’s matted hair off of her forehead. “If I don’t bring her over soon, she’ll just wind down, like a mechanical doll, and stop forever. ”
“No,” Sunni said faintly. Tears swam in her eyes, blurring Isabel’s image.
“But you, on the other hand, so bright, so full of life. You recovered wonderfully from the draining I gave you.” Richard’s hand snaked out to touch Sunni’s cheek. She was so horrified she didn’t move away. She couldn’t take her eyes off Isabel. “You still have much to offer me.”
“The only thing she’s going to offer you is death, vampire.”
Sherman and Delia emerged from a back hallway into the foyer. They moved forward so quickly and silently they appeared to be gliding just above the floor. Sherman brandished the knife and Delia held the chain that had been in the small bag Sherman handed Sunni in the restaurant. As fine and thin as fishing line, the chain looked like it wouldn’t hold a toddler, much less a centuries-old vampire, but Sherman had insisted it was one of the most powerful weapons in existence.
Sherman and Delia looked so nonthreatening it would be laughable if it wasn’t so deadly serious. A tiny, baby-faced old man and his reed-thin daughter, brandishing comic book weapons. Sunni wondered what the hell she’d been thinking. But then she saw Richard’s reaction.
His eyes widened. He stepped behind Isabel, as if he intended to use his corpse bride for a shield. “Shanyuan Wong, is that you? I thought you were dead.”
Sherman smiled. “As Twain said, ‘the report of my death was an exaggeration. ‘ But yours will not be. ”
The air sparked with anticipation; dust motes danced in the lamplight, stirred by invisible breezes. The atmosphere thickened. Sunni’s pupils dilated, and she could see everyone in the room gather themselves for battle. The shift was visible only to her heightened senses: it appeared as nothing more than a narrowing of an eye, the tensing of a muscle, but it changed everything.
Then, as if someone had fired a starting gun, the fight began.
They had moved Jacob twice; he was now in a cell very near the Council chambers, in fact it was the holding cell where prisoners were kept before they were brought to testify in front of the Council. It had a concrete floor, was furnished with chairs, and equipped with electric light. Jacob assumed that the Council was preparing for him. Unlike human justice, vampire justice was usually swift. But like human justice, it could often be brutal. In the case of a vampire, a life sentence was forever, and to Jacob’s mind that was far harsher than death.
It was very quiet in the halls. The chambers never officially closed, but they did have a few hours of quiet around dawn. Jacob paced the floor. It was six steps from one wall to the other.
“Stop pacing, Jacob. You’re making me nervous.”
Jacob looked up. Scipio was standing in the shadows on the other side of the bars. His expression was grave.
“How is Enzo?” Jacob asked.
“He is in a great deal of pain. He will heal, however. ”
“Thank goodness for that,” Jacob said.
“Would you like me to tell him anything?” Scipio asked.
Jacob shrugged. “What would I say? I have no right to ask for his forgiveness.”
“Well, he has a message for you.”
Jacob looked up hopefully.
“Come closer,” Scipio said.
Jacob drew close to the bars.
“He said he forgives you. He understands what it means to be in love.”
“He is a good friend.” Thinking the interview was over, Jacob turned to walk away. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a key in a lock. The cell bars creaked and the door opened, just enough for Jacob to slip through.
“I know it is forbidden to kill our own, but sometimes laws need to be broken.” Scipio clasped Jacob’s arm in a Roman handshake. “Go, Jacob. I hope you and the dhampir are successful. And I hope she loves you as much in return.”
Despite Sherman and Delia’s unprepossessing looks, Sunni didn’t doubt their prowess in the fighting arena. She had seen enough from Richard and Jacob, and even from herself, to know that they would be capable of taking down almost anything that walked the earth. She expected that she, Sherman, and Delia together would prove a match for Richard. She hadn’t counted on Isabel.
The old vampire and his daughter flew at Richard: literally flew, if Sunni’s eyes could be believed, because first they were in the foyer and a second later they were on the second-floor landing. But she only saw them for a moment, because at that point Isabel threw herself at Sunni. Sunni didn’t have to concentrate to bring on the change, it happened as easily and as naturally as blinking an eye. Isabel’s movements slowed to a crawl, and Sunni had time to cloak herself. At first she wasn’t sure whether her effort had been successful, but she could see from Isabel’s confused expression that it had. Sunni stepped out of the way and Isabel continued on her downward trajectory. With nothing to break her advance she pitched forward and tumbled down the stairs, rolling head over heels until she came to a stop in the foyer. Her body lay immobile on the parquet floor, her head tilted at an impossible angle.
Sunni stifled a scream. Ignoring the battle that was occurring behind her, she leaped down the stairs in two bounds and landed at Isabel’s side. She bent over and put her hand on her friend’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. Before Sunni could detect anything, Isabel jerked upward like a puppet on a string and grabbed Sunni by the neck. Sunni responded automatically, seizing Isabel’s shoulders and pushing her away with all her might.
As a rabid dog assumes unnatural strength because of the lethal virus coursing through its veins, Isabel fought like a tiger, with no human thoughts in her mind, no recognition that the beast she was trying to kill was her best friend. She threw Sunni to the ground, scratching and punching and gouging. Her fingernails ripped into Sunni’s eyes, and only a quick turn of the head kept Sunni from being blinded. But while her head was turned Isabel got her hands around Sunni’s neck.
Sunni gazed in stunned disbelief at the slavering creature straddling her body, choking the life out of her. She knew it wasn’t Isabel, but the face above her was her friend’s. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything except pull on Isabel’s arms and try to disengage her. Grainy halos appeared around each twinkling light in the chandelier above her head. A black fog infiltrated her peripheral vision, like squid ink in water. As Isabel’s beloved face faded from her sight, Sunni’s survival instincts took over.
With a sudden burst of strength she hit Isabel under the chin, knocking her backward. As soon as her friend’s grip had loosened Sunni threw her over and switched places with her. Isabel bucked like a wild bronco, screaming obscenities Sunni had never heard from her mouth. She raked Sunni’s cheek with her nails. Sunni watched, aghast, as her chalk-white face was splattered with Sunni’s blood. Isabel smiled and licked some of it off her lip.
“I’m sorry, Isabel,” Sunni muttered as she lifted Isabel by her hair and slammed her head into the floor. She watched Isabel’s eyelids flutter. Her eyes rolled back, showing the bloodshot whites. Sunni fervently hoped she had delivered just the right amount of force, enough to knock Isabel out but not enough to kill her or cause brain damage. She stroked Isabel’s cheek as she stood up and wheeled around.
What she saw was not what she had hoped for. Delia was on the floor in the shadow of the staircase. The vase of flowers was upended. Delia lay in a pool of stagnant water, but thankfully not blood. Stems and petals were entwined with her hair and clothes. Richard and Sherman clutched each other in a desperate embrace, both bleeding from multiple wounds. They were each trying to stop the other from reaching the knife, which lay on the floor a few feet from Delia’s hand.
The two vampires were struggling between Sunni and the knife. She was not going to reach it before one of them did. But a faint gleam on the floor drew Sunni’s attention. The silver chain lay near Isabel’s foot, unnoticed by the vampires. She picked it up. When pulled it stretched like taffy, but it didn’t break. Sherman had called it silver, but this material had a consistency that was like nothing she had ever seen before.
Sherman escaped Richard’s grasp and leaped for the blade, picking it up and turning in a single, graceful motion. Richard began backing up the circular staircase, his hands outstretched. Sherman didn’t let a second pass before he followed him up the stairs. Now they were both gliding again, moving at superhuman speed. They paused on the landing, in front of a huge, beautiful stained glass window that Sunni knew was an original Tiffany. Sherman raised the knife. Richard slipped like a shadow behind his back and before Sherman had a chance to react Richard pushed him through the window. The sound of splintering glass was almost musical.
Sunni’s body moved before her mind formed a conscious thought. She leaped the entire height of the staircase, cleared the banister and landed next to Richard with barely a thud. He was still watching the magnificent display of cascading glass shards when Sunni wrapped the chain around him.
The chain had the effect of a stun gun on a human. Richard dropped to the ground as if someone had kicked his feet out of from under him. He lay sprawled on the floor, staring at Sunni in shocked surprise. She had no idea how long the effect would last, so she jumped forward and coiled the rest of the chain around his body, trussing him like a Thanksgiving turkey. The chain, which was only a yard or so long, seemed to stretch infinitely, reaching from Richard’s shoulders to his ankles. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, grunting in pain. The strange material obviously had some internal effects as well.
Sunni watched him for a moment until she was satisfied that he couldn’t move. Then she walked gingerly through the shards. She leaned out the window, avoiding the jagged edges that poked up like stalagmites, and held her breath while she searched for Sherman. It didn’t take long. One story down, he was sprawled like a broken doll on the tabletop surface of the carved privet hedge that surrounded the LaForge house.
“Sherman!” Sunni screamed.
Sherman’s eyes opened and he waved weakly at Sunni.
“I’m okay.” He sat up and rolled off the hedge. “I’ll come in by the front door. Just give me a minute.”
She sat on the landing with Richard, watching Isabel and Delia in the foyer below, hoping that Isabel wouldn’t wake up before Sherman returned. Unfortunately Isabel did wake up, but so did Delia. Sunni stood, torn between running downstairs and helping Delia and staying with Richard to make sure he stayed tied up.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got her,” Delia said. She waited calmly while Isabel crept forward, stealthy but awkward, like a zombie lion. When she was close Delia neatly executed a martial arts maneuver, grabbing Isabel’s arm, twisting it behind her and pressing her to the floor. She was kneeling on Isabel’s back when Sherman walked in.