The vampire was wearing a pair of threadbare pyjamas, and although his eyes had reddened involuntarily, he was looking down at Larissa with complete bewilderment on his face. His arms hung at his sides, tear tracks lined his weathered face, and he looked pleadingly at Jamie and Kate as they ran into the room.
“Help me!” he pleaded. “Please help me!”
“Larissa!” shouted Jamie. “Put him down!”
Larissa reached up with her free hand and pushed the purple visor away from her face. Jamie recoiled; her eyes were blazing red, her mouth twisted into a grimace of fury. She stared at him for a long moment, then threw the old vampire on to his narrow bed, where he curled into a ball and began to whisper to himself.
Jamie strode forward, anger clouding his judgement, and grabbed Larissa’s hands.
“Contain!” he yelled. “Not destroy! You told me you understood that!”
Larissa jerked her hands from his grip, with such force that he stumbled backwards. Kate caught him before he fell; he felt himself redden with embarrassment and was thankful, not for the first time, for the visor that hid his face.
“What does it matter?” Larissa growled. “It’s a vampire. We destroy vampires. That’s what we do, right? They’re all the same, they’re all monsters, so that’s what we do.”
She whirled away and smashed her fist into the wall, which exploded in a cloud of dust and powdered plaster. She rounded on Jamie, her chest heaving as she fought to control the anger that had risen through her without warning.
The sight of the old man, forgotten and left to rot in this horrible place, had broken something loose inside her, something she usually managed to keep buried; the awful prospect that even if she and Jamie and Kate kept getting lucky, kept surviving, then the end result was that she would have to watch them get old and die, leaving her alone. She felt the weight of the curse that had been inflicted on her by Grey, the casual way he had torn the chance of a normal life away from her, and she was suddenly furious, more furious than she could ever remember being.
“Aren’t we?” she screamed at Jamie. “We’re all monsters! We all deserve to be destroyed! That’s what your mother thinks, and I know that’s what you think, so why won’t you admit it, you
coward
!”
Very slowly, Jamie reached up and removed his helmet. His face was pale, his eyes wide. He dropped the helmet to the floor, and stepped towards her. She backed away, hissing loudly, but he kept moving, until her back was against the wall, and she had nowhere to go. He reached out and took her hands again, and this time she let him, the red fire in her eyes blazing uncontrollably.
Then he wrapped his arms round her and, after a moment’s resistance, she let herself be drawn against him.
Kate stood by the doorway, and watched them. She wanted to be angry, to be jealous, but she wasn’t. She watched them with envy, wishing Shaun was there, so she too had someone who could make the darkness recede, if only for a moment. And she realised in that moment how thoughtlessly the three of them had treated each other, and resolved that it would not continue.
The vampire on the bed was watching too, a look of fear on his elderly face. Kate crossed the room, and knelt beside him.
“What’s your name?” she asked, pushing back her visor.
“Ted,” he whispered. “Ted Ellison.”
“What happened to you, Ted?”
“I… I don’t know. I was asleep, and then there were screams, and shouting, and then someone came in here, and then… I don’t know, I’m sorry, I don’t know.”
He began to cry again, and she shushed him, gently. Jamie and Larissa joined her beside the bed, and she quietly asked Jamie for a restraining belt. He unclipped it and handed it down to her.
“Ted,” she said, softly. “We’re not going to hurt you. We’re going to get you out of here, and we’re going to take you somewhere safe. But I need you to put this on for me, OK?”
Ted looked at the belt in her hand; a flicker of fear crossed his face, but he slowly sat up nonetheless. She helped him lift his arms and slide the harness over his shoulders, then clipped it in place over his heart. She pulled a cylindrical detonator from her belt and twisted it a single click to the right. Red lights appeared on the two devices, then she replaced the detonator in its loop.
“I need you to stay here, Ted,” she said. “We’ll be back for you as soon as we check whether everyone else is OK. We’re not going to leave you here. I promise.”
Ted nodded his head, and then smiled, a crooked grin that lit up his aged features.
“What is it?” Kate asked, smiling back.
“You remind me of my granddaughter,” said Ted. “She’s always telling me what to do as well.”
“You just wait here for us to come back, and hopefully you’ll get to see her again soon. All right?”
Ted nodded again, and Kate stood up.
Squad G-17 looked at each other; there were things to be said,
but all three knew it was not the time to say them. Instead, Jamie lowered his visor into place, and the two girls did likewise.
“Let’s see who else is still here,” he said.
Squad G-17 moved quickly along the remainder of the corridor, checking the rooms on both sides.
They found evidence of struggle, they found spilled blood, and in one room they found the tattered remains of an elderly man who had been literally pulled apart. Kate gagged at the sight, at the thick smell of blood in the small room, and Jamie pulled her quickly back into the corridor and closed the door. He held her shoulder for a long moment, then told her there was nothing she could do. After a second, she nodded, and they moved on, until the three Operators were standing outside the last room at the end of the corridor.
Jamie eased the door open, and heard a series of gasps from the darkness. He felt for the light switch, found it, flicked it on and stepped into the room, with Larissa and Kate behind him. The bed had been turned on its side and set on the floor at an angle to the walls, creating a triangular space behind it, which had been covered by the stripped mattress. It looked like the kind of fort children would make when playing, the kind you could pretend was a Rebel Alliance base or the secret lair of a Bond villain. They stepped forward, and Larissa pulled the mattress aside.
Beneath it, piled together in a cowering mass of pale skin and nightclothes, were twelve of the residents of the Twilight Care Home. Twelve pairs of eyes stared up at the three black-clad figures, wide with fright and damp with tears. For a long moment, no one moved, or said a word. Then Jamie gripped the bed, and pulled it aside.
An old woman, her body pressed tightly against a man who
Jamie guessed was her husband, cried out, and grabbed pitifully for the bed frame, as if the flimsy grid of metal and springs was all that was protecting them from the fate that had befallen so many of their fellow residents. Her husband shushed her, stroking her hair with a gnarled, arthritic hand, staring defiantly at the blank purple visage of the figure that had crouched down in front of them.
“Get it over with,” he spat.
Jamie recoiled, then suddenly realised how frightening his appearance must be to these terrified survivors. He quickly pushed the visor away from his face, and looked down at the huddled men and women.
“Thank God,” whispered an elderly lady, gripping a silver cross tightly in her hand. “Oh, thank God.”
“You’re safe,” said Jamie, in as comforting a voice as he could manage. His throat was tight at the thought of the ordeal these men and women had been through. “They’re gone, you’re safe. I promise.”
Several of the survivors began to cry, and he heard a gasp of sorrow through the earpiece in his helmet. He glanced round, saw that Larissa and Kate had also lifted their visors, and that Kate was holding a hand over her mouth.
“Is anyone hurt?” he asked, returning his attention to the cowering men and women. “Does anyone need a doctor?”
The survivors looked at each other, and shook their heads, one by one.
“Good,” said Jamie. “That’s good. Can you all walk?”
“We can walk,” said the man who had spoken. “We can all walk fine.”
“OK,” said Jamie. “I need you to walk down to the ground floor, and out of the building through the main door. There are
police outside, who’ll take care of you. But I need you to go now. All right?”
The men and women murmured their agreement. Jamie took one woman’s hand, and gently lifted her to her feet. She stared at him, her face a mixture of confusion and naked relief. Larissa and Kate leant forward and began to do the same, and quickly the room was full as the survivors were helped to their feet.
Jamie took hold of the shoulder of the man who had spoken.
“I need you to lead them out,” he said. “Can you do that? I need you to be honest with me.”
“I can do that,” he replied, staring into Jamie’s eyes.
“Good. Do it now, please.”
The man held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded sharply, and walked steadily towards the door. The rest of the survivors followed him; a moment later, they were gone.
Squad G-17 stared at each other. Jamie gave both girls a fierce smile of pride, and led them out of the room, towards the communal hall at the other end of the corridor, steeling himself as he did so for what they might find behind its large double doors.
The huge room was empty.
Jamie pushed the doors open with the barrel of his T-Bone, and the squad slipped into the hall with their weapons at their shoulders, ready for the worst their imaginations could conjure.
But it was empty.
Small circles of plastic chairs were still gathered round metal tables, on which chess sets and draughts boards still stood, and tea sets and piles of small plates remained unbroken. The long table to their right, where meals were served to the residents, was upright. A small television sat in the corner of the room in front
of a semi-circle of moth-eaten sofas, playing BBC News 24 at a volume that was barely audible. Punishing fluorescent lights still blazed overhead, giving the room the sickly feeling of a vast operating theatre.
They spread out, searching every square inch for blood or signs of violence, but found none. They regrouped in the middle of the huge room, and raised their visors.
“Whoever did this is gone,” said Jamie. “I think they took some of the residents with them, but they’re gone. There’s nothing for us to do here.”
“Agreed,” said Kate. “We should get out of here.”
Larissa opened her mouth to concur, then her eyes suddenly exploded with a red darker than Jamie had ever seen before, a red that was almost black. She fell to her knees, her fangs involuntarily sliding into view, her nostrils flaring, her head twisted back and her gaze fixed on the ceiling.
“What’s wrong?” shouted Jamie, dropping to his knees beside her, and grabbing her shoulders. “Larissa, what is it?”
“We’re… dead,” she gasped, her throat convulsing. “He’s… coming.”
“Dracula?” asked Kate, her voice tight with terror.
“No… it’s—”
Then the ceiling above them exploded, and the three Operators were sent crashing to the ground by a torrent of tumbling lead and flying plaster.
Larissa was the first to her feet, before the thick cloud of dust began to clear. The paralysis that had gripped her was broken, and a guttural growl emerged from her throat as she hauled Jamie and Kate to their feet.
“Stay behind me,” she said, softly. She was staring into the swirling dust at the far end of the room. “Both of you stay behind me.”
“What’s going on?” asked Kate. “What is it, Larissa?”
“Be quiet,” Larissa hissed. Her head was twitching to the left and right, like an animal searching for a scent on the air. She had thrown her helmet aside, and Jamie and Kate did the same; the visual filters were useless in the dense dust. Jamie put a placatory hand on her shoulder, and manoeuvred them both in behind Larissa.
“There,” whispered Larissa, raising a single finger.
In the direction she was pointing, two dark shapes could be seen through the thinning cloud.
“Identify yourself!” shouted Jamie, pointing his T-Bone at the taller of the two figures. “Identify yourself right now!”
A laugh floated through the dust, a high laugh full of genuine amusement. Then the last of the dust settled, and Squad G-17 saw what had caused the wide hole in the ceiling above them, through which a handful of stars could be seen.
“Oh God,” whispered Kate.
Standing before them, less than four metres away, was Valentin Rusmanov.
His pale, elegant face was instantly recognisable; the face of one of the three most wanted vampires in the world, one of the three Generals turned by Dracula himself more than four hundred years ago, a face that was now smiling warmly at the three black-clad figures standing before him.
“I flatter myself that the looks on your faces mean you recognise me,” he said, his voice soft and smooth. “However, a gentleman always introduces himself. I am Valentin Rusmanov, and this is my associate, Lamberton.”
He extended a thin arm, clad in the sleeve of an immaculate navy blue suit, and the second figure stepped forward. It was a vampire in his fifties, clad in an equally beautifully tailored tuxedo. He dipped his head in a perfunctory bow, then stepped back a respectful distance behind his master, next to an utterly incongruous pile of elegant, dark leather luggage.
“You, of course, are Jamie Carpenter,” said Valentin, and red flickered momentarily in the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know your companions, however. Perhaps you would be good enough to introduce us?”
“Certainly,” said Jamie, staring at the ancient vampire, his heart racing in his chest, his mind screaming at him to stall for time. “These are Department 19 Operators Larissa Kinley and Kate Randall.”
“A pleasure to meet you both,” said Valentin, smiling widely. “And a genuine, long-awaited delight to meet you, Mr Carpenter. You look very much like your grandfather, did you know that?”
Jamie frowned, disarmed by Valentin’s friendly tone. “My grandfather?” he asked.
“John Carpenter,” replied Valentin. “He was only a few years older than you are now when I met him for the first time. He was a somewhat unexpected guest in my home in New York, not much less than a century ago. He was extremely brave, which I’m told is something you and he have in common. Or have I been misinformed?”