Authors: Jonah Hewitt
“Good,” thought Nephys. He didn’t like to talk about this stuff anyway. Then after another pause he decided to offer something else.
“Look,” he blurted, “Everyone who tries to change the way things are doesn’t last too long down here. They get dragged away or lose themselves, and…” and he felt really awkward saying this, “I just wouldn’t want that to happen to you.”
Maggie smiled very slightly and said, “Thank you, Nephys. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you either.” Hiero made a noise that sounded something like a note of approval, which was odd, but Nephys tried to ignore it.
They talked on through the night about the history of Limbo, Elysium, the gates of Erebus, and the various jobs the children did. For the most part, Hiero just droned quietly, listening to them, which was very uncharacteristic of him.
Finally, after a natural pause in the conversation, Nephys asked Maggie a question.
“Maggie?”
“Yeah, Nep?” He didn’t mind the nickname nearly so much now.
“Do you remember
green
?”
“
Green
?” she said anxiously, “Yeah, I remember
green
.” Maggie smiled a little as if it were a ridiculous question, but the smile faded quickly.
“What’s it like?” Nephys asked.
Maggie snorted a little. She opened her mouth to speak but then stopped. It wasn’t exactly an easy thing to answer. “Well,” she began cautiously, “Green is kind of cool, like blue, but it’s not cold like blue, it’s brilliant and bright and comforting all at once, because it bridges the gap between yellow, which is all warm and sunny, and blue, which is cold and thoughtful.” She looked up at Nephys’ puzzled face and could tell he was having just as hard a time with yellow as he was with green. She was just confusing him with abstractions. She decided to try a different tactic.
“Trees are green. Grass is green. Some apples are green. Money is green, well it is in
my
country. Water ponds can be green too. Frogs and lizards are green, but not always.” This was very frustrating thought Maggie. Why was this so hard? “Most leafy plants are green, well…they aren’t here, but they are back up there.”
She looked at Nep, but she could tell by his drifting glance he wasn’t quite grasping it yet, and then she remembered something she had forgotten.
“My daughter’s eyes are green.” And Maggie became very quiet and sad for a moment.
“I can’t remember it.” Nephys shook his head from side to side ever so slightly. “I know back home our fields were green, and palm trees and reeds were all green. I even remember that a few of our gods were green, like Osiris, but…try as hard as I can, I just can’t see it for myself. Knowing that something
is
green and knowing what green
is
, really are two different things…aren’t they?”
Maggie turned away a bit, but then turned back and nodded in agreement. She was trying desperately to hold on to the memory of her daughter’s brilliant-green eyes. She could still see their verdant color now, but she knew the day would come when “green” was just a word, and the actual color would be something long forgotten. But then she thought she would hold on to the idea “My daughter’s eyes are green” forever. Even if she didn’t know what “green” was anymore, someday, somehow, she just knew she would see her daughter again. She would look into her eyes and know that
that
color,
that
was the color green. Somehow, that gave her hope.
She shook herself from thought and wiped a faint trace of a tear from her left eye with her pinkie finger. “Why do you ask, Nep?”
“No reason,” he shrugged, “Just curious…something I saw today.” And when he said that he desperately wished he could see the stone again. Hiero and Maggie exchanged worrisome looks at each other and then stared at Nephys. “Those two sure have developed a connection haven’t they?” thought Nephys.
“Well,” Maggie said suddenly, “I haven’t got the foggiest idea what time it is in this place with no sun or moon or even a clock, but I suspect you need to be getting to sleep soon.”
“No one sleeps in Limbo. Not really.”
Maggie’s shoulders just fell. “This place is just a never-ending party isn’t it, Nep?” she said sarcastically. She took her now familiar pose, hands in back pockets. “Why on earth is it impossible to sleep in Limbo?”
“Same reason you can’t do anything else with any real conviction. Anyone who tries too hard loses themselves.”
Maggie just looked down and shook her head. “All eternity with nothing to do and you can’t even take a nap!” She seemed too resigned to be surprised or disappointed anymore. Hiero came out from under the bed and began to chuckle.
“Well then why do you have a bed? What do you do with it then?”
“Well, I kind of lie down for a while, rest, at least, and try to think about what sleep used to feel like.”
“What it used to
feel
like?” Maggie said incredulously.
“And other things,” Nephys said flatly.
“Well let’s let you get to bed to rest and…
think
at least.”
Nephys immediately felt embarrassed. There was only one bed and he hadn’t thought about where Maggie was going to sleep, but before he could say anything she spoke. “Don’t worry about me. There’s a place to lie down in your
foyer
.” “
Foyer –
” he liked the way she had said that word. It felt more important the way she said it. “If I need a pillow I can always inflate the ol’ whoopee cushion here.” And with that she nudged Hiero hard with her foot. Hiero jumped back but said nothing but his usual drone.
Nephys stood there awkwardly and didn’t know what to do. She moved slightly towards him as if to hug him or something, but he tightened, and she got the message and stepped back.
“Well goodnight, Nep,” she said simply, arms at her side.
Nephys nodded and Maggie walked to the atrium.
“Come on you bile-filled rucksack.” Hiero gave out an angry “pharnt!” but followed by her side like a surly dog. She certainly had a way with Hiero that Nephys had never seen before.
Nephys lay down on the simple cot. It had been an amazing day. Any one of the strange things that had happened to him would have made it exceptional by itself, but altogether it was overwhelming. He felt genuinely tired and the subtle aftertaste of bitterness; wonderful, awful bitterness, still clung to the back of his tongue. He thought about the stone and all the things Maggie had mentioned: trees and leaves and ponds, frogs and lizards and green apples. What else? Her daughter’s eyes. He thought a lot about those eyes and the stone and thought it strange he wanted to see them both so badly. He drifted off imagining the color, and wasn’t the slightest bit afraid he would lose himself at all. It had been a good day. The first good day in more than a thousand years.
As he drifted, he thought he heard Maggie speaking to Hiero in the atrium.
“Something’s up with you, isn’t it, you disgusting excuse for an overstuffed alligator handbag.”
Hiero just huffed angrily.
“You know more than you are letting on don’t you? You didn’t just happen upon me
or
Nep by accident, did you?”
Hiero was dead silent.
“All right then,” she continued, “Let’s make a deal. I’ll keep your secrets…and you can keep mine.”
Hiero hooted sharply once. That usually meant, “yes.”
Chapter Eighteen
The Long Drive
Tim’s vintage Chevy Impala didn’t have the largest selection of vintage eight-tracks. This was the fifth time this trip that Schuyler and Miles had heard Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” and Schuyler’s patience was wearing thin. When Tim started singing along with the chorus, Schuyler couldn’t take it anymore.
“Enough!” Schuyler reached up and pushed the eject button on the eight track player. Tim just pushed the cassette back in.
“I keep telling you…don’t touch my tunes,
dude
.”
Schuyler gave Tim a look of death. At any other time, Miles was sure Schuyler would have drained Tim dry for that, just out of spite, but after Hokharty’s wholehearted endorsement of Tim earlier, Schuyler was a bit wary. One just couldn’t take a bite out of the servant of the most powerful vampire in the world without consequences. But Schuyler was reaching his limits.
“Y’Know,
Tim
, just because you drive a crap car from the seventies, it doesn’t mean you have to listen to crap music from the seventies, too.”
Tim couldn’t let that go and he started into another spirited defense of his musical choices. That led to another snide comment by Schuyler and that started a whole new round of arguing, insults and occasional frantic yelling. Each time Schuyler spoke Tim’s name with a special contempt he usually only reserved for people like…well people like
Miles
. Miles just sat in the back silently and didn’t get involved. It was nice not to be the target of Schuyler’s spite for a change.
Miles had listened to the two squabble from the back seat the whole way from Rivenden. Miles and Schuyler had spent most of the day inside the manor, anxiously awaiting Hokharty’s return, just as they had been commanded. Graber had spent the time whipping the remaining vampires into shape, mostly by chasing them up and down the manor and throwing them through walls. Schuyler, and even Miles, had fared surprisingly well. It was impressive how much a partially decapitated zombie can sharpen even a vampire’s already sharp reflexes. After a while, Graber left them to their own devices. Where he went or what he was up to no one knew. That was a merciful break, but then the kittens practiced by turning Miles into their personal scratching post. Sky seemed to really enjoy that.
When Hokharty returned that afternoon after having spent most of the day with Tim running errands doing who-knows-what – Tim looked even more shell-shocked than usual – he had a special task for the three of them: retrieve one thirteen-year-old Lucy Miller,
unharmed
, and return her to Rivenden ASAP. The only thing that they knew about Lucy Miller was that she was the daughter of the corpse Graber had laid on the lounge in the wrecked ballroom at Rivenden. Hokharty had treated the body with a special deference, so it was obviously important. It turned out that Hokharty did have a master, some important bloke named the “Necromancer,” and that he needed this Lucy Miller at all costs.
Why Hokharty or Graber couldn’t come, they didn’t say, but they obviously had pressing business elsewhere. Hokharty had made three things perfectly clear before they left however. One, the girl was not to be harmed in any way. Two, she was very powerful, deadly in fact, particularly to vampires. That raised Sky’s eyebrows. Fortunately, she had no idea how powerful she was which was their only advantage. It did complicate things though. She could not be forced or compelled to come, but she had to be
persuaded
to come of her own free will. Third, and finally, Tim was in charge. The first two conditions didn’t seem to bother Schuyler. He was already working up new monologues and angles on how to trick the young lady into compliance, but they were very troubling to Miles. He couldn’t imagine how they were supposed to manage to persuade someone who had the power to kill vampires to come willingly. It was the third condition however, that was currently chafing Schuyler.
They had left before sunset to get a head start on the trip to Harrisburg and to make sure that Miles and Schuyler had a full night to work with before dawn. (Even then, Schuyler had insisted on taking time to change clothes. He was now wearing a pair of black jeans, a white silk blazer and a pair of vintage, black-and-white wingtips, but still no shirt.) That meant that Miles and Schuyler had to ride the first hour in the trunk to avoid a deadly sunburn. (Graber had knocked a hole in the outside wall of Rivenden so Tim could back the large 70’s sedan right up to the manor doors. That corpse was like a walking bulldozer.)
The trunk was at least roomy enough, but after the first half hour, Schuyler became convinced Tim was driving around after dark just to spite them. Tim didn’t pull over and let them out until Schuyler started kicking huge dents into the trunk from the inside. Tim insisted that Schuyler had to pay for that, and Schuyler said he would as soon as he got that hour of his life back.
That had been the start of the never-ending argument. Since then they had argued about, in this order, the route, the mission, the route again, the music selection, the mission again, the route again for the third time, and now the music selection once more and finally the quality of the various classic rock bands of the seventies. As long as Tim was taking the heat off of Miles, Miles was content to sit in the back and just enjoy the show.
“Every Boston song is the same dang four chords, that’s all I’m saying!” Schuyler yelled emphatically. Tim fumed, but stewed in silence for a while.
After a long, tense pause, Tim decided to start picking at the scab again.
“You kids have no respect for the classics,” Tim mumbled under his breath.
“Kids?!” Schuyler was indignant, “You
do
know I’m a vampire, right? After all the events of the past night that fact hasn’t escaped you,
has
it?!
Look,
Renfield
, I may look seventeen to you, but I’m a heckuvalot older than I look. How old are you,
Tim
, Twenty-five? Twenty-six?!!
“Twenty-eight,” Tim said sheepishly.
“Right. Twenty-eight,” Schuyler spat nastily, “So you weren’t even
ALIVE
in the 70’s, dude, but I lived through the entire soul-sucking, mind-wasting excuse of a decade, from the avocado corduroy bell-bottoms to the glam rock feather boas. I’ve suffered through hedonistic disco and folk music from hippies whose B.O. could melt your face off, and the last thing I need is for some snot-nosed poser hipster punk to tell me what a golden age it was for music, BECAUSE IT WASN”T!!” On those last words, Schuyler let his full fury and power as a vampire out for just a second. His fangs seemed sharper and longer and his eyes flashed blood red, if only for a moment.
Vampires normally didn’t look any different than normal humans, perhaps a bit leaner, paler or toothsome, but that was all. Vampires had a certain amount of glamour, a psychic haze that made people pass over the reality of what they were. Instead of seeing dead things, animated corpses…
monsters
, they saw what they wanted to see. Only once in a rare while did a vampire break the illusion, usually in a fit of rage or anger, and let anyone get a real good look at what they
really
were. Tim must have caught a glimpse of it however, because this time he didn’t have a ready comeback but just drove on silently.
A few tense moments later Schuyler blurted out in frustration, “Where are we?!!”
Tim jumped, but only a little. “Just outside Ephrata.”
“Where the heck is Ephrata?!” Schuyler shot back.
“Here.” Tim said sarcastically, regaining some courage.
Schuyler just shook his head, “Who the heck takes 322 to Harrisburg anyway?!”
“It’s the most direct route,” Tim began again. Miles smiled a little. This was the fourth time they had hashed over this topic.
“But why not the turnpike?! For crying out loud, it’s faster.” Schuyler had made this riposte before too.
“It’s
faster
, BUT the turnpike
costs
too much.” This was the same reply Tim had made before, but Schuyler’s redirect was new.
“You are the
Renfield
to the
most powerful vampire in the world
and you are worried about toll roads?!” When Schuyler spoke the words, “The most powerful vampire in the world,” he lowered his voice and said it with an exasperated, overwrought emphasis to express his full frustration with Tim. It was a rhetorical question, uttered more in disbelief to himself than directly at Tim, but Tim answered it anyway.
“Look, he may be the
most powerful vampire in the world
,” Tim replied, mocking Schuyler’s melodramatic emphasis, “but he hasn’t exactly got deep pockets, ok?! In fact, this entire adventure (including all of the gas money!), has been fully funded out of the Bank of Tim, and it doesn’t exactly have an endless credit limit!”
Tim seemed frantic, desperate. Miles was beginning to realize that Tim had been through an awful lot in the last eighteen hours. No sleep, no rest, no food, and that was usually enough to hash a mortal even without the introduction to the customs of the creatures of the night. The stress was really beginning to show. Tim was approaching a breaking point which was almost as scary as seeing a vampire’s true form.
“Wallach had money,
Renfield
,” Schuyler muttered contemptuously.
“Yeah, well Wallach’s dead. Beef jerky!! Ok?! And he didn’t exactly leave a will or even an ATM card!!” And then as an afterthought he added, “And stop calling me RENFIELD!! Geez! What does that even
mean
, anyway?!”
Schuyler just shook his head in disbelief. “Are you
kidding
me?” Miles just smiled. This was at least something different to argue about than the route or the music selection.
“Haven’t you read
any
books about vampires?” Schuyler said more in disbelief than in anger.
“Sure, I’ve read tons on vampires, Saberhagen and Hambly, but I don’t recall anything about any Renfields,” Tim offered in all honesty.
“What about Stoker?” Schuyler asked impatiently.
“Who?” Tim said earnestly. Even Miles widened his eyes at this. Schuyler turned around and looked at Miles with a confused look of desperation, hopeful for any sympathy. Miles just shrugged at him and tried to suppress a smile. Schuyler turned back to Tim.
“Stoker?!! BRAM
Freaking
STOKER?!!” Schuyler said, emphasizing each syllable carefully. “Only the most important vampire author…
ever!
”
“Never heard of him,” Tim said flatly.
“Never heard of. . .” Schuyler was cut off by another one of his silent fits. This usually meant the argument was going to go back to their mission. Right on cue, Schuyler folded his arms across his chest and began muttering in utter resignation.
“Doomed. I’m
doomed.
I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere on a mission for the Father of All Vampires with the most ignorant Renfield in the world and the worst vampire in history.”
“Oy!” Miles piped up. This was the first thing he had said in nearly an hour. He didn’t know why Schuyler had to drag him into this.
“Oh, so you
ARE
listening,” Schuyler said sarcastically. Miles was about to jump in to defend his vampire honor when Tim spoke up.
“Yeah, well…you two don’t know as much as you think you do either.”
Schuyler and Miles exchanged looks. What was Tim driving at?
“What
are
you talking about, Renfield?” Schuyler asked skeptically. Tim just laughed a little, unnerving, crazy laugh. He was becoming a more proper Renfield all the time. Schuyler turned around to look at Miles as if to say, “He’s just pulling our leg.” But Miles wasn’t so sure. Tim was gripping the steering wheel like a man clinging to a lifeline in icy waters. Miles decided to try a different tack.
“Tim, what do ya know that you aren’t tellin’ us?” Miles’ plaintive question was met with another disconcerting laugh. There was a pause, but then Tim swallowed hard and spoke plainly.
“Dudes, it’s the end of the world.”
“Get out of here.” Schuyler was trying to be dismissive, but Miles could tell there was a moment of hesitation to Schuyler’s usual snide reply.
“No, seriously, it’s the end of the world.”
“Did Hokharty tell ya that?” Miles asked.
“No…but it’s obvious isn’t it?”
“No way,” Schuyler shot out.
“Seriously,” Tim responded.
“How do you know that?” Schuyler retorted.
Tim shook his head a few times, but then began shakily. “He’s…
we
are gathering an army.”
“Really?” Miles asked amazed.
“Really,” Tim said emphatically, “Why do you think he’s sent us to fetch this girl…she’s important, she’s some kind of vampire queen or something. Maybe she’s a…”
“Not a chance!” Schuyler broke in, “There are no other vampires within miles of Philadelphia. Wallach would have known! He would have killed them or forced them to join Rivenden.”
“Dude,” Tim began, “Wallach didn’t know the half of what was out there – vampires and other…
dead
things
.”
“
Other
dead things?” Schuyler asked, “Like what?!”
“Like
not
vampires, I dunno what you call them!!” Tim gestured wildly with one hand in frustration. Then added, “I’m still new at this.”