L
ONG
live the new Robby Pennybaker,” the Elite vampires said in chorus, lifting their flutes of warm blood.
As they toasted their newest member, their robes shimmered, the colors and textures reminding Benedikte of far harbors and exotic markets. Behind the Elites, in the emporium’s background, Groupies applauded, strewn around the steamy room like cats, resting on and rubbing up against each other.
These newer creatures didn’t have the Elites’ “class,” Benedikte thought. Instead, the Groupies were trendy beings, dressed in netlike material, their hair streaked with neon colors and gelled into odd styles. They’d been created by Geneva and Ginny before the equally frivolous twin vampires had adventured to the Old World years ago.
Yes, Benedikte ruled over them all, resting on a cushioned seat on a dais. He’d wanted to be here for this celebration, so he’d shifted into Sorin’s shape, as he often did anyway. His real son was hidden in the private rooms so that none of the Groupies would be aware of the body doubling. However, since “Dr. Eternity” had been the one to turn every Elite into a vampire, the stars all knew when Benedikte was with them. They’d vowed never to reveal his presence—a security precaution.
He scanned all of his dear family, keeping his eye on one in particular: Eva.
His veins sang at the sight of her. It felt like his heart was cracking open and humming at the same time.
She was amidst the toasting Elites, holding Robby as the child vampire clung to her dress. When her gaze connected with Benedikte, he motioned her to him.
While she moved through her brethren—oh, how she moved—she brought Robby with her. The twelve-year-old was shrinking away from his sibling Elites as they reached out to congratulate him. But all he wanted was Eva.
A spear of…jealousy?…dug into Benedikte at the sight of her taking care of the boy. She did it so easily. Why couldn’t she show Benedikte the same kind of simple affection?
Eva and Robby climbed up the steps; she bowed and saluted. The boy would learn about Underground etiquette later.
“Master,” Eva said, blond hair sliding down over her face as she held her fingers to her forehead. It hid her expression.
“Sit with me.”
She stood, revealed, giving her maker a friendly smile while leading Robby to a chair next to Benedikte’s.
As she started to go to her master, the boy said, “Eva?” and held out his thin arms for her to stay.
Benedikte smiled at his new son. Robby, a precocious child star who had gone through a rebellious stage just before his vampiric change. He had grown his black hair into shapeless nonconformity and pierced his nose and eyebrow, too.
A boy vampire. Unnatural.
Benedikte’s smile dimmed as he shifted his gaze to Eva. He’d only done this for her.
Keeping her distance, she sat on the arm of Robby’s chair, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. She seemed as content as always; in the year she’d been Underground, that’s how she always behaved, even when Benedikte caught the lonely splinters in her gaze.
Still…“You’re not pleased?” he asked.
“Of course I am.” She squeezed Robby’s shoulder as he stared adoringly up at her.
Benedikte nodded at the boy. “He’s calmed down now. You have a good effect on him.”
She’d been in the private rooms when Robby had first been brought here. Since the boy had given them trouble during his fake murder—Robby had attacked an innocent bystander and almost exposed his vampirism to the public—Sorin had been forced to ease Robby’s mind to blankness as he’d been transported Underground. It was an aberration nobody enjoyed. Then Eva had met them in the private rooms and helped to pacify Robby when the shock of change had fully hit.
That had been hours ago. It’d taken that long for their new vampire to stop screaming.
Even though Eva kept smiling at Benedikte, she used their exclusive maker/high-child Awareness to express her true feelings.
Did you think of the consequences when you turned a human child? He’s going to always have this body, Benedikte.
Shot down, he didn’t answer for a moment.
Her smile remained for Robby’s sake. Even in Benedikte’s dejection, he could still imagine she was the angel who’d gazed down on him from a movie screen, flowers in her hair, wearing her purity like an elusive fragrance. For nights afterward, Benedikte had talked himself into believing that her smile was just for him, as Tereza’s never would be again.
He finally answered his favorite Elite.
Nathan Pennybaker told me that he and his son had discussed Robby’s future, and that Robby wanted a new, even more successful child-actor career. He can have that with my help, Eva. As a vampire, he can have a second life, a third one, a
—
Did you ever ask
Robby?
With her sharp question, Benedikte could discern her own hurt. Deep down, Eva felt that she’d made the wrong decision in being here, that she’d been talked into the Underground by silver-tongued agents and managers who’d preyed on her fear of growing older and losing a career that supported her family.
I love you,
he said,
and you know I’d do anything to avoid hurting you.
Love.
Eva’s smile slipped as she stared at him.
You don’t know anything about love.
I know enough to feel it.
You don’t have feelings. You think you do, but they’re only wishes. You want what you can’t have.
The Elites finished their drinks and called to the Groupies for more. Benedikte gazed at them. His children. His dreams.
Most of the Groupies crawled over to their social betters, skin smooth underneath their netted shirts and dresses. In the meantime, one of them turned on the small televisions stacked in modern-art disarray around the emporium, bringing to light multiple images of MTV dancing in tandem.
The performer, Madonna, wiggled across the screens, and the Groupies moved their hips in imitation, rising in front of the Elites in a sinuous dance.
But when the TV revealed that Madonna was wearing a crucifix, the pets all gasped at once, averting their faces.
After a stunned pause at seeing the jewelry, the Elites laughed. They’d inherited their master’s immunity but, since they weren’t old enough to lose as much faith as Benedikte, the first sight of something like a crucifix still took them aback.
But within seconds, the shock was forgotten.
Hungers stoked, most of the higher-level vampires grabbed their choice of pet, running their hands below the netted clothing, exploring flesh and priming it for their playful bites.
Immortal gods, Benedikte thought. His progeny, ever-living idols in the eyes of society. And that made
him
a part of their heavenly rotation, too. They reflected what he was, just like moons sharing light from the sun.
He heard Eva’s silent laugh.
Look at you. If you’re so in love with all of us—with our “specialness”—why haven’t you ever tried to be famous yourself?
He blocked her out, not wanting to admit that maybe he was the moon and they were the sun. He didn’t have the courage to do what they did, to find out if he would “make it” in their Above world.
You’re avoiding all the hard questions again,
she added.
Slowly, he turned back to Eva, wounded by her anger.
She cradled the boy’s head.
Aside from everything else, you can’t pretend Robby’s never going to give you grief. I know him. I’ve worked with him. He’s a troubled kid and what you’ve done to him is going to create a monster.
I thought a companion
—
A companion?
Her eyes flared.
What’re you going to do next? Try to turn my husband? Or maybe even my daughter someday?
At the mention of Frank Madison, Benedikte steeled himself to take more punches.
Don’t even think of touching anyone else I was close to,
she continued.
Do you understand?
Each word was another illusion shattered. Benedikte’s vision fragmented until he felt like he was looking out of a cracked mirror.
What you saw wasn’t always what you got. He’d always known that. So why was it killing him to admit it?
He reached out to her, but she moved away. The only closeness she allowed him was during her monthly infusions. That was all. He might never get anything more.
But he hoped. He couldn’t stop.
Strangely, that hope heated up in the pit of his temper. It melted, twisted, shaped itself into hideous fury. He wanted to strike out in any way possible.
Maybe,
he said,
down the road, your husband will find someone else, Eva. And maybe your
daughter
could love me if you can’t.
She flew up from her seat. Robby shrank into himself, his widened gaze raised to her.
“Don’t ever threaten anyone I love,” she said out loud, voice quivering. “I’ll hurt you beyond comprehension without even a second thought.”
Then, gathering Robby, she guided the boy away, never even looking back at Benedikte as she disappeared in the direction of her room.
Never even looking back.
In the chasm, the Elites and their pets enjoyed themselves, a sea of skin and blood undulating on the floor. Mouths on bellies, red and slick, fangs scraping over thighs. Legs parted, hips arched and rocking. A temple of pleasure.
Dispassionately, Benedikte watched them, Master of it all.
His body sank, even though he physically remained stiff postured in his chair. He seemed to leak out of the form that resembled Sorin, a puddle on the floor, dirtied and diseased.
For the past thirty years, he’d lived the high life with this emerging Underground, adding to the numbers of his precious Elites, watching Groupies come to exist, seeing to it that Sorin’s Guard corps would be ready to defend them when and if the next blood brother attacked.
Yet it’d only taken a woman’s smile to slay him.
From that point on, he died a daily death, wanting her. His hope started to wither, spiraling downward into a chasm of worthless wishes. Long nights, endless, empty…
Then, finally, over twenty eternal years later, everything changed.
One night, his television sparkled with a picture shown during an Eva Claremont entertainment special: Dawn Madison, all grown up.
Slowly, Benedikte sat up on his divan.
Hope stirring.
Resurrecting.
T
HE
oppression in the hidden room told Dawn it was late, but more rest wasn’t an option. She’d already gotten enough to revitalize, even though she wouldn’t say she was fully back to Xena fighting form yet.
Frank obviously didn’t agree so much with getting a move on. He was leaning against the wall near the fireplace, messing around with the wire innards of an old radio that would’ve been right at home in the seventies. Apparently, it was one of Eva’s “antiques” and he’d taken it upon himself to play Hero of Domestic Bliss by making the piece of junk work.
“Why haven’t you been putting that kind of energy into devising some makeshift weapons?” Dawn was wandering around in search of anything she could use to bully Julia. “You could even be trying to yank that chain out of the wall.”
“Why would I run off when you just got here?”
Hah-hah. “Because Wifey has you chained up? Some people might consider that a threat.”
“It’s a…what do you call it? Formality. It’s Julia’s idea more than Eva’s, really. This Underground is obviously suspicious of me ’cos I worked with Limpet. Jonah ain’t one of their favorite people. Eva asks me about him all the time.”
Dawn remembered the mind probe Eva had put on
her
about The Voice. “She asks you about Jonah, or she mind screws you?”
Frank kept on working, never looking up, even though his rough complexion went ruddy. “She’s fiddled with my head, but I can keep her out.”
Training from Limpet.
It made Dawn wonder…. Had she inherited Frank’s blocking abilities? Is that why she’d been a natural from the start?
“Anyway,” she said, scanning the baseboards, “I’m glad to hear you’re still on our side. I wasn’t so sure.”
Now her father glanced up from the radio, baffled.
She motioned to her neck, her chains chiming. Then she gestured to him. When Dawn had allowed Eva into the superficial areas of her mind, her mom had shown her that she could heal things like bites, among all her other talents, so Frank wouldn’t have much of a mark right now.
Even so, exactly how powerful would Frank’s kind of vamp be? Less than Eva, for sure, but more than a Groupie.
Clearly surprised, her dad put a hand over his jugular, almost like he was pressing a love letter into a secret book.
It explained a lot, even why he would betray Limpet and Associates, a group he’d supposedly been loyal to—as loyal as Kiko. And Breisi.
Dawn chuffed. “Do you think Breisi’ll be just as understanding with you as you are with the wife? I mean, when she finds out you’re Eva’s vampire boy and all….”
Dropping his hand from his neck, Frank went back to work. He had a look on his face that said he couldn’t believe Dawn would think he’d ever give in so easily. That he would ever give up on Breisi.
Dawn didn’t back off. “Did you exchange blood? Is Eva your poison of choice now?”
Without warning, he heaved the radio to the ground. It vomited parts, then rattled to stillness.
Father and daughter stared at each other, needing to say so much, yet…there was a line to be crossed here. She didn’t want to know about her parents’ private lives—what child did?—but it’d come to so much more than that now.
Didn’t Frank know what he was doing?
Or
did
he know? Maybe Dawn had spent so much time distancing herself from him that he’d truly become the reformed, savvier man Breisi talked about.
Who the hell was he?
Who were
any
of them?
Their impasse cracked apart when the door opened. Julia entered first, holding her dart gun and aiming it at Dawn. Always the primary target.
Eva came in next, rosy-cheeked and dressed in a new flowy summer dress. The style was her signature—one that captured Frank, if his adoring gaze proved anything.
But the actress herself was anything but flowy. She actually seemed more nervous than ever. “There’s something on the news….” She trailed off, watching her family’s faces. “Julia, I’d like to be alone with them.”
The Servant left the room, but Dawn knew she’d be watching the monitors, guarding her lady.
As if to address that point, Eva said, “The cameras are off. This is family time.” She jammed a lock of hair behind an ear. “I don’t really want to be showing you this, but I…I just think I should. You’re…” She fidgeted. “You’re both involved in this situation.”
She blew out a breath then picked up the remote from a slot on the side of the TV, pressing a button. It flashed on, warming up, clearing to a solid picture.
A tilted room. Someone was behind the camera, fumbling with it, trying to adjust the aim upright.
Based on the tweed upholstery and cheap wood paneling, Dawn guessed that they were seeing the inside of an old camper.
“Almost got the perfect frame,” said an anonymous female’s voice from the TV.
Now Eva talked as the camerawoman played with the focus some more. “It’s a live feed from the new Vampire Killer. That’s what the newscasters are saying.”
Dawn stepped closer to the screen. “The murderer’s a woman?” She turned to Eva. “Did you know we were investigating this?” Is that why she was showing it to them?
“As you’re so fond of reminding me,
I’m
a vampire. I keep abreast of these things.” Evasively, Eva looked at the TV again. “I don’t know anything about technology, but she’s managed a live broadcast. When this started, she said she’s sharing her ‘finale’ with the world, that she’s going to kill someone at the stroke of midnight—the demons’ play hour.”
One look at the clock on the TV—11:36—and Dawn wanted to punch something. Even if the only reason she’d been investigating this killer was because the solution might lead to Frank, she felt like she could’ve saved another woman’s life.
Then déjà vu hit her. Wait. Tamsin Greene had broadcast her death on the Internet. Had the Vampire Killer taken inspiration from that? Death made public, a spectator sport…
My God. This was the killer’s letter to the press, the ultimate performance to gain fame. She didn’t even care if this got her caught. But punishment wouldn’t exist for this person—not if she were in it just for long-lasting celebrity.
Isn’t that what Matt Lonigan had hinted?
Frank’s chains rattled as he moved away from the wall, closer to the TV and nearer to Dawn. “I don’t wanna see this. It’s like one of those terrorist beheading tapes.”
The Eva-vamp put her hand over her mouth.
On the TV, the camera stabilized. “There,” said the Vampire Killer. Then she turned the lens on the victim.
Even though the picture was clear, it took Dawn a few moments to comprehend it. And when she did, the floor seemed to veer. She grabbed on to Frank to stay standing.
He grabbed her, too.
There, in living color, sat a bound and duct tape–gagged Breisi, her bobbed hair splicing over one cheek like dark, open cuts. Although she was sweating, her gaze was steady.
She didn’t want them to worry if they happened to be watching, Dawn thought. Nausea made her weak when she pictured the crime-scene photo that might come out of this.
Not another photo, God, no, not another one.
Dawn leaned against Frank, who held her tight.
Eva was watching them both, eyes round and fearful. She wanted to see just how much they cared, didn’t she?
“I didn’t know,” she said pleadingly. “I didn’t realize Breisi was the one—”
“Liar!” Dawn ground out. “This is probably a repeat of another broadcast that they’re playing over and over, and you knew damned well it was Breisi.”
Wrapping her arms over her chest, Eva stared at the floor. “I told you, this is a live feed. That wasn’t a lie.”
The Vampire Killer was talking again, still off camera. “Look what I caught—a genuine vampire hunter. And, wouldn’t you know, I’m the Vampire Killer. But that doesn’t mean I
murder
vampires. It means I’ll
be
one. So…the more suspected hunters I can do away with now, the better life will be later. Understand?”
She took the camera and moved it up and down, making Breisi’s entire bound body nod in pretend agreement.
Breisi merely flicked the killer a glance and that was it. Dawn had never been so proud of anyone: the way Breisi kept her cool, the confidence she displayed.
Hang in there, Breez, just until…
Hold up—was Breisi calm because she knew The Voice would finally come outside for this? He’d never let Breisi die. He and Kiko were probably already on their way to wherever she was, and thanks to Eva’s faked calls from Dawn, they were no doubt wondering why their third hunter wasn’t answering their summons. But they wouldn’t have time to deal with that—not right now.
11:40.
Dawn began twisting her chain bracelet, like she could work her way out of it.
As the Vampire Killer started taunting her victim in earnest—prey teasing its failed hunter—Eva raised her head again, eyes on her family.
“If your friend is a slayer—if you’re all slayers—this Vampire Killer might go after
you
next. This is what you would have to face if you went back out there.”
“Thanks to you and your Underground,” Dawn said.
“You really think I had some sort of hand in this?” It sounded like Eva was on the cusp of tears again. “You truly believe I could ever be a part of this perversity?”
A perversity? Didn’t that describe
vampires
in the most basic language?
Instead of starting another useless argument, Dawn glanced up at Frank. His face was a mask of horror as he watched Breisi, but his eyes…His eyes were bloodshot, full of love, proving that he didn’t fully belong to Eva.
“Do you see how much he loves her?” Dawn said to the vamp.
And that’s when she saw a revelation on her mother’s face: Eva yearned for Frank to close the book on his old life, and Breisi’s death would do that, hopefully bringing him to her once and for all.
That
’s why she was showing them this broadcast, to let him know Breisi was truly out of the contest.
“You
want
her dead,” Dawn said.
“No, I don’t. I don’t want this to happen at all.” Eva stopped, shocked, as if realizing how much she did want it. But then she vehemently shook her head. “I hate what’s happening!”
“Do you know that standing by and just watching—whether you want it to happen or not—makes
you
dead to me? As dead as you’ve been my whole life? Or…it’s even worse, because now I know what kind of…person…you really are. You’re nothing like the mom I always wanted.” Dawn bent closer to Eva. “I wish I didn’t have
any
part of you inside of me.”
“Don’t say that….” Eva came forward to touch her daughter, just as she’d done when she was masquerading as Jac. Comfort from a false friend. It wasn’t going to work this time.
Dawn dodged the vampire actress, near tears again.
“You and your Underground,” she added.
“Dead.”
Eva raised her arms and wrapped them around her head, covering her ears. “Do you realize how much it hurts to hear you talk like that?” She was sobbing now.
Frank was still watching the TV, as if he could protect Breisi with just a look. Prayers were probably running through his head, blocking out his daughter and wife.
But as Dawn watched her mother cry, the little girl inside of her was weeping, too.
Mommy, I love you. I’ve idolized you so much that it hurts to know I’ll never be as good as I thought you were. It hurts to know my perception of you was never real.
Furiously, Eva sprang to the remote and pressed the TV off. The image of Breisi disappeared, retracting into the center of a blackened screen.
11:44.
Frank went stiff, sweat dampening his T-shirt against his skin. “Where is she, Eva?”
Taken aback, Dawn looked at both her parents. They were watching each other as if they were in one another’s heads. It went beyond a “parent look.” It was something much different….
“Eva.” Frank’s body was visibly wobbling. “Tell me. If it’s the last thing I ever ask, please tell me where Breisi is.”
“You know I can’t.” There was a fear in her gaze. “The Master wants this. I can’t risk disobeying him a—” She cut herself off.
Had she just about said “again”? What did that mean?
“And if you don’t obey,” Dawn said, “your punishment would be mortality—you’d get old, just like the rest of us, God forbid.”
A greater level of terror filled Eva’s eyes, but Dawn wasn’t sure if it was because of her mom’s ego or because Dawn was firing a round of hate bullets into her chest.
Frank fell to his knees in front of his wife, wrapping his arms around her legs and burying his face in her dress.
Now, Dawn felt the tears pushing at her. They weakened her more than all the physical crap she’d already suffered. “Mom…” She deliberately used the endearment. “If you can stop this from happening, please, tell us now. If you really, truly don’t want this to happen, convince us by putting an end to it. Please.”
But when Dawn reached out for her mother’s hand, it was out of pure love. For Breisi.
Eva clung to the touch her daughter had finally allowed, resting a hand on Frank’s head at the same time. Then she raised Dawn’s fingers to her cheek, leaning against them and wetting Dawn’s skin with tears.
“I know you have enough power to help,” Dawn whispered.
Eva jerked, not looking at her daughter.
“And if you did it,” Dawn said, encouraged, “you’d at least give us a chance to have some kind of relationship from now on.”
“If I helped,” Eva said, “you wouldn’t fight me anymore?”
“I’d do anything.” Even march into hell.
As Eva peered up, a decision balanced in her agonized gaze.
Stunned that it might possibly happen, Dawn watched her mom carefully, trying hard to summon what she had once thought was so good about Jac. She caught a flash of kindheartedness. Maybe it was just an illusion but it was something.
“I know how much you’d be risking,” Dawn said, “but it’d be worth it. I’d know you were truly the mom I thought you’d be.”