The Meridian Gamble (65 page)

Then again, I’m one of the Luminos.
I’m immortal, in a sense, just as much as the vampires. I can come back again
and again, as many times that I need to, while they’re trapped in the same form
that will never age. And death will come for them eventually, or at least
that’s their greatest fear. And the vampires won’t ever return, or at least
they won’t have any memory of who they once were if they do. I try to tell
myself that I have nothing to fear, from the tunnel or the vampire catacombs,
to fill myself with confidence. But a part of me still wants to run back to the
hotel, screaming in terror.

After a hundred yards or so,
there’s a break in the wall of the tunnel, literally; concrete blocks have been
knocked out in a rough way, forming a hole you can step through. Even though
the corridor continues on, Roland leads me through the opening.

He pulls out the flashlight,
flipping it on.

“Can’t you see without that thing?”
I say.

“Of course I can. This is for you.”

“Oh, right.”

He flashes it around, to give me an
idea of where we’re going. The tunnel on the other side of the hole is bizarre,
almost like a cave, but there are little rocks that form the walls that are
almost like tiles. The floor is rough, dirty, and I feel ridiculous for wearing
high heeled shoes. And considering that they’re the nicest pumps I’ve ever worn
in my life, it feels like a waste.

“Roland, these shoes are worth a
fortune and I’m going to destroy them down here. They probably cost more than I
make in a week.”

“Let them get damaged. It doesn’t
matter, I can buy you 100 pairs of those shoes if you want.”

Suddenly, a wind comes whistling
toward us, through the cave tunnel we’re in, and I stop dead in my tracks. I
can sense it, the dark energy of this place, the psychic emanations of
something truly evil going on. It’s almost palpable, like a wave of energy that
hits my face. And I know in an instant that it was a mistake to ever trust the
vampires in the first place. I should have run from Adam, I was foolish to be
seduced by their beauty, because they’ve led me into darkness.

I back up, straining against
Roland’s grip around my arm, which holds me with an immovable force.

“I can’t do it. I can’t go any
further.”

“You must, Saga. You must,” he whispers,
almost a plead.

I turn to look at him, begging for
mercy with my eyes. But Roland just stares back down at me solemnly.

“I can’t stand it. This feeling of
knowing I’m walking to my death. Just like with Marion, when I knew she was
going to put me into that goddamn tank. It’s like I don’t want to go forward,
yet I can’t go back.”

“It’s not your death. I promise
that. If any of the Elders wanted your death, they would reach out and strangle
you with their minds. They could kill us both a hundred different ways, without
even lifting a finger.”

Without even lifting a finger. It’s
frightening to think they’re that powerful. And my mind flashes to the Elder.
And I can see him clearly, the vampire with the jagged fangs, sitting in a dark
room, with a tiny plate of embers warming it. The other two are with him, the
beautiful woman with the red hair, and the dark-haired man who never seems to
say anything. And their heads are covered with robes, leaving only a shadowy
glimpse of their faces. And after a brief image of them comes into my mind, I
feel a compulsion to keep walking. It isn’t words or sentences, but a kind of
subtle communication with feelings, one that grows stronger. Though I resist,
my feet move forward, almost with a will of their own. I can’t tell if I’m
being moved with the power of their minds, or if they’re manipulating my brain,
forcing me to step when I don’t want to. But whatever it is, it’s clear that
the Elders intend to give me a demonstration of their power.

And Roland looks to me, strangely,
as I continue to step down the path.

“Can you sense that?” I say to
Roland.

“No, nothing. What is it?”

“The Elders. Or Elder. They’re
making me do this. They’re making me walk forward.”

“Well, then we’d better keep
moving.”

And when I walk along of my own
volition, I can feel their power release me. I try not to think it, because
they’re minds are so strong they probably know my every thought even through my
defenses … but I hate the Elders. I hate them for manipulating me in this way.

We keep moving forward, and there’s
a huge black rat in the tunnel, another bad sign. I’m about to scream, but
Roland looks down at it intently. He hisses at the creature, and it scampers
away, running for dear life.

After a few more steps, we finally
come upon an opening, a chamber of sorts with rough stairs that lead up to a
higher platform. Roland waves the flashlight around, to give me a sense of our
surroundings, and I can see that there’s refuse on the ground, an old shoe and
some newspapers, what looks like a discarded sleeping bag. And there are empty
soda cans and junk food wrappers.

“What is this crap? Do people come
down here?”

“Teenagers. They have little
parties, occasionally concerts. Or they run away from home, thinking this is
somewhere they can stay. Sometimes tourists come down here, hoping to
experience the famous catacombs that extend beneath Paris. There were even film
societies that would sneak down here to project banned movies in one of the
large chambers. And, not surprisingly, some of them were never heard from
again.”

We go up the steps that lead to the
platform above, and Roland begins pressing on a portion of the wall. He is
careful about it, as if he’s a safecracker, moving his hands about to various
positions. And I can’t really tell what he’s doing, all I see are little rocks
on the wall that he presses his digits against.

And Roland talks to me, as he
performs his task.

“People venture down to these
catacombs and disappear all the time, and the police make a show of sealing the
place. Eventually, the civilians will break into it again. And someone will
disappear again. The vampires don’t even need to bother trying to lure people
down here, their natural curiosity draws them in. And what’s even better is,
the police don’t make much of an effort to try to scour the place. They know
something is going on, and they can’t stand to come down here. But they’ll
never find the entrance to the lair, no matter how hard they try.”

Roland has a look of intense
concentration on his face, as he settles on one patch of the rough cave wall.
And he seems to press on it with increased pressure.

“I don’t know why this gives me
trouble, after all this time. I suppose it’s a testament to the design, but
sometimes, I just want to break it all down.”

He pushes harder, and the rough
surface finally gives way. A door seems to form in the wall. It pushes back,
seemingly by magic, and reveals a room beyond.

It’s amazing. You wouldn’t even
have known the cave wall gave way, the edge of the door fits so seamlessly.

We walk into a chamber, and finally
I can see that I’m in a structure that is man-made, or vampire-made, that
doesn’t consist of odd caves. There are pillars and a low stone wall around an
opening that looks down to a floor below. From somewhere above, there’s a dull
light, but most of the illumination comes from candles interspersed about the
room. It seems odd, that they would get their lighting from candles. I can see
the flickering everywhere, but I can’t help but to wonder how many they need to
burn through each day, unless they use those weird electric candles, but that
seems unlikely, down here.

The air feels dank, and the walls
and floors seem dusty and dirty, their one similarity to the tunnels. The place
feels ancient, like an old temple, something an archaeologist might discover. I
wondered how far the structure spans, if there are even people living here, it
all seems so quiet.

And then I hear it, a low moaning
that is almost inaudible, followed by a muffled scream, from off in the
distance.

A figure comes striding toward us
purposefully, dressed in flowing robes that are red and velvety, and even
though they are shapeless, for some reason I think it’s a man. He wears a hood
over his head, but I can see that his lips are ridiculously puffy and full,
like a model’s. And they form a smile as he approaches us.

“Roland, so good to see you.”

“Vincenzo.”

The man hugs Roland, and kisses him
on both cheeks. And Roland smiles widely, the way you would when greeting an
old friend.

“How have you been?”

“I’m afraid I’ve been better.
Problems with Marion. I’m sure you’ve heard by now.”

“We don’t worry much about Marion
over here. She’s a pest. Why don’t you just stay here permanently, with us?”

“I just might. I could definitely
be persuaded,” Roland says.

The man lowers his hood, and I can
just make out his features in the semi-darkness. He’s young, and looks like a
teenager. He must have been turned at an age when he first became a man.
Vincenzo has olive skin, and his hair is dyed blonde. I think he’s perhaps
Greek or Italian. And as he speaks with Roland, I realize that the robed
vampire seemingly refuses to acknowledge me. It would seem I’m beneath his
contempt.

Finally, he turns my way, and looks
me over, almost as an afterthought. And I can’t help but feel that he stares at
me not as a person, but as a thing.

“And what treat have you brought us
today?”

“Not a treat, I’m afraid.”

“Are we not to sip from her?”

“No one will be drinking from this
one.”

Vincenzo stares at me more closely,
and I can feel a flicker of him scanning me.

“Her mind seems quite fortified.
Don’t tell me you’ve brought one of the Luminos here?”

“I’ve brought someone for the
Elders to meet.”

Vincenzo’s eyes widen, and he looks
to Roland in shock.

“Vincenzo, I’d like to introduce
you to Meridian.”

“So nice to meet you,” I say, with
just a hint of sarcasm. And I offer my hand.

His eyes bug out just a bit more,
and he looks at me in horror, recoiling. You’d think I had just stuck a paw in
his face, and I pull the hand away. But Vincenzo regains his composure, and
stares at Roland, seriously.

“I claim first right of drink.”

“I said that no one will be
drinking from her.”

“We won’t kill her, if that’s what
you’re worried about,” he says, smiling to me in a condescending way. “But we
have rules here, too. She is human, and if she is to stay here, at least one of
us must be allowed to drink, if we so choose. And I do.”

I sigh in frustration, and look
away. Roland’s right, these vampires are different. They seem to enjoy chomping
into necks in an uncivilized way, like Count Dracula, and it’s all too much.
After being drained to the edge of my life and dropped in the tanks, the last
thing I want is for this insufferable vampire to clamp down on my vein. And I
understand now why the Luminos hate them so much, how they see them as
monsters. This Paris vampire has no respect for life, and I seriously consider
tapping into my Luminos skills, to try to put a stake through his heart.

I look to Roland, but he seems
hesitant, almost confused.

“Really, Roland?”

“I’m sorry, Meridian,” he says.

And the vampire, Vincenzo, smiles
at me.

“Oh, it’s not so bad, my sweet.
Just one little sip.”

“Fine, but no venom. Bite someone
else first, because I refuse to be under your sway.”

“What did you say?” Vincenzo
hisses.

“No venom, or I won’t be leading
anyone into anything. And that’s a promise.”

And I say it not to Vincenzo, but
to the elder vampires who I know are monitoring me. But it’s a mistake, because
Vincenzo’s eyes light up with rage.

“How dare you speak to me that way,
you cow! You’ll be lucky if I don’t rip out your throat on this night.”

He pops out his fangs and moves
toward me, and before Roland can stop him, Vincenzo freezes in his tracks. His
eyes widen just a bit, and he begins shaking, seemingly involuntarily. Vincenzo
falls to the ground, spasming, and I think he’s having some sort of seizure.
But from the way he screams, the horrible noise that comes from his mouth, I
realize he’s writhing in pain.

“No. Nooooooo!”

I’m confused at first, but I
realize someone is doing this to him. And it’s not Roland. I can tell from the
look on my protector’s face that he realizes the same thing I do; that this is
the work of the Elders.

The attack doesn’t stop. I can
almost see Vincenzo’s face turning red in the semi-darkness and the veins
bulging out on his forehead. He flails about on the ground, letting out another
blood-curdling scream that seems to bring an extra stillness to the rest of the
place. For a moment, I think the Elders are going to kill him.

“What are they doing?” I ask Roland.

“They’re making him relive every
ounce of pain he’s inflicted over the past year. Maybe more. And in the case of
Vincenzo, that’s quite a lot.”

And I try not to smile. It’s the
first thing I’ve found to like about these Elders.

Finally, the arrogant vampire
begins to regain his composure. He slowly rises to his feet, looking like he’s
going to cry. Vincenzo is covered in sweat, but he brushes aside a lock of hair
that’s sticking to his face, and tries to regain some small semblance of his
dignity.

“I told you she was here to see the
Elders,” Roland says.

“Yes, apparently that is the case,”
Vincenzo says, looking me over with a newfound respect.

“Do you still need that drink?” I
ask, in a bitchy tone.

And it’s another mistake. Vincenzo
stares at me with anger, in a way that makes me think he’ll burn holes through
my chest with his gaze.

“I think it would be better if I
give you a tour of the place. And perhaps we can have a bit of fun in that
way.”