Authors: Guillermo Del Toro,Chuck Hogan
They landed on a basin-shaped wasteland of twisted iron and smoking steel. Torn clothes and burned paper were strewn across the charred ruins; the small island was the ground zero of some catastrophe. Eph turned to the archangel, but it was gone—and in its place was a door. A simple door, standing alone in its frame. A sign affixed to it, written in black Magic Marker, illustrated with gravestones and skeletons and crosses, drawn in a young hand, read:
YOU MAY NOT LIVE BEYOND THIS POINT.
Eph knew this door. And the handwriting. He reached for the knob and opened it, stepping through.
Zack’s bed. Eph’s diary was set upon it, but instead of a tattered cover, the diary was faced in silver, front and back.
Eph sat down upon the bed, feeling the mattress’s familiar give, hearing it creak. He opened his diary, and its parchment pages were those of the
Occido Lumen,
handwritten with illuminated illustrations.
More extraordinary than that was the fact that Eph could read and comprehend the Latin words. He perceived the subtle watermarking that revealed a second layer of text behind the first.
He understood it. In that moment he understood all.
“Ahsudagu-wah.”
As though summoned by the utterance of this very word, the Master stepped through the wall-less door. He threw back the hood shadowing his face, and his clothes fell away; the light of the sun charred his skin, turning it crispy black. Worms wriggled beneath the flesh covering his face.
The Master wanted the book. Eph stood, the feather in his hand a fine sword of silver once again. But instead of attacking, he reversed his grip on the sword’s handle, holding it pointing down—as the
Lumen
instructed.
As the Master rushed at him, Eph drove the silver blade into the black ground.
The initial shockwave rode out over the earth in a watery ripple. The eruption that followed was of divine strength, a fireball of bright light that obliterated the Master and everything around it—leaving only Eph, staring at his hands, the hands that had done this. Young hands—not his own.
He reached up and felt his face. He was no longer Eph.
He was Zack.
A
WAKE, GOODWEATHER.
The Born’s voice called Eph back to consciousness. He opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor, the Born standing over him.
What happened?
Leaving the vision for reality was a shock. Moving from sensory overload to sensory deprivation. Being in the dream had felt like being inside one of the
Lumen
’s illuminated pages. It had seemed more than real.
He sat up, now aware of the headache. The side of his face, sore. Above him, Mr. Quinlan’s face was its usual starkly pale self.
Eph blinked a few times, trying to shake off the lingering hypnotic effect of the vision, clinging to him like sticky afterbirth. “I saw it,” he said.
Saw what?
Eph heard a percussive beating sound then, growing louder, passing overhead, shaking the building. A helicopter.
We are under attack.
Mr. Quinlan helped him to his feet. “Creem,” said Eph. “He told the Master where we are.” Eph held his head. “The Master knows we have the
Lumen.
”
Mr. Quinlan turned and faced the door. He stood still, as though listening.
They have taken Joaquin.
Eph heard footsteps, soft and distant. Bare feet. Vampires.
Mr. Quinlan grabbed Eph’s arm and lifted him to his feet. Eph looked into Mr. Quinlan’s red eyes, remembering the dream’s end—then quickly put it out of his mind, focusing on the threat at hand.
Give me your spare sword.
Eph did, and after collecting his diary and throwing on his pack, he followed Mr. Quinlan into the corridor. They turned right, finding stairs leading down to the basement, where they entered the underground corridors. Vampires were already in the passages. Noises carried as though conducted on a current. Human yells and sword slashing.
Eph pulled out his sword, turning on his flashlight. Mr. Quinlan moved with great speed, Eph trying to keep up. In a flash, Mr. Quinlan zoomed ahead, and when Eph rounded the corner his beam of light found two decapitated vampires.
Behind you.
Another came out of a side room, Eph spinning and running it through the chest with his blade. The silver weakened it, and Eph withdrew the blade and quickly sliced through its neck.
Mr. Quinlan moved ahead, rushing into battles, slaying vampires before the creatures had a chance to attack. In this way they proceeded through the passageways of the subterranean asylum. A stairway marked with Gus’s fluorescent paint brought them to a passage that led to another stairway, back up into the basement of a campus building.
They exited the mathematics building near the center of the campus, behind the library. Their presence immediately attracted the attention of the invading vampires, who came running at them from all sides without regard for the silver weapons they faced. Mr. Quinlan, with his blazing speed and natural immunity to the infectious worms contained in their caustic white blood, cut down three times as many
strigoi
as Eph.
An army helicopter approached from the water, swooping overhead, curling hard over the campus buildings. Eph saw the gun mount, though his mind rejected the image at first. He saw the bald vampire head behind the long barrel, then heard the reports, yet still could not process it until he saw the rounds impact the stone walk near his feet—strafing gunfire heading for him and Mr. Quinlan. Eph turned with Mr. Quinlan and ran for cover, getting in under the overhang of the nearest building as the helicopter swung out to come around again.
They ran to the doorway, ducking out of sight for the moment but not entering the building—too easy to become trapped. Eph fumbled out his night scope and held it to his eye just long enough to see dozens of glowing green vampires entering the amphitheater-style quad, like undead gladiators called into battle.
Mr. Quinlan was still next to him, more still than usual. He stared straight ahead as though seeing something somewhere else.
The Master is here.
“What?” Eph looked around. “It must be here for the book.”
The Master is here for everything.
“Where is the book?”
Fet knows.
“You don’t?”
I last saw it in the library. In his hands as he looked for a facsimile to forge …
“Let’s go,” said Eph.
Mr. Quinlan did not hesitate. The giant, domed library was almost directly ahead of them, at the front of the quad basin. He raced out from the doorway and the overhang, slashing an oncoming vampire as he went. Eph followed fast, seeing the helicopter coming back around, wide to his right. He cut down the steps, then back up, the gun firing semiautomatic now, chips of granite pricking at his shins.
The helicopter slowed, hovering over the quad, affording the shooter more stability. Eph ducked between two thick pillars holding up the front portico of the library, partially shielding him from the gunfire. Ahead of him, a vampire got close to Mr. Quinlan and had, as its reward, its head manually torn off its torso. Mr. Quinlan held the door open for Eph, who ran inside.
He stopped halfway through the rotunda. Eph could feel the Master’s presence somewhere within the library. It wasn’t a scent or a vibration; it was the way the air moved in the Master’s wake, curling around itself, creating odd cross-currents.
Mr. Quinlan ran past him, into the main reading room.
“Fet!” called Eph, hearing noises like books falling in the distance. “Nora!”
No reply. He rushed after Mr. Quinlan, but with his sword out, moving it here and there, aware of the Master. He had lost Mr. Quinlan for the moment and so pulled out his flashlight, turning it on.
After nearly a year of disuse, the library had become profoundly dusty. Eph saw the dust hanging in the air in the bright cone of his beam. As he trained his light down along the stacks to an open area at the other end, he noticed a disruption in the dust, as from something moving faster than the eye could see. This disruption, this breathlike rearrangement of particles, moved straight toward Eph at incredible speed.
Eph was struck hard from behind and knocked down. He looked up above him just in time to see Mr. Quinlan take a hard swipe at the advancing air. His sword struck nothing, but on his follow-through he positioned his body to deflect the onrushing threat. The impact was tremendous, though Mr. Quinlan had the advantage of balance.
A stack of bookshelves collapsed next to Eph with tremendous force, the steel fixture driven into the carpeted floor. The loss of momentum revealed the Master, rolling off the downed shelves. Eph saw the dark lord’s face—a moment, just enough to see the worms scuttling madly beneath the surface of its flesh—staring at it before the creature righted itself.
A classic rope-a-dope. Mr. Quinlan had ducked out, drawing the Master to an unguarded Eph, only to blindside it as it attacked. The Master realized this at the same time Eph did, unused as it was to being duped.
BASTARD
.
The Master was angry. It rose up and lashed out at Mr. Quinlan, unable to do any lasting damage because of the sword, but going in low and thrusting the Born into the facing book stack.
Then it started away, a black blur, back through the rotunda room.
Mr. Quinlan righted himself quickly and raised up Eph with his free hand. They went running after the Master, through the rotunda room, looking for Fet.
Eph heard a scream, identified it as belonging to Nora, and raced into a side room. He found her with his flashlight. Other vampires had entered from the opposite end, one of them threatening Nora from its perch at the top of a row of stacks, another pair pelting Fet with books. Mr. Quinlan launched himself from a chair, driving at the vampire atop the stacks, catching its neck in his free hand while running it through with his sword, and falling with it into the next row of stacks. That freed Nora to go after the book-hurling vampires. Eph could feel the Master but failed to find it with his flashlight. The marauders were purposeful distractions, Eph knew, but also legitimate threats. He raced down a lane parallel to Fet and Nora’s and met two more intruders coming through the far door.
Eph brandished his sword, but they did not stop. They ran at him and he ran straight at them. He slayed them easily—too easily. Their purpose was simply to occupy him. Eph encountered another one entering but, before attacking it, first risked a look back around the end of the row at Fet.
Fet was slashing and hacking, shielding his face and eyes from the books being thrown at him.
Eph turned and sidestepped the vampire that was nearly upon him, driving his blade through its throat. Another two appeared at the door. Eph made ready to fight them off when he was struck hard by a blow across his left ear. He turned with his flashlight beam and found another vampire standing astride the stacks, hurling books at him. Eph knew then that he had to get out of there.
As he cut down the oncoming pair of sacrificial
strigoi,
Eph saw Mr. Quinlan streak across the rear of the room. Mr. Quinlan shouldered the book-wielding nuisance off the stacks, launching the vampire across the room—then stopped. He turned in Fet’s direction, and, seeing this, so did Eph.
He watched Fet’s broad blade slice into another wilding vampire—just as the Master descended from the stacks above him, landing behind Fet. Fet was aware of the Master, somehow, and tried to turn and slash at it. But the Master gripped Fet’s backpack, pulling down sharply. The pack slipped back to Fet’s elbows, pinning his arms behind him.
Fet could have shaken free, but that would have meant relinquishing his pack. Mr. Quinlan leaped down off the book stack, racing at the Master. The Master used the thick, sharp nail of its talon-like middle finger to sever the padded shoulder straps, cutting the pack away from Fet even as Fet fought for it. Fet turned and lunged at the Master, and at his pack, with no regard for himself. The Master caught him one-handedly and hurled him—as easily as a book—directly at Mr. Quinlan.
Their collision was violent and loud.
Eph saw the Master with the book bag in hand. Nora faced him now, from the end of her row, standing before him, sword out. What Nora could not see—but the Master and Eph could—were two female vampires racing along the tops of the stacks behind her.
Eph yelled to Nora, but she was transfixed. The Master’s murmur. Eph yelled again, even as he moved, running sword-first at the Master.
The Master turned, deftly anticipating Eph’s attack—but not Eph’s aim. Eph sliced not at the Master’s body, but at the severed strap of the pack itself, just below the Master’s grip. He wanted the
Lumen.
He clipped the dangling strap and the bag dropped to the library floor. Eph’s momentum took him past the dodging Master—and the action was enough to break Nora’s trance. She turned and saw the
strigoi
above her, about to strike. Their stingers lashed out, but Nora’s silver sword kept them at bay.
The Master looked back at Eph with ferocious disgust. Eph was off balance and vulnerable to attack—but Mr. Quinlan was getting back on his feet. The Master scooped up the bag of books before Eph could and raced to the rear door.
Mr. Quinlan was up. The Born looked back at Eph, just for a moment, then turned and rushed out the door after the Master. He had no choice. They had to have that book.
G
us chopped at the bloodsucker running at him through the basement, hitting it again before it went down. He ran upstairs to the classroom where Joaquin was and found him lying atop the desk with his head on a folded blanket. He should have been deep in a narcotic sleep, but his eyes were open and staring at the ceiling.
Gus knew. There were no obvious symptoms—it was too early for that—but he could tell that Mr. Quinlan was right. A combination of the bacterial infection, the drugs, and the vampire sting had Joaquin in a stupor.
“Adios.”
Gus did away with him. One swift chop of his sword, and then he stood staring at the unholy mess he had made until the noises from the building stirred him back into action.
The helicopter had returned outside. He heard gunfire and wanted to get out there. But first he ran back into the underground passages. He attacked and slaughtered two unlucky vampires who intervened on his way to his power room. He broke all of his batteries off their chargers, dumping them into a bag with his lamps and his night scopes.
He was alone now—truly alone. And his hideout was blown.
He strapped one Luma lamp to his free hand and readied his sword and set off to fuck up some bloodsuckers.
E
ph made his way to a flight of stairs, looking for an exit. He had to get outside.
A door gave way to a loading area and the humid coolness of the night air. Eph switched off his flashlight, trying to orient himself. No vampires, not at the moment. The helicopter was somewhere on the other side of the library, over the quad. Eph started off toward the maintenance garage, where Gus stored his larger weapons. They were vastly outnumbered, and this hand-to-sword combat worked in the Master’s favor. They needed more firepower.
As Eph ran from building to building, anticipating attacks from any direction, he became aware of a presence racing along the rooftops of the campus buildings. A creature following him. Eph caught only glimpses of a partial silhouette, but that was all he needed. He was certain he knew who it was.
As he approached the garage, he noticed a light on inside. That meant a lamp, and a lamp meant a human. Eph ran up to the entrance, close enough to see that the garage door was open. He saw the tricked-out silver grille of a vehicle, Creem’s yellow Hummer backed inside.