Vampires Don't Sparkle: Deathless Book 3 (15 page)

“No, but I doubt anything else you can teach me in the next few minutes will prepare me,” he said, stifling a sigh. He glanced down at the golden bracelet around his right wrist. It seemed an unnecessarily cruel invention, one even worse than the slave collars he’d read about in the Wheel of Time. If Jordan hadn’t hated him before, then he certainly would now.

“A fair answer. Follow me, and I’ll escort you. Do as I do, and avoid speaking unless spoken to,” Anput said, offering him her arm. Trevor took it, allowing her to lead him from the chamber. “These affairs are all about position. Others will attempt to spar verbally, those who win gaining favor with Ra.”

“You called it a banquet,” Trevor said, unsure how to broach the subject. He took several more steps up the corridor before continuing. “What exactly are we eating?”

“Ahh, I forget how little you know,” Anput said, shooting him a sly smile. “We will consume the hearts and minds of exotic thralls. This will gift us with potent memories, and we will share what we learn as we dine. It provides an easy method of conversation. Doubly so, since every memory is new in this strange age. Almost everything we learn is vastly different from our own time.”

Trevor felt a moment of revulsion, but he stifled it. It was unlikely that the victims supplying their meal would be consumed alive. More likely they were already dead, zombies harvested for this grisly meal.
 

You must set aside this squeamishness, my host. Power comes from feeding. Even were that not so you are no longer human. You are deathless, and must consume the flesh of others to survive.

He was still gnawing on the problem when they entered a spacious chamber. They threaded through row after row of dark wooden tables, probably a legacy of when Ra’s court had been far more numerous. Each was covered with an array of animal pictographs, though many were faded from simple age. He was amazed they still held the weight of Ra and her court.

Anput leaned closer, whispering low enough that only he could hear. “The man seated to Ra’s left is Horus, son of Isis and Osiris. You already know Anubis, and you met Wepwawet briefly.”

Wepwawet, the wolf-headed creature that so closely resembled a werewolf, now wore golden garments. There was no sign of weaponry on his person, though Trevor had no doubt he could produce one if needed.

Anubis sat between Wepwawet and Ra. The jackal-headed god glared grimly at Trevor, though his earlier ire seemed muted. Perhaps because of Anput. Trevor glanced furtively at Ra, who lounged in her chair just as she had the throne earlier. She’d donned a sheer gown cut from a silky material Trevor had never seen.

The figure on her other side, the one Anput had called
Horus
, was strange. He was a shorter man with black skin and a shaven head. He was also the only god Trevor had seen to wear glasses, something he hadn’t even known had existed during the previous age. Horus straightened in his chair, peering through the gold-rimmed lenses as they approached.

“Irakesh has already seated himself across from his mother. He does this to steal prestige,” Anput said, guiding Trevor toward the table.
 

Trevor considered for a long moment, then took the seat to Irakesh’s left. That put him directly across from Horus. Anput gave a tight nod of approval as if he’d done something intelligent, then settled into the empty seat to his left.
 

“Welcome, Trevor Gregg,” Ra said, in that musical voice. He was once again struck by her beauty, though he did his best to suppress that. “I trust that Anput’s instruction in our ways is adequate?”
 

“It is, mighty Ra,” Trevor said, ducking his head in what he hoped she’d take for a seated bow. “I have much to learn, and I hope I don’t embarrass her too badly. If I do so, it’s my fault. Not hers.”

Ra raised a delicate eyebrow, and conversation ceased as everyone focused their attention on him.

“You are an interesting creature, Trevor Gregg,” Ra said, straightening in her seat. She clapped her hands once, and a set of doors at the far end of the chamber swung open. Several zombies garbed in simple black robes pushed trays into the room. They began setting covered platters in front of each person.
 

“It is unheard of for someone to preemptively show weakness,” Anput whispered as a platter was set before her.
 

The servants removed the platters’ covers, revealing porcelain bowls containing brains, hearts, and stomachs. Trevor wanted to be nauseated, but a tide of hunger immediately filled him. He forced himself to watch the others, particularly Ra.
 

She deftly picked apart each organ, savoring tiny morsels for long moments before she’d take another. He looked to Anput, who appeared to be the only person at the table with utensils. She used a knife and a two pronged fork to cut thin slices of flesh.

It was only when he saw her open her mouth to eat one that Trevor finally understood why. Anput had two sharp incisors, the kind of fangs you’d expect to see on a vampire. The rest were as flat as any normal human’s.

She
is
a vampire, my host. A child of Osiris. They are quite different than the strange legends I glimpse in your mind.
 

Interesting. Trevor turned his attention to his own food, forcing himself to rip off small bites. Each brought a small rush of memory, which revealed that his host had once been a tour guide. The man knew all sorts of things about Sakkara, the Pyramids, and the Sphinx. He’d spent countless days exploring them as a child.

“Do you find the meal satisfactory, Trevor?” Ra asked, in that strangely musical voice.

He looked up at her, forcing himself to focus past the rush of memory and emotion from a large morsel of the man’s prefrontal cortex. “More than satisfactory. This is the first food I’ve had in nearly two weeks.”

“You did not eat when you were with Isis’s pack?” Ra asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

“I didn’t want to alarm the humans we were protecting. They already distrusted me enough,” Trevor said, shrugging as he popped a hunk of heart into his mouth.

“This is why we rule the humans, and not they, us,” Ra said, raising a delicate eyebrow in what Trevor took for gentle admonishment. “They live to serve, while we guide the world they live in.”

Trevor wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he shifted the topic of conversation. “I notice Anput is different from the rest of you. My risen calls her a vampire. My people have myths, but I don’t understand how or why that’s different than the deathless.”

“A shrewd question,” Ra said, nodding at Anput. “Tell him, daughter of Osiris.”

Anput used her napkin to dab blood from the corner of her mouth, then set down her utensils before speaking. “In the beginning there were only the deathless, fathered by Osiris and my foul uncle Set. They were powerful, but my father felt they lacked control. He hated what he’d become, hated how his former tribesmen viewed him.

“So it was that Isis led Osiris to the repository at the base of the Ark of the Cradle. The Ark in which we now stand,” Anput explained. The tale was clearly one she’d learned, rather than experienced. “She helped him shape the virus that had changed him, to remake himself into something more human. Something that could blend more easily among his human followers. Osiris became the first vampire, and after his change he was indistinguishable from a normal man.

“My kind are blessed with the same gifts as a deathless, but we prefer to feed on blood rather than flesh,” Anput explained, wearing the same posture Trevor had seen on grad students defending their thesis. “This is why I use utensils, while the rest of you dine with your more…natural attributes.”

“That is the heart of the tale, but Anput leaves out much,” Ra interjected, dabbing her own mouth with her napkin. “Osiris and his desire to be more human became a source of weakness for our people. Many chose to follow, diluting their bloodline with his newly modified virus. It caused a schism among our people, one that eventually erupted into war. At the end of this war I stood triumphant, and Osiris was banished to the frozen north to administer to his few followers.”

“Are deathless and vampires all that different?” Trevor asked.

“Different enough,” Ra shot back, something violent smoldering in her eyes. “It is not so much the change in physical appearance, but rather what it represented. Osiris sought the love of his people, but they’ll never love us. To them we are monsters. He sought to cloak that fact, to curry favor with the sheep. I realized we’d never have their love, so instead I take their fear. I show them my true face, so all know precisely who and what they pray to.”

Something incredibly bright played outside the balcony window, slicing the night like the atomic bomb that had so recently detonated in San Francisco. Trevor rolled from his chair, diving under the table. A smattering of laughter echoed around the room, and Trevor’s cheeks heated in a very un-deathless like fashion. He rose to his feet the room full of mocking smiles.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, glancing back at the balcony. The brightness was gone, like a flash of lightning. Something still crackled in the air though, an afterimage he could almost see.

“The pup’s ignorance is limitless,” Anubis rumbled, broad muzzle splitting into a grin. “Calm yourself, boy. It was merely a sun flash.”

“You have no idea, believe me,” Irakesh muttered, mostly under his breath. He eyed Trevor sidelong, and something beyond hatred lived there.

“Sun flash?” Trevor asked, sinking back into his seat.

“Sun flashes herald a sunstorm,” Anput explained, resting a hand delicately on his shoulder. She withdrew it a moment later. “Sun storms strike without warning, cooking the unprotected.”

“Unprotected mortals,” Ra interjected, leaning forward in her chair. She caught Trevor’s gaze, eyes flaring green. “Humans can be destroyed if caught in a sunstorm. We, however, can draw on their strength. Imagine drinking in the sun’s light for a week or more, but in an instant.”

“What mighty Ra suggests is dangerous,” Horus said, his voice a high, lilting tone that contrasted with everyone else at the table. “Those who drink from sunstorms risk burning themselves up. The power is near limitless.”

Trevor leaned back in his chair, shifting his gaze from person to person. He finally let it settle on Ra. “The event that finally triggered this new age was a coronal mass ejection. I was studying that event before it occurred, and I watched as it crackled across the sky. What you’re describing can only be more CMEs, each more violent than the one I saw.”

Ra raised an eyebrow, eyeing him curiously. “You studied sunstorms?”
 

“You might say that, yes. Before I became deathless I was a scientist,” Trevor explained. He turned to Anput, since he was more likely to get a straight answer there. “Am I right? Are the sunstorms more CMEs?”

Anput didn’t answer him, at least not directly. She turned to Ra, giving a deferential nod of her head. “Mighty Ra, may I have permission to take the pup up to the observatory?”

“You have an observatory?” Trevor asked, struggling to suppress his sudden excitement. The observatory at SDSU had been his second home and he’d clocked endless hours there, each spent studying the sun or other astronomical phenomena.

“You may accompany us,” Ra said, dropping her napkin as she rose to her feet. She waved to one of the dead servants, who began to clear the dishes. “Come, pup. I would hear more of the science in this new age. Perhaps you have learned things even we did not know.”

Chapter 24- Sun Study

Ra swayed from the hall, shapely legs drawing Trevor’s eyes as he followed. Anput rose to join them, but the rest of the figures remained seated. Trevor caught Irakesh’s gaze on the way out, and if anything the hatred had deepened.
 

His jealousy is palpable. You have gained much prestige, while he broods silently. Left behind like a child.

That was definitely ironic. He’d gained prestige by diving under a table like a superstitious yokel. Trevor turned his attention back to Ra, following her from the chamber and up a dizzying array of halls. They climbed stairwell after stairwell, gradually making their way to the apex of the pyramid. The hike would have winded him had he still breathed. Instead, he felt nothing as he climbed.
 

“Ahh, we arrive at last,” Ra said, cresting a final stairwell. She hurried up the black stone, entering a chamber that made Trevor gawk.

Each of the walls was sloped, and they met in a single point at the top of the room. The floor was the same black marble, the walls solid gold. Unlike the rest of the Ark there were no hieroglyphs of any kind; the place was bare of any decoration.

“This is an observatory?” he asked. The walls were opaque, which seemed to preclude any such observation.

“Indeed,” Ra said, sweeping her arms out in an encompassing gesture. The walls faded to transparency, and they were suddenly standing in space. “Watch, and I will show you.”

Trevor spun in a slow circle, marveling at what he was seeing. There was the moon, larger than it could have been anywhere on earth. The sun hung in the distance, impossibly bright, since there was no atmosphere to mute its brilliance. It was as if the Ark had linked to a satellite, and he was observing a holographic representation of whatever that satellite saw. Maybe it had. Maybe the Black Knight satellites were more than just a conspiracy theory.

“This is incredible,” he whispered, truly awed in a way none of the rest of the Ark had been able to provoke. This place made the Kepler program look archaic. Hubble was nothing but an infantile experiment, clear proof of just how far modern science had lagged behind whoever had built this place.
 

“You’ve not seen even a fraction of the capabilities the observatory possesses,” Anput said, giving him a warm smile.

Ra gestured and a holographic sphere appeared in the center of the room; she stretched out delicate fingers, touching various points on the sphere’s surface. The room answered, zooming their perspective until they were much closer to the sun.