TWENTY-TWO
The term “vampire king” isn’t strictly accurate,
in that it doesn’t refer to a leader of the Vampire Nation, as
we’ve come to call them. Vampires, from what we’ve seen, are
obsessively territorial and isolationist, much like any other apex
predator, with limited social interaction. If a human were to
exhibit these same tendencies, we’d call them sociopathic. But like
other apex predators, they respect strength, and the “vampire king”
is roughly the equivalent of a bull elephant—the biggest, most
powerful member of its species. Of the few hundred vampires
believed to exist worldwide, there are perhaps two or three vampire
kings—maybe as few as two or three in the entire species’ history.
These king vampires do not seem to exercise any authority over the
rest of the Vampire Nation other than the rights allowed by brute
force. Any vampire who does not yield to a king vampire will
probably find its unnatural existence put to a quick end.
—Notes of Dr. William Kavanaugh, Sanction V
Research Group
Cade stood outside as the meeting broke up,
taking a moment to absorb the noise and scent of the people as they
left. They talked about their jobs, traffic, the unbelievably
crappy streak the Lakers were on. They lit cigarettes, jangled
their keys in their hands, or walked away without looking at anyone
else. More than anything else, this is what he needed here.
“You are such a masochist, Nathaniel.”
The voice came from behind him. She wrinkled her
nose at him and giggled. As always, when he saw her, Cade thought
of a song popular during World War II, about a girl who wouldn’t
sit with anyone else under the apple tree.
Then she smiled a little wider, showing her fangs,
and ruined it, like she did every time.
“Hello, Tania,” he said. “What are you doing
here?”
She looked at the crowd as it broke up, and her
eyes danced again. “I knew I’d find you at a place like this.
Really, Cade, you’re such a martyr. ”
“What do you want?”
“Oh, don’t be like that. Can’t a girl say hello to
an old friend?”
Several men stared at Tania as they moved down the
sidewalk. She sized them up in return, like a lion watching
gazelles.
“Are we still friends?”
“We must be. I’m here to give you a little advice,”
she said. “Konrad has placed a contract on your life. He’s put out
inquiries. He wants you dead. Truly dead. Head or heart. Then
ashes.”
Cade noticed that not one person passing by turned
their heads, even though Tania made no attempt to be quiet. That
was, perhaps, the only quality he enjoyed about L.A. No matter what
you said, people simply assumed you were talking about a
movie.
“Interesting,” Cade said.
Tania waited. Cade didn’t speak.
“Is that it? Aren’t you going to do
something?”
“What would you have me do?”
“Kill him.”
“I can’t. I’ve been given orders. And it’s not a
crime to try to kill me. I’m not even alive.”
“Idiot,” she said. “I don’t know why I
bother.”
She turned to go, but Cade grabbed her arm. He put
just enough pressure in his grip to let her know he was
serious.
“Why do you bother, Tania? You were in New York.
Why would you come all this way?”
She stepped closer to him, getting into his
personal space. Even in heels, she had to look up at him.
“Believe it or not,” she said, “I still care about
you.”
“Interesting.”
“What’s that?”
“I would have thought a murderer would be a better
liar.”
She scowled and stepped back. “Funny. That was
almost funny.”
“I’ve spent time with a comedian lately.”
She made a face. “Another one of them?” Nodding at
the people going by. “Why do you do it? I will never understand why
you spend so much time socializing with the stock.”
The stock. As in livestock. His kind’s term for
humans. The first time he heard it, he realized how perfectly it
summed up their contempt for people: an undifferentiated mass of
food. It didn’t surprise him at all that Tania used the name every
chance she got.
“Maybe I’m trying to make up for old mistakes,” he
said.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, and almost sounded like a
teenager again. “Do not try to put this on me, Cade. I have
told you, over and over. You tried to save me from eternal youth
and godlike power. I’m happy you didn’t.”
Cade’s self-control broke, and the anguish shone on
his face.
“Don’t do that,” she said. “You look like I just
killed a puppy.”
“This isn’t life, Tania.”
“Talk to me in another hundred years. If you live
that long. You know what happens if you don’t feed on the
stock?”
Cade made a face. “You’re going to tell me the
others like us view me as a traitor. I’ve heard it before. And
everyone who made that threat is—”
She cut him off, rolling her eyes. “Yes, yes, I
know how frightfully tough you are, dear. That’s not what I was
asking. Do you know what will happen to you if you don’t
drink?”
Cade just looked at her.
“It’s like putting kerosene in an engine meant to
run only on premium unleaded,” she said. “Already, you’re less than
you should be. Keep denying your body what it needs, and it will
just get worse. You’ll be less resilient, less able to process
damage, less efficient. You’ll get tired. You’ll get
old.”
“I’m not afraid of dying.”
“Who said anything about dying? The change will
keep you alive—but your body will wear down. Eventually, you’ll be
decrepit. Feeble. An old man, forever. No one will even bother to
put you out of your misery.”
“You’re right,” he said.
That stopped her cold. “I am?”
Cade smiled. “I’m older than you. I may not get
invited to the family gatherings, but I’ve seen what happens to
those of us who don’t feed on humans.”
Cade had seen a vampire at the end of the
cycle—starved of human blood, left to feed on whatever vermin he
could find, as a punishment.
It wasn’t pretty, even for their kind.
He remembered the starving vampire’s parchment
skin, crisscrossed with deep lines. His joints frozen with disuse.
Tumors swelling his abdomen. And his eyes, screaming with pain,
begging for release.
It was an object lesson. One he had chosen to
ignore.
Tania asked him, “And your purity is worth that
much to you?”
He did something he didn’t do very often. He
laughed. At her.
“I’m not pure,” he said. “And yes. It is.”
“Idiot,” she said again. There was no teasing in
her voice this time.
Cade’s phone buzzed in his jacket. ZACHARY BARROWS,
the display read.
“I have to go,” he told her.
“Don’t let me keep you,” she said, her voice light
and mocking. “I was headed over to the Christian women’s college
for a bite to eat anyway.”
He was already walking away, his back to her. She’d
find him again. She always did.
Cade had other priorities right now.