I knocked on the door to Bassarab's room just as Mooncloud and Garou rounded the corner and started down the hallway.
Wren opened it after a moment with an expression of mild surprise. "Too late," he yawned, "he's already asleep."
"Good." I pushed Wren back into the room and crossed the threshold.
"I didn't invite you in," he said, half-puzzled, half-annoyed. His eyes widened when he saw the gun in my hand. "Hey, there's no need for that."
"I'm afraid there is," I said, hearing the others pause at the open doorway. "Lupé, shut the door."
I heard them enter behind me and, as the door clicked shut, I pulled the trigger.
"Ow—shit!" he said as the dart caught him in the shoulder. Garou grabbed my arm as Wren pulled the projectile out of his flesh and looked up at me, his face a mask of disbelief.
"Too late." I pulled my arm free and tucked the gun back into my coat pocket. "The tranquilizer is already in your bloodstream. It's extremely fast-acting, I'm told."
It would seem I was told correctly: he took a couple of uncertain steps toward me and then seemed to misplace his equilibrium entirely. He staggered, sank to his knees, and then keeled over onto his left side.
"You probably won't lose consciousness entirely," I said, picking him up and depositing him on the bed, "but you won't be able to move about under your own power for the better part of the next hour or so."
"Are you mad?" Mooncloud wanted to know.
"What is the problem, Doctor? It wasn't very long ago that you wanted my allegiance in just such a betrayal. Now I'm doing your work for you."
"Wha—yoo—wan?" Wren slurred, head lolling on the pillow.
"Your master and I have a little business to conduct," I answered. "He may prove somewhat reluctant and I would prefer to not have to address your reluctance, as well. You should spend the next hour contemplating a career move. I think you're about to become unemployed."
The packing case that served as Bassarab's daybed was under a blanket and pushed up against the inside wall, blocking the closet. I yanked the blanket aside and opened the valise.
"I think it's time you filled us in on the rest of your plan," Mooncloud said, a touch of fear tingeing her voice.
I shook out the pocketed vest containing the plastique charges. "As I said before, Doctor, the less you know the safer we all will be. It's time to choose: you can follow my orders, or return to your room now."
"What if I change my mind halfway through?"
"I can command your obedience," I said, giving her a mental push. "Remember?"
Her mouth tightened. "Tell me what to do."
"Pull the shades."
She did, the room darkened, and Garou switched on a lamp in the corner.
"Help me get this open." They both came over and lifted the lid while I knelt by the midpoint of the camouflaged coffin.
Just like some Hollywood cliché, Bassarab lay in repose, flat on his back, with his arms folded across his chest so that his fingertips were pointed toward opposite shoulders. His eyes were closed, his face a study in hardened wax.
"Now what?" Lupé wanted to know.
"Help me sit him up."
"What?" they both chorused in shocked whispers.
"Help me sit him up!" I tugged on his arms. At the last minute they joined in and we managed to bend the old vampire at the waist until we bore a passing resemblance to the historical tableaux on Mount Suribachi. "Now we have to dress for success." I unfolded an arm and slid it through the appropriate opening in the vest.
"Pretty flexible for a sleeping vampire," Garou grunted. "They're usually pretty rigid when we pop them during the day." She had to change her grip as I brought the vest around and behind. "Of course, once the stake goes in, they're total stiffs."
Mooncloud didn't smile at the pun. "We've never dealt with anyone half as old. And since we stake them as soon as we open the coffin, we really don't know how much handling it would take to actually wake one."
"Or how much talking," Bassarab said, just as I got his other arm though and pulled the vest closed across his chest. The vampire's eye were open now, and I slapped the Velcro closures shut. "What are you doing, Christopher?"
Mooncloud and Garou, staggered back, clutching their heads; I suffered no personal discomfort. I held the remote detonator up before his eyes and sent him a mental picture of just what he was wearing and what I would do if he didn't cooperate. Then, for the benefit of Mooncloud and Garou, I explained it again, out loud.
His lip curled. "You can't be serious."
"On the contrary," I replied, "I've never been more serious in my life."
"And you'd detonate these explosives, knowing that you will be killed, as well?"
"If you'll recall, Vladamir, the original plan was for me to wear the vest. I've already died once and I figure the odds are against my seeing the sun set this evening. My only concern is that there are two people I'd like to take with me when I go."
"You blame me for your family's deaths," he said. "This is your revenge."
"I want Bey," I said. "He's the one who dug them up. He's the one using them now. You're my ticket to his destruction. I'd rather have Bey, but I'll settle for you if you don't cooperate."
He considered my words and then glanced at Mooncloud and Garou. "Perhaps you are willing to sacrifice yourself. But am I to believe that you would blow up your friends, too?"
I smiled. "Have you forgotten so quickly? I have no 'friends.' Only allies. You taught me that." I turned to Mooncloud and Garou. "What do you say, ladies? Would I blow you up, too?"
Garou's face was coarse with impending change: she nodded slowly. Mooncloud's features were ashen. "I do believe you would," she murmured.
"So, it's settled," I said, pushing him back down into the long packing crate. "Cooperate and this might all work out so that we are both rid of Kadeth Bey. Mess with me, and we'll all go find out what God really looks like."
He made no reply and I slammed the lid shut.
Garou and I wrestled the packing crate down the hall and out the side entrance while Mooncloud drove the Bronco around to meet us. Even after dropping the tailgate and the rear seats, we had to shift the box in diagonally, letting a good foot and a half hang off the rear end. I crawled in with it to stabilize the load while Garou rode up front with Mooncloud. No one spoke during the short drive. Mooncloud kept glancing in the rearview mirror at the detonator strapped to my wrist. Garou sat in stony silence, glaring out the window as if some sort of meaning might be found in the passing scenery.
We drove to Atkinson and then followed the rutted path across the field. "Around to the back," I said as we approached the old hospital building. "Stop here."
You couldn't miss it in the light of day: the bricks had been replaced in the southeast window, but now they were a jumbled stack instead of the uniform wall of the day before. Anyone coming up from the basement after sunrise would notice in an instant. Perhaps they noticed last night.
Perhaps they noticed Suki. . . .
While Garou and I wrestled the packing crate out, Mooncloud adjusted her transceiver headset and turned it on. "Now what?" she asked, as we set Bassarab's transport on the ground, next to the building. "Do we knock?"
"Yeah," I said, picking up a melon-sized chunk of concrete. I hurled it through the old casement and the brick façade exploded inward. "Knock-knock."
The three of us lifted the crate over the tumbled sill and shoved it toward the shadows inside.
"Now what?" Mooncloud repeated, dusting off her hands.
"It's very simple, Doctor," I said, pulling the Dartmaster out of my pocket. I shot Garou in the thigh. "You are going to assist Lupé over to the Bronco while she can still walk, get in, and drive to the far side of the field where you will wait for further instructions."
"You bastard!" Garou cried, yanking the dart out of her leg. "Why?"
"It's a cleaner equation if you're not part of the math. Better move toward the Bronco: I calculated a more potent dose to compensate for your lycanthropy."
She started to stagger and Mooncloud moved in to provide support. "Let me put her in the Bronco and then come with you."
"There's no need for either of you to go where I'm going," I said with a half smile. I turned and pulled myself up and through the ragged opening. Then I turned back and flashed the remote, strapped just below my left hand. "Remember, the far side of the field, and don't come any closer until this deal is done." I switched on my own headset. "Adios."
Garou was definitely getting wobbly. As Mooncloud attempted to shepherd her toward the vehicle, I broke open the Dartmaster and removed the CO2 cartridge. I didn't know how close the test firings coupled with the two shots I'd used on Wren and Garou had come to exhausting the charge, but I wasn't going downstairs without a fresh load of propellant. I changed cartridges and tossed the extra dart I had readied for Garou just in case the first dosage had been insufficient. I reached into my other pocket and loaded one of the special darts I had prepared for Kadeth Bey.
And then I kicked open the lid to Bassarab's box.
"You are a dead man," he hissed.
"You have a knack for stating the obvious." I repocketed the dart gun and gestured with the detonator. "Get up."
He moved sluggishly, except where the wedge of sunlight through the broken wall threatened to touch him. I slipped the detonator off my wrist and used the rubber bands to refasten it to the Sabrelight while he reached into the crate. He shook out the black duster that served him as a nineteenth century substitute for an eighteenth-century cape.
As he opened the lining in the back of the garment, I wondered how he would upgrade his wardrobe for the next century. Nehru jacket? Probably not as handy for hang-gliding nor for concealing weapons like the Mossberg 9200 shotgun he was sliding into the opening that would drape between his shoulder blades.
"This is madness!" he protested as he donned the coat and adjusted the shoulders against the awkward weight down the middle of his back. "How do you expect to pull this off?"
I repressed the urge to say, "That's for me to know and you to find out." Instead I countered with a question of my own: "How come you didn't travel the dreampath the day your house burned down?"
"What?"
"You were already burned by the fire. Why did you subject yourself to further damage from the sun when you could have transported yourself by traveling this so-called dreampath?"
He scowled and studied the wedge of sunlight spilling through the shattered wall, a reminder that all of his escape routes were cut off. "It is not so easy. I was disoriented from the smoke, the heat. And the sun was up: I have never traveled a dreampath during the day. I'm not sure that it can be done.
"To travel the dreampaths, you must relax, clear your mind. You must focus your mind on a specific destination or you may become lost in between."
"And where's that?"
He shrugged, moving closer to the inner door that opened on the central hallway. "Limbo. Between dimensions."
"Like being banished?" I was remembering Luath and the general.
"Very like. Perhaps worse."
"But the first time I did it, I ended up in your room, and I wasn't focusing on a destination at all."
"That was my doing. I sensed your movement within the dreamplane. I intercepted you to keep you from becoming lost in between."
"So, what happens the next time I dream? What if you're not around to reel me back in?"
"This is not to become a problem."
"Yeah? And why not?"
"Because," he said, "very soon we shall both be dead."
"Oh, yeah," I said, "I forgot."
He eased the door open and peered into the darkness of the corridor. "However," he said after a long moment, "if you and I were to both survive this—"
"We're speaking hypothetically here, of course. . . ."
"Of course."
"Thought so."
"If we were to survive, I would probably find the time to coach you through a couple of controlled dreamwalks—"
"I can't believe you two are bickering about this," Mooncloud's voice crackled in my earpiece, "while Bey and Bachman are probably waiting right around the corner."
"I was wondering when you were going to join us, Doctor. How's Lupé?"
"Still conscious, but unable to do anything beyond cursing your name. If they don't kill you, there's a very good chance that she will, once the tranquilizer wears off."
"Don't worry about us, Doctor: Bachman is already expecting us, and we're making enough noise to let them know we're not trying to sneak up on them."
"Perhaps we should not keep them waiting," Bassarab said, reaching the junction of the hallway and the stairwell.
"Okay, Doc, close your mike and listen closely: I can't afford any distractions once the negotiations begin. If everything blows up in our faces, I want you to get over to Mount Horeb Hospital as fast as you can. There's someone you'll need to see in Fifth-floor-Psych, room 512. You got that?"
"Room 512, Mount Horeb Hospital, Fifth-floor-Psych. Who and why?"
"I'll explain later. Just remember and get there as fast as you can after this is over. Bye, Doc." I looked over at my hostage. "Ready?"
He readjusted his duster, nodded, and started down the stairs. I followed a few steps behind.
They were waiting for us in the furnace room, Bey and Bachman, insolently at ease and seated upon a jumble of crates like moldering royalty in an Egyptian tomb. Only a bare dozen candles were lit, shifting the clumps of darkness around us like stray cattle from a shadowy herd of the damned.
Bey was a mess. His skin was black and shriveled from his torching at the Tremont, here and there, portions of ruined flesh had flaked away to reveal smooth, albeit grey, skin beneath. Bey the Deathless was on the mend.
Bachman, however, wasn't. And her anticipation of my promised blood had her even edgier and jumpier than I had seen her last.
>>So, dRAcUl<< Bey projected, the skin at the corners of his mouth cracking and splitting as his mouth twitched, >>yOu HAvE cOMe tO tHrOW yOUrSeLf UpoN oUr mERcY<<
"Your mercy, Bey?" Bassarab spat a gob of scarlet on the floor, at his feet. "Not bloody likely!"
I cleared my throat. "Perhaps you should explain our working arrangement."
Bassarab parted his greatcoat to reveal the vest. "This yearling has managed to entrap me with this garment containing a large concentration of high explosives. If he pushes a button, the plastique charges in this vest will detonate." He smiled and his teeth seemed sharper than I had ever seen them before. "The result for you, Bey, will be no simple decapitation: I doubt that all the king's horses and all the king's men would ever be able to put Bey the Jackal together again."
It was hard to tell from the charred ruin of the sorcerer's face if he was discomfited by this revelation, but his ectomorphic form shifted on the crates like an alert cobra's. >>WhY iS He sO aNXiOuS To dIe? AnD, FOr tHAt maTTEr, hOw Is iT tHAt yOu ARe sO cALM aNd cOoPErAtIVe?<<
The old vampire shrugged. "As for Csejthe, he is nearly mad with Christian guilt over his own damnation. Your violation of his family has pushed him over the edge. He is more than ready to die if it will destroy you and return his wife and daughter to their eternal rest. As for me? What choice do I have? He tells me that, if I cooperate in the bargaining here, I may live past another sunset."
>>BaRgAInINg?<< Bey's eyes narrowed and piece of crusted ear dropped off to reveal a smooth, grey lobe. >>I wAs TOlD yOU WErE sURrEnDErINg yoURsElF tO rETuRn wITh Us TO nEW YoRk.<<
Bassarab's smile became a smirk. "Uncoerced compliance? The centuries have petrified your brain if you believe that I would give myself up without a fight. No, the bargain I refer to is between my captor and your keeper," he said, nodding to Bachman.
Bey looked at Bachman. >>WhaT iS He bABbLiNG aBOuT?<<
But Elizabeth was staring at me. More specifically, she was staring at the detonator in my hand. "Your promise," she whispered. "What about your blood?"
"I expect it will be literally vaporized along with the rest of us. Let me spell it out for all of you," I announced, switching on the Sabrelight and pointing it at the ceiling. "I am not a happy guy. And, unless I get a whole lot happier in the next few minutes, I am going to turn this little basement tête-á-tête into a real open house."
>>YoUng oNe<< Bey crooned, >>aRe yOu rEAlLy sO wILlINg tO dIe?<<
"The way I figure it, asshole," I growled, "is with you finally gone, my family can rest in peace. I'll be very happy to send Dracula to Hell as he's the one who made me what I am. If it wasn't for him, my wife and my little girl would still be alive."
"And what of me?" Bachman's voice was hushed and harsh with fear and need. "What of our bargain—the promise of your blood freely given?"
I flashed the light in her face, blinding her for the moment. "You traitorous bitch! You betray your friends and lure them to their deaths and you have the nerve to speak to me of promises and bargains? You just sit there for now and don't say shit unless I ask you a question!
"Now," I continued, trying to control the trembling in my voice and my hands, "I am even more unhappy than I was when I walked through the door a few moments ago." I still held the remote and flashlight in my left hand. I slid my right hand into my coat pocket and pulled out the Dartmaster. I pointed it at the Egyptian sorcerer. "Where is my family?"
He looked at the pistol. >>WHat Is tHAt? A gUn? WhAT cAn yOU hOpe tO aCcoMpLisH wITh a guN tHaT YoU coUlD nOT Do wIth SWoRd, fLAmeThROwEr, aNd sTAkE?<<
I answered by shooting him in the chest.
He didn't even flinch. He looked down at the dart protruding from his shirt in mild surprise. With deliberate slowness, he pulled it from his flesh. I fumbled the Dartmaster's chamber open and inserted another dart as he examined the spent projectile. "I'm going to ask you again, where is my family?"
>>HOw fAScInAtINg.<< He turned it over and over in his spidery hands. >>It iS bOTh a DaRt AnD a tINy sYRinGe. ThEy UsE thIs fOR tRANqUiLiZINg aNiMALs, dOn'T tHEy?<< He looked up. >>Is THat wHAt yOu'RE tRYiNg tO Do? PuT mE to sLEeP?<<
I shot him in the belly this time. "I said, where is my family? What have you done with them?"
>>YoU mUSt rEaLIze tHaT tRaNQuIliZeRS, dRUgS, Or eVEn pOIsOns wILl hAve nO moRe efFeCT thAn sTAKinG, bEheAdINg, oR bUrnIng.<< He pulled out the second dart and sniffed the needled tip. >>YoU'vE alReaDy tRIed YoUr sO-caLlEd hOly wATer aNd yOu kNOw hOW eFfEcTiVe tHAt tUrNEd oUt To bE.<<
I had fumbled through another reload and shot him again. This time I almost missed, barely managing to tag him in the arm. "I'm running out of patience, Bey! I want to see my family! I want to see you exorcise them with my own eyes!" I broke open the chamber and fumbled for another dart.
>>ThEy aRe aWAy,<< Bey said with enhanced nonchalance. >>ShaLl I gO GEt tHEm aNd bRInG thEm To yOu?<<
"I'm sure," I said, "that you can do that from right here, without moving a muscle." I glanced over at Bachman. "Where's Suki?"
"I'm here," came a hoarse cry from the back of the room.
"You surprised me," Bachman said, ignoring my directive to only answer direct questions. "I expected you to come to her rescue while we were gone, last night. Your humanity is slipping, indeed."
"Are you all right?" I called.
"She crawled under a workbench and hasn't spoken or moved in hours." Bachman tried to make her ruined mouth smile. "Don't worry: I kept your family away from her."
A hot flare of anger erupted behind my eyes and I brought the Dartmaster around and shot Bey again. "I'm waiting!" I screamed at him. "Get them back here now!"
He smiled and pulled the dart loose. >>ThEy aRe tOo fAR aWaY. EvEN iF tHey cOUld ReSpoNd tO my cAlL, It mIgHt bE aN hOur bEfoRe thEy wOUld gEt hErE.<<
I fumbled another dart into the chamber. "Vlad, go over there and get Suki out from under that workbench." I swung the Sabrelight's beam back into Bachman's face. "You—go help him."
>>WhY dO yOu kEEp sHoOtINg yOUr sIlLy lItTle DaRTs At mE?<< Bey asked mildly as the vampires moved to the back of the room. >>YoU mUSt rEaLiZe tHAt yOu cAN't kILl a MaN wHo Is aLreADy dEaD, aNd tHEsE lITtLe sTInGs dO nOt eVEn qUAlIfY aS a mINoR aNnoYaNCe.<<
"Then grin and bear it, you son-of-a-bitch. It makes me happy, and as long as I'm happy, I'm not pressing the button." I swung the beam so that I could see the workbench. An arm came out from beneath the bench and Bassarab stepped back so that Bachman would have to take the extended hand.
A crate creaked as Bey shifted his weight, and I turned and shot him in the face. "Don't move, goddammit!" I fumbled for another dart as I swung the light back to the workbench. Bachman was bent down, pulling, and Suki's face appeared in the circle of light. Her shoulders emerged. Then her other arm. She was holding something in her other hand: a Glock 19 auto pistol. The gun barrel came up with inhuman speed and came to rest just above the bridge of Elizabeth Bachman's nose. The impact of the hollow-point bullet took the top of her head off, scooping out the brainpan, and hurled her body halfway across the room where it impacted with the remains on an old boiler tank.
Her body started decomposing even before it finished slumping to the floor.
Distracted, I didn't see the monstrous forms of my wife and daughter until they were well out of the shadows and hurtling across the room. They descended on me, shrieking like the fire alarms of Hell. The Glock fired a quick succession of shots at the thing that looked like Kirsten and the impact of the bullets jerked it backwards as if it were executing a quick, spastic moonwalk. The creature wearing my wife's body was upon me before Bassarab could bring the shotgun out and around. I staggered, off balance, and the remote went flying out of my hand, the Sabrelight spinning its light-show trajectory like some kind of deranged UFO.
>>YoUr fAMiLy iS hERe, CsEJtHe,<< Bey taunted. >>ArE yOu nOt hAPpY tO sEe tHEm?<<
I cursed him then. Called him every vile name and used every epithet I'd ever heard or imagined as I slapped away the hands that had once caressed me and used my fists upon the face that had once meant more than life, itself, to me. Tears came, hot and blinding, as I split the lips that had kissed mine a lifetime ago.
Then a hand grabbed my wrist from behind. I shook it loose, but another hand grasped my shoulder and an arm fell across my throat. A multiplicity of hands fell on me, then, clutching and grasping. A smell like sour earth and long-dead rot washed over me, and my gag reflex took over in a shuddering succession of dry heaves. The Dartmaster was pulled from my grasp, and when my eyes could focus again, I could see others in the room.
Others like Jenny and Kirsten. Only not so well preserved or presentable. Bey had looted the local cemeteries for reinforcements, and now a shambling phalanx of corpses formed a ring about the necromancer. Dozens of hands and arms, inhumanly strong despite their putrescent flesh and denuded bone, held Bassarab and myself immobile as Bey retrieved the remote detonator.
He turned and walked over to Suki, bent down, and pulled the now-empty Glock from her hand. >>AnD wHeRE dID yOU fINd tHIs, My pReTTy?<< He turned the weapon over in his hand and then tossed it across the room. One of the corpses swayed "to" when he should have gone "fro" and the handgun struck him in the face. Half of his jawbone, including his chin, clattered to the floor along with the Glock.
>>BAcHmAn tOLd mE YoU wErE tOO wEaK to cAUSe AnY tRoUBlE,<< Bey continued, reaching down and grasping the Asian girl by the throat. >>I gUEsS tHaT'S tHe lASt mIsTAkE sHe'Ll eVer mAkE.<< He chuckled and lifted Suki up, off the floor by her neck.
She made a choking sound and grasped at Bey as he lifted her into the air, but his reach was longer than hers.
"Now you're the one making a mistake," I said.
>>ReALlY?<< Bey smirked. >>HEr GuN iS eMPty aNd hEr bACk Is StiLL bRoKEn. I aM gOiNg To kILl hEr nOW. I'm gOInG tO LeT yOu wATcH. WaTCh AnD thiNk aBOuT whAt I'M gOIng tO dO tO eACh oF yOu wHEn iT's yOUr tURn.<<
"I still say you're making a mistake," I said. And then Suki's right foot flashed up between Kadeth Bey's legs. He gave a screeching sort of grunt and bent forward, releasing his captive. It was too late: as she dropped, Suki's left foot came up and nailed his groin a second time, completing a double scissors-kick.
As he rolled away, still curled around his unexpected agony, several more corpses shuffled forward. "Now would be a good time, I think," Suki said in a surprisingly deep voice.
I nodded and bowed my head, still straining against the clammy hands that held me in death's cold embrace. "O," I said, "Amon Ra, oh!" My voice seemed suddenly louder, echoing through the basement as if whispered in an empty sepulcher.
"God of Gods," I intoned, my voice taking on strength and timbre, booming down the access tunnel across the room.
"Death is but the doorway to new life. . . ." The hair on the back of my own neck was starting to rise as I spoke the words and felt the power starting to gather.
Bey recognized the text from the Scroll of Thoth: >>BlASpHeMy!<<
"We live today, we shall live again. . . ."
>>SiLeNCe!<<
" . . . in many forms shall we return. . . ."
He uncurled himself and turned toward me.
"Oh, Mighty One. . . ."
He moved stiffly, uncomfortably. But it was more than the discomfort of a kick to the groin that slowed him now. Decapitated, impaled, flame-broiled, sliced and diced, Kadeth Bey had been discomforted, but hadn't actually experienced true pain for thousands of years.
Until now.
And as I spoke the Words and the potion spread through his body, the pain began to spread, as well. >>KiLl yOu ALl!<< he thought venomously. >>DoN't uNdERstAnD! CaN'T huRt Me! cAn'T kIll mE!<< He was growing disoriented as nerve endings came to life, sending long-forgotten sensations to his ancient brain.
As his attention faltered his necrotic army relaxed their grip and we shrugged ourselves free.
"Oh, I understand all right," I said, having completed the incantation. "And thank you for explaining it so succinctly the last time we met." I switched off my light and the few sputtering candles that remained did little to hold back the darkness.
"Do you see?" Bassarab asked. "It has begun."
It took me a moment longer to clear my vision: afterimages bruised my retinas in yellows and purples and blues. But beyond the fading aurora borealis a different candle flame flickered, caught hold and grew in intensity, forming an orange nimbus about a swelling, yellow core.
>>WhAT's HaPPEnIng? WhAT HaVE yOu dOnE?<<
"The only thing I could do, under the circumstances," I answered. "As you have already said, we cannot kill something that is already dead. So, I have utilized forces antithetical to yours to perform a resurrection. Thanks to the Scroll of Thoth and hypodermic darts filled with tanna leaf extract, Kadeth Bey: this is your life!"
>>WhAT? WhY?<<
"Oscar Wilde said it best, I think," Bassarab growled, stepping forward. He slide-cocked the Mossberg as the orange began to shed a red aura, the orange turning yellow, the yellow core turning white. " 'And the wild regrets and the bloody sweats / None knew so well as I. . . .' " He raised the shotgun to his shoulder. " ' . . . For he who lives more lives than one / More deaths than one must die.' "
>>I dONoT UnDErStANd!<<
"You are no longer the walking dead," I said. "Now you are alive. And, now that you are alive—you can finally be killed."
He reached toward me and Bassarab swung the shotgun around. "Down!" he commanded.
I ducked as a hand clutched at my shirt from behind. The Mossberg roared, peppering me with stray pellets, and the grip on my shirt disappeared along with a sizable swatch of fabric. I hit the ground and rolled, turning over to look behind me. Jennifer— I closed my eyes and thought of death.
"Release her, Bey!" Bassarab's voice seemed to come from far away. "It was blasphemy before, but every second of false life now is an abomination! Let her go!"
>>Or wHaT? YOu'Ll kIll mE?<<
"That won't be necessary," I heard myself say.
"It won't?" Bassarab's voice was incredulous.
I tried rising to my hands and knees. "As part of the embalming process, he had his heart removed and preserved in a canopic jar. Isn't that right, Bey?"
He hissed but made no reply.
I climbed shakily to my feet, careful not to look back at the trembling, twitching, headless thing that once had been my wife. "As the tanna leaf extract spreads through your system, it's turning everything back on and starting everything back up. You're becoming human, again, Bey. Your body will once more be subject to the laws that govern flesh and blood. I think you'll find it's important to have your heart in the right place."
He clutched his chest and the detonator tumbled from his trembling fingers. He sank to his knees, his mouth forming a gigantic "O" of pain.
As I reached down and retrieved the remote, Bassarab stepped forward and placed the shotgun muzzle to Bey's head.
"That isn't necessary," I said, bringing the Sabrelight to bear on them both. "He can't survive with a hole in the middle of his chest."
"I want to make sure."
"So do I. But think of the irony of Kadeth Bey being the agent of his own death."
"Fuck irony," Bassarab said. He pulled the trigger.
The roar of the Mossberg gave way to a collective sigh and whisper as the ring of cadavers collapsed around us like unstrung marionettes. That sign, alone, was more reassuring than the incomplete corpse of the necromancer himself.
Still, I had to walk over and kick at the more substantial portions of his remains. I could hardly see, and it was awhile before I realized that it was because I was weeping again. But I didn't stop right away: I had to make sure.
No one else moved. No one else spoke until Mooncloud's voice crackled in my headset: "Is it over?"
"Almost," I said, moving the beam of my flashlight until it picked up Jenny's foot protruding from a mound of human debris. The foot no longer twitched or shook.
I opened the case of the remote control. "Dennis, get out of here."
Suki took one step forward, her face congealing with masculine features. "That's not necessary," she said with Smirl's voice as I pulled out the telescoping antenna. "Bey's dead."
"So am I," I whispered, the basement amplifying my words like a microphone. "So are the wampyr. So you see," I said, looking over at Bassarab, "I have to make sure."
"There are better ways of making sure." Suki's bosom flattened out and sprouted chest hair. Her hair retracted, became wiry and shot with grey.
I shook my head. "Doctor, Mr. Smirl will be joining you momentarily. As soon as he does, I suggest you provide him with the clothing I stashed in the spare wheel compartment. Then you need to get to the hospital, post haste, and get Suki out of room 512."
"What is Suki doing in the hospital?"
"She has a broken back and internal injuries, Doctor. I slipped her past security and put her on the Psych floor where the overnight staff is stretched thin and a little more isolated than the other floors. I left instructions with the charge nurse to give her whole blood and keep her room dark. I don't know how much that's helped, but by now the night-shift has gone off duty. It's just a matter of time before the day-shift finds discrepancies between their floor records and Admissions." I looked at Smirl, who now only showed vague vestiges of Suki's topography. "Time to go."
"Why don't we all go?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I have to make sure." I pushed him toward the door with my mind.
"A rendezvous with Death?" Mooncloud asked as Smirl headed up the stairs. "At some disputed barricade?"
"You're quoting Seeger, Doctor. I'm thinking of Swinburne."
"Swinburne?"
"Algernon Charles Swinburne." I flipped a switch arming one of the detonator circuits. "He wrote: 'From too much love of living, / From hope and fear set free. . . . ' " I turned off the flashlight. Only two guttering candles remained to light the scene. " ' . . . We thank with brief thanksgiving / Whatever gods there be. . . . ' "
Bassarab stared at the remote, seemingly transfixed; he made no move to escape. " ' . . . That no life lives forever. . . . ' " My hands began to shake and my voice broke. " ' . . . That dead men rise up never. . . . ' "
It was time to make an ending.
" ' . . . That even the weariest river / Winds somewhere safe to sea.' "
I pressed the switch that blew Christopher Csejthe and Vladimir Drakul Bassarab V out of existence.