Mortal Lock (15 page)

Something about the surrounding silence alerted him. When he opened his eyes, the nondescript man had vanished.

“Titanium? You know what that would cost?” the squat, muscular man asked. His shaven head displayed a tattoo of a lightning bolt, lancing through the number 88.

“It wouldn’t weigh much, though?” the nondescript man asked him.

“Weight, that’s a relative term. Of course it wouldn’t weigh much, compared to steel. For the size of what you want, it would still take superhuman strength for a single person to even move it an inch, much less transport it. And the mechanism you want, well, it’s simple enough, that’s right. No more complicated than the way we used to catch pigeons when I was a kid. Just a box held up with a stick, a string attached to the stick. The pigeon goes to get the food and …”

“Is he—?”

“No,” the nondescript man told the crone. He rolled the skinny man’s body off his shoulder and placed him on the ground, face up. “He’s alive. Just weak, that’s all. I need to leave him here while I—”

“They are not here yet. You have come before the time we agreed, and—”

“I know. I have five more to bring. And one at a time is the best I can do.”

The man turned away, and started back down the subway tunnel.

In less than an hour, six men were laid out on the floor of the tunnel.

“Come to me!” the crone whispered.

The nondescript man watched as the creatures materialized out of the darkness. He focused on their faces, memorizing the features of the one female and three males, moving his eyes from one to another.

“There they are,” he said, gesturing toward the six bodies lying on the tunnel floor. All were in various stages of consciousness, but none was capable of movement.

Fangs bared, one of the vampires launched himself at the nondescript man, hands extended to claw. The man’s hand flashed and the vampire staggered backward, a wooden stake embedded in his chest. The other vampires watched without emotion as he briefly struggled before he crumpled into a small pile of ash.

“Not me,” the nondescript man said, pointing. “Them.”

One of the men on the floor managed to scream weakly before he was taken.

The nondescript man watched, motionless. When it was over, he said, “I will bring you more in three days. On the same terms, all right?”

“Yes,” the crone replied. “If you wish.”

“But it has to be these same ones,” the man said, pointing at the sated vampires. “Especially her.”

The female vampire smiled. She was young and curvy. “My name is Darnetra,” she said, twitching her hips. “Do you like me?”

“Yes,” the nondescript man said.

“Don’t say another goddamn word to me about your ‘monsters,’ ” the powerfully built, jowly man in a rumpled plaid sports coat glared at the much younger man in a blue uniform.

“But, Sarge, I’m telling you—”

“Listen, kid. I don’t have time for your stupid little wannabe informants, what do you call them, again? Goths?”

“That’s right. And the word is—”

“Son,” the older man shook his head sadly. “Even if there
were
vampires suddenly popping up in Manhattan, it wouldn’t be close to our biggest problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I got my informants, too. Real ones, not crazed kids with white paint on their faces. And you know what mine tell me?”

“What?”

“That the most dangerous guy on the face of this earth is back in town.”

“Who is—?”

“You know what they say about this guy? When he shows up, nobody knows why, but somebody’s gonna die. A whole lot of some-bodies. That’s his business: making bodies. He hasn’t been ID’d in New York for a long time now, but we still got wants and warrants out on him for the one job we can connect him to, for sure.”

“Which is?”

“His parents,” the older man said.

“You have come seven times now,” the crone said. “Each time, you pay the price. Will you tell me why?”

“I want Darnetra.”

“What does that mean … ‘want’? You want her as a man wants a woman?”

“Yes.”

“You understand humans cannot mate with—”

“I want her. Only her. Tell her, the next time I come, I will bring her exactly what she wants.”

“You know this? What she wants?”

“Yes. Darnetra wants women. Plump women, but not fat ones. I will bring her some. No fewer than four. And then I will have her.”

“You are not a man,” the crone said.

“I’m a little scared,” Dawn said.

“Fear is not a god,” the nondescript man said. “It is an enemy.”

“Have you ever …? Oh! I know. When they were—”

“You are no longer a little child,” the man told her. “Your time will come soon. Then we will fight, together.”

“Truly?”

“I promise.”

“I couldn’t bring them all the way here,” the nondescript man told Darnetra. “They weighed too much. You said plump, right?”

“Yesss.…” the vampire said, licking her lips.

“They’re a thousand yards or so back the way I came. Will you come with me?”

“I saw what you did to Tortrine,” she said. “How do I know you won’t—”

“If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anytime I wanted to,” the man said, looking toward the crone. The old woman nodded her agreement.

“What do you want?” Darnetra asked.

“I want you,” the man said. “I want you as I have never wanted any woman.”

Darnetra locked eyes with the man before her. Finally, she reached out her hand. The man took it, exchanging a final, bargain-sealing look with the crone.

They walked down the subway tunnel together, around a series of turns. “There they are,” the man said.

“Ummm!” Darnetra replied, dropping the man’s hand and running toward them.

She was deep into the first one’s jugular when the titanium cage dropped over her.