After Daybreak (20 page)

I look at the Chosen, and they’re just as mystified. So this wasn’t part of their plan, this isn’t their friends showing up. Then, maybe, it’s ours.

When I turn back, I see exactly what it is: a black van. Not exactly the cavalry I would’ve called for, but I don’t have much time to consider it; the van turns sharply and screeches to a dead stop.

The door immediately slides open, and a black-clad Michael steps out. And in his arms is something I’ve only ever seen in pictures, the thing my brother once spoke of using in the war. It was a weapon used against the vampires in the trenches. One of the few ways to kill them, and one of the most stomach-churning.

A flamethrower.

I jump as far away as possible; Victor follows my lead. Just in time. Michael squeezes the trigger and unleashes liquid hell onto the Chosen. I can feel the searing heat so acutely that I check my clothes and hair to make sure nothing has caught fire. I look to see the entire room engulfed in yellow flames, turning things black.

And I hear the screams of the Chosen. It won’t kill them right away, but it will give us time.

“Get inside!” Michael yells, his finger never letting up, the fire growing across the floor, catching anything remotely flammable and igniting it.

I run toward the van; Victor meets me there. The Night Watchmen waiting inside grab our hands and pull us quickly into the vehicle. Michael jumps through the opening last, slamming the door shut. The tires spin, and we’re gone.

Chapter 25

T
he entire ride back I’m taking calming breaths, steadying my hands. I look at Victor: His wounds have worsened, the run from where he was to the van exposing him to direct sunlight, further burning his vampiric flesh. His perfect skin is now nothing but a patchwork of various blackened shades and raised scabs, blood and pus running from them.

“I’ll be okay,” he says to me, his words deep and gravelly, almost unrecognizable, as though even his voice box has been singed.

“Here,” Michael says, handing him a packet of blood, the Agency stamp on it.

“No,” Victor says, turning it away. “I want the people to see me as I am. Let them see how vulnerable even I am to the Chosen.”

The van has been heavily modified. All of the seats, except the front two, have been removed. Most of the windows have been blacked out, and metal stakes line a magnetic strip. There are four Night Watchmen plus the driver.

“How did you guys know we were in danger?” I ask.

One of them looks up. “Ever since we got your report about the Chosen, we knew that the manor could be easily compromised during the day. We’ve had a scout watching it at all times. He saw several vampires breaking in early this morning and came back to the city as soon as possible. We moved out once we received word.”

“Well, we’re extremely grateful,” I say.

“We’ve been practicing the mission for months,” he says, then pauses. “Of course, we always assumed we’d be
attacking
the Valentines, not rescuing them.”

I’m not surprised that an assassination plan was always in the works in case the Valentine family got too greedy.

“You have my eternal thanks,” Victor says, sitting against the thin metal wall, looking not far from death—though I know he’s a long way from knocking on its door.

“We’re allies in this fight now. We aren’t planning on leaving you behind,” Michael says.

In the director’s office the thick shutters are drawn across the windows.

“Are you sure you won’t take any blood?” Clive asks Victor.

“No. I’m healing.”

“And what of you, Dawn? How are your injuries?”

I touch the bandage around my head, where a nasty gash had to be sewn up. I don’t bother feeling for the bruises on my neck; I know they’re there.

“I’ll live.”

Clive leans back, looking so different in this dim light that suits vampires over humans.

“Dawn,” he begins, “I’d like to offer you the small apartment here in the Agency building. It’ll be safer than the one you share with Rachel, and it’ll be easier to contact you if needed.”

“Thank you. I’d love it.”

It won’t have any of my things, and it won’t feel like home, but that doesn’t matter. Clive is right; it’ll be safer, and I have a feeling I’ll be in this room most of the time. I’m not the delegate anymore, but my role within the Agency, my role within the entire city, is more important than ever before. As delegate, I was the ambassador of the people to Valentine. Now I feel like the ambassador of all people to all vampires. I’m in the center of something strange and new, on the cusp of an even newer World Order. The question is whether it will be mine, and the dream born in Crimson Sands, or whether it’ll be Sin’s, a world of walls and monsters worse than any that have ever walked beneath the sun or stars before.

In the tiny apartment I immediately pour Victor a drink but take coffee myself.

The place is simple, sharp lines giving a perfect geometry not often seen in the city. It’s devoid of a personality. No pictures, no art, no little tchotchkes. Instead, it’s clean and sanitary, a combination of dark woods and glass.

Making a quick tour, I find that the place is smaller than the apartment I share with Rachel. It’s utilitarian: a basic kitchen for cooking, a basic bedroom for sleeping, and a bathroom.

“I must look horrible,” Victor says.

“You always look beautiful,” I say.

He laughs and then cringes, one of his many wounds reminding him that laughter is off the table for now.

“You should rest,” I tell him, “so you can heal.”

He glances over at the bed. “Will you join me?”

Nodding, I follow him to the bed. I lie gingerly beside him and he puts his arm around me.

“Last night, I almost forgot that we’re still fighting for our existence,” I say softly.

“But if we don’t have moments like last night,” he says quietly, “we can forget what it is we’re fighting for.”

For each other, a better world, a better future.

Two days later, Victor’s burns have healed and he’s regained most of his strength. During that time, he drank only the blood he needed to satiate himself and allowed the healing to come as naturally as possible for a vampire. I told him he should gorge, drink every drop he can to help his wounds heal quickly, but he wouldn’t hear of it. There are other vampires in the city now, good vampires, who need that blood just as badly.

The Night Watchmen have taken to guarding the day, while Anita leads the new Fanged Watchmen, a group of Victor’s most trusted Lesser vampires, who guard the night. It seems like Denver’s protective angels have quadrupled. Before, one rarely caught a glimpse of a black-clad Night Watchman; now it’s commonplace. People feel safer. Even with so much chaos beyond the walls, everything inside is under control.

Victor and I are at a warehouse, standing in the shadows, observing the drills and training exercises. Night Watchmen, human and vampire alike, have been sharing their knowledge, their weapons, their skills so they can make short work of defeating the Chosen when they arrive.

“How close do you think the Chosen are?” I ask.

Victor shakes his head. “Impossible to know.”

“Maybe Clive should send out some scouts.”

“I would hate for them to run into Sin and his army alone.”

“The waiting is driving me crazy.”

Victor gives me a small smile. “That’s probably part of his plan.”

At the echo of crisp footsteps I turn to see Faith walking briskly toward us. “Clive told me I’d find you here.”

“How are things going with the citizens?” Victor asks when she stops in front of us.

“Good. People are stockpiling food, preparing for a possible siege, but there’s no panic. We’ve set up emergency ration centers, hospitals. I have some Lessers examining the wall for weaknesses. If they exist, our vampires will find them. We’ll stand a better chance if we can keep Sin out.”

Victor grins. “Maybe you are a tactician.”

“That’s common sense. But I’m here for something else.” She takes a shuddering breath. “Richard and I shared another dream today. They destroyed the V-Processing center, detonating it. The entire Agency building is gone. But the city was empty.”

“Empty?” Victor repeats.

“No one was there. The Inner Ring, you remember it, Dawn. It was so full of energy and people, well, Day Walkers. But when I saw it through Richard’s eyes, there was no one.”

“So Sin took all his Day Walkers with him,” I say. “We knew he was on the move.”

She shakes her head.

“I relived it all through Richard. He held my hand and we walked through the empty streets. Everything was so fuzzy, like one of those old films you collect, Victor. And I felt it on my skin. I didn’t know what it was. But now I do. It was ash. Dawn, the Day Walkers, they died.”

“What! How?”

“I don’t know. And neither does Richard. Some of the other Old Family wanted to go looking for them. They said horse tracks and hundreds of footprints led out of the city. But they went in all directions. Why did he leave so many behind? Why did the others die?”

Faith rubs her arms, like the ash is on them.

“I’m scared,” she says. “Sin is up to something and I hate not knowing what it is.”

I share Faith’s concerns. Sin has always managed to be one step ahead of us.

“How’s Ian?”

“Grateful to find that most of the Night Train cars are intact.”

I notice then that the warehouse has grown quiet. The practice maneuvers are over. Fewer Watchmen are standing about, and I realize their vampire counterparts have dispersed for the day, seeking sleep and protection from the sun.

“It’ll be dawn soon,” I say. “We should head back to the Agency.”

“Come with us, Faith,” Victor says. “I don’t want you being alone in the city.”

As we walk to the Agency, I’m acutely aware of the calm, the silence as though everyone—everything—is simply waiting. Waiting for Sin to make his move.

From time to time, I notice an amateur poster slapped onto the side of a building:

K
EEP THEM FED SO THEY CAN PROTECT US.

N
O FEAR FOR OUR FANGED FRIENDS.

D
ONATING BLOOD IS AN INVESTMENT IN OUR FUTURE.

Blood donations have begun in earnest. It may just be trendy now, and soon they may return to what they were. But for the time being, we’ve become a city-size version of Crimson Sands. We watch each other’s backs so we can live our lives without fear.

As we near the steps of the Agency, a black car comes careening to a stop. Richard jumps out. I see a blur and then Faith is in his arms.

Ian is a little slower getting out. I greet him with a quick hug. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too. I have to return for the Night Train, but there won’t be anyone to fight me about it.”

Victor shakes his hand. “We want to hear everything, but the sun’s coming up. We should get inside.”

Sitting in the Agency apartment, we listen as Richard and Ian pretty much tell us the same thing that Faith did.

“The other Old Family vamps headed toward their own territories to begin preparing for Sin,” Richard says.

“I wish they’d stopped by here first,” I say. “I think they would find it useful to see how Denver’s citizens and vampires are working together.”

“Faith told me some of what is going on. Incredible.”

“But can it last?” Ian asks.

“It’s going to have to,” Victor says, “if we have any hope at all for a better world.”

My cell phone rings. It’s Clive. “What’s up?”

“I think Sin is sending us a message. You need to see it.”

Chapter 26

T
he messenger isn’t in a carriage made of white, nor does he come in the dark of the moon. He’s a vampire, lit aflame in the high sun, walking slowly toward the city.

“What the hell is that?” the guard asks.

Along with Clive and Michael, I’m standing on one of the watchtowers. Beside me is the guard who first spotted the slowly moving object, just a black silhouette with fires licking across his body, taking bits of ash into the air, where it’s whisked away. I borrow the guard’s binoculars and look.

It’s a vampire, no doubt. Humans tend to stay in one piece when exposed to the sun, and if lit on fire, well, they die pretty quickly. But this poor soul is trekking across the wasteland, his body fuel for the inescapable flames. He’s stopped trying to get rid of them but instead marches on with an unmatched will to . . . to what? To reach us?

“He’s Old Family,” I say.

“Are you sure?”

“No one else could survive that. Even the strongest of Lessers collapse within an hour or so.”

“It looks as though he’s been walking for several hours,” the guard says.

“I’m sure he has.”

“Go pick him up,” Clive commands the guard.

“But sir—”

“If he has something important to say, I don’t want him dead by the time he reaches these walls. Take Michael with you.”

An hour later, I’m in Clive’s office. The shutters are drawn tight, and Victor stands in the corner, arms crossed. All is quiet until a scream pierces the area outside the room. We don’t have much time to react when the door is kicked open. Michael and Jeff are holding a smoldering vampire, a wool blanket wrapped around him to make his body able to be handled, but his face is black and charred, pieces of him flaking to the ground like a log left in the fire too long. I have to look away for a moment to brace myself before returning his pained stare.

And his screams keep coming.

“Calm down,” Jeff says.

But his shrieks echo around us.

“What do we do, Victor?” Michael asks. “Blood?”

“No,” Victor says. “It won’t help him at this stage. He won’t even be able to get it down his throat.”

“Kill me!” the thing shouts as he’s lain on Clive’s desk.

“Who are you?” Victor asks, moving toward the vampire.

“Ah . . . Ahh . . . Byron Asher. Your Grace.”

Only now do I recognize the charred features of the vampire who stood around the great Council table.

“What happened?” I ask.

He looks at me, and while I expect anger, all I see is remorse.

“You were right, Lady Montgomery. Sin . . . he’s insane. I . . . I tried to join him, but it was too late. He’s . . . he’s . . .” Asher makes a horrendous gurgling sound, inhaling the ash that has fallen from his body, breathing in his own flesh and choking on it.

“How many are there?” Victor asks. “How many Day Walkers? How many Chosen?”

“N . . . no . . . none.”

“What?”

“None. Sin. He . . . he killed them all. Those who survived fled. I don’t know where, but somewhere far away.”

I think about Faith’s dream she shared with Richard. The footprints leading outside the city. They went in all directions, a mass exodus of fear.

“Why did he kill them?”

Asher calms himself, pushing the pain out, and I can tell there isn’t much time left for this once great vampire. I move forward to thank him. “You were very brave, Lord Asher, to come tell us.”

Victor shoots me an approving look before turning back to Asher. “This was in Los Angeles?”

He shakes his head. “I met him in the mountains. He had a few followers with him. But then . . . the Thirst.” Asher’s voice grows steady as though he is determined to give us this vital information. “Sin’s wish has come true. He’s become Infected. He’s . . . oh, Lord Valentine, you’ve never seen a monster like this. His need for vampire blood is inescapable. It’s never ending. He . . . he drank from those around him . . . without any regard to his master plan. He no longer cares. The Thirst . . . it’s . . . it’s taken over his mind, his entire being.”

“My God, Asher, you saw this?”

“Yes, my lord.” Asher grabs Victor by the collar and pulls him close. “He’ll never stop. He’ll never be satisfied. He’ll drink forever and ever until no one is left. He can do it, Victor. He . . . he can’t be stopped.”

“Where is he?”

“He . . . he wants to kill you most of all, Victor. He says that . . . ‘It must end where it began.’ Those were his final words before the Thirst tore his mind apart once again, and he slaughtered three vampires, feeding on every ounce of their . . . of their blood. His own kind. How could he . . . How could . . . How could any of us . . .”

His final words may have been spoken, but only in his mind. They never escape his lips. The fires of the sun have caused too much damage. Asher’s heart stops.

I watch Victor throw several more stakes into his leather duffel.

“Are you sure he’ll be there?” I ask.

“I’m sure. It’s the only place that makes sense.”

An hour ago, Victor showed me on a map where he thought Sin would be, where he thought “it all began.” On the folded paper, marked with roads and cities, it was just a forest. Nothing more. But for Victor, it’s home. The old Valentine Manor, erected before vampires were ever known to exist. It’s where he spent his early years; it’s where Sin grew up under the oppressive weight of an abusive father.

“I’ll need three stakes,” I say. “So make sure you have enough for me. One of them has to be small, though, so I can strap it inside my boot.” Victor stops. “And make sure they’re razor sharp and steel. None of this wood crap.”

“Dawn—”

“We should probably wrap tape around the grip, make sure our hands don’t slip.”

“Dawn—”

“Maybe I should go get my metal collar.”

“Dawn!” I look up at him, knowing what he’s about to say. “You won’t be coming.”

I open my mouth to speak, but he shoves more stakes into the bag, making a loud clanging noise and cutting me off. “It’s not negotiable.”

“I’m a delegate. I negotiate.”

“Ex-delegate.”

“Maybe to the city. But to you, I’m more than that.”

“I know. Which is precisely why you’re not going. It’s too dangerous.”

“And that is
precisely
why I
am
going. To protect you.”

Victor looks up at the ceiling, his grip tense around the leather bag that carries his weapons of war. “I have no idea what I’m going to be facing. Sin could rip me apart in a few seconds, and it’ll all be over. That’s why Faith is staying behind. If something happens to me, she has to step up and become head of the Valentine family. And I’m not willing to risk you being another victim. No. I’ll fight better knowing you’re here, safe and sound.”

“That isn’t true,” I say. “Remember when you fought your father, when you . . . when you killed him. You said to me that I was the reason you drove the stake through his heart. Looking at me gave you that strength. The same with Brady. Our toughest battles have always been fought together. We . . . we fight as one.”

“Please, Dawn, not this time. If something happens to me . . . No, if something happens to
you
—”

“Then let it,” I say. “Because I . . . don’t make me say it, Victor.”

“What is it?” he asks. When did the distance between us close? When did he place his hands on my face?

“Because I can’t live in a world without you.”

“And I can’t create a new one without you.”

I want this new world that we’ve both dreamed of, but I want him more. “I hid in a closet when Sin took Brady. I was safe at home asleep in my bed when he killed my parents. I can’t—I won’t—let him have you. I love you too much.”

Raising up on my toes, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, conveying with my lips and tongue everything that I feel for him. Victor Valentine. Vampire. I risked loving him. I’m not willing to risk losing him.

Victor draws back and studies the determination in my eyes. Tenderly he brushes back my hair. “So, that’s three stakes, right?”

“And make sure they’re sharp!”

A black car sits ominously outside the building. Leaning against it are several of our friends.

“About time,” Michael says, a black duffel bag in his hand. He shakes it, and I can hear the metal stakes.

“I’ll drive first,” Richard says, his elbows on the roof of the driver’s side. “We’ll need a speed demon if we’re to get there in time, and frankly, Victor, you drive like my grandmother.”

“This will get us there and back, with plenty to spare,” Ian says, loading four orange gas canisters into the trunk.

Rachel is there, a big bag in her hands. “Now, I’ve packed all of you lunches. Let’s see, there’s turkey sandwiches, roast beef, um . . . what else? Ooh, I’ve got a few slices of pie. . . .”

As she rattles off the rest, I slap myself out of the shock I feel and look up at Victor. He appears as surprised as I am: stunned at our gathering of friends and allies.

Faith is standing beside Richard. I wish I had vampire ears to hear what they’re saying to each other. Or maybe not; they deserve their privacy. But my human eyes catch Faith trying to wipe away a tear without anyone noticing. Hundreds of years of practice and still not sly enough for me.

Tegan is holding Michael’s hand, and he reaches down and gives her a quick brush over the lips. I’m so glad they have each other.

“Everything looks good,” Jeff says, shutting the hood of the car. “Just go easy on the brakes, all right?”

I’m grateful Jeff isn’t suited up to go with us. The city needs him now more than ever. And as he rejoins Rachel, I can’t help noticing his hand lying gently on her stomach. Maybe it means nothing. Maybe it means everything.

Faith walks over to Victor. “I want to go, but . . .”

“A Valentine needs to be here in case things don’t go well,” Victor finishes for her.

She nods, swipes at another tear. “Just make sure things go well.”

He hugs her hard. “You’re a great sister.”

“You’re an okay brother.”

Laughing, Victor leans back and she turns to me. “Don’t let anything happen to him.”

“I won’t,” I promise.

Richard gives us our boarding call. “Let’s go, guys, plenty of night left.”

Victor, Michael, and I jump into the backseat. Richard and Ian take the front.

As we drive through the streets, I know that in the distance Clive is watching us go toward the walls, toward our final confrontation. I close my eyes and think about him and my parents and everyone I’m doing this for, and our road has never felt more straight.