Heart of the Dead: Vampire Superheroes (Perpetual Creatures Book 1) (32 page)

“It is not your fault, young one.” Shufah said, lifting Jerusa’s chin so that she could see the sincerity on her face. “You have nothing to apologize for. This was all due to my insolent, power-hungry brother. He alone bears the fault. You, sweet Jerusa, are gentle and brave and Foster loved you as a daughter.” Her voice broke just a little at the end and her eyes welled with red tears. Jerusa felt as though her heart was lodged in her throat.

“Don’t be sad,” Silvanus said to Shufah. “Foster hasn’t left you. He’s still here with us.”

Jerusa snapped around to face him. “How do you know that?”

He smiled and a bit of his former beauty shined through. “I can see him. He’s standing over there near your friend in the dress.” He pointed over Jerusa’s shoulder at Foster and Alicia.

“But how?”

Silvanus shrugged. “I don’t know. I first saw the girl after I drank your blood. I can see Foster now, as well. They aren’t as clear as before, though. I have a feeling that, in time, they will disappear from my sight completely.”

“Foster is here?” Shufah asked. The longing in her voice tore at Jerusa’s soul.

“Yes,” Jerusa said. “He is here with Alicia. He helped her distract Kole long enough for Silvanus to grab him. Would you like to see him?”

“I want to see him more than I can express, but sharing your blood with another vampire is a very intimate act. I can’t ask you to let me drink from you.”

Jerusa didn’t say so, but had Shufah asked, she would have let her drink from her. “I think there is another way. Give me your hand.”

Shufah placed her hand in Jerusa’s. She glanced around the darkness for a moment, and Jerusa feared that she had given her false hope. But then Foster began to glow and Shufah gasped.

“I can see him,” Shufah said in hushed awe. “I can see both of them.” She reached out with her free hand and Foster moved to take it. But as Shufah tried to weave her fingers into Foster’s, her hand passed through his.

Shufah pulled her hand out of Jerusa’s. Foster dropped his hand to his side as the light emanating from him flickered away.

“I had almost forgotten what a cruel gift it is to see the dead,” Shufah said. “To see, but never to touch or to hear. I know now that it is a blessing that the vampire spirit blinded my eyes to the dead.” She looked to Jerusa. “Someday, child, I fear you’ll beg for the same blindness.”

“But why can Jerusa still see spirits and you cannot?” Taos asked Shufah.

Shufah’s eyes twinkled for a moment before clouding over with despair once more. “I have my suspicions, but it’s up to Jerusa to reveal her secrets. My advice is not to betray yourself, child, if you do not trust those you are with.” Her eyes flicked to Taos.

It was true that Taos had started Jerusa’s journey as an enemy. But something had changed in him over the past two days. Had he not proven he was trustworthy? Could she not count him as an ally, if not a friend? Besides, what harm could come from the truth?

Jerusa touched the scar on her chest. “This is why I can see Alicia. I was born with a bad heart. Two years ago, I received a transplant. The heart beating within my chest belonged to a beautiful young girl who died in a car accident on the way to her prom. When I woke up, she was by my bedside. She’s been with me ever since. I borrowed this heart from Alicia and it is what binds us together. When I became a vampire, I was blinded to all other spirits, but not her. When I changed, she changed. And I think that it is through her that I can see Foster. That’s my guess, anyway.”

Shufah pointed at Taos. “If you wish to be called my friend, you would be wise to hide this secret deep. The Stewards have a way of twisting even the most benign detail to their favor.”

Taos bowed his head, but not in his usual mocking way. “I will carry this secret to my grave.”

Shufah looked again to Jerusa. “There may come a day when you must reveal your powers to the Stewards. Beware what you show them. Give them only a small taste.”

Jerusa nodded. She looked out the windows at the lightening sky. “The sun will be up soon. What are we going to do?”

“We can take refuge in one of the upper offices,” Taos suggested. “One of the inner rooms with no windows should work.”

“No, that’s too dangerous,” Shufah said. “There’s no way to fortify ourselves.”

“I can watch over you,” Silvanus said. “The sun poses no problem for me. I promise, no one will disturb you.”

They found a room on the third floor that suited their needs. They stuffed some clothing under the doorframe to block any sunlight that might seep in. Silvanus sat watch outside the door. Thad decided to make his way home under Shufah’s strict orders that he stick to the story of his Jeep being stolen, no matter what, and that she would sort the rest out later.

As they slept and the day spun into night, their wounds healed, leaving them without any evidence of the battle with Kole. They opened the door to find Silvanus sitting on the floor. He smiled at them, but the weariness in his face brought a pang of shock to Jerusa’s heart.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. He stood to his feet. “But I think it is time for me to leave. I need to regain my strength, then continue my search.”

“Your search for what?”

“For who I am.”

Jerusa started to argue, but the resolution in his eyes silenced her. She hugged him and kissed him lightly on the lips. A broad smile spanned his face and she realized that was most likely his first kiss.

“Would you like to come with me?” he asked. Jerusa’s heart jumped, but then fell flat when she realized what that would mean.

“I can’t.” She looked down at the floor. “I mean, I want to, but my mother is still here. I can’t just up and disappear on her. It would kill her.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here,” Shufah said. “You are known here. People will recognize the difference in you.”

“I understand, but I can’t just leave her. She’s my mom. I love her. Maybe I can live at the house for a while. Give her a chance to get used to me being away.”

Shufah searched Jerusa’s eyes. For a moment, she seemed as if she might argue, but she closed her mouth and nodded. “All right, then. If we are staying in town, we’ll have to make the house a little more appropriate for vampires.”

Silvanus nodded with approval. “When I find my answers, I will come back. You have my word.”

“You better,” Jerusa said.

Silvanus smiled. Then he was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Six

G
eneral Bradley Thomas Starnes moved through the bright hallways of the underground base — known informally as Purgatory — receiving salutes from lower officers and averted gazes from the civilian staff.

Purgatory had once been a nuclear silo housing several hydrogen bombs, but after the Cold War and the slimming down of atomic arsenals on both sides, the base had been decommissioned and nearly forgotten.

In late August of 2009, while on a black op in Cambodia, a Seal Team 6 troop was caught off guard and slaughtered by an unknown hostile force. The soldiers’ helmet-cams were not able to clearly identify the attacking force, but after careful scrutiny of the video, two points of interest became clear: The 6 Team was hit by a single aggressor, and that foe, withstanding several rounds of gunfire with no discernible armor, killed the team with his bare hands.

By the time a recon mission could be mounted, all that could found was a patch of scorched earth where the bodies of the soldiers had been cremated.

At first, it was believed that after years of failed research, some enemy nation had finally developed the much coveted super-soldier. Rumors and innuendoes floated about like trash in the Hudson. Stories surfaced, amounting to not much more than modern day retellings of myths.

After years of pushing and putting his career on the line, Starnes finally convinced his superiors to allow him to take the investigation in a new direction. Project Light-Bearer, named for a part of his life few were privy to, was created and housed in Purgatory.

But the years had yielded little progress in discovering who or what the Cambodian assailant was. Myths remained myths and the bitter fruit of their labor seemed to be endless dead ends. Reports to appropriation committees remained vague and noncommittal. General Starnes didn’t really care to have the president or the joint chiefs jabbing their noses into his derriere.

But three days ago, that all changed.

“Show me the containment room,” Starnes said to a pasty-faced civilian scientist named Goodalle.

Goodalle led Starnes down a labyrinth of corridors to an elevator guarded by two well-armed soldiers, then down four floors to the subbasement. When the elevator doors opened, the acrid stench of burnt electronics stung their eyes despite the industrial air purifiers running at full capacity for the past two days. The walls were scorched black and the floor was smeared with soot. The heat of the fire had been so intense that the glass in the observation windows had dripped from their frames to the floor in large, misshapen blobs.

Goodalle continued, in short choppy steps, past the sight of the fire into the observation room, where their progress was halted by a large plastic tent erected before the opening, creating an impromptu clean-room. Large industrial floor lamps lit the room while workers in bulky hazmat suits moved about like tireless bees. The walls inside remained mostly white, untouched by the fire and only slightly stained by the smoke. The heavy steel doors, removed from their frames and resting against the wall, were buckled outward, smashed open by an incredible amount of force.

Shards of what looked like obsidian were laid out on a stainless steel table. Starnes eyed it as though it were a table of gold.

Archeologists had found the obsidian object deep underground on a dig in Thebes. At first, they had thought it was a unique sculpture, unlike any found in the region. An agent, on the hunt for one of the enhanced beings reported in the area, stumbled across the discovery. The archeologists were dispatched and the artifact returned to Purgatory. Though they had come across a few of these strange obsidian objects before, this one was different. It was emitting a small bio-electrical signature.

“Any clue why this one hatched?” Starnes asked Goodalle.

The timid scientist flinched as if the general’s voice was a clap of thunder. “No, sir. It’s still beyond us just what triggered the reanimation. The other subjects remain as they were. No sign of life whatsoever.”

Starnes moved positions, pressing his face almost against the plastic barrier.

“The subject left a small amount of his blood on the door.” Goodalle’s voice fell out in a dreamy wisp and he seemed to be reliving the event in his mind. He cleared his throat as he blinked back into reality. “Unfortunately, most of it decayed before we were able to get to it.”

“But not all of it.” It was not a question. Starnes had already read the reports. He wanted to hear Goodalle say it.

Goodalle hesitated. He was afraid to say it. Afraid of where it would lead. Starnes despised the fear in the little man’s eyes. He was a scientist, for god’s sake. This little development should be making him as giddy as a hyena on laughing gas.

Starnes applied the full pressure of his glare and finally, Goodalle broke. “Yes. We were able to salvage a small amount of blood.” As an afterthought, he added: “Just a few cells, really.”

“Is it enough?”

Goodalle’s shoulders slumped. “Yes. It’s enough.”

“Excellent. Start cloning it at once.”

* * *

It took a little less than two weeks to finish the job.

The crew had been called in to remodel an existing home to accommodate three vampires. It was one of the perks of being on the building crew. Most of the bitten never left the border of the quarantine community. But since vampires couldn’t work in the daylight, and they didn’t trust their secrets to ordinary humans, they relied on crews of bitten workers to tackle projects such as these. A fine line between providing a service and servitude, but when you were bitten, you played the cards you were dealt.

There were twelve on this crew, men and women, all bitten, living in the quarantine community, some by choice, others awaiting approval from the Stewards to be changed. They were as close as any family — or prison mates, if you preferred that term.

The twelve worked day and night in the home, fortifying the walls, installing reinforced windows, and turning the basement into a daytime sanctuary. The tall blond vampire was gruff and bossy, but the two women were always kind. Occasionally, a young man — bitten, they assumed — would stop by and ask questions about the community towns.

All in all, it was a good job.

At the end of the two weeks, the crew packed up their things and made the ten-hour drive back to the community town nestled at the base of the Smoky Mountains. They arrived just after dark. The streets were deserted, which was odd, but not completely out of the range of normal. Perhaps there had been a lockdown. Or a visit from the Stewards.

The thought of the latter sent the crew into a frenzy of speculation. They drove straight to the house of the Keeper — the vampire selected by the Stewards to watch over the quarantine community. If the town was on lockdown, they would need to report to him anyway.

There was something strange about the town. A grave-like silence seemed to flood every street, permeate every house. Had the town been abandoned? Had everyone fled to another quarantine community? They continued on to the only place they knew to go. The Keeper would know what to do.

As they approached the driveway of the large house on the hill, the gate rolled open. The Keeper must be watching on the security camera. Perhaps he was expecting them.

They parked in front of the large stone house and entered by the front door. When the door closed behind them, heavy steel pinions dropped into the floor, locking them inside. None attempted to exit through the door. They had installed the security system on this house themselves and each man knew the futility of escape.

The room was cast in deep shadows and an overwhelming stench of rot hung in the air like a thick smoke. They had no choice but to press on into the house, calling the Keeper’s name. The only answer was their own voices echoing off of the high ceilings. The expensive furniture lay scattered about, smashed, as though a tornado had ripped through the house. It was in the kitchen that they found the first body.