LEGIONS OF THE DARK (VAMPIRE NATIONS CHRONICLES) (33 page)

Dell fell back from George's clutching fingers as the door to the old house flew open. In the garish light from the battery operated lantern the two vampires stood as tall as the doorsill, their long shadows curling over the floor and up onto the opposite wall. "Mentor," she screamed, so relieved that she went to her knees.

She hadn't known what to do. The old man was insane, slobbering, his teeth shining in the lamplight from stretched tight lips. He was a horror to behold. Weeping sores oozed on his old wrinkled neck. There were soiled bandages on his forehead, and other bandages were coming loose from his hands. He could hardly walk and grimaced all the time, scowling from thick white brows.

"I have porphyria," he said. "You're going to save me from it."

"I don't know how to do that," she insisted.

"Yes, you do. You will take my blood, but not enough to kill me. You'll bring me to the brink of death and let me return. You'll make me like you."

"You don't understand. We aren't like that. Only a few of us ever do what you're asking. We're genetically changed by the same disease you have. In us, it mutated and caused us to be vampire, and now it's a gene we carry. We pass it down through generations. But we don't turn one another into vampire the way you're asking." She was lying. They could change others if they wished, but she'd never tell him that.

His idea of vampires was very distorted and he could not understand that she was like a vampire child, untried, unlearned, and probably incapable of doing what he wished.

"I'll have George douse you with gasoline from the car and set you afire if you don't do what I want," he threatened. His gaze was as evil and unrelenting as any Predator's. She knew he meant it.

All she could do was to send out a plea for help, for Mentor—either that or kill the old man, and she did not want to kill, ever. Her anger, which sat near the surface all the time, was moving out of control, however, and she feared what she might do to the two men if someone didn't come to her rescue.

She didn't want to do it. She didn't want to hurt them. The old man was desperate and disillusioned. He was pitiful.

And now Ross had him by the throat. She got to her feet and ran forward to pound on Ross' steel-vise arms. "Don't hurt him, don't!" She didn't know what possessed her. She couldn't think about anything but deterring murder in her presence.

"I'll kill him!"

Even as she screamed no and pleaded with Mentor to intervene, Ross swooped low over the old man's neck. Dell reached between them and caught Ross around the neck, hauling him backward. He let go of the old man and knocked her back so hard she flew across the floor, out the door, and all the way across the small broken porch to the bare yard outside.

Inside, Ross sank inch-long fangs into Upton's throat. The old man arched his body, crying out in pain and terror. George ran to him and beat at Ross' face with his fists. Ross swept him aside with his free hand, throwing him to the floor.

As Upton's blood rushed into Ross, he fell into the other man's thoughts and realized with sudden shock how alike they were. The old man said telepathically: Make me like you and I'll give you more power than you've ever dreamed existed. I can help you. Search your soul and see if I'm not telling the truth.

Mentor stood as if in a trance, then suddenly he moved, rushing outdoors to see about Dell. He lifted her into his arms and tried to get her to her feet.

Inside, using these few seconds alone to make a decision, Ross spoke aloud to Upton. "What can you do for me? Show me." He bent to the old man's bloody neck to take more of his life.

Upton, nearing death, showed Ross all the possibilities. How together they would siphon off from Upton Enterprises all the funds Ross might ever need. When they had enough, they would begin buying corporations, going global, until they owned the largest financial empire in the world. How he'd share all that with Ross, give him anything, give him not only riches, but enough power to do as he pleased about the Cravens and the Naturals. If only he'd make Charles vampire, they could do anything.

Ross paused and removed his lips from the old man's throat. He looked deep into the man's eyes and saw there a kindred spirit, someone so much like himself that it was like seeing a mirror image. "All right," he growled, blood dripping from his lower lip. "I'll give you immortality. And you will give me whatever I ask, forever."

"Yes," Upton whispered hoarsely. "Anything. Everything. Forever."

Ross sank his fangs again for the third time, forcing back the old man's head, bringing him just to the brink of death, feeling his heart beat slower and slower. Then Ross drew back and dropped Upton to the floor. He'd been tempted to kill him anyway, but the thought of what he'd been promised stopped him at the last moment.

Dell, unhurt, entered the house and knelt with George over the old man. He was bleeding profusely from the neck. George tried to cover the wound, but blood welled beneath the palm of his hand and rivered to the floor.

The old man opened his eyes. "I'll be like them," he said. "I'll live forever now. Don't worry, George, don't worry."

Dell looked for Ryan and found him cringing in the corner. She took his hand, lifting him, and pulling him with her to Upton. She stooped down, felt of the old man's heart.

"You shouldn't have come for me," she said, sorry for him now. He was crazy and sick and old and he probably would have killed her—except now she realized she never would have permitted him to do that. With him prostrate on the floor in a pool of his own blood, she could sense the depth of his despair, his terrible longing for life, and she respected that about him. He was human. At least for the moment. He should not die this way.

She heard the sounds of struggle outside the house and left the old man, rushing to the door to see about Mentor. "Stop it!" she screamed. "Ross, stop it!"

Ross had Mentor on the ground, pushing his face in the dirt. Wind whipped Ross' coat jacket away from his body and slicked his hair to his head. He turned to her, teeth bared, eyes like coals, and he growled.

Dell felt all the anger rise within her that had been building ever since she died. It had been lying in wait, crouching within her, eager to spring to the forefront of her consciousness. It came on her in a tremendous wave. It felt red and fiery; it felt slick and red and bloody.

She looked around and saw Ryan watching the scene, frozen in place. He was caught in a nightmare that might never end. She must do something to stop it.

She leaped from the door across the broken porch, past the steps, and landed on Ross' back. She dug her hands into his shoulders, clawing at him. Her fangs locked on the back of his neck where it was exposed just above his collar.

Ross howled and tried to throw her off. She tasted blood, warm blood, the first she'd ever tasted and it filled her with images of great rivers, deep gorges, endless caves, dark, dark, dark woods where the moon shone scarlet and the wind carried death on its feathery wings. She bit down harder, seeking a vein, hunting for it the way a mole will dig through earth, making a tunnel toward a tasty root. She jerked her head this way and that, her eyes closed tightly, rending the flesh beneath her teeth with a viciousness that welled straight from her soul.

Ross fell off Mentor and twisted, taking her by the hair and pulling with all his might. Dell knew nothing, felt nothing but hunger. She felt no pain from the tearing of her hair from her scalp, no fear of the huge Predator who was more powerful than any who might have lived. She meant to kill him and take his blood. She'd find the vein, she'd bite down until she reached it, and then he would be hers.

Lightning struck her in the head, or that was what it felt like, and she was flung across the ground, rolling like a tumbleweed. Mentor stood over her, glaring and pointing. "You stay here," he said. "You are not to engage in battle."

Blood dripped from her lips and down her chin. Her tongue snaked out and she licked it clean, then she smiled. "If he touches you again, I'll be sure to kill him."

Mentor turned swiftly to Ross. Dell saw he was up now, a hand to the back of his neck. He was hunched over. She knew she'd hurt him. If Mentor hadn't intervened, she might not have taken his life, but she wouldn't have stopped trying. Her arms felt as if they were made of steel. Her body felt as strong as stone. Her mind swirled with the aftertaste of his blood. Though she thought they were all cold and dead, it wasn't true! His blood had been warm and alive. It still tingled on her tongue and through her veins, giving her strength and the desire to take more.

Ross scowled at Mentor then he looked with new, bright anger at Dell. "You'd better do something with her," he said. "If I ever come across her alone, she's mine."

"Handle your own business, Ross. I am the master in this region. If I have to, I'll get you replaced."

"You'll try to kill me, you mean. You're nothing but a weak old man, Mentor. You should never threaten me."

Ross raised his hands, his coat whipping out behind him, and leaped to the rooftop of the house. From there he shouted at the sky, "He is Master, he says! We shall see about that!"

Dell came to her feet, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She watched as Ross rose high into the sky, not bothering to transform, but flying like a bird, holding his arms out, his legs together and sailing faster than the human eye could see above the plowed fields into the starry night.

She turned away and saw Ryan standing on the old porch. She went to him and took his hand. "I'm sorry you had to see all this," she said.

Mentor patted the boy on the shoulder as he went into the house. He found the servant still hovering over the old man, holding a hand to the wound Ross had made.

"You," Mentor said, standing over the servant. "Get in the car and leave this place."

George looked at him in fear, but as Mentor stood there, George's face grew lax and still, expressionless. Dell watched from the doorway as Mentor performed his magic on the other man's memories, clearing them, making him forget.

George rose, and Mentor took his elbow gently, leading him to the door. He watched until the man opened the car door, got inside, started the motor, and drove away. Then he turned back for the old man.

"What are you going to do with him?" Dell asked. She hunched her shoulders at what Mentor's answer might be. She did not want to have to fight him. Though Ross' blood still gave her the feeling of superhuman power, she knew that she was no match for Mentor.

"I'm going to help him change over. Ross made him one of us. Now . . . I have to help him. Get out of here, Dell. Take your young man. Go wait outside."

Dell watched a moment before leaving. She felt guilty and relieved all at once. She saw Mentor sit down by the body and place his hand on the old man's bandaged forehead.

So that is what he did for me, she thought. When I died. And now the man is dying, too, and he will be vampire. Just as he had hoped. Just as he'd wanted.

He has been granted his last wish because of me.

~*~

Charles Upton swooned into a dream as the huge vampire snatched him up and sank fangs into his neck. He fought, an instinct he couldn't help, trying to free himself from the vampire's embrace. His mind screamed out in denial that it was happening. Though he'd dreamed of it, hunted for it, and lusted for it the way another man might lust for fame or fortune or a woman, when it actually began to occur, he wanted to get away from it. He felt his life leave him by increments, moving from his old body into the firm young body of the vampire. He could not fight him off, could not free himself, couldn't even cry out for help.

I don't want to die, he thought finally, in the last seconds of his dying throes. I want to be like you, like you, make me like you and together we'll rule the world. . . .

And then all was darkness. Someone sat nearby him and commanded that he rise. He sat, opening his eyes and looking around. It couldn't be heaven and his companion was not an angel. He was in a frightful place that merely resembled Earth but he knew it was not. It was somewhere he did not want to be.

"Help me," he cried, turning and clutching the old man's hand who sat beside him. "Help me, mister. Who are you?"

"I am Mentor, and I've come to guide you. What kind of soul do you have?"

"I am a good man . . ."

"You are a cruel, ruthless, sinful man. I suspect that is your soul showing, but I may be wrong. What kind of soul do you have, Mr. Upton?"

Upton heard something rustling not far away and he turned to see. There were bare trees all around and dark, thick forest debris where he sat. It crawled with things. He could feel them beneath his skinny buttocks, could sense them moving and wriggling through the leaves and decomposed matter, seeking his flesh. He scrambled to his feet. The rustling he'd heard strengthened and turned into the roaring sound of a locomotive. He began to tremble and clutched Mentor's hand so tightly his fist hurt. "What's that?" he whispered.