Rule of Vampire (21 page)

This time, when the citizens of Bend started to disappear, the homeless weren’t the victims. Of course, in a sense, they were already the disappeared––in the eyes of society, anyway. But Billy and his friends knew most of them, and Father Harry and those who worked at the St. Francis shelter kept a rough count.

Billy was a little surprised that he had managed to talk as many of the homeless into coming indoors at night as he had. All the shelters were making room, quietly breaking capacity regulations until the emergency was over. Some of the operators were told the problem was marauding gangs, others that there was a serial killer active in the area, and a select few––mostly those who had spent earlier lives on the streets––were told the truth.

Monsters.

The only advantage the homeless had over the stalwart citizens of Bend was that they believed in monsters. They’d
seen
monsters. When Billy told them there were vampires on the loose, they believed him––except for a few deluded souls like Jill, whose mind-set was still that of a middle-class woman, even as her body resided in a tent on a dirt lot.

“Well, then, lady, I’m staying with you,” Billy told her now. He could count on Perry and Grime to get the other homeless folks in town into shelters. They were locals; they knew their way around.

They had taken Billy aside and told him the story of Terrill, the vampire who had turned human, and about his love for Sylvie, the human girl.

“Not all vampires are bad,” Perry had concluded.

“Gud… ’uns,” Grime had added in his muddled way.

Billy wasn’t sure he believed it. Until then, he’d thought all vampires were evil and the only good vampire was a dead one. He was still going to act as if that assumption was true.

In the backpack slung over his shoulder, he had an anti-vampire package that Father Harry had assembled: a spray bottle filled with holy water, blessed that morning; a couple of sharp wooden stakes; a giant silver cross, valuable enough that, if he pawned it, he could afford to live in a motel for a few months, but he’d resisted doing that so far. The priest had also taught him a few Catholic prayers for banishing demons.

It was all untested, but Billy was halfway looking forward to being able to use his vampire hunter’s arsenal.

Best of all, Father Harry had thoughtfully included a bottle of sacramental wine. Billy put the backpack on the ground and pulled out the bottle.

Jill’s face lit up. “Why, Billy, I think you’re trying to get into my pants!”

Billy suppressed a shudder. Jill weighed at least three hundred pounds, and while she always sported a nice hairdo and a manicure, she wasn’t so punctilious about her bathing. “Nah… I know you like them young, Jill,” he said, laughing.

He built up the fire and put one of the stakes and the holy water within easy reach. He stuck the cross in the ground just behind where he and Jill were sitting.

He let her drink most of the wine, taking only a few sips himself. For once in his life, wine had little appeal. He couldn’t afford not to be vigilant. In fact, he’d never stopped being vigilant since the moment he’d watched his friends torn apart by those
things
.

It was about midnight when Billy sensed the monster approach. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck rising. He reached down and shook Jill, who was snoring, her head in his lap.

“Wha…” Jill started to say; then she, too, sensed the danger and fell silent.

Billy stood up, the fire at his back, the crucifix in front of him. He had the spray bottle of holy water in one hand, the stake in the other. Jill scooted back in the dirt, nearly going into the fire, and peered out between his legs.

He started to chant the prayer that Father Harry had taught him. “Glorious Saint Michael, Prince of the Heavenly hosts, who fought with the Dragon, the Old Serpent, and cast him out of Heaven…”

The vampire had been striding confidently toward them, but once he saw the cross, he began to creep to one side. Now, as Billy started chanting, the vampire hissed and backed up a step. Billy wasn’t religious, but seeing these results was going to make him question his skepticism, that was for sure.

“I earnestly entreat you to assist me also, in the painful and dangerous conflict which I sustain against the same formidable foe.”

The vampire stopped and stared at him as if confused. Under other circumstances, he might have looked like an ordinary guy, but fangs distorted his face and his eyes glowed red in the firelight. He wore black-rimmed glasses, which was strange, because from what Billy had learned from Father Harry––who thought of himself as an experienced vampire hunter––vampires could see better than any human.
Either camouflage or habit,
Billy thought. There was a look of hate and hunger on the vampire’s face that transformed it from that of a young man to that of an ancient evil.

“Be with me, O mighty Prince! That I may courageously fight and vanquish that proud spirit, whom you, by the Divine Power, gloriously overthrew…”

The vampire had stopped hissing and was wavering. Billy held the holy water and stake at the ready.

Then the creature simply disappeared. He fled into the darkness so fast that Billy lost sight of him in the blink of an eye. Behind him, Jill was cowering on the ground and whimpering. Billy’s legs went weak all of sudden. He sat down heavily on a nearby log.

“Now will you go inside with me, Jill?” he asked softly.

She didn’t answer, but he knew she was convinced.

#

To hell with those bums!
Stuart thought.
Who needs them?

He’d had a busy and successful week, having already Turned and then trained three vampires. He had them all convinced they wouldn’t survive without him. He’d embellished the truth about himself, drawing on all the vampire movies and TV shows he’d ever seen to concoct a background of hundreds of years and thousands of victims.

Having spent so much time on his disciples, Stuart was a little tired and just wanted an easy meal. Bums tended to taste pretty bad, but they’d do in a pinch and were usually easy prey.

The sensations he’d felt when the homeless guy was chanting his prayers had been strange. The crucifix in the ground had repelled him, and the wooden stake and spray bottle had scared him a little. He’d watched as Greg had burned outside his house, killed with similar implements.

It was weird: he’d never been religious, and yet here he was being forced away from a perfectly good meal by the symbols of religion. Maybe he was damned. Hell,
of course
he was damned.

And he didn’t care.

He settled for a teenage girl who was sneaking back into her house after a night of partying. She started to scream when he grabbed her ponytail. He wrenched her head back and tore into her neck, cutting her off in mid-cry. She tasted better than any bum would have, anyway. As a bonus, she was drunk. Stuart drank the alcohol-infused blood and got one of the best highs he’d ever had.

He sat on the darkened front porch and ate the girl’s flesh, down to the bones. He tossed the bones, one by one, out onto the lawn. He wasn’t ready to take on another new disciple just yet. Well, now that he thought about it, it was time he Turned a girl: a good-looking girl. He’d been concentrating on the muscle and had forgotten how nice it was to have a female around, especially one who was in his power.

So far, he’d managed not to start a panic in Bend. He could still operate with impunity, though the homeless population seemed to be on alert. He probably shouldn’t have thrown the girl’s bones on her own lawn, but maybe some stray dogs would carry them off or something.

It didn’t matter. Stuart didn’t plan to stick around for long.

With each new vampire, he was learning how to bend them more quickly to his will. In a week or two, he’d have enough of them to really accomplish something. He couldn’t wait. He’d pile them into a few vans and they’d invade Crescent City, and he’d show his hometown what he really thought of it.

Chapter 34

It hadn’t gone as Feller had planned. After the ambush at the motel, they’d found only a few straggler vampires. They hadn’t located either the vampire named Jamie, who was the vector of this outbreak, or the Alpha vampire who had set up the ambush. Without them, the victory was incomplete.

Nor had anyone spotted Clarkson since the sighting at the restaurant by Callendar and Jeffers. It was as if she’d disappeared––and yet, not long after that sighting, the vampire attacks had begun. Was Clarkson the cause of the outbreak, and not this Jamie? According to reports, the blonde vampire belonged to the Council of Vampires, the enforcers of the Rules, and this epidemic of new vampires was diametrically opposed to everything the Council stood for; still, it seemed like a strange coincidence.

So far, the FBI had only managed to kill Wilderings, vampires who were vulnerable because they were controlled by their instincts and desires and not by reason; vampires who hadn’t been taught how to survive.

The whole campaign had been a boost to Feller’s career, but without the death of one of the major players, it wasn’t the surefire promotion engine that he’d envisioned. Callendar and Jeffers were going to get too much of the credit. Though Feller had convinced his superiors, through his reports, that he and Abercrombie were the heroes of the Massacre at the Comfort Inn, as it was being called in the Bureau, to his great annoyance, the rank and file were mostly applauding Callendar and Jeffers.

Feller continued to search for vampires, day after day, until even Abercrombie had had enough and stayed back at the motel, watching Judge Judy, and Judge Brown, and Judge whoever else while he waited for Feller to call him for backup.

Feller started patrolling by himself, though it was against regulations. When he wasn’t patrolling, he was poring over the maps and reports of vampire sightings.

He was driving past the abandoned motel and restaurant on the beach for the hundredth time when he suddenly realized that there had been no reports of vampirism in this part of town. He pulled into the parking lot and eyeballed the buildings. They were quiet and dark.

He pulled out the map and checked it. Sure enough, there was a nice, wide empty zone radiating out from the nearby beach and stretching about half a mile inland. Everywhere else in town showed at least a few of the red marks that denoted attacks.

Feller scanned the surrounding terrain. Across the highway from the motel was some thick shrubbery, perfect cover for vampires. The abandoned buildings themselves were the kinds of places a vampire might find irresistible. Had they been checked?

He looked over the reports. There’d been a search in the early days of the epidemic, after Callendar and Jeffers had first gotten into town. Nothing since then. Since there had been no attacks in the vicinity, no one had thought to check again.

A feeling of dread came over him. He could almost sense a vampire lurking within the abandoned motel. Should he call Abercrombie? His partner would come, but if there wasn’t anything here, Feller would never hear the end of it. He could call for backup from one of the other FBI units, but they’d naturally wonder why Abercrombie wasn’t there. An agent who couldn’t get along with his partner didn’t progress far up the ranks.

He had no evidence whatsoever. In fact, there was an absence of evidence. While to Feller the absence of evidence was suspicious, to just about anyone else in the Bureau, it would be the opposite.

But the biggest reason he didn’t call for backup was that Callendar and Jeffers were still in town, and they’d never let him forget it if he called out the troops for no good reason.

Feller pulled the big crucifix he wore around his neck out from under his shirt and draped it over his chest. He loaded his crossbow and checked to make sure he had an extra clip for his pistol, then sprayed himself with holy water. It would take ten or fifteen minutes to evaporate, and even then, it would leave a residue.

But his biggest defense was his caution. He’d approached a thousand buildings like these in his career. He knew how to be quiet and unobtrusive. If there was a vampire in there, he’d probably catch it before it even knew he was there.

The sun was high in the sky when Feller got out of the car, and it made him feel safe.

He crept over to what had been the motel office and peeked in through the slats of the boarded-up window. Inside, it was empty and dusty.

The first motel room
was boarded up tight. Feller tried the door, but it was locked. He tried the next three doors, but they were all locked, too. No vampire had entered or exited any of these rooms, as far as he could tell.

Finally, he approached the restaurant. As he was gingerly reaching for the doorknob, the door flew open and several arms shot out and grabbed him. The arms burst into flames, but before he could even shout, they’d dragged him inside.

There wasn’t just one vampire in the room; there were over a dozen. Feller tried to struggle, but his arms were being held tightly behind him. Standing in front of him was a boy, probably in his early teens, who looked up at him and smiled.

“I’ve been reading your reports, Agent Feller,” the kid said. “My name is Hoss. Welcome to the local branch of the Council of Vampires.”

What does that mean?
Feller wondered. These were Wilderings if he’d ever seen one. The kid had a measuring look in his eyes.

“If you kill me, every agent in the Bureau will come after you,” Feller said.

“Oh?” the boy said. “I thought they already were.” He turned to a tall kid next to him. “Get his keys. The minute it turns dark, drive his car across town and leave it near the Comfort Inn.”

“OK, Hoss.”

Feller’s heart sank. This was an Alpha vampire––an untrained one, perhaps, but a natural. “Did you set up the ambush?” he asked.

“Not me, though I read about it. Sounded like fun.” Hoss turned to another boy, who was probably just a couple of years older than him. “Hold him down, Jimmy.”

“You heard Hoss! Hold him down!” Jimmy said, delegating, and several vampires rushed forward, grabbed Feller, and dragged him to the table at the center of the room.