Rule of Vampire (28 page)

“Follow me,” he said to his progeny, and crawled into the hole.

He emerged into what looked like the living room of a house, if the house had been made of shrubbery. One vampire was throwing the head of another vampire into the bushes. A third vampire, who looked like an old man, was standing nearby, looking horrified. The room was splattered with blue blood.

“Fitz!” cried the old-looking vampire.

The vampire who had thrown the head turned and frowned at him. Stuart took an immediate dislike to him. “Fitz” had the manner of every teacher, every relative, every authoritarian adult who had ever looked down on him: the pompous, smug look of someone who thought he was in charge.

“Who are you?” the vampire demanded.

“My name is Stuart. This is my town.”

“Your town?” The man called Fitz laughed. “And you’re welcome to it. What do you want, Stuart? We’re a little busy here.”

“I want to know what you’re doing here. In my town.”

“You do, do you?”

That’s it,
Stuart thought.
Vampire or no vampire, I’m killing this asshole
. The last of his followers had come in, and the room was crowded.

“Grab him,” he said, and three of his men rushed forward. The bossy vampire had a sword and he chopped at his attackers, and Stuart was interested to see how fast the movement was.

As his progeny struggled to control Fitz, Stuart motioned for Pete and Jimmy to help them. Between the five of them, they managed to secure the furious vampire. The sword hit the carpet with a dull thud.

The older-looking vampire had backed away into one corner. Stuart raised his finger at him. “Stay out of this.”

“Stop this at once!” Fitzsimmons shouted angrily. “You can’t do this to me! I’m Jonathan Fitzsimmons, president of the Council of Vampires!”

“Council of Vampires? What the hell is that?”

“We are the governing body of our people.”

“Well, Mr. President Vampire, I don’t believe in governing
anything
.” Stuart reached down and picked up the sword.

The prisoner changed his tone. “Wait, young man. You’ve got me all wrong. I am against the Rules more than anyone. I only joined the Council in order to destroy it. I’m like you. I want freedom…”

“Make up your freaking mind,” Stuart said. Then he grinned and shrugged. “I don’t really care, actually. I don’t like you, mister. This is
my
town, and you’re interfering with my plans. I’m going to make sure you never interfere again. Hold him down, boys.”

“Wait!” The foreign vampire’s dignity was now completely gone. He started babbling. “I can help you! I know things that will––”

Stuart brought down the sword as hard as he could. The blow severed the connective tissue in the vampire’s shoulder and his arm flopped to the ground. Blue blood splattered all over the nearby bushes. As Fitzsimmons screamed, Stuart chopped off his other arm. Then he stood back to examine his handiwork.
Not quite done,
he decided.

He brought the blade down on the vampire’s right ankle and the foot dropped away; then he took off the other foot.

Stuart nodded in satisfaction. “See you around, Mr. President. Next time I’ll take your head.”

At the last second, he decided to keep the sword and crawled out of the tunnel with it in his hand. Within a few hundred feet, he had already dismissed the incident from his mind.

#

Peterson stared down at his boss, uncertain what to do. Fitz wouldn’t stop screaming, so Peterson drew back his foot and kicked him in the head. He fell mercifully quiet.

Can he survive this?
Peterson wondered. He’d never cared much for his boss. Too arrogant. But one thing he knew for sure: without Fitz, his power was gone. He’d be at the mercy of his opponents. As long as Fitzsimmons was alive, there was a chance he could recover his power.

It was certainly an eye-opener to know that Fitz’s real agenda was to destroy the Council. But he’d been right: Peterson didn’t care, as long as he could retain his power, prestige, and privileges. He’d have to stop Fitzsimmons before he finished the job, of course, or there would be no power left to be had.

Fitz will be at my mercy,
Peterson thought.
Until a transition can take place, he can be a figurehead. Hah!
He laughed at the image. A figurehead would be all Fitz
could
be, given his new circumstances. Peterson picked up his former boss’s body and slung it over his shoulder.

The private jet was still sitting on the tarmac, with enough fuel to make it to the nearest airport. It was Peterson’s jet: he’d chosen it and flown it, though the Council officially owned it. One of those little perks of being a councilor; and unfortunately, he still needed Fitzsimmons for that.

Peterson didn’t know what the hell was going on in this town, and he no longer cared. He crawled through the tunnel, shoving Fitz’s body along before him, stood up, slung the still-bleeding vampire over his shoulder again and started trotting toward the airport.

He could be in the air within the hour.

#

Marc watched all the comings and goings, hidden in a broken-down garage within sight of the hideaway’s entrance. He was in shock. He didn’t know what to make of what he’d just seen.

He remembered the look of peace on Michael’s face. He’d obviously been willing to be sacrificed, since he’d stood there and let Fitzsimmons kill him. It was as if he’d
wanted
it to happen.

Marc felt a kind of religious awe overtake him. This story must be told: how Michael, the oldest and most powerful vampire in history, had allowed himself to be sacrificed rather than defend himself, rather than kill again; how his descendants, Terrill and Jamie, were the inheritors of that philosophy.

In Marc’s mind, the words were already flowing.

He made his way to the thrift store, which had been looted in his absence. He closed the door of his office, sat at his desk, pulled out a piece of paper, and starting writing.

The Ancient One, Michael, gave his life that we might live…

Chapter 44

Robert emerged from the Armory and quickly rolled a large rock against the hole in the wall. He looked around to see if any of the Wilderings had noticed, but they were ignoring him, perhaps sensing that he’d been Turned and was no longer a target.

He made his way through the mass of vampires and out onto the street. His police cruiser was still there, and he had the keys in his pocket. He wended his way through the cluttered, chaotic streets, at times being forced to drive over sidewalks and lawns, and even through a fence or two. Once on the highway, the going was easier, and he reached the abandoned motel and restaurant a few minutes later.

Robert had been ready to give his life for Jamie. But Terrill had asked the right question: Was he willing to become vampire to save her?… for his life wasn’t going to be enough.

He’d thought about it from time to time, of course. What dying man wouldn’t? But he’d rejected it as against God’s will. We were given time on this Earth, each our own measure, and it was not for us to question it: that’s what he’d always believed.

But it was no longer about him. It was about Jamie––and as a weakened, mortal man, he had no chance of saving her.

To his great surprise, his love for Jamie hadn’t lessened after his Turning, nor had his concern for others. He’d always held the traditional view that vampires had no conscience––well, not that he’d ever believed they really existed. But if they did exist, he’d always thought, they would be savage creatures filled with bloodlust. That seemed to be true for the vast majority of those who had been Turned vampire, he now knew.

But there was a new breed, exemplified by Terrill, Jamie and Clarkson, and (he hoped) himself, who didn’t kill unless it was necessary, who felt remorse, who controlled their bloodlust. Terrill had called them Golden Vampires.

As Robert stood at the doorway of the motel, he realized that all his youthful vigor had returned, plus a speed and strength he hadn’t known was possible. The door was locked, but he broke it open with only a push.

The room was a mess, as if a band of teenagers had been camping out there. An armchair with most of its stuffing coming out was set beneath a crude sign with the Rules of Vampire written on it in colored marker. Despite his urgency, he took the time to read the six Rules.

He shook his head. They were not going to be his Rules, for they still involved the killing of innocents, and he wasn’t going to do that. If he couldn’t restrain his impulses, he’d take Terrill up on his offer and end his existence.

But not until he had saved Jamie.

He made his way quietly through the holes in the walls until he reached the last room. Jamie was tied up, leaning against the wall, looking as though she’d been beaten, with blue blood all down her front. She hadn’t healed because she hadn’t fed. Her head was hanging down on her chest.

Standing next to her, his eyes fixed on the door as if waiting for Robert, was FBI Special Agent Feller, still dressed in his SWAT gear.

“You know, when Callendar told me you’d fallen in love with a vampire, I couldn’t believe it,” Feller said. “Straitlaced, self-righteous Robert Jurgenson? Of course, now I understand the appeal; I just didn’t expect it of you.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been Turned? I wouldn’t have thought you’d let that happen, either.”

“I’ve been Turned,” Robert agreed. “But I have no intention of living as a vampire, feeding off others. I let myself be Turned for only one reason.”

“To save your girlfriend?” Feller was mocking him, but Robert didn’t care.

Jamie was trying to lift her head; her eyes were trying to focus on him. “Robert?” she said softly. “Run, Robert. You can’t beat a vampire.”

Feller laughed. “She seems to think you wouldn’t allow yourself to become vampire, Robert. I think you’ve disappointed her.”

“Let her go, Feller,” Robert said. “What does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t; not in the least. Except… the president of the Council of Vampires asked me to guard her, and, well, I think he can do more for me than some small-town cop.”

“Always sucking up to authority, aren’t you, Feller?” Robert shook his head. “Becoming vampire hasn’t changed you a bit––you always were a petty, soulless opportunist.”

That hit home. Feller’s face flushed a dark hue from the sudden infusion of blue blood. “Get out of here, Jurgenson. You can’t take me––you never could. I’m a trained federal agent and you’re just a local cop. No contest. Being vampire? That will just make your defeat faster.”

A vampire trained in the martial arts,
Robert thought,
might be a very dangerous thing.
But a vampire fighting to save the woman he loves is even more dangerous.

Feller attacked, and from the beginning, it was clear that Robert couldn’t match his moves. He didn’t even see them coming at first. He found himself flying across the room, slamming against the wall, then flying in the opposite direction before he’d even had a chance to get up.

And then something changed. He still had no way to compete with Feller’s training, but it was as if he started to see the attacks coming. He stepped aside from one, ducked underneath another, and after he dodged a third blow, he slammed his fist into Feller’s stomach.

Feller doubled over, but only for a second. He straightened up, looking a little confused, and then, in a blur of motion, was on Robert again, to his left, to his right; but still Robert seemed to anticipate and block his every blow.

Robert went on the offensive. He didn’t try to use any of the moves he’d been trained in, for he suspected Feller would be prepared for that. Instead, he used his anger and his fear for Jamie’s safety to fuel his attack, laying into his opponent with a flurry of blows. Feller only blocked half of them. The other half opened wounds on his body, and blue blood flew about the room.

Jamie was trying to get up, despite being weak, wounded, and still tied up. She was watching Robert with an amazed expression.

Feller, too, was looking shocked. He retreated under Robert’s fury.

Too late, Robert saw that he’d retreated right over to where Jamie lay.
Clever.
The agent pulled out a wooden stake and placed it over Jamie’s heart.

“Stay back,” he warned. “If I can’t keep you from taking her, I’ll kill her first.”

Robert stopped. There was a curtain covering the window, and for the first time in days, sunlight was peeking through. The clouds had broken at last.

Robert started toward Feller.

“I warned you!” Feller slammed the stake into Jamie, who let out a huff and then a regretful-sounding sigh. Robert reached them just as the stake went in and slapped Feller across the room.

He put his arm down to Jamie’s mouth. “Bite,” he commanded.

She looked up at him, but didn’t seem to understand his order. There was a look of love and resignation in her eyes, as if she was simply glad to see him one last time. He tore into his own arm, and a surge of golden blood poured out of him and into her mouth.

Then Feller landed on his back, and Robert felt the stake go through his heart. Desperately, he reached up and tore open the curtains.

Robert felt the sunlight on his skin, and he heard screaming, though he wasn’t sure if it was himself or Jamie or Feller he heard, or all of them. Then, blessedly, he passed out.

#

He woke up with the sun on his face. He felt someone take his hand, and he looked up to see Jamie smiling at him.

“I don’t know how it’s possible,” she said, “but the sun…”

He turned his head to the side and saw blackened tracks leading out of the room. To him, the sunlight felt warm, life-affirming.

Robert sat up. The wooden stake that had been lying on his chest clattered to the floor.

“What the…?” he asked.

“It just popped out,” Jamie said. “Mine did too. As if our bodies rejected them.”