The Darkening Dream (39 page)

Kill the Greek, kill the Greek now
. He required proof of her devotion.

She turned back to the room. The traitor struggled underneath Sam. If she found something sharp she could jab him in the kidney. The desk, Sam must have a pen or a knife there.

But the desk was swathed in unpleasant light. She pushed herself closer but felt like she was swimming against the current. The source of her difficulty hung on the wall: Sam’s cross.

Why would a cross bother her?

Behind her, she heard the Greek cry out. “It’s the vampire. Don’t listen to his voice!”

Now conflicting desires swirled in her head. Jealous little boy, one said. Alex could never be the man that
he
is. But another, rebellious part of her grasped the silver
mezuzah
beneath her blouse.

“The Lord is my light and my help; whom should I fear?” she cried in Hebrew. Cool white light shone through the heavy wool and the flesh of her hand. The sinister voice was quelled.

“The Lord is the stronghold of my life, whom should I dread?” Oh my God, what had she done? What would she have done?

The room reeked of a thousand rats dead behind the walls.

She tugged the
mezuzah
out from her blouse and raised it as high as the chain would allow.

“When evil men assail me — to devour my flesh — it is they, my foes and my enemies, who stumble and fall. Should an army besiege me, my heart would have no fear; should war beset me, still would I be calm.”

White light bathed the room, burning off the foul miasma. She stumbled, dropped the
mezuzah,
let it bounce against her chest. The sour taste of bile rose in her throat.

Sam sat astride Alex but had stopped hitting. He looked bewildered as he slid off.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I don’t know what happened.”

As terrible as the whole business had been, Sarah felt elated. She’d done it, used Papa’s techniques to cast out the undead. Her prayer had worked!

“The vampire was pushing his thoughts into our heads,” she said, “but I shut him out.”

“How?” Anne asked. “He made me open the curtains, didn’t he? I wanted to kill you to open them first.”

“I protected the room from magical influences,” Sarah said, “so I don’t think he can do that again.”

Alex sat up and wiped the blood from his mouth. Nothing looked broken, but Sam had added to his collection of bruises.

“One of the spells your father taught you?” he said.

Their eyes met. She hid her face in her arms. Two minutes ago she’d been searching for a letter opener to jab between his ribs.

Anne screamed.

From the top of the window, an arm waved, then dropped and fell past the glass. No body attached.

My hand is stretched out to you
, the silky voice said.
Open the window and invite me in.

No one moved.

A face appeared where the arm had been. Upside down, the grinning rows of teeth looked as if they were frowning. He tapped at the glass.
Open the window and invite me in.

The face disappeared, and now a blue-clad leg dangled in the window like a butcher shop display. Severed at mid-thigh, the stump showed a ragged bit of bone. The foot still wore a black leather shoe.

My hand is in your belt.
Invite me in, please.

The vampire dropped the leg. It fell out of sight, but he pressed something against the panes with his other hand: the severed head of the older police officer. The man’s pupils had rolled out of sight, and blood stained his silver mustache.

Sarah stared in mute horror. The vampire’s own face was a grotesque exaggeration of the one she’d seen last week from her door. Only the coal black eyes were the same.

No invitation, ladies and gentlemen
? The vampire’s mouth didn’t move. He held the head by the hair, thumped it against the thin glass, then sniffed, his delicate white nostrils flaring.

You stay my will with infidel magics, but they will not protect you from the consequences of your sacrilege.
The creature turned the head upside down and extended his tongue. He licked the bloody stump like a child might enjoy an ice cream.

Isabella’s words came back to her:
My first killer and yours
.

The vampire tossed aside the head and leapt into the night.

In the wake of the vampire’s display, Sarah reeled physically and mentally. After the destruction of Charles and even after the debacle with the bugamoors, she’d felt a mounting sense of confidence and power. But now, between Emily’s curse, her dark dreams, and the might of the vampire, she felt dizzy, swept along toward a fast and bitter end.

“Shall we count the ways in which the apocalypse is upon us?” Anne said. “First, Emily’s going to die a horrible wasting death. Second, the police are going to come looking for their missing officers and may well arrest, convict, and hang us all. Third, neither of the first two will matter, because if we leave our houses at night for any reason that
thing
will tear us apart and use our bones for toothpicks.”

“Emily!” Sam was out the door before Sarah could blink, Alex on his heels.

Sarah looked at Anne, grabbed her hand, and together they raced after the boys to the sisters’ small bedroom. Sarah pushed past the others — she hadn’t seen Emily since the failed attempt to break the curse.

She looked even worse. Her skin was pasty white, her body alarmingly thin, her cheeks hollow. Formerly shiny blond hair lay flat and waxen, and her open eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling. The tip of her tongue poked from her cracked lips.

Alex reached down to feel her pulse. “The vampire must have gotten to her somehow, drained her blood.” He shook her gently. “Emily, wake up.”

“It won’t do you any good,” Anne said. “After the night at your place she won’t even eat. We have to spoon soup down her throat.”

“Oh,” Alex said. “Sorry.”

Anne was right — Sarah could see that Emily wasn’t going to last much longer, a couple of days at most. The pastor was sucking the life right out of her. She looked just like Judah had at the end, her—

There was a ruckus outside in the yard. It sounded like a dog had caught a bird — a big bird. Sarah darted to the window. The others crowded behind her. No sign of the vampire, but the streetlight’s yellow glow revealed his handiwork. Coiled intestines draped from trees, gruesome decorations hung in advance of the holidays.

“Everything we do just makes things worse,” Anne shook her head back and forth like a horse trying to escape the bridle. “If we hadn’t killed Charles, hadn’t gone to the vampire’s house—”

“Emily would still be cursed, and Charles could have murdered dozens.” Sam sat down on the edge of the bed. “We had no choice. This thing can be slain. We killed its men, we killed its baby vampire, and it can’t come into the house or go out by day. It has weaknesses, limits.”

“The vampire can clearly use that weird voice to control people,” Sarah said. “But I prayed to God to protect us, and it worked. Sam’s right, he can be beaten.”
Only you can stop us
.

She’d always believed in God, but tonight He’d listened to her prayer — really listened. A curious elation still streaked her somber mood.

Anne said, “That voice… I wasn’t just angry with Alex, I hated him. I didn’t even stop to question why. When he asked us to open the drapes, I couldn’t help myself.”

Sam nodded. “I was a little mad before, but the voice made me so furious I think I really could have killed Alex. When you yelled whatever you yelled, Sarah, the anger just went away.”

“What he did is called a glamour,” Alex said. “My grandfather warned me about it. Not all vampires can do it, and it takes them years to learn how, but it’s a way to control people’s thoughts. I didn’t feel it, though — I heard the words in my mind, but that was it. Same thing when he tried it on me outside.”

“Why not?” Anne said. “The rest of us were controlled, why not you?”

“I think it’s this.” Alex unbuttoned his shirt and fished out a silver amulet on a leather strap. “My grandfather gave it to me, told me it would protect me against
them
.” He nodded at the window.

Sarah took a look. The medallion was shaped like the head of a wolf, its eyes made from tiny rubies. A cold shiver ran down her spine.
Trust the wolf.

“What makes you think it was the necklace?” she asked Alex.

“Whenever the vampire used that insinuating voice,” he said, “the amulet grew warm and burned my chest.”

The silver wolf face gleamed. Where had old Mr. Palaogos gotten the thing? If he was the wolf, the vampire was the bat, and Khepri was the beetle, who was the ram?
The ram looms behind them all
.

“Can I touch it?” Sarah said.

“You can touch anything you want.”

Sarah glared at him but placed a finger on the wolf. The silver was warm to the touch. She thought about it snuggled against his chest.

“What did your grandfather say exactly?”

Alex looked past her for a moment. Since the medallion was around his neck, she’d been forced to step in close. She could smell his sweat. It reminded her of the kissing.

“If I remember correctly, he said it would protect or hide me from vampires or their minions.”

“Alex,” Sam said, “remember in the basement with the bugamoor? I noticed something strange — the big guy knocked my gun away before I even saw him coming. But you came up behind him carrying the holy water, and he never noticed.”

“The medallion must have hidden me,” Alex said.

Sam leaned back on the foot of the bed. “But the vampire certainly saw you today. He came after you, cut you—”

“The vampire’s much more powerful than the Moors,” Sarah said. “Maybe the medallion has less effect on him. Alex, did your grandfather say where he got the necklace? Are there more?”

“I can ask, provided the vampire doesn’t come back and finish us off—”

“That’s our lot now,” Anne said. “Sheep waiting to become lamb chops.”

“That’s it.” Sam stood up. “We have to stop letting him control the situation. The guy’s ancient, I’m sure he’s killed hundreds of people—”

“Thousands,” Sarah said. “A century has thirty-six thousand nights in it. If he kills someone even every couple of nights, just think how many it must be if he’s really old.”

“And we know he’s relentless,” Sam said, “so one thing we can count on is that he’ll attack again. We need to be ready.”

“What about Pastor Parris?” Anne said, “We have to get that doll or make him break his curse.”

Time to tell them.

“I know exactly where the vampire and the pastor are going to strike,” Sarah said.

All eyes turned to her.

“At my house.”

“Because of the thing your father brought back from Vienna?” Alex asked.

“What thing?” Anne said.

“The Archangel Gabriel’s Horn.” There, she’d said it.

“This isn’t the time for joking,” Sam said.

Sarah kicked at his foot. “I’m not. God told my father to keep it safe, and he did — it’s gone. But the vampire won’t take our word for it.” Sarah slumped onto Anne’s bed, across from Emily. If she hadn’t been so exhausted she might have cried.

“She isn’t making this up,” Alex said.

She could have hugged him.

“It fits with what my grandfather says. That the Caliph was sent here to find something incredibly important.”

“Sent by whom, the devil?” Sam said.

Alex shrugged. “Ultimately, perhaps so. I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter who sent him,” Sarah said. “We can’t let them win. My father will know what to do.”

Anne put her head back into her hands. “What about
our
parents?” she said. “Who’s going to protect them?”

“We can tell them to stay inside at night,” Alex said. “But we aren’t going to be able to walk that line for long. All the more reason to act fast.”

“I hate to say it,” Sarah said, looking at Emily, “but she doesn’t have much time.”

Forty-Six:

Lone Wolf

Salem, Massachusetts, Tuesday night, November 18, 1913