New Blood Page 3

  “Edgar George,” I whispered to myself, alone in this park now. I said it again, letting the sound of his name fall from my lips, adjusting to the sound of it. He sounded like some uptight history professor with corduroys and a bow tie. It was a ridiculous name, one that sounded like nothing I’d heard before, but somehow, was strangely familiar. I’d probably heard it in folklore, I accepted, sheathing my sword and heading back the way I came.

  Tomorrow, I would put a face to the name.

  Chapter Six

  It had been a long night of the weirdest dreams; dreams of vampires burning like firewood, dreams of Keira Poe leading me into the light. Hell, I even had a brief nightmare of Lena, setting her wolves on me while I ran through the sewage plant like a terrified rabbit at a dog track. I don’t think I’d ever run so fast. I’d run until I felt like the fires of hell had risen just to lick at my lungs.

  Awaking in a cold sweat in the Vault’s chambers, I washed and threw on some clean clothes, then got out of there before Dalton could stop me to ask any questions. As much as I wanted to indulge – to feel like I at least had one friend in this pitiful existence – I had other plans for the day. Plans that might lead to ending the war.

  Two buses and a cab later, I found myself standing on the sidewalk of a particularly quiet neighborhood, staring up at Edgar George’s building and wondering just what he was up to in there. I’d heard rumors that head vampires didn’t tend to sleep at all, so it could be that he was running his business or eating his breakfast or doing some normal, everyday activity. The brief image of fangs meeting the neck of a human entered my mind for only an instant, but I shook it off quickly and returned my gaze to street level.

  The club was closed, as had been expected, but I couldn’t help noticing a delivery van poking its nose out from the alley alongside the building. I glanced both ways and headed across the street, sneaking inside the van where it stank of damp. I ducked behind a stack of beer crates and concealed myself until the driver returned, climbing into the back of the van and walking my way. I got ready, already hating myself for what I was about to do.

  “What the–”

  It was all the driver could get out before I wrapped my arm around his neck, applying pressure to his carotid until his legs stopped kicking and his hands stopped reaching up toward my face. His body finally went limp, and I lowered him gently to the ground before pulling off his coat and holding it up to the light.

  Gerpie’s Light, it read across the back. I’d tasted the beer before – it was basically just watered-down piss. Worthless. Nonetheless, I pulled the coat over my own, grabbed a crate of beer and stepped out of the van, checking for any witnesses before I entered the building.

  I got a horrible sense of dread as I went inside. I was on my own in a vampire den, and vampires hated Cardkeepers at the best of times. I trod with caution as I explored the place, finding the door that led down into the drinks cellar, and called down the stairs. When no reply came, I set down the crate, slipped off the coat and ventured deeper into the building.

  The next set of stairs only went up. I passed a great number of open doors, some showing rooms that had wide windows overlooking the club, while others had only large beds – for vampire orgies, I figured. God knew that vampires loved sex. The only thing they loved more than kissing someone’s neck was biting it. I wouldn’t be heading into the sack with one of them anytime soon. Not if I could help it.

  The rest of the rooms turned up nothing. I did happen upon one locked door; it was heavy and oaken and perfectly varnished with painted gold patterns surrounding a sign that said: MANAGER. If Edgar George was inside this building, I suspected it would be on the other side of this door, and although I wanted to burst inside and catch him unaware, I had to play it safe. He was clearly a man of business, after all, and I was on his turf. It was unlikely that he would want to strike any kind of deal after catching me sneaking into his club.

  Screw this, I thought, spinning on my heel and heading back for the exit. I would have to come back at night, consequences be damned. There was no way I was going to meet the head vampire today, and even if I did, I wouldn’t get what I wanted – I’d already breached his trust by knocking out his delivery driver. There was nothing left to do but escape.

  I made it down the stairs and almost got as far as the door leading onto the alley, when a large figure stepped in my way. His hulking body was dressed in a rich blue suit that was too nice even for my taste. The collar shaped a strong jaw with pale flesh and deep, captivating eyes. Above that, he had thick, black hair pulled taut and tied into a ponytail.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked, as if he already knew the answer along with my identity.

  I searched the banks of my brain for some kind of excuse, finding nothing but empty holes. No matter what I said now, I’d landed in deep shit. All I could do was tell the truth, or at least a portion of it. “I’m looking for a man named Edgar George.”

  The man’s eyes met mine, holding a serious, accusing gaze. This time when he spoke, his tone told me everything; how much he knew, what he thought of me, and just how pissed off I’d made him by my mere existance. “You’ve found him,” he finally said. “And moreover, I can smell the magic on you. Now, Cardkeeper, what the fuck are you doing in my club?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Well?”

  The looming figure of this enormous man stood before me, casting a great shadow over my own body and blocking out the light. I could see only a fraction of the open door now, and although my gut told me to make a run for it, I knew a little more about head vampires than your average guy. For starters, they were much, much faster than their lessers. I wasn’t likely to make it three feet before this guy had his jaws around my neck. And then there was the fact that they were very territorial. Their private space was supposed to be just that – private. I had no right to be here and we both knew it.

  My only viable option was the truth.

  “Sneaking was my only way in,” I confessed. “The front door was locked and there was no chance I could have arranged a meeting with you. Not without walking right into a pre-made trap, at least. I had to take out your delivery driver to get in here.”

  Edgar George glanced over his shoulder only briefly before turning back to me. “You mean to tell me you took out Phil?”

  “Well, I… He’s only unconscious.”

  What happened next was the biggest relief of my life – the most assuring thing I’d ever been fortunate enough to witness, especially in the presence of such a dangerous creature.

  Edgar smiled.

  “Next time, knock him around a bit,” he said. “The brother-in-law.”

  I nodded, smiling with him, but doing it so cautiously as if I may have been led into a trap. It would be nothing more than insulting to have knocked out this guy’s extended family, and then stand here grinning about it like an idiot.

  “Come, Keeper. You wanted to talk, so let’s talk.”

  Edgar George led me down the corridor and used a key to open up a set of double doors. The room opened out onto a brightly lit dance floor, which felt surreal with no music to go with it. We walked around the perimeter, up a small set of stairs and arrived at one of the longest bars I’d ever seen in my life. Edgar motioned toward a stool, which I took up while he stalked around the bar, removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

  “Cocktail?” he said.

  I shook my head.

  “Something harder, then?”

  “As long as you don’t poison it.”

  Edgar laughed at that. “Very good. We both know that your body is immune to such chemicals. Besides, poison is a coward’s weapon. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yeah.” I watched the head vampire reach for a glass from somewhere above us, and then snatch a bottle of bourbon from the side. The way he moved was so slick that he didn’t stop for even a moment, spilling the drink into the glass with one fluid motion. When he slid it over to me, I took it and swi
lled it around before taking a sip. “Perfect.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” Edgar leaned into the bar. “So, why are you here?”

  I sipped the bourbon, letting it fall down my throat in one delicious gulp. Wiping my lips with the sleeve of my coat, I set the glass down and slid it back and forth between my fingers, fidgeting nervously. “I want you to revoke your claim over the city.”

  Edgar’s forehead creased up. “How bold of you.”

  “It would seem so.”

  “And what do I get in return for this outrageous request?”

  “Peace.”

  Edgar cocked his head, confused.

  I went on to elaborate. “Lena, the wolves’ alpha, has agreed to stand aside from this battle between the three of us. After much persuasion, I finally have her word that she will back down and no longer participate in this war. All she wants is for you to do the same. A truce, as it were.”

  “And that’s why you’re here? To ask me to surrender?”

  I shook my head. “Not surrender – just agree to stop slaughtering each other.”

  For a moment Edgar only stared at me, his mouth hanging open as he searched my expression for some sort of sign that I was joking. When he found nothing, his head fell back and he erupted into deep, haughty laughter, making me feel like some ignorant moron for even vocalizing the suggestion.

  “Let me get this straight,” he said, pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket to dab the tears from his eyes. “You – a Cardkeeper – have come into the head vampire’s home, asking him to sell his club and give up his crown. And all you have to offer is the promise of a werewolf?”

  “I’m offering you an out.”

  “An out of what?”

  “Of this lifestyle. You don’t have to hide anymore.”

  Edgar chuckled again, swiping the empty glass out from in front of me. “Well, that’s a relief.” He filled the glass again and placed it in my hands, then leaned forward onto his closed fists, staring at the empty dance floor until he sighed. “I do admire your forwardness, Mr…”

  “Hannigan. Jack Hannigan.”

  I took another sip of my drink, taking it slower this time. I figured that if he was trying to poison me then I would be dead already. If what he said about poisons not affecting me was true, then alcohol would do nothing for me either. With that realized, there was no point in me hurrying the beverage – I could simply enjoy the rich taste.

  “Mr. Hannigan…” Edgar repeated softly for his own benefit. “Problem is, the throne isn’t mine to renounce. If you truly wanted the vampires off the streets, you would have to go way, way higher than myself.”

  I frowned. “But you’re the head vampire?”

  “Only in this city, I’m afraid.”

  The truth was, I felt embarrassed. Everything I’d ever been told about the vampire hierarchy was turning out to be a lie. I was almost too scared to ask questions, through fear that I would learn too much. If the vampire myths were false, then what else could be? I felt like I’d stumbled into some alternate universe.

  “I apologize,” I said, feeling tense now, “but if you’re not the man in charge, who is?”

  Edgar craned his neck to study me. “You really don’t know?”

  I shook my head.

  “Christ on a cross.” Sighing again, Edgar stood up straight and walked down the length of the bar, pulling a stool out from underneath. He dragged it back and sat down right in front of me, invading my personal space as he looked deep into my eyes. “The Ancient is the beast you’re looking for, my friend. It is the very first of us, the one who began this curse.”

  “This is a curse? I thought it was in your blood?”

  “Incorrect.” Edgar’s eyes were lost in remembrance. “I’ve been alive a lot longer than you can imagine, but it didn’t happen because I was born this way. Movies, comic books, they all suggest that there are such things as half-breeds, and that only the pure ones can rule. The real truth is that there are only those who are turned.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, captivated by the truth.

  “There are no births. Vampires have no bodily functions; pissing, sneezing and spitting are out of the question. Hell, I can only please a woman – never myself. Do you see what I’m trying to tell you?”

  Of course I did. It was a subtle and slightly shy way of saying that he was unable to finish. Without that, there was no way to reproduce. Rather than embarrass the man who had so generously played host, I settled for a nod.

  “And so it all comes down to The Ancient,” Edgar continued. “How it all happened is still a mystery to this day, but the curse started there. It sunk its fangs into one man, that man went on to bite another, and another, and now here we are. Mr. Hannigan, did you ever wonder why there was a difference between head vampires and your normal, everyday bloodsucker?”

  “Not until now…”

  Edgar smiled thinly. “We head vampires are the only ones to be bitten by The Ancient himself. The others are simply products of a lesser being’s bite. The deeper the line goes on, the weaker the vampire.”

  I thought hard about that, and just how much sense it made. Only one thing was bugging me; if the vampires I’d just killed were weaker than Edgar George, then exactly how strong was The Ancient? I was willing to bet that it was far superior in every way, but that didn’t comfort me any – I still had to persuade the man.

  “If I find The Ancient,” I said, absent-mindedly checking my wristwatch, “and convince it to stand down, will the others have to obey? I mean no disrespect, but what I’m trying to ask is this: if it leads, will you follow?”

  Edgar finally grinned, standing up from his stool and reaching over to pour his own glass. “Oh dear, Mr. Hannigan. You really are new to all this Cardkeeper business, aren’t you?”

  I sat in silence while I watched him down his drink, finishing it in one swift swallow.

  “There is no talking to it. You cannot reason with The Ancient. Don’t you see? I’m trying to tell you that the curse started with it… and so it must also end with it.” Edgar leaned in close again. This time I could smell the liquor on his hot breath. “Slay it, Keeper, and the curse of the vampires will end. We will become mortal, and in time, die of natural causes. Then, and only then, will Lena have her peace.”

  The reality of the situation hit me harder than I ever knew it could. My mission had just changed so suddenly, and with it, so had my endgame. Having originally set out to simply persuade two parties to stop fighting, it now seemed that I had a beast to hunt. If I succeeded, vampires would cease to exist. What a difference that would make.

  I knocked back my drink and stood up straight, smoothing out the kinks in my shirt. “Where do I find this Ancient, then? Please tell me it’s sitting on a bench in broad daylight with an ID badge.”

  “Wouldn’t that be easy?” Edgar shrugged. “Nobody knows where it is. Even if we did, we wouldn’t make any attempts to kill it.”

  “Why not?”

  Edgar snorted. “Nobody would be that stupid.”

  I stared hard at the bar, considering the difficulty of this mission. Somehow, I got the feeling that this would be far more dangerous than I’d previously believed. A head vampire would have been hard to kill, but The Ancient? Pfft, this would take some research.

  “Give me a few days,” I said to Edgar, sliding my empty glass across the bar. “I’ll end this curse of yours, and then you, me and the werewolves can all stop this bullshit war. If I die in the process then so be it, but in the meantime, don’t stand in my way.”

  Edgar grinned, finally showing his fangs. “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Hannigan.”

  “Right. Thanks for the drink,” I said.

  Edgar George nodded and raised a hand. “Good luck.”

  I stared him down, our gazes locked as I exuded false confidence. When I could no longer hold his stare, I shrugged my coat back up my shoulders and felt around in my pocket for the Sword of Lucada. This was going to be tou
gh – real tough – but worth every bit of the sacrifice if I could only pull it off. Still, those words kept floating around my mind, ripping my nerves to shreds. I couldn’t seem to get them out of there.

  “Nobody would be that stupid,” Edgar had said.

  Nobody, I thought, except for me.

  Chapter Eight

  Needless to say, I refrained from donning a robe when I returned to the VHS store. I’d never quite seen the point in wearing one – I was Chicago’s new guardian no matter what I wore, but now that I knew just how much it frustrated Dalton, I kind of enjoyed grinding his gears. There wasn’t much fun to be had in this business, so a rare moment of mirth came via yanking an old man’s chain.

  I made my way up the dirt path between the mountains with my coat trailing out behind me like a kite. The wind howled at my face and the light speckles of rain merged with my hair, reducing me to a fuzzy mess that only a mother could love. As I passed through the front door of the Vault, however, my clothes aired out and my hair dried immediately. It was as though I’d stepped inside a vacuum chamber, all of the mountain’s elements being sucked from my body as if by magic. Then again, it was magic.

  “Huh. That’s new,” I said to myself as I strode up the stairs and into the Grand Hall. Dalton waited for me there, and as per usual, he stared into the flaming and hypnotic embers, his head bowed and his hood up. I sped toward him.

  “Sir Jack,” Dalton said without moving. “I see you’re still alive.”

  “And kicking. For now, anyway.”

  Dalton glanced over at me, reading me like a small book with few words and a lot of strange pictures. It was as if he had no idea what I was talking about, and when he finally returned to the fires, he had probably given up on trying to understand Earth’s sayings.

  “Still no robe,” he said.

  I did everything I could to hide my grin. “No, no robe.”