The Night Eternal

It squatted there, gripping the smooth edge of the sink, its knees up around its head, looking at him. Eph finally got a clear glance at it in the green light of his scope. It was a boy. A ten- or twelve-year-old of African- American descent, with what looked like pure glass in his eyes.

A blind boy. One of the feelers.

The feeler’s top lip was curled such that, by night vision, it looked like an appraising smile. His fingers and toes gripped the front edge of the sink counter as though he were about to pounce. Eph kept the tip of his sword pointed at the feeler’s midsection.

“Were you sent to find me?” Eph said.

Yes.

Eph sagged a bit in dismay. Not at the response, but at the voice.

It was Kelly’s. Speaking the Master’s words.

Eph wondered if Kelly was somehow responsible for the feelers. If she was their wrangler, so to speak. Their dispatcher. And if so, if indeed these blind, psychic vampire children had been placed under her unofficial command, how fitting and sadly ironic at the same time. Kelly Goodweather was still a mother hen, even in death.

“What made it so easy this time?”

You wanted to be found.

The feeler pounced, but not at Eph. The boy sprang from the countertop across the restroom to the wall, then dropped down to the tile floor on all fours.

Eph tracked it with his sword tip. The feeler crouched there, looking at him.

Are you going to slay me, Ephraim?

Kelly’s taunting voice. Had it been her idea to send a boy Zack’s age?

“Why do you torment me like this?”

I could have a hundred thirsty vampires there in moments, surrounding you. Tell me why I should not send them to you now.

“Because the book is not here. And—more important—if you broke our deal, I would slice my own throat before letting you have access to my mind.”

You are bluffing.

Eph lunged at the boy. He skittered backward, bumping into a stall door and stopping inside. “How do you like it?” said Eph. “These threats don’t instill much faith in me that you will keep your end of the bargain.”

Pray that I do.

“Interesting choice of words, ‘pray.’ ” Eph stood in the doorway to the stall now; the corner of the bathroom reeked from neglect. “Ozryel. Yes, I’ve been reading the book you want so badly. And talking to Mr. Quinlan, the Born.”

Then you should know that I am not in fact Ozryel.

“No, you are the worms that crawled out of the murderous angel’s veins. After God had him pulled apart like someone quartering a chicken.”

We share the same rebellious nature. A lot like your son, I imagine.

Eph shook that off, determined not to be an easy mark for the Master’s abuse any longer. “My son is nothing like you.”

Don’t be so sure. Where is the book?

“It was hidden in the stacks deep beneath the New York Public Library this entire time, in case you were wondering. I am supposed to be buying a little time for them now.”

I presume the Born is studying it avidly.

“Correct. That doesn’t worry you?”

To the eyes of the unworthy, it would take years to decipher.

“Good. So you’re not in any rush. Maybe I should step back, then. Wait for a better offer from you.”

And maybe I should draw and quarter your son.

Eph wanted to run his sword through this undead child’s throat. Leave the Master wanting for a while longer. But at the same time he did not want to push the creature too far. Not with Zack’s life on the line. “You’re the one bluffing now. You are worried and are pretending not to be. You want this book and you want it very badly. Why so soon?”

It did not answer.

“There is no other traitor. You are all lies.”

The feeler remained crouched, its back against the wall.

“Fine,” said Eph. “Play it that way.”

My father is dead.

Eph’s heart skipped a beat, stopping dead in his chest for a long moment. Such was the shock of hearing, as clear as though he were there in the room with him, his son Zack’s voice.

He was shaking. He fought hard to keep a furious scream from rising in his throat.

“You goddamned…”

The Master returned to Kelly’s voice. You will bring the book as soon as you can.

Eph’s first fear was that Zack had been turned. But no; the Master was just throwing Zack’s voice, pushing it to Eph through this feeler.

Eph said, “Goddamn you.”

God tried to. And where is He now?

“Not here,” said Eph, his blade lowering a bit. “Not here.”

No. Not in a department store men’s room in a deserted Macy’s. Why don’t you release this poor child, Ephraim? Look into its blind eyes. Wouldn’t striking it down give you great satisfaction?

He did look into its eyes. Glassy and unblinking. Eph saw the vampire… but also the boy he once was.

I have thousands of sons. All of them absolutely loyal.

“You have only one true offspring. The Born. And all he wants is to destroy you.”

The feeler dropped to its knees, raising its chin, baring its neck to Eph, its arms hanging limp at its sides.

Take him, Ephraim, and be done with it.

The feeler’s blind eyes stared into nothingness, in the manner of a supplicant awaiting orders from its lord. The Master wanted him to execute the child. Why?

Eph pointed the tip of his sword at the boy’s exposed neck. “Here,” he said. “Run him into my sword if you wish him released.”

You have no desire to slay him?

“I have every desire to slay him. But no good reason to.”

When the boy did not move, Eph stepped back, pulling away his sword. Something wasn’t right here.

You cannot slay the boy. You hide behind weakness by calling it strength.

Eph said, “Weakness is giving in to temptation. Strength is resisting it.” He looked at the feeler, Kelly’s voice still hanging in his head. The feeler had no link to Eph, not without Kelly. And her voice was being projected by the Master, in an attempt to distract and weaken him, but the vampire Kelly could be anywhere at that moment. Anywhere.

Eph backed out of the stall and started running, rushing up the escalator to where he had left Nora.

Kelly stayed close to the wall, padding barefoot past the racks of clothes. The woman’s scent lingered in the back room behind the shoe display… but her bloodbeat thrummed across the display floor. Kelly approached the changing-room doorway. Nora Martinez waited there with a silver sword.

“Hey, bitch,” Nora greeted her.

Kelly seethed, her mind going out to the feelers, calling them close. She had no clear angle of attack. The silver weapon glowed hot in her view as the bald female human started toward her.

“You really let yourself go,” said Nora, circling around a register. “Cosmetics is on the first floor, by the way. And maybe a turtleneck to cover up that nasty turkey neck.”

The girl feeler came bounding from the stairs, stopping near Kelly.

“Mother-daughter shopping day,” said Nora. “How sweet. I’ve got some silver jewelry I’d love to see you two try on.”