The Night Eternal

slow, allowing the visitor to disembark. Instead, Barnes’s bodyguards each gripped one of his arms and walked him down the front steps and out over the stones toward the waiting chopper. They ducked beneath the screaming rotors and opened the door.

The passenger, sitting with twin seat belts crossed over his chest, was young Zachary Goodweather.

Barnes’s bodyguards boosted him inside, as though he might try to escape. He sat in the chair next to Zack, while they took facing seats. Barnes strapped on his safety restraints; his bodyguards did not.

“Hello again,” said Barnes.

The boy looked at him but did not answer. More youthful arrogance—and maybe something more.

“What’s this about?” asked Barnes. “Where are we going?”

The boy, it seemed to Barnes, had picked up on his fear. Zack looked away with a mixture of dismissal and disgust.

“The Master needs me,” said Zack, looking out the window as the chopper started to rise. “I don’t know why you’re here.”

Interstate 80

THEY DROVE ALONG Interstate 80, west through New Jersey. Fet drove with his foot to the floor, high beams all the way. Occasional debris, or an abandoned car or bus, slowed him down. A few times they passed some skinny deer. But no vampires, not on the interstate—at least, none they could see. Eph sat in the backseat of the Jeep, next to Mr. Quinlan, who was attuned to the vampires’ mental frequency. The Born was like a vampire radar detector: so long as he remained silent, they were okay.

Gus and Nora followed in the Explorer, a backup vehicle in case one of them broke down, which was a real possibility.

The highways were nearly clear. People had tried to evacuate once the plague reached true panic stages (the default human response to an infectious disease outbreak—escape—despite there being no virus-free zone to escape to), and highways jammed all across the country. However, few had been turned in their cars, at least not on the highway itself. Most were taken when they pulled off the main routes, usually to sleep.

“Scranton,” said Fet, passing a sign for Interstate 81 North. “I didn’t think it would be this easy.”

“Long way to go,” said Eph, looking out the window at the darkness rushing past. “How’s our fuel?”

“Okay for now. I don’t want to stop anywhere near a city.”

“No way,” agreed Eph.

“I’d like to get over the border into New York State first.”

Eph looked out at Scranton as they navigated the increasingly cluttered overpasses to the north. He noticed a section of one block burning in the distance and wondered if there were other rebels such as themselves, smaller-scale fighters in smaller urban centers. Occasional electric lights shining in windows drew his eye and made him wonder at all the desperation going on there in Scranton and in similar small cities all across the country and the world. He wondered also where the nearest blood camp was.

“There must be a list of Stoneheart Corporation meatpacking plants somewhere, a master list that would clue us in to the blood camp locations,” said Eph. “Once we get this done, there’s going to be a lot of liberating to do.”

“And how,” said Fet. “If it’s like it was with the other Ancients, then the Master’s clan will die out with him. Vanish. People in the camps won’t know what hit them.”

“Trick will be getting the word out. Without mass media, I mean. We’ll have all these little duchies and fiefdoms popping up across the country. People trying to take control. I’m not so sure democracy will automatically bloom.”

“No,” said Fet. “It’s going to be tricky. Lots of work. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Eph looked at Mr. Quinlan sitting next to him. He noticed the leather sack between his boots. “Do you die with all the others when the Master is destroyed?”

When the Master is obliterated, his bloodline is no more.

Eph nodded, feeling the heat of the half-breed’s supercharged metabolism. “Nothing in your nature prevents you from working toward something that will ultimately result in your own demise?”

You’ve never worked toward something that went against your own self-interest?

Eph said, “No, I don’t think I have. Nothing that could kill me, that’s for sure.”

There is a greater good at stake. And vengeance is a uniquely compelling motivation. Revenge trumps self-preservation.

“What is it you’re carrying in that leather pack?”

I am sure you already know.

Eph remembered the Ancients’ chamber beneath Central Park, their ashes set inside receptacles of white oak. “Why are you bringing along the Ancients’ remains?”

You did not see that in the Lumen?

Eph had not. “Are you… intending on bringing them back? Resurrecting them somehow?”

No. What is done cannot be undone.

“Why, then?”

Because it is foretold.

Eph puzzled over that one. “Is something going to happen?”

Are you not concerned about the ramifications of success? You said yourself that you are uncertain democracy will spontaneously bloom. Humans have never truly had self-rule. It has been that way for centuries. Do you think you will be able to manage on your own?

Eph had no answer for him. He knew that the Born was right. The Ancients had been pulling strings since near the beginning of human history. What would the world look like without their intervention?

Eph watched out his window as the distant blaze, which was substantial, faded from view. How to put it all back together again? Recovery seemed like an impossibly daunting task. The world was already irretrievably broken. For a moment he even wondered if it was worth it.

Of course, that was just fatigue talking. But what had once seemed like the end of their troubles—destroying the Master and retaking stewardship of the planet—would in reality be the beginning of a brand-new struggle.

Zachary and the Master

ARE YOU LOYAL? asked the Master. Are you thankful for all I have provided, for all that I have shown you?

“I am,” answered Zachary Goodweather with not a moment’s doubt. The spiderlike shape of Kelly Goodweather watched her son, perched on a ledge nearby.

The end of times is near. Where we define together this new earth. All that you knew—all of those that were close to you—will be gone. Are you to be faithful to me?

“I will be,” answered Zack.

I have been betrayed many times in the past. You should know that I am thus familiar with the mechanics of such plotting. Part of my will resides in you. You can hear my voice with distinct clarity, and in return, I am privy to your innermost thoughts.

The Master got up and examined the boy. There was no doubt detectable in him. He was in awe of the Master, and the gratitude he expressed was genuine.

I was betrayed once by those who should have been the closest to me. Those that I shared my very essence with—the Ancients. They had no pride in them—no real hunger. They were content living their lives in the shade. They blamed me for our condition and took shelter in the refuse of mankind. They thought themselves powerful, but they were quite weak. They sought alliance. I seek domination. You understand that, don’t you?