The Fall. Book II of The Strain Trilogy

“That is something I have been wondering about myself.”

“Do we know, are they with him in this? I assume they are.”

“On the contrary,” said Setrakian. “Against him, wholeheartedly. Of that I am certain.”

“And their creation? These beings came about at the same time, or in the same manner?”

“I can’t imagine some other answer, yes.”

Nora asked, “What does the lore say about the first vampires?”

“Very little, in fact. Some have tried to tie it to Judas, or the story of Lilith, but that is popular revisionist fiction. However… there is one book. One source.”

Eph looked around. “Point me to the box. I’ll get it.”

“This is a book I do not yet possess. One book I have spent a fair portion of my life trying to acquire.”

“Let me guess,” said Eph. “The Vampire Hunter’s Guide to Saving the World.”

“Close. It is called the Occido Lumen. Strictly translated, it means I Kill the Light, or, by extension, The Fallen Light.” Setrakian produced the auction catalog from Sotheby’s, opening it to a folded page.

The book was listed, although in the area where a picture should have run was a graphic reading NO IMAGE AVAILABLE.

“What is it about?” asked Eph.

“It is hard to explain. And even harder to accept. During my tenure in Vienna, I became, by necessity, fluent with many occult systems: Tarot, Qabbalah, Enochian Magick… everything and anything that helped me understand the fundamental questions I faced. They were all difficult subjects to fit in a curriculum but, for reasons I shall not divulge now, the university found abundant patronage for my research. It was during those years that I first heard of the Lumen. A bookseller from Leipzig came to me with a set of black-and-white photographs. Grainy stills of a few of the book’s pages. His demands were outrageous. I had acquired quite a few grimoires from this seller — and for some of them he had commanded a handsome sum — but this… this was ridiculous. I did my research and found that, even among scholars, the book was considered a myth, a scam, a hoax. The literary equivalent of an urban legend. The volume was said to contain the exact nature and origin of all strigoi but, more important, it names all of the Seven Original Ancients… Three weeks later I traveled to the man’s bookshop — a modest store in Nalewski Street. It was closed. I never heard from him again.”

Nora said, “The seven names — they would include Sardou’s?”

“Precisely,” said Setrakian. “And to learn his name — his true name — would give us a hold on him.”

“You’re telling me that all we are looking for is the most expensive White Pages in the world?” said Eph.

Setrakian smiled gently and handed over the catalog to Eph. “I understand your skepticism. I do. To a modern man, a man of science — even one who has seen all that you have — ancient knowledge seems archaic. Creaky. A curiosity. But know this. Names do hold the essence of the thing. And, yes — even names listed in a directory. Names, letters, numbers, when known in depth, possess enormous power. Everything in our universe is ciphered and to know the cipher is to know the thing — and to know the thing is to command it. I once met a man, a very wise man, who could cause instant death by enunciating a six-syllable word. One word, Eph — but very few men know it. Now, imagine what that book contains…”

Nora read the catalog over Eph’s shoulder. “And it’s coming up for auction in two days?”

Setrakian said, “Something of an incredible coincidence, don’t you think?”

Eph looked at him. “I doubt it.”

“Correct. I believe this is all part of a puzzle. This book has a very dark and complicated provenance. When I tell you it is believed to be cursed, I don’t mean that someone fell sick once after reading it. I mean that terrible occurrences surround its very appearance whenever it surfaces. Two auction houses that listed it previously burned to the ground before the bidding began. A third withdrew the item and closed its doors permanently. The item is now valued at between fifteen and twenty-five million dollars.”

“Fifteen and twenty-five…” said Nora, puffing her cheeks. “This is a book we’re talking about?”

“Not just any book.” Setrakian took back the catalog. “We must acquire it. There is no other alternative.”

Nora said, “Do they take personal checks?”

“That is the problem. At this price, there is very little chance we may procure it by legitimate means.”

Eph darkened. “That’s Eldritch Palmer money,” he said.

“Precisely,” said Setrakian, nodding ever so slightly. “And through him, Sardu — the Master.”

Fet’s Blog

Back again. still trying to sort this thing out.

See, I think people’s problem is, they’re paralyzed by disbelief.

A vamp is some guy in a satin cape. Slicked-back hair, white makeup, funny accent. Two holes in the neck, and he turns into a bat, flies away.

I’ve seen that movie, right? Whatever.

Okay. Now look up Sacculina.

What the hell, you’re already on the Internet anyway.

Go ahead. I did.

You back already? Good.

Now you know that Sacculina is a genus of parasitic barnacles that attack crabs.

And who cares, right? Why am I wasting your time?

What the female Sacculina does after her larva molts is she injects herself into the crab’s body through a vulnerable joint in its armor. She gets in there and begins sprouting these root-like appendages that spread all throughout the crab’s body, even around its eyestalks.

Now, once the crab’s body is enslaved, the female then emerges as a sac. The male Sacculina joins her now, and guess what? Mating time.

Eggs incubate and mature inside the hostage crab, which is forced to devote all its energy to caring for this family of parasites that controls it.

The crab is a host. A drone. Utterly possessed by this different species, and compelled to care for the invader’s eggs as if they were its own.

Who cares, right? Barnacles and crabs?

My point is: there are plenty of examples of this in nature.

Creatures invading bodies of species completely unlike their own and changing their essential function.

It’s proven. It’s known.

And yet we believe we’re above all this. We’re humans, right? Top of the food chain. We eat, we don’t get eaten. We take, not get taken.

It’s said that Copernicus (I can’t be the only one who thought it was Galileo) took Earth out of the center of the universe.

And Darwin took humans out of the center of the living world.

So why do we still insist on believing we are somehow something more than animals?

Look at us. Essentially a collection of cells coordinated by chemical signals.

What if some invading organism seized control of these signals? Started to take us over, one by one. Rewriting our very nature, converting us to their own means?

Impossible, you say?

Why? You think the human race is “too big to fail”?

Okay. Now stop reading this. Stop cruising the Internet for answers and go out and grab yourself some silver and rise up against these things — before it is too late.

The Black Forest Solutions Facility

Gabriel Bolivar, the only remaining member of the original four “survivors” of Regis Air Flight 753, waited in a dirt-walled hollow deep beneath the drainage floor of Slaughterhouse #3, two stories below the Black Forest Solutions meatpacking facility.