NO FEAR FOR OUR FANGED FRIENDS.
DONATING BLOOD IS AN INVESTMENT IN OUR FUTURE.
Blood donations have begun in earnest. It may just be trendy now, and soon they may return to what they were. But for the time being, we’ve become a city-size version of Crimson Sands. We watch each other’s backs so we can live our lives without fear.
As we near the steps of the Agency, a black car comes careening to a stop. Richard jumps out. I see a blur and then Faith is in his arms.
Ian is a little slower getting out. I greet him with a quick hug. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
“Me too. I have to return for the Night Train, but there won’t be anyone to fight me about it.”
Victor shakes his hand. “We want to hear everything, but the sun’s coming up. We should get inside.”
Sitting in the Agency apartment, we listen as Richard and Ian pretty much tell us the same thing that Faith did.
“The other Old Family vamps headed toward their own territories to begin preparing for Sin,” Richard says.
“I wish they’d stopped by here first,” I say. “I think they would find it useful to see how Denver’s citizens and vampires are working together.”
“Faith told me some of what is going on. Incredible.”
“But can it last?” Ian asks.
“It’s going to have to,” Victor says, “if we have any hope at all for a better world.”
My cell phone rings. It’s Clive. “What’s up?”
“I think Sin is sending us a message. You need to see it.”
Chapter 26
The messenger isn’t in a carriage made of white, nor does he come in the dark of the moon. He’s a vampire, lit aflame in the high sun, walking slowly toward the city.
“What the hell is that?” the guard asks.
Along with Clive and Michael, I’m standing on one of the watchtowers. Beside me is the guard who first spotted the slowly moving object, just a black silhouette with fires licking across his body, taking bits of ash into the air, where it’s whisked away. I borrow the guard’s binoculars and look.
It’s a vampire, no doubt. Humans tend to stay in one piece when exposed to the sun, and if lit on fire, well, they die pretty quickly. But this poor soul is trekking across the wasteland, his body fuel for the inescapable flames. He’s stopped trying to get rid of them but instead marches on with an unmatched will to . . . to what? To reach us?
“He’s Old Family,” I say.
“Are you sure?”
“No one else could survive that. Even the strongest of Lessers collapse within an hour or so.”
“It looks as though he’s been walking for several hours,” the guard says.
“I’m sure he has.”
“Go pick him up,” Clive commands the guard.
“But sir—”
“If he has something important to say, I don’t want him dead by the time he reaches these walls. Take Michael with you.”
An hour later, I’m in Clive’s office. The shutters are drawn tight, and Victor stands in the corner, arms crossed. All is quiet until a scream pierces the area outside the room. We don’t have much time to react when the door is kicked open. Michael and Jeff are holding a smoldering vampire, a wool blanket wrapped around him to make his body able to be handled, but his face is black and charred, pieces of him flaking to the ground like a log left in the fire too long. I have to look away for a moment to brace myself before returning his pained stare.
And his screams keep coming.
“Calm down,” Jeff says.
But his shrieks echo around us.
“What do we do, Victor?” Michael asks. “Blood?”
“No,” Victor says. “It won’t help him at this stage. He won’t even be able to get it down his throat.”
“Kill me!” the thing shouts as he’s lain on Clive’s desk.
“Who are you?” Victor asks, moving toward the vampire.
“Ah . . . Ahh . . . Byron Asher. Your Grace.”
Only now do I recognize the charred features of the vampire who stood around the great Council table.
“What happened?” I ask.
He looks at me, and while I expect anger, all I see is remorse.
“You were right, Lady Montgomery. Sin . . . he’s insane. I . . . I tried to join him, but it was too late. He’s . . . he’s . . .” Asher makes a horrendous gurgling sound, inhaling the ash that has fallen from his body, breathing in his own flesh and choking on it.
“How many are there?” Victor asks. “How many Day Walkers? How many Chosen?”
“N . . . no . . . none.”
“What?”
“None. Sin. He . . . he killed them all. Those who survived fled. I don’t know where, but somewhere far away.”
I think about Faith’s dream she shared with Richard. The footprints leading outside the city. They went in all directions, a mass exodus of fear.
“Why did he kill them?”
Asher calms himself, pushing the pain out, and I can tell there isn’t much time left for this once great vampire. I move forward to thank him. “You were very brave, Lord Asher, to come tell us.”
Victor shoots me an approving look before turning back to Asher. “This was in Los Angeles?”
He shakes his head. “I met him in the mountains. He had a few followers with him. But then . . . the Thirst.” Asher’s voice grows steady as though he is determined to give us this vital information. “Sin’s wish has come true. He’s become Infected. He’s . . . oh, Lord Valentine, you’ve never seen a monster like this. His need for vampire blood is inescapable. It’s never ending. He . . . he drank from those around him . . . without any regard to his master plan. He no longer cares. The Thirst . . . it’s . . . it’s taken over his mind, his entire being.”
“My God, Asher, you saw this?”
“Yes, my lord.” Asher grabs Victor by the collar and pulls him close. “He’ll never stop. He’ll never be satisfied. He’ll drink forever and ever until no one is left. He can do it, Victor. He . . . he can’t be stopped.”
“Where is he?”
“He . . . he wants to kill you most of all, Victor. He says that . . . ‘It must end where it began.’ Those were his final words before the Thirst tore his mind apart once again, and he slaughtered three vampires, feeding on every ounce of their . . . of their blood. His own kind. How could he . . . How could . . . How could any of us . . .”
His final words may have been spoken, but only in his mind. They never escape his lips. The fires of the sun have caused too much damage. Asher’s heart stops.
I watch Victor throw several more stakes into his leather duffel.
“Are you sure he’ll be there?” I ask.
“I’m sure. It’s the only place that makes sense.”
An hour ago, Victor showed me on a map where he thought Sin would be, where he thought “it all began.” On the folded paper, marked with roads and cities, it was just a forest. Nothing more. But for Victor, it’s home. The old Valentine Manor, erected before vampires were ever known to exist. It’s where he spent his early years; it’s where Sin grew up under the oppressive weight of an abusive father.
“I’ll need three stakes,” I say. “So make sure you have enough for me. One of them has to be small, though, so I can strap it inside my boot.” Victor stops. “And make sure they’re razor sharp and steel. None of this wood
