Vampire$

And then he thought, Could I do this if I had to?

Can I stand here now while Jack does it?

Then the time was there and Jack Crow reached out and fitted the cutting stone in place and then he grabbed up the mallet and held it high and muttered something Felix couldn’t hear and then the mallet came down and there was an awful “snick” noise and the fabric around the throat separated cleanly and then heavy fluid began to stain the edges.

Jack didn’t pause to tamp the flow with the towel there at his other hand. Instead he grasped the stake, placed it over the heart of one of his dearest comrades, and drove it mightily home with one solid rap.

There were more prayers but Felix didn’t hear them. He didn’t hear anything but the pounding of his own heart and wondered if that was fear or hatred of the beasts that made this necessary.

After a while, Felix realized he was the only one still standing there except for the bishop’s men ready to take away the body. He nodded self-consciously and stepped back to give them room. But just before he did he craned his neck around to see the writing on the other side of the stake.

It read: “Not one damned regret.”

Chapter 26

“Rome,” said Felix and the entire table went silent.

“Rome,” he repeated. “We’ve got to get to Rome.”

And they looked at him like he was some rude interloper but he really didn’t give a shit. He appreciated the meal and the bishop’s hospitality and he knew damn well everyone had needed this restful few hours in this great house.

But dammit! It was time to face the facts. The vampires were still out there.

Still looking for them.

Still monsters.

Felix turned to Adam. “Can the Church get us there? Right away?”

Adam blinked, stared at him, looked to Crow, who was sitting across from him.

Crow sighed and looked down at his empty plate. He looked tired.

“Okay, Felix,” he said softly, “let’s talk.”

He pushed his heavy chair back from the bishop’s grand table and stood up. He looked at the others around the table.

“Let’s all talk,” he said with a wan smile and motioned them to follow.

Felix hesitated, suspicious, then stood up with the rest of them — including the bishop — and followed Crow into the Common Room. The bishop took his customary chair, a great embroidered something that looked like a throne. Jack sat in a big leather piece beside him. Felix remained standing next to the great hearth. The rest of them took seats around the huge pile of Team equipment piled up in the center of the room. They had brought it with them along with Carl’s remains. Crossbows and crossbow bolts and pikes and spare pistols and several cases of silver bullets. The stack was a mess because that’s the way they had loaded it into the motorhome and that’s the way they had brought it into the house because there hadn’t really been enough room in the motorhome to store it the way they had — far from Carl’s body.

But somehow that had seemed important at the time.

When they were all settled and cigarettes were lit and attendants had found the necessary ashtrays…

“All right, Felix,” began Jack Crow, “let’s hear it.”

Felix paused a moment, trying to read Jack’s eyes. Was there a challenge in there somewhere? Anything?

Whatever.

And he got down to it:

They were being hunted. They didn’t know who was hunting them or where they were. All they had was a clue that somebody had taken over Davette’s house and even if that was correct… If that was correct, they still didn’t have enough people to take the target.

“I would have no idea whatsoever how to blow that wall the way Carl planned. Does anybody else know explosives that well?”

There was a pause before they all shook their heads.

Felix nodded, satisfied.

“And it would be suicide to go down into those shadows away from the sunshine. Remember the ‘god’ in the Cleburne Jail?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

“This Team has had it. No place to run, not enough firepower to fight, no place to hide — but one. Rome. We have got to get to Rome. And I mean: now.”

It was quiet after that. Uncomfortable and quiet and all eyes were on Jack Crow but it was the bishop who spoke next.

“If you will forgive me,” he began with a kindly nod toward Jack, “I think this young man is right.” He moved quickly to soothe his own words. “I don’t mean to intrude, Mr. Crow, I assure you. But I have tended people all my life and many of them were soldiers and… And you — all of you — must take rest.”

And all eyes went back to Jack and then there was more silence, long heavy silence, before he suddenly nodded.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

Too quietly for Felix. “What?” he asked leaning forward.

Jack looked up at him and his eyes were dead. “I said ‘okay.’ Rome.”

Felix nodded. Nothing more.

“Fine,” said the bishop, sounding relieved. “In the morning Father Adam and I will call..

“What about tonight?” interrupted Felix. “And while I’m at it, don’t you think we oughta get a move on? It’s full dark and they know we know the bishop, don’t they?”

The bishop smiled and rose up from his chair.

“I shouldn’t worry, young man. I should think being within these walls would cause them great pain.”

It did. It hurt.

Even here, from the far edges of the grounds, the wretched torment from that ghastly stained-glass glow blew racking agonies through the Young Master’s temples.

And the beasts… The beasts did not form at his gesture, did not close about him at his shining will. No. They circled and keened and stepped their dead souls’ weight from foot to foot with only the sweet smell of their decay and his own blissful memory of it to recommend them.

But they would obey him.

They would obey the Young Master on this, his premier solo task from the Great Master himself. They would obey.

Despite the pain.

Despite the searing misery of the Monster’s temple.

Because they were hungry.

Hours and hours they are risen this day and the thirst was rich and clasping their brute selves and they would obey.

They would obey if he must fling their rotting forms through those agonized windows.

“Beasts!” he shrilled to them, filling his own mind with the volume of his determination.

“Children!” he sang out mote and his thoughts penetrated them and they turned to him.

And he strode forward, ignoring the greater agony of this nearness, forward step after step, until he halted and raised a long beautiful pale hand and one shiny black nail and pointed at the shadows on the windows and spoke out loud and in his will:

“Food!”

“Food!!”