Vampire Babylon - Night Rising Part 36

"It got away," she said as Dawn lowered her revolver.

Now that the adrenaline had cooled, Dawn sank to her knees, holding herself up with her left hand. She wanted to throw up. And when the shakes took over, cold and throttling, she lay down, her right side pierced with agony.

What had she done? They couldn't take Robby back to The Voice now. And Marla couldn't be questioned about any lies she'd been telling.

"I didn't want him in me again," Dawn whispered between trembles.

Jonah's voice, soft and somehow understanding, came through her earpiece. "I'm sure you didn't, Dawn."

Skin spotted with blood, Breisi stood over her. But...why wasn't she as upset as she should've been? And why was The Voice, of all people, being so nice?

"There's one locator tuned to a Guard's body heat and one programmed to detect Frank," Breisi said. "I managed to attach them to the Guard's clothes."

Optimism somehow rose above the shakes. "We can track it?" Dawn asked.

"If it doesn't discover the bugs first."

"It's all right, Dawn," Jonah said. "This was only the beginning; a small battle in a big war. And Robby gave us some very useful ammunition." Pause. "We've just started."

Inexplicably, Dawn started to laugh-big, automatic gulps of relief, weariness, and disbelief. Crazy sounds of grief that she couldn't acknowledge because it would break her apart until she didn't exist anymore.

A war, she thought. This wasn't even close to over. G.o.d help her, not even close.

And, as the sun saturated the sky with streaks of red, Jonah drew up more battle plans, concocting a story that they'd give to the cops about Nathan Pennybaker's suicide at the news of his wife's disappearance. They would tell the authorities that the distraught man had called the PIs over and then impaled himself in their presence. The rest-burns from vampire spit, blood- they'd leave to the crime technicians to fret over.

Because skepticism about monsters and Jonah Limpet's money were powerful allies-ones they had to depend on.

Ultimately, after being questioned and released by the authorities, the women finally slouched to the 4Runner in the emerging light of day. On the way to the vehicle, Dawn took off her earring, not because she was following Kiko's advice about it getting ripped out, but because it didn't seem to fit anymore. Actually, nothing fit her now.

Except for the painful echoes of another vampire hunter's screams-her father's.

TWENTY-SEVEN.

NEWMOON.

HOURSearlier, at nightfall, a star had been reborn.

Unlike previous "deaths"-such as Jesse Shane's-this one had been made easier with the advances of technology. Certainly Dr.

Eternity and his trusted group of Servants could have used Hollywood special effects to simulate Tamsin Greene's gory demise, but there hadn't been any need for it-not with the doctor's vampiric talents. The resurrection had been deceptively simple.

As night swallowed Los Angeles, Dr. Eternity's plans had been set into motion. Using the cover of darkness and disguise to emerge Above, the doctor-or Master, as he was known to Sorin and the Elites-visited the victim's home. There, Tamsin Greene invited him over the threshold.

Greedy for forever-fame, she was eager to begin the agreed upon ritual, her makeup carefully applied, her body clothed in satin, her eyes speaking of a fear she would soon forget.

Fear of aging. Fear of losing the adoring glances bestowed upon her by millions.

Then she led him to her room, where he lay her down on the white bed, caressed her neck, encouraged the jugular vein to emerge while a.s.suring her that he would be gentle. That her new life was going to be beautiful beyond imagination.

That she would always remain beautiful.

As her eyes glazed under his seductive words, her breath came in shallow gasps. He stroked her to calmness, his gaze a hypnotic sedative. Then, when she was primed, he carefully took her in the time-honored ritual of exchange, fangs extending as he revealed his true, terrible face.

She gasped at the shock of it, gasped at the rapid, animal pierce of broken skin at her neck. Then, after a tender and languorous feast of her blood, Dr. Eternity reared back, slit his wrist with a clawed nail, and bequeathed her his own life's water. He allowed her to drink only so much-enough to rise.

To complete the cycle, he placed his red-stained lips over hers, giving her the kiss of a Soul Taker. He drank completely again, immersing himself in her essence, feeling as revered as a one-hundred-foot G.o.d on a movie screen. Every vivid human experience: laughter, sadness, love-all the emotions he had to work so hard to possess-filled him to overflowing.

To drunken agony.

Meanwhile, Tamsin's veins constricted with the new elements in her system, her body animated by the Master's blood. Later, before the Underground welcoming ceremony, her body would fully shape itself to her new vampiric form.

But that was yet to come.

Now, she screamed at the heat of her change, straining along with her master, both of them in pain and near weeping.

Her memories consumed him: the thrill of being desired. The lovely terror of facing a thousand fans who needed you...

All too soon, like skin being torn from bone, Tamsin's soul screeched and separated from him, and the doctor fell to the carpet.

Her essence wailed into a vial that sat on the bed, a container he had charmed with the facade of safe harbor. Her soul cowered there, not knowing any better.

To the Master, losing the soul was akin to being stranded in the darkness of forever. Alienation, isolation, the terror of not knowing what was coming next, the horror of being rejected. He reached out, scratched at the bedspread, but like eternity, there was nothing to hold on to.

Even so, he wanted more...more.

As tremors wracked his body, he capped the vial, yet one more soul to add to his collection.

An hour seemed to pa.s.s while Tamsin moaned and fumbled for him, but the Master knew that time was only stretching itself out during their agony. It tortured him with the knowledge that he was fallen and bereft, that the very people he was saving with his blood would never love him as much as he loved-or wanted to be-them. As he held Tamsin's hand, her gaze grew wide, locked to the ceiling during a trauma she would soon rise above. Trembling, he kissed her neck, healing her bites instantly, then left her side to put her newest CD into the player. After tonight, this would always be known as Tamsin's final work, her greatest masterpiece. It would sell millions, and much of that would be in his coffers due to the payments she would always owe him.

With the first notes of a lazy love song, he slunk into the night, thus allowing Sorin to take over.

The second-in-command-first-in-command, as far as most of the Underground believed-strolled in by himself and waited until Tamsin's reanimated body gained enough strength to rise.

When she did, it was with the tentative wonder of an infant. She felt her body, ran her hands over her skin, staggered to her mirror.

"I look the same. Why? You promised me I'd be-"

"We have merely begun the ritual," Sorin said, never minding her tiresome Elite dramatics.

He called in the human Servants who would aid in this production. Eyes averted from Tamsin in respectful modesty, the underlings went about setting up the scene, making sure it was safe, yet convincing.

So easy compared to the ones who came before, Sorin thought.

Previous Elites had required Dr. Eternity to maim them and slow their vitals to the point where they appeared dying or dead, forcing the vampire to flee the Elite's side in a timely manner before the police arrived. But this particular presentation would be done on camera, allowing them more leeway. They had even discussed using a prosthetic throat that would gush blood, but an Internet broadcast would entail so-called "geeks" reviewing the footage ad nauseam, and they would uncover such fakery.

No matter though. Even at this stage of vampirism, Tamsin would heal, especially with Sorin's ability to mend wounds with a touch, and then the Master's astounding, final actions.

The older the vampire was, the quicker and more widespread the healing. With enough years, youngsters would ultimately gain that sort of power, as well.

After two hours, Tamsin was prepared for her biggest role yet.

Outside her mansion, Sorin waited for the broadcast to end, using an encrypted cell phone to handle Underground business: the updating of Robby Pennybaker's demise from spywork. Still doubtful of the Master's methods, Sorin's mind stayed focused on the fire that would burn in front of him; it was one of the only methods that could harm him, so caution was wise.

Predictably, the superstar performed without error.

As the flames consumed her home, the Servants, dressed in protective gear since they were stunt technicians in their Above lives, whisked Tamsin out of danger. Quickly, they subst.i.tuted a body that had already been burned and stripped of identifying features.

Then they carried out the necessary, routine trickery: with Robby Pennybaker, for instance, they had slowed his vitals after he had attacked his first, unlucky victim, then stolen his "corpse" from the morgue to avoid investigation; with Jesse Shane, they had wired his ambulance to explode in a remote area, leaving only body fragments behind-so mangled that the investigators would never discover that Jesse Shane's remains were not among the carnage.

And so it went with all the "deaths."

For Tamsin, they had found a suitable woman on the streets who no one would miss. No, there was not a person on earth who would care about yet another transient gone absent-not on a night when one of the world's biggest stars fell from the heavens.

In no time, Sorin and the Servants had transported Tamsin Underground without anyone Above being the wiser. Though Sorin was able to partially close Tamsin's throat wound, the cut ran deep. It would require the doctor's skills to complete her now.

While the Servants gathered with the rest of the excited Underground in the emporium where they awaited Tamsin's arrival, Sorin brought the new Elite to the Master.

He was only just slipping into the secret room himself, his aura shining. After he flipped on the radio, they heard the devastated voice of a dead-of-night DJ yelling and crying about tonight's Internet broadcast. The Master's aura brightened further, a halo surrounding an eclipsed sun.

The finest resurrection of all, Sorin thought. My master. Thank the day for this new Elite. Thank the day for his awakening at the terrible rise of the activities Above.

While the vampire they called Dr. Eternity settled his child on a bed of silk and rose petals, he spoke, profound sadness weighing his tone.

"They say my son was destroyed."

"It is for the best. In the end, Robby caused an information leak and changed the retrieval mission of him and his father into a convenient erasure. Between this rogue Elite and Lee Tomlinson, it has been made clear that betrayal will not go unpunished."

"At what price?"

"Youwere once taught to withold mercy from traitors."

"Yes." A simple acknowledgment had never sounded so sorrowful.

The Master laid a hand on Tamsin's self-inflicted wound. "One lost child is ushered out by the birth of a new one. Makes sense."

"We will grieve Robby properly. And Marla Pennybaker's mind will be wiped, leaving no trace of tonight after she is returned Above."

"No trace except for Limpet and a.s.sociates-something we weren't able to solve. I know that, Sorin. I know it very well, and we'll lock our community down until we know how to proceed, for the time being."

Relief glowed through Sorin. Perhaps the Master was planning aggressive action now. Perhaps he would soon be ready to vanquish their enemies.

The Master's aura flickered as he healed Tamsin Greene. Her skin had gone pale with the loss of blood, but her flesh was blooming back to its gorgeous, smooth, dark shade with the absorption of the Master's power. Her lips reddened.

Yet, just as she was becoming a reflection of her human self again, the Master went a step beyond, suffusing her with the true nature. The Allure she would be trained to control.

It began with her skin, which hushed a feathery mist of ghostly white-so light that her limbs seemed to float on air. Her eyes brightened open, irises mirroring a swirl of inhuman shades, hints of the afterlife, glimpses of places she would never be able to retire to now that she was without a soul.

Sorin thought of the room with the hundreds of vials-a h.e.l.l on earth.

Fully turned now, Tamsin was breathtaking. Slowly, she sat up, put her hands to her face. When Sorin held up an outdated looking gla.s.s, she gazed upon herself.

Like all of the Elites, she fell in love with the new image. She drank herself in, laughing and complimenting.

From the corner, the DJ on the radio was accepting phone calls from fans in hysterical denial."You're a legend," the Master said to his child. "And when the world has grieved and made you more of a G.o.ddess than you ever thought possible, you'll go back to them."

"But not until after the rest of the procedure," she said.

Unlike Robby Pennybaker, Tamsin was accepting of the necessary steps because the doctor's success rate in creating new careers for the Elite was astounding.

Tonight, after returning Tamsin to her more human form, the doctor would see to her recovery. She would stay Underground for decades, long enough to make her an even bigger legend. Years of experience predicted that the public would yearn for another Tamsin Greene, would crave a remedy for their nostalgic love of a talent who had died too young.

Meanwhile, she would train to "act human" and control her new powers. Underground, she would feed off Servants and Groupies who were addicted to an Elite's angelic beauty and glamour. She would be pampered and worshipped, young and ageless, never changing until the doctor stepped in once again.

Because, before her release to a Servant Above who would maintain her career, she would undergo an alteration. Most stars had taken part in a process similar before coming Underground anyway, so it was a familiar procedure.

In the final phase before a comeback, the Elite went "under the knife," as the doctor called it. With preternatural efficiency, he would use all the skills he had been taught by a human Servant-a plastic surgeon-over fifty years ago. He would transform Tamsin's face. Give her a new ident.i.ty. Work with such speed that the still-young vampire could not heal before he was finished.

And, when he was done, her flesh would wrap over cheekbone and chin implants, the star bearing only an eerie resemblance to her old self. Simple cosmetic changes that did not require surgery would aid in the rest of the masquerade, completing her fresh look.

But the most important element was this: Allure shining through her eyes, convincing anyone who looked into them that she carried the essence of a dead legend-a familiar star who would have aged so tragically during the pa.s.sage of years. Then, when the public noticed her eternal youth, she would return Underground to start again.

Better than Botox. And longer lasting, as well.

Although not everyone knew it, this doctor was the best career fixer in town.

Tamsin and her mirror were still enjoying an intense affair. "A legend. Just like Jim Morrison."

The Awareness between the Master and Sorin wavered, like a human chuckle.

"Your new family is waiting," the second-in-command reminded her.

The Master rested a hand on Tamsin's head, thus altering her to the quasi-human form that would house her Allure. He looked into her multi-colored eyes.

"Secrecy, my love," he said. "I don't exist for anyone except you and your siblings. Remember that."

She nodded, knowing the price of revealing the true Master. Back to mortality. Back to aging and eventually withering away. And for a professional who was so accustomed to signing non-disclosure agreements in her contracts, this step presented no difficulty.

"Yes, Master," she whispered, kissing his hand with fervent grat.i.tude.

Then Sorin led Tamsin up from the bed, guided her out of the darkness and through the tunnels. To the emporium.

As the doors opened, the haremesque grandeur embraced them. Cut gla.s.s, rich velvets and brocades, heady incense and flesh. Her fellow Elites-the ones who had yet to be released-stood before her, flanked by the Groupies, then a handful of Servants.