Vampire - Deep Midnight Part 49

She swallowed hard, feeling the mist swirl around her. She closed her eyes, imagining them bringing up the coffin. It was sealed in lead. She didn't know what device Sean had brought for that, or how he'd managed to get this luggage on the plane, but she was sure it had to do with the 'last-minute arrangements' they had made at the airport.

Soon they would reach the coffin. She was afraid it would be like the old Hammer films she watched on the Movie Channel. They would open it up; there would be a horrible creaking sound. And there would be Steven, restored to health and splendor, sleeping with his arms crossed over his chest. And he would open his eyes, but she wouldn't see Steven's eyes, she would see the red glowing orbs of a demon ...

"We're down to the vault," Ragnor said to Sean.

Sean crawled out of the hole and saw Jordan's pale face. "It's almost over."

He had some kind of a battery-operated welding gun in the bag. He grabbed it and dropped back into the hole. Jordan heard the hoot of an owl and clenched her teeth, looking around the graveyard.

She stared back at the hole, seeing the sparks that created an eerie red glow within.

Then, as she watched and listened to the drone of the gun, she had the feeling that someone was behind her.

She turned. There was someone there. A young man in tattered jeans and a worn Grateful Dead T-shirt.

His hair was long and greasy; he looked as if he'd been on his way to a street fight. She didn't scream; she just stared at him in surprise.

Then he smiled. She saw the fangs of her dreams. In life, the youth hadn't kept up his teeth. They were marred and yellowed, and even the glistening fangs seemed almost green.

She opened her mouth. At first, no sound came. Then she managed to scream while reaching into her purse for the holy water.

She threw it at him, doubting her ability to do harm.

To her amazement, he screamed, louder than she. It might have been acid that she had thrown at him, the way he clutched his face, backing away. She heard a sizzling sound... saw flesh on his face began to decompose ...

He wasn't alone. A foul-looking young woman with spiked hair came running up from behind him, as if she were a frenzied animal. Jordan tossed more water from her Venetian vial. It was not enough, for the girl was still coming.

Before she could reach Jordan, a black shadow seemed to fall before her. Jordan saw Ragnor's bulk take shape. He swung a fist, knocking the girl from her intent, sending her flying back against a tree. The youth remained on the ground, rolling in pain. The girl sat stunned, slumped against the tree for one moment; then she rose again, as insanely as a rabid dog, and came running forward.

By then, Ragnor had taken up a discarded spade. He swung as she ran. Jordan cried out with a sick sound as she heard the spade strike against the girl's throat. She turned away, knowing that the head was flying free from the body.

Lucian, too, had come from the grave. He walked over to the rolling youth. Jordan turned away, not wanting to see the end.

"There's one more coming," Lucian said, walking back to Ragnor.

"The businessman from the restaurant," Ragnor said. He inclined his head toward Jordan. "I think that Buffy the Vampire Slayer here is out of holy water."

Sean nodded, taking a stance by the grave. The other two slipped back in. A moment later, she heard a groaning, like nails pulling hard against a board. They had the leaden sarcophagus off. Then she heard the wrenching of wood.

Then . ..

Silence.

"What is it?" Jordan demanded tersely.

Sean Canady walked around the grave, leading her carefully. Ragnor had a flashlight in the hole.

He shone it into the coffin.

Jordan nearly retched. There was a body in the coffin. Burned and decomposed. Hair gone; features hardly recognizable as human.

"I told you!" she breathed. "I told you!" She backed away. "Put the cover back; fix the lead shield. For the love of G.o.d, let him rest in peace!" She turned, ready to walk away from the coffin. She stopped instantly.

There was a man in front of her now, in a business suit. Pleasant looking. Dusty blond hair, nice eyes, easy smile.

Except that he smiled with long teeth. "Come!" he said softly.

Ragnor rose from the grave; floated from it, as if he were on an invisible elevator platform. Jordan realized she was suddenly more afraid of him than of the strange businessman.

"Come with me," the man beckoned again. "This man doesn't know what a woman is for. I can show you."

Ragnor stepped forward. Jordan turned away, covered her ears with her hands. Sean came to her, holding her against his chest.

"A lot to take in, huh?" he asked her.

"Please ... let's finish and get out of here."

Later, in the car on the way to the airport, she asked, "What about the people we've now left in the graveyard? And the freshly dug earth around Steven's remains?"

"The police will have a bad time with that," Sean mused.

"That's it... ?" Jordan said.

"There was nothing else we could do tonight," Ragnor said.

Jordan had chosen not to sit by him. She was in the front with Sean, who drove. "What do you make of our visitors?" Lucian asked Ragnor.

"Rank amateurs," Ragnor murmured.

"I agree."

"I think they were sent to delay us, no more. Or make us believe we weren't up against much power or strength."

"Those young people were someone's children," Jordan said.

"They had lost their children already," Sean told her quietly. He looked her way. "Maybe that will help you understand. This has to be stopped."

Ragnor touched her shoulder. "You are handy with a vial of holy water. And it will work against enemies such as those. But you should know as well, seawater is deadly."

"Seawater?"

"Seawater. It's absolutely deadly. To all of us. And Venice is full of ca.n.a.ls. Remember that, if..."

The 'if' scared her. As traumatized as she had been, she realized that she was suddenly afraid for him rather than of him.

At a gas station outside the airport, they cleaned up. They arrived in plenty of time to board early, and Jordan realized that whoever had put out the money for the tickets must have some real income.

Last minute, first cla.s.s tickets. The plane was a 777. Jordan felt almost as unreal boarding the plane calmly with them as she had felt standing in the cemetery.

She found herself taking the seat beside Ragnor. She indulged in champagne.

He read a magazine. U.S. News and World Report.

Somewhere over the Atlantic, she knew that she was tired enough to sleep. But before she extended her nearly horizontal seat, she turned to him, studying his features again.

"Do you believe that I lived before?" she asked him.

"I never gave it any thought. Why?"

She shook her head. "Just curious. Maggie thought she had met Sean before. That-that he had been the great love in her life, or something like that, years and years ago. And she told me that Lucian was convinced, when he met Jade, that she had been someone else."

He turned back to his magazine. "I've known many people throughout the years."

"Ah. But there wasn't a great love of your life?"

He stared at her again. "I'm sorry; if there ever was one . .."

"Yes?"

"A long, long time ago, it was Nari."

"Oh."

She turned away from him, stunned, feeling like a fool.

Later, she thought she felt his fingers, smoothing her hair. She did. She heard his soft whisper. "Sad, huh?"

"What?"

"That I once knew Nari so well."

"You still saw her in Venice."

He shook his head. "Only to demand answers."

"I thought for sure that you-I don't know. That you were one of her ... kind. Well, you are one of her kind. That you were with her. I mean, part of her ... following."

He had leaned toward her, but he didn't press his point.

"I will destroy her," he told her softly.

"Can you, really?"

"Without blinking. Someday soon, I'll tell you why."

She wasn't going to get any more out of him than that. She twisted in her comfortable chair, trying to sleep. He pulled her little pillow against his shoulder.

She slept until the cabin lights came on, and the flight attendant offered breakfast before landing in Rome.

They transferred to their last flight.

And it was mid-morning when they at last reached Venice again.

They walked to the dock where the water taxis waited. Jordan didn't have to remind Ragnor why they were back. He asked the driver to take them to the hospital as quickly as possible.

Seawater! She remembered.

Seawater could destroy the beasts.

CHAPTER 21.

For years, Nari was the perfect companion. She so nearly perished that night; whether he had chosen to obey the ancient rules or not, Edgar had survived the carnage, and he would have gladly taken a sword to Nari's throat. But she had cried so pathetically, begged forgiveness, and pleaded in such a way that even Lucian and Wulfgar had shrugged, saying that by their law, they could not simply take her head, or throw her with premeditation into the flames, or cut out her heart.

And so she had lived. And spent the next weeks, months, years, decades, trying to prove that she had learned loyalty, control, and moderation. Ragnor preferred to spend his time in the very far north; she seemed, for those years, to want nothing more than to be with him.

Wars came and wars ended. The world was ruled by the sane and merciful, and by the cruel. Every rebellion from a new lord brought about another new lord much the same.

But when King Philip of France sent out his call to arms in a great Crusade, Ragnor decided to leave the northern isle they had called home for so many years and ride to battle. Nari encouraged him and came with him on the Holy Crusade. The journey fascinated him; he loved the different places they went-France, Spain, and Italy-on the way to meet the Infidels. Italy especially fascinated him; the Romans had left behind such magnificent masterpieces in sculpture and architecture. It often amazed him that the ancient civilization had come so far, only to perish in the wealth of excess, with, of course, a little help from barbarian tribes. Nari was amused by his wonder at everything they saw. She was familiar with Italy and the days of the Roman Empire. It was as they traveled that she told him that it was a homecoming for her, in a way, since she had come from the East as a child, and lived in Italy for many years.

The Infidels were intriguing as well; they were exceptionally learned, and as dedicated to their Allah as the Christians were to their one true G.o.d.

But the desert sands were hot, the fighting was fierce, and in such a world, sides must be taken. There were gains, and there were losses, and Ragnor fought with as great an ardor as any man, and he killed, as death was the duty of a knight in battle. A man such as he needed enemies.

There were times as well when the enemies negotiated, and he was often with the leaders of the great Crusade when they met with the representatives of the great Arab leader Saladin. The tents of the enemy were exotic and rich, the fabrics of the draperies were exceptionally fine. During one such meeting, he met a man he quickly recognized as one of his own kind. When the talks had finished on a discordant note, he met with the swarthy fellow outside. "Your Christians will perish here," he told Ragnor, as they stood by their horses, ready to mount. "I am eager for this battle; there is nothing like the taste of a holy warrior who is in the midst of an effort to seize the homeland of my people."

"There is nothing like the taste of a man who believes his G.o.d will honor him for the death and destruction of others," Ragnor replied.

The Arab shrugged, a grin on his strong, swarthy, face. "Indeed, for the two of us, there is simply the love of the taste of battle, and what better excuse than a war for ideals?"

"There will always be wars over ideals."

"Indeed. Thank both Allah and your G.o.d for that!" said the Arab.

His name was Ali Eban, and in the battles to come, he excelled, and was noted by the Christian warriors with great respect. And as even the leaders of men, King Richard of England among them, were excessive in their slaughter, whatever rampant tastes he allowed himself went unnoticed.

One night, returning to the scene of a battle with Nari, Ragnor found that he was not the only man to slip back to the battlefield. The Arab Ali Eban was there, ripping into the injured with a wanton and careless abandon. He and Ragnor came face to face, and when Ali realized that he was not up against an easily taken opponent, he backed away, sharply reminding Ragnor of the law of the ancients.

"Seize upon your own dying then, and leave those who will walk again," Ragnor told him.

Ali motioned to him, indicating that he would bow to that term. Nari stood at Ragnor's side and was with him when they parted. She feasted upon those who were near to death, speaking gently, easing them on to their Heaven. She returned with Ragnor to the Christian camp that night, and she was more exotic and pa.s.sionate than ever in her lovemaking.