Vanquished. Part 14

The scientist's head shot up, and Noah knew he had heard him. He swiveled slowly and fixed red eyes on Noah.

"You are not one of my handlers," he said.

"No," Noah said cautiously.

The man's hand hovered over a small red b.u.t.ton on his desk. "Then you are . . . ?"

Noah decided to go for it. "I'm fighting with Team Salamanca."

The scientist c.o.c.ked his head. "I met them once. Nice kids." He smiled bitterly. "They couldn't save me from the vampires."

Noah didn't say anything.

The scientist crossed his arms. "So, why are you here?" he challenged.

"The 'kids' need to know what Project Crusade is planning. For tactical reasons."

The vampire raised his brows. "Tactical."

"Yes," Noah said. Then he added, "I'm Mossad. Israeli special forces. I can make you tell me. Even though you're a vampire."

Sherman chuckled. "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

"Or in your case, blood."

Sherman made a face. Then he shrugged. "I liked those kids. Except the Irishman. I have no idea why they put up with him. So. We're continuing my work. That's what all this is for." He waved an arm.

"A weapon to kill vampires."

The scientist nodded.

"And you're willingly helping them?" Noah asked, trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

"Don't worry. You're not the first to be surprised," Sherman said. "I was a little surprised myself." He smiled as if at some distant memory. "But it really was the only thing to do."

"Why?"

Sherman fixed his glowing red eyes on Noah. Weirdly, although the vampire was small and slight and looked to have been about forty when he was transformed, he reminded Noah of Antonio de la Cruz-who was none of those things.

"Why?" Sherman repeated. He shrugged. "Because all Cursed Ones are evil. We all deserve to die. We're parasites on humanity."

Noah was bemused. "But if you believe that, then-"

"Please." Sherman held up his hand to silence Noah. "I've been through this with my handlers. I'm not good. I'm just logical."

Noah nodded respectfully.

"I only hope that when we're gone, humanity can recover. But the vampires have so many in thrall. Under their control, I mean. They've identified so closely with their masters that they've lost themselves. They may fight to save the Cursed Ones." The vampire looked closely at him. "You're a soldier. I think you understand, yes?"

"More than you know," Noah whispered.

ISRAEL, TWO YEARS EARLIER.

NOAH.

Noah was fearful and excited all at the same time. It was a momentous day. He and Chayna were finally getting married. He was twenty-two, and she was just eighteen, and her parents had finally agreed to the wedding. The vampires were overrunning humanity; best to spend all the time they had together-except that as an Israeli agent committed to supersecret, violent missions against the vampires and their allies, Noah might not have as much time as other people. Chayna had told him over and over that she was prepared for that. Better one day married to him than a lifetime without him.

As he studied his reflection in the mirror, holding a kittel-his ceremonial white robe-in his hands, he remembered tormenting her mercilessly when they were kids. They were four years apart, and in the land of children, four years was a lifetime. They were friends, then best friends. He remembered telling her his dreams of becoming a writer. They'd celebrated when he had won an essay contest at the age of sixteen-with a shy, quick hug. After all, she'd only been twelve.

Filled with love, he wrote about her, about how it seemed that they were destined soul mates, and his first book was published when he was just eighteen. Overnight he became a literary phenomenon-"Israel's warrior heartbreaker" beginning his compulsory military service.

And then he remembered sitting on the couch with her six months later, when the Cursed Ones revealed themselves to the world. Chayna's hand had wrapped around his, squeezing it tight, and she was pale with fear.

He had told her that she was wrong to be afraid. Really, all he had wanted to do was make that look pa.s.s from her face. So he wrote-to her, to his country, to his people. His second novel was published after war had been declared, and he stayed in the service. It was not the time to lay down arms. He saw that clearly.

He told her he wanted to join the Mossad. Secret intelligence, a.s.sa.s.sinations. She cried for days, and her father told her to break it off with him.

"He'll be dead within a year. Six months," her father had said.

But he'd survived. And now they would be married.

"I wish you joy," Yosef said, coming into the room, a huge grin on his face.

"Thank you for being here," Noah replied. "I know you're training."

Yosef shrugged. "I told my master that I had a year to learn how to fight Cursed Ones, but I had only one day to see my best friend married."

"I'm surprised they let you come," Noah said, having heard about the rigor and isolation of the Israeli counter-vampire training facility.

Yosef grinned. "They didn't so much 'let' me. What is it your father always says?"

"Better to ask forgiveness than beg permission," Noah said with a grin.

"So here we are."

Noah nodded. Here they were, and he couldn't be happier.

And then it was time.

During the ceremony, under the chuppah, he knew he was holding his breath until he slipped the plain gold ring on Chayna's finger. For the rest of the day and late into the evening, all Noah could do was grin. I'm married. We're married.

Everything else was a blur.

In the hotel room she lit candles and told him to turn his back while she undressed. He flushed and he heard her laugh, a short, nervous giggle, and he knew that she was as excited, and as nervous, as he was. And then, finally, they fell into each other's arms. And all the waiting in the world had been worth it to make love to his wife.

But something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong with his wife.

They had been married a week, a week of bliss and parties and prayers for simcha-happiness-that Noah would treasure for all of his life. But then on the eighth evening, after all the parties were over, Chayna went to visit her great-aunt, who had taken ill. He wanted to go with her, but he was also feeling unwell, and he was due to go on a mission in two days. She told him to stay home, insisting she would be very careful on the streets of Tel Aviv, where they lived. The vampires had imposed a curfew, but it was hours away. He sat down to write, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

She didn't answer her cell, and he was just about to go looking for her when she drifted over the threshold of their flat, moody and fixated elsewhere. When he tried to kiss her, she wandered past him.

She's upset about her aunt, he reasoned, trailing after her. But when he called her name, she didn't even answer, as if she didn't hear him.

She was standing in the kitchen, staring out the window at the moon. He walked up behind her and kissed her shoulder.

She hissed at him. Startled, he took a step backward. "Chayna?"

"He's calling to me. He wants me to come back to him," she said in a strange, singsong voice. "He's not done."

She turned to gaze at him. The pupils in her normally brilliant green eyes were dilated so much that he couldn't see the green, and her face was slack.

"Chayna? Are you all right?"

"I have to go to him now."

"Who?" he asked. She was acting so strangely.

"We were wrong," she mumbled. "It's so very hard to be one of them. It's the least I can do."

"What?"

She seemed to wake up. Her dilated eyes locked onto him. "I'm a donor," she declared.

"A donor." Chills ran down his spine. He thought his knees might give way.

"Blood donor," she said, voice laced with contempt, as though she thought he was an idiot for asking. "I've been chosen."

No. No, no, no.

"Chayna, while you were out, gone from me, did you meet a Cursed One? Did something happen?"

"Yes." She said it as simply as if he had asked her if the stars were shining.

He had heard whispers about people being mesmerized, changing behavior, turning on friends and family who stood in their way. It couldn't be true, could it? But there was his Chayna, standing there, talking about being a blood donor?

He cupped her shoulders and bent his knees so he could peer into her eyes. They were so vacant. "You've been hypnotized. I'll call Yosef. He'll know-"

And with a scream she threw him off and reached behind herself on the counter. She s.n.a.t.c.hed a knife, lunged at him.

"Get away from me!" she shouted.

He jumped back as the knife sliced across his abdomen. He tried to grab her hand, but she moved like a serpent, twisting and writhing.

"Chayna, please!" he begged, as she stabbed him in the thigh.

She yanked the blade free, and he could feel himself weakening as blood flowed down his leg. He grabbed her hand, twisting, trying to make her let go of the knife.

She kicked and bit at him. He stepped forward, and his foot slipped in a puddle of his own blood. They hit the ground together, her on top, the knife trapped between them. He heard a sudden guttural noise and felt hot blood rushing over his hand.

"Chayna!"

She looked down at him, and blood began to run out of the corner of her mouth and drip onto his cheeks. Her eyes changed slowly, and then she blinked and looked down at him. Love and pain mingled on her face.

"Noah," she breathed. "Noah."

"Chayna!" he shouted.

She whispered something so softly that he couldn't quite make it out.

"What? What?" he asked urgently. "Chayna, what?"

As she went limp, he saw where the blade had buried itself in her chest. Blood was pouring out of her chest, so much. Her eyes went gla.s.sy.

She was gone.

He screamed as he gathered her body up in his arms and held her, even as his own blood gushed from his body.

We'll die together. We'll be together.

Something cold touched his arm. He jerked; it was the edge of her Star of David pendant poking out of the pocket of her jeans. The vampire who had mesmerized her must have convinced her to take it off. The Cursed One. The demon had to be made to pay.

Noah staggered to his feet and made it to the sink. He grabbed a towel to staunch the bleeding. His free hand shook as he reached for his phone. He would still call Yosef-to get him into the counter-vampire training facility. And he would destroy the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who had done this.

Then he would die, and he and Chayna would be at peace.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Salamanca Hunter's Manual: Your Role as Hunter