Fet was slashing and hacking, shielding his face and eyes from the books being thrown at him.
Eph turned and sidestepped the vampire that was nearly upon him, driving his blade through its throat. Another two appeared at the door. Eph made ready to fight them off when he was struck hard by a blow across his left ear. He turned with his flashlight beam and found another vampire standing astride the stacks, hurling books at him. Eph knew then that he had to get out of there.
As he cut down the oncoming pair of sacrificial strigoi, Eph saw Mr. Quinlan streak across the rear of the room. Mr. Quinlan shouldered the book-wielding nuisance off the stacks, launching the vampire across the room—then stopped. He turned in Fet’s direction, and, seeing this, so did Eph.
He watched Fet’s broad blade slice into another wilding vampire—just as the Master descended from the stacks above him, landing behind Fet. Fet was aware of the Master, somehow, and tried to turn and slash at it. But the Master gripped Fet’s backpack, pulling down sharply. The pack slipped back to Fet’s elbows, pinning his arms behind him.
Fet could have shaken free, but that would have meant relinquishing his pack. Mr. Quinlan leaped down off the book stack, racing at the Master. The Master used the thick, sharp nail of its talon-like middle finger to sever the padded shoulder straps, cutting the pack away from Fet even as Fet fought for it. Fet turned and lunged at the Master, and at his pack, with no regard for himself. The Master caught him one-handedly and hurled him—as easily as a book—directly at Mr. Quinlan.
Their collision was violent and loud.
Eph saw the Master with the book bag in hand. Nora faced him now, from the end of her row, standing before him, sword out. What Nora could not see—but the Master and Eph could—were two female vampires racing along the tops of the stacks behind her.
Eph yelled to Nora, but she was transfixed. The Master’s murmur. Eph yelled again, even as he moved, running sword-first at the Master.
The Master turned, deftly anticipating Eph’s attack—but not Eph’s aim. Eph sliced not at the Master’s body, but at the severed strap of the pack itself, just below the Master’s grip. He wanted the Lumen. He clipped the dangling strap and the bag dropped to the library floor. Eph’s momentum took him past the dodging Master—and the action was enough to break Nora’s trance. She turned and saw the strigoi above her, about to strike. Their stingers lashed out, but Nora’s silver sword kept them at bay.
The Master looked back at Eph with ferocious disgust. Eph was off balance and vulnerable to attack—but Mr. Quinlan was getting back on his feet. The Master scooped up the bag of books before Eph could and raced to the rear door.
Mr. Quinlan was up. The Born looked back at Eph, just for a moment, then turned and rushed out the door after the Master. He had no choice. They had to have that book.
Gus chopped at the bloodsucker running at him through the basement, hitting it again before it went down. He ran upstairs to the classroom where Joaquin was and found him lying atop the desk with his head on a folded blanket. He should have been deep in a narcotic sleep, but his eyes were open and staring at the ceiling.
Gus knew. There were no obvious symptoms—it was too early for that—but he could tell that Mr. Quinlan was right. A combination of the bacterial infection, the drugs, and the vampire sting had Joaquin in a stupor.
“Adios.”
Gus did away with him. One swift chop of his sword, and then he stood staring at the unholy mess he had made until the noises from the building stirred him back into action.
The helicopter had returned outside. He heard gunfire and wanted to get out there. But first he ran back into the underground passages. He attacked and slaughtered two unlucky vampires who intervened on his way to his power room. He broke all of his batteries off their chargers, dumping them into a bag with his lamps and his night scopes.
He was alone now—truly alone. And his hideout was blown.
He strapped one Luma lamp to his free hand and readied his sword and set off to fuck up some bloodsuckers.
Eph made his way to a flight of stairs, looking for an exit. He had to get outside.
A door gave way to a loading area and the humid coolness of the night air. Eph switched off his flashlight, trying to orient himself. No vampires, not at the moment. The helicopter was somewhere on the other side of the library, over the quad. Eph started off toward the maintenance garage, where Gus stored his larger weapons. They were vastly outnumbered, and this hand-to-sword combat worked in the Master’s favor. They needed more firepower.
As Eph ran from building to building, anticipating attacks from any direction, he became aware of a presence racing along the rooftops of the campus buildings. A creature following him. Eph caught only glimpses of a partial silhouette, but that was all he needed. He was certain he knew who it was.
As he approached the garage, he noticed a light on inside. That meant a lamp, and a lamp meant a human. Eph ran up to the entrance, close enough to see that the garage door was open. He saw the tricked-out silver grille of a vehicle, Creem’s yellow Hummer backed inside.
Eph had believed Creem to be long gone. Eph turned the corner and saw Creem’s unmistakable barrel-shaped shadow, loading tools and batteries into the rear of the vehicle.
Eph moved quickly but silently, hoping to sneak up on the much larger man. But Creem was on high alert, and something made him spin around, confronting Eph. He grabbed Eph’s wrist, immobilizing his sword arm, then flattened Eph against the Hummer.
Creem got right up in Eph’s face, so close Eph could smell the dog treats on his breath, could see the crumbs still stuck in his silver teeth. “Did you think I was going to be outplayed by some white-bread fuckup with a library card?”
Creem reared back his massive hand, forming a silver-knuckled fist. As he brought it forward toward Eph’s face, a thin figure ran at him from the front of the car, hooking his arm, driving the bigger Creem back toward the rear of the garage.
Eph came off the Hummer coughing for air. Creem was fighting off the intruder in the shadows of the back. Eph found his flashlight, turning it on.
It was a vampire, snarling and scratching at Creem, who was able to hold his own only because of the repellent silver bling on his fingers and the thick silver chains around his neck. The vampire hissed and weaved, slashing with its long talon finger at Creem’s thigh, cutting him, the pain such that the top-heavy Creem collapsed under his own weight.
Eph raised his flashlight beam to the vampire’s face. It was Kelly. She had saved him from Creem because she wanted Eph for herself. The flashlight reminded her of this, and she snarled into its brightness, leaving the wounded Creem and starting toward Eph.
Eph searched the cement floor of the garage for his sword but could not find it. He reached into his pack for his spare but remembered that Mr. Quinlan had taken it.
He had nothing. He backed up, hoping to nudge his fallen sword with his heel, but to no avail.
Kelly approached, crouched low, a sneer of anticipatory ecstasy crossing her vampire face. At long last, she was about to have her Dear One.
And then the look was gone, replaced by a startled expression of fear as she looked past Eph with narrow eyes.
Mr. Quinlan had arrived. The Born stepped next to Eph, its silver sword in hand, tipped in white blood.
Kelly went into full hissing mode, her body tense, ready to spring and escape. Eph did not know what words or sounds the Born was putting into her head, but they distracted and enraged her. He checked Mr. Quinlan’s other hand and did not see Fet’s bag. The book was gone.
Eph, by now at the Hummer’s front door, saw inside the automatic weapons that Gus had delivered to Creem. While the Born compelled Kelly, Eph went into the truck and grabbed the nearest weapon, wrapping its shoulder sling around his forearm. He stepped out and fired past Mr. Quinlan at Kelly, the machine gun suddenly coming to life in his hands.
He missed her with his first volley. Now she was moving, darting up and over the roo
f of the Hummer to avoid his fire. Eph went quickly around the rear of the truck, shooting at will, chasing the leaping Kelly back out of the garage, firing at her as she raced up the side of the building to the roof and away.
Eph went immediately back inside, to the rear, where Creem was on his feet, trying to get to the Hummer. Eph walked right up to him with the smoking-hot weapon pointed at the gang leader’s considerable chest.
“What the fuck was that?” yelled Creem, looking down at the blood staining his slashed pant leg. “How many of these bloodsuckers you got fighting over you?”
Eph turned to Mr. Quinlan. “What happened?”
The Master. It got away. Far away.
“With the Lumen.”
Fet and Nora came running inside, doubling over, out of breath.
“Watch him,” Eph told Mr. Quinlan before darting outside to cut down any pursuers. But he saw none.
Back inside, Fet was checking Nora for blood worms. They were still trying to catch their breath, exhausted from fright, the fight, and the escape.
“We gotta get the hell outta here,” said Fet between gasps.
“The Master has the Lumen,” said Eph.
“Is everyone all right?” said Nora, seeing Creem in back with Mr. Quinlan. “Where’s Gus?”
Eph said, “Did you hear me? The Master’s got it. It’s gone. We’re through.”
Nora looked at Fet and smiled. Fet made a swirling motion with his finger and she turned around so that Fet could unzip the pack on her back. He pulled out a parcel of old newspaper and unwrapped it.
Inside was the silverless Lumen.
“The Master got the Gutenberg Bible I was working on,” said Fet, smiling more at his own cleverness than the happy outcome.
Eph had to touch it to convince himself that it was real. He looked to Mr. Quinlan to confirm that it was.
Nora said, “The Master’s going to be pissed.”
Fet said, “No. It looks really good. I think he will be pleased . . .”
Eph said, “Holy shit.” He looked to Mr. Quinlan. “We should leave. Now.”
Mr. Quinlan grabbed Creed roughly by the thick back of his neck.
“What’s this?” asked Nora, referring to Mr. Quinlan’s rough treatment of Creem.
Eph said, “Creem is the one who brought the Master here.” He briefly pointed the weapon at the big man. “But he’s had a change of heart. Now he’s going to help us. He’s going to lead us to the armory to get the detonator. But first we need the bomb.”
Fet was wrapping up the Lumen and returning it to Nora’s backpack. “I can lead you there.”
Eph climbed into the driver’s seat, setting the machine gun on the broad dashboard. “Lead on.”
“Wait,” said Fet, jumping into the passenger seat. “First we need Gus.”
The others jumped in, and Eph started the engine. The headlamps came on, illuminating two vampires coming their way. “Hold on!”
He punched the gas, rolling out toward the surprised strigoi. Eph drove right into them, the creatures perishing on impact with the silver grille. He cut right, off the road, over a dirt lawn, bumping up two steps and onto a campus walkway. Fet took the machine gun and rolled down his window, climbing half out. He sprayed down any pairs or groups of strigoi advancing on them.
Eph turned the corner around one of the larger university halls, crushing an old bicycle rack. He saw the rear of the library and gunned it, avoiding a dry fountain and crushing two more straggling vampires. He came out around the front of the library and saw the helicopter hovering over the campus quad.
He was so focused on the helicopter that he did not see, until the last moment, the long flight of broad stone steps leading down in front of him. “Hang on!” he yelled, both to Fet, hanging outside the window, and to Nora, who was moving weapons in back.
The Hummer dipped down hard and jounced along the stairs like a yellow turtle bumping down a washboard set at a forty-five-degree angle. They rattled around fiercely inside the vehicle, Eph knocking his head against the roof. They bottomed out with a final jolt and Eph swung left, toward the Thinker statue set outside the philosophy building, near where the helicopter had been hovering.
“There!” yelled Fet, spotting Gus and his violet Luma lamp emerging from behind the statue, where he had taken cover from the chopper’s gunfire. The helicopter was turning now toward the truck, Fet raising his weapon and trying to fire one-handedly at the flying machine as he held on to the Hummer’s roof rack. Eph zoomed toward the statue, running down another vampire as he pulled up to Gus.
Fet’s gun choked dry. Shots from the helicopter drove him back inside, the gunfire just missing the truck. Gus came running up and saw Eph behind the wheel, then quickly reached in behind him, imploring Nora, “Give me one of those!”
She did, and Gus brought the machine gun to his shoulder, kicking off rounds at the helicopter overhead—first one at a time, drawing a bead on his target, then firing rapid bursts.
The return gunfire stopped, and Eph saw the helicopter pull back, turning fast, then lower its nose and start away. But it was too late. Gus had hit the Stoneheart pilot, who slumped over with his hand still on the joystick.
The helicopter listed and plummeted, dropping to the corner of the quad on its side, crushing another vampire beneath it.
“Fuck yeah,” said Gus, watching it go down.
The helicopter then burst into flames. Remarkably, a vampire came crawling out of the wreckage, fully engulfed, and started moving toward them.
Gus felled it with a single burst to the head.
“Get in!” yelled Eph over the ringing in his ears.
Gus looked inside the vehicle, ready to defy Eph, not wanting to be told what to do. Gus wanted to stay and slay every single bloodsucker who had dared invade his turf.
But then Gus saw Nora with the muzzle of her gun at Creem’s neck. That intrigued him.
“What’s this?” said Gus.
Nora kicked open her door. “Just get in!”
Fet directed Eph east across Manhattan, then south to the low nineties and east again to the water’s edge. No helicopters, no sign of anyone following them. The bright yellow Hummer was a little too obvious, but they had no time to switch vehicles. Fet showed Eph where to park it, stashed inside an abandoned construction site.
They hurried to the ferry terminal. Fet had always eyed a tugboat docked there, in case of emergency. “And I guess this is it,” he said, stepping behind the controls as they boarded the boat, pushing off into the rough East River.
Eph had taken over watching Creem from Nora. Gus said, “Somebody better explain this.”
Nora said, “Creem was in league with the Master. He gave away our position. He brought the Master to us.”
Gus walked to Creem, holding on to the side of the rocking tug. “Is that true?”
Creem showed his silver teeth. He was more proud than afraid. “I made a deal, Mex. A good one.”
“You brought the bloodsuckers into my crib? To Joaquin?” Gus cocked his head, getting up into Creem’s face. He looked like he was about to go off. “They hang traitors, you piece of shit. Or put them up in front of a firing squad.”
“Well, you should know, hombre, that I wasn’t the only one.”
Creem smiled and turned to Eph. Gus looked his way, as did all the others. “Is there something else we don’t know about?” asked Gus.
Eph said, “The Master came to me through your mother. It offered me a deal for my boy. And I was crazy or weak or whatever you want to call me. But I considered it. I . . . I kept my options open. I know now that it was a no-win, but—”
“So your big plan,” Gus said. “Your brainstorm to offer the book up to the Master as a trap. That was no trap.”
“It was,” said Eph. “If it was going to work. I was playing both sides. I was desperate.”
“We’re all fucking desperate,” said Gus. “But none of us would turn on our own.”
“I’m being
honest here. I knew it was reprehensible. And I still considered it.”
At once, Gus charged at Eph with a silver knife in his hand. Mr. Quinlan, in a blaze of movement, got in front of him just in time, holding Gus back with a palm against his chest.
Gus said to Mr. Quinlan, “Let me at him. Let me kill him right now.”
Goodweather has something else to say.
Eph balanced himself against the motion of the boat, the lighthouse end of Roosevelt Island coming into view. He said, “I know where the Black Site is.”
Gus glared around Mr. Quinlan at him. “Bullshit,” he said.
“I saw it,” said Eph. “Creem knocked me out, and I had a vision.”
“You had a fucking dream?” said Gus. “He’s finally snapped! This guy is fucking insane!”
Eph had to admit it came out sounding more than a little crazy. He wasn’t sure how to convince them. “It was a . . . a revelation.”
“A traitor one minute, a fucking prophet the next!” said Gus, trying to get at Eph again.
“Listen,” said Eph. “I know how this sounds. But I saw things. An archangel came to me—”
“Oh fucking hell!” Gus said.
“—with great silver wings.”
Gus fought to get after him again, Mr. Quinlan intervening—only this time, Gus tried to fight the Born. Mr. Quinlan took the knife from Gus’s hand, nearly cracking his bones, then broke the knife in two and threw the pieces overboard.
Gus, gripping his sore hand, stood back from Mr. Quinlan like a kicked dog. “Fuck him, and his junkie bullshit!”
He wrestled with himself, like Jacob . . . like every leader ever to set foot on this earth. It is not faith that distinguishes our real leaders. It is doubt. Their ability to overcome it.
“The archangel . . . it showed me . . . ,” said Eph. “It took me there.”
“Took you where?” said Nora. “The site? Where is it?”
Eph feared the vision had started to fade from memory, like a dream. But it remained fixed in his consciousness, though Eph did not think it wise to repeat it now in great detail. “It’s on an island. One of many.”