“What about now?” he said. “Can you see me, or is there nothing more than shadow?”
The timbre of his voice hadn’t changed. There was nothing of the stress, or the sheer, depressive weight of the darkness that made every step a struggle, in his words.
“Nothing but shadow.”
“Odd. Wait there, and I’ll investigate the base of this crater to see if there’s anything more than old bones.”
“The owners of those bones are watching, so be respectful.”
“As much as I can be. Tell them I mean no disrespect.”
“You just did.”
“Oh.” His voice was farther away. I waited, tension gnawing at my belly, wondering what was going on, why he couldn’t see the darkness, and why it wasn’t reacting to him.
“Okay,” he said a few minutes later. “I’ve reached the bottom. There’s nothing here but the dead. There’s certainly nothing that resembles a false rift.”
“I’m coming down.” I hesitated, glancing at my ghosts. Wait here.
Concern whipped around me, but when I stepped toward the inky soup, they didn’t follow. In three strides I was within it. It folded around me, thick and heavy, a weight so fierce every step was a battle. Only determination kept me moving forward.
“Tiger?” Jonas said. His voice seemed to be coming from a long way away. “You still there?”
I stopped and tried not to breathe too deeply or too fast. The last thing I wanted was to draw in any more of the thick air than necessary. “Yes. Why?”
“You took three steps into the crater and disappeared. There’s something very strange happening here.”
“Obviously. I’ll meet you back at the rim.”
I retreated. Leaving was a hell of a lot easier. Cat and Bear zipped around me, happy to have me back so soon, then settled near my shoulder, their energy caressing me as I sat on my haunches and waited for Jonas to return.
He appeared out of the gloom like a ghost becoming solid. His gaze ran past me, his green eyes narrowing as he studied some point to the left. “The rift is but a few minutes away. It has slowed but not yet stopped.”
“Why is it you can sense the real rift and not the false one?”
His gaze came back to mine, his expression thoughtful. “I do not know. But we need to decide what we’re going to do soon if we do not want to be caught in the true rift’s mesh.”
“There’s only one thing we can do.” I waved a hand at the inky blanket. “You can’t see what I see, and I’d wager that means you won’t be able to use it, either.”
“Why don’t we test that theory out?” He held out a hand.
I hesitated, then placed my hand in his. His warm fingers enclosed mine as he turned and tugged me forward. Only this time, there was no darkness, no weight, nothing but the eroded walls of the old crater and the bleached, white remnants of the dead at its base.
“There is definitely magic of some kind at work here,” I muttered, “because when I’m holding your hand, I can’t see anything but what is physically here.”
“One more test, then.” He released my hand. Instantly, the darkness descended and the light disappeared. I swore softly, but a heartbeat later, Jonas caught my fingers and once again the shadows fled.
“Whatever magic it is,” he said, expression grim as he tugged me back toward the rim, “it appears you can both see it and react to it, but I cannot—even when we touch.”
“Unfortunately, as I said earlier, that also means you’re unlikely to be able to use the false rift that undoubtedly lies at the base of this place.”
“Yes.” Frustration fairly sizzled through that one short word. His gaze met mine. “What do you intend to do?”
“Go down there, of course. We need to find where the other children are, and this might just take us—or me—to them.”
His smile was grim. “I do not think it’ll be that easy.”
Neither did I, but that didn’t stop me hoping. “It might be worth getting Nuri down here. She may be able to unravel the threads of magic within this crater, or at least tell us where it might have originated from—here, or from the other side of the rifts.”
He nodded and cast another glance over his shoulder. “We’re out of time. The rift will be here in two minutes. I cannot stay. I will wait for you by the grate tomorrow morning.” He paused, his expression hinting at anger again. “It would be advisable to let me in if you do not wish me to create a ruckus and draw unwanted attention to your retreat.”
“Don’t be early,” I warned. “I’m meeting a friend tonight, remember.”
“I remember.” He took a step away, then paused again, meeting my gaze as he added, “Be wary.”
“I will.”
He walked away. I watched him for several seconds, admiring his lean outline and purposeful strides, then said softly, “Bear, Cat, follow him. Let me know everything he does, but make sure you get home by dusk.” The other little ones would worry, otherwise, especially after last night’s attack.
Their excitement kissed the air as they spun off after Jonas. I took another of those deep breaths that did little to calm the fear deep inside, then reached once more for the shifting magic. I had a bad feeling I’d need all the strength I could get; holding a form that wasn’t mine was little more than a waste. At least until I knew what waited for me beyond the darkness of this rift.
The magic rose like a storm. I held my own image steady in my mind as my skin rippled, bones restructured, hair shortened and changed color. It still hurt, still burned. It always did, no matter how often I’d done it in the past. I gritted my teeth against the scream and did my best to ignore the sweat pouring down my altering flesh.
Then, finally, when the magic faded and I was once more as I was made, I stepped into the darkness. It felt ten times worse than it had only moments before. It was almost as if the magic sensed that this time, I intended to go all the way through it. It seemed heavier, more gelatinous; its thick strands resisted every step forward before they snapped, their fractured ends tearing at my flesh as they fell away. I have no idea how long it actually took to get through the barrier, but it seemed like forever. Even when I finally came to the base of the crater and broke free from the darkness, my sense of time and daylight was still scrambled. Whatever the magic was, it was playing merry havoc with that instinctive part of me.
For several minutes I did nothing more than stand there, sucking in air and waiting for the weakness in my limbs to retreat. The dark energy behind me crawled across my spine, but it was the energy in front of me that was sharper, more dangerous.
There was, as I’d suspected, another false rift here, and it was bigger than the one I’d gone through the previous day. It spun slowly on its axis, shimmering in the shadows, its surface regularly crisscrossed with jagged spears of lightning. The energy of them slashed the air and littered my skin with angry-looking welts. The cost of traveling through this rift was going to be far higher than yesterday’s, but if I wanted answers, then I had to go in.
I drew my gun, flicked off the safety, and strode forward. The jagged lightning peeled away from the surface of the slowly rotating sphere and struck at me, drawing blood as it wrapped itself around my arms and my legs, first capturing me and then dragging me toward the sphere. Dust spun around me, thick and foul and filled with bone and jagged metal pieces—the remnants of the people and the buildings that had once stood here, no doubt. As the sphere encased me, its energy burned around me, touching every part of me before it slowly, carefully, tore me apart, atom by atom. It was agony itself, and if I could have screamed, I would have. There was no sense of movement this time, just blackness in which there was no light, no sound, no sense of life. Just pain and the feeling that my particles were being stretched to the breaking point. Then, piece by piece, the energy put me back together, the lightning holding me died, and I was ejected into darkness.
I stumbled for several steps, then, as my legs gave way, fell full-length onto a surface that was hard, grit
ty, and cold. And that’s where I stayed, panting, groaning, my body on fire and the scent of blood thick in the icy air. I don’t know how long I remained there, desperately trying to ease the inferno of pain sweeping through me, before I heard it.
A whisper of sound.
A footstep.
My breath caught in my throat and my fingers clenched around my gun. The thick darkness was again still, silent. But it was not without scent, and that scent was old and rank.
And filled with vampires.
Chapter 8
If the richness and depth of that scent was anything to go by, there weren’t just a few vampires here, but a whole lot—maybe even a nest full. Most weren’t close, but one, at least, must have caught the smell of my blood and had come to investigate. He was off to my left, in the deeper shadows near the filth-covered walls.
So why wasn’t he attacking? If he’d been close enough to smell my blood, then he was close enough to have caught the beat of my heart and sense my humanity. Restraint was not something I’d ever associated with vampires before, and it filled me with foreboding.
But it also gave me a fighting chance of survival. Not that I intended to fight. If there were as many vampires here as the scent stinging the air suggested, then that would be nothing short of stupidity. I drew the darkness deep into my lungs and let it filter through every fiber, until it felt as if my whole body was vibrating with the weight and power of it. The vampire within me rose swiftly to the surface, embracing that darkness, becoming one with it, until it stained my whole being and took over. It ripped away flesh, muscle, and bone, until I was nothing more than a cluster of matter. Even my weapons and clothes became part of the night and the darkness. In this form, at least, I’d be harder to pin down and nigh on impossible to feed on—or so my makers had said. It was a theory I’d never actually tested.
And, as I’d said to Jonas, there were vampires who fed on energy. I just had to hope there were none of those in this place.
I pushed away from the hard, grimy floor and moved forward. Though I had good night sight in my normal form, as matter the night was as bright as day, though it was a day without color. Everything was black and white, and inverse to what it normally would have been.
The room the false rift had spat me into was long and thin, reminding me somewhat of a corridor. I had no idea what lay beyond the rift itself, because it gleamed with a fire that was almost blinding. At the opposite end of the room lay the bent and broken remains of a metal door. Between it and me waited the vampire. In the inverse light, he was little more than a cluster of softly gleaming particles. He didn’t move, didn’t react, though I had no doubt he was as aware of my presence as I was of his.
It was a weird situation—and one that could change for the worse at any moment. For whatever reason, this vampire was restraining his instinctive urge to attack, and I had to make use of it.
I moved forward purposely, as if I had every right to be here. Anything else could be my downfall.
The vampire stirred. Mistress? His voice was scratchy, guttural, and something I sensed through my particles rather than actually heard—telepathy rather than spoken words. But the mere fact I was hearing him at all had shock rebounding through me. Never once had my makers—or anyone else, for that matter—ever suggested that vamps were capable of any kind of legible, intelligent speech. You wish accompaniment?
Why would he call me “mistress”? Who was he mistaking me for? Surely not another vampire? He’d been in this room when I’d shifted from flesh to shadow, and would be aware that I wasn’t a true vampire.
Then I remembered the dark force I’d sensed when I’d rescued Penny, and the feeling that the actions of the vampires were being controlled. This “mistress,” whoever she was, might be the force I’d sensed.
But the Carleen ghosts had said wraiths used these rifts, not vampires, and that suggested that the two might be working together. It was a possibility that had chills racing through me. If it was true, Central was in deeper trouble than we’d initially thought. Although, how in hell had the wraiths learned common tongue—a language that these days was used in all but a few provincial outposts? I had no doubt wraiths were intelligent, but why would they bother learning our language when we were nothing but prey to them?
And how were they even speaking when they had no mouths to form words?
But then, everyone had believed vampires incapable of speech, too, and that was very obviously wrong.
Maybe that was what they’d wanted the children for. Maybe they were somehow siphoning language skills from them. But if that was the case, why choose children? Why not adults?
The vampire’s matter stirred, and I realized he was waiting for an answer. No. I kept my mental tones low and scratchy, and kept mental fingers crossed it was a close enough imitation of whomever he was mistaking me for. I wish aloneness.
So be it. He melted away into the whiteness.
I didn’t relax. One vampire might have let me be, but there were many others out there in the inverse night, and who knew what they might do?
I contemplated the broken door for a moment, then moved toward it. It was aeons old, thick with rust and slime. It also looked military grade—the same grade and design that was everywhere in my bunker.
Only trouble was, there were no other bunkers near Central, so where the hell was I? And why had the wraiths brought the children through here? Surely they hadn’t been kept here—with the vampires present that would have been a little too like tying down a lamb and expecting the wolves not to attack.
I flowed over the broken door and moved into the whiteness beyond. The room again resembled a corridor, but this time there were various doors leading off it. Some were closed, some not. Most were empty, but from several came the thick sensation of vampire. There was no sense of awareness coming from their direction, which, I guess, was another point in my favor. While it was darker than night down here, it was still day above. Vampires generally slept when the sun was up. Given I could feel nothing other than vampires close by, I quickly moved on, anxious not to incite the interest of the vamps that slept here.
The corridor ended in a T intersection. There was a sign on the wall, but the writing had long given way to grime and was all but indecipherable. Only the tip of an arrow pointing to the left stood out. I followed its lead and headed that way, if only because the bulk of vampire scent seemed to be coming from the right. The corridor widened and the walls on either side gave way to thick windows. The wide rooms beyond them were filled with the broken remnants of uterine pods, tiny medibeds, and various other machines. My stomach—or what there was of it in this form—began to knot. This was looking more and more like the laboratories in my bunker. The laboratories in which they’d taken samples, testing and retesting the DNA of their latest batch of freshly birthed creations to ensure the health and viability of each before all were sent on to postnatal care.
This had to have been a déchet bunker—but which one? I knew of only three: Central had been the smallest, with the biggest near the port town of Crow’s Point, and another deep in the Broken Mountains. I couldn’t imagine vampires haunting that place, as there wasn’t much in the way of hunting up there—not when it came to easy pickings, anyway. There were shifter communities living there now, but they tended to be nomadic in nature, and therefore had little need of the sewerage and service tunnels that had made life so much easier for the vampires in many human communities, even in this day and age. There might be plenty of cities as protected as Central, but not everyone lived in such places, and many of these smaller communities were as ill prepared as Chaos when it came to the vampires.
I continued on. Up ahead, the darkness began to grow, which in this inverse lighting meant actual light rather than darkness. Which was confusing, as any sort of light was dangerous to vampires.
And if the wraiths were working with the vampires, at least in some capacity, why would they have any part of this place lit up so brightly? They hat
ed it as much as the vampires.
As I drew closer to the light, the darkness within me began to unravel. Muscle and bone found structure and re-formed, until I was once again fully fleshed. The scanner to the right of the heavy metal door beeped as I approached, then slid open. What it revealed was a fully functioning laboratory.
I stood outside the door for a moment, scanning the wide room, letting the feel of it wash over me. There were no ghosts in this place, no scents other than antiseptic. Metal examination tables gleamed, and the medibeds that lined the far wall—six in all—made mine look like something out of the Stone Age.
I took a step, then froze as red light flared from either side of the doorway and scanned me. A heartbeat later an alarm went off, the sound sharp and strident in the silence.
I spun and raced back into the darkness, gathering it around me as quickly as I could. Ahead, in the corridor beyond the T intersection, vampires began to stir. I couldn’t risk staying here. Couldn’t risk having them realize I was not one of them. There had to be at least two score of them here, if that stirring sense of evil was anything to go by. I’d barely survived an attack by one score—and even then only with the help of my little ghosts. Two score was death, pure and simple.
I came to the T intersection and surged to the right. The vampires in the long corridor had come to life; their energy milled, and their confusion and uncertainty stained the air. I controlled my own fear and slowed my headlong pace. To get through, to survive, I had to make them believe I belonged here—that I was whoever that first vampire thought I was.
Mistress? A different tone, harsher and scratchier than the first. Problem?
Alarm fault, I growled back. I go get others.
The energy of them parted slightly, leaving me a slender pathway to the room with the false rift. I took a deep mental breath and moved through them, feeling their wrongness slither through every part of my being.
If I could feel them, they could undoubtedly feel me.
Tension ran through my particles, and all I wanted to do was run—the one thing I couldn’t do when in the midst of them.