Vampire a Go-Go

1601

Kelley looked at the cousin’s smooth face again. Had he deserved to die so young? Was he a good person? Kelley had never met him in life. Maybe God had selected him for death. Perhaps he was wicked and cruel, and it was a kindness to the world to be rid of him. Who was Kelley to decide his life or death? Kelley tried to convince himself he wasn’t deciding anything. Roderick had built the machine. Rudolph had given the orders.

Kelley was simply pulling the levers.

“What’s happening over there?” Rudolph called from behind the wall.

Kelley frowned, ignoring the emperor.

The alchemist circled to the other side of the dais, where a row of twenty levers connected to gears and pulleys and flywheels. He pulled the first lever, and the sound of rushing water filled the cavern. The waterwheel turned, slowly at first, then more rapidly. The other levers determined the order of the lenses, the flow of light, lowering the whole apparatus. It all had to be done in the exact order. Kelley had been over the scribbled instructions in his journal a thousand times. He knew the procedure by heart.

“Do you hear me?” shouted the emperor. “What’s happening?”

Shut up, you lunatic. I’m working.

Kelley began to pull levers. The lenses lowered, surrounded the table. Overhead, gears meshed. Powered by the waterwheel, they began to spin. The big lens in the middle lowered until it was directly over the emperor’s cousin, three feet from his chest. Portals opened overhead. Sunlight from above, reflected and reflected through lenses and mirrors, poured through the shafts, struck the lenses brilliantly white.

Kelley had expected it, but he flinched anyway.

Rudolph stuck his head around the corner and squinted into the light. “Damn you, alchemist. Don’t you hear me talking to you?”

“If you want to live, Highness, get back behind the protective barrier.”

Rudolph frowned but ducked back behind the lead wall.

Arrogant fool. Hatred and resentment swelled within Kelley. Who was this insane ruler to defy the will of God, to squander the resources of an empire for his mad schemes? How many had died and suffered for Rudolph’s vanity? Kelley’s need to defy the emperor compelled him at that moment like no other force on earth, his need to rebel palpable.

Kelley glanced back over his shoulder. Rudolph and his men could not see him, would not witness what he was about to do. Roderick’s words floated through Kelley’s mind. Everything must be exact. Perfect. The smallest thing can ruin it all, prevent the light beams from flowing properly.

Kelley put his hand down the back of his pants and stuck his thumb up his own ass. He wiggled it around where it was moist and warm. He brought his hand out again, then stuck his thumb in the dead center of the lens hanging over the emperor’s cousin. Kelley’s every thought was bent on hatred for Rudolph. Kelley mashed his thumb hard against the glass, leaving a big, greasy thumbprint.

Fuck your immortality.

Not my most mature moment. But effective.

It seems the sweat and fecal matter had hardened over the years, the thumbprint crystallizing on the surface of the lens. Such a small thing, the tiniest imperfection. But it caused the beam to be off, kept the lens from doing its job exactly right. Roderick would have been able to explain the physics, would have been able to talk of particles and waves. I only know what happened in the simplest terms.

I fucked things up.