Vintage soul

SIXTEEN

The tower room was very dark, and Vanessa was weak. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the walls around her listlessly. There had been no further visits from her captor, and other than the short blast of hope she’d felt when Vein and the others had rushed in, there had been no break in the utter solitude. She thought about Johndrow and wondered where he was. She wondered if he, too, would come crashing through the door eventually. She thought not. More likely he and the council had hired someone to do the work. It was their way to hold back in the shadows and act only when all other avenues were closed to them. It was her way too — or had been.

She wondered briefly what had happened to the others. She had no doubt it was bad. She tried not to think of all the ways they could have been destroyed, but there was no other game to occupy her mind. She had several lifetimes of memories, but none of them comforted her. She still felt the bond with Vein, so they were close by, but it seemed unlikely any of them would last much longer.

The silence was broken by a grinding whirr that came from the wall at her back. She felt a vibration deep in the stone, and she shivered. She’d heard it once before, and a glance to the side confirmed that the chains binding her had begun to retract slowly into the wall. She rose quickly. She knew she couldn’t break the chains, but she had to try, and there was no time to waste. If she let them grow too short she’d have no leverage.

Vanessa pressed herself to the wall, leaned down, and kicked her feet hard against the stone. She launched forward, hit the floor running, and shot to the end of the chains with incredible speed. She hit the end of the restraints and pushed harder. It was like slamming into a wall, but she threw herself into it. She heard a groan of machinery from somewhere below, and thought, just for an instant that she might do it. The chains were so taut they thrummed. Then she slid back half an inch, and another. She strained against the inexorable pull, but it was no use. Within moments the chains had fully retracted, and she hung helplessly, spread eagled against the wall.

The outer door opened again, and her captor stepped inside. He carried a leather bag in one hand, and he placed this on the floor, closed the door, and then turned to smile at her.

“Bravo,” he said, clapping his hands mockingly. “That was an astonishing display of speed and strength; and yet, at the same time it was a waste of time. You must have known the chains were enchanted. I took very special precautions with you, studied your kind for years before I set the spells. I assure you, the restraints are more than adequate.”

Vanessa continued to struggle, but she was weak from the lack of fresh blood, and it was difficult to fight back the rage that threatened to consume rational thought. He was so close she could smell him. She tasted the tang of his blood through his clothing and his skin, and she remembered that taste. It was powerful blood, old and rich, and despite her captivity and impending final death, she craved it.

He stepped closer and examined her carefully, as if she were a horse, or an animal he intended to purchase. Vanessa shook with fury, and as he leaned in close she snapped at the air, closing her fangs on nothing but his scent.

He laughed. Stepping around her, he pulled a small control box from his pocket. He pressed a button. The wall behind her made another sound, and before she was fully aware of what had happened, a steel collar slid out of the wall on either side of her throat and clamped in front. Now her head was all but immobile. He reached out and stroked her hair. He ran his hand down her cheek and teased one long, manicured fingernail over her chin, then slid it back along the top edge of the collar. She trembled at the touch and tried to shift her jaws nearer to his flesh, but the collar held her easily

“That should do,” he said at last. “Our time together has grown short, and I can’t afford to have you whipping around and making a nuisance of yourself. I’m sure you understand. This isn’t about you, after all, lovely as you are. It’s about life. My life, to be precise. I intend to make it last a long time, you see, and you are going to help. I need something that you have, and once I have it, the formula I create will make me immortal.”

Vanessa’s eyes flashed with anger and he laughed again.

“Oh, not like what you possess,” he said. “What you have is a great gift, there’s no doubt of it. To live forever, as long as you are able to borrow the blood of others to keep you young; it’s a concept worthy of hours of debate and certainly better than the mortal alternative. You do have your weaknesses, though, don’t you, Vanessa? You miss out on all that fine sunlight, for one thing. You can’t appreciate a good steak or a cold beer without flavoring it with fresh blood. There is so much more to life as I know it; why would I willingly give it up when there is an alternative?”

Vanessa tried to shake her head in negation, but she was held still and helpless. He smiled at her again.

“Aren’t you curious?” he asked. “I’d have thought you’d spend your last few moments asking questions. For instance, what happened to your friends who tried to break in and save you so valiantly, or, what are you going to do with me? I know I’d be thinking about those things if it was me chained to the wall.

“We have a little time,” he continued, “so I’ll go ahead and tell you. It will pass the time.”

As he spoke, he turned away from her and walked back to where he’d left the leather bag. He retrieved it and placed it on the bed where she’d been sitting moments before. He unsnapped the top and began to remove the contents one item at a time. As he pulled each free, he examined it carefully.

From where she hung bound to the wall, Vanessa couldn’t see what he did clearly. In the periphery of her sight she saw him pull something long and flexible free of the bag. She heard a sharp clinking sound as something made contact with glass. He worked steadily, paying no attention to her at all as he organized and manipulated the items on the bed. When he had finished, he turned to her again, and the smile was back on his face. It was not a pleasant expression, but had the slick, oily aspect of a serpent.

Vanessa closed her eyes. She had no idea what he was planning, and she didn’t believe there was any chance she could do anything to stop him, but if she lost her mind, he would win without a struggle. If she let him frighten her to the point where her mind snapped, there would be no return from it. She also needed to snap free of his scent. She knew, now, that the blood he’d fed her was not his own. It hadn’t been fresh, and with the weakness of her captivity dulling her senses, she’d just assumed that it was. Now she felt the draw of his lifeblood and knew she’d never tasted it — never would taste it — and its proximity drove sharp talons into her concentration, shredding it.

With a great effort, she spoke.

“What have you done with the young ones?”

His oily smile became a toothy grin.

“Oh, they’re still around,” he said. “I have them very close by, in fact. You’d think I’d be angry with them after breaking in here unannounced and trying to disrupt my plans, but I’m a generous man. I have a surprise for them, a treat they wouldn’t get anywhere else. I’m going to share some of what I was just talking about with them.”

Vanessa thought hard, trying to remember what he’d said.

“The sunlight,” he said casually. “I’m going to give them the first sight of the morning sun they’ve had in quite some time. I can’t imagine when the last time you saw that was — what are you, three, four centuries old? But these others…they remember. It hasn’t been so long since all the pleasures of life were ripped away from them and dangled like carrots on a string, just out of reach. I haven’t spoken with them about it, but I would be willing to bet they remember what it’s like to greet the sunrise. I bet they even remember well enough to miss it. “

“Where…” She couldn’t finish the question. She’d felt the touch of dawn once since her transformation. It had burned much hotter than any fire she recalled from life, and had nearly ended her existence. She remembered, and she hoped with sudden clarity that her memory, and her sudden flash of terror, wouldn’t transfer to Vein across their bond. Better that he not know what awaited.

Her captor stepped close to her again, placed his hands on her cheeks and gazed into her eyes.

“They will only get to see it once, of course,” he said softly. “I’m certain I’ll have to have a cleaning crew in for the elevator once it’s done.”

Vanessa gritted her teeth and strained against her bonds in frustration. He stroked her cheeks, and then his hands slid down to the metal band around her throat. She tried to glance down at his hands, but she couldn’t see what he was doing.

“Don’t worry, “he said, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “It won’t take long. I’m sure they’ll be brave and not cower in the back of that elevator. I’m sure they won’t try to cling to the ceiling like bats, clawing their way over one another to the back corners, out of the light. I’m sure they’ll stand and face the light like warriors.”

Vanessa began to tremble, but she fought it. She didn’t want him to see her lose control, not in anger, and certainly not in fear.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I wondered when you’d get to that,” he replied. “This is a very special day for you. I put a lot of time and effort into this room, and into your restraints. This collar, for instance, is more than it appears to be.”

He fumbled with something in the center of the metal band, but she still couldn’t see what he was doing. There was a soft click, like a button being depressed, or a spring releasing. He saw that she didn’t understand, so he leaned in again. This time he lowered his head so his lips were even with the metal band.

Vanessa felt a cool breeze on the skin of her throat. It should not have been possible, circled as she was in steel, but she felt it all the same. Her eyes widened.

He raised his head and met her gaze. She tried desperately in that second to reach out to him with her mind. She could do it, had done it a thousand times. She found some nerve; some cord buried deep in a man’s thoughts, twisted it, and used it to draw him to her. She reached out and, just for a second, as their eyes locked, she felt something. She concentrated her will, but he shook his head, as if to clear cobwebs, and stepped back.

“Amazing,” he said. “I would have thought you were too weak for that, and that I was too well blocked. You are strong.”

He returned to the bed and picked something up. Vanessa squirmed in her bonds and tried to see what it was, but he kept it blocked from her view with his body until he stood before her once more.

“I’m going to enjoy this very much,” he told her. He held up a long, slender tube. It was made of metal, and apparently coated in silver. Vanessa shuddered and drew back. He paid no attention to her. Instead, he returned to the bed again, and this time he brought back a length of plastic tubing, and a flask. A final trip to the bed, and he was ready.

He held up the silver tube again, and as she watched he slid the end of the plastic tubing over one end of the metal. Next he placed the other end in the neck of the large flask and placed this on the floor beneath Vanessa’s manacled feet. He straightened, slid his hand into his pocket, and retrieved a round, black piece of rubber. Vanessa didn’t know what it was, but the fear had built within her once more, and her mind thoughts dove inward, seeking some place deep, safe place to hide.

He tapped a finger on the center of the tube.

“It’s really a very simple device,” he said. “There’s a hole at both ends and a third opening here in the center. When I slide this pump over the center,” he poked the tube into one end of the black rubber circle and it slid through, protruding now from either end, “it forms a primitive siphon.”

He squeezed the rubber ball. The plastic tube jumped as air, drawn through the tube, was forced down toward the flask below. It was then that she noticed the tip of the tube. It was hollow, like the end that had been inserted into the plastic tube, but it was also cut at a wicked, forty-five degree angle. It came to a sharp point at the tip, and then angled back.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“That isn’t important anymore,” he said softly. “Very soon all that you are will be a part of me. Very soon your blood — or should I say, the blood you have borrowed for so long — will be mine. All of it. You will cease to exist, and your worries over the “young ones” as you call them, and over old Johndrow, will be at an end. You will no longer hunger, and you will no longer lust. You will be mine in the truest sense those words have ever been spoken.”

He slid the end of the tube into the hole in the center of the band of steel. Vanessa screamed then. She screamed and she spat, and she tried desperately to struggle, but it made no difference. The cold, hard silver tube slid through the collar neatly and pressed against the soft skin of her throat — then pierced her cleanly. Transfixed, she tried to catch his gaze and make him pull it out, but she could not. He stood very still, watching her as she hung there, back arched against the stone wall, eyes rolling back like those of a mad animal. Then, without another word, he began to very slowly squeeze the rubber ball.

He didn’t hurry. At first the blood flowed erratically, but the even pumping motion of his hand squeezing that black rubber ball took on the mesmerizing rhythm of a heartbeat. She heard it as her thoughts grew fuzzy. She recognized it, though it had been more than three centuries since she’d felt such a pulse through her own veins. She tried to scream again. She fought up through the thickening darkness that engulfed her mind, but it was too hard. Her limbs were heavy and hung limp in their bonds. Her eyelids fluttered, drooped, snapped open, and then finally closed.

She felt his fingers on her cheek again, stroking her. He played with her hair, and she thought he was whispering something. She tried to hear it, and to understand the words, but she couldn’t wrap her tired mind around the task. The words had the same rhythm as the pulse she felt, and that grew weaker each second. She felt cold as she had never felt. Ice seemed to coat her skin, which was suddenly very thin and brittle.

She thought about Johndrow. For a moment, with her eyes closed, she imagined it was his touch on her cheek, though she knew it was not. She knew what was happening to her, but no longer had the strength to even think about it. The irony of it struck her, though. She knew how Preston Johndrow would have coveted a drop or two of the blood flowing so freely from her — something he could preserve in a bottle of Merlot, or perhaps a smooth cognac, to be shared at some point, far in the future.

Then even these thoughts faded, and she grew very still.

On the wall, across the room, a colored crystal glowed brightly, then faded, and then glowed again. Looking up from his work, Vanessa’s captor caught the signal, and smiled. He watched the end of the plastic tube carefully. The flow had slowed to a very thin trickle. He gave a last squeeze, and then let the rubber expand in his hand. There was a last dribble, and he heard a soft hiss.

He turned to the wall. What hung from the manacles and the collar was a husk. Dry, paper-thin skin coated brittle bones. Where Vanessa’s beautiful eyes had reached out to snare him, black pits gaped. A quick swipe of his hand would have reduced her remnant to a pile of ash, but there was no time.

He quickly stoppered the bottle and stowed his equipment in the bag. The vial he wrapped carefully in two layers of satin before placing it in the bag, as well. Then he turned toward the doorway, and exited the room, leaving it open behind him.

Once in the hall, he didn’t go far. He rounded the corner and pressed a button on the wall when he reached the end. The wall slid aside, and he stared into the elevator compartment. Vein and the others were crouched near him, staring at the far wall, where the glass window overlooked the city. The night was fading, and they must have sensed the approach of dawn. When they heard the panel slide open, they whirled. He watched them with detached curiosity.

Vein stepped up to the window. He didn’t try to break through — it was pointless, and the silver mesh imbedded in the glass would have sliced him to ribbons if, by some impossible chance, he found a way to fracture the glass.

“Where is Vanessa?” Vein asked. There was a tremble in his voice, not exactly fear, but close. “I felt…something. Where have you taken her?”

Their captor didn’t answer them. He set the bag he carried on the ground at his feet. He opened it carefully and pulled out the satin-wrapped flask. Without a word he unwound the satin and held it up so that the blood glistened in the dim light of the hallway.

Vein’s features melted through emotions, starting with shock and ending in rage. All pretenses at calm forgotten, he slammed into the glass. The elevator shook from the force, and he reared back, slamming into it again. The others gripped his arms, but he flung them aside, crashing into the barrier with more and more force. All the while his tormenter stood very still, holding the flask of blood in his hand reverently. Finally, with a supreme effort, Bruno and Shade managed to pin Vein’s arms, and Kali wrapped her arms around him from behind, holding him away from the glass. It was smeared with his blood, and though the cuts were healing fast, the gory remnant remained.

Cradling the flask carefully, their tormentor laughed softly. “Very touching,” he said. “Such a moment we’re having. Say goodbye to her. I wish I could tell you she was going to a better place or that her spirit would rest, but I don’t know that for certain. I know where this is going,” he held up the blood, “but that won’t matter to you for very long. Can you feel it? The sun? It will rise in less than an hour, and it won’t be much longer after that when it reaches this side of the building.

“You might find a way to break out the glass, but I doubt you can survive the fall, and even if you could, you’d be sliced up by the silver mesh. I think I’ve thought of just about everything, but if you find your way out and down somehow, please, by all means sneak back in and we’ll do this again.

“One thing,” he wrapped the flask of blood carefully and stowed it back in the bag. “When you come back, I won’t be quite like I am now. I’ll even be a little bit more like you, I think, except for that whole undead thing. I’ll be as alive as I am now, and a thousand years from now, I’ll be able to say the same.”

He turned, glanced over his shoulder, and added. “You know, I’m really going to miss you guys.”

Vein saw the man press a button on the wall, and the panel slid back into place, hiding the interior of the building from view. He spun in his follower’s grasp and would have made a dive for the window on the far side, but they’d had a chance to adjust their grips, and they held him back.

“No,” Kali whispered in his ear. “There may be a way, but that isn’t it.”

Vein shook with anger. His sight had glazed with the red, killing bloodlust that threatened just below the surface of his mind, dormant by day and very close to the surface by night. He knew she was right, but he didn’t want to listen. He wanted to bash himself against that window, again and again, until it either shattered, or the force of his blows shook the entire elevator free of the building and sent it plummeting to the earth. They could survive that, if the glass held, and they didn’t slam through the silver mesh on impact.

In the East, still far below the skyline, but rising, the sun began its slow transit. They all felt it, and they knew, even if they managed to calm Vein’s rage, that they would burn, caged like rats, unless they found a way to break out. Far below headlights began rolling down the streets. Lights flickered on, and horns blew. As they hung, awaiting death, San Valencez came to life, unaware of the drama playing out far above — oblivious to the world of night.