Blood-Kissed Sky (Darkness Before Dawn) (25 page)

“Then maybe you have information on another problem we’re facing: the Thirst.”

“Ah, yes, the vampire plague. Trust me, its dangers are vastly exaggerated.”

“Not based on what we’ve seen.”

“Well, then, perhaps you simply need to understand it as we do.” He presses the intercom button on his desk. “Julie, please send in Simon.”

“Yes, Mr. Matheson.”

He looks back at me. “Simon is our resident scientist. He’s been studying this Thirst for some time now.”

He stands up and walks over to the window. “Please, join me while we wait. Take a look at our wonderful, walled sanctuary.”

I stand next to him and see little wonderful about it. If this epicenter were all I’d seen, maybe. But the Outer Ring is so rancid, how could anyone describe it as wonderful? And as much as I’d like to say exactly that, I have to put on my delegate hat.

“When we came in, I noticed the Outer Ring wasn’t up to the standards I see down below. It seems a shame that so many must live on so little.”

“It was their choice. We expect certain behavior here. Those who fail to comply—” He shakes his head. “Consider them the rabble-rousers, the disobedient, the refuse of society. They brought their suffering upon themselves, Miss Montgomery. Life is about choices and they chose … poorly.”

They’ve managed to escape the control of vampires, but I’m not sure they’ve managed to create a Utopia. Denver, somehow, seems better. From up here, the walls are in a clearer perspective and I can see their tops. They stretch to such an amazing width, they could build another city across them.

“It took twenty years to erect those,” he says. “That was the benefit of surrendering so early in the war. While the rest of the country was fighting a losing battle, we did the smart thing. We signed an unofficial treaty with the Carrolltons. We started building the wall as a ‘defense against the occasional unruly vampire,’ as we described it. Really, we were preparing for the inevitable. But Lord Carrollton was so busy with the war and fighting everyone else, he didn’t notice until it was too late. The wall, which started a few feet high, grew until it was larger than the city itself. Now look at us. We’re free to live our lives without fear. No one else in the country can do that. All their bravery and all their optimism bought them nothing in the end.”

“I didn’t realize cowardice was a virtue,” Ian says.

I see a flash of anger in Matheson’s eyes. It quickly disappears, swallowed back inside, which somehow makes it even more frightening. Like it was never meant to surface in the first place.

“You have become a soldier without a war, Mr. Hightower,” Matheson says, not even bothering to look at Ian, to give him the courtesy of eye contact. “But we were realistic. The fight couldn’t be won. You can talk about cowardice, but my citizens still have their children. In other cities, such as Denver, for example, how many people talk about losing their sons and daughters in the war? How many of them are broken? Look them in the eyes and tell them that their child died for a noble cause, and then have them look at the world they’re living in. They died for nothing.”

The door to the office opens and someone who is no doubt Simon steps in, tearing us away from a conversation that was only going to serve up hard feelings. He’s wearing a lab coat with a pocket protector and pens, thick black-rimmed glasses, and his hair is in desperate need of combing.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” he asks, his voice noticeably wheezy.

“Yes, Simon. Miss Montgomery has been asking about the Thirst. And since you are the expert, I decided you could help clear things up for her.”

“Of course,” he says. “Come with me.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Montgomery. I do hope you enjoy your stay and I’m sure we’ll cross paths again.”

I do little more than give him a nod. I have a feeling that he’s dismissing me and my concerns. Fine. I can discover what I need to know without this bloated jester.

Simon takes us to the elevator. We ride down for so long that we must be underground by the time it stops. When it opens, we enter a completely white room with doors branching off, and test tubes and equipment occupying clean, black slab tables.

Simon immediately removes his coat, revealing surprisingly ripped biceps; takes off his glasses; and quickly slicks his hair back. When he turns toward us, he looks nothing like he did. He looks, well, good. Hot, even.

Tegan blinks her eyes as though she’s not sure what she’s looking at now. “Why would you choose to look so … so—”

“Different? Sorry about that,” he says, his voice deep and minus the annoying wheeze. “It’s all about image here, you know? The closer you are to the center, especially. I applied for this job two years ago and they didn’t accept me. I came in looking like a dork and I was immediately hired; they didn’t even look at my résumé.”

“You have to meet their expectations,” Ian says.

“Precisely. We’re all movie clichés. Our historical books and documents didn’t make it out of the war, but our massive film archives did, and they’ve served as a crude blueprint. Anyway, we’re going this way.”

Walking through several doors I see more equipment and have the sneaking suspicion that, like Simon’s glasses, it’s all fake or at least nonfunctional.

At a strikingly polished metal door, Simon holds up a key card and rubs it against the electronic pad. The light turns green and the door opens.

The room is like all the others: testing equipment, computer monitors, clean and neat surfaces, the smell of sanitizers. But against the wall is a cell containing a monster. I have no doubt that this vampire is one of the Infected. Just like Brady. Just like the ones on the train. And the only thing separating him from us is very thick, clear glass.

Tegan releases a tiny screech, and I realize she has never had a chance to really see an Infected up close. She digs her fingers into Michael’s arm.

“Don’t worry, the prison is completely impenetrable,” Simon says. “Even an Infected vampire doesn’t have the strength to break through.”

I take a step closer—

“Dawn, don’t—”

“I’m fine, Tegan.” I can sense that Michael is conflicted. He probably wants a close-up look as well, wants to do his job and guard me, but he can’t leave Tegan when she’s so obviously frightened. “Michael, stay with her.”

I see the relief in his eyes that I’ve taken charge here, that I’ve given an order. Ian is beside me, his hand wrapped around a holstered stake.

“The pitch-black eyes,” Simon says with a measure of admiration in his voice, like someone commenting on a beautiful butterfly instead of a hideous creature. “The engorged jaw and teeth. The long, tough nails. All clear signs of the Thirst. They go from dangerous as vampires, to absolutely deadly when the Thirst kicks in. It’s like they become designed to kill and do nothing else.”

“Tell me everything you know,” I say, staring at the creature, who surveys the group before focusing his attention solely on me. A chill shivers down my spine. Goose bumps rise on my flesh. If I didn’t know better, I would think he knew who I was.

Simon walks very close to the cell, but is completely comfortable, having observed this creature for a long time. He tells us that the Thirst is activated after a vampire drinks too much vampire blood within too short a time span. As far as he knows, different vampires have different tolerances.

“For some it takes only once, for others it takes once a week over an entire year. It’s a lot like an infection in humans. Some just have stronger immune systems than others.”

“What about Old Family? How long would it take to affect them?”

“I hadn’t even thought about that,” he says. “But it must take ages. I hate to think about an Old Family vampire infected with the Thirst. Imagine how powerful he’d become.”

He’s lost in his own thoughts for a moment, his scientific mind maybe crunching numbers, visualizing how it would be in an advanced calculus equation. But he shakes out of it.

“Anyway, I’ve been observing him for some time, determining what it is about vampire blood that makes him tick. This one’s been denied vampire blood for about three weeks now. Notice how feral he is. He lost his ability to communicate just a few days ago.”

The vampire screams and spittle flies from his disgusting jaw. He starts clawing at the glass, trying to escape, but it’s useless.

“We were actually able to play a few games of chess at the start,” Simon says. “But when the hunger kicks in, unlike with regular vampires, the Infected, in one last desperate bid to get blood, actually grow in strength, it seems. They become more ferocious, instead of weaker. They’re like stars that burn out quickly right at the end, you know?”

A creature who’s even more dangerous when he’s near death.

“How many are there?” I ask over the screaming of the deranged vampire.

“Hundreds. Maybe thousands. I can’t really get a good estimate and no one’s willing to go outside the city and get me a head count. I got some information from this one here, but I’m not sure how reliable it is.”

“I’d love to talk to him,” I say.

“So would I. Unfortunately, I’m a little short on vampire blood.”

“Can’t you just send out hunters? I mean, surely there’s a village in those hills where vampires live. Or even in the city. It can’t be that hard.”

“This isn’t like Denver,” Ian says, stepping into our conversation. “There hasn’t been a vampire within these walls for years. And there’s fewer and fewer on the outside. The Agency here hasn’t sent out blood in, what? Weeks? Months?”

“Six months,” Simon says.

“Valentine would’ve slaughtered the city if we acted that way,” I say.

“Well, your city doesn’t have a combined thirty miles of thick wall surrounding it. We make our own rules here. And as far as the vampires outside, I think their recent decline is a sign that the Thirst is taking over and they’re turning on one another. The guards along the watchtowers report seeing fewer every night. We used to get the occasional vampire, curious about the gigantic city and the fresh blood inside. They never made it to the wall before being hit by flamethrowers, but still, they were out there, looking for a way in. For the past several weeks, it’s been completely quiet.”

The calm before the storm, maybe.

“So, you don’t have any vampire blood to feed this poor guy?” I ask.

“Sorry, nothing. On the upside, I will get to see how long it takes before he’s totally incapacitated.”

A little too morbid for my taste.

“What if I could get you some vampire blood?” I ask.

Simon raises an eyebrow. “Did you bring some with you? From Denver?”

“Yes,” I say. It’s still in the bodies, but I have it. “I came here to investigate the Thirst, and knowing how important vampire blood is, I brought a small vial with me, just in case.”

“Well, get it to me and I’ll feed him. After that, you can talk as long as you want. They aren’t always coherent, but they’re much easier to deal with when they’re satiated.”

I take one more look at the Infected. His black eyes are bulging and curious, but I doubt he understood a single word of our conversation. He runs his claws against the glass slowly. His mouth dips open and I can look straight down into his black throat. An odd sympathy, like the one I felt for my brother, envelops me. Whoever this vampire was, he didn’t deserve this.

W
hen we step into the Beaumont Hotel, Tegan’s eyes widen. “Wow!”

I have to admit the running fountain in the lobby is impressive. Bellhops wearing little black hats, red jackets, and black pants are assisting guests. Everything is so bright.

Taking it all in, we wander to the registration desk. The clerk, in her navy-blue suit, smiles brightly. “Welcome to the Beaumont.”

“Where do all the guests come from?” I ask. They can’t all be from the train.

“Different parts of the city. They come here when they want a day away from the drudge. We’re known for our pampering. Perhaps I can schedule you for some time at our spa.”

“What’s that?” Tegan asks.

The clerk’s laughter is like tinkling bells. “Massage, facial, all-around spoiling.”

“I don’t think we’ll have time,” I tell her. Tegan’s face falls. I feel bad, but I can’t get distracted from our purpose in being here.

When we finish checking in, the clerk gives me a sealed envelope. Inside is a slip of paper with a room number and “F&R” scrawled on it.

After dropping off our luggage in our suite, we head to the indicated room, which turns out to be the largest one in the hotel. While Michael, Tegan, and Ian explore its luxury, I sit down with Faith and Richard.

“Isn’t this hotel lovely?” Faith asks. “It’s probably the only human palace I’ve ever seen.”

I know I should admire the wooden décor, the French art on the walls, the TV that plays nonstop Hollywood movies. “It’s all fake, though.”

“So? Who needs it to be real? We have enough of that every day; it’s nice to get lost in fantasy.”

“Whatever, I’m not here to talk about the hotel. The sun is still out. How did you get here?”

“Vampires always have ways, Dawn,” Richard says.