Dave Carver (Book 1): Thicker Than Blood (22 page)

Chapter 32

My brain felt like someone had stuck a bendy stray into the gray matter and started slurping. I was afraid to open my eyes, because I was sure that any light would only exacerbate the condition. Like the worst hangover in human history, the pain was blinding, agonizing, and for a moment, paralyzing.

But then it passed. The sirens stopped shrinking in my brain. The aftershocks of the titanic laughter faded, and I was able to sit up.

I opened my eyes.

And I wished I hadn’t.

A dozen vampires were still standing in a circle. Most of their fanged mouths hung open in something like shock, but a few snarled in unhidden rage. Even those looked…cowed, somehow. Like they were more afraid of me than they’d been when I went under. At the moment, though, with them towering over me like a circle of skyscrapers, it was hard to imagine their fear being greater than mine.

Behind the security of the vampires’ offensive line, I could see Loretta on her back like a dazed quarterback. Her fists were clenched and her nails dug into splintered floorboards.

My sword and knife were stacked in a cross (I was sure it was accidental) on the floor between me and the vampires. I sprang to my feet, ignoring the dizzying sensation of blood rushing to my head, and grabbed the two weapons. An especially brave vampire rushed forward, but I pointed the sword at him. He stopped, the blade an inch from his face.

“I’m leaving,” I said. “None of you has to die today.”

I got silence.

Keeping my eyes, and the pointy end of the sword directed at the vampires, I backed towards the door. Loretta suddenly sat up and screamed like something from a nightmare. The rest of the vampires spun around at the horrific sound from their leader. She didn’t say anything more coherent, just wailed like a banshee with bamboo splints beneath her fingernails. Her eyes were focused wildly on me.

I sent a backwards mule-kick at the front door and stepped out into the cold air.

The sun was only a few degrees from where I’d left it. So I hadn’t been enthralled for very long. The city was still here. I didn’t smell smoke in the air. I didn’t hear screaming. Bill hadn’t put his plan into action. I still had time.

While we were in Loretta’s mind, Krissy had told me where to find her: an abandoned subway platform with a spray-painted image of a vampire skull. I knew exactly where she was, because I’d spent a lot of time there. Bill was holed up in the headquarters of my old Family. I started off through the cold towards my old home.

It wasn’t far, so I decided to hoof it. I could run there in the time it would take me to flag down a taxi, especially in this vamp-infested, desolated neighborhood. Besides, I didn’t want to involve an unsuspecting cab driver in this. The fewer people who witnessed this, the less likely I’d have injured bystanders on my conscience. Not that it seemed like I’d have to worry about that. As I jogged through the empty streets, I was struck by how quiet everything was. Too quiet. (Sorry—I always wanted to say that.) There were no people. No hot dog vendors, no cruising cops, no one giving me odd looks because of the weapons. I didn’t know how long Loretta’s friends had been living in that building, but it had to have been long enough for the stink of vampire vibes to permeate the whole neighborhood.

I couldn’t figure out why Bill had chosen this place. Sure it was somewhere important to me—my last real home—but I couldn’t remember talking with him about it. Was it some kind of subconscious plea, asking me to stop him. A last bit of sentimentality from an old man about to commit a heinous betrayal?

Maybe. Or maybe I was overthinking it. Bill probably just liked the location because it was fairly close to the Table’s office, but was still remote and hidden.

The entrance to the old subway station was boarded up and the boards were covered over: flyers, advertisements, offers of guitar lessons, announcements, pictures of runaway pets and kidnapped children, and a generous helping of graffiti covered the old thin wood. A few of the boards at the end of the entrance to the stairs weren’t nailed down. They were positioned so they seemed to be flush, but they popped out with no resistance.

The opening was narrower than I remembered—but I’d been skinner the last time I squeezed through. Using the knife, I pulled a couple more boards free so I could get down the stairs. It was a risk—what if a cop cruised by and wondered why this boarded-up station was no longer boarded up?—but worth it. If I needed to make a quick escape, I wouldn’t want to waste time sucking in my gut.

When all of the boards were free and stacked neatly on the sidewalk, I started down the steps. It smelled damp and musty, the way an old basement does when a leaky pipe goes unnoticed. But there was another smell on top of that, something stronger and older. It was a metallic scent that was somehow still organic. There was only one thing that smelled like that.

Blood.

There was no noise. No drops plopping into puddles. No rodents squeaking in the shadows.

Halfway down the stairs, and I drew my sword. I needed the comforting weight.

There’s something
wrong
about an empty subway platform. They’re places of movement, usually, whether it’s a speeding train or a throng of busily rushing commuters. Movement and people. Without those things, the subway station felt big and empty, like a cathedral on a weekday afternoon. It felt like something I wasn’t supposed to witness.

For me, though, that feeling was muted by the fact that I knew this place. I recognized the bedroll in the corner near the old men’s room, still neatly folded and stowed away. I remembered the small fire pit near the tracks and mismatched collection of camp chairs around it. There, behind a shower curtain that drooped off a plywood vaulting horse, was where I’d sat with Nate the morning after my first kill and gotten my tattoo. Empty soda cans were crumpled and scattered around the dusty old floors, as were used tins of food. Sleeping bags, garbage cans, backpacks, and fallen weapons littered the floor, all of them where they’d been dropped ten years ago.

A fanged skull was spray-painted on the wall near the ticket booth. It was a crude, amateurish piece, done only with black paint, with none of the artistry of a real tagger, but that only enhanced the charm, as far as I was concerned. That skull, with its mouth hanging open to reveal long, curved fangs, was the symbol of my second Family. There was a blade embedded in the skull, between the two black eyeholes. It wasn’t an ax, like the one in my tattoo. It wasn’t a sword, either. It was a machete—Nate Labat’s weapon of choice.

As I reached the bottom, I noticed the oblong dark stains that covered most of the floor. The blood had been left to sit in the station, and it had sunk into it, becoming a part of the fabric of the place.

“Feel good to be home, Dave?”

Bill’s voice echoed oddly through the empty platform like a titan’s call. He stood on the other side of the tracks, his naked sword in his hand. The Gauntlet of Greckhite was still wrapped around his forearm, the symbols glowing like pieces of gold in the dark.

Chapter 33

The metal of the Gauntlet glowed red, like it had been pulled from a stoking fire. The brazen symbols carved into the steel shone even brighter.

A primal part of my brain screamed at me to run. I shut it down. I was a knight of the Round Table, not some antelope on a savanna. I was not going to be intimidated by a strip of glow-worm red metal.

But it was an object of immense power. The magic in the air filled the room like humidity on a summer day. The air was heavy. The Gauntlet of Greckhite reminded me of the the power in my own sword.

I felt, more than saw, Bill watch me as I approached the lip of the subway platform. In the moments when I could force my gaze away from the Gauntlet, I could see Bill’s smile, smug and self-satisfied. He looked younger than I’d ever seen. Most of the gray was gone from his beard, as if the weapon was funneling power directly into his bloodstream like pure heroin. That expression was enough to convince me that I was on the right path. Bill Foster, my friend, my mentor, was a monster.

I stood at the edge of the shallow canyon that contained the subway tracks like veins under the skin of the city and folded my arms. Bill mimicked me, standing directly opposite. I could almost have reached out and touched him.

“It’s a regular trip down memory lane,” I snarled. “My heart’s bursting with nostalgia over here.”

“Look, Dave—“

“How does it feel, to have all that power?”

Bill flexed his right hand, almost unconsciously. “I gotta tell ya, Dave, I’d be lyin’ if I said it didn’t feel pretty damn good.”

I nodded. “I’d hate to imagine what it would be like to betray the whole human race and have it not feel good.” I spat the last sentence, through a throat that vibrated with rage. Even my arms were shaking.

“Is that how it’s gonna be?” Bill’s voice was actually sad.

“It’s how it is,” I said. “You’re a traitor.”

He shook his head and stared off into the distance. His eyes were glazed over like a vamp venom junkie. There was a faint noise, like aluminum garbage cans rattling, from his side of the tracks, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Suddenly, Bill lifted his arm. “Do you know who made this? Originally, I mean.”

I shook my head.

“Morgan LeFay,” he said. “The witch. Arthur Pendragon’s half-sister. She built this thing not long after the Round Table was built. I guess she wanted to break our backs before we ever got on our feet. She allied herself with Cairngorm goblins in Scotland. Long story short, she got beat. Arthur and Merlin kicked her witchy ass back to wherever she came from. But the Gauntlet was lost.”

“So?” I asked.

“While we were in that holler in Guyana, a vamp agent called Roberto came to my cell and told me that the elders had the Gauntlet. They were gonna use it to take over the world.”

“And your plan was what—to help them?”

He shook his head. “Made a deal wit’ ‘em. I’d help ‘em destroy the Table, but they’d have to leave some folks alive and healthy.”

I snorted. “That is a really terrible plan.”

“Is it?” Bill said softly. “I have the Gauntlet and they don’t.”

“There are at least three people dead who shouldn’t be,” I said. “It’s a bad plan.”

Bill sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “Necessary evil. I couldn’t let Taylor live. He knew too much ‘bout the plan. Larsen was gonna die sooner or later, anyway. The vamps ain’t gonna let many knights live.”

“And McCreary?” I said. “He figure out what you were up to?”

Bill frowned and tugged on the end of his beard. “Yep. I ain’t sure how he did it, but he knew the vamps had the Gauntlet. But that wasn’t why he had to go. I needed to get you off the bench.” He narrowed his eyes and stared at me for a moment. “I want you to be one o’ the folks who lives, Dave. I needed you someplace I could keep my eye on you. That’s why I arranged for Roberto to take you to that garage.”

He looked at the bloody mess on the platform behind him. His back was to me. I had a shot. I could have killed him.

But I didn’t.

When he turned around, he smiled sadly, like he knew what I’d been thinking about.

“Do you know how many vamps there are out there, Dave? Thousands. Millions, maybe Way more than the Table can handle. If they wanted to, they could turn us into so much gruel. And now they want to.”

“That’s how it’s always been,” I said. “What changed?”

“They realized it, and they got organized.” Bill shook his head. “The time of the Knights of the Round Table is up. I’ve seen it comin’ for years, way before Guyana. They been attackin’ more and more. They been turnin’ more people. The elders have been buildin’ an army for years, Dave. The Round Table is gonna lose.”

“So you figured, ‘They’re gonna win anyway, so I might as well get in on the ground floor?’ ”

“They’re givin’ me an island in the South Pacific,” he said. “I’m gonna take bunch’a people out there and we can keep livin’ like people. Don’t you get, Dave? We can’t save everyone—I wish we could, but we can’t—but we can preserve the human race.”

“
Preserve
,” I said. “That’s a good word for it. You want to take the human race and put them on a damn game reservation. And you want me to help you cull seven billion people down to a number small enough to fit in a zoo.” I shook my head and spat on the ground. “You’re delusional.”

“Kid, I’ll save thousands.”

“You won’t save anything,” I snapped. “You’re turning them into a tourist trap: ‘Look kids, it’s the last free-range human colony in the world! Let’s go on safari and take lots of pictures. When we’re done we can hit the cafeteria and drink human blood milkshakes.’ No, I won’t be part of that.”

Bill’s features blurred and calcified. I recognized that look. It was what he looked like before he went into battle. “You don’t have a choice. I have the Gauntlet. This is happenin’, and there ain’t nothin’ you can do ‘bout it.”

Behind him something moved in the shadows. A stray beam of light bounced off of something that looked for all the world like a lock of dusty blond hair. And then it was gone. I didn’t smile, didn’t nod, didn’t give any indication that I had seen it. I tried my best not to think too loudly. I didn’t know how far Bill’s mental powers went.

My mind raced for ways to keep Bill focused on me. Fortunately, I still had questions.

“So you’re gonna use the Gauntlet to destroy the Table?”

“The elders think I’m gonna turn it over once London’s leveled,” Bill said. “But that ain’t happenin’. I’m keepin’ it, and we’re gonna use it to protect ourselves. I’m gonna make sure the vamps don’t go back on our deal a few years from now. We’re gonna stay free.”

I pointed a finger at him. “See, I think that’s it, right there.” I hadn’t seen any more movement in the shadows, but I had to hope she was still there. I had to keep Bill looking at me. “This isn’t some noble quest to preserve humanity for future generations to enjoy. You want to go to your little island paradise and play God-King. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“That ain’t true, Dave. I’m gonna—“

“It doesn’t work for vampires,” I said.

“What?”

“Your new toy. It doesn’t work for vampires. They can’t use it against us, because they can’t use it, period. We can use it against
them
, though, Bill. It’s not too late. We can stop this, once and for all.”

He frowned, his lips disappearing beneath his facial hair. “That don’t matter. I have the power now.”

“Yeah, because they
gave
it to you.” I shook my head. “Doesn’t that bother you, Bill? It would bother me.”

“Only thing that matters is power. And I have it.”

They
let
you have it.”

The lights on the Gauntlet brightened, bathing the whole station in harsh, unflattering red. The floor rattled as if a train was about to speed past the platform. Bill’s face was contorted with rage. Good. The angrier he got, the less likely he’d be to notice anything going on behind him.

Of course, he was also
more
likely to bring the whole station down around our ears. Still, I knew Bill, and I figured he could be pushed a little farther.

“Jeez, Bill, I figured you’d have better control of that thing by now.”

The ground continued to shake as he leaned precariously over the tracks. “Shut. Up.”

I raised my hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Okay, okay. I guess I’m just surprised what a pathetic little lapdog you are.”

Bill swung his sword. I leaped back in time to avoid getting gutted like a carp, but the blade tore open my T-shirt. The blade passed harmlessly through the air without tearing into flesh to slow it down. He put so much force into the blow that it took him off balance. Not enough to make him fall, but enough to give me an opening.

“Now!” My shout echoed oddly in the stations. I silently prayed that I had really seen what I thought I had seen.

Krissy appeared from inside an old ladies’ room, holding a baseball bat with nails hammered through the business end. She sprinted across the platform, faster than I’d have expected from her, and swung the jagged, pointy end of the bat at Bill’s back like a veteran softball player.

Maybe the Gauntlet enhanced his reflexes, or maybe Bill was always that good, but he ducked out of the way, smooth and graceful as a dancer. Krissy’s attack sailed harmlessly by. She recovered quickly, though, and sent another home-run-swing at his head. Bill’s sword flashed, a column of red-yellow fire trailing the blade. It sheared through the wood. The spiny end of the bat fell uselessly to the tracks below.

Bill flicked his wrist like he was throwing a frisbee, and Krissy was picked from her feet. She flew across the platform and landed in a pile of old garbage bags. She lay still.

I drew my knife and hurled myself across the tracks, hooking my arm around Bill’s shoulder and dragging him to the ground. As he struggled to break free, I drove my knife between his ribs. He howled in sudden pain and swung his arm in a wide circle. I was plucked off my feet by an unseen force like a skill crane and tossed across the tracks, where I hit the ground and skidded across the floor. Dazed, I came to a stop near where I used to sleep, back when this platform was my home.

Then Bill was standing over me, the side of his shirt soaked with blood. His face was distorted and twisted in an agonized grimace. As I watched, the symbols on the Gauntlet glowed, and the blood stooped oozing. His scowl turned around and he grinned. Slowly, Bill opened his fist and the lights on the gauntlet switched off. He put the tip of his sword against my throat and whispered, “Don’t move.”

Bill was nearly as motionless as I was, his eyes serious and sad. “He would’a killed you, Dave. I couldn’t let that happen.”

The steel of his sword bit, cold and bitter, into my throat. I dared not move my tongue, lips, throat, or any of the other bits that were necessary for verbal communication.

But Bill seemed to know what I was thinking. He continued, “Roberto. You know he was at Guyana, right? He had me dragged me into his office one day, after I’d told him to suck off a hedgehog. Told me all about his plan. He said if I didn’t help him, he’d have you tortured to death.” Bill looked down at me, his eyes pleading me to understand. “You get why I couldn’t allow that, right? I promised your dad that I’d take care of you and your ma. I’d already failed her. I wasn’t ‘bout to let Jesse Carver’s son die.”

“My father was a knight,” I said. “He wouldn’t have let the world burn just to save one life.”

“Then I don’t think you understand fatherhood, kid.”

Something in my head went
click
, and I had flash of insight. “Jen,” I said. “Jen Carey, the girl that Roberto had with me in the garage. She’s your daughter, isn’t she? That garage was where they were keeping the people you wanted to bring with you to your little island.”

Bill was quiet for a long time. “She never knew me,” he said. “Her ma kicked me out when she was a baby. Said I couldn’t give her nothin’ but danger, and she didn’t want our little girl to be a part’a that. I couldn’t blame her…” He shook his head. “But that don’t mean I could let her die, either.”

“Well, she’s gonna die now,” I said. “So are a lot of people in this city—“

“
Everybody
in this city,” Bill said. “The vamps’ll let lots of folks live, for food and such, but not here. They see New York as the center o’ human civilization, and they need to destroy it. They’ll exterminate everybody within fifty miles of where we’re standin’. The era of mankind is over, Dave, and it’s endin’ here. Right this moment, there’s a whole boatload of vampires on their way here from Europe.”

I didn’t tell him that I knew about Loretta’s plan. If he knew we were on to Loretta’s plans, he could have found a way to stop the
Guinevere
. Whatever else happened here, New York would survive.

But Bill didn’t know that. So I said, “And you can’t stop it? Not even to save your own daughter?”

“No.”

“Then you might as well kill me now,” I said. “Because I don’t care what scrap of sand you bring me to, how much power you can give me, I will
not
stand by and let you give the keys of this planet to the vampires. Sooner or later, I will stop you. Today, tomorrow, ten years from now—if you want to keep your little power trip going, you’re gonna have to put me down, so…just do it.”