End of Days (15 page)

I began to search for my father's missing journal, but I could feel that something was wrong. A restless presence, cold and evil, was approaching. I realized Vlad's remains should have been here. The sun had reduced his body to a roasted skeleton. I had to find it. I renewed my search, but the office kept changing. Every time I checked some area and looked up, everything else would have moved, so it was impossible to know where I'd actually looked. A sense of dread
hung over me as I scrambled around. He was in this mess somewhere, and I knew that the longer I took, the more likely it was that someone would bring him back—just as I had been brought back. Then he would find me and I'd have to relive the horror of
that night
all over again.

I started walking down a corridor—the secret passage my uncle had used to escape. Then I remembered—this was where I'd thrown Vlad's body. I sensed his evil here. It was approaching from behind. There was a door ahead. A way out. I started to run, but my legs were leaden, the injured one almost useless. It was bleeding and sore. The harder I tried to move, the slower I got. Vlad was getting closer. Right behind me. I wasn't going to make it.

“It's okay.”

I stopped and took a deep breath. It was Ophelia.

“Thank God,” I said. I ran my fingers through my hair and leaned against the wall. When I looked up, we were back at the Nicholls Ward. I had my scrubs on. I could tell by the sky outside that it was time to get ready for bed.

Ophelia had a look of relief on her face. There might have been some pity, too. “Are you all right?”

I sighed. “I am now.” I started walking toward my room. Ophelia wasn't following me. “What is it?”

Her eyebrows rose and she tipped her head forward. “Zachary, you don't live here anymore.”

That was true. I don't know what I was thinking. We lived together on Hunter Street now. No sooner did I imagine the inside of our house than we were standing together in the living room. “Are
you
all right?” I asked.

Ophelia nodded. “Yes. I'm fine. But I need to take you to see someone.”

“Like a doctor?”

She shook her head. “No. Nothing like that.”

I had hoped that if I was going to be traveling the Dream Road, I'd get to visit Luna again, but Ophelia obviously had other plans.
She asked me to close my eyes, then took hold of my hand. A warmth passed over my face. A glow.

“Can I open them now?”

“Not yet,” she said, but I'd opened them anyway. I had been expecting her to say yes, so my eyelids slipped up just a crack. I didn't see much. Just soft, pale light. It was everywhere. We were back in the Nexus. I heard the voices again. A symphony of overlapping dream songs. I pinched my eyes shut.

“Now,” said Ophelia.

When I opened them a second time, I was inside a dark building. I could hear birds singing outside, and the hum of insects. A huge set of double doors was open in front of me. A field stretched out to the edge of a forest, which receded down a mountain slope. The wind danced through the tall blades of grass and ruffled the pine trees. The sun was shining, but I wasn't afraid. Wildflowers were in bloom. I looked up at the decorated arches overhead. I'd seen a place like this before—in pictures.

“Are we in China?”

“No, this is Tibet, ‘The Roof of the World.' ”

I stepped onto the threshold so I could walk outside. Then I felt Ophelia's hand on my arm, stopping me.

“This way.”

I turned and nearly tripped over a small gong sitting on the floor. Beside it was an open fireplace set deep in the floor.

“To him who overcomes, I will give the right to sit with me,” said a voice.

I didn't know anyone else was in the room. My whole body jerked in surprise. I followed Ophelia's gaze to the far side of the temple. Although my eyes were usually good in the dark, I had trouble penetrating the shadows. Smoke was in the air, too, rising from two incense burners set on the floor. A pipe like a water pitcher with a huge stem was sitting between them. Only when the neck of it rose into the air did I see the man who had spoken. He was old and dressed in a robe that might have been orange at one time, but now
seemed to reflect the shadows that surrounded him. He sat cross-legged on a matt. Smoke drifted in two slow ribbons from each of his wide nostrils, and more curled around his head, which was bald. His eyebrows were impossibly long and seemed to float in the air like insect wings. Stranger still were his eyes. They were missing. Skin grew over his empty orbits.

“For the Lamb will be their shepherd,” he said. “And he will lead them to springs of living water.” His voice was faint, but oddly musical. It was followed by a quiet sound. Almost a purr. It took me a moment to realize he was laughing. “I am Baoh, the Prophet. And you are welcome here.”

Baoh—that was the name Charlie and I had seen in the letter we'd found at the safe house.

Ophelia bowed her head. “This is Zachary. Son of the late Robert Douglas Thomson, the great vampire hunter.”

“You place us all in great peril, woman of the desert.”

He raised a hand and waved for Ophelia to go. She was still holding my arm. She clung to it a moment longer, just so I would look at her. When I did, she nodded once, then walked toward the door.

“The first woe is past; two other woes are yet to come,” the man said in a loud voice. His head was cocked to the side as though trying to get a better view of Ophelia as she disappeared across the field.

I wondered how he could see with no eyes. A few awkward seconds passed.

“Is she gone?” he whispered.

I was so surprised by his question and the change in his voice that I didn't answer. He didn't seem to notice. Instead, he rose to his feet slowly, as if his joints were stiff, and waved a hand in front of his face to clear away the smoke.

“You want a drink, gringo?”

I shrugged. “Um . . . okay.” I glanced back at the temple doors. They were closed. When I turned back, the man was gone. I had a flash of panic. I didn't want to be stuck here alone. A second later he
appeared at my side. The top of his head barely reached my shoulder. He had two gold goblets, one in either hand. He passed one to me. It had a red liquid inside. It might have been blood, but I couldn't tell. I sniffed at it, but my nose didn't seem to be working. He tapped the edge of his drink against mine, then raised it up.

“To eternal life. And miniskirts.” He drained it in one go, then his head shook. “Whoa. That hits the spot.”

I took a reluctant sip. It tasted sweet, and salty, and warm. Like blood mixed with something better than blood. I drank. A pleasant euphoria filled my limbs.

“Not, bad, eh?” Baoh said, placing his hand on the small of my back. He waved his other hand about the room as though the place was a colossal disappointment to him. “I don't know why she insists on these stuffy meeting places.” He shook his head. “Poor Ophelia. Sooooo sad. Sooooo serious.” He moved me gently to a door at the back. “But Baoh's a media man, eh. Give the people what they want! Doom and gloom. A little hope. Something from Revelation, maybe. And a way forward.” Then he clapped me on the shoulder. His other hand reached into the folds of his robe and came out with a pair of sunglasses, which he slipped over his skin-covered orbits. “I gave up my eyes for true sight.” His voice was suddenly melancholy. “And now look at me.”

The door opened. Noise exploded inward. Cars. Horns. Loud music. Neon light. Wind and exhaust. Grease from a thousand deep fryers. Steam from a thousand soup kitchens. I found myself standing on top of a huge apartment building. Behind was a penthouse suite that looked to be made mainly of glass. Not a typical dwelling for a vampire.

“Ahhh, this is more like it!” Baoh shouted.

“Where are we?”

He laughed and spread his hands. His clothes had changed. He was now wearing a loose silk shirt and bell-bottom trousers. It did a perfect job of showing off his skinny legs and potbelly. “The center of the universe. Tokyo!”

“How did you do it?”

He laughed. “This is nothing. You should see me with a Ouija board.”

He turned and reached for a tray. A waitress in high heels was holding it beside him. I wondered if she'd just appeared out of thin air. She had mascara plastered over her large almond eyes and was wearing less clothing than your average hamster. He reached up to a decanter, then filled two thimble-size glasses and handed one of them to me. “Drink up. You're with one of the old boys now.”

My eyes were still on the waitress.

“Bah, don't mind her. She's not really here.” He waved a hand and she walked away. “Come on inside.” He downed his drink.

I was still looking at the clear liquid he'd handed me.

“He who hesitates is lost,” he said. Then he took the drink from me, knocked it back, and tossed the empty vessel over his shoulder. I didn't hear it land. “One should never overdo opium on the first night. It can stop your heart faster than a long, tall woman in a black dress.”

Opium? Was that what had made the blood taste so good? I wasn't sure if I should ask, so I kept quiet and followed him across the terrace, through a set of glass doors, and into an apartment that looked more expensive than the Vatican. At least a dozen women were inside.

“Out. Out. Out. Out. Out,” he shouted. Once the room was clear, he put his hand beside his mouth and whispered, “Don't you dare tell them how old I am. It's hard enough getting a date when you have no eyeballs.” He picked up a remote for the TV, which was about ten feet across and mounted on the wall.

“So, you want to talk to old Baoh, eh? Well, young man, there is a price. There is always a price.”

I had no money. No valuables. This was going to be a short meeting.

“There are many ways of paying.” He faced me so we were standing toe-to-toe. “I am of the ancient world—an age long past. But
some things endure through time, and human nature is one of them. Pride. Courage. The need to prove oneself. Fear of failure. There are countless examples. Truths that don't change. You understand?”

I nodded.

“Cowardice, greed, selfishness. These also endure.” His voice grew angry. Then he calmed. “So what kind of man are you becoming?”

I didn't have an answer for this.

“In my time, all men were tested by adversity. Pain, loss, struggle. There is less of this now. Life is too easy. But there is one arena in which a man's true nature could always be discerned, in this or any age. It is the crucible of war, of combat. You cannot know a man until you see him in battle. The truth of this endures also. And so you must be tested.” He leaned forward. His voice grated against my ears. “Fail me, young blood, and you're doomed.”

Baoh's back was to the television. The remote was still in his hand. Without turning, he reached over his shoulder and clicked it on. Then he nudged me to the side so we could stand shoulder to shoulder.

“You're a Microsoft man. I can tell.” He handed me a Nintendo controller. “I prefer the Wii myself.” When I accepted it, he bowed. “We shall see what kind of man you are becoming. The ancient sport of boxing. Or close enough. I much prefer this version. Less painful. But still a valid test. One you'll need to pass, if you intend to survive the End of Days.”

I stared at the screen. This wasn't at all what I expected. I wondered if this was how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole into Wonderland.

He turned to face the television as the game loaded. Then we chose our avatars, the little figures that would represent us in the fight. Instead of the usual dozens to choose from, there were only two—a blind monk with oversize eyebrows in an orange robe and a jogger in scrubs with a widow's peak. It seemed fitting.

As soon as the bell sounded, I stepped forward and threw a jab. I followed up with a right cross and left hook. He ducked and countered. I put up my guard, then dropped a good one on his nose.

“That was pure luck,” he shouted.

I did it again.

“Take advantage of a blind man, will you? Shame! Shame!”

The third time I moved in, he pounded me back with a flurry of his own. “See? Hah. Thought you could get the better of old Baoh!”

His flurries continued. “I got you figured out, young blood. You're finished now.”

He floored me. This happened again. And again. I struggled to my feet. Or, my avatar did. His eyes were crossed and he wobbled on rubbery legs.

“You're just being stubborn now,” he said.

The fight ended a few minutes later with his icon, the monk, unconscious on the mat.

Baoh whacked his controller against his palm. “This thing's not working right. Must be a loose wire.” He tossed it with disgust onto the sofa, then walked behind a counter and started pouring himself a cocktail. “You're not too shabby. Ophelia would be proud of you. Focused. Difficult to frustrate. Slow to anger. Little vanity. A good balance of aggression and self-preservation. Patience. Confidence. Little fear, just enough to keep you on your toes. You lack a recognizable game plan, but otherwise, she has done well.”

It sounded like a compliment, so I said thanks.

“Courteous, too,” he added, holding his drink up to the light. He lowered it under his nose. It wasn't quite right, so he continued to fiddle with the ingredients. “Combat, still the best test of a man. Even in a video game. Who you are—it comes through in all that you do, no?” He fixed me with his eyeless stare. “So . . . here is the real test! What did you learn about me?”

His question caught me completely off guard. I took a deep breath. What had I learned? That he could have used a bit of time in the Nicholls Ward. “You don't take yourself as seriously as I expected you to.”

He nodded as if this was true.

“You've adapted to the times. You aren't stuck in the past.”