Science and Sorcery (18 page)

I took my apprenticeship in Atlantis
, Harrow said.  Oddly, she sounded melancholy.  
The city was the wonder of the world.  There were great towering buildings, held aloft by magic, and trolls and elves to do our bidding.  Ships from all over the world would come to bring us goods, trading for our knowledge of magic.  Mighty dragons would come to Atlantis to be tamed into servitude by magic, then carry sorcerers through the air to wage war on their rivals.  The priests would chant prayers to placate the gods as we sorcerers plotted to steal their power.  Life was good.

“I’m sorry,” Calvin whispered.  A strange sense of loss ran through his mind.  “We can rebuild Atlantis.”

There was a faint flicker of bitter amusement. 
It won’t be necessary
, Harrow informed him. 
Once we are free, the world will not need Atlantis.  We carry the knowledge with us wherever we go
.

She refused to say anything more as the bell rang again, summoning children for afternoon classes.  Calvin walked to the classroom – this time without incident – and stepped inside, catching sight of several other girls chattering away in a corner.  He’d seen them naked too; absently, he wondered what would happen if he walked up to Charley and told her that he knew she had a mole on her left buttock.  She’d probably scream and accuse him of peeking into their changing room during PE, or perhaps hiding a spy camera somewhere in the school.  He doubted that she would ever learn the truth.

Calvin winced inwardly as Sandra walked past him, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.  She was gorgeous, he saw, now that he had sated his appetite for breasts and thighs.  Her mother had been Japanese, her father American, blending the two ethnic groups together into one flawless whole.  Long dark hair framed a perfect face, almond-shaped eyes and a smile that would have been enchanting, if she hadn't looked worried. 
Something
was clearly bothering the girl.  Maybe, as a mixed-race child, she would become one of the Changed.  Most of
them
were mixed-race.

The thought wasn't a reassuring one.  Panic was sweeping the nation.  Parents were pulling their children out of school until the administrators could provide proof that none of their students were Changed – and that, Calvin knew, was impossible.  A person didn't Change until his body had built up enough of a
mana
charge to support the Change, something that could take days – or much longer.  It would all depend on factors completely outside human control.

Sandra took a seat near the front of the class – if she was aware of his scrutiny, she didn't show it – as the teacher entered the room.  Miss Parson was better at keeping order than the other teachers; Calvin liked her, just because he could relax slightly in her classroom.  Besides, he felt much more confident now.  He listened to her lecture absently, keeping one eye on Sandra as she took notes silently.  The girl definitely caused a reaction in the growing
mana
field, even if it didn't seem to have manifested yet.

Indeed she does
, Harrow said. 
I think that she would be a suitable subject, don’t you
?

Calvin blinked and rapidly subvocalised.  “A suitable subject for what?”

She has mana without control or focus
, Harrow said. 
A reserve of power we can use, without anything that might make her dangerous.
  There was a long chilling pause. 
You are going to use her as the first of the three sacrifices.

Calvin blinked in shock, almost speaking out loud.  “Three sacrifices?”

To build up mana quickly requires sacrifice
, Harrow informed him. 
In order to free us from our prison, you will need more mana than you can muster on your own.  We will start working on containment exercises tonight.

“But...”  Calvin caught himself.  “I’m not going to murder someone who didn't do me any harm.”

It is far too late to retreat
, Harrow said.  There was a cold inevitability flowing through her thoughts, tinged with a very faint amusement. 
You have gone too far
.

And Calvin knew that she was right.

Chapter Eighteen

New York, USA

Day 19

“Hey, Matt,” a voice called.  “I heard you were a big-shot at Fart, Barf and Itch!”

Matt had to smile as Officer Daniels waddled up behind him.  Daniels wasn't
that
overweight but he somehow managed to give the impression of a lazy policeman who spent more time eating doughnuts than he did chasing suspects.  It was a mystery how he managed to pass the fitness requirements for officers on active duty, but he
was
good with people.  Matt had watched him track down a wanted killer by simply asking the right questions. 

“They’ve got me here chasing the vampire,” he said, without going into details.  Golem had said that he was a Hunter, but he didn't feel like anything special.  “What about you?”

“Keeping an eye on the sales,” Daniels said.  He waved a hand at the shops – and the stalls established outside the shops, probably in violation of some law.  “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

Matt hadn't.  The existence of one vampire had naturally led to rumours that there were others, perhaps a whole vampire nest out of bad movies and worse nightmares.  New Yorkers were responding to the crisis by stocking up on garlic, silver crosses and holy water, paying vast sums of money just to buy a little protection.  One of the stalls was selling water pistols, each one costing a hundred dollars, and bottles of water that had been sanctified by a priest as ammunition.  No one was quite sure if it would actually work – Golem had explained that there were several different strains of vampire, each with their own laws – but the dealers were raking in the money.  Beside them, there were a dozen stalls offering Italian stew, heavily laced with garlic.  The signs beside the stalls promised that a meal a day would keep the vampires away, with a smaller note indicating that anyone who wanted to claim their money back had to report in person.  It wasn't particularly funny, Matt knew.  Anyone who came to claim his money back might have become one of the undead.

“My brother lives up in Idaho,” he said, shaking his head.  “He sells guns – or he would, if he had any left.  There’s such a massive backlog of requests for guns and ammunition that it may be weeks before he gets more stock in from the manufactures.  Apparently, there’s a blacksmith from the SCA who has been melting down silver and using it to produce bullets.”

“Silver bullets,” Daniels mused.  “For werewolves, I presume?”

Matt nodded.  The military had already thought of the concept, although it had taken time to convince the manufacturing plant to start producing the bullets.  Right now, the guards at the base holding the werewolves all had silver bullets in their guns, while others had been distributed all over the country, particularly in Fort Hood.  No one had caught the werewolf that had bitten Joe Buckley. 

He rolled his eyes as he looked at the stalls.  “I’m surprised that you haven't been given orders to shut this lot down already,” he said.  “I remember when we had to arrest a pair of kids for selling homemade lemonade.  Made us look like jackbooted thugs.”

Daniels snorted.  “Our beloved Mayor is suddenly in political hot water,” he said.  “Too many people think that there’s a vampire or werewolf lurking behind every tree, so the word has come down from City Hall.  We’re not to do anything about these stalls, or about the makeshift weapons...I’m not actually sure what we’re supposed to do about people bringing in weapons from other states.  Turn a blind eye, I suppose.”

He looked up at Matt.  “What the fuck happened to your eye?”

Matt scowled.  “I tripped and fell down the stairs,” he said, tightly.  “But I’m perfectly fine.”

Daniels knew that he was lying, but he didn't press the issue, thankfully.  Matt didn't want to have to tell him that Golem, whose mere existence was supposed to remain secret, had been so convinced that Matt was a Hunter that he'd convinced Matt to test himself against one of the Navy SEALs who had been assigned to guard the complex.  The SEAL had knocked him down in thirty seconds, somehow leaving Matt with the impression that he’d held back.  It hadn't been very reassuring. 

As darkness fell over New York, the streets rapidly began to empty.  Matt found it more than a little eerie; normally, New York never actually bothered to
sleep
.  There were bars that remained open all night, discos where night owls could dance from dusk till dawn, brothels that accepted customers at all hours of the day...now, however, they would have to close.  Businesses that remained open until late had been reporting increased absenteeism among their workforce, simply because people were scared of vampires.  It seemed impossible that one vampire could cause so much panic.

“Good luck,” Daniels said.  New York’s SWAT team had been armed with stakes and holy water, as well as each man eating garlic before going out on deployment, but so far they hadn't even managed to get a sniff of the vampire.  Judging from what Golem had said, the vampire was more likely to get a sniff of them and avoid them like the plague.  “Try not to get turned, like those idiots in Central Park.”

Matt rolled his eyes.  The idiots who had produced movies with sexy vampires had a lot to answer for, at least in his opinion.  Hundreds of idiots who thought that they wanted to become creatures of the night had flocked to New York, taking up position in Central Park to offer themselves to the vampire.  The fact that the first known victim had died and then
not
come back to life hadn’t dissuaded them.  Eventually, the NYPD had been forced to take them into custody for their own safety.  They hadn't gone quietly.

The city seemed to be quieting as the darkness grew stronger, as if it were holding its breath.  Matt reached into his coat and checked the stakes he’d been given, along with body armour, a gun carrying silver bullets and holy water.  Golem had been surprised by the existence of modern body armour, something that had puzzled Matt until he’d realised that his time had had magic capable of burning through any armour.  Maybe it would surprise the vampire too.

Maybe I should have brought the SEALs
, he thought, as he began to walk through the streets.  With so few potential victims around – even the homeless had been moved into shelters, after some argument – the vampire was likely to home in on him.  But it all depended on just what kind of vampire they were dealing with.  Some of them according to Golem, could go for an entire
week
without having to feed.  And they had other tricks up their sleeves, just waiting for unwary victims. 

Feeling his heartbeat pounding in his chest, Matt kept walking. 

***

Layla crouched on a rooftop, staring down at the deserted streets below.  She’d fed too openly, part of her mind realised, and now her prey were hiding from her.  The rest of her mind simply didn't care.  What did it matter if the sheep knew that there was a wolf hunting them?  They would still become lunch for the prowling wolf.  But she couldn't go out in the daytime and apparently vampires
did
need to be invited into a person’s home.  She'd tried to break into a house, only to discover that she couldn't even break the lock. 

The hunger gnawed at her rationality as she stood up and leapt for the next rooftop, and the next, dancing from building to building in a manner Batman might have envied.  It would have terrified her once – she had barely been able to swim – but now it felt natural and right.  She sniffed the air, hunting for a possible target, only to find nothing that wasn’t protected by ancient law.  Maybe she could convince someone to invite her into their home...no, that wouldn't work.  She’d watched TV while hiding from the daylight and the Mayor had been insistent that no one, whatever happened, should invite
anyone
into their homes without making them eat a piece of garlic first.  The very thought repelled her, even though she couldn't understand why.  How could
garlic
be genuinely dangerous to a vampire?

Central Park loomed up in the distance, only to rapidly prove deserted of anything human.  Layla dropped to the ground, wondering if she should try catching a stray dog or cat, even though the very thought repelled her.  But the longer she went without feeding, the more her mind would fade away into the bloodlust.  She needed to catch a human and feed on him.  And then she caught the scent.  A single man, walking the streets, completely on his own.  Turning, Layla started to run, before jumping back onto the buildings and heading towards her prey.  He would never expect an attack from above.

***

Matt sensed...
something
and jumped backwards, just as a streak of blackness tore through where his head had been.  The figure was dressed completely in black, part of his mind noted, and was smaller than he had expected.  A moment later, the cowl dropped and he realised that he was staring at a teenage girl.  But her mouth was wide open, revealing sharp white fangs, and her body was strange, almost as if it was badly proportioned.  He couldn't even
begin
to guess how old she was. 

The girl moved forward with blinding speed, her hands becoming claws as they slashed out at Matt’s throat.  Sheer terror forced him to raise his hands to block her, but he felt the blow even though the body armour.  The girl looked too thin to be very strong, yet she’d hit him hard enough that she would have broken his arm, if he hadn't been wearing the armour.  A moment later, he had the stake in one hand and thrust it out at her.  She moved backwards like a streak of lightning and avoided him with ease.  Matt expected her to run – at the speed she moved, she could be halfway out of the city before he even started after her – but instead she circled him, hissing very faintly.  Her eyes seemed to dance with unholy light, almost hypnotically...

Matt tore his eyes away with an effort and raised the stake again.  A second later and she would have torn off his head, armour or no armour.  Instead, she darted backwards, her face twisted with an inhuman fury, and continued to circle him.  There was no trace of anything rational in her expression, nothing that suggested that she could think or speak.  Golem had warned him that vampires could become overwhelmed with bloodlust, to the point where they forgot everything else; the old Hunters had known to use it against them.  But that required training that Matt didn't have. 

The vampire stopped circling Matt and waited, as if she wanted to see what he would do next.  Matt braced himself, keeping the stake firmly in one hand, and produced the gourd of holy water with the other.  A little ingenuity had allowed him to turn it into a makeshift water pistol, one that fired more water than a kid’s toy.  The vampire watched him warily as Matt braced himself, and then bit his lip so hard that he drew blood.  There was a terrifying snarl from the vampire as she lunged forward as blinding speed, consumed by the bloodlust, and ran right into the stream of holy water.  She screeched in pain – the sound tore at Matt’s ears and echoed over the city – and stumbled backwards, rubbing her face as if it had been struck by acid.  Matt clutched the stake and stepped forward, only to have her slam a fist into his chest and throw him right back across the street.  He felt, just for a moment, as if she’d caved in his ribs.  The body armour was designed to protect the wearer against bullets – the military had improved it after countless tiny struggles in Iraq and Afghanistan – and she’d managed to harm him with her bare hands.  If she hadn't been in pain herself, it would have been over there and then. 

Matt staggered to his feet, feeling vaguely sick, as if he had been concussed.  There was no time to worry about it, not now.  He produced a second stake from his coat and advanced forward, carefully.  The vampire turned and ran right towards the nearest building, scrambling up it like a demented version of Spiderman.  Matt acted on instinct, drew his gun and shot her with an explosive bullet.  It detonated inside her ribs and sent her falling back down to the ground.  Golem had warned that vampires had remarkable regeneration powers, just as capable as werewolves in many ways, but even a vampire would need time to recover from the shot.  Besides, maddened as she was, she would want to kill him before she made her escape. 

The vampire rolled over and came at him, only to impale herself on the stake Matt held out.  She screeched again and staggered backwards, falling onto the ground.  Matt almost fell on top of her in his eagerness to drive the stake in, but somehow she refused to explode into dust and ashes.  Not one of
those
vampires, he noted absently.  Some could merely be pinned in place by a stake, rather than destroyed instantly.  The damage to her body, he realised, had already healed, leaving only torn clothing to prove that it had ever happened.  Up close, her body was unnaturally pale and thin in places, too thin to be natural.  And she seemed to have no scent at all.