Science and Sorcery (19 page)

He keyed his radio, calling for backup.  Taking the vampire alive had been considered a possibility, although Golem had doubted that it was practical.  Besides, vampires that lost control of themselves had to be destroyed in his time, unless they happened to run the country.  Matt allowed himself a moment of justified pride as the prisoner transport vehicle rumbled around the corner and parked beside their position.  A moment later, the doors opened and a small team of soldiers arrived, ready to take the vampire into custody.

She hissed at them as they attached heavy chains to her arms and legs, and then picked her up and placed her on top of a stretcher.  The whole procedure had been worked out for the criminally insane, men so lost to rational thought that they would cheerfully break their own bones to escape handcuffs, but Matt had insisted that they use the strongest possible chains, just in case the vampire proved stronger than expected.  Given the speed she’d recovered from having a small explosion inside her chest, something that would have killed any normal human, he had no doubt that broken wrists and hands would regenerate in seconds. 
She
didn't need to be insane to try to break free.

“Pretty girl,” one of the soldiers commented.  “Are you sure she’s a vampire?”

The vampire snarled at him, showing her fangs, and the soldier jumped back in alarm.  “No, I just picked her up for the night,” Matt snapped, sarcastically.  “The fact she’s still alive after having a stake rammed through her chest is merely an illusion.”

Pushing his irritation aside, he watched as the vampire was placed inside the van and strapped down, just to make it harder for her to break free.  The precautions looked insane, but his aching chest bore mute witness to her strength.  Carefully, he felt inside her pockets, trying to recover anything that might identify her.  There was nothing, apart from a single silver chain carrying an Egyptian Ankh.  It puzzled him, so he put it in the evidence bag for later study.

“Whatever happens,” he ordered, “the prisoner compartment is
not
to be opened until we get to the holding facility.  Even if you hear me yelling at you to open the door, do
not
open the door.  You will maintain full security alert at all times.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” the soldier said.  “Do you really want to stay inside?”

Matt could understand his concern.  The prisoner compartment was solid, as heavily armed as a tank, or the President’s personal transport, and it wasn't designed for comfort.  He’d stuck a thermos of coffee inside before setting off on his mission, but there was nothing to do, but keep an eye on the vampire.  Matt would have preferred to leave the vampire cooped up, yet there was no choice.  Some vampires could do far more than simple hypnosis if they wanted to mess with a person’s mind. 

“Orders are orders,” he said, finally.  Golem had said that Matt should have a certain immunity to mental tricks, but the vampire had almost caught him regardless.  “Just get us to the holding facility as quickly as possible.”

He climbed into the prisoner compartment and found a place to sit by the side of the vampire, looking down at her.  She stared back at him with a calm defiance that seemed to have overcome her rage, as if she was prepared to wait as long as it took for a chance to escape.  Matt checked the bonds, noting in passing that she didn’t seem to breath, and then sat down as the vehicle lurched into life.  They’d pick up an NYPD escort until they were out of the city, and then the state police would take over.  Hopefully, the convoy should pass unnoticed.

And then maybe I can get some sleep
, he thought. 

He settled back and waited, never taking his eyes off the vampire.  The stake should keep her reasonably immobile, but Golem had warned him that it wouldn't last forever.  No one had been able to account for why it worked at all, particularly when some vampires exploded into dust when staked.  Golem’s time didn't seem to ask questions about some issues, for no apparent reason.  They didn't seem to know where vampires even came from in the first place. 

Or maybe it was simple.  They didn't want to know.

Chapter Nineteen

New York, USA

Day 24

“That’s the house,” Calvin muttered.  It had taken five days to plan the murder – no, the
sacrifice
.  “Are you sure we have to do this?”

Yes
, Harrow said.  Her presence in his mind was growing stronger and stronger. 
She is ideal for our purposes
.

Calvin winced.  He'd had to use the mind control spell on the school’s secretary, first to get her to hand over Sandra’s address and then to get her to forget that he’d ever asked for it.  No school just gave out addresses these days, but he hadn't been able to think of a simpler way of finding out what he needed to know.  Among other things, Sandra’s file had informed him that her father and mother both worked away from home on a specific night. 

He’d thought, even as he made the preparations, that he might be able to find another way, but nothing had materialised.  Harrow had carefully directed him in producing a stone knife – she’d been shocked to discover what passed for craft lessons these days – and in exactly how to carry out the sacrifice.  One mistake, she’d warned, could cause no end of trouble.  Calvin had considered backing out and going to the authorities, even if it meant having to confess to spying on the girls, but he knew that it would mean the end of his life.  Whatever deals the government was prepared to make with magicians who accidentally hurt or killed people when they discovered that they had magic for the first time, they wouldn't extend them to people who had perverted their gifts.  They’d work out that he was responsible for Gavin’s actions and then hit him with the full weight of the law. 

Cold sweat trickled down his back as he walked closer.  The vampire might have been caught – the media had been full of the news – but it hadn't stopped people from vanishing indoors as soon as the night began to fall.  It would probably be years before New York recovered, according to Calvin’s father, and business that depended upon the evening trade were suffering massive financial losses.  God alone knew what would happen in winter, when darkness fell early.  New York would probably shut down completely. 

Use the glamour
, Harrow instructed him. 
You do not want to be seen
.

“No,” Calvin said, slowly.  Feeling like a spectator in his own body, he drew the glamour around him, concealing his face behind an illusion.  He'd wanted to use an image that people would recognise – Colin, perhaps – but Harrow had convinced him that it would risk attracting more attention.  Instead, he’d copied an instantly forgettable actor in a TV show who’d had one line and nothing more.  “Here goes nothing.”

***

Sandra Yeager was bored.

She had been brought up to be an obedient daughter and, as her parents had never been very unreasonable, it had been easy for her to love and respect them, even if they
could
be embarrassing at times.  Even her father’s careful instructions on just what she could and could not do with boys, an experience that had been agonisingly embarrassing for both of them, had been loving.  They trusted her not to go too far, or to get into a position where she could no longer say no. 

But now there was a vampire in town – perhaps more than one – and her parents had specifically forbidden her to leave the house, or to invite anyone else inside.  And
anyone
included both her best friend and her boyfriend, although
he
probably wouldn't remain her boyfriend for much longer.  Sandra had made it clear that she wasn't going to go past second base until they’d been together for quite some time and men were impatient.  It didn't help that they lied to each other regularly about just how far certain girls had allowed them to go.  She paced the house, remembering their argument, and wished that she had something to do apart from homework.  Her parents had never bothered to buy a television and her father had taken the laptop with him. 

Maybe she
could
go out, she told herself.  Her parents were never back until the morning, whereupon they slept in until lunchtime, leaving Sandra to prepare the meal.  She could slip out of the house, visit a friend and then slip back again, knowing that it should be perfectly safe.  The impulse to do something – anything – warred with the fear of their disappointment if they ever found out the truth.  She didn't want to let them down.

The doorbell rang.  Sandra stopped pacing, surprised.  Visitors were rare at this time of night, even before the world had turned crazy.  Her parents rarely invited people to visit and her friends knew better than to come after nine o’clock in the evening.  She
had
been told not to open the door, but she walked forward anyway, just to see who it was.  A glance through the peephole revealed a middle-aged man who looked friendly, trustworthy and understanding.  He certainly didn't look
dangerous
...

She opened the door.  There was a flicker of warning, a sense that something was suddenly very wrong, and then the man pointed a finger at her.  All of Sandra’s strength simply drained away – she couldn't even scream – and she just stood there, helplessly.  A long moment passed and then the man finally spoke.

“Walk back into the house,” he ordered.

Sandra felt her body turning and moving of its own accord.  Raw panic rushed through her mind, only to somehow fade away into a stupefying mist that had fallen over her.  She heard the door closing behind her, followed by the latch falling into place.  How
could
she have been so stupid?  She’d allowed the vampire into her home...

The living room was her father’s pride and joy.  When they’d moved into the house, it had been nothing more than a carpeted room with painted walls and strange windows.  Over time, her father had replaced the carpeting with wooden panels, repainted the walls and covered the windows with curtains that kept out the sunlight.  The bookshelves were his particular favourites, even though his wife had pointed out that they would have more money if he stopped buying books.  Sandra stopped on his command and turned around, staring at him.  Now she had been alarmed, she could tell that there was something
fuzzy
about his appearance, as if he was a picture on a poorly-tuned television.  A moment later, the image popped completely.

Calvin
?  Astonishment warred with horror as he studied her, drinking in every aspect of her body.  Calvin was just a harmless kid, a nerd who spent most of his time being beaten by Moe and his cronies...he certainly hadn't been on the same level as Sandra herself, let alone the queen bee of their grade.  And then something clicked in her mind.  Moe and two of his friends had died in what had been called a magical accident.  She looked at Calvin and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d killed them.

Calvin seemed to swallow, as if he was nervous.  “Undress,” he ordered.  “Remove everything.  Now.”

Sandra wanted to scream, but her treacherous body betrayed her.  Her hands reached to her blouse and pulled it off, followed by her bra.  She tried to fight as her fingers removed her earrings, before reaching down and unsnapping her jeans.  Calvin’s eyes went very wide as he saw her pull down both her jeans and panties, exposing every last inch of her body.  Her hands fell by her sides as she finished undressing, allowing him to study her without impediment.  Dear God...she’d heard about rape, she’d heard about girls who allowed themselves to get drunk or drugged at the wrong time, but this was something different.  Was he going to force himself on her?

She cringed mentally as he walked around her, feeling his eyes leaving trails of slime all over her body.  No matter how much she struggled, she couldn't break free of his control, or the sense that she was completely at his mercy.  She watched with dull horror as one hand reached for her breast, only to draw back at the last moment.  Could it be that Calvin hadn't really expected to get so far? It wasn't as though he was one of the boys who was used to getting whatever he wanted.  Maybe he just wanted to stare at her...

...Or maybe it was just some kind of horrible nightmare.

“Lie down,” Calvin ordered.  Sandra felt the cold wood on her back as she lay down and knew that it was no dream.  “Spread out your hands and feet.”

He
was
going to rape her, Sandra realised.  She’d never opened her legs for anyone before, or even allowed one of her boyfriends to slip his hands into her panties.  But his order left no room for doubt.  She struggled hopelessly as her legs opened wide, beckoning him to pull down his own pants and force his way into her.  Calvin knelt down beside her, producing something from his bag.  Sandra stared in surprise as he produced something that looked like a knife made of stone.  What was he doing?  And why wasn't he kneeling between her legs?

She felt the knife pressing against her chest, just before her breasts, and suddenly realised what he had in mind.  All of a sudden, even rape seemed preferable...

***

Calvin had never been close to a naked girl before; he had never even reached first base with anyone, anyone at all.  He’d heard the bragging, of course, but he could never have bragged himself.  And yet now he was staring down at a naked girl, he felt an odd caldron of emotions spinning through his mind.  If Harrow’s cold presence hadn't been dominating his mind, giving the whole experience an eerie dreamlike air, he would have either thrown himself on her or fled. 

Sandra’s naked breasts bobbled in front of him, causing strange desires to shiver in his chest, but he ignored them as best as he could.  Instead, he pressed the knife into her skin, causing a tiny drop of blood to well up from the cut.  Sandra let out a gasp of pain, despite the controlling spell he’d slammed on her mind, reminding him that she had some
mana
sensitivity herself.  An odd feeling of compassion welled through him and he found himself casting a spell to numb her.  There was no reason why she had to suffer as well as die for his ambitions.

He sensed Harrow’s laughter as he finished carving the first symbol into Sandra’s body.  It was a complex pattern that reminded him of the Star of David, but with additional lines that seemed to help channel the
mana
.  Patiently, using his gloved hands, he dabbled them in the blood and used it to mark out a thin circle surrounding Sandra’s helpless body.  A moment later, once the circle was complete, he carved the next four symbols into her hands and feet, symbols that would release the
mana
.  Runes, Harrow had called them, although she hadn't been too clear on how they actually worked.  Reading between the lines, Calvin suspected that no one had dared look too closely at the theory, even the Thirteen.  It could be dangerous to the unwary.

His entire body trembling, he stepped back – careful not to place his foot on the blood – and surveyed his handiwork.  Sandra’s chest had stopped bleeding and the symbol he’d carved on her stood out clearly against her pale skin; the other four symbols looked dimmer, but they were already bleeding
mana
.  Not much, not yet, but enough to convince him that he had to hurry.  Time was running out.

But he hesitated.  Killing Moe had been one thing – the bully had deserved it – but this was something different.  He was about to end a human life, a life that had ignored him rather than bullied him, treated him as if he didn't exist rather than something to pick on, to torment and degrade.  There were other girls he might have chosen to kill, but Sandra?  Sandra was guilty of little more than ignoring him.

You have gone too far
, Harrow said, again. 
She will die now.  The runes you carved on her will make sure of that.  All you can do now is ensure that she does not die for nothing, but for the cause of rebuilding the world as it should have been.

Calvin swallowed hard, lifted the knife, and stepped forward one final time.

***

Sandra had watched numbly as Calvin worked on her body.  At first, the cuts had hurt badly, beyond anything she’d ever imagined, and then her entire body had just seemed to lose all sensitivity to pain.  She'd felt him carving into her hands and feet, and then stepping back to study what he'd done, but even the fear had drained away into nothingness.  Instead, she just waited to see what would happen next.

I’m sorry
, she thought, wishing that she could speak to her parents one last time.  She’d opened the door and allowed a monster into their home.  Calvin was carving one final symbol into her body, just above the groin.  A rapist would have been very preferable. 
I’m so sorry
...