Vampire Miami (16 page)

Selah stood still.
Wait here till
tonight
. She knew what that meant. There was no Dragon to step
into the room and clear her of all charges. She would have to
answer for her crimes. She knew what happened to those associated
with the Resistance. They just disappeared. This was perhaps the
first step. How many others had been placed in this very apartment
and told to wait?

She could try to escape. Just out of curiosity,
idle speculation, she walked up to the glass sliding doors at the
back of the living room that led out onto a balcony. Tugged at the
handles. They were locked. She tried each window in each room. Also
locked. There was nothing to throw through them. She stood, hands
on her hips, thinking. In
Nowhere to Run
, Brad Dancer had
wrapped his fist in his shirt and punched in a car window. A lot of
people had said he should’ve broken every bone in his hand, but who
knew?

Who was she kidding. Run where? For how long?
And put Mama B and the rest of the Palisades in trouble? No. Selah
went back to the living room. Sat down on the pure white carpet,
then lay back with a sigh. The nap felt soft beneath her skin, and
she slowly rubbed her forearms up and down, enjoying the sensation.
It turned out you could only be terrified for so long, and then you
grew numb, she decided. Or perhaps she was just that tired. It had
been another long night. She closed her eyes and remembered the
solitary airplane descending from the night sky toward the Miami
Airport, filling the world with thunder. After another moment,
Selah stopped thinking of even that, and slept.

Selah awoke to the sound of someone at the door.
Curled on her side, hands tucked under her chin, she blinked
blearily, sore and aching as the lock opened and somebody shoved
the door open. She pushed herself up and saw Hector had returned.
She winced—his bruise had flowered, deepened its blossom into a
startling array of purples and jaundiced yellows at the edges,
claiming half his face. His left eye was bloodshot, and this
development had clearly done nothing for his mood. If she’d hoped
for a softening given their last exchange, she was clearly out of
luck.

“Up,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Selah stood. No point in arguing. Outside the
world had grown dark. The windows faced east, and though this
apartment didn’t have much elevation, she could see that the
distant edge of the world had already cooled and grown grim.
Nighttime. The vampires had awoken.

Stretching, feeling the first drumbeat of fear
in her gut, she forced a yawn so as to appear nonchalant and curled
her spine to the side, working out a kink. Hector waited
impatiently by the door. Before he could complain, she stepped into
the kitchen and ran the tap so as to briskly wash her face. That
helped some, and she felt her stomach grumble with hunger. When had
she last eaten? Ah, well. It probably wouldn’t matter. Not in the
long run.

“Who am I seeing?” she asked, knowing he
wouldn’t tell her.

“Let’s go.”

“What does he want with me?”

“Selah. Let’s go.”

“Should I wear something nice?” She stared at
him, and saw him realize that she was messing with him. His face
hardened and he simply glared. With a sweet smile she floated past
him, out into the hallway. She hadn’t lost her touch. Hector closed
the door, locked it, and then went to the elevator. No sign of the
second guy. Ramon? Hector ignored her as he summoned the elevator.
She studied his bruise.

“I’m sorry, by the way, for throwing you into
the wall like that.”

Hector ignored her.

“I didn’t mean to throw you that hard.”

She saw a band of muscle appear over his
jaw.

“Honestly, I had no idea it was so easy to smack
you around.”

He whirled on her, hands in fists, and just then
the elevator doors dinged open. He reached over and shoved her into
the elevator, following after. This time he did press the PH
button, and that sobered her up.

Deep breaths. Time to prepare herself. They
would ask her about everything she knew on the Resistance, she
would tell them she didn’t know anything, and then they would drink
her blood and kill her. Or did they want to know about her father’s
investigation? She paused, eyed Hector warily. Maybe she should try
to get them to drink her blood as quickly as possible. Repeat last
night’s experience. With that kind of energy and strength, she
could probably bust her way out of here. Hope died in her chest. To
what end? No matter how she tried to resist, all options resulted
in bad guys visiting Mama B.

The elevator slowed and then stopped. The doors
opened with a soft chime, and Hector escorted her out, hand on her
elbow. There was a small landing with three ornate doors, each
leading in a different cardinal direction. Each had a security
guard posted outside it. Dressed in black, they wore MPD
bulletproof jackets and looked like very capable men. They eyed her
dispassionately, and Hector nodded to the man in the middle who
spoke into his Omni. Selah studied him. Broad chin, skin like
sandpaper, lipless mouth. He looked strong and mean enough to
strangle a live deer. The kind who would just dig in until the job
was done.

“Let them in,” said a voice in response over the
Omni. The guard stepped aside and opened the door. Hector prodded
her forward, through the door and into a large, marble-floored
entrance. The ceiling was low here, but three shallow steps ahead
descended into a sweeping living room with fantastic views of Miami
and the sunset. Hallways led off immediately to her right and left.
No time to get her bearings, though. Hector hustled her forward
with unnecessary roughness, down the steps, and then jerked her
back as if she’d been about to sprint forward.

A huge continuous window wrapped around the wall
before her, nearly floor to ceiling, and the view was stupendous.
She gazed out over the darkened city, looking inland she realized,
away from the ocean. A western view. The buildings rapidly lost
size but a few blocks in, and then sprawled out in a seeming
endless plain, crisscrossed by roads and avenues and sunken in a
great verdant choking mass of trees. A few lights gleamed here and
there, twinkling orange in the dusk, and in the distance she could
see the sinuous line of the Wall, swooping all around the city and
shining a with a thousand diamond-white pinpricks of lights. The
spotlights.

It was the sky that caught her eyes, though,
that held them. Miami had stunning skies, a vast canvas that seemed
wider and deeper than any she’d seen in Brooklyn or elsewhere. The
clouds piled upon each other like great anvils, mighty towering
cumulus clouds that seemed to have been dipped in blood, their
upper reaches already grown dark, fading to slate blues and lead
grays, while their lower extremities were angry and inflamed,
tinged by russets, crimsons, and burgundy. They spread out over the
city, a floating battalion, a searing coruscation, so beautiful and
striking that at first Selah didn’t even notice the other two men
in the room.

They’d been content to wait, to study her as she
stared out the windows, Hector’s hand still on her arm, fingers
cruelly pinching her elbow. But their fixed attention drew her own,
and she turned to look at them, heart lurching into her throat. The
beauty outside had been one final blessing from the world, a last
benediction. She couldn’t keep her mind out there, however. It was
time to face her fate.

They were both vampires, and she knew one of
them. She’d hoped that the Dragon might be present, that he might
speak on her behalf, but he wasn’t, and now he never would.
Instead, she saw the vampire from last night, dressed in a beige
linen suit with a powder-blue shirt beneath. He was sprawled
bonelessly in one of the chairs set at a dining table that seemed
as long as a bowling alley lane. Was staring at her with
undisguised hatred undercut by fear and made complicated by
curiosity.
Great
.

The second vampire was the first’s opposite in
every way. Where the first was handsome, languorous, almost feline,
the second was dressed in an ill-fitting gray suit that failed to
look sharp on his short, rotund form. He was in his mid-fifties
perhaps, with an egg-shaped head that wasn’t helped by the thinning
blond hair that failed to cover his scalp. Small, rimless glasses
caught the light and at times became opaque, hiding his eyes, which
for Selah was a blessing—never had she seen a gaze so cold, so
penetrating, and analytical as that which came from his black
eyes.

With a shock, Selah realized that she knew who
he was. Karl Plessy, the chief of staff who served the first three
presidents during the War, one after the other as each was
vampirized until he too was taken. She had actually studied him in
class. Was supposed to know what his policies had been, and why
they’d generated so much controversy. Something about the first
curfew? Executions? Selah couldn’t remember. She remembered Mr.
Condarcuri explaining how Plessy had been the real power behind the
third president, who’d once been the Speaker of the House.
Something like that.

Selah realized she was staring. Karl met her
gaze with ease, a slight smile on his small, soft lips. She dropped
her eyes. What was he doing here? What was this about? Did he
interview all suspected Resistance leaders?

“Thank you, Hector. That will be all,” said
Karl. Hector let go of her elbow and did a little half bow, which
might, under different circumstances, have been comical. He turned
and marched out. Selah swallowed. She couldn’t believe she was
actually wishing that Hector had stayed. “Good evening, Miss Brown.
Would you like something to drink?”

Selah felt an almost manic urge to ask for some
blood, but kept her lips sealed. Simply shook her head.

Karl nodded. “People in your situation never
accept that first offer. It’s interesting. Accepting something as
innocuous as a glass of water is almost invariably seen as a form
of capitulation. As if by accepting it from me, you are
surrendering in some form, revealing weakness. It’s quite a
fascinating little exchange, really. I should stop asking, but I
enjoy it so. Never mind.”

Selah watched him, confused by his genial tone,
the light manner in which he spoke. He must’ve been trying to lower
her guard. She stayed quiet.

“You have caused quite a fuss these past two
days. Popped up on our radar with surprising frequency. First you
trigger an alarm at Magnum over the sheer amount of bandwidth your
recording used. Then you are rather predictably contacted by the
Resistance. An opening that would’ve resulted in a nice little coup
for us, had certain objectives been carried out in a more
professional manner.”

At this, the other vampire stirred with
annoyance, much like a snake might shift its coils if lightly poked
with a stick.

“Still,” said Karl, “all of that is of a
pedestrian nature. What has brought me here tonight in person is
what happened after that. Most fascinating. A rarity that I have
only read about in dusty tomes. One moment Charles here is rather
impulsively drinking your blood, the next you are attacking
Ekaterina on the Beach with sufficient speed and agility to
actually make it hard to track you on our security cameras.”

Selah felt her stomach knot. She pursed her
lips, kept her silence. Karl didn’t seem to mind.

“Charles here reports that he spent most of last
night paralyzed by such an onslaught of emotion that he could
barely act. How did you put it?” Karl turned to the other.
“‘Regret, guilt, joy, the works’? Most interesting. Whereas you
suddenly started gallivanting about town with all the apparent
blessings of the vampiric state.”

Karl paused and studied her, that little smile
still hovering on his lips. Selah looked away, stared at the
clouds. They were growing ashen now, the last of the reds fading
completely. There really was nothing for her to say.

“I myself am still learning much about my new
condition,” said Karl. “Even seven years later, this can all feel
quite new. Yet I have not wasted my time. I have always enjoyed
research, and in all my studies and conversations, even with those
whose embrace goes back hundreds of years, I have only ever heard
of a case such as yours three times. In all the accumulated lore my
kind has gathered! Could this be a similar case as those first
three? If so, what an opportunity! What are its potential
implications? How does it work? As you can imagine, the questions
are significant, and in need a thorough, perhaps even scientific
investigation.”

Those last words sent goosebumps down Selah’s
arms and she clenched her fingers. She still refused to look at
him. He’d done nothing more than speak gently, but already she
hated him. Felt repulsed by his softness, distrusted his gentility
completely. He had also failed to mention her father’s files. Had
they not uncovered them? Or were they simply of no consequence in
comparison to his interest in her blood? The silence stretched out.
She tried to quiet her breathing, realized that hers was the only
breath to be heard. Horror spread through her.

“So you don’t want to know about the
Resistance?” She couldn’t help but ask. Hope to redirect his
attention.

Charles smirked, and Karl waved one hand as if
knocking away a fly. “The Resistance? Hardly. I doubt you have much
to tell me, and really, they aren’t much of a problem. This is
infinitely more fascinating. However.” Selah looked at him at this
last. His smile had disappeared, so that he looked like a solemn
child. “If I am new to this new existence, Charles is but a babe.
How long has it been, my good friend, since you joined our
ranks?”

“You know very well,” said Charles, his voice
sullen, almost sulky.

“Five months? Did you know that Charles sought
us out?” Karl turned back to Selah. She looked to Charles and saw
his brow contract with anger. He gazed out the window. “Indeed,”
continued Karl. “He is one of the Nouveau Vampires. That’s a play
on the term
nouveau riche
, you see. They were the merchant
upstarts who made so much money, they managed to insinuate
themselves amongst the nobility, back in the day. They often
married their way into noble families, or simply purchased outright
a title complete with coat of arms and obligatory honors.”