Vampire Miami (28 page)

Selah sat up, breathing rapidly. Where was she?
Where was everybody? She looked about the room with a new focus.
Large, heavy wooden beams crossed the ceiling. No decorations but
for a large, ornate dreamcatcher on the wall over the bed. She
swung her legs over the edge and saw that she was wearing soft
flannel pajamas, faded blue and just slightly too large for her.
Stood, and then paused. She wasn’t hurt. She touched her hand to
her forehead. Nothing, not a scratch. She felt well rested, she
felt good. That couldn’t be.

Selah padded around the great bed. A large fur
rug was thrown across the floor at its foot. Brown and thick, soft
under her bare feet, a bear’s head attached to one end, claws at
each corner. She moved to the bedroom door, paused, and listened.
Silence. Selah hesitated, and looked at the window. She could slip
out, into the garden. Escape. The idea was but momentarily
attractive. Escape where? She didn’t even know where she was. And
they wouldn’t have left the window open if they weren’t confident
of trapping her should she try to flee. But it was more than that.
She had to know how her friends and family were. She had to
ask.

She opened the door. Beyond was a living room, a
fire burning in a stone fireplace, crackling and spitting and
sending shadows dancing and leaping across the walls. A huge
flat-screen television occupied one wall, larger than any she’d
ever seen, as tall as she was and twice as wide. A sun climbed
forth in slow motion, setting morning clouds aflame, bright and
brilliant, its light liquid gold and quicksilver white. By its
light and that of the fire, she saw the man seated on a similar fur
rug in the center of the room. He’d been watching the TV screen,
but when she opened the door, he turned his gaze toward her.

Selah froze, transfixed. There was such dolorous
weight and majesty to his gaze, such penetrating power. The room
faded away into shadow; his eyes were two jet-black coals that
stripped her down to her core, peeled back all her layers and left
her naked and vulnerable to the cruel wisdom and insight he
possessed. She felt herself shrinking, curling into herself, unable
to bear their weight, their scrutiny. Then he looked away, and
raised one hand to indicate the space on the rug before him.

Selah took a shuddering breath, then a second
one. Felt as if she’d just stepped out from under a glacially cold
waterfall, her body shocked, numbed, yet awakened by the electric
intensity of the experience. She had no choice in the matter. She
stepped over to the rug and gingerly sat cross-legged before
him.

His face was beaten bronze, wide and with harsh
cheeks. His mouth a disapproving slit, his nose flat, angular. His
black hair parted down the center and wove into two short braids
that hung down to each clavicle, intertwined with strips of cloth.
But his appearance, his features, they were meaningless. They
didn’t seem to be
him.
It was what burned beneath his skin,
what smoldered within his eyes, that was the real man. Vampire. He
wore human form, but was as far from human as one could imagine. It
was as if winter were seated before her in the guise of a human, or
a wolf, or the embodiment of silence. There were vast voids and
depths to him, spaces she could not fathom, all of them contained
within his body.

He was wearing, she realized with a shock, a
Superman T-shirt. That caused her to jerk her head back perhaps an
inch at the dissonance of it. His face remained inscrutable. She
looked down at her hands, suddenly confused. A Superman shirt?

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. It came to her,
then. Who this had to be. Whom she had been brought to. Sawiskera.
The lord of Miami, the vampire king, Theo’s sire, the most powerful
vampire known to man. Her hands tightened into fists. She stared
fixedly at the ground, trembling. This … this thing—had been
walking the earth for millennia. If people were right. He was older
than most countries. Selah’s mind raced. Sawiskera. Here. Before
her.

Then she relaxed. All the tension flowed from
her like blood from slit wrists. Her shoulders slumped, and she
lifted her face to look at him. So this was it. She wouldn’t have
to kill herself after all. He would do it for her. Karl’s last
present, no doubt, to the most powerful vampire there was. Would he
drink from her? Would she gain his powers? She blinked. Could that
happen? Would that be her escape? No. He would know of the
consequences of drinking her blood. Would understand, and wouldn’t
risk it. Would he?

She swallowed. Why wasn’t he talking? He just
stared at her. Those implacable eyes. She looked down again. Either
way, events were now out of her control. She could not escape, not
from him. She couldn’t resist him, either. The likes of Jocasta and
Theo were children compared to this creature.

The fire crackled and gave off a pleasant smoky
smell. Silence. Resigned, she waited. There didn’t seem to be any
point in asking him about her family. She felt as if he wouldn’t
understand, be able to answer. So she waited.

One moment he was seated before her, and the
next he wasn’t. He was simply kneeling before her, one hand
reaching out to gently brush her cheek with the back of his index
finger. There had been no intervening movement. His face was grave,
his eyes locked on her own, his touch cool and sure, moving down
the curve of her cheek, and she couldn’t think, couldn’t think at
all.

“Do you love another?” His voice was soft,
strangely accented, and she couldn’t speak, couldn’t formulate a
response. But he looked into her eyes and seemed to read the answer
in her very soul, and what he saw caused him to nod. When skin
contact broke, it was as if she had been given the ability to
breathe again, and she gasped, rocking back, blinking furiously as
tears filled her eyes. She reached up and wiped them away, and
realized that he was gone.

Selah stood. Turned wildly, nearly tripped. He
was gone. Not in the corner, not by the TV, just disappeared. The
sun on the screen had barely cleared the horizon, she saw, creating
a glorious morning. Disoriented, confused, she stepped to the
bedroom door, peered within. Nothing. Turned back. What should she
do? Find a weapon? Escape? Wait? Was he coming back?

Unnerved, near panic, she heard a door open and
then close in a further room. Decidedly normal sounds. She
straightened, smoothed down her clothing. Lifted her chin. The door
to the living room opened, and Karl Plessy stepped inside.

He was turning to close the door when Selah ran
at him with a scream torn from her soul. No thought, no decision,
just an upwelling of hatred so profound, so utter and total, she
could do nothing else. She lashed at him with both fists, trying to
batter his face, but he caught her wrists with each, a genial smile
on his soft face.

“Now, now,” he said, and cast her down onto the
rug. She fell hard, cracking her knee and elbow, but struggled back
up only to receive a kick in the stomach. All the breath went out
of her, and Karl placed both hands on his hips, watching to see if
she would try another attack. He moved, fast, terribly fast, but
she’d been able to see him move. Blur, even. Which once would have
been terrifying, but now, after Sawiskera, was almost
comforting.

“Calm down, Selah, calm down. Let’s not get
excited. I mean, there
is
cause for excitement, genuinely
good things are in the works, but let’s not get carried away,
hmm?”

Selah lay heaving, fighting for breath. Motes of
colored light danced in her vision, and finally she inhaled
terribly, sucking air back into her lungs, wheezing and panting in
pain. Karl laughed, and moved over to stare at the TV screen. He
watched the sunrise for a moment, and then shook his head. Turned
back to her, waiting.

Finally, Selah sat up, her breath under control.
She wanted to claw out his eyes, tear that smile from his pudgy
face, but didn’t try. Knew she couldn’t. So she poured her hatred
into her gaze, despite knowing that would simply amuse him
further.

“Well, the good news is that Sawiskera has
accepted you as my gift. Good news for me, I suppose. You are to be
his. I don’t know quite what he plans to do with you, but I’m sure
he’s learned some tricks in his time that would put Jocasta to
shame, eh? Ha. Poor Jocasta. What a disaster that night turned out
to be for her! And to think, Theo got caught up in all that mess.
How unfortunate for all involved. Ah, well, live and learn.”

Selah stood. “Where is my grandmother? Maria
Elena? What has happened to my friends?”

“Oh, right. More good news. Everybody is fine.”
Selah closed her eyes and felt a flood of relief wash over her.
“Well, almost everybody. That driver fellow is quite dead, and both
of the people on the motorbikes. They were unfortunately shot,
several times, but, well, you really
shouldn’t
shoot at
security, now, should you?”

“Both of them?” Selah felt her relief drain out
of her. “No. Please, no.”

“Sorry. Your grandmother is fine, albeit a
little sore, and my, does she have a mouth on her. A few slaps shut
her up, though. She’s being returned to the Palisades, as is your
friend. Maria Elena, is it? No problems there.”

Two bikers were killed. There had been three.
Selah waited, eyes bright. Unable to ask. To see which of her
friends had died. Thought miserably:
Cloud
.

“Oh, one last thing. Your friend, Cloud? The
Resistance leader? Our dashing rebel? He’s alive and well. He’s
being held prisoner, of course.”

“What—”
Thank you, Lord
, she thought,
trying to stand steady, to not let her knees shake. “What’s going
to happen to him?”

“You know how these things are. You can’t expect
to lead a resistance movement and get away with it, can you? He’s
going to be entered into the next Freedom Fight against our current
champion. A small example, shall we say, to all other like-minded
fools.”

That was too much. Despite her resolve to be
strong, to show no fear before this monster, she couldn’t take so
much all at once. She sank down to the rug and buried her face in
her hands. Cholly was dead. Joey and Cassie were dead. She couldn’t
even process that. Cloud was being held for a Freedom Fight. She
stared, dry-eyed, at nothing. Her mind numb. She had no more tears,
she realized. No more tears.

“Now, I know this comes as a shock, but this is
what happens when you break a deal with me. I would apologize, but,
well,
you
were the one who broke the deal. I actually think
I’m being quite lenient by letting your grandmother and friend go
home. I
should
have them killed, but what can I say? I feel
sorry for your situation. It is rather tragic, really. So consider
that a small gift from me, and proof that I do indeed have a
sympathetic heart.”

She looked up at him. Something in her stare
made him lose the smile. “Well then. I have other things to attend
to. You’ll be transported to a holding cell until all this gets
wrapped up, and then I’ll present you formally to Sawiskera next
week at a public event. Something to look forward to, I suppose.”
His tone had grown hard, cold. He stared at her as if she were but
a hunk of meat. “Until then, Selah.” With that he turned and left.
Closed the door behind him.

Selah sat still. It was too much. She couldn’t
process it. She thought of Cassie helping her pick out her dress on
Miracle Mile, her sarcasm and grouchy protectiveness, her lopsided
smile. Thought of Joey meeting her in that dark bar, his face lit
by a single flame. Cholly. Cholly and his hopes for Mama B. How he
had done everything to impress her, to try and win her over. His
nappy hair, his lumbering walk, his big eyes as he watched the
world. Selah’s shoulders shook, and she lowered her head.
Cloud
, she thought.
Oh, Cloud.

Selah was moved from the small house and placed
in a security van. She didn’t look around, didn’t take much notice
of anything. She felt numb and without life. Defeated. This was the
end. At least her grandmother had gotten out alive, but Selah knew
Mama B. She’d be devastated. Maybe the fight would go out of her
too. There was no point in thinking things through. In looking for
new options. Friends were dead because of her. Friends were still
going to die. Enough. She wouldn’t fight anymore.

They drove north. The van rumbled and shook over
the cracked roads. They drove for some time. Where did Sawiskera
live, she wondered? The moment of curiosity died. What did it
matter? They arrived. The back doors were opened, Selah was dragged
out, hands cuffed behind her back. She watched everything take
place from miles away. They were downtown, it looked like. Across
the pavement, and into the back of a high-rise through a loading
dock. Selah didn’t struggle, didn’t fight. Barely walked. The two
men half dragged her, half pulled her along. Into a service
elevator, and then down a couple of floors. Out and into a concrete
corridor. Basement levels, bowel of the building. It was cool down
here, the dominant sound the distant hum of vast machinery. Along
the corridor, past various doors. They stopped before one, and
somebody opened it. Stepped inside, and she saw actual jail cells,
old school, each cell with bars as thick as her wrist. It looked
like something out of a Wild West movie. The bars emerged from the
ground and went straight into the ceiling. Three cells, and she was
thrown into the one at the farthest left.

The men departed, but she didn’t care. She
stared at the occupant in the cell to the farthest right. Theo. He
sat against the concrete wall, wrists on his knees, watching her
with flat, black eyes. Simple black shirt, jeans, feet bare on the
floor. Silence. She could feel the hum of machinery through the
ground. Selah scooted back against the wall, facing him. Watched
him through the bars. He didn’t seem hurt. Just trapped. A
prisoner, an animal, like she was.