Vampire Babylon - Midnight Reign Part 22

Standing, his loose robes fluttering around him in the night wind, Sorin closed the phone without another thought.

He melded Awareness with the Master. Success?

Lately, they had been exercising a higher level of Awareness, a deeper connection that had grown lax during more peaceful times.

Thus, Sorin could almost feel the cold of a bare room, one of the Underground holding areas where the Master was presently standing.

Jessica Reese's killer, the Master said. Even after my most recent miscalculations, we've found our troublemaker!

Jarred to action, Sorin headed out of the entrance tunnel, accessing a secret door, one of many leading farther underground.

Who...what...how...? There were a legion of questions streaming through him at once.

One of our Servants a.s.signed to tail the Limpet suspects. .h.i.t paydirt. They caught our murderer coming out of a second victim's apartment tonight, fresh from a new kill.

Master, this is good, very good....

Hold on-the new body was found by human witnesses before our Servants could get to it and destroy any evidence that might lead to more publicity.

No.

Yes, but that's beyond our control now. But we can control what happens from here on out.

Questions continued to baffle Sorin. Who, why, when-? Specifics are not my concern, Sorin, not right now. Spies have our killer in custody. And I have something in mind....

What?

A plan that's going to strike a blow to Limpet, and he's never going to know where it came from. It's going to keep us safely on the sidelines, but it's also going to flush our enemy out. We can disable and expose them, and the best part is-we don't have to do any of the dirty work. I've thought of every angle.

At the very idea, Sorin halted in his tracks in front of the last rock door that led to the Underground itself. Vision breaking, he was unable to take another step.

What do you have planned, Master?

He felt his father smile. I'm going to make an offer that any true vampire would never turn down.

Members.h.i.+p in the Underground.

Yes, but that members.h.i.+p wouldn't last for long. I won't keep a common street murderer around.

Sorin agreed with that much, yet what of the rest?

As far as I know from initial spy contact, the Master thought, our killer has a Lee Tomlinson fetish. Our spies were able to finesse that our buddy wants to be like Lee, and Lee, of course, wanted to be one of us. With what I have in mind, we'll make sure these murders won't shed any more light on vampire activity, and we'll indirectly disable Limpet. Two birds with one stone. We'll level a preemptive strike that won't be traced back to us once the deed is done. Afterward, if Limpet really is our enemy, I guarantee he'll expose himself- And we'll be waiting.

With merely a touch, Sorin coolly unlocked the door in the granite wall and entered the emporium. Instead of the usual lazy activity, the place was exploding with aggression. Near the waterfall lagoon, Groupies were practicing the change, going in and out of their vampiric forms, challenging each other in hand-to-hand combat with blades. Their speed would blur the eye of a human, but to Sorin, the battles unwrapped with clarified grace. Under a screen, a close-knit band of Elites was studying a movie, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, imitating high-flying aerial fight moves and taking them one step further by attaching themselves to the walls, using the planes as platforms to fight. None had altered into their most dangerous forms yet, though Sorin knew that would be in the coming.

Master, Sorin asked, seeing only the gray walls where his father waited, where are you? I can come to represent you- I'm going to take care of this one.

His protective instincts stirred. The Master had been shapes.h.i.+fting into solid ma.s.s more and more lately, ever since the threat to the Underground had reawakened him.

Suddenly, via the Awareness, Sorin heard a door open. The Master did not look to see who had entered the room. Instead he kept staring at the gray wall. His fury had been stoked by the presence of this killer-Sorin could feel this keenly.

Shortcuts, the Master thought. This idiot thought it'd be possible to take a shortcut to stardom, just like Lee Tomlinson ended up doing.

Sorin said what he knew his father wanted to hear. Stardom is earned.

Stars are born, the Master corrected, paying homage to his darling Elites.In the background, a Servant private investigator greeted the Master in a deep, affable tone. "Look who we have for interrogation."

The head vampire smiled again, and Sorin knew the wheels of their fate were about to be set into motion. The day help them, this was it, the beginning of the end for either Limpet or the Underground.

n.o.body is going to take it away from us again, the Master a.s.sured Sorin just before turning around to greet the murderer.

The Awareness scrambled, slicing colors and angles together until Sorin could not see.

"Who are you-?" began the garbled voice of the murderer.

Then the connection exploded into nothing, leaving Sorin staring at the Elite's movie screen, two warriors rising, then flying at each other over the rooftops.

The Master's reawakening was complete.

Yet, that is what Sorin had also believed over fifty years ago, back when a second Underground had seemed to be just the thing to resurrect Benedikte from his sorrows.

SEVENTEEN.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, 1954.

N OW , there is a specimen," Sorin said as he and Benedikte exited the Chadwick Arms Hotel on Wils.h.i.+re Boulevard. "Who would protest his absence?"

Benedikte glanced at the man Sorin indicated. The tattered threads of his clothing clashed with the white tuxedo jackets and black bowties he and his son wore.

A b.u.m, they called this type. A man whose outer dishevelment mirrored the inner Benedikte: ravaged and lifeless.

At Sorin's comment, the man lifted a dull gaze and an empty fedora hat to the vampires as they pa.s.sed.

"Spare any change?"

A hotel doorman rushed over. "You leave these gentlemen alone! Out...." He shooed the b.u.m away. "Go on now."

Sorin lifted a grateful hand to the employee and turned back to Benedikte, matching his pace as they headed for the sidewalk this summer's evening. "Are you certain you would not rather hail a cab?"

Benedikte carelessly switched into Awareness mode, knowing he was taking a chance on being discovered by another blood brother, but not caring. Normally, simple s.h.i.+elding was all they dared do Above since it wasn't easy to detect. Yet, what did he have to lose now?

I prefer to stalk at the moment, thank you. It's the only way to play tourist.

As day bowed under the coming weight of night, he noted that so much about this walk should've been a miracle: the Technicolor glamour of a city that housed all the silver-screen stars he adored, the sight of the sun, the wonder of being a preternatural creature among men.

But even as Benedikte's blood simmered at the scent of human life, he couldn't enjoy it. Not since London, when he'd discovered that everything was meaningless. It had broken his will to realize that even brothers didn't have enough honor to stand by a code. So why have one of his own? Why not kill and pillage at random? Why protect a brotherhood that would end up destroying itself before the true maker could awaken from his deep sleep?

Not that Sorin agreed with this. No, the younger vampire still had dreams of "making a family," fantasies of another place he could call home.

Even now his son was going on about his latest idea: Guards for a second Underground.

"...The perfect build, Master. I could take such a man, even a transient in a fedora, and mold him into a soldier who would protect our territory. A first line of defense. Imagine if we had possessed a small army of Guards when Andre attacked."

Home.

The concept floated through Benedikte briefly, but then he rejected it. Too soon for another one, too impossible. It would only be destroyed again.

To distract himself, he took up the trail of a redhead who walked with a bluesy sway to her hips. He imagined she was rus.h.i.+ng to meet a lover at a motel. Benedikte fantasized about intercepting her there, erasing her wanton behavior by grabbing her hair, twisting back her neck to expose a ripe vein, drinking until she was drained. Then, he could make her over into what a woman should be-innocent, inspiring, and sedate.

That sounded just about right. During the last thirty years, he'd been lucky, never getting caught in his excesses, always fleeing from city to city before his victims could be discovered. It was an existence Sorin despised because he had, of course, come up with a far more civil plan to make everything easier. A plan that would allow them to settle in a place closer to Heaven than Benedikte would ever get.

Secrecy, Sorin kept saying. Remember how well it worked in London before we grew careless?

At the sound of Benedikte's heedless footfalls, the woman looked over her shoulder. The vampires nodded and smiled in return.

Two well-heeled men out for a summer stroll. That was all.

She picked up her pace and darted into a market. My, my. Sharp instincts.

As they continued down the sidewalk, Sorin thought, She felt us. Do you not think a woman with such perceptiveness would make a proper vampire daughter for you? Think of how she would always hide her tracks.

Benedikte rolled his eyes. How many times do I need to tell you I'm not interested in more children?

Master, I see your face before you lay yourself to rest. I hear your lonely thoughts. Stop lying to me.

Benedikte kept walking.

You are reluctant, Sorin added. You fear a new Underground will end up like the old, but I tell you, we can antic.i.p.ate your blood brothers' tricks, if any should cross us again. Do you not long for a rest, Master? Have you not already fallen in love with this town and wished to become a part of it?

They pa.s.sed an Italian restaurant, garlic wafting out from the ivy-decorated trellises. It had no effect on Benedikte; immunity to the herb's properties was one of his personal talents, and his blood had pa.s.sed it on to Sorin. He wished he had thought to use that sort of one-way repulsion on Andre back when- He didn't want to think of London. Didn't want to think of how, since those times, he'd cultivated such a sh.e.l.l that nothing got through to him anyway. Feeling cancelled, he spent much of his time in vaporous form, though Sorin had convinced Benedikte to s.h.i.+ft into his old body and hit the streets tonight."Stop wallowing in grief," his son had said. "We have collected a fortune throughout the years, so let us enjoy it. Let us at least pretend to have a life in this town where imagination makes the prospect so simple."

Why not, the Master had apathetically agreed. It might break the monotony, if nothing else.

Beyond the Italian restaurant, they pa.s.sed a church, which brought a wooden laugh from Benedikte. It wasn't until, farther down, they came to a movie theater that the Master paused under the s.h.i.+ning marquee.

With a mocking smile to Sorin, he bowed to the altar of film, then set off on his stalk again. He knew his son understood the cruel joke, the absence of rules that allowed them both to exist. After London, even Sorin had lost some faith, becoming numb to spiritual meaning and, therefore, increasingly immune to it, as well.

But, again, maybe the immunity was only another talent. A destiny.

Before long, they arrived at the Amba.s.sador Hotel, where a pocketful of cash would buy them some mindless leisure, if they were lucky. And if they were really fortunate, maybe there'd even be something tasty on the menu.

Smile, Master, Sorin thought as they walked beneath the awning of the Cocoanut Grove. Out of all places, I thought this should make you the happiest.

When they paused at the entrance, a blast of music, color, and joviality hit Benedikte's vampire senses, overwhelming him.

Sorin was right. Happiness was all over the menu.

A band played a Tony Bennett tune onstage, leading a floor full of perfect people to dance and laugh. Palm trees from The Sheik, Rudolph Valentino's biggest movie, spread their leaves over what looked to be a Moorish palace, complete with gilded pillars and tables clothed in white. Small table lamps cast golden lights on the jubilant faces of men and women wearing evening gowns, minks, and diamonds.

Consumed by the l.u.s.trous haze, the vampire took a step forward, recognizing one of his idols dining and mingling. Lana Turner, using her dimples on a willing romantic victim.

As he and Sorin flashed their money and were shown to a table, the word home consumed the vampire again. It was all he could do to remain in his seat, taking in everything while holding his breath.

Time moved in a breeze, heavy with an intoxicating twist that he hadn't experienced since meeting Sorin-a night that had changed the path of his wanderings. And, at some point, when his son left him alone, Benedikte barely noticed.

He was too wrapped in the perfumes, the throb of a hundred heartbeats entwining through his own veins.

Eventually, when Sorin came back, presumably from dancing, Benedikte focused on his son, vision finally locking into place.

"Care to take a turn?" the younger vampire asked, arms around the waists of two beautiful women smiling with red-lipstick confidence. Twins, with their black hair worn as short as Liz Taylor's, eyes big and blue, skin pale and tempting.

Benedikte's l.u.s.t suddenly reared up, beating in time to a rumba the band was now playing.

"Hey, hey, hold on there!" A man with sparkling hazel eyes, also clad in a tuxedo, came up behind Sorin. He had a wide, youthful smile with a flop of brown hair covering most of his brow. It took Benedikte a moment to absorb that he was staring at one of Hollywood's biggest actors, Edward Waters.

The star took one of the twins by the hand. "Are you stealing my partner?"

He wasn't angry, and Benedikte knew that Sorin had already read this, too. Even so, the younger vampire inclined his head toward the actor, graciously surrendering only one twin."Quite the gentleman," Edward Waters said, duly impressed. He stuck out his hand to Sorin and introduced himself.

When the actor turned to Benedikte, the vampire laughed. Actually laughed. "We're acquainted by way of the screen. I'm Benny." His masquerade name.

Sorin had shaken Edward's hand without deigning to offer his own moniker. "You're familiar with Geneva and Ginny?"

The girls fawned over Edward, saying they knew him well.

The matinee idol gestured to a nearby table, where slick-haired men with cigars enjoyed their steaks. With a boyish bow of the head, he said, "I'm trying to make my way over there. Dealmakers. One of them's got a part I'd sell my soul for, if you know what I mean."

Something in the back of Benedikte's consciousness flickered.

"Anyway," Edward added, addressing Sorin, "if you don't mind, I'd like to dance both of these lovelies past the table, just to get the conversation started. I'll get 'em right back to you though. Any objections?"

Geneva adjusted the decolletage of her gown to make it even more appealing. "If there's a role in it for me, let's go."

Edward laughed. "All business. I should've known."

As he led the twins away on a stream of pleasant farewells, Sorin stared after the women.

Their skin, he thought to Benedikte. Did you smell their skin?

He had; it was a vampire's curse and blessing to be aware of appet.i.te at all times.

Their taste, Sorin continued. I could live forever on the taste I imagine they carry. If we only had a home, where I could keep them, I would live off their blood for years.