Blood Will Tell (39 page)

Brandy left Dan to search, glad he was able to act. She picked up the manuscript they had come for. Even its alphabet was unfamiliar. It would do them no good without someone to translate it.

Carefully, she unrolled it, staring at the symbols in the flickering candlelight. She spotted something familiar: a passage on programming vampires. The section they had the translation of!

“Dan, look here,” she said. “Can you read this?"

“No, of course I—” He stared. “This is what Rett had. We shouldn't be able to tell that!"

“Callahan can read it,” said Brandy. “He got the ability to read this language when he harvested Dr. Land."

“Can you read any more of it?” Dan asked.

Here and there Brandy could make out a word: Numen, vampire, blood. “It won't do much good to translate three or four words per page,” she said.

“I wonder—” Dan said, and turned back to the bookshelves. Then, “Yes!” as he pulled out a book, musty with age, and carefully opened it to the title page.

“My God,” said Brandy, “this is an illuminated manuscript."

“You don't think such information has ever been allowed to see print, do you? But this is in an archaic form of German, Brandy. I can read German."

“You learned it while you were in Germany with Elvis,” she remembered.

“Actually, I got fluent later. Never mind. We can read this."

“Not before Callahan gets back,” Brandy pointed out, dismayed by the thickness of the tome.

“We can find out something."

Maybe enough to save their lives. She helped him prop the heavy volume on a tall stand, and bring enough candles about to read by.

Dan began leafing through, reading chapter headings. “The Alchemical Art of the Numen"; “How the Alchemist Purifies Himself"; “The Technique of Creating Vampires"; “Varieties of Vampires"—the chapter they had translated; “Controlling and Destroying Vampires"; “The Harvest"; “Dangers to the Soul of the One Who Would Become a Numen"; “That Which Weakens the Numen"—

“There!” said Brandy. “Find out what weakens a Numen!"

“The Numen is physiologically similar to the vampire,” Dan read slowly, stumbling over archaic wordings, “but has no Craving. He consumes blood for pleasure or as a link to his vampires, but spiritual attributes are the Numen's sustenance. Harvesting strengthens him, but he must avoid polluting his soul through the Harvest of temporary vampires.

“A Numen weakens himself if he chooses weak-willed individuals as the long-lived vampires whom he will Harvest. No matter how intelligent the chosen one may be, if his will is weak he will endanger the Numen in two ways: first, a weak-willed individual constantly seeks protection; in him the commands to protect the secret of his state will turn to cowardice. He may become a hermit, and not gain the experience the Numen seeks from his Harvesting.

“Second, when the Numen Harvests a vampire he acquires not only the knowledge, experience, and life force of that individual, but also something of his character. It is especially important that the novice Numen, Harvesting his first vampires, not absorb cowardice and weakness of will."

“That's no help,” said Brandy. “He's just Harvested Doc Sanford, probably the most stubborn old cuss in Callahan County. Skip over. What does it say about how to destroy a Numen—or at least how to control one?"

“Maybe a Numen can't be destroyed."

“If he's physiologically a vampire he can,” said Brandy. “I wish I had my gun!"

“Here's something,” said Dan. He was growing accustomed to the dialect now. “Grave danger to the Numen is to lose control of a long-lived vampire. Should a vampire of intelligence and strength of will become aware of the Numen, and realize that his life is not his own, he will certainly seek to become a Numen himself."

“—what?” whispered Brandy.

“Fight fire with fire,” said Dan, searching rapidly over the next couple of pages. “There has to be another way! I want my freedom—but not by enslaving others!” He fell silent, reading to himself.

“What does it say?” Brandy demanded.

“The single greatest danger to the Numen is one of his own vampires—Harvesting—the Numen."

“That's what you'll have to do, Dan."

“Brandy! How can you say such a thing?"

“Judge Callahan is about to kill us, then disappear, to re-emerge somewhere in the Third World where he can become a dictator with powers of life and death!"

“We don't know—"

“We do know he intends to kill you. Will you let him?"

“Not if I can help it. But I won't become like him!"

“Does it say in there that you have to use vampires to gain political power?"

“No—but it does say the Numen has to Harvest vampires."

“Well,” said Brandy, “what choice do we have? Callahan plans to kill you and take me with him. I don't want to be one of his vampires, Dan. What are our choices?"

When Dan didn't answer, Brandy said, “We could set fire to this place.” She picked up a stool and smashed it against the metal door, choosing a jaggedly pointed length of wood. “I know where your heart is. Shall I make certain you can't recover from smoke inhalation?"

“Brandy!” he gasped. “How can you even suggest—?"

“I won't be L. J. Callahan's puppet!” she insisted. “If you don't Harvest him, he'll Harvest you. Without you, I can't prevent him from turning me into a vampire—unless I'm dead before he gets here."

“No,” Dan protested.

“Give me other options."

Dan was silent.

“Do you want a suicide pact?” Brandy asked.

“That won't keep Callahan from moving elsewhere and creating more vampires."

“Then what do we do?” Brandy asked, still holding up her wooden stake.

“Fight him,” Dan said grimly. “We fight him on his own terms—and God have mercy on our souls."

* * * *

They continued reading the German manuscript, searching for clues to both stopping Callahan without Dan's having to become a monster like him—and accomplishing that very thing. “Turn his weakness against him,” Dan read, despair in his voice. “I don't know Callahan's weakness."

“Of course you do,” she replied. “It's the same weakness all tyrants have: power madness."

“How do we turn it against him?"

Brandy sighed. “It's called a sting. We've got the bait: you and me. What we don't have is the trap."

The electronic lock emitted a series of beeps. Brandy shoved the book back onto the shelf, then turned to stand beside Dan as the door opened. Callahan was back.

“You're looking pale, Dan,” he said. “It's almost midnight. You have not succeeded in feeding."

“Does that make you feel powerful,” Brandy sneered, “making someone suffer? Are you in the drug trade because you enjoy making addicts crawl to you, watching them destroy their lives and families?"

Callahan replied calmly, as if they were holding a normal conversation. “As a matter of fact, I avoid such weak people. I run drugs because that is where the money is. Two centuries ago I ran slaves, and when I saw that trade coming to an end I moved into tobacco. Nicotine is more addictive than cocaine. I see at least another fifty years of worldwide tobacco trade, perhaps even a century, but it is time for me to leave the United States now. It's becoming too difficult to change identities here. Of course,” he added as he approached Dan, “once I Harvest you, I will have all your computer knowledge to help me."

“No,” said Brandy, stepping between them.

“It is necessary,” said Callahan. “I could leave Dan trapped here, to suffer the agonies of deprivation until someone releases him and dies for his efforts, but I'm afraid I need his knowledge and skill for my new life."

“No,” Brandy insisted. “I won't let you."

“We won't let you,” said Dan, standing beside her.

“You would defy me?” asked Callahan.

“You seem surprised,” said Dan.

“You have more strength of will than I expected—but that will only make your Harvesting more valuable."

Callahan put a hand on Dan's throat.

Brandy chopped down on Callahan's wrist with the shard of wood she still held. The force of the blow would have broken a normal man's wrist, but Callahan's hand was only knocked away from her lover, who had the presence of mind to aim a punch at the Numen's jaw.

The blow glanced off, of course, as Brandy felt the pain in Dan's hand. And he couldn't heal until he had fed.

In fury, she turned the point of the wooden stake toward Callahan—then, knowing that fighting in anger gave the advantage to her opponent, she deliberately zoned, took careful aim, and with all her weight behind her weapon, launched herself toward the monster's heart.

He was wearing a vest!

The garment designed to stop bullets easily deflected a piece of wood. Callahan smiled and wrestled it out of her hand. “Did you think I would not expect that?"

“Would it have killed you?” Brandy demanded.

“No,” replied the Numen—but Brandy knew he was lying. A heart was a heart, human, vampire, or Numen. “It could put an instant end to your friend here.” Callahan held the stake against Dan's chest. He did not flinch. “Ah—brave, are we?"

“I'd rather die cleanly than contribute life to you!"

“Very good!” Callahan said. “An interesting Harvest—I haven't had a real challenge in centuries.” He gestured toward the body on the altar. “I should have turned old Sanford into a vampire years ago. He'd have made a worthy opponent with time to mature—as you have matured, Dan. Only half a century of experience, and you defy me. Everett Land lived for more than three hundred years, and if he had not discovered that manuscript he might never have guessed."

“So vampires can—mature,” mused Brandy, watching for any sign that Callahan was distracted. “They discover what the Numen has done to them and resist his influence."

“Those intuitive leaps make you an excellent detective, and will make you very useful to me as a vampire, Brandy."

“I won't let you turn me."

“You have no choice,” Callahan told her. “The long hours of winter darkness are a good time to create vampires. Even here beneath the ground, sunrise affects the process. But you and I will be ready to leave before dawn."

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” said Brandy.

“Where I am going, a successful man must have a beautiful, obedient wife.” Callahan smiled. “You thought your silly threats about harassment turned my attentions from you, but it was just simpler to let Dan control you. You will be my wife for twenty or thirty years, and then I will turn you loose to ripen."

“I'm the wrong choice,” said Brandy. “You can't change my personality—you have to work with it. I'll never be anybody's obedient wife."

“Oh, very good!” said Callahan. “It would almost be worth Harvesting you immediately, to gain that intuitive gift! However,” he added, “you are wasting the hours of darkness.” He jabbed toward Dan with the stake, and this time Brandy's fiancé flinched. Callahan smiled, and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. “I really can't have you interfering when I must concentrate,” he said, and cuffed Dan to a pipe running over their heads.

Normally, Dan could have broken the cuffs. But Callahan knew his weaknesses. “There,” the judge said. “Now you may feed—if you can!"

The Craving that suddenly overpowered Dan made Brandy reel. His fangs extended and his eyes burned scarlet in the candlelight. She lunged toward him, wanting, needing, to assuage that hunger.

“Oh, no,” said Callahan, stopping her with an arm about her throat. He sidestepped the heel she automatically attempted to bring down on his instep. “You are mine, Brandy, not his."

“Let me go!"

“When you are ready to obey me."

His forearm against her throat cut off her air as he dragged her to the altar where Doc Sanford's body lay. Brandy kicked, and dug her nails into the back of Callahan's hand, but could not make him let go. The edges of her vision went dim, and she lost consciousness.

Brandy came to gulping air. She was lying on the altar, Callahan standing over her, shoving the hand she had scratched into her mouth as she gasped for breath. She tried to spit out the metallic taste of his blood.

Callahan smiled. “You are sealed to me in blood, Brandy. You cannot resist my will."

“That's what you think!” she spat, trying to sit up. She couldn't move!

To reinforce her helplessness, Callahan straightened, not touching her. “Go on,” he said. “If you have the strength, go to your lover. Feed him. I won't stop you with any physical restraint."

Hypnosis, Brandy told herself. There was no real hold on her. She could get up, go to Dan, give him the strength he needed—but her limbs would not obey her will.

Dan moaned, his Craving a devouring force, triggering a similar need in Brandy.

What?

“Yes,” said Callahan. “Feel the Craving, sweet Brandy. You want blood. You need the power of the vampire. Leave your weakness behind. Feed."

“No,” she managed to gasp out. It wasn't her own Craving; it was Dan's, channeled through their bond. “Dan!” she cried, “I Crave to give you my blood, to renew your strength! Don't let Callahan use it against us."

She felt Dan somehow suppress his own need and send supporting strength to her. “I love you, Brandy,” he whispered hoarsely. “Please, come to me. Together we can stand against anything."

“I'm coming!” she said, commanding her body to obey—but nothing happened. “Dan—help me! Break Callahan's influence with yours. Please!” she begged.

Callahan stood back, smiling that damned politician's smile, demonstrating his strength by doing nothing.

“Brandy,” Dan called to her on a wave of overwhelming desire. “Come to me. Nothing can break our perfect match. No power is stronger than the power of love."

Callahan burst into laughter. “You poor, romantic fool! There's no such thing as a perfect match. I made that up and put it into your head when you resisted bringing Brandy into your power—and mine."

“No match?” Worse than the hoarse disillusionment in Dan's voice was his wave of palpable agony. Callahan laughed again.

“No match,” said the Judge. “Oh, you were in love all right. You could not bring yourself to use her, even when I made you attack Brandy's best friend."