In the Blood (8 page)

"I wouldn't recommend trying such heroics, Mr. Palmer," Renfield said, smiling
and crossing and recrossing his legs like a bored personnel manager at a job
interview. "The shutters are, indeed, nailed in place. Oh, don't look so surprised! Of
course I can read your mind, such as it is. It's an open book- although short story
would better describe it. You may let go of him, Keif." The vise clamping Palmer's
shoulder disappeared. "I can handle our friend from here on. Go and watch the
door."

Keif grunted, pausing on the threshold to give Palmer a final, hungry look.

"Go on! Go on! Do as I say!" snapped Renfield, waving at the goon as if shooing a
bothersome child out of the kitchen. "You'll get your share, as always!"

Palmer swung toward Renfield, fists balled. "Look here, you mealy-mouthed
bastard! What the hell do you think you're doing? If I don't get some answers I'm
gonna-"

"You're going to die, Mr. Palmer."

Fire coursed through Palmer's veins, turning his blood to slag. His intestines boiled
in their own juices as his bones powdered into ash. His eyeballs exploded and
dribbled down his cheeks like egg yolks. He tried to scream, but his lungs were full
of burning water.

The fire disappeared as quickly as it descended. Palmer lay on the bare floor, knees
drawn up under his chin. He could taste blood in his mouth. Had he bitten his
tongue?

"Wha-What did you do to-?"

"You died, Mr. Palmer. And you will continue to die until I decide otherwise.

Honestly, I can't understand what it is the Doctor sees in you. True, you have some
talent," he sniffed, "but all this other mental and emotional baggage-empathy,
sympathy, the ability to love-it's simply not worth the effort of deprogramming!"

Coldness shot through Palmer, spearing his nervous system with a million icicles.

His lungs filled with ice crystals and his urine turned to slush in his bladder. He
whimpered as his toes and fingers turned black and fell off.

"I have no intention of letting you survive this little ordeal." Renfield was back, only
this time his head was wreathed in a strange glow the color of a fresh bruise. Funny
how Palmer hadn't noticed that before. "I've worked too long to allow some upstart
to turn the Doctor against me!" Renfield's wan features were flushed now. He was
drunk on emotions long held in check, his eyes bright and feral as a starved coyote's.

Renfield abandoned his chair, dropping to his knees beside Palmer. "You think I
don't notice how he favors you? How he looks at you? He promised me power and
life eternal! He said he loved me!
Needed
me!
Me,
not you!" There were tears in the
other man's eyes. "He lied to me! But he won't have you. I won't let you take my
place! I'll tell him you couldn't handle the deprogramming-it won't be a lie, really-and I gave you to the ogre for disposal. No one will know! Not even the Doctor!"

The louvered shutters shattered inward as Sonja Blue made her entrance, leather-clad arms lifted to shield her face. She hit the bare floor and rolled, distracting
Renfield away from his victim.

Palmer felt the numbness in his limbs vanish as Renfield faced the intruder. The
reverse-negative halo surrounding his head pulsed, snapping a whiplike tendril in

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Sonja Blue's direction.

Sonja made a motion with her left hand, as if flicking away a worrisome insect.

"You'll have to do better than that!" She laughed.

Renfield looked confused, then frightened. "Keif! Get in here! Keif!"

Palmer got to his feet, surprised to find the recent agonies he'd undergone had left
his flesh unscathed. He could hear the gorilla fumbling with the lock. Sonja grabbed
Renfield by his lapels, pulling him so close they were literally nose-to nose. A spiky
crown of reddish-black light seemed to radiate from the woman's head, flickering in
and out of Palmer's vision like a defective neon sign.

"Where's Pangloss?"

"Do you honestly think I'd tell
you ?"
Renfield sneered.

"You've got a point." She let go of his jacket. Renfield smiled hesitantly,
straightening his lapels. She moved so fast Palmer almost didn't see it, grabbing
Renfield's chin and forcing his head up and back at an unnatural angle. The door
banged inward, sagging on its hinges. Keif had grown frustrated with opening the
door.

The gorilla squeezed through the doorway, his piggy little eyes moving from Palmer
to Sonja before settling on Renfield's corpse. Sonja stepped forward, motioning for
Palmer to get behind her. He saw that she held an open switchblade in one hand.

"Jesus Christ, woman, there's no way you can go up against that goon-"

She waved him silent, never taking her eyes off the hulking figure filling the
doorway. "Keep quiet! I know what I'm doing!"

Keif rumbled deep in his throat and stepped forward, sniffing the air like a hunting
dog. Keif glanced at them suspiciously, his nostrils flaring, but did not offer to
attack. His attention was fixed on Renfield's carcass. Saliva dripped from his lower
lip in thick ropes. Keif emitted a loud sniffing sound, like that of a hog at a trough,
and pounced on the corpse. Palmer heard fabric rip as the giant tore at the dead
man's clothes.

Sonja motioned Palmer toward the door. She moved to follow, never taking her eyes
off the drooling goon.

"What's he doing'?" Palmer hissed.

"You don't want to know. Let's get out of here while he's preoccupied. Ogres aren't
very bright to begin with, and when they're hungry they tend to let their bellies
override their brains. We're lucky this one hadn't had dinner yet."

5

Palmer sat on the penthouse patio, a glass of bourbon in his hand, while everything
he'd assumed was real disintegrated.

Palmer prided himself on his ability to adapt to adverse conditions. He'd learned
how to cope when his family kicked him out of the house at the age of seventeen.

He'd survived three hellish months on an Alabama work gang, back when having
long hair was a criminal offense. He'd watched friends unwilling to admit they were
no longer as young and invulnerable as they used to be succumb to overdoses and
disease. There was no percentage in denying change. Evolve or die. He should have
had it tattooed on his forehead.

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He took another swallow of his drink, glancing over the rim at his savior. She sat on
the edge of the parapet, scanning the surrounding rooftops. Palmer was uncertain as
to whether he trusted the mirror-eyed woman, but did not see he had any choice.

"Is Pangloss really your grandfather?"

She shrugged but did not turn to face him. "Some would say so. But if you mean is
he my biological grandfather, no, he is not."

"I didn't think so. He's nowhere near old enough to have a grandchild your age."

"Pangloss is at least fifteen hundred years old, Mr. Palmer."

"So I'm lousy at guessing ages."

"You seem rather... calm, considering what's just happened."

"After talking to the dead, discovering I possess psychic powers and being brain-raped by a crazed telepath, being told my employer is a vampire is rather
anticlimactic."

Sonja glanced at him. "You spoke with the dead?"

"Actually, it was more the other way around. It was your old boyfriend."

"Chaz?"

He nodded, watching her face for a reaction. If the news affected her in any way, it
did not show.

"And what did he have to say?"

"That I should avoid you like the plague and get the hell out of Dodge."

"Death has given him some smarts."

"He said you killed him."

"The dead don't lie. But they don't speak the truth, either. Yes, I killed him. Does it
matter?"

"It did to him."

"Chaz was my... partner. He was like you-a sensitive. He was a smalltime hustler
when I met him. We clicked. It was good-for a while. Then there was trouble. Chaz
ended up selling me out. He betrayed me with a kiss. He always did have a flair for
irony. I spent six months in a madhouse because of him. I do not expect loyalty from
humans, but I do not countenance treachery. His death was not just, but it was fair.

I have been a murderer for a very long time, Mr. Palmer. Killing is a habit of mine.

It is only proper that I tell you this."

"There was a boy..." He felt his throat tighten at the taste of Jimmy Eichorn's
blood, but continued anyway. "A boy with blue hair you did something to."

"The Blue Monkeys? Yes, I remember. I take it the boy is still alive?"

"If you want to call it that."

She shrugged. "He possessed information. And I was in need of... well, let us say I
was in need and leave it at that."

"He was only fifteen-"

-and already guilty of gang rape, hit-and-run driving and second-degree murder. Do
not waste your sympathy on him, Mr. Palmer. Like I said, what I do is not just, but
it is fair."

much attention to themselves. That's what Renfield had planned for you, if you
haven't figured it out by now."

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Sonja Blue showed Palmer to a small attic room. A narrow bed was placed where
the slope of the roof met the wall.

"It's not much. Then again, I normally don't entertain guests. You'll be safe here.

It's another four hours until dawn. I'll be outside guarding the door. Once the sun
comes up you shouldn't have to worry about Pangloss's pet ogre."

"Ogre?"

"What do you think the lunk chowing down on dear departed Renfield was? The
tooth fairy? They're big and dumb and have some seriously nasty habits, as you
might have guessed, but they're pretty much helpless without a handler. Left to
themselves, they'll spend their time eating children and wandering around raping
and looting villages. They could get away with shit like that back during the Dark
Ages, but it tends to attract notice nowadays. So most of them end up signing on as
muscle with various vampire or
vargr
big shots. That way their employers can
dispose of the empties without calling too

"But why did he do what he did?"

A flicker of sympathy softened her features. "There's no shame in admitting what
happened to you. Renfield may not have raped you physically, but the result was the
same."

"Yeah, well-" Palmer looked away. He did not know what to say. He doubted he
ever would.

"As to why Renfield hurt you-he was trying to twist you."

"Come again?"

"In order for you to be of any use to Pangloss, or any vampire, for that matter, he
has to make sure you're twisted to suit his needs. That involves a complete and utter
destruction of superego and restructuring of the ego. The sensitive's needs and
desires must revolve around his master. He must be willing to live-and die-for his
master. Sometimes this emotional dependence is reinforced with drugs or sex.

Inclinations to evil are fostered while any vestige of human emotion, except those
required by the master, are systematically destroyed. While this may take some
time, the initial programming is usually done within a matter of minutes, assuming
the attacker is a skilled psionic. If the programming is pushed too hard, too fast,
death occurs.

"Obviously, Renfield had orders to twist you, to add you to Pangloss's stable, so to
speak. But he was jealous and rebelled. You're lucky he wanted to kill you, or you'd
be Pangloss's slave right now."

"Yeah. Lucky."

Sonja Blue squatted on her haunches, listening to Palmer's breathing with half an
ear. She doubted the ogre had the brains to come looking for them, but she'd
learned the hard way never to underestimate the good doctor. She plucked
Pangloss's letter from inside her jacket, flattening the paper against the attic
floorboards.

There is much I must tell you, my dear, and it concerns one whom I know you are

interested in.

Morgan.

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Her hands balled themselves into tight fists. She exhaled a nervous, shaky breath.

She had spent the better part of twenty years-her entire unlife-searching for the
vampire that had raped a teenaged girl, tainted her blood, and turned her into
something that called itself Sonja Blue. Now Pangloss, the vampire responsible for
Morgan's own creation, was tempting her with information concerning his
whereabouts. It wasn't the first time he'd tried it. The last time had been under the
streets of Rome, in a catacomb held sacred to the shadow races that manipulated
mankind. She had been too proud to agree to Pangloss's "business proposition." She
was lucky to have escaped.