Limbo's Child (73 page)

“Ick,” thought Lucy. It was painfully embarrassing to remember how taken she was with this creep just a few hours ago. That felt like a lifetime ago. Still, she couldn’t take her eyes off the disgusting spectacle. Watching it, she saw another disgusted face nearby rolling his eyes as well. It was Miles. It suddenly struck Lucy that he was the most unvampirish vampire of all. He had acne scars on both cheeks, a broad chin, small eyes, a thick, round face and short, red hair. He had no aura of glamour at all. He wasn’t awful to look at, in fact he wasn’t as ugly as Lucy had originally remembered him – Lucy realized she was probably in the thrall of Schuyler’s glamour at the time – but he was rather plain and ordinary looking. She looked around at the group of bloodsuckers one last time. None of them were plain. They were all pretty, almost painfully so, tall and thin. Miles was average looking, short and stocky. All of them had a whiff of smugness or melodramatic uneasiness about them. Miles just looked tired and frustrated and grumpy. Miles was a very different vampire. She wasn’t certain why, but she decided to file this observation away for future reference.

As they approached the dais, the beautiful people parted to reveal a mortifying sight. There at the top of the dais was a large, battered, old-fashioned lounge with gold fringe, and laying on it, wearing the clothes she had last seen her in, the blue jeans, simple flats, and red plaid flannel shirt layered over a long sleeve pink t-shirt, was the body of her mother. Lucy gasped, and almost ran to her, but the strong hand of Moríro restrained her. She fought with herself inside, trying not to cry or to be angry with Moríro. She could tell this was a hostile place and he was probably just trying to protect her, but then she really didn’t know that for sure.

Behind her mother was a tall, thin man wearing a battered leather jacket over simple hospital scrubs. He was bald, maybe mid-forties. He didn’t look like a vampire either. While everyone else was staring intently at Lucy and Moríro, he was sitting at a small, antique writing desk making notes on scraps of paper. He looked totally unconcerned about anything; he was merely pushing paper like an accountant. All the other vampires looked at him to see what he would do. “Was this the famous Hokharty-Ra, the Father of All Vampires?” thought Lucy. He was not what she was expecting at all. She was expecting someone grand in outlandish robes of gold or silk, seated on a throne like a king. He seemed more like a bookkeeper or a bureaucrat than a scary vampire. He finished whatever he was working on, looked up at Moríro with a glimmer of recognition on his face and then quietly stood up gathering his papers.

He walked to the front of the dais and then bowed most solemnly before Moríro.

“Necromancer,” he said simply.

“Chamberlain!” came a hoarse whisper in Lucy’s ear. It was Nephys.

Nephys looked up at the figure in front of him. He didn’t have the silver visor of Horus, or the finger coverings, and he was wearing strange clothes and not his black and silver robes, but there was no doubting it was the Chamberlain. He had the same presence, the same bearing, and though the features of his lower face were identical, it was the voice that gave it away. That was the Chamberlain’s voice. The implication was horrifying. What was the Chamberlain up to! Nephys winced and in doing so his natural eyes faded and the Death Sight took him. In the Halls of Death, the Chamberlain’s heart flame had burned faintly and clearly, but here, there was no heart flame at all. Here, there was only the swirling shadow occupying the seat of the heart. Nephys gasped. Here, the Chamberlain truly was a vampire.

Nephys pressed up close behind Lucy and looked like he might die of fright. Lucy just instinctively reached over and grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard to reassure him. Moríro eyed Hokharty suspiciously. Whatever was going on, the Necromancer was definitely not pleased.

The Father of All Vampires stood back up and eyed the assembled group before him carefully. He looked directly at Nephys and smiled, but his look turned to concern when he saw the demonic bagpipe.

“Flubbit – paraantfh-FAAARNT!!” the thing hooted derisively back at the vampire’s sneering look, as if to say, “Yeah…that’s right! I’m an imp!”

Hiero took up a defensive position directly between Lucy and the Father of All Vampires and stabbed the butcher knife threateningly into the wood floorboards in front of him. Lucy wasn’t certain why the vile little thing had suddenly taken a protective interest in her, but it did strangely make her feel more confident. Hokharty looked long and hard at Lucy, Nephys and the bagpipe as if he was considering something rather unpleasant. Then his faced went impassive again and he looked directly at Miles, Tim and Sky and said in a rather flat voice, “Thank you for returning the child to the Necromancer.” Whatever slight cue or body language he gave, the three of them immediately recognized that that was a subtle communication to take their places with the rest of his minions on the dais. With the exception of Sky, who practically bounded up onto the dais, they shifted rather uncomfortably in their shoes before moving to his side of the room. It was like everyone was choosing up sides before a fight.

Graber moved first, taking a position to Hokharty’s left. Schuyler was right behind him, bouncing up on the dais with pride, the five kitten girls in tow. As he stepped behind Hokharty to take a position on his right, his foot caught something on the floor. He reached down and picked up an old-fashioned, black military coat with silver embroidery. It was like something the male lead out of one of her mother’s corset dramas would wear. Schuyler smiled broadly, dusted it off and draped it across his shoulders triumphantly – the girls squealed in laughter and cooed even more after that. Whatever it was, it meant something to them. Tim and Miles were next. They went the slowest and exchanged nervous glances between themselves before ambling slowly towards the dais. Miles looked back at Lucy for a long time before he finally took a position next to Schuyler and Tim. Tim stared off into space. He looked numb and defeated. Miles just looked down, his shoulders slumped in resignation.

So the sides were chosen. Lucy, Nephys, Moríro and the imp, against the Father of All Vampires, the walking brick wall, Graber, Miles, Tim, Schuyler and his fan club, thirty to forty other snotty-looking vampires and a host of other undead things.

Hokharty stood there looking utterly placid as if nothing unusual was going on. Moríro was fuming, however, and spoke first.

“What is the meaning of this, Hokharty?”

“Necromancer,” Hokharty bowed respectfully from the waist before beginning, “Allow me to explain. I am only following the orders you gave me.”

“Following orders?!” Moríro was indignant.

“Yes, Necromancer,” said the vampire without a trace of irony, “To the best of my ability.”

“TO THE BEST OF YOUR ABILITY?!” Moríro bellowed so loudly it made the plaster shake.

Moríro breathed hard through his nostrils and all the eyes or empty sockets passed between him and the Father of All Vampires as they waited for one of them to speak. The Necromancer was clenching Lucy’s shoulder so hard it hurt.

“Yes, Necromancer. I have followed
your
orders,” The Father of All Vampires said didactically as if speaking to a child, “Exactly.”

“How…” Moríro began carefully, “How can you believe you have followed my orders?” It wasn’t stated as a question.

The vampire tilted his head curiously as if the matter was obvious, but he stepped down from the dais and began circling Lucy, Moríro, Nephys and the imp like a schoolmaster explaining a simple lesson.

“I have done nothing but what you have asked me to do, Necromancer,” he said simply, rolling the fingers of one hand close to his face.

“I
asked
you to return the child to me,” Moríro replied testily.

“And I did so.”

“I expected you to retrieve her,
personally
, Hokharty.”

The vampire shrugged, “My apologies, Necromancer, but you did not specify so. Therefore I felt free to assign others to the task.”

“But these?!” Moríro pointed to the boys – Tim, Miles and Sky. Miles and Tim looked a little hurt and ashamed, but Sky was oddly cool, twirling the lollipop and thinking.

“They were…” the vampire brought his hand close to his face and rolled the fingers thoughtfully as he chose his next word, “
Inexperienced
, that may be true, but they had unique talents I thought were necessary for the girl’s protection. You no doubt realized
others
would be in pursuit. I wanted to take precautions.”

The Necromancer looked a bit surprised. He surveyed the three boys again and examined Miles especially hard. Lucy remembered what he had said to Miles back at the farmhouse. He was shocked that Miles had survived such a close encounter with Amanda, or Amarantha or whatever she was. Did Hokharty know Amanda was coming for them? If so, how? Lucy guessed Moríro was probably pondering the same question at this very moment.

“Why bring her here then?” Moríro asked seeming genuinely confused. “Why not bring her to me?”

“Again, Necromancer, I was being cautious. I needed a secure place to protect her.”

“But here?!” Moríro spat indignantly, “Amongst Wallach’s den of thieves?”

“Wallach is dead,” Hokharty said plainly, “He was…
uncooperative
.” The vampires all tittered at this. Moríro looked annoyed. He didn’t seem to care a fig about Wallach, but the killing was clearly not authorized in advance.

“I specifically instructed you to harm no one.”

“Actually, Necromancer, you instructed me not to harm any
living
soul, and I have not; as Wallach died more than two hundred years ago, I violated no vow to you.”

There was more tittering from the bloodsuckers. The vampires really were awful, like a clique of snotty, popular kids in high school except better looking and with superpowers. Vampires in high school – what a horror
that
would be! Home schooling didn’t seem so awful anymore. Lucy could tell Moríro hated being corrected like this, especially in front of so many dead things. It was like he was on the witness stand at a trial being hammered by a very talented prosecutor and he was being goaded into losing his temper.

“Your minions nearly let her be killed.”

“Regrettable, but that was not their intention,” Hokharty said, seemingly sincerely, “And I am grateful she is undamaged.”

Lucy snorted at this. She wouldn’t exactly call the last twenty-four hours undamaging.      Hokharty went on, “I would have, of course, delivered her immediately to you, had she
arrived
.” The vampire shot a look back at the boys. “But more important matters required my attention elsewhere.”

“More important matters?!”

“Gathering the minions, as per your instructions…”

“As per my instructions! I
instructed
you to find the girl! Why on earth would you need so many minions to do that?!”

“Necromancer, with all due respect, you
instructed
me to help you restore the balance, and I am in the process of doing so.”

“Restoring the balance?!!” Moríro was furious. “You have overstepped your bounds, Hokharty. Calling so many together in one place. It will cause the mortals to become aware of their presence. You have needlessly risked the safety of the girl and all of them!”

Several of the non-vampire dead shifted nervously and whispered amongst themselves, but the vampires just smiled rather smugly. What did they know that the others did not?

Moríro wasn’t finished yet though, “Finding the girl was the key to restoring the balance, and now that she has been found…” he turned to address the crowd, “This conversation is over,” he said emphatically. “You will all return to your lairs and haunts,
carefully
and in small groups so as not to draw attention to yourselves, and
you
!” Moríro turned to gaze at Hokharty. “You will clean up this mess here and return to report to me by morning. I have serious matters to discuss with you regarding the
Chamberlain
.” Moríro put particular emphasis on this word. Lucy remembered that Nephys had said the same thing when he saw Hokharty. Who was this Chamberlain and what did he have to do with this? Moríro gripped Lucy tightly and turned as if about to leave, but no one else moved. Not the wax-faced mummies or the skeletons or anyone. Lucy could tell Moríro wasn’t used to being disobeyed. Lucy had been anxious and scared before, but now, she was positively terrified. Nephys gripped her arm tighter and even the imp withdrew a step or two.

“Necromancer,” Hokharty called him back. Moríro turned slowly, eyes fixed on the old vampire. “The girl
is
the key to restoring balance, but not in the way you believe. The situation is far more dire than even you realize. Please allow me to explain.”

Hokharty brought the tips of his fingers together close to his face and looked away for a moment. He looked as if he were trying to think of a way to explain something to a small child.

“Forgive the impertinence, Necromancer, but how long have you been
THE
Necromancer.”

Moríro bristled at this sudden inquiry. He clearly wasn’t used to taking questions from inferiors.

“I have been the Necromancer for nearly three hundred and forty years,” he stated this proudly and defiantly, but there was a trace of tiredness in his voice, tinged with fatigue and deep sorrow. Lucy looked up at Moríro. It was amazing to think he was that old, older than the telephone and the light bulb. Heck! Older than the Declaration of Independence! Her friends’ grandparents back in Texas could hardly manage e-mail. How had Moríro managed cars and modern life? What did being that old
do
to a person? How did it change you to watch the seasons pass like days, to watch everything you knew, everything you loved, die and pass away. She looked back up at the others on the dais. How old were all of them? Miles had a similar look. How old was he? Then she wondered how old grandma Holveda really was. Then she thought about herself. How long could she live?! Would she still be driving around in a battered car like Moríro’s when everyone else had jumped to teleporters?! Her head was swimming.