SCROLLS OF THE DEAD-3 Complete Vampire Novels-A Trilogy (56 page)

If that ever happened, Mentor shuddered to think of the upheaval it would create. For years the vampire nations had lived in a civilized way, keeping their secrets, doing as little harm to mankind as possible. Upton would change all that. He would lead vampires against man, proving to them the invincibility of a supernatural blood feeder.

Mentor found himself entering another village, emerging from the jungle with a weary tread. He cast about, searching for Upton, but could not find him. He probably hadn't even been here, Mentor thought. He would have left a trace of his flight.

Just as Mentor moved to leave for the jungle again where he could take flight and return home to the States, a child appeared from behind the wall of a small house near the jungle wall. He called Mentor's name.

Mentor halted, turned, and waited until the child came near. He inspected the boy and saw nothing distinctive about him. He was barefoot and dressed in poorly fitting dirty clothes. His face was small, with a pointed chin and a firm set to his lips. He appeared to be about twelve.

"It's me, Joseph," the child said in a low, sad tone of voice.

"Oh, no. Joseph?"

"I'm sorry, Mentor. I didn't know my old monk's body was on its last legs. I paid more attention to my prayers than to monitoring my health. I'd been in that old body so long . . . more than a hundred years. I just didn't notice. And now look at me. I've made one mistake too many." He spread his hands and looked down at his feet.

"I'm sorry too, Joseph. Upton's disappeared. He hasn't been found, not yet." Mentor hesitated before saying, "The child's body you possess—he died?"

Joseph nodded. "When I had to leave the monastery, I was disembodied for a while, panicking to find a new form. I was so afraid I wouldn't have time, I'd be lost and wandering forever, looking on while others lived out their lives. Only now do I know what ghosts suffer." He frowned and began to press his hands together as if from memory of prayer. "This child lay dying in that house you see behind me. I crept into the room and waited over in a corner, away from his parents. It didn't take long. The boy had been ill with malaria for months and the fever . . . took him. So far none of his relatives suspect I'm not him. They don't know he died."

Mentor could imagine the scene, and it made him want to lie down in a shady spot, shut off his mind, and rest his head on his arm. He wanted to be far away from the newly made vampire boy who was trapped now in the tiny body, destined to keep it until in some distant future all the organs failed, once again setting Joseph free. To spend a normal mortal lifetime in the arrested physical body of a child was a torment.

He was reminded of the child he had helped in Greece.

Separated from life, wandering in death, always a boy. And Dell's brother, Eddie, who had fled to South America.

"Don't feel bad for me," Joseph said, sensing his distress. "I'll soon ask my new parents to let me study with the monks. The pay they receive when I get to the monastery will compensate them enough I won't be missed at home. They have many children and not enough to feed them. I'll find . . . something . . . to do for the monks. I am, after all, still Joseph."

Mentor put a hand on the child's shoulder before turning away. He heard Joseph say, "I'm really sorry about Upton. I know it's my fault. I've been the only one who ever made a mistake around him. And now I've made the worst one of all."

Mentor shook his head slightly to let Joseph know he did not blame him. After all, he had kept the man prisoner for nineteen years. Glancing once more to Joseph, he plunged into the jungle, leaving the village and his old friend behind.

He must go home. He was doing no good here. He'd be told when or if anyone found Upton. He'd turn up, Mentor was sure of it. Probably sooner rather than later.

He sent word back to the monastery to his indispensable friend, Dolan. His frequent visits to Thailand were finally at an end.

2

Charles Upton moved through the night streets of Sydney, Australia, like a snake cautiously testing the air for scent of humans. It had taken him days to make his way out of Thailand. He could move swiftly along the ground, but he could not sail the skies as he knew other Predators were able to do. He had to rely on boats and the rails to get him away from the country. Once in Australia he migrated to the edge of the country and the bright lights of the metropolitan city. There he expected to find Predators who would listen to him, who would join his cause. He'd found only three in crowded Bangkok and was told that except for the monks, few vampire clans lived in Thailand.

It took weeks to seek out Sydney's strongest vampires. At first he thought Australia might be another country the vampires regarded as hostile, but eventually he began to sense the lone Predator stalking the city streets, and it was the loners he wanted most of all.

He stalked the first loner he found, following at his back in the shadows. Finally, sensing him, the Predator turned, scowling. "What do you want? Who are you to watch me this way?"

Charles came from the shadows, showing himself. "I'm your friend," he said. "Perhaps we could talk?"

They went to a wharf and perched on a piling side by side. Below them water slapped around the piling bottoms. Charles could smell the mingled scents of salt water, mussels, the slime of green growth on the slick pilings.

"All right, Friend," the Predator said. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Are you happy?" Charles asked. "Are you living the life of a god the way you rightfully should?"

The Predator laughed. "Happy? Am I supposed to be happy? Are you happy?"

"I will be," Charles said. "As soon as we rule the world. I can do that with your help and with the help of others like you. We're the same, you and I. We need more respect. We need power. Everything that belongs to us has been taken away. We need to take it back."

The Predator stared at him, then a ghost of a smile came over his face.

It took so little to charm the lost ones. He appealed to their buried feelings of discontent. He painted rosy futures where they would be rulers rather than skulking beasts.

Each night he found more. He went to them individually, calling himself Charlie, never speaking of his imprisonment or his connection to Mentor and the distant continent of the United States. Some asked in reply, "How else would we live, if not hidden, shrouded by the night?"

Charlie had a lot of suggestions for them. He spent long hours in deep philosophical discussions, carefully pointing out to his comrades how they hadn't tapped even a tenth of the possibilities an immortal existence offered. Why should they curb their natural Predator instincts just to keep order in the world? Whose order was it? The secret they shielded so determinedly was for the benefit of whom? Who cared, he asked, about mortals or how human civilizations prospered? Why should such majestic creatures hide from man's notice and conduct the boring and tedious business of blood banks and secret repositories when all they had to do was to let themselves prey, the way it was ordained by their nature? What leader in the dark past had ever decreed they must work in conjunction with mortals so that history never knew of the existence of the vampire?

There were a few Predators who turned aside Charles' offer. These Charles dispatched without warning. He fell upon them, slitting their throats with a knife and then ripping their heads from their bodies. He wanted no one reporting back to a clan about his entreaty to join him.

He knew some of his Predators were going to leak their thoughts enough that Mentor would pick up the change taking place in Australia. Charles didn't even care if Mentor knew it was him. He never told his followers where they were going. If Mentor came to Sydney to investigate, Charles would simply flee, taking anyone he could with him. Once away from Sydney, he'd have his Predators shield their minds from Mentor's probes. This was something the first recruit taught him. They had been together only days when the other said, "You're wide open, a vampire transmitter."

"What do you mean?" Upton asked.

"Your mind. A vampire can feel it coming from miles away. Don't you ever shut down?"

It was explained to him what was meant. Charles discovered he could retreat with his thoughts deep into his mind and put up a block that kept others like himself from reading him. It made it wondrously easier to stalk enemies and it would help keep him safe from Mentor, too. It was the same trick old Joseph had used when he hadn't wanted to be bothered by Upton's intrusions in the monastery.

So much he hadn't known. So much. But he was free now, and the other Predators could teach him what he needed to know. Once he learned a trick, he was able to perfect it quickly.

Charles worked each night rushing through the Sydney streets, building his army. He'd give Mentor no time to find him or stop him. With diligence and cunning, Charlie, the Thai man with the large feet and the artistically gesturing hands—the foreigner with the dark, brooding eyes and regal presence—convinced many of his kind to join him in some far-off place where a whole new world order could be planned. His charisma was palpable. His words struck a chord in both the Predators who walked the fine edge of civility and those who in their hearts had always longed to be outlaws. Their ingrained timidity fled and the frustration they'd harbored for years found an outlet in Charlie, their new leader. They awaited his command, grouping in clusters around the great city, supernatural ears tuned for the instruction that would lead them on an exodus.

Once Charles made a mistake and approached a lone vampire on the streets who happened to be part of the hierarchy of the Predators in the city who supplied blood. When gently probed, the vampire seemed to be a loner, a renegade. Yet he had turned on Charles, speaking rapidly and with a hard tone. "I've heard someone was gathering the loners. What is it you're up to?"

Charles carefully concealed his plans for the future, and also his plan to murder this vampire who dared question him. "I'm harmless," he said instead, assuming a submissive manner. "I'm doing nothing wrong."

"Is it true you came from Thailand? Why did you leave there? What do you want with your own group of Predators?"

Charles hung his head like a scolded child, but all the time he was sidling closer to the other vampire. "I've been lonely, that's all," he lied.

The second he was within reach, he flew at the Predator and clasped his hands around his throat. He roared in his face, his mouth wide, his fangs exposed. Their battle lasted long minutes, for this was a powerful creature, one much older than Charles. At one point he thought he might be defeated, but their fierce engagement aroused the attention of other vampires in the area, luckily the same ones Charles had won over to his side. They joined with their leader and, together, they tore the enemy apart.

When it was over, Charles stood in the empty street, the torn body at his feet, and thought: Mentor won't be hearing from this one, at least.

After two weeks, the night came to take his motley crew of loners away from the city. Before morning dawned they would be elsewhere, having left the city for good. Until he had enough vampires to lead his crusade, they needed a secluded place where men wouldn't interfere with them. They must be a secret society until they could defeat Mentor and gather more Predators into their way of thinking.

Charlie paused in his walk and glanced up at the starry night. He felt as brilliant and invincible as the almond moon that rode across the sky. He wore a suit of black raw silk made by the finest European tailors and walked in the most supple and expensive leather shoes. He loved his new body and draped it in appropriate style. He hadn't yet gained control over the vast funds of his lost corporation, but money had been easy to come by. He simply took the cash and the credit cards from his victims, using them at the best boutiques in the shopping district. He feared no law enforcement in the world. As he told his followers: There is no law. We make the law. Gods do not obey man's decrees.

He'd almost finished his work in the city. He'd taken two victims tonight and was as flushed and pink as a cherub. He passed by Sydney's waterfront where great sailboats bobbed languorously in the slips. He spent time admiring the elegant lines of these spectacularly rich ships, their prominent brows, and their pristine hulls glistening from tiny lights strung along the pier. He walked down one long pier, his footsteps ringing softly as waves lapped beneath the pilings. It was almost time to take his apostles inland to an isolated, wild place where they could plot an uprising.

It would start in Australia and then move to the Americas. Once he had an army behind him, no one could stop him. Not Mentor or Ross, not any president, king, or premier. Military organizations with advanced weapons and warfare technology would be ineffectual against them. They would hide, they would strike in the night, and even the world's armies would not find them or be able to stop them.

You can't kill a dead man, he thought darkly, laughing to himself. You can't even threaten a dead man.

Charles turned around and retraced his steps. He'd researched the topography of Australia and decided where to take his Predators. They would go into the Blue Mountains just two hours inland from Sydney and the sea. In that inhospitable terrain of mountainous cliffs made of stone and ringed by thick forests, man would not detect them. Down in the valleys were small villages, surrounded by tall grasses, crocodiles, emus, and kangaroos. When his followers hungered, they would find ready prey. From the Blue Mountains, Charlie could make forays into the other cities and gather more Predators to his cause, bringing them together until there were enough to leave the country and invade other continents. Strength would lie in numbers. When he had a multitude at his command, they would advance on the States.

Lately he'd been getting telepathic messages from vampires in Europe, begging to join him. They were tired, they said, of living the genteel secret life. They wanted to rule, to destroy. They wanted to live free and unconstrained lives. No one, until now, had listened to their appeals. They felt like bugs pinned to corkboard, flapping their wings and crying for release. Charlie told them to come. Hurry. Delay not a moment.