The Immortal Rules (11 page)

“That is correct.”

“So, why didn’t I turn into a rabid?”

He shook his head. “Think about it,” he said quietly. “Think about what I told you. You’re bright enough to figure it out.”

I thought about it. “I didn’t turn into a rabid,” I said slowly, “because…you’re a Master vampire.” He gave me a humorless smile, and I looked at him with new eyes. Kanin was a Master vampire; he could be a Prince. “But, if you’re a Master, why don’t you have a city of your own? I thought—”

“Enough talking.” He pushed himself off the desk. “We have somewhere to be tonight, and it is a long way through the undercity. I suggest we get moving.”

I blinked at his sudden change of mood. “Where are we going this time?”

Kanin spun so gracefully I didn’t even know he’d moved until he had me pinned against the wall, the long, curved blade of his dagger pressed against my throat. I froze, but a split second later the pressure on my neck was gone and the knife disappeared into the folds of his black coat. Kanin gave me a faint, tight smile, and stepped away.

“If I was an enemy, you’d be dead now,” he said, walking down the hall again like nothing had happened. I clutched my chest, knowing that if I’d still had a heartbeat, it would have been pounding through my ribs. “The city can be a dangerous place. You’re going to need something bigger than that two-inch blade you keep in your pocket to defend yourself.”

* * *

A
S
A
STREET
RAT
, I’d had the underground tunnels below the city as my turf, my secret passageways, the hidden road that let me slip through the districts unseen. I’d been proud of my knowledge of the city’s underworld. But my vampire mentor either had a near-perfect memory, or he’d been through the dark, twisty underground many, many times before. I followed him through passageways I’d never seen, never known existed. Kanin never slowed down or appeared to be lost, so keeping up with him was a challenge sometimes.

“Allison.” There was a hint of exasperation in his voice as he turned, pausing to wait for me. “The night is waning, and we still have a good ways to cover before we reach our destination. Would you kindly get a move on? This is the third time I’ve had to wait for you.”

“You know, you could slow down a little.” I leaped down from a dead subway car and jogged back to him, ducking a pipe that dangled above the tracks. “In case you haven’t noticed, short people have short legs. I have to take three steps to one of yours, so stop griping.”

He shook his head and continued down the cement tunnel, walking a bit slower now, so it was a small victory. I hurried to keep pace. “I had no idea there was another railway system down here,” I said, gazing at the hulk of a rusty car, overturned on the tracks. “I knew the one that ran below the third and fourth districts, but it was blocked when a building collapsed above it. Where does this one go?”

“This one,” Kanin said, his voice echoing down the dark tunnel, “runs straight through the heart of the Inner City, right between the towers themselves. The station that leads down to it has long been closed off, and the tunnels have been sealed, but we’re not going all the way to the towers.”

“We’re below the Inner City?” I glanced up at the ceiling as if I could see the looming vampire buildings through the concrete and cement. I wondered what it was like up there; glass towers and sparkling lights, well-dressed humans, and even vehicles that still worked. A far cry from the dirty, hopeless, starving existence of the Fringe.

“Don’t be too enamored,” Kanin warned, as if reading my thoughts. “The humans of the Inner City might be better dressed and better fed, but only because they are useful. And what do you think will happen to them, once their master grows bored or displeased?”

“I’m guessing they don’t have a retirement plan.”

Kanin snorted.

“And you want me to eventually live up there?”

He glanced down at me, his expression softening. “Allison, how you live your life is up to you. I can only give you the skills you need to survive. But eventually, you will have to make your own decisions, come to your own terms about what you are. You are Vampire, but what kind of monster you become is out of my hands.”

“What if I don’t want to live up there?” I gave him a sideways look, then focused on the tracks at my feet, watching them glimmer as we passed. “What if I wanted to…go with you?”

“No.” Kanin’s voice was sharp, booming down the tunnel, making me wince. “No,” he said again, softer this time. “I would not suffer anyone to endure the path I walk. My road must always be traveled alone.”

And that was the end of it.

The subway went on, but Kanin took me down another, narrower tunnel, through a dozen more twists and turns, until I was completely lost. We passed under storm drains and metal grates, where I could look up and finally see the city above, gleaming and bright. But the streets seemed empty, abandoned. I’d been expecting crowds of people out walking the streets, unafraid of the night and the predators surrounding them. Maybe I would even catch a glimpse of a vampire, surrounded by his pets and thralls, strolling down the sidewalk. A vehicle passed overhead, making a manhole cover clink, filling the quiet with the growl of its engine. I gaped at the sight of a real, working car, but other than that, the city was as silent as the Fringe.

And, as we continued under the quiet streets, the lights revealed other things, too.

You didn’t notice it at first, being dazzled by the lights and the tall buildings, but the Inner City was just as broken and damaged as the worst parts of the Fringe. There were no rows of gleaming mansions, no buildings overflowing with food and clothes and everything you’d need, no cars for every family. There
were
a lot of broken, half-decayed buildings that looked slightly more taken care of than the rest of the city. There were flickering streetlamps and rusty cars and weeds growing through walls and concrete. Except for the trio of gleaming vampire towers in the distance, the Inner City looked like a brighter, well-lit version of the Fringe.

“Not what you expected, is it?” Kanin mused, as we ducked into another cement tube and the lights faded above us. I followed, not knowing if I was vindicated or disappointed.

“Where are all the people?” I wondered. “And the vampires?”

“The humans who are awake are all working,” Kanin said. “Keeping the electrical grid up and running, managing the remains of the sewer systems, repairing broken machinery. That’s why the vampires look for those who are talented or knowledgeable or skilled and take them into the city—they need them to keep it running. They also have humans to man their factories, clean and repair their buildings, and grow the food needed for the rest of the population. The rest of them, guards, thralls, pets and concubines, serve them in other ways.”

“But…
everyone
can’t be working.”

“True,” Kanin agreed. “Everyone else is behind closed, locked doors, keeping off the streets and out of sight as much as they can. They are much closer to the monsters than the people of the Fringe, and they have just as much reason to be afraid.”

“Wow,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Wouldn’t everyone back home be surprised to learn how it really is up there.”

Kanin didn’t say anything to that, and we traveled in silence for a while.

He finally stopped at a steel ladder that went up to a metal grate on the ceiling. Pushing it aside with the ease of vampire strength, he climbed through the hole and beckoned me to follow.

“Where are we now?” I asked, trailing him down another long cement hallway. At the end of this one, we hit a rusty metal door, locked, of course, but Kanin put his shoulder to the metal and bashed it open.

“We,” he replied, stepping back for me to take in my surroundings, “are in the basement storage of the city’s old museum.”

I gazed around in wonder. We were standing at the edge of the largest room I’d ever seen in my life, a warehouse of cement and steel that stretched farther than even my vampire vision reached. Rusting metal shelves created a labyrinth of aisles, hundreds of narrow corridors that vanished into the back of the room. The contents of those shelves were covered in sheets or stored in wooden boxes, wrapped in a thick film of spiderwebs and dust. If I took in a breath I could smell the choking stench of mold and fungi, growing everywhere, but surprisingly, the shelves seemed fairly intact.

“I can’t believe this place is so…unbroken,” I said, as we started down one of the narrow aisles. Under a filthy sheet, I caught a glimpse of yellow bone and lifted the corner to reveal the skeleton of some kind of enormous cat, frozen in a crouch. I stared at it, amazed, wondering why anyone would want to keep the dead bones of an animal. It was kind of creepy, seeing it like that, without skin and fur. “What the heck is this place anyway?”

“Before the plague, museums were places of history,” Kanin explained as I hurried away from the cat to catch up. His voice echoed in the vastness. “Places of collected knowledge, places where they stored all the items, memories and artifacts of other cultures.”

I paused, catching sight of a mannequin dressed in furs and animal hide. Feathers poked out of its hair, and it held some kind of stone ax. “Why?”

“To remember the past, to not let it fade away. The customs, histories, religions and governments of a thousand cultures are stored here. There are other places like this one all around the world, hidden and forgotten by man. Places that still hold their secrets, waiting to be discovered again.”

“I can’t believe the vamps haven’t burned this place to the ground.”

“They tried,” Kanin replied. “The building above us has been destroyed, no trace of it remains. But the city vampires are mostly concerned with what happens on the surface—they rarely venture down into the tunnels and the secrets below the earth. If they knew about this place, you can be sure they would have burned it to ashes.”

I scowled, hating the vampires again. “And humans will never know about it, will they?” I muttered, following Kanin down an aisle, feeling morose. “All this knowledge, right under their feet, and they’ll never know.”

“Maybe not today.” Kanin stopped at a shelf holding a long, narrow wooden box. Faded red letters were printed on the side, below all the cobwebs and dust, but it was difficult to read. “But there will come a time when man is no longer concerned only with survival, when he will once more be curious as to who came before him, what life was like a thousand years ago, and he will seek out answers to these questions. Maybe it won’t happen for a hundred years or so, but humans’ curiosity has always driven them to find answers. Even our race cannot keep them in the dark forever.”

He broke the box open and rummaged through the contents. I heard the clink and scrape of metal, and then he pulled something out.

It was a sword, a long, double-edged blade with a black metal hilt that looked like a cross. Kanin held it in one hand, but the blade itself was huge, probably close to five feet. With the hilt, it was a few inches taller than me.

“Two-handed German greatsword,” he said, giving me, and it, a scrutinizing look, sizing us up. “Probably too big for you.”

“You think?”

He replaced it and opened another box from the shelf overhead, this time pulling out a large, spiked ball on a chain. It looked extremely nasty, and I was intrigued, but he let it drop with barely a second glance.

“Hey, what was that?” Easing forward, I tried peering into the box on tiptoe, but he shouldered me away. “Oh, come on. I want to see the big-spiky-ball thing.”

“You do
not
need a flail.” Kanin scowled, as though imagining what I could do with it. I tried peeking into the box again, and he gave me an exasperated look, warning me back. I glared at him.

“Fine. Then tell me, oh, great one. What are we looking for? What
do
I need?”

He pulled out another weapon, a spear with a long metal tip, and put it back with a shake of his head. “I’m not sure.”

I peeked under another cloth, where a stuffed-dog-looking thing stared back sightlessly. “Why are we looking for ancient weapons, anyway?” I muttered, dropping the cloth. “Wouldn’t it be easier to use, oh, I don’t know…a gun?”

“Guns require ammunition,” Kanin replied without looking up. “Ammunition is difficult to find, even if the Prince did not have a stranglehold on the automatic weapon distribution in the city. And an empty gun is about as useful as a large paperweight. Besides, guns are impractical for dealing with our kind. Unless you can somehow tear off our head, bullets will only slow us down at best. To adequately protect yourself from a vampire, you’re going to need a blade. Now…” He moved to the next box, tearing off the lid, nails and all. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and look through a few of these yourself? See if anything jumps out at you. Remember, you’re looking for a
blade.
Not a mace or a maul or a huge spiked chain that you’d probably hurt yourself with trying to learn.”

“Fine.” I wandered down the aisle, looking at random articles. “But I still say the flail looked like it could bash in a vamp’s head pretty efficiently.”

“Allison—”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

More wooden boxes lined the aisle to either side, covered in dust. I brushed back a film of cobwebs and grime to read the words on the side of the nearest carton.
Longswords: Medieval Europe, 12th century.
The rest was lost to time and age. Another read:
Musketeer Rapie…
something or other. Another apparently had a full suit of gladiator armor, whatever a gladiator was.