The Meridian Gamble (66 page)

He smiles at me graciously, in a
perfected manner that almost seems real. But the anger in his eyes is replaced
with a wicked gleam that frightens me.

“Follow me, please.”

Vincenzo turns to walk off, almost
daring us to keep pace, and we have no choice but to follow.

The last thing I want is a tour
from this guy, but I slowly realize that I’m seeing something perhaps no other
Luminos has viewed; the heart of the vampire kingdom. Not unless they were
brought here to be killed.

We near one of the walls that
surround an opening to the floor below, and when I look over it, I see there
are several potted plants on the lower level, rose bushes and a small tree.
Light streams in from somewhere, it seems to be shooting at the plants from all
sides, and the trick is fascinating. It reminds me of the way the foliage was
lit in the New York tower.

“Below, we have the garden,”
Vincenzo says, in an off-handed manner, already seeming bored.

“How do you keep them alive down
here where there’s no light?”

“There is artificial lighting, of
course. But we also have a series of mirrors that stream light from above, from
locations that are secure to us.”

“They can bring in so much light,
it makes it look like daytime down here,” Roland says. “But, of course, they
prefer to keep it dark and dreary.”

“Are you giving this tour, or am I?”
Vincenzo hisses.

And Roland says nothing. I worry
that I’ve destroyed the goodwill that had existed between them, but there’s
nothing I can do about that now. But after a few steps, Vincenzo’s demeanor
brightens again, and he looks to me with a smile.

“How lucky we are to so quickly
come upon something interesting in our little tour. These, my cherished
Meridian, are our playpens.”

He takes us down a long, low
corridor that is just off the opening that overlooked the trees. It’s much
darker here, and I can barely see where I’m going. I can’t even see any doors,
but Vincenzo takes me to what must be the first one, and opens an old-fashioned
grate on it, so that we can look inside.

There’s a pretty young woman tied
up in a chair, and a handsome young man is circling her. He has on a white
shirt, which is spattered with blood, and tight black pants. He’s beautiful,
and looks like one of the bright young executives from the agency, or maybe a
model, and has hair that’s cropped short and slicked back.

And the girl in the chair is
sobbing.

“Timothy is a very naughty boy. He
loves to play with his food. He romances his prey, seduces them as if he was
just another bright and successful college boy on a tour of France. And after
they have fallen completely in love with him, he confesses his secret, and begs
them to join him in the eternal life. And when they finally agree, he brings
them down here. But imagine their surprise when they realize there’s no eternal
life to be had. At least not for them. They’re only his next meal.”

“And does he never feel anything
for them? Is he totally devoid of emotion, or are vampires capable of feeling
love in some way?”

From inside the room, Timothy
smirks at me.

“We save our love for other
vampires. To bestow it upon our food would be a waste,” he says, turning to
Roland with a look of disappointment.

“And he never changes his mind and
grants them the transformation?”

“His turn has not come as of yet.
But when it does, we will all have to wait a long while, because we’re quite
certain that Timothy will be slow to decide. Or he’ll barter his gift for some
favor from one of our brethren, because he seems to enjoy his game quite
dearly.”

And from inside the room, Timothy
smiles once again.

“How sad that the joke’s on him. At
least this way their suffering ends, while poor Timothy is stuck being an
insufferable prick for all of eternity.”

I don’t know why I say it, I can’t
stop myself. It’s foolish to taunt the vampires in the heart of their evil. And
I watch, as Timothy lunges toward the door. And he must be a young vampire,
because Roland is not afraid of him in the least. He raises his hand, and shuts
the grate on the door, telepathically. And from the other side come the muffled
noises of what sounds like Timothy, flying across the chamber.

Vincenzo glares at him, but I can
see a smile crack on Roland’s face.

“Lest you think we’re completely
cruel, sometimes we do allow a particularly strong human specimen to receive
the gift of becoming a vampire. But it’s only after they’ve proven their
endurance. And they must have a very strong constitution, indeed, because some
of our brethren can be quite aggressive with their prey. After years of being
an immortal, one gets bored, and we have to become particularly creative to
amuse ourselves.”

Vincenzo comes to the next door and
opens the grate, and hesitantly, I look inside.

The room is barren, but there are
several inches of grimy water covering the floor, stretching from wall to wall.
A young man with shaggy hair is suspended from the ceiling in shackles, and his
dangling feet rest in the water. He’s naked, and probably passed out, but I
can’t see his face.

A muscular man with a bare torso
walks around him, holding some sort of electric prod, and a whip. And he
doesn’t have to bare his teeth for me to know he’s a vampire. He lowers the tip
of the prod into the water, and an electrical pulse courses through it, which
makes the boy twitch. But with his stronger constitution, the vampire doesn’t
so much as flinch.

The boy rouses and screams in pain,
as the vampire whips him viciously. And he proceeds to lick the blood from his
wounds, running his hands over the young man’s body from behind.

And when he’s done, the vampire
moves even closer, and begins to unfasten his pants.

I divert my eyes, not wanting to
see what else he’s about to do next.

“I don’t need to see this,” I say.

“No? Well, perhaps I can find
something more to your taste.”

Vincenzo closes the grate on the
door, and moves on. He smiles and looks my way every once in a while, and I can
see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes, which must be a bad thing. He
continues on, and Roland doesn’t seem to want to challenge him, so I take a
deep breath and follow.

Our host takes us down another
hallway, and I can hear muffled sounds coming from the doors that we pass. I
don’t want to think about what’s going on behind them, what kind of new and
unimaginable tortures are being inflicted. Vincenzo finally stops at another
door, and opens it with a mischievous grin, and gives a sidelong glance my way.
And he slowly opens it.

“We call this one ‘the Box.’”

I follow him inside, and the room
is startling at first. It’s all white and spotless, and stands in sharp
contrast to the rest of the dark and dusky chambers of the catacombs that we’ve
walked through. The walls are painted white, the floor is covered in white
tiles. Lighting fixtures are imbedded into the walls, electric ones, so it
would seem that not everything down here is run on candles, and it gives the
room an almost modern feel, at least compared to the rest of the place.

At the center is a table, with a
long white box on top of it. Several thin metal spikes are coming out of it,
and where there aren’t needles, there are tiny dots on the surface of the box
for them to be stuck through.

As we get closer, I can hear it; a
low, muffled sound emanating from within. At first, I think there might be an
animal inside, but then I realize the sounds are human, perhaps from someone
who has had his or her mouth gagged or taped shut. And they’re whimpering in pain.

And what Vincenzo does next is
almost too fast for me to see.

There are several needles lying on
the table, and he grabs one and stabs it through quickly with a wicked smile on
his face. And from inside, I can hear the screams growing louder, if only for a
few moments, and eventually they subside, from the person most likely passing
out from the pain.

I realize I’ve seen this hideous
device before, in another life, on a stage in London. It’s a version of the
contraption I damned Philippa Middleton to enter, where she met the end of her
life as the audience watched on with glee.

I feel sickened, and try to hide
the nausea that threatens to overcome me. Which, I’m sure, is exactly the
reaction Vincenzo wants. He must be able to detect the hint of discomfort on my
face, though I’m not sure if he knows the real reason it’s there. I’m not sure
how much he knows of my past life as Caroline, or if he realizes I’m Saga at
all, though I wouldn’t be surprised if my being here isn’t a coincidence.

And Vincenzo begins to babble.

“This is a wonderful little toy
we’ve developed over the years. We use it as the final test for those who wish
to become vampires. If they can survive 10 pins in the box over a 24-hour
period, we allow them the gift of immortality. But there’s a twist, of course.”

“And what would that be?” I say,
afraid to ask.

“Five of the pins are inserted by
the maker. Or potential maker. But the others are done by five of our brethren,
chosen randomly. So we vampires need to be very nice to one another, or
whenever we try to grant immortality, our enemies will stick all their pins
straight through the heart.”

He takes another, and sticks it
into the box with lightning speed, and just a bit of flourish, as though he’s
putting on a show. Vincenzo reaches behind the box, and pulls out a goblet
that’s resting on the table. There’s some sort of spigot on the side, and when
he opens it, red fluid comes pouring out. He tips the glass against his lips,
and smiles in delight.

“Ah … somehow, the blood tastes
it’s freshest when it’s harvested this way, though I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s
all the adrenaline that courses through the veins. Would you care for some,
Roland?”

He passes Roland the glass, and my
protector takes a sip, eying me over the cup. But I’m not sure what to think.
Part of me feels that he’s going along with this, just to put on a show, so as
not to offend Vincenzo any more than I already have. And part of me wonders how
many of these cruel games he’s taken part in over the course of his long life.

“So, if all vampires go through
this, does that mean you survived the box?” I ask.

“Well, of course,” Vincenzo says.
“In fact, I am the only one to have survived a pin through the heart.”

It sounds awful, but he seems
completely unaffected by this.

“That must have been very hard on
you,” I say.

Vincenzo only shrugs.

“It was my destiny to become a
vampire, to have survived my maker’s enemy. And what are a few moments of
discomfort in exchange for a lifetime of pleasures. It was a small price to
pay.”

And I want to kill him. I want to
do what his maker’s enemy couldn’t do. More than any other vampire I’ve
encountered, I want to put an end to Vincenzo’s existence, because he’s a
monster.

And he lifts another needle from
the pile.

“The one inside now is mine, actually,”
Vincenzo says. “And my pet is doing quite nicely. We’re down to the final two
pins.”

He turns to Roland.

“They both belong to me, but I’m
willing to share if you’d care to do the honors, Roland.”

Roland doesn’t hesitate. He looks
me in the eyes, and never breaks our gaze, as he plunges the needle into the
box. More horrifying screams ensue from within, and I can’t help but to notice
that the point he stabs through is in the area of where I imagine the arm to
be. So in his own way, perhaps Roland takes mercy.

Vincenzo picks up another pin, and
turns to me.

“One more. Meridian, would you care
to take part in the game? I don’t want to be a selfish host.”

“I’m not sure that I’m strong
enough.”

“Oh, they’re quite sharp. We design
them that way. If you give a hard enough push, they slide through the flesh
like butter. It’s magical. Please, do give it a try.”

“Why not?” I say. “I can hardly
refuse such a generous offer. Or such a delightful host.”

I take the pin from his hand, and
Vincenzo looks surprised. He laughs, looking to Roland with a smile.

“Oh, this one has spunk! I like
that,” he says. “Perhaps I was too hard on you, after all.”

“Where is this person’s head?”

“To your right,” Vincenzo says.

And I look to Roland, who nods his
head, telling me Vincenzo isn’t lying. And our host narrows his eyes,
considering me, carefully.

And he watches me, more than just a
bit curious. I’m sure that Vincenzo thinks I’m going to take my revenge and
kill his precious pet. And, indeed, at first I walk toward the head, and smile
as I run the pin over where the heart must be. Yet, slowly, I change my
direction.

I go to the other end of the box,
to one of the holes where I think the feet are, and plunge the needle through.
I only hope I aim right, and that if this is the last one, I can end the
torture for the person inside, and grant them their dream of becoming a
vampire. I hope that I hit a spot that will give them the least amount of pain.

But as I press the needle in, the
pin stops, and Vincenzo clucks his tongue.

“No, no, no,” he says. “That will
not do. It must go in all the way.”

And I bring the palm of my hand
down on it, pushing the pin through in a way that causes him to smile. And from
inside, the screams continue.

“Good show! Very nicely done,” he
says. “There may be hope for this one, yet.”

He applauds me, even though there’s
more screaming. I hope the person inside is counting, and that they know
they’ve finally reached freedom. I hope I’m not unleashing another monster on
the world, who’ll be as cruel and vicious as our host, after their
transformation. But Vincenzo looks to the box with an exaggerated expression of
concern, and starts counting on his own.