The Stuff of Dreams (20 page)

As she indignantly turned to the door, the old woman cursed in a low voice. Her back suddenly hunched over again. Taking the girl with downcast eyes by the hand, Granny dragged her out into the hall and disappeared.

The door closed with a force that shook the room. The reverberations were absorbed then by the air and building materials, and mere seconds later, when silence once again ruled the darkness—the chirping began. The sound of bugs, small and distant, could be heard pecking at the dark of night, scratching at the hearts of all who heard it. It was the sort of sound that made those who heard it want to lie down deep in the earth. To those who were leaving, the songs bid them adieu. But how many listeners likened the melody the bugs continued to play to a funeral dirge? The sound continued just a little while longer, and soon, outside the room’s tiny window, the light pink petals began to rain down. Yet even then, the figure lying on the bed did nothing, as if melodies of parting and funeral laments held no relevance for him.

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III

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The next day, the world belonged to the winds. Every time they whistled forlornly, a thin coat of what looked like gold dust was thrown onto the streets.

It was still early morning when the angry voices surrounded the hotel. The number of people around the building and packing its lobby seemed like it encompassed the entire population of the small town. They demanded the hotel manager immediately chase off the Vampire Hunter that was staying there. Reluctant at first, he consented after hearing all the circumstances. And while he understood the reasons, his heart must’ve been heavy at the thought of dealing with the greatest Hunter on earth, because his steps were sluggish as he headed to the stairs from the front desk.

All of the townspeople behind the manager were armed. Although there was usually comfort in numbers, the reason their faces were pale as paper was because they, like all residents of the Frontier, were well-informed as to Hunters’ capabilities in general. Their stiff, cold, and clammy fingers wrapped tightly around their stake-firing guns and long spears.

It was probably the manager’s good fortune that he didn’t have to knock on the door in the end. Even before he raised his trembling hand, the door had creaked open and the room’s occupant appeared. His handsome countenance silently looked out at them, causing them to forget their murderous rage and become completely dazed. But it was the manager who noticed D was prepared to set off on a trip. Bringing his hand to his heart in relief, he asked, “Will you be leaving, sir?”

“I can’t rest here any longer.” D’s eyes gazed quietly at the men filling the hallway. The lust for violence that’d churned there had already disappeared, and they were gripped now by
a sort of lethargy—just from that one glance from the Hunter. As D walked into the hallway, the mass of people broke to either side as if pushed back by some unseen agent. Nothing showed
in the eyes of the men pressed against the wall but fear. D went down the stairs. The lobby was a crucible of furious
humanity. Like the sea in days of old, they parted right down
the middle, opening a straight path between the Vampire Hunter and the door.

“Your bill has been paid,” the manager called from behind him.

D went outside. In the street there was a flurry of wind and people—and eyes steeped in hatred and fear. Just as he took hold of the reins to his cyborg horse in the shack next to the hotel, a cheerful voice called out to him.

“Scaring the hell out of a group that size is quite a feat,” Clay Bullow said, donning a carefree smile, though D didn’t even look at him as he got up in the saddle. “Hold up. We’re leaving, too. Why don’t you come with us?” Clay suggested, seeming just a bit flustered. The hotheadedness of the previous night had burned away like a fog. He was also on horseback, with the reins in his hands. “My brother’s waiting at the edge of town. You know, I’m not talking about us all being friends or nothing. We just wanna settle up with you.”

As D casually rode off, Clay gave a kick to his mount’s flanks and headed after him. Flicking the reins, he pulled up on D’s left side.

“Now this is a surprise! Guess I should’ve expected no less,” he said, eyes going wide. His exclamation was entirely sincere. “You draw your sword over your right shoulder. If you leave me on your left, you can’t try to cut me without turning your horse and everything this way. Now, have you got so much confidence you don’t care about something like that, or are you just plain stupid? Just so you know—this is my good side.”

By that, Clay must’ve meant the hand he’d use. His harp was on his right hip. His hand glided toward the strings.

“Care to try me?” the Hunter asked.

Clay’s hand froze in midair. All it had taken was that one question from D. The Hunter was just rocking back and forth on his horse.

The people saw Clay’s mount halt while the Hunter rode away at a leisurely pace.

D turned the corner. The great gates that separated the town from the desert were hazy through the clouds of sand. They lay straight ahead of him. D advanced without saying a word.

Massive forms challenged the sky to either side of the gate—enormous trees that were the deepest shade of blue. Looking like thousands of giant serpents twisted together, the trunk of each had countless cracks running through it. There were no smaller branches or twigs. Naturally, there were no leaves, either. The two colossal trees had died ages ago. Beside the huge tree on the right, a figure in a silk hat sat on a horse. Next to the one on the left was a wagon with a cylindrical cover. Covered on three sides by
a canopy of reinforced plastic, the driver’s seat was occupied by Granny Viper and Tae sat next to her. All of them were waiting for D—but the Hunter rode by without glancing at any of them.

“My younger brother was supposed to go collect you,” Bingo said, his face turned to the ground under his black bowler hat suggesting that he was still “asleep.” As he spoke in his sleep, his voice seemed unbounded. “But I guess the Hunter D was a little too much baggage for him to handle after all,” the elder Bullow continued. “Someday, we’d like some of your time to settle things nice and leisurely. We’re headed down the same road you are. What do you say to going with us?”

Granny Viper cackled like a bird of prey, blowing aside the dusty clouds. “You think our young friend here travels with anyone else? Looks like the Fighting Bullow Brothers have gone soft in the head! He’s always on his own. He was born alone, lives alone, and he’ll die alone. One look at him should be enough to tell you as much.”

The crone turned an enraptured gaze on the pale profile riding past her. “But this time,” she said to the Hunter, “I need you to make an exception. Now, I don’t know what you’re up to, but if you’re going across the desert, then Barnabas is the only place you could be headed, which happens to be where we’re headed, too. Even if you don’t want to come with us, we still have the right to follow along after you.” Glaring in Bingo’s direction, she added in a tone that could cow a giant man, “Sheesh. I don’t know what you boys are trying to prove, but we could do without you. I’m giving you fair warning. If you make a move against D, I’ll take it as a move against us. Try anything funny, and you’ll find yourselves with more than one foe on your hands.”

And then the crone pulled back on her reins and sent an electric current through the metallic rings looped around the necks of the four cyborg horses in her team, triggering the release of adrenaline. A hot and heavy wind smacked the horses in the face as they hit the street. Beyond the great gates that opened to either side, D’s shape was dwindling in the distance. The wagon followed him, with Bingo’s horse about a minute behind. Five minutes later, Clay passed through the gate. As soon as he’d left,
a sad sound began to ring out all over town. If the wind was a song that bid them farewell, then the cries of the bugs were a funeral dirge. But before long, even that died out.

The crone’s covered wagon soon pulled up on D’s right-hand side. Golden terrain stretched on forever. The sky was a leaden hue as the thick canopy of clouds that shrouded the desert was almost never pierced by the rays of the sun. In the last fifty years or so, the sun was seen only once. Somewhere out on the line that divided heaven from earth, a few ribbons of light had burst through the sea of clouds in a sight that was said to be beautiful beyond compare. Some said there was a town out where it’d shone, but after that, the light was never seen again.

“Oh my, looks like those two really are coming along,” Granny said after adjusting her canopy and peering into the omni-directional safety mirror. Made of more than a dozen lenses bent into special angles and wired in place, the mirror not only provided clear views of all four sides of the wagon, but of the sky above it and earth below it, as well. The figures that appeared in the lens that covered the back, of course, were the Bullow Brothers. “Why do you reckon they’re following you?” the crone asked the Hunter as she wiped the sweat from her brow. Though sunlight didn’t penetrate the clouds, the heat had no trouble getting through. In fact, the inescapable swelter was a special characteristic of this desert. “They say a fighter’s blood starts pumping faster when he finds someone tougher than him. Well,” she laughed, “it sure as hell ain’t anything as neat as all that. You know why you were thrown out of that hotel?”

D didn’t answer her. Most likely it was all the same to him. He’d probably have just left his lodging at checkout time. No matter what the townspeople tried, it wouldn’t have mattered, because in truth, they wouldn’t have been able to do anything to him.

The old woman looked to the heavens in disgust. “Unbelievable! The mob back in town was ready to kill you. You must’ve known as much. And yet you mean to tell me you don’t even wanna know why?”

Waiting a while for an answer, the old woman finally shrugged her shoulders.

“Watch out for those two, you hear me? The reason everyone in town was after you is because the daughter of some farmer out on the edge of town had her blood drained last night. They’ve probably got her in isolation by now, but when they found her in that state this morning, they just jumped to the conclusion you were to blame. After all, you are the world-famous Vampire Hunter D. Everyone knows that you’re a 100 percent genuine dhampir.”

As Granny said this, she took her left hand off the reins, got the canteen that sat by her feet, and brought it to her mouth. The temperature continued to climb rapidly—a sure sign that the world humans inhabited was now far away.

“Now, I can tell with just one look at you, you’re not that kind of weak-willed, half-baked Noble, but the world don’t work that way. Everyone got all steamed up and figured it was all your fault, which is why they formed that big ol’ mob. Hell, they don’t know for sure if she was even bitten or not. Truth is, any quack in town could’ve easily made a wound that’d look like that. Give the girl a shot of anesthetic, and she’d have the same symptoms as if one of the Nobility fed on her, and she wouldn’t be able to eat for four or five days, either. They did it,” the crone said, tossing her jaw in the direction of the two brothers. “They did it to get you thrown out.”

Seeing a slight movement of D’s lips, the old woman had to smother a smile of delight.

“Why would they want me thrown out of town?” the Hunter asked, though from his tone it was completely uncertain whether or not he was actually interested. It was like the voice of the wind or a stone—given the nature of the young man, the wind seemed more likely.

“I wouldn’t have the slightest notion about that,” the crone said, smirking all the while. “You should ask them. After all, they’re following along after you. But it’s my hope that you’ll hold off on any fighting till our journey’s safely over. I don’t wanna lose my precious escort, you see.”

Not seeming upset that he’d been appointed her guardian, D said, “Soon.”

The word startled the old woman. “What, you mean something’s coming? Been across this desert before, have you?”

“I read some notes written by someone who crossed it a long time ago,” D replied, his eyes staring straight ahead.

There was no breeze, just endless crests of gray and gold. The temperature had passed a hundred and five. The crone was drenched with sweat.

“If the contents are to be believed, the man who kept that notebook made it halfway across,” D continued.

“And that’s where he met his death, eh? What killed him?”

“When I found him, he was just a skeleton, but his arm was poking out from some rocks with his notebook still clutched in his hand.”

The old woman shrugged. “At any rate, it probably won’t do us much good, right? I mean, you must’ve gone as far as he did in that case.”

“When I found him, he was out in the middle of the Mishgault stone stacks.”

Granny’s eyes bulged. “That’s over three thousand miles from here. You don’t say . . . So, that’s how it goes, eh? The seas of sand play interesting games, don’t they? What should we do, then?”

“Think for yourself.”

“Now I’ll—” the old woman said, about to fly into a rage, but a semitransparent globe drifted before her. The front canopy was in the woman’s way, so she touched its curved plastic surface and it quickly retracted to the rear.

The thing was about a foot and a half in diameter. It was perfectly round, too. Within it, a multicolored mass that seemed to be a liquid was gently rippling.

“A critter of some sort,” Granny remarked. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Tae, get inside.”

Once she’d sent the girl into the depths of the covered wagon, the crone took the nearby blunderbuss and laid it across her lap. With a muzzle that flared like the end of a trumpet, the weapon would launch a two-ounce ball of lead with just a light squeeze of its trigger. Pulling out the round it already contained, the old woman took a scattershot shell from the tin ammo box that sat by the weapon and loaded that instead. Her selection was based merely on a gut feeling, but it was a good choice. From somewhere up ahead of them, more globes than they could count began to surround the wagon and the rider.