The Vault (A Farm Novel) (30 page)

CARTER

There were guys waiting for us on the other side of the door. Sebastian managed to get it closed before any of them could wedge a boot in or anything. They raised their guns, and he just held up his hands, smiling.

I couldn’t help it. As I raised my hands, too, I said, “Take me to your leader.”

They brought us out through the building to the parking lot where—I’m not even kidding—someone had set up a tent. Not like a camping tent. Like a friggin’ pavilion. It was set up beside a spindly oak tree on the dry patches of dirt that served as landscaping in this part of Texas.

They’d already searched us, so one of the guards—someone I didn’t recognize and hadn’t seen before—raised the flap and gestured for us to enter.

The place was like something out of
Arabian Nights
. The tent was made of patterned red fabric. Inside there was a thick rug and an enormous stack of pillows in one corner with a blanket thrown over it. There was a table and chairs and incense burning, something overly sweet like patchouli, but it didn’t quite cover a lingering unpleasant smell. Marek was standing in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest, looking as stoic and freezerlike as ever. And there was Sabrina. Looking serene and lovely. And dressed in tan jodhpurs and riding boots, like she was going on safari or something.

She smiled broadly when she saw us. “Ah. Welcome to my home!”

“Your home?” Sebastian asked with an arched eyebrow. “Don’t you mean my home? And for that matter, aren’t you going to formally request sanctuary in compliance with the Meso-Americana Accords of 1409?”

“Oh, I definitely would have if you’d arrived”—she looked pointedly at her watch and tipped her head to the side—“two hours and nineteen minutes ago.”

I looked at Sebastian. “What’s she talking about?”

Sebastian pinched his mouth closed in a straight line. Under his breath he said, “I’m not sure, but now would be a great time for a visit to Bambi’s meadow.”

Sabrina looked from him to me and back again before giving one of her cackling laughs. “Shall I tell him or shall you?” Then she waved her hand and added, “No, no. Let me do it. I so love a twist in the plot.” She slithered over to him. “According to the Meso-Americana Accords of 1409, of which Sebastian is a signee but I sadly am not, a vampire may establish territory—even within the boundaries of another’s borders—by establishing a home, holding it securely against invaders, and making a substantial blood sacrifice.”

As she said this last, she strolled back to the area with the pillows and whipped off the blanket. Lying there, arms and legs splayed out, eyes open and sightless, throat slit, was the fragile body of Paul Workman.

That’s when I got it. The fancy tent wasn’t just for show. It was a home that she’d established here. The incense was covering the scent of Workman’s dead body, which had been lying in his blood, his shit, and his piss for . . . oh, I’d guess the past two hours and nineteen minutes.

Except that didn’t quite make sense, because he smelled worse than that. Like he’d been dead for days not hours. But he’d been slowly dying for months. Maybe this was just what death smelled like when you did it by inches.

Beside me, Sebastian was all but trembling with rage. I could almost see it rising off him like heat off the Texas blacktop. I knew it was all his, because my own emotions were still firmly entrenched in the disgust and horror range. As for him? I got the feeling it was all he could do not to launch himself across the tent at her.

Since he was apparently too angry even to speak, I said, “Let me guess: two hours and nineteen minutes ago, you murdered Paul Workman?”

The pillows were stacked almost waist high and Workman’s body was angled so that his head was tipped back over the edge of one of them, the stringy wisps of his hair dangling. His blood was drying on the edges of the pillows below him and puddled on the ground. She lovingly stroked Workman’s hair back into place.

“No. I sacrificed dear Paul almost as soon as the tent was pitched. That was almost a full twenty-four hours ago. No, the two hours ago was when I fought off the invaders.”

Invaders? What the hell did that mean? I gave Sebastian a look, but he didn’t even notice.

Sabrina must have seen the question in my eyes, because she crossed to one of the open flaps of the tent and called out to someone. “Bring in the other.”

A moment later, a guard pushed someone through the door. At first, I didn’t recognize the hunched shape because he had on a hoodie and it was pulled up over his face. But Sabrina strolled over and whipped the hood back.

Marcus.

Shit.

He looked terrified.

I took an instinctive step toward him. Marek had come up behind me and clamped a hand down on my shoulder. “Marcus, what have you done?”

Marcus gave me a defiant look and bumped up his chin. “Yo.”

Sabrina threw back her head and cackled. “I know! Isn’t it a delicious twist? Here I was, camp all set up, waiting for one of you to put in an appearance so I could solidify my claim to this patch of land, and then he shows up and tries to sneak into my tent with a—” She was laughing so much she could hardly speak. “With a tent stake! Taken from my own tent! Isn’t it delightful?”

I felt the hand on my shoulder tighten and it was the only thing keeping me in my place.

“Enough,” Sebastian barked.

Sabrina’s laughter vanished. “Isn’t it, though? Isn’t it exactly enough for me to establish my own tiny swath of territory?” She slithered right up next to him and traced a hand down his cheek. “And so close to your own. Oh, it must be driving you batty.” She laughed again and turned her attention to me and winked. “Get it? Batty? Oh, I do love a good pun.”

The sight of that wink creeped me out. Was this more of her showmanship? Was she really this crazy, or was it all part of her act? Did it matter whether she was unhinged when she was gearing up to kill us all?

“Sabrina, no one here believes you actually want this territory or are prepared to defend it to the death.” Sebastian’s eye twitched as he spoke.

“No. But I am prepared to make more blood sacrifices until my hold on it is firm enough to defeat you if I should need to.” She smiled at Marcus, who looked like he might wet himself.

“What is it you actually want? Is it the boy? You need an
abductura
?” Sebastian put a hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me forward. “Then take him.”

“Ah, so generous of you,” Sabrina purred as she crossed to stand before me. She ran a gentle hand down my cheek as she studied my face. “He is just adorable, isn’t he? So earnest. So serious. He would be so much fun to play with.” Then she gave my cheek a tap. “But, no thank you.”

“But—” I started to ask.

“I’m afraid I don’t actually need an
abductura
.”

“But Workman—”

“Was fabulous. The absolute best I’ve ever had. But he was only one of many.” She tilted her head and considered Sebastian. “This is the problem with men. They never think far enough ahead. I’ve found women are much better at planning long term. I haven’t had just a single
abductura
since that awful flu epidemic in 1918.”

I felt oddly calm, despite the fact that our plan was crap and the situation was spiraling rapidly out of control. Despite the fact that Sebastian was about to crawl out of his skin. And that was when it hit me. I suddenly understood why I felt so oddly detached.

Marek was an
abductura
. I didn’t know why I hadn’t felt it before. He was subtle and he was good. It was just the faintest trickle of soothing green meadow and frolicking butterflies.

Sabrina clucked her tongue, as if chiding Sebastian, and then turned back to me. “No, Carter, my dear boy, I don’t need you. If, when this is all over and I’ve murdered Sebastian . . . if you survive and would like to apply for the position, we’ll talk. But until that time, I’m afraid you’ll have to offer up something just a little more valuable.”

MEL

When I wake, my brain is no longer rabbit fast, it’s roadrunner fast. Too quick to catch, too speedy for even the wiliest of coyotes.

I find Lily pacing in the living room, like Wile E. waiting for the package from Acme.

She is lost and worried, about me, about Carter, even about Sebastian, whom she has never liked. She tells me the plan, which is good, even though I know it won’t work. Plans never work, not the way you expect them to.

I know what we need to do. Exactly what we need to do, but the words get stuck in a logjam and this time even my nursery rhymes fail me. I’ve been away from them for far too long and I’ve lost them like kittens and mittens and now there’ll be no pie.

Which might work if pie was what I wanted. When what I actually want is Lily . . . Joan of . . . “Robin Hood,” I blurt out, because he’s the archer I want. “Like Mulan with the apple on the arrow.”

I can see she’s got it now. The idea of the arrow at least, but she’s shaking her head. “Even if I can still use the crossbow in Sebastian’s office, I’m not sure that shooting Sabrina will do any good.” She’s pacing now. “I mean, an arrow through the heart works great for a stupid Tick, who doesn’t think to pull the arrow out, but for Sabrina . . .”

And I know she still doesn’t get it. “It’s not the arrow that will kill her. It’s the blood.”

“The blood?” Lily asks. “I’m supposed to get her to feed from someone? Someone whose blood is poisonous? How can I do that?”

“Don’t feed her. Inject her.”

“Inject her? With the cure?” Lily’s eyes light up. “Right. Because it will knock her out. And take her out of the equation. Probably forever.” She grabs me in a quick hug. “Mel, you’re a genius.”

Which I already knew.

“A bird in hand is better than two in the bush, but two in hand is better still,” I tell her, and I believe she understands because she gets me even when I’m at my most difficult.

LILY

I test out the crossbow first, shoot an arrow right into Sebastian’s office chair. If we make it out of this, I will happily buy him a new one. If there’s anywhere left that still makes office chairs. If not, maybe I can learn to sew.

The good news: the crossbow works. Which I suppose I should have expected, since the weaponry here isn’t a display, it’s an arsenal.

I’m at a loss about what to do next, but Mel must have it all worked out, because when I emerge from the office with the crossbow and four arrows, she’s waiting at the kitchen table with the first-aid kit and four vials of the cure. She wears the new Slinky on her wrist like a bracelet.

We carefully wrap the tips of the arrows in gauze bandages and tie them on. Then I slide the vials of the cure into the pocket of my hoodie. We’ll put those on at the last minute. I stash the arrows into the duffel bag as well as a pair of binoculars I found and sling it onto my back like a backpack, with the bag open at the top and the arrows sticking out. The crossbow has its own strap and I sling that over my shoulder as well. Then I look at Mel.

“Okay. I assume that if you came up with this plan, you had some idea how to get out of here and to a location where I can shoot these.”

She nods, smiling slightly, and gestures for me to follow her. First, she takes me back up to the office, where she shows me the live video feed from the security cameras outside. We can see Sabrina’s army out in the parking lot. We get that view from about five different angles. She’s got this crazy, bedouin-style tent set up in the middle of the lot. One of the cameras is right outside the vault. In that one, I can see the utilitarian hallway, the smear of blood where the dead bodies lay for days—but apparently now have been taken away—and a cadre of Sabrina’s men. Another camera shows the front entrance of this building. I recognize the sprawling copy of Picasso’s
Guernica
over the reception desk, which seems like pretty grim lobby art. And then there’s another shot of a different lobby. Not this building. The reception desk is similar, but instead of the Picasso, there’s a banal landscape of a pond and willow tree.

Mel points to this picture. “‘One of them leads to the castle at the center of the labyrinth, and the other one leads to . . .’” she says in an odd voice.

I shake my head. “I don’t get it.”

She repeats the phrase and then adds, “‘B-b-b-BOOM!’”

“Oh. It’s a quote from . . .” Dang it. What movie? Something we watched as kids. “
Labyrinth
! ‘One of them leads to the castle at the center of the labyrinth, and the other leads to . . .’ ‘B-b-b-BOOM’?”

“‘Certain death,’” she supplies.

“Nice.” I look at the screen again. “Okay. The hallway just outside that door, which leads to the lobby with the Picasso, which leads to the parking lot and Sabrina’s circus of horror. That’s the way to certain death. Obviously. So this other lobby, that must be the castle at the center of the labyrinth.” I turn to Mel. “So how do I get into the labyrinth?”

She takes me to the library right across the hall. She stops in front of that ridiculous fireplace and reaches for the sconce on one side. She tries to turn it, but it doesn’t budge. I realize what she’s doing and start helping. The mantel is an ornately carved monstrosity, full of Gothic gargoyles and . . . weirdly, a willow tree. I plant my palm on the panel with the willow tree and press. Voilà! The entire fireplace slides open.

Mel steps aside and gestures to me. “‘One of them leads to the castle at the center of the labyrinth.’”

I make it three steps into the hallway when I realize Mel is right behind me.

I turn around to see her standing there, watching me with her head tilted, looking at me in that familiar birdlike way.

“Wait a second. You’re not coming with me.” She just looks at me and I feel a sense of calm and purpose, but I fight against it. “No. It’s too dangerous for you. You should stay here. You’ll be safe.”

She shakes her head and points toward the door and I know that sense of calm is so strong it must be deliberate. It’s her way of reminding me she’s an
abductura
, too. She has her own job to do and she can’t do it from the safety of the vault. Even though Mel doesn’t like hugs, I launch myself at her and hold her tight. And even though Mel doesn’t like hugs, she holds me tighter.

When I pull away I look her in the eye. And she meets my gaze. “Okay, but we stay together. At all times, no matter what.”

She nods, smiling.

*  *

It feels like it takes forever to get through the labyrinth and I’m incredibly thankful for the yellow security lights mounted on the walls every fifteen or so feet. Eventually, we reach a door that opens right into the willow-tree lobby.

I creep to the front windows and peek out. Though the parking lot is full of hundreds of soldier types, none of them are looking at this building. We could walk right out in the crowd and probably no one would notice for a while. But we’d never get close enough to Sabrina without being disarmed, and firing a crossbow through a crowd is a good way to shoot a lot of people you don’t mean to hit, but not the person you need to kill.

We find the stairwell and head up to the roof. On the roof, six stories up, the wind is fierce, loud, and bitingly cold, but the view is perfect. I set the duffel and the crossbow at my feet and get out the binoculars.

When I see it, when I actually see it, despair fills me. Sabrina’s tent is so far away.

I drop the binoculars and sink to my knees, scrubbing my hands over my face. “It’s an impossible shot. I can’t make that. No one could make that.”

Then I feel Mel’s hand on mine and her will in my brain. I drop my hands and look at her. I draw in deep breaths to fight the panic, which threatens to overwhelm me, despite what she’s doing to help.

“Okay,” I say finally. “I can’t make that shot. But maybe we can together.” Maybe if she keeps me steady and keeps me calm. Maybe. And maybe is the best we can do.

Working side by side, we pull out the arrows. I carefully break the vials open onto the gauze coverings, dribbling the serum slowly until it soaks into the cloth. I kneel by the edge of the roof, bracing my elbows on the half wall that surrounds the roof. Then I load one of the arrows and raise the binoculars. Mel is beside me and I purposely match my breathing to hers. We have the perfect shot. Now, if Sabrina will just leave the damn tent.