7

REVELATION 21:8

And the abominable . . . shall have their part in
the second death.

~ * ~

"You seem very pleased with yourself tonight, Howard. Things went well today, yes?" Anyelet's eyes, so deep and black, glittered across the candlelit expanse of the main lobby.

Howard started and realized that they were all watching him—the Mistress, Rita, Vic, even that creepy little Gregory. Now there was a type, all right, just like those finicky little bastards at his old job. They were jealous, he knew—after all, he had the best of both light and dark worlds, and they were forever trapped in darkness. Well, you make your choices.

"Yes." He smiled at Anyelet and nodded his pudgy head for emphasis. "They did." He could feel Vic's gaze boring into him, trying to read his thoughts, and Howard was careful not to meet the former bodybuilder's eyes or even look in his direction. They could read minds; he realized that now though in the past he'd never been quite sure. But after what he'd seen Anyelet do to the old man last night—he'd been hiding just around the corner—Howard finally believed.

"How many women did you beat and rape today, Howard?" Rita jeered. Coming from her, his name seemed like a dirty word and Howard flinched.

"I didn't beat anyone," he responded smoothly, raising his voice to be sure that Vic could hear him clearly. “I had . . . relations with three of them." Not bad for someone of his immense weight and as out of shape, too. Did vampires have sex? He didn't think so—the act would be impossible for a male since they had no blood to maintain an erection. Howard barely kept his snigger to himself. Good ol’ American Red: he had it, they didn't. Besides, he'd heard about bodybuilders and steroids and what that shit did to a man’s sex drive and performance. That meant Vic had two strikes against him—no wonder the big vampire hated him. Howard almost felt sorry for the guy.

But not quite.

Howard had been saving his next statement for a few days, treasuring it like a special piece of candy. "I think," he said, unable to mask the pride he felt, "that another woman might be pregnant. One of the younger ones." Howard thought he heard a growl come from deep in Vic's chest and his head jerked toward the larger man in alarm. The odd sound was drowned out by Rita’s harsh voice.

"It's easier when they're babies, isn't it?" Rita spat. "What a pig you are, Howard!"

"What difference does it make to you?" he challenged. "You only need them for food."

Rita opened her mouth but Anyelet cut her off. "That will be enough." There was a dangerous hint of impatience in her tone. "Howard is serving a useful purpose. Aren’t you?" She looked his way.

Rita stared at the Mistress in disbelief. "But just last night you said . . ." The tall vampire lapsed into silence at Anyelet's warning glance and Howard's eyes narrowed. "Last night was a different time," Anyelet murmured. She raised her voice and spoke to Howard. "You say another child will be born? When?"

"It's too early to tell," Howard admitted. "But I'm positive the girl has missed her cycle for at least two months."

"It's probably just stress," suggested Gregory. "I understand that happens sometimes."

"It is not!" Howard protested hotly. "She's as healthy as any of them, and she hasn't been giving me any trouble."

"Which is another way of saying you haven't found an excuse to slap her around," muttered Rita.

“But you're sure she's pregnant?" Anyelet interrupted.

Howard nodded, straining to conceal the sudden nervous flutter in his stomach. He hated putting himself on the line like this—what if that stupid, nerdy Gregory was right? What if the girl was only screwed up, some kind of mysterious female infection or something? Jesus. Rita's words flashed painfully into his mind, like sticking your face onto the glass of a Xerox machine and pressing the COPY button with your eyes still open.

"Good job, then," Anyelet continued. "The ideal situation would be to have all the females impregnated as much as possible and feed only from the males."

"The ideal situation would be if there was food for the taking everywhere, like there used to be," Rita said sullenly.

Howard considered offering his own opinion about the future, then wisely decided to wait when Gregory spoke. "True," the boyish vampire agreed, "but impossible. We would inevitably end up in the same position—"

"I know that, you idiot!" Rita hissed.

Gregory threw her an irritated glance. "Well, you seem to need reminding." The onetime accountant's smile was smug, and Howard imagined computer drives churning in the icy recesses of Gregory's brain. "The ones like you ruined it for all of us, you know."

Anyelet's eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

"Not you," the thin vampire amended quickly. "That's not what I meant at all." He shrugged and brushed at his sweatshirt fussily. "I mean the . . . I suppose a good word would be gluttons." He nodded at Rita, who wore an expression of incredulous rage. "The ones like her who took more than they needed and hunted just for fun, depleting everything. That's why we're in such poor shape."

"Who the fuck appointed you judge?" Rita shrieked, leaping to her feet. "You annoying little cockroach! I could stomp you into the floor right now—"

"Vic," Anyelet said so softly that only she, Vic, and Howard heard the world. Howard cautiously edged away.

Gregory laughed, unperturbed by Rita's threats. “Hardly, dear. You're more mouth than muscle." The air between the two crackled. Go on! Howard cheered silently. If Gregory tore the bitch's head off, the dweeby CPA would solve Howard's worst problem!

Rita sprang like a deadly jungle cat, black and sleek and twice as fast as the feeling of scalding water on bare skin. Gregory rose to meet her, either in response or anticipation, his own movement rivaling the astounding killing strikes of the rattlesnakes on the old PBS nature broadcasts. Howard's stunned gaze couldn't even follow the blur as the two bodies hurtled toward each other.

Incredibly, Vic was there, stepping between them before flesh met flesh and collided to a point of no return. One immense forearm wrapped around Rita's shoulders and simply plucked her from midair; when Gregory would have attacked the imprisoned woman, Vic's fist connected solidly with his chest and knocked the smaller vampire back a good twenty feet. Howard's sweat-slimed fingers clenched in disappointment inside his pockets when Vic made no move to further punish the combatants, and he shivered and turned away; it was colder tonight than yesterday and he found it disconcerting to watch these horrific creatures battle without the slightest puff of steamy breath. They never seemed to notice the temperature. "I think I'll go check on the prisoners," he said to no one in particular. There was nothing more to see here anyway.

"Yeah," Rita said nastily. "Keep them warm." She made an angry strangling sound as Vic tightened his hold.

Anyelet finally spoke from the shadows. "Yes, Howard," she said in a liquid voice. Her quiet rage made him tremble. "That's a very good idea. I have things to which I must . . . attend."

Rita and Gregory looked suddenly sick, and Howard barely hid a grin as he left the lobby and plodded up to the third floor. Let the Mistress give that vicious bitch something to think about other than antagonizing him. In the meantime, he'd spent a good part of today cautiously searching for Rita's and Vic's sleeping places, and he planned to continue his hunt tomorrow.

Upstairs it was cellar-dark and the oil lamps he'd lit at dusk were nearly empty. It was cold, too, miserably so, and if he didn't drag out more blankets, most of these shit-for-brains would end up with hypothermia. If that happened, they'd probably die and all his progress would be undone; above all he had to look out for the woman and the teenager—he hoped—who were pregnant. Already he could hear moans and teeth chattering—a sound that pissed him off no end—from several of the lightless doorways.

Evening chores irritated him, though he realized tonight was his own fault for ignoring his charges most of the afternoon. He'd planned to be in his sleeping bag by now, warm, full, and in dreamland. All that good—good, hell, he'd been great!—sex today had exhausted him and he'd been too worried last night to sleep well. His eyes had opened at dawn, and with the sun slowly brightening the room he'd had the first inkling that had sent him looking for the hidden rooms where his two enemies spent their daytime hours in helpless slumber.

If he found them, it would be an easy task to kill them both.