The Living Night: Box Set Page 5

  "What do you mean?” Ruegger said.

  "This is only our first visit to you. Before we can see you again, though, we've got a grand opening to attend in Europe at the Castle."

  "You're working for Roche Sarnova?"

  "We never limit our fun to one possibility,” Jagoda said.

  "Is that what destroying Barrow was?" Danielle said. "Fun?"

  He smiled, revealing his large and seemingly malformed teeth. "That was very entertaining—our coming-out party, you could say. It's been some time since we'd access to that much ... skin. And I think we did some good work there, too, although I doubt the police photographers will give it the treatment it deserves." He seemed absorbed in thought for a moment. “Today we won't kill you. But we will rape you both, oh yes." He started to advance.

  Danielle looked around desperately.

  Just then, sounds of alarm issued from the south.

  “Seems Ludwig and the rest of the cavalry are on their way,” Jagoda said, disappointed.

  “We’ve accomplished what we intended,” Junger said, returning.

  "Next time, then."

  "Next time," Jagoda agreed, and flicked away his cigarette.

  They jumped to all fours, changing from men to the shape of great wolves in less than a second and running off into the forest just as the first sounds of rifle fire erupted behind them.

  Ruegger dragged himself over toward Danielle, who felt herself dying. She’d lost too much blood. Cradling her in his lap, he bent his head to kiss her bloody mouth. She opened her eyes and tried to smile.

  Ruegger’s strength gave out, and he toppled face-first into the snow. After a moment, darkness filled Danielle’s vision, and she fell back into it, too.

  * * *

  Ludwig, rifle gripped smartly, fired off his last shot at the retreating demons, then turned to the other snipers that lined this brittle ridge of snow.

  “Let’s go.”

  Covered by more snipers, his crew moved swiftly down the ridge toward the bloody snow where once-beautiful wolves littered the scene, and for a second only Ludwig allowed himself to lament their loss, then he knelt next to Ruegger and examined him. Maleasoel, kneeling over Danielle, looked at him questioningly.

  "Alive, thank God," said Ludwig. "How's she?"

  Maleasoel shook her head. "Bad.”

  "Let's get them out of here, sir," he heard one of the others say. “They could come back.”

  Ludwig rose to stare in the direction in which the Balaklava had vanished. His gaze lingered. He didn't know when, or how, but he knew beyond question that he'd have hell to pay. And hell was not forgiving.

  * * *

  The first thing Danielle wanted when she woke up was a cigarette. A nice, fat, hand-rolled one, made out of that wonderful tobacco Ludwig kept. She lay sprawled in the absurdly large four-poster bed in her room on the top floor of Ludwig's villa. The view was grand, if only she had the energy to go to the window to see it. At least she still smelled and felt clean from all the doctoring and bathing she'd been treated to.

  When he heard her request, Ruegger gladly retrieved the tobacco for her and rolled the cigarette himself. He'd been up and about not more than an hour after the attack, as his age enhanced his recuperative abilities, and he'd doted on her constantly.

  "Better than cloves," she said softly, once he lit it for her.

  "How do you feel?"

  "Great.” She reached for his hand. "You're cold, baby. Come here."

  He obeyed. "We've been out searching for them—Junger and Jagoda. Unfortunately, the snow's erased what tracks there were. During the search, though, we came across something else—a mass grave of shades.”

  “Damn.”

  “It explains all the disappearances lately."

  "You’re sure it’s the work of the Balaklava?"

  "No, that's the worst part. The bodies were intact and drained of blood, as only a kavasari could do."

  "What's a kavasari?"

  A dark light settled in his eyes, and when he answered, his voice was bitter: "A type of immortal that feeds only off of other shades—a vampire's vampire. They're the strongest race of known immortal, and they're very rare."

  “You’re kidding me. There’s something that can feed on us?” When he nodded, she said, “Holy shit. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “They’re very rare, and I didn’t want to worry you.”

  There was something in his face as he said it, though, that made her think there was more to it than that. She decided not to press him. He would tell her when he wanted to.

  "Why would one be hanging around Liberty?” She paused. “Well, the high concentration of shades here, I guess. A perfect feeding ground. But you've gotta admit, what with all the other strange things going on here, it makes you wonder. What did Ludwig say about it?"

  "Nothing, really."

  "Damn, but he is acting suspicious. What do you think? You know more about the kavasari than I do."

  "They ...” He passed a hand across his face. “One killed someone I loved very much, a long time ago. But as to their role in the greater picture, I haven't a clue. Could Junger and Jagoda be involved with a kavasari? I don’t know."

  “The most powerful immortal involved with two of the second most powerful? God help us.”

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  She breathed in a long draught of smoke. Softly, she said, “Who did you lose?”

  He looked at her. “I … don’t want to talk about it.”

  She waited a beat, then nodded. "Well, I've been doing some thinking. Jagoda said something about more than one possibility, and he said that in connection with the subject of his employment. I think maybe the Balaklava are working for at least two employers. Or at least two different people approached them."

  "I've had similar thoughts. It seems likely that one of those employers was the same one who hired Jarvick. But Junger and Jagoda had something else going, perhaps a deal from this second person, and it's that that they carried through today, neglecting the contract from the first one, the one who hired Jarvick. That one wanted us dead and the Balaklava didn't. If that's true, then someone wants us six feet under and someone wants us ... harassed, or something. Whatever the Balaklava intended to do."

  She suppressed a shudder. "Maybe to put pressure on Ludwig."

  "Maybe. That leads back to the question of the dissidents."

  "Not necessarily. Maybe there's more than one entity that wants to pressure Ludwig. Maybe for different reasons."

  "Maybe one wants him to continue leading Liberty and the other wants him to step down. And both are using the same method—threatening those Ludwig’s close to."

  "It explains why he's been acting so weird,” she said.

  Ruegger lit a cigarette. “The Balaklava mentioned Roche Sarnova. It’s possible both they and Jarvick were hired by the Castle.”

  “Jarvick didn’t seem as if he was getting paid enough. The Castle could have paid him whatever he wanted.”

  “Unless they wanted him to bargain with us instead of kill us.”

  “That’s a reach. Anyway, so where does the kavasari fit in? And what’s with the Scouring? And the War?”

  “Well—”

  Someone knocked on the door. At Ruegger’s invitation, one of Ludwig's many servants entered. "Master Ludwig is having dinner prepared. If you're feeling well enough to attend, he'll expect you on his private terrace in half an hour."

  Danielle smiled. "We'll be there. Count on it.” To Ruegger, she whispered, “Now we’ll get some damned answers.”

  Chapter 4

  Ludwig and Maleasoel waited at a circular glass-topped table on his enclosed veranda. He had a goblet of red wine to his lips and a hunk of beef Wellington on his plate. Bloody, of course. Maleasoel, the dark angel, with black hair, subtle fangs, and graceful wings tucked behind her, looked disconcerted, possibly at something Ludwig had just said, as Ruegger and Danielle entered the room.

  Beaming, L
udwig gestured toward facing chairs, which some helpful attendants held for them. A well-dressed young shade approached and placed generous portions of beef Wellington in front of the vampires, and Danielle had to smile at his unconscious hypocrisy; for a man devoted to stamping out class consciousness, Ludwig certainly employed enough servants and ate enough fine food.

  "Sorry we didn't wait for you to start," said Ludwig.

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” Ruegger said, and dug in.

  "Fabulous, isn't it?"

  "Sure is,” Danielle said. Then, to Maleasoel: "Thanks for following us today."

  "Ludwig's idea. I was supposed to keep an eye on you and let him know when I saw the Balaklava."

  Ruegger didn’t waste time. "What the hell happened this morning?"

  Smooth, Danielle thought.

  Ludwig pursed his lips and glanced at his wife. "It was a trap. Allow me to explain.”

  “Please do,” said Danielle.

  After a few false starts, he began: “The dissidents are trying to blackmail me into staying here at the compound as Liberty's leader, but I'm tired of this excuse for megalomania and want to tear it down. Unfortunately, that's not really much of an alternative, because the dissident faction is large and would prevent me from doing so. They want me to stay on because they know that if I stepped down at least half the population would leave with me. So the dissidents want me to remain, but they want me to advance my original plan, to start taking over the world. They feel Barrow would be the first logical target, just to hone their skills. I said no. Under the leadership of a man named Captain Raulf D’Aguila, the dissidents killed a close friend of mine. Gleason.”

  “You can’t prove it was Raulf,” Maleasoel said.

  Ludwig and his wife exchanged a glance. Malie’s cheeks flushed and she stared down at the table as if to look up from it would make her sick.

  “Why’d they kill Gleason?” Danielle said.

  After a ragged breath, Ludwig said, “To prove they were serious. Then, when I still made no advancements, they attacked Malie and blew up a building—killing several loyalists, I might add. Next we got wind that they’d hired the Balaklava—so we set a trap for them this morning. I'm very sorry that I had to use you as bait, my friends, but you understand that if I followed the orders of the dissidents I would—God!—be forced to enslave humanity! Unfortunately the Balaklava escaped." He raised his goblet and toasted, "To my courageous friends, and to better times."

  They drank. Danielle drained her glass and poured herself some more, then turned to Ludwig. "So you're saying that the death-squad that attacked us in the desert was hired by the dissidents in order to put pressure on you.”

  "Maybe. I don’t know much about the assassins in the desert, to be honest. I just knew there was a contract out on you, and I assumed it originated here."

  "Why wouldn't the dissidents simply wait until we arrived? Killing us here would've been more affecting to you. And once we were here why would they bother to confuse the issue by hiring the Balaklava?"

  Ludwig tugged on his lips. "I suppose that by hiring Junger and Jagoda they were trying to make the point that they were connected with powerful elements—yet another way of threatening me. As for why they sent someone to kill you in the desert—well, I have reason to believe that the dissidents themselves are divided into at least two factions: the more conservative and the more extreme. I suppose the more extreme wanted you killed in a hurry so as to make their point before the winter solstice, by which time north Alaska's three-month night is officially halfway over. They wanted me to seize Barrow while we still had time to expand our operations. If we could take the town and keep it secret, we could refine our techniques.”

  “Use the people of Barrow as guinea pigs,” Danielle said. “Fucking great, Lud. I’m so glad I know you.”

  “When the days get longer—and most of us must hide during that time—the task of organizing a force that could take over the world would be more difficult. That’s why we founded Liberty where we did, so that we would have this extended darkness. In the summers, as you probably know, we go to Antarctica.” He took a breath. “So now would you both please forgive me for being a self-centered jackass and putting you in peril?"

  “Not by a long shot,” Danielle said.

  He nodded sadly. “What else can I tell you?”

  “The Castle. Roche Sarnova. We have reason to believe the Dark Lord is mixed up in all this.”

  “Why would Blackie care?” The Dark Lord was the traditional ruler of the supernatural world, Danielle knew, and although things had changed since the discovery of the New World he still retained great power.

  “Because Liberty’s gotten strong," Ruegger said. "He’d want it crushed. It’s the only army that poses a threat to him. Except for the one that’s warring with him, of course. Which would make it even more important to stamp out Liberty; he’s got enough troubles without worrying about you, Ludwig.”

  “Really, I know nothing about it,” Ludwig said.

  Even Danielle could tell that he was lying. “So what of this mysterious visitor we’ve heard about?”

  "What visitor?" Ludwig said it a little too quickly. Seeming to realize his error, he immediately added, "I receive visitors all the time—some wish me to keep their identities secret. It's no big deal, just a symptom of being a movement's leader, I guess.”

  “And the Scouring?” Ruegger pushed. “The War?”

  “I know nothing about either.”

  Danielle could sense Ruegger’s blood rise, could feel that old dark streak blossom within him. He would want to lash out and beat Ludwig to a bloody pulp until he spilled the truth. But Ludwig was Ruegger’s oldest, dearest friend, and with visible effort he held himself back.

  “So,” Ludwig said brightly, “how about a game of pool after dinner?"

  "You still owe me five hundred bucks from last time," Danielle said. She shot a look at Ruegger, and he nodded. They would play along, for now.

  * * *

  The dinner continued on a more pleasant note, but Ruegger couldn’t help picturing their confrontation with Junger and Jagoda. Things had almost gone very, very bad. What are you hiding, Ludwig?

  When dinner ended, they moved to the pool room and the couples paired up. Ludwig opened with his own special cue and declared stripes. Ruegger played, mentally counseling himself to be patient. From time to time he looked out the enormous windows that faced out onto another terrace, this one running the length of the house on this side. In the distance, clouds gathered.

  Maleasoel, Ludwig's partner, gripped her cue delicately and leaned over the table. The dark flesh of her wings quivered slightly, as a muscle clenched and unclenched there—a nervous habit of hers. She missed the shot.

  Danielle smiled at Ruegger as he passed her his cue.

  She sunk three balls and scratched on the fourth. In a normal game, of course, immortals would have no trouble winning because of their sharper reflexes and more able strength, but tables could be custom-made for shades, as this was. Its balls and cues were heavier—no human could play with them—lending the game a proportionate degree of difficulty. The use of telekinesis was considered poor form.

  The game progressed, Danielle eventually sinking the eight ball with a triumphant yell, but as they began setting up the next game, Maleasoel smiled politely. "You'll have to play this one without me, guys. I think I'll get some fresh air." She cracked a sliding glass door and walked out onto the terrace, blue light falling about her and filtering through the tops of her wings. Before she slid the door closed, a gust of cold air briefly filled the room.

  Ruegger also declined to play, leaning against a wall and watching Ludwig and Danielle go at it. He was vaguely amused by some of the other tables in the room, namely a snooker and a billiards table. He thought it odd that Ludwig would spend so much money on games he couldn't even play. Most shades had large stashes of money and properties they'd taken off their victims, but not all were ... as materialist
ic as Ludwig was, as strange as that sounded.

  Leaving the players to their own devices, Ruegger joined Maleasoel on the terrace. The frigid air gusted forcefully, and it felt wonderful to his flushed skin.

  “Invigorating,” he said, then noticed, with some surprise, that Malie was crying. The wind played among the dark downy hair on her wings and blew her tears in a gentle stream downward toward the arching curve of her jaw.

  He laid a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off. With an apologetic smile, she turned to watch the rolling clouds and the lightning that flashed down.

  "I love storms," she said.

  "Especially here. The Northern Lights …"

  "Beautiful, aren't they?"

  "Very." He leaned out over the railing to peer into the dark tangle of the forest. Waited.

  "Ludwig—" she started.

  "What about him?"

  "He ... we ... never meant for you to get hurt."

  "I know."

  Her forehead furrowed. "It wasn't the dissidents that hired Junger and Jagoda, but I'm sure you've probably guessed that."

  “Who did?”

  “I don’t know. Truly. Ludwig does, though. And he knows more about the kavasari than he’s saying.” She turned to him. "This may be the last time I see you, at least for some time. Things will be different from now on."

  "How?"

  She placed the back of her hand to her nose and shook her head. Suddenly, she smiled. "I love to fly before the storm. Ludwig is always afraid I'll get struck by lightning or something, but it's so beautiful up there. Like a dream."

  She began to undress, folding her blouse and skirt into a neat wad and handing them to Ruegger for safe-keeping. He couldn’t help but notice that she had a very nice figure.

  Her wings fanned out in anticipation. With sublime gracefulness, she mounted the railing and leapt into the abyss. Ruegger feared for a moment she wouldn't open her wings in time, but they fanned out gloriously and caught her above the frozen treetops, and the wind carried her away on the tails of the storm.