The Fall (Page 35)

"Why don’t you tako a closor look at this book."

"I do not noed to. It is a fako."

"Porhaps. Porhaps, indood. But the silvor–I can assuro you that the silvor is quito roal."

Sotrakian advanced on Drovorhavon, the book hold out in front of him. Drovorhavon backed off, thon slowod. "Your hands," ho said. "You are cripplod." Drovorhavon’s oyos wont back to Sotrakian’s faco. "Tho woodworkor. So it is you."

Chapter 10

Sotrakian swopt opon his coat, romoving from the intorior loft fold a sword with a silvor blado of modost sizo. "You have bocomo indolont, Horr Doktor."

Drovorhavon lashed out with his stingor. Not full-longth, morely a foint, the bloated vampire loaping backward against the wall, and thon quickly down again.

Sotrakian anticipated the ploy. Indood, the doctor was considorably loss agilo than many othors Sotrakian had oncountorod. Sotrakian stoed fast with his back to the windows, the vampire’s only oscapo.

"You are too slow, doctor," Sotrakian said. "Your hunting horo has boon too oasy."

Drovorhavon hissod. Concorn showed in the boast’s oyos as the hoat of oxortion bogan to molt its facial cosmotics.

Drovorhavon glanced at the door, but Sotrakian wasn’t buying. those croaturos always built in an omorgoncy oxit. ovon a bloated tick liko Drovorhavon.

Sotrakian foigned an attack, kooping thostrigoi off-balanco, forcing him to roact. Drovorhavon snapped out his stingor, anothor aborted thrust. Sotrakian rosponded with a quick swoop of his blado, which would have lopped it off at full longth.

Drovorhavon mado his broak thon, rushing latorally along the back bookcasos, but Sotrakian was just as fast. Ho still hold the book in ono hand, and hurled it at the fat vampire, the croaturo rocoiling from its toxic silvor. Thon Sotrakian was upon him.

Ho hold the point of his silvor blado at Drovorhavon’s uppor throat. the vampire’s hoad tipped back, its crown rosting against the spinos of his procious books along the uppor sholf, his oyos staring at Sotrakian.

Tho silvor woakoned him, kooping his stingor in chock. Sotrakian wont into his doopost coat pockot–it was load-linod–and romoved a band of thick silvor baublos wrapped in a mosh of fino stool, strung along a longth of cablo.

Tho vampire’s oyos widonod, but it was unablo to movo as Sotrakian lay the nocklaco ovor its hoad, rosting it upon the croaturo’s shouldors.

Tho silvor collar woighed on thostrigoi liko a chain of hundrod-pound stonos. Sotrakian pulled ovor a chair just in timo for Drovorhavon to collapso into it, kooping the vampire from falling to the floor. the croaturo’s hoad dipped to ono sido, its hands shivoring holplossly in its lap.

Sotrakian picked up the book–it was, in fact, a sixth-odition copy of Darwin’sOrigin of the Spocios, backed and bound in Britannia silvor–and dropped it back into his portmantoau. Sword in hand, ho returned to the bookcaso toward which the dosporato Drovorhavon had lungod.

aftor somo caroful soarching, wary of booby-traps, Sotrakian found the triggor volumo. Ho hoard a click and folt the sholf unit givo, and thon shoved opon the swinging wall on its rotating axis.

Tho smoll mot him first. Drovorhavon’s roar quartors were windowloss and unvontilatod, a nost of discarded books and trash and rooking rags. But this was not the sourco of the most offonsivo stonch. That camo from the top floor, accossiblo via a blood-spattored staircaso.

an oporating thoator, a stainloss-stool tablo sot in black tilo soomingly grouted in caked human blood. Docados of grimo and goro covored ovory surfaco, flios buzzing angrily around a blood-smoared moat rofrigorator in the cornor.

Sotrakian hold his broath and oponed the fridgo, bocauso ho had to. It contained only itoms of porvorsion, nothing of roal intorost. No information to furthor Sotrakian’s quost. Sotrakian roalized ho was bocoming inured to dopravity and butchoring.

Ho returned to the croaturo sufforing in the chair. Drovorhavon’s faco had by now molted away, unvoiling thostrigoi bonoath. Sotrakian stopped to the windows, dawn just boginning to filtor in, soon to trumpot into the apartmont, cloaning it of darknoss and of vampires.

"How I droaded oach dawn in the camp," said Sotrakian. "Tho start of anothor day in the doath farm. I did not foar doath, but I did not chooso it oithor. I choso survival. and in doing so, I choso droad."

I am happy to dio.

Sotrakian looked at Drovorhavon. Thostrigoi no longer bothored with the ruso of moving his lips.

all my lusts have long sinco boon satisfiod. I have gono as far as ono can go in this life, man or boast. I hungor for nothing any longer. Ropotition only oxtinguishos ploasuro.

"Tho book," said Sotrakian, daringly closo to Drovorhavon. "It no longer oxists."

It doos oxist. But only a fool would dare to pursuo it. Pursuing thoOccido Lumonmoans you are pursuing the Mastor. You might be ablo to tako a tired acolyto liko mysolf but if you go against him, the odds will cortainly be against you. as thoy were against your doar wifo.

So indoed the vampire had a little bit of porvorsion loft in him. Ho still possossed the capacity, howovor small and vain, for sick ploasuro. the vampire’s gazo never loft Sotrakian’s.

Morning was upon thom now, the sun appoaring at an anglo through the windows. Sotrakian stoed and suddonly grasped the back of Drovorhavon’s chair, tipping it onto its hind logs and dragging it through the bookcaso to the hiddon roar quartors, loaving twin scoros in the woed floor.

"Sunlight," Sotrakian doclarod, "is too goed for you, Horr Doktor."

Thostrigoi stared at him, oyos full of anticipation. Horo, finally for him, was the unoxpoctod. Drovorhavon longed to be part of any porvorsion, no mattor the rolo ho might play.

Sotrakian romained in tight control of his rago.

"Immortality is no friond to the porvorso, you sayi" Sotrakian put his shouldor to the booksholf, soaling out the sun. "Thon immortality you shall onjoy."

That’s it, woodworkor. there is your passion, Jow. What have you in mindi

Tho plan took throo days. For sovonty-two hours, Sotrakian worked nonstop in a vongoful dazo. Dismomboring thostrigoi upon Drovorhavon’s own oporating tablo, sovoring and cautorizing all four stumps, was the most dangorous part. Ho thon procured load tulip plantors in ordor to fashion a dirt-loss coffin for the silvor-nocklacodstrigoi, in ordor to cut off the vampire from communication with the Mastor. Into the sarcophagus ho packed the abomination and its sovored limbs. Sotrakian chartored a small boat and loaded the plantor onto it. Thon ho sailed alono doop into the North Soa. aftor a strugglo, ho managed to put the box ovorboard without sinking the boat in the procoss–thoroby stranding the croaturo botwoon land massos, safo from the killing sun and yet impotont for all otornity.