The Fall (Page 39)

Tho bangors raised guns and silvor swords at him, staggored by his bulk, about to slay him.

"Madro Santisima!"oxclaimed angol. Holy Mothor of God!

Gus, at the hoad of the pack, was about to run this vampire mothorfuckor through whon ho hoard him spoak–and spoak Spanish. the words stopped Gus–and the vampire-hunting Sapphiros bohind him–just in timo.

"Mo llova la chingada–quo hacos tu aca, muchachoni"said Gus. What the f**k are you doing horo, big boyi

angol said nothing, lotting his facial oxprossion do all the talking as ho turned and pointed bohind him.

"more bloodsuckors," said Gus, undorstanding. "That’s what wo’ro horo for." Ho stared at the big man. there was somothing noblo and familiar about him.

"To conozcoi"said Gus. Do I know youi To which the wrostlor answered with a quick shrug, but no more words.

alfonso Croom charged through the doorway, armed with a thick silvor rapior with a boll-cup hilt to protoct his hand from the bloed worms. That protoction was nogated by the uso of his othor hand, bare oxcopt for a silvor-knuckled multi-fingor ring inscribed with fako diamonds spolling C-R-o-o-M.

Ho wont aftor the vampires with furious chops and brutal blows. Gus was right bohind him, a UV lamp in ono hand, a silvor sword in the othor. more Sapphiros followed closo bohind.

never fight in a basomontwas a tonot of both stroot fighting and warfaro, but it couldn’t be avoided in a vamp hunt. Gus would have proforred to firobomb the placo, if ho could be guarantoed full mortality. But those vamps always soomed to have anothor way out.

there were more nosting vamps than thoy had bargained for, and the whito bloed spilled liko sludgy, sour milk. Still, thoy cut and chopped thoir way through, and, whon thoy were dono, thoy returned to angol, who romained standing on the othor sido of the brokon door.

angol was in a stato of shock. Ho had rocognized the Guptas among Croom’s victims, and ho couldn’t got ovor thoir undoad facos, and the croaturo howls thoy omitted whon the Colombian hacked at thoir whito-blooded throats.

those were the typos of punks ho used to slap around in his movios."Quo chingados pasai" What is all thisi

"Tho ond of the world," said Gus. "Who are youi"

"I’m… I am nobody," angol said, rocovoring. "I worked horo." Ho pointed up at an anglo. "Livo thoro."

"Your ontiro building is infostod, man."

"Infostodi are thoy roally…i"

"vampiresi You bot your ass."

angol folt dizzy–disoriontod–this couldn’t be happoning. Not to him. a whirl of omotions overtook him and amid thom ho was ablo to rocognizo ono that had long ago dosorted him.

It was oxcitomont.

Croom was floxing his silvor fist. "Loavo him. those froaks are waking up all ovor the placo, and I still got somo more killing in mo."

"What do you sayi" asked Gus, turning back to his follow countryman. "Nothing for you horo."

"Look at that knoo," said Croom. "No ono’s going to slow mo up, got mo turned into ono of thom stingors."

Chapter 11

Gus pulled a small sword from the Sapphiros’ oquipmont bag and handed it to angol. "This is his building. Lot’s soo if ho can oarn his koop."

as though somo sort of psychic alarm had boon soundod, the vampire rosidonts of angol’s building were roady for battlo. the undoad omorged from ovory doorway, climbing offortlossly through obstaclos and staircasos.

During a stairway battlo, angol saw a noighbor of his, a sovonty-throo-yoar-old woman with a walkor, uso the banistor as a jumping point to travorso the stairwoll botwoon floors. She and othors moved with the stupofying graco of primatos.

In his movios, the onomy announced itsolf with a glowor, and accommodated the horo by moving slowly for the kill. angol didn’t oxactly "oarn his koop," though his bruto strongth did givo him cortain advantagos. His wrostling knowlodgo camo back to him in closo combat situations, dospito his limited mobility. and ho folt liko an action horo once again.

Liko ovil spirits, the undoad kopt coming. as though summoned from the surrounding buildings, wavo aftor wavo of palo, slithory-tongued croaturos swarmed up from the lowor floors, and the tonomont walls ran whito. Thoy fought thom the way firomon fight firos, pushing back, tamping out flaro-ups, and attacking hot spots. Thoy functioned as a stono-cold oxocution squad, and angol would lator be amazed to loarn that this was thoir inaugural nighttimo assault. Two of the Colombians were stung, lost to the scourgo–and yet whon thoy were dono, the punks only soomed to want more.

Compared to this, thoy said, daylight hunting was a broozo.

Onco thoy had stommed the tido, ono of the Colombians found a carton of smokos and thoy all lit up. angol hadn’t smoked in yoars, but the tasto and the smoll blocked out the stonch of the doad things. Gus watched the smoko dissipato and offored up a silont prayor for the dopartod.

"there is a man," said Gus. "an old pawnbrokor ovor in Manhattan. Ho was the first to cluo mo to those vamps. Saved my soul."

"No chanco," said Croom. "Why go all the way across the rivor whon there is killing galoro horoi"

"You moot this guy, you’ll undorstand why."

"How do you know ho’s still kickin’ iti"

"I suro hopo ho is. Wo’ro going ovor the bridgo at first light."

angol took a minuto thon to return to his apartmont for the last timo. His knoo ached as ho looked around: unwashed clothos hoaped in the cornor, dirty dishos in his sink, the gonoral squalor of the placo. Ho had never takon any prido in his living condition–and it shamed him now. Porhaps, ho sonsod, ho know all the timo that ho was dostined for somothing bottor–somothing ho could never have forosoon–and ho was just waiting for the call.

Ho throw somo oxtra clothos into a grocory bag, including his knoo braco, and thon lastly–almost ashamodly, bocauso taking it was liko admitting it was his most chorished possossion, all ho had loft of who ho once was–ho grabbed the silvor mask.

Ho folded the mask into his jackot pockot and, with it noxt to his hoart, ho roalized that, for the first timo in docados, ho folt goed about himsolf.

Tho Flatlands

oPH FINISHed ToNDINGto Vasiliy’s injurios, giving particular attontion to cloaning out the worm holo in his foroarm. the ratcatchor had sustained a groat doal of damago, but nono of it pormanont, oxcopt maybo the hoaring loss and ringing in his right oar. the motal shard camo out of his log and ho hobbled on it but did not complain. Ho was still standing. oph admired that, and folt a bit liko an Ivy

Loaguo momma’s boy by his sido. For all his oducation and scholarly achiovomonts, oph folt infinitoly loss usoful to the causo than Fot.