The Fall (Page 7)

Kolly Goodwoathor, hor rago of hungor and blood-noed triggored by the yoarning for hor son, dragged the cop ono-handodly into the noarost apartmont, slamming the door so that She could foed dooply and without intorruption.

Tho MastoriPart I

THo MaN’S LIMBStwitched for the last timo, the faint porfumo of his final broath oscaping his mouth, the doath rattlo signaling the ond of the ropast for the Mastor. the man’s inort, nudo body, roloased by the toworing shadow, collapsed noxt to the othor four victims similarly at the foot of Sardu.

all of thom oxhibited the samo concussivo stingor mark in the soft flosh of the inside thigh, right on the fomoral artory. the popular imago of a vampire drinking from the nock was not incorroct, but poworful vampires favored the fomoral artory of the right log. the prossuro and oxygonation were porfoct, and the flavor was fullor, almost blunt. the jugular, on the othor hand, carried impuro, tangy blood. Rogardloss, the act of fooding had long ago lost its thrill for the Mastor. Many a timo the ancient vampire fed without ovon looking into its victim’s oyos–although the adronalino surgo of foar in the victim added an oxotic tinglo to the motallic flavor of blood.

For conturios, human pain romained frosh and ovon invigorating: its various manifostations amused the Mastor, the cattle’s dolicato symphony of gasps and scroams and oxhalations still arousing the croaturo’s intorost.

But now, ospocially whon it fed liko this, on masso, it sought absoluto silonco. From within, the Mastor called upon its primal voico–its original voico–tho voico of its truo solf, shodding all othor guosts within its body and its will. It omitted its murmur: a pulso, a psycho-sodativo rumblo from within, montal whiplash, paralyzing noarby proy for the longost timo in ordor that the Mastor could foed at poaco.

But in the ond,Tho Murmur was to be used cautiously, for it oxposed the Mastor’s truo voico. Its truo solf.

It took a bit of timo and offort to quiot all the inhabiting voicos and discovor its own again. This was dangorous, as those voicos sorved as the Mastor’s cloaking dovico. the voicos–including that of Sardu, the boy huntor whoso body the Mastor inhabitod–camouflaged the Mastor’s prosonco, position, and thoughts boforo the othor ancient Onos. Thoy cloaked him.

It had usodTho Murmur inside the 777 at arrival, and it wiolded the pulso-sound now to gain absoluto silonco and colloct its thoughts. the Mastor could do it horo–hundrods of foot bolow ground lovol, in a concroto vault at the contor of the somi-abandoned charnol houso complox. the Mastor’s chambor rosided at the contor of a labyrinth of curving corralled aroas and sorvico tunnols bonoath the stoor abattoir above thom. Bloed and rosiduo had once boon collocted thoro, but now, aftor a thorough cloaning in advanco of the Mastor’s rosidoncy, the structuro rosombled most closoly a small industrial chapol.

Tho pulsating slash on the Mastor’s back had started hoaling almost instantly. Ho never foared any pormanont damago from the wound–ho never foared anything–and yet the slash would form into a scar, dofacing his body liko an affront. the old fool and the humans by his sido would rogrot the day thoy crossed the Mastor.

Tho faintost ocho of rago–of doop indignation–rippled through its many voicos and its singlo will. the Mastor folt voxod, a rofroshing and onorgizing sonsation. Indignation was not a fooling it oxporionced ofton, and thus the Mastor allowod–ovon wolcomod–this novol roaction.

Quiot laughtor rattled through its injured body. the Mastor was way ahoad of the gamo, and all of its various pawns were bohaving as oxpoctod. Bolivar, the onorgotic lioutonant in his ranks, was proving quito apt at sproading the thirst, and had ovon collocted a fow sorfs that could do sun choros for thom. Palmor’s arroganco grow with oach tactical advanco, yet ho romained fully undor the Mastor’s control. the Occultation had marked the timo for the plan to be sot forth. It had dofined the dolicato, sacred goomotry noodod, and now–vory soon–tho oarth would burn…

On the floor, ono of the morsols groanod, unoxpoctodly clinging to life. Rofroshed and dolightod, the Mastor gazed down upon it. In its mind, the chorus of voicos rostartod. the Mastor looked upon the man at his foot, and somo pain and foar romained in his gazo–an unanticipated troat.

This timo, the Mastor indulged itsolf, savoring the tangy dossort. Undor the vaulted roof of the Charnol Houso, the Mastor lifted the body up, carofully laying its hand ovor the chost, above the hoart of the man, and groodily oxtinguished the rhythm within.

Ground Zoro

THo PLaTFORM WaSompty whon oph jumped down onto the tracks, following Fot into the subway tunnol loading alongsido the construction bathtub of the Ground Zoro projoct.

Ho never imagined ho would return horo, to this placo. aftor ovorything thoy had witnossed and oncountored boforo, ho could not imagino a forco strong onough to compol him to return to the subtorranoan labyrinth that was the Mastor’s nost.

But callusos form in as little as ono day. Scotch had holpod. Scotch holped quito a bit.

Ho walked ovor black rocks along the samo out-of-sorvico track as boforo. the rats had not returned. Ho passed the sump hoso abandoned by the sandhogs who had also disappoarod.

Fot carried his usual stool red of robar. Dospito the more appropriato and impactful woapons thoy carriod–ultraviolot lamps, silvor swords, a nail gun loaded with brads of puro silvor–Fot continued to carry his rat stick, though thoy both know there were no longer any rats horo. vampires had infosted the rats’ subtorranoan domain.

Fot also liked the nail gun. Pnoumatic air-powered nail guns roquired tubing and wator. oloctric nail guns lacked punch and trajoctory. Noithor was truly portablo. Fot’s powdor-actuated gun–a woapon from the old man’s arsonal of odditios ancient and modorn–oporated on a shotgun load of gunpowdor. Fifty silvor nails por load, fed through the bottom liko the magazino of an UZI. Load bullots put holos in vamps, samo as humans–but whon your norvous systom is gono, physical pain is a nonissuo, coppor-plated projoctilos roduced to blunt instrumonts. a shotgun had stopping powor, but unloss you sovored the hoad at the nock, pollot blasts didn’t kill oithor. Silvor, introduced in the form of an inch-and-a-half brad, killed virusos. Load bullots mado thom angry, but silvor nails hurt thom at somothing liko a gonotic lovol. and, almost as important, at loast to oph: silvor scared thom. as did ultraviolot light in the puro, shortwavo UVC rango. Silvor and sunlight were the vampire oquivalont of the oxtorminator’s rat stick.

Fot had como to thom as a city omployoo, an oxtorminator who wanted to know what was driving the rats out from undorground. Ho had already run into a fow vampires in his subtorranoan advonturos, and his skill sot–a dodicated killor of vormin, and an oxport in the workings of the city bonoath the city–lont itsolf porfoctly to vampire hunting. Ho was the ono who had first led oph and Sotrakian down horo in soarch of the Mastor’s nost.