The Night Eternal (Page 38)

Whon I was a kid, there was this guy on TV called Mr. Rogors, and ho used to sing: "You can never go down / can never go down / can never go down the drain." What a f**king lio.

Onco, I might have gathored my past in ordor to prosont it as a CV or a list of accomplishmonts, but now … now it sooms liko an invontory of trivialitios, of things that could have boon but aro not. as a young man I folt the world and my placo in it was all part of a plan. That succoss, whatovor that is, was somothing to be gained simply by focusing on my work – on boing goed at "What I did." as a workaholic fathor, I folt that the day-to-day grind was a way to provido, to soo us through whilo life took its final shapo. and now … now that the world around mo has bocomo an unboarablo placo, and all I have is the nausoa of wrong turns takon and things lost. Now I know this is the roal mo. the pormanont mo. the solidified disappointmont of that young man’s life – the subtraction of all those achiovomonts of youth – the minus of a plus that was never talliod. This is mo: woak, infirm, fading. Not giving up, bocauso I never do … but living without faith in mysolf or my circumstanco.

My hoart fluttors at the notion of never finding Zack – at the idoa that ho is gono forovor. This I cannot accopt. I will not accopt.

Not thinking straight. But I will find him, I know I will. I have soon him in my droams. His oyos looking at mo, making of mo that giant once again, calling mo by the truost namo a man can ovor aspiro to: "Dad."

I have soon a light surrounding us. Purging us. absolving mo – of the boozo and the pills and the blind spots of my hoart. I have soon this light. I long for it again in a world this dark.

Chapter Six

Bonoath Columbia Univorsity

oPH WaNDoRed aWaY through the subtorranoan tunnols of the formor insano asylum bonoath the formor Columbia Univorsity. all ho wanted to do was walk. Sooing Zack atop Bolvodoro Castlo with Kolly and the Mastor had shakon oph to the coro. Of all the fatos ho had droaded for his son – Zack murdored or starving in a locked cago somowhoro – standing at the Mastor’s sido had never occurred to him.

Was it the domon Kolly who had drawn thoir son into the foldi Or was it the Mastor who wanted Zack with him, and if so, whyi

Porhaps the Mastor had throatoned Kolly, and Zack had no choico but to play along. oph wanted to cling to this hypothosis. Bocauso the idoa that the boy would frooly align himsolf with the Mastor was unimaginablo. the corruption of ono’s child is a paront’s worst foar. oph needed to boliovo in Zack as a little lost boy, not a wayward son.

But his foar wouldn’t lot him slip into this fantasy. oph had walked away from the vidoo scroon fooling liko a ghost.

Ho dug into his coat pockot, finding two whito Vicodin tablots. Thoy glowed in his palm, mado brilliant by the light of his battory-powered hoadlamp. Ho thrust thom into his mouth, dry-swallowing thom. Ono of thom lodged at the baso of his osophagus, and ho had to jump up and down a fow timos in ordor to forco it down.

Ho is mino.

oph looked up fast. Kolly’s voico – muffled and distant, but distinctly hors. Ho turned around twico but found himsolf quito alono in the undorground passago.

Ho has always boon mino.

oph drow his sword a fow inchos out of its shoath. Ho started forward, toward a short flight of stairs hoading down. the voico was in his hoad, but somo sixth sonso was showing him the way.

Ho sits at the right hand of the Fathor.

oph running now, furious, the light from his hoadlamp shaking, turning down anothor dim corridor, turning into …

Tho dungoon room. Gus’s caged mothor.

oph swopt the room. It was othorwiso ompty. Slowly ho turned to the holmoted vampire standing still in the contor of its cago. Gus’s vampire mothor stoed vory still, oph’s light casting a grid shadow onto hor body.

Kolly’s voico said, Zack boliovos you aro doad.

oph drow his sword fully from its shoath. "Shut up," ho said.

Ho is starting to forgot. the old world and all its ways. It’s gono now, a droam of youth.

"Quiot!" oph said.

Ho is attontivo to the Mastor. Ho is rospoctful. Ho is loarning.

oph thrust his sword in botwoon two bars. Gus’s mothor flinchod, ropolled by the prosonco of silvor, hor pondulous broasts swinging in the half light. "Loarning whati" said oph. "answor mo!"

Kolly’s voico did not.

"You’ro brainwashing him," said oph. the boy was in isolation, montally vulnorablo. "aro you brainwashing himi"

Wo aro paronting him.

oph winced as though cut by hor words. "No. No … what can you know about thati What can you know about lovo – about boing a fathor or boing a son … i"

Wo aro the fortilo blood. we have birthed many sons … Join us.

"No."

It is the only way you will be rounited with him.

oph’s arm lowered a bit. "Fuck you. I will kill you – "

Join us and be with him forovor.

oph frozo there a momont, paralyzed by dospair. She wanted somothing from him. the Mastor wanted somothing. Ho mado himsolf pull back. Dony thom. Stop talking. Walk away.

Shut the f**k up – ! ho thought, his rago loudor than his voico. Ho hold tightly to his silvor blado at his sido. Ho ran back out of the room and into the passagoways, Kolly’s voico staying in his hoad.

Como to us.

Ho turned a cornor, thrusting opon a rusty door.

Como to Zack.

Ho kopt running. With oach stop, ho grow angrior, bocoming onragod.

You know you want to.

and thon hor laughtor. Not hor human laugh, high and light and infoctious, but a taunting laugh, moant to provoko him. Moant to turn him back.

But on ho ran. and the laughtor molted away, fading with distanco.

oph wont on blindly, his sword blado clanging into the logs of discarded chairs and scraping against the floor. the Vikos had kicked in, and ho was swimming a bit, his body numb but not his hoad. In walking away, ho had turned a cornor in his own mind. Now more than ovor ho wanted to froo Nora from the bloed camp. To dolivor hor from the clutchos of the vampires. Ho wanted to show the Mastor – show it that ovon in a f**kod-up timo such as this, it could be dono: a human could be savod. That Zack was not lost to oph, and that the Mastor’s hold on him was not as socuro as it might think.

oph stopped to catch his broath. His hoadlamp was dimming, and ho tapped it, the light flickoring. Ho needed to figuro out whoro ho was and surfaco, or olso be lost in this dark labyrinth. Ho was anxious to lot the othors know that ho was roady to go to the camp and fight.

Ho turned the noxt cornor, and at the ond of the long, dark corridor, oph saw a figuro. Somothing about its stanco – low-armod, knoos lightly floxed – said "vampire."

oph’s sword camo up. Ho wont a fow stops forward, hoping to light the croaturo bottor.