Part 26 (2/2)
”All right, but unlike you, I don't carry a flamethrower as part of my usual vampire-hunting kit, Blake.”
Truth was, neither did I. ”Just clear the crypt and call an extermination team.”
”You mean a bug squad.” That was one name for the exterminators who did everything from c.o.c.kroaches to rogue wererat infestations and ghouls. They were who you called if you found a zombie just wandering down the street, since fire would destroy it and most animators couldn't put the zombie back without knowing the grave it came from.
”Yeah,” I said.
”I'll ask my superiors if I can call them as backup, but they aren't going to let me burn everything down there. The lesser vampires may wake up sane and fine now that he's dead.”
”He's not dead, Morgan.”
”How do you know that?”
I almost said, Because the Lover of Death was looking for his bloodline last night Because the Lover of Death was looking for his bloodline last night, but I couldn't share that without explaining things I couldn't explain to the cops at all.
”If you're asking me am I a hundred percent sure, I'm not, but I'm ninety-eight percent sure and I wouldn't have my people down in that hole this late in the day.”
”Rotting vampires rise earlier than most, though they can't pa.s.s for human until full dark because they look like decayed corpses until then.” He sounded like he was quoting. Morgan was one of the newer executioners who had been recruited for the job, and not grandfathered in like most of us. He was part of a new breed of vampire hunter, trained in cla.s.srooms with books and guest lectures. It wasn't a bad way to learn, and you probably had less death in the learning curve, but in this moment I'd have taken an old-fas.h.i.+oned shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later vampire hunter.
”I'll clear the crypt, Blake, but that's all I can do until I clear this with someone.”
”I'll take what I can get, Morgan. Just get your people out of there.”
”I will.”
”Now,” I said.
”I'm walking toward the entrance to the crypt as we speak. Good enough?”
”Yeah.”
”s.h.i.+t . . .” The phone fell against something loud enough I had to take it away from my ear.
”Morgan, Morgan, you all right?” I heard him moving as if he were standing on gravel and the phone were on the ground. ”Morgan, are you still there?”
I heard noises on the phone as if he'd picked it up. ”Morgan, talk to me.”
I heard someone swallow as if his throat hurt. It was a wet sound. ”I'm afraid Marshal Morgan can't come to the phone. To whom am I speaking?” The voice was male and thick, as if he had a speech impediment or injury to his mouth.
”Marshal Blake,” I said.
”Anita Blake.” The voice coughed as if to clear something.
”Yes. Who is this?” But my speeding pulse already knew the answer, before he said, ”I am Clayton, Master of the City of Atlanta, Georgia, but my true masters have filled me with purpose. Do you know what that purpose is, Ms. Blake?”
”To slaughter as many people as you can so that your true masters can feed off the death.”
”You do know what's happening.” He hung up.
I screamed wordlessly into the dead phone. It took everything I had not to fling the phone across the room. I dialed Finnegan's number. He picked up, voice rushed. ”Morgan isn't picking up his phone.”
”He's probably dead,” I said.
”How do you know that?”
I told him how I knew.
”Clayton isn't supposed to be a rotting vampire. He's never shown any sign of it.”
”He was hiding, Finnegan. People may want to be vampires, but not if they think they'll be spending eternity looking like decayed corpses. That's not s.e.xy enough for people to volunteer.”
”How many others are hiding in plain sight, Blake?”
”I don't know.”
I heard sirens, lots of sirens. ”I'm almost there. I'll call you, let you know how bad.”
”Finnegan, wait, you need an extermination team with flamethrowers. He walked out in daylight; only fire will kill him.”
”That's not standard issue to cops,” he said.
”I know that.”
”f.u.c.k,” he said, and this time he didn't apologize. ”If we all live through this I'll call you back.” He hung up.
We were hundreds of miles away with no way to help them. ”Motherf.u.c.ker.” Or were we? I reached out for Jean-Claude down that metaphysical pipeline and he was there. He looked up and whispered, ”Ma pet.i.te.” ”Ma pet.i.te.” I didn't try to tell him everything, I simply opened my mind and he knew what I knew. I didn't try to tell him everything, I simply opened my mind and he knew what I knew.
I asked out loud to the room, ”Is there anything we can do from here? Can you help me control him from here?”
”I am sorry, ma pet.i.te ma pet.i.te, but no. He is a Master of the City, as am I. His ties to the land and the vampires there will keep us from interfering.”
”d.a.m.n it!”
”I am sorry, ma pet.i.te ma pet.i.te.”
My phone rang. I hit the screen almost yelling. ”Finnegan, what's happening?”
”I'm sorry, I'm not Finnegan,” a male voice said.
”Who is this?”
”Sorry to catch you on a bad day, Anita, but this is Jake. I gave you some jewelry once.”
I think I stopped breathing for a moment. The turn of events was too fast. My hand went to the charm around my neck. ”I'm wearing it now,” I said.
”You do remember, then,” he said.
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