Bloodliner (6 page)

*****

 

Chapter 14

Even as Jonah laughed at what sounded like a joke, he did the mental math. Was it possible the old woman wasn't kidding about being his great-grandfather's mother?

No way.
That would have been his answer two days ago. But now he was on the other side of the mirror.

Haven't you wondered what the old woman is doing down here in vampire town?

"Oh my God." The words slipped out of Jonah's mouth before he could catch them.

It was too incredible to be true.

Play it cool. You're a vampire, remember? This shouldn't surprise you a bit.

"So you're my great-great grandmother?" Jonah couldn't quite keep all the amazement out of his voice.

"That's right." Mother Nothing smiled.

Jonah stared closely at her mouth and found what he was looking for: a pair of fangs. She didn't have many other teeth left, but the fangs were still there.

She's my great-great grandmother, and she's a vampire. I don't know which is weirder.

Stanza turned to Jonah. "This is my specialty, remember?" she said. "Long-lived supernaturals. Meet your own great-great grandmother in the flesh. Why settle for dusty old marriage licenses, deeds, and death certificates?"

Jonah had pressing questions for Stanza, but held back for fear of giving away his non-vampire status. Better to wait until later.

Not like I don't have other questions I can ask.

"She's
your
great-great grandmother, too, Mavis," said Stanza.

Mavis shrugged. "If you say so."

Mavis doesn't buy it. Maybe she's right.

"Where were you born?" said Jonah.

"A little town called Gondola, in the Shenandoah River valley in Virginia." Mother Nothing tugged a wadded tissue from her sleeve and dabbed at her nose. "In 1848."

"Wow," said Jonah. "That was a long time ago."

"I guess it was," said Mother Nothing. "My husband and I had a pretty little farm where we raised two girls and three boys. Lost one of the girls and two of the boys in the war between the states. The son who survived was your great grandfather, Shadrack."

In spite of his doubts—and the fact that the old woman was a vampire—Jonah was fascinated. "What was he like?"

"Tough as nails," said Mother Nothing. "That was how he got through the war. Was a general for a while, too—at least until he got The Big Bite."

Jonah's eyes widened, and he leaned further forward. "He was a vampire, too?"

Mother Nothing winked. "Runs in the family, right?" She looked completely incongruous when she opened her mouth wide, bared her fangs, and hissed at Jonah.

No one would ever believe this. I can never tell anyone. My vampire great-great grandmother just hissed at me.

"There's a picture of him beside you on the table," said Mother Nothing. "From the old days."

Jonah looked over and found the image, set in a round pewter frame the size of an apple. He searched the face of the black-bearded general in Confederate gray, but he did not recognize any family traits.

"Mother Nothing," said Stanza. "I've connected the dots from Shadrack to Jonah and Mavis. What we want to know is who came
before
Shadrack. Who came before
you.
"

Mother Nothing slowly closed her milky eyes. "My parents came from England. Their names were Martin and Evelyn Gaunt."

"And they were vampires?" said Stanza.

"My father was," said Mother Nothing. "That side of the family was nothing
but
vampires."

Stanza nodded thoughtfully. "Where in England did your parents live?"

"An island called Lyonesse." Mother Nothing cackled softly. "Lyonesssse."

"Why did they leave?" said Jonah.

"They were searching for something. Never did find it." Mother Nothing shrugged and looked him in the eye...or as close as she could through the milkiness clouding her sight. "Maybe
you
will."

Mother laughed loudly, and Stanza cleared her throat. Jonah had the feeling he and Mavis were the only ones in the room who weren't in on the joke.

What the hell's that all about?

"I've been to Lyonesse," said Stanza. "I know how to get there."

"Planning a visit?" Mother Nothing grinned.

"Depends," said Stanza. "What can you tell us about your grandparents?"

Mother Nothing sighed. "Never met them. All I know is they were from the Old Country. Germany, I think. And they were vampires on my father's side."

"If that's all you can tell us, then yes," said Stanza. "We're going to Lyonesse."

Mother Nothing raised her eyebrows. "That's a long trip."

Stanza got up from the sofa. "I know a shortcut."

"Good for you." Mother Nothing's demeanor darkened. "Just remember, you might not come back."

"We'll be fine," said Stanza. "I've got a friend there."

"Well, then. Good luck to you." Mother Nothing smiled sweetly and waved.

Stanza headed for the exit, with Mavis close behind. Jonah swung toward Mother Nothing on his way out.

"Nice meeting you," he said.

Mother Nothing reached out with tiny, trembling hands. Her milky eyes stared in his general direction. "Always happy to see a great-great grandson," she said.

Jonah gazed at her—so withered and weathered and frail. What a miracle, seeing his own great-great grandmother in the living, breathing flesh.

How many people can say they've done that?

So much for not having any family left. Just days after losing his parents, Jonah had found a cousin he hadn't known existed and an ancestor he'd never imagined meeting.

I'm not alone anymore.

Mesmerized by Mother Nothing's ancient face, he continued to stare at her. In a daze, he felt her fingertips brush his forearms and wrap around his hands.

Only when she got up out of her rocking chair did he realize he couldn't move.

"I'm so hungry," she whispered in his ear. "And lucky me, you're not a vampire at all."

Oh my God! My own great-great grandmother's going to suck my blood!

Just as Mother Nothing lunged for his throat, her head suddenly snapped back. As she thrashed and squealed, Jonah saw Stanza standing behind her, pulling her away by a fistful of brown hair.

"Now that's not polite, is it? Putting the bite on your own great-great grandson?" Stanza pitched the old woman to the floor.

The fall would have hurt—maybe broken—any other woman who was as old as Mother Nothing looked. Being a vampire, however, Mother Nothing just rolled and bounced back up to her feet.

Then, she hissed and clawed directly at Stanza.

I guess the old woman's not so blind, after all.

Stanza ducked Mother's claws and kicked her in the side, sending her right back down to the floor.

"Don't get up," said Stanza.

Mother Nothing started to rise, then hissed and relaxed. "Can you
blame
me? I can't
remember
the last time I had fresh-squeezed."

"Apologize to your great-great grandson," said Stanza.

Mother Nothing sighed like a petulant child. "Sorry for trying to drink your blood."

Jonah nodded nervously and backed toward the exit.

So much for the miracle of meeting my ancestor and not being alone anymore.

*****

 

Chapter 15

Shakespeare gashed his claws across the face of one of the attacking Bluegiller vampires, sending him spinning out of control. Then, he turned and shouted at James, who had just dispatched an opponent of his own.

"Break away, James!" said Shakespeare. "We shall hold the enemy here while you in haste bring word of the rabbits' progress. Go now, boy!"

With a nod, James spun and climbed with giant bat-wings flapping, rising through the cylindrical chasm at the heart of the vampire town of Bluegiller.

Shakespeare, who was also on the wing, turned back to the battle just in time. Another of the Bluegiller vampires lunged at him, swinging an axe.

Shakespeare darted clear of the weapon's arc, then leaped back in before the enemy could swing again and kicked the axe from his grip. The enemy shrieked and clawed, but Shakespeare stayed just out of reach. When the enemy made a furious, last-ditch charge, Shakespeare nimbly hopped away and came back down with all claws slashing.

Screaming all the way, the enemy spiraled down into the depths of the central chasm, leaving behind a contrail of blood.

And two more vampires leaped from the ledges to replace him. Shakespeare faced them with a snarl and bloody talons at the ready.

You'll not have our rabbits. You'll not steal our only chance at finding paradise.

Before the two new fighters could reach Shakespeare, Genghis swept down in his red hawk form and snatched one up in his claws. He dashed the enemy against the rock wall, then soared back around as the enemy plunged into the pit below.

As Shakespeare engaged the other fighter, he kept one eye on the giant hawk. The Bluegiller brood, who lived their days like bats in this underground compound, knew only how to fight like bats, not birds of prey.

How many has Genghis killed in the handful of minutes since the battle began? Seven? A dozen?

With just such terrible swiftness and grace, he and his Mongol horde slaughtered men in their thousands on the grassy steppes of Central Asia.

Of course, the dead of today would still be flying if not for Mother Nothing's temper and the Bluegiller brood's ignorance. Mother had been so furious when denied a drink of Jonah, she had ordered her brood to kill the outsiders. The brood, not knowing that Stanza, Jonah, and Mavis were leading the way to a hidden paradise, had gone after them in force.

So now it was up to Shakespeare, Genghis, Thomas, James, and their troops to hold off the hungry brood long enough for the rabbits to escape Bluegiller.

I never thought this day would come, when I would battle side-by-side with such a devil as Genghis and be glad of his wicked skill for taking life.

As Shakespeare put the latest fighter down with a flurry of strikes, he wondered if Stanza and the others had made it to the surface. They had gotten a good head start, leaving well before Mother Nothing put out the word to apprehend them.

It wouldn't hurt if they glimpsed a flash of the onrushing threat. Anything that put the spur to them would be of help, so long as Jonah and Mavis remained unharmed.

Our hope lies solely in those two reaching the goal together...and without corruption.
They must navigate a secret world teeming with vampires, yet not be made vampires themselves along the way.

"Master!" It was James' voice, calling down from above. "They're almost out! They've made it to the ladder!"

"Well done, James," said Shakespeare, watching as a new opponent glided toward him. "Go again and hurry back when they've gained the surface and shut the door behind them."

Without a word, James whirled and flew once more for the upper reaches of the chasm.

Suddenly, then, something struck Shakespeare from behind, slamming hard between his shoulder blades. The impact stunned him, knocking out his breath and setting stars before his eyes.

Even as he tried to turn and answer, another blow caught him on the side of the head, blacking him out for an instant. When next he came aware and looked around, someone had an arm across his throat.

Shakespeare thrashed and bucked in midair, trying to dislodge his sneak attacker. Thanks to his captor's hold, Shakespeare had the use of only one hand, and it wasn't enough to pry loose the arm across his throat. He used his wings as well, flapping them back as hard and far as he could...but he couldn't quite reach whoever had latched onto him.

This isn't good.

When Shakespeare's struggles hit a peak, his captor suddenly swung him around. There before him was one of the Bluegiller brood, flapping just enough to stay aloft.

The new arrival leered and shook something he held in his clawed right hand.

A wooden stake.

Before Shakespeare knew what was happening, his captor held him out in front and charged, swooping straight toward the sharp-pointed stake.

Oh my God.

As Shakespeare lunged at the stake, the moment stretched out before him. Visions of life bolted past his mind's eye...but visions only of his life as a vampire, as if he had never been anything else.

He remembered giving himself over to the bite of his Dark Lady muse, who had promised him glory.

She kept her promise.

He remembered his wife begging him to transform their dying son, Hamnet, thereby sparing his life.

But I could not bring myself to do it.

He remembered the day, long after his "death," when he decided he'd been called a cheap imitator of William Shakespeare for the last time...and resolved to spend his undead existence on dark deeds instead of words.

All the while hating this heartless mockery of life.

If I cannot have the paradise I seek, perhaps the sharpened stake will do.

But Shakespeare did not die.

Just as he was about to be impaled, hands grabbed him from above, clamping onto his shoulders. They wrenched him up and away from his vampire captor, who continued on ahead and took the stake's sharp point in his chest.

As the mortally wounded vampire screamed, Shakespeare looked up to see who had saved his own life. He fought to hide his disappointment when he saw his savior's face.

Thomas.

"What?" said Thomas. "No 'thank you,' Suckspeare?"

Shakespeare lashed up a claw, but Thomas let go and leaped away without a scratch, laughing.

"You owe me now!" said Thomas. "I guess that makes you my
bitch
."

Genghis has trained this one well, I'll give him that. As much as Thomas mirrors James in face and form, he echoes Genghis in the darkness of his words and deeds.

He might not be redeemable at all, though I'd hoped otherwise.

Just then, James soared down from the upper reaches, pumping both thumbs in the air. "They're out! They all got out and the door is closed!"

Shakespeare spun and jabbed a finger at Thomas. "
You
! Go to Mother Nothing!" He pointed at her hole in the wall above. "Find out where she sent them!"

Thomas leered and licked his lips. "With pleasure!" Then, he rocketed upward, aiming straight for Mother Nothing's nest.

The little monster has his uses. Let him do the dirty work that must be done.

Suddenly, Genghis bolted past, thumping Shakespeare on the back with the edge of his wing. "Giving orders to my page now, are you?" His voice was a screeching mixture of human speech and the cry of a hawk. "Why not tell us
all
what to do, you bloodless hack?"

"Good idea," said Shakespeare, and then he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. "
Stop fighting
!" He turned in a circle, projecting his words to as many in the central chasm as he could. "The intruders have escaped!"

Shakespeare repeated himself twice with equal authority. The battle died down almost instantly, as if commanded by a director in the wings of the stage.

I've not forgotten
everything
I learned in the theater.

The two sides drifted apart—Bluegiller natives reassembling on one ledge, Shakespeare and Genghis' group on another. The sides glared at each other across the chasm, waiting only for another signal to rejoin the fight.

Finally, Thomas swooped down from Mother Nothing's nest with a grin on his face. He landed on the ledge in front of Genghis and made it a point to speak directly to him.

"They're headed for England," said Thomas.

That got Shakespeare's attention. "Where in England?"

Thomas didn't answer until Genghis prompted him: "Where exactly, son?"

"A place called Lyonesse," said Thomas.

"Lyonesse?" said Shakespeare. "Are you sure?"

"Are you sure it's Lyonesse, son?" said Genghis.

Thomas sneered and cracked his knuckles. "I'm sure."

Shakespeare rubbed his bearded chin and paced the ledge, submerged in thought.

This adds a new twist to our enterprise.

"What's the problem, Shakespeare?" said Genghis.

"If they indeed are heading into Lyonesse, I'll be surprised if they survive it." Shakespeare drew a finger across his throat. "Even I would hesitate to slip unbidden 'cross the secret border."

Genghis laughed loudly. "You're even more of a chickenshit than I thought!"

"B-kaw b-kaw b-kaw." Thomas imitated a chicken, clucking and flapping his folded arms.

"You can stay behind, widdle pussy," said Genghis. "Thomas and I will charge in without you. Will you come with us, James, or are you a pussy, too?"

James' only answer was a scowl.

"Mock the danger all you like," said Shakespeare, "yet it won't diminish...and it remains but one concern regarding Lyonesse. The greater peril to our undertaking is the presence of another player, one with force and will enough to steal away our prize."

"Another player?" said Genghis. "
God Himself
couldn't come between me and my prize."

This time, it was Shakespeare's turn to laugh. "Close!" he said. "Your guess is closer than you know."