Now Comes the Night (26 page)

“Of course they’re worth something,” Heather insisted. “They were hidden in the wall! What does that tell you?”

“It tells me that someone was prolly trying to plug up a draft. Besides, you said you found them in the back of a closet, right? So what does that tell
you
—other than whoever put them there didn’t think they were important enough to take with them when they left.”

“They weren’t in the closet. They were shoved in the crawl space behind the closet and boarded up. You do know what ‘hidden’ means, don’t you?”

“Whatever. It’s not like they were locked in a safe or anything.”

“Oh, what do you know?”

“About this stuff? Nothing. And neither do you. This thing looks older’n both of us put together. I can’t even read what it says. What the hell language is that, anyway?”

“It’s Latin,” Drew answered, peering over their shoulders at the document they had spread out on one of the small tables with which the warehouse was furnished. The scroll was parchment, the ink so faded it was barely legible. Definitely old and very likely valuable as well—the girl had that part right.

Both ferals started in surprise. Heather uttered a little shriek and grabbed for the scroll.

Imprecor Obscurum
, Drew read, just before Heather snatched up the document and hugged it to her chest.
To Curse the Darkness
. An ominous title.

The parchment crackled under the girl’s handling. Drew winced at the sound. He had to bite back the urge to snarl. “Careful! You’re going to destroy it.”

“Who the hell are you?” the other feral—the one she’d called Nighthawk—finally found his voice. He scowled fiercely. “How’d you get in here?”

Drew ignored the scowl—and the first question. He pointed back the way he’d come. “Your door’s open.”

“Yeah? Well, we’re not. Open, I mean. Come back some other time.”

“He’s not here to eat,” Heather said, still protectively cradling the scroll and eyeing him warily. “He’s from one of the other clubs. I remember seeing him before. He knows Marc.”

“I remember you, too.” Drew looked her over, surprised by the differences in her appearance. She looked infinitely calmer than the last time he’d seen her, infinitely more civilized. In fact, if he hadn’t already known her as feral, he would not have pegged her as one tonight. New? Yes. Wild? Not so much.

Strange. Very strange. He’d never seen such a thing before. He nodded at the parchment in her arms. “I meant what I said, by the way. You’re right about that scroll. It’s probably very valuable. But if you keep holding it that way you’re likely to crush it into dust.”

“Would you both just screw the damn scroll?” Nighthawk waved away Drew’s concerns. “Who gives a shit, all right? What I want to know is what the fuck are you doing here?”

Drew held up the gift box he’d brought with him. “Like the lady said, ’tis the season for giving. Is Marc around?”

The two ferals exchanged a glance then Nighthawk leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. “Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t,” he said, still eyeing Drew with suspicion. “And maybe you should just leave your present here and go. I’ll be sure and remind Marc to send you a thank-you note.”

Heather sighed and shook her head. “A thank-you note. That’s almost funny, coming from you.” Turning away, she quickly rolled the parchment up, amid more wince-inducing crackling, and slid it none-too-gently into a black leather map case. The case was old as well, Drew noted, but nowhere near as old as the scroll, maybe only a half-century or so. Heather stuffed the case into a small duffel bag, partially filled with several identical cases and hefted the bag into her arms. Then she nodded in Drew’s direction. “C’mon, I’ll take you up to him.”

“You’ll do what?” Nighthawk straightened up. “Hold up a minute. Where are you taking those? And who says he’s going anywhere with you? You don’t make the rules around here.”

“Neither do you,” Heather replied, turning to stick her tongue out at her friend. “And I told you, I’m giving them to Marc. If he can get one Christmas present tonight, I figure he can get two.”

“Oh, so now it’s okay to give them to him tonight? That’s great. Just so you remember though, that was my idea.”

“Keep dreaming,” Heather said as she headed toward a narrow stairway that led to the second floor. “It’s my idea. I do what I want to do. And I don’t take orders from you.”

“Women,” the feral grumbled beneath his breath. Drew threw him a commiserating glance as he hurried to follow Heather up the stairs. The only thing keeping him from agreeing outright was the suspicion that Heather was acting less like a woman than a child. She looked young, she acted younger. No wonder Marc had claimed she was little more than a kid. If Drew didn’t know it to be impossible, he’d think so too.

“Someone to see you,” Heather announced as she pushed open a door at the end of the upstairs corridor. Drew followed her inside and found himself in what appeared to be an office.

Marc, his back to the door, was inspecting a bookshelf that ran the whole length of one wall. He spun around quickly. “Drew. It’s good to see you. What brings you here?”

The sight of Marc’s eye-patch, still so unexpected, almost distracted Drew from his mission. “Just distributing a little holiday cheer,” he said as he proffered the gift he’d brought, a bottle of his best brandy, packaged with two crystal glasses.

“Excellent.” Marc’s single eye lit up at the sight. “You’ll stay for a drink, won’t you?”

“I’d be delighted to,” Drew said as he took a seat in one of the chairs that were set in front of the large desk. So far, everything was going exactly as planned. He glanced around curiously. He was surprised at the size of the library. He would not have taken his friend to be that much of a reader.

“I got you something too,” Heather said, shyly holding out the duffel bag. “Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Marc took the bag from her and looked at it curiously. “What do we have here?”

“It’s scrolls. In Latin.” Heather nodded toward Drew. “
He
says they’re valuable.”

“
Probably
valuable,” Drew clarified. “Assuming they’re authentic, which I do think is likely. After all, I can’t imagine why anyone would go to the trouble of faking such things.” Seeing Marc’s surprise he added, “I only saw part of one, but the parchment looked quite old.”

Marc’s eyebrows rose further. “How old?”

Drew shrugged. “At a guess? Several hundred years.”

“I don’t understand.” Marc opened one of the cases and slid the roll of parchment partway out, handling the friable document as gently as possible. “This building isn’t even one hundred years old. Where did these come from?”

“I found them,” Heather answered. “You said to look for hidden stuff, so I did. You like them don’t you? Nighthawk said they were just junk.”

A faint smile curved Marc’s lips. “Well, Nighthawk doesn’t know everything now, does he?”

Heather shook her head. “Nope. He didn’t even know they were Latin.” She frowned suddenly. “Do you know Latin?”

Marc nodded. “Yes. Enough, anyway.”

“Will you teach me?”

“Possibly. But, for right now, why don’t you go back downstairs and keep an eye on things for me? Make sure nobody decides anything else as valuable as these are junk. Okay?”

Heather’s face fell. She gestured at the bag. “You don’t know they’re valuable yet. Don’t you even want to look at them?”

“Of course I do. But later, all right? We’ll look at them together—how’s that sound?”

“Just you and me?” Heather’s gaze turned crafty. “You promise?”

Marc’s smile widened. “I promise.”

“All right,” she said, looking pleased. “I’ll come back later. Meantime, I’ll try and make sure nobody does anything too stupid.”

Drew watched her leave. “I see now why you were so insistent she was just a child.”

Marc shot him an amused glance as he opened the brandy and poured out two glasses. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“She’s very lucky to be alive. Whoever turned her was surprisingly irresponsible. It’s little wonder if he or she is dead. If the girl had been just a little younger, she wouldn’t have made it.”

“Why is that, exactly?” Marc’s gaze was hooded as he handed one of the glasses to Drew and then settled back against the desk. “I mean, I get it, you know? People keep telling me it’s impossible, you can’t turn kids, yada, yada, but no one ever explains why they think that.”

Drew took a sip of brandy and shrugged. “That’s just the way things are. I don’t think anyone knows for certain why. If I had to guess, I’d say it probably has something to do with hormones. But it’s not just conjecture, you know. I assure you, it’s been tried many times in the past, and it always failed.”

“So what about the
Infragilis
? Or are you saying that’s just part of the same myth?”

“Exactly. Myths, legends, fairytales—call them what you will. Those creatures don’t exist, my friend.”

“But that’s what you’d call them, right? These children who somehow or other would have survived being turned?”

Drew hesitated. “No, not exactly. According to the legends the
Lamia Infragilis
were children who were born vampire. It’s really a different thing entirely.”

“Born that way? But, I thought…”

“That it was impossible? Yes, I know.” Drew smiled. “Which is what I’ve been telling you.”

“Okay, fine. They don’t exist either. But is that it then? That’s the whole legend? They’re only special because vampires are never born, but if they did exist they’d grow up to be just like every other vampire. Or is there more to the story than that?”

Drew’s eyebrows rose. “Why this sudden interest in the old stories? I thought ferals were your hobby? Surely you don’t imagine the girl is
Infragilis
?”

“Who, Heather?” Marc shook his head. “No. She was only turned a few months ago. I’m just curious. I’d never heard the term until the other day. Someone mentioned them, said something about their supposedly having special powers, and I wondered what’s the deal?”

“There is no deal. Like I said, they don’t exist.”

Marc rolled his eyes. “Right. I got that. Just…hypothetically speaking. If there were such things as
Lamia Infragilis
, what would they be like?”

“Well, according to the stories, they’d be unusually strong—mentally, for the most part, but physically too. From a very young age they’d be able to hold their own against much older vampires. They’d be able to withstand extraordinary hardships, much like the
Invitus
can. Also their senses would be more acute than average and it’s said their blood would possess extraordinary curative properties, above and beyond what’s normal for us. There’s also a wide range of other supposed abilities they could develop as well ‘in the fullness of time’, however long that would be.”

“Such as?”

“I’m not exactly sure. I never made a study of it. Bend others to their will, perhaps? The legends are oddly vague on that point, in any event. I believe there was something about ‘siring the sireless’ and ‘ransoming the damned’ whatever either of those things might mean. Basically, it’s assumed there’s very little they couldn’t do better or faster or…”

“So they’d be like…bionic vampires?” Marc smirked. “Is that what you’re saying? Only without the rebuilding, obviously.”

Drew returned his smile. “Exactly. Super vampires, if you will.”

“So how’re they different from
Invitus
?”

“In many ways, actually.
Invitus
are stronger and generally hardier than your average vampire. They’re able to withstand hardships that would likely break the rest of us. But other than that, and the more caustic venom, they’re not fundamentally all that different.
Infragilis
, on the other hand…well, they’re mysteries. No one knows the extent or the limit of their abilities—or if they even have limits—which is precisely why they’re considered dangerous.”

“What?” Marc straightened up at that, his expression startled. “Dangerous! Why’s that?”

“Because of the unpredictability of them, their potential for disrupting our entire way of life. Because they start out as children, innocents who might be molded, for good or evil, at the hands of whoever raises them. They’re much worse than
Invitus
in that way. Theoretically, whoever controls one of them would be virtually invincible. That’s largely why it was finally decided that no one should ever again attempt to turn children, if you must know. After so many died in foolish attempts at creating
Infragilis
using newborn infants as test subjects, or turning pregnant women against their will, the practice was virtually banned.”

“Wonderful,” Marc muttered in disgust. “That’s a great heritage. What a terrific legacy we’ve inherited.”

Drew smiled. “This world is a brutal place, my friend. That’s true for humans and vampires alike. There’s no telling how far some people will go for wealth or power. But, come, let’s talk of more cheerful things, like what have you been doing with yourself these past weeks?”

“Nothing much,” Marc answered with a shrug. “Just trying to get this place up and running. Trying to give the ferals a fighting chance at something approaching a normal life.”