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Vol.1 Vampire Hunter D 6 страница

Of course, that wasn't to say they would feed on just anyone. The sisters were gourmands in their own way. Though the Count had sent hundreds of people into the subterranean world, and still others had wandered in from various entrances, the sisters hadn't tasted pleasure like this for centuries, and had devoured their victims' flesh greedily but joylessly year after year. Now the time had come for pleasure to burn through their shared body once again. A heady blush tinged the three beautiful faces, their eyes danced with flames, and the hot breath spilling from their vermilion lips threatened to melt D's frostily gorgeous visage.

"Well now," the oldest sister fairly moaned. Three sets of damp, bewitching lips closed in on the firm iron gate that was D's mouth.

The instant their lips met his, the sisters saw it. They saw the crimson blood-light glinting from D's eyes. It dealt a mysterious blow to their wicked minds. In that instant, the three sisters felt a sweet thrill racing through their body, the likes of which they'd never experienced before.

"Oh, those lips," the oldest sister said in a husky voice.

"Show me your throats," a low, rusty voice commanded.

Without time to comprehend it was D's voice they heard the sisters raised their necks as one and brought the slick white base of their throats to D's lips. Something told them there was no other way to snuff the feverish excitement gnawing its way through their bodies. The Midwich Medusas' wits were no longer functioning properly.

"Undo your hair."

D's limbs were immediately set free. His right hand returned his sword to its sheath while his left scooped up a fistful of hair.

"A trap baited with pleasure—but who caught whom?" Before his muttered words had faded, D dropped the strands he held and pulled the three lengthy necks to himself with both arms. "I don't like doing this, but it's the only way to find a way out of here. Someone's waiting for me." As he spoke, his eyebrows suddenly rose and his eyes rolled back. His lips spread wide, exposing a pair of fangs. Brutal and evil, his visage was that of a vampire.

There in the darkness, what happened in the moments that followed?

The cries of the women melded with the repeated splash of their tail beating the water's surface, suggesting unearthly delights had just taken mastery of them. It was the sisters who had blundered into the pleasure-baited trap. Before long, there was the sound of something heavy dropping into the water three times in succession, and then D quickly gave the command: "Arise."

Twisting their torso and serpentine necks, the three sisters rose again. A hollow shadow clung to their countenances, and their bloodshot eyes were as damp as the mist, as desire choked the vitality from them. And it was truly eerie how their glistening greasy faces were completely bloodless, with a luster like paraffin

At the base of each of the three necks a pair of deep red dots could be seen. Fang marks.

Who could have known the demonic blood slumbering within D would awaken at the last possible second? He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Now, as his gorgeous countenance returned to the cool mountain spring it always was, he commanded the three sisters to lead him to an exit in a voice that resembled a moan of pain.

The three heads bobbed wordlessly in midair, then moved off into the darkness. As D followed them and vanished into the darkness also, a taunting voice could be heard from around his waist. "No matter how you hate it, you can't fight your blood. That's your destiny—and you know it deep in your bones." In a split second came the response. "Silence! I don't remember telling you to come out! Get back in there!"

The angry shouts clearly belonged to D. So, who had been speaking before? What could D have meant by those strange expressions? And most of all, why had his ice-cold exterior shattered, even if only for a moment?

While the edge of the plains swallowed the last bit of afterglow from the sunset, and Doris continued waiting for D, Dr. Ferringo's buggy pulled up to her house. Doris was somewhat embarrassed, and tried to get the doctor to leave. Doctors were far too precious on the Frontier for her to put one in such danger. After all, this fight was hers and hers alone. She'd mixed a sedative in with Dan's dinner and he was already fast asleep. That was probably the best thing to do with him, since a Noble stalking their prey wouldn't even spare a glance at anyone who wasn't in their way.

"Um, Doc, I'm a little busy today with stuff here on the farm," Doris called preemptively from the porch.

But the doctor responded, "That's quite all right, I don't mind. I was just out on a house call—could I trouble you for a glass of water?" Dispelling her objections with a wave of his hands, he went ahead and opened the door, trotted into the living room, and installed himself on the sofa.

He'd been a friend of her late father, he'd brought Doris and Dan into the world with his own two hands, and since the death of their parents to this very day, he'd helped them in countless ways. Because of this, Doris couldn't very well toss him out on his ear. To make matters worse, for some reason he began to recount his youthful adventures battling supernatural creatures—or "the damned things," as he liked to call them—and Doris had no recourse but to sit and listen attentively. He must've been aware the Noble would most likely be coming for her, so she had to wonder why he seemed so dead set on hanging around.

Night rolled closer with each passing minute, and D wasn't back yet. The moment the sun set, Doris resolved to fight alone. All the armaments and traps spread across the farm had been double-checked, but she only grew more afraid. And now she had not only herself but the physician to worry about as well.

No matter what happens to me, I've got to protect Doc at all costs. Please, don't let him strike till after Doc has gone. As she made this wish, another concern annoyingly crept up on her.

No matter what happens, I can't let myself think about that If he makes me one of them, what'll happen to Danl He can't live the rest of his life knowing his only blood relative is one of the Nobility—that's just too big a burden to carry. Nothing doing, Doris. Get your arms and legs ripped off trying if you have to, but fight that bastard off. The bravery she mustered only lasted a heartbeat before sinking into the shadow of her fears. Coupled with centuries of psychological conditioning, the horror of actually falling victim to the pernicious fangs of the Nobility had more than enough dark power to daunt a young girl of seventeen, no matter how distinguished a fighter she may have been.

When the hands on the clock indicated nine thirty Night Doris finally came out with it. "Well, Doc, I think I'm gonna turn in now." So please hurry up and go home—this much Doris implied, but Dr. Ferringo showed no signs of rising. Instead, he said something that shocked her senseless.

"You'll have a dangerous customer paying you a call real soon." "That's right, Doc, so you'd best be on your way—" "My, but you are a sweetie," the elderly physician said, showering her with a gaze of boundless affection. "But there's a time and a place for restraint. You don't have to be that way with me. Seventeen years ago, I brought you into this world with my own two hands, and you've always been like a daughter to me, haven't you? Now this old fool ain't the sort to just stand by while a young lady does battle with a demon straight from hell." As Doris stood at the door to the living room watching the old man, her eyes glistened softly with tears. "Don't look so down in the mouth," the old man said jovially. "I may not look it, but it was yours truly that taught your father the tricks of the Werewolf Hunting trade."

"I know that. It's just—"

"If you know it, then why don't you stop your blubbering? Of course, it is interesting to see a little spitfire like you squirt a few tears from time to time. Anyway, where's that young fellow? You hired him for protection, but when night started coming on, he probably took to his heels, I suppose. He was a spooky character; that one, but he turned out to be a worthless drifter, did he?"

"No, he didn't!" Up to that point Doris stood silently, touched by his words and nodding in agreement, but this sudden about-face, and her exclamation, made the elderly physician jump in his seat. "That's not the sort of man... uh, I mean, he's not the kind to do that. No, sir. The reason he's not here tonight is because he went into the Count's castle alone. And he hasn't come back yet. I just... Something's happened to him, I just know it..."

An ineffable light sparked in Dr. Ferringo's eyes. "So you were kind of... Now I see... I didn't know you felt that way about him"

Doris regained her composure and hastily wiped at her tears. "What do you mean by that? It's not like I... I mean..."

The physician grinned at the young girl as a rosy blush suffused her face. Then he made a gentle wave of his hands. "Okay, okay. My mistake. If you think that much of him, then we needn't worry about him. I'm sure he'll be back soon. Until he does, what do you say to working up the nerve to capture the Count?"

"Sure," Doris said with a cheery nod, then suddenly, with great apprehension, she asked, "How are we gonna do that?"

There was no precedent for a human capturing a member of the Nobility—a vampire. Battles between the two species were normally a matter of kill or be killed. It went without saying that one side ended up dead more often than not. Particularly when doing battle at night, in the Nobility's element, the respective weapons and abilities of the combatants made the outcome painfully obvious.

"With this." The elderly physician produced a small glass bottle from his faithful medical bag. It was filled to its corked neck with yellowish granules.

"What in the world is that?" Doris' tone was a jumble of expectation and misgivings.

Dr. Ferringo didn't answer, but rather pulled a battered envelope from the same bag and unfolded the letter it contained. He held it out to Doris.

The second she laid eyes on the characters scrawled in sap-based ink on the yellowed paper, Doris turned to the physician with a perplexed expression. "This handwriting... My father wrote this..."

His hoary head bobbed in agreement.

"Your dear father used to send me these while he was out on the road honing his fighting skills, before your brother and you were born. But this was the last of them. If you read it, you'll see that it relates an encounter between your father and a vampire.

"My father and a vampire? Doris forgot everything else and began poring over the letter. The first sentence or two informed the reader he'd arrived at his lodging. Then, the very characters themselves became jumbled with excitement and fear. I've found it. The bastard's weakness is a t... That was all there was. After the last character, the rest of the sheet was just a lonely expanse of rough, yellowed paper. Doris fixed a confused gaze on the elderly physician. "Why didn't my father finish what he was writing? Was there anything in any of his other letters?"

The physician shook his head. "While your father was writing that letter in his lodgings, he was attacked by a vampire, but he fended it off. There can be no doubt your father somehow discovered some weakness of theirs. That much he stated plainly in another letter. The point is, he fought off the fiend, put his mind to order, and had just taken up a pen to record his discovery when he realized he'd completely forgotten what that discovery was."

"Are you serious? How could that happen?" "I'll address that later. At any rate, less than five minutes after the danger had passed, your father found himself standing like a zombie with a pen in his hand. Like a man possessed, he sifted through his memories, wracked his brain, and eventually even tried to reenact his own half of the engagement, but all his efforts were for naught. The vampire appeared and they scuffled. Then, when all hope seemed lost, he narrowly managed to make his foe take flight—that much he could clearly recall, but the form of that decisive attack and manner in which he'd learned it were completely expunged from his memory."

"But why? How did that happen?" Ignoring the same question from Doris a second time, the Physician went on. "We had that last little 't' as a hint, but your father never did figure out what that was supposed to stand for He wrote again about how the situation developed in another letter and sent it along to me, entrusting me to make something out of it. Unfortunately, I failed to live up to his expectations..."

"Well if that's the case," Doris said, completely forgetting the danger creeping steadily closer and whipping herself into a frenzy, "all we have to do is solve the mystery of the little 't' to find out what the Nobility's weakness is, right?" Her voice trembled with expectation, but it quickly withered. She recognized that the shadow clinging to the face of the elderly physician said that the situation was not merely grave, but close to hopeless.

In the past, attempts to learn a definitive way to protect themselves from vampires had been tried time and again, but all of them had proved fruitless. Though humans must have had ample opportunity to learn that secret in the countless conflicts that raged ever since their species lost the right to rule the world not one such method had been passed down to posterity. Now, ages had passed since anyone had even tried to discover them.

"The Nobility is going to beat us after all, aren't they? I mean, if they don't have any weaknesses... "

As Dr. Ferringo heard Doris' words crawling across the floor like a beaten dog, he shook his head and stated firmly, "No If that were the case, we wouldn't have these rumors being passed down all these years that there are things that can hurt them. Didn't your own father state he managed to drive a vampire off in some manner or other? Your father wouldn't have lied to save his own life. I've heard tell of knights and travelers who've had experiences similar to his, and I've even spoken to a few in person."

"And did you find out anything?"

"No, all of them had the same thing happen that your father did. They escaped the loathsome fangs of the fiend by some means... or rather, they forced the fiend to escape. And yet, despite that, not one of them could recall anything at all about what they'd done."

Doris was speechless,

"More recently, I've been tempted to view these rumors of a weakness in the Nobility as legends born of wishful thinking, but I plowed through a mountain of records, and based on the actual cases I could assemble, I'm positive that a weakness does in fact exist. People simply can't remember what it is. In my view, it's a kind of manipulation of our memories."

"Manipulation of our memories?" Doris knit her brow.

"To be more precise, perhaps we could call it a selective and automatic editing of our memories. To wit, our minds have been programmed to automatically erase all memories of a certain kind."

"You mean, memories of their weaknesses? Of weapons that can drive them off?" Unconsciously, Doris was trying to peek inside the old man's head. Was that what the powder in the bottle really was?

Watched by eyes that were a battlefield between hope and uncertainty, the physician went on undeterred. "Remember, we're talking about the bastards who ruled the world for ten thousand years. I'm sure it would be mere child's play for them to alter human DNA and reprogram our minds to selectively weed out any memories of those sorts. That's a theory that's been around for quite some time, and based on my own research, I've taken up with that camp. I'm not usually the type to go along with theories when I don't know the folks behind them, but what's right is right. That being the case, the rest is simple."

"The rest being?"

"All we have to do is bring those memories back."

Doris gasped. "Can you really do that?"

The physician looked very pleased with himself as he rolled the bottle in question in the palm of his hand. "Here we have the fruit of that very endeavor. I hypnotized a dozen of the men and women I interviewed, and tried to regress them with the help of reenactment-stimulating drugs I procured from the Capital. What I have here is something two of them mentioned. You see, even with all their science, the creatures of the night couldn't completely erase our memories."

Doris noticed that the physician seemed to hesitate at the last sentence, but couldn't fathom why. She pursued a different matter instead. "But if what you say is true, Doc, won't the two of us lose all memory of that powder soon?"

"No, I've been fine so far. Again, this is purely a hypothesis but the loss of memory only occurs when the subconscious mind has actual proof that we've discovered a weakness of the damned Nobility. In our heart of hearts, neither you nor I completely believe in the efficacy of this powder. As a result, the enemies' programming hasn't gone into action, either."

"Then why don't we just write it down somewhere?"

"That wouldn't do any good. On reading it, even the person who wrote it would take it as the deluded ravings of a madman."

A somewhat deflated Doris changed her tack. "So is that powder the same little 't' thing that was in my father's letter?"

Once again the physician shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I've given the matter much consideration, but I simply can’t connect the powder with that initial. Some might say your father-overwhelmed by the excitement of this great discovery, miswrote it, but I don't believe that's the case. The reason I don't is because most of the other interviewees failed to mention the powder as well. I think it's safe to assume the letter 't' refers to something else entirely."

"But if some of them could remember the powder, why didn't they remember the other thing?"

Dr. Ferringo faltered. And then he began to speak in the gravest tone Doris had ever heard. "I've always felt there was something somewhat ironic about human/Nobility relations—in the Nobility's view of humanity, to be specific. In your present circumstances, I can't expect you to appreciate this, but they may well feel a kind of affection toward us."

"What the hell! The Nobles think they're our friends? That's ridiculous!"

Rougher than her tone was the way Doris' hand tugged at the scarf around her neck. For the first time in her life, she glared at the elderly physician. "I don't care who you are, Doc, that's... I just don't have the words... "

"Don't pull such a face." The physician waved his hands in an attempt at placating her. "By no means is that to say all of the Nobility feel that way. Any examination of the historical facts will show that, in the preponderance of cases, they don't demonstrate affection, but rather act as if human beings were lower than machines. Emotionally speaking—if we assume for a moment that they indeed have emotions—as much as ninety-nine percent of them are no different from the lord who attacked you. But it's very difficult to discount the possibility that the other one percent exists. I'll have to relate all the facts I've unearthed to you another day..."

Am I gonna see another day? Doris wondered. Beyond the window, something evil was on its way, tearing through the pleasantly sweet air of the spring-like evening. Dr. Ferringo wasn't looking at Doris any longer. His eyes seemed nailed to a spot on the floor as he continued to expound on long-held suspicions. "For example, why would they make distinctions between their weaknesses and the weapons that exploit them? Why did some memory of this powder remain when it could've been erased as completely as whatever the ‘t’ stands for? My guess is that compared to this 't' thing, the powder is a minor hindrance, at best. Could it be the bastards are just teasing us? Is this our masters saying, 'Let them have a minor weakness like this,' as they throw us a bone? If that's the case, then why not make it common knowledge from the start? Here Dr. Ferringo's words trailed off. Pausing a beat, he added "This is the conclusion I've come to after a humble little investigation that's occupied half this old fool's sixty years I take this as a challenge from a race that reached the pinnacle and now slides toward extinction. It's a challenge being offered to us humans, a race that can't even begin to be measured against them. But we may eventually rise to their level, or perhaps even surpass them. And I believe this is what they say. 'If you humans want to inherit our throne, then try to beat us into submission by your own power. If you have the powder then try to solve the mystery of the 't' thing. And when you've solved it, try to prevent it from being shrouded again in the mists of forgetfulness.'"

"That's impossible..." To Doris, the words spilling from her own lips sounded a million miles away. "That'd make them just like an instructor breaking in a Hunter trainee..."

Though he gave a slight nod, it was unclear if the elderly physician truly fathomed Doris' words. His gaze didn't deviate in the least as he said, "This isn't something the Lesser Nobility would be capable of. It may well be..."

"It may well be what?"

"Him. All the true Nobility in the world were united under the thousand Greater Nobility, the seven Kings, and the legendary dark lord who ruled them all—the great vampire, the king of kings, Dra—"

At that moment, a wave of tension swept into Doris countenance. "Doc!" she shouted, but it sounded more like a cry for help than a warning. Snapping back to reality, the physician turned his head to follow Doris as she made for the living room window.

The light of the moon on the cool plains showed no signs of anything on the move, but the ears of both caught the sounds of wagon wheels and hooves pounding distant terrain.

"Looks like he's coming."

"I've got a hell of a welcome party set up for him." Though she'd reclaimed the stalwart mien of an Amazon, in her heart of hearts the girl let a plaintive cry escape. You didn't make it back in time after all, D.

T he black cyborgs seemed to run on unearthly clouds, and, when their hoof beats echoed so close that it was impossible Doris was mistaken, she went to the other side of the living room and twisted one of the silver ceremonial masks adorning the wall to the right.

With a dim sound, part of the floor and wall rotated and pulled out of sight. In a matter of seconds, a wooden control-console and armchair appeared. Though the control console itself was wood, the switch- and lever-dotted top was iron, with a riot of colored lamps and gauges adding to the confusion. This was a combat control center—Doris' father had summoned a craftsman all the way from the Capital to install it. Every weapon on the farm could be controlled from here. As far as being prepared for the attacks by the creatures that ran rampant in the wild, this was about as good as money could buy. A full-field prismatic scope lowered from the ceiling.

"Ha! Back in those days, I asked your father what kind of work he was having done, and he told me he was having a new solar converter put in. Your father was a sly one to even keep this from me."

There wasn't time to respond to the recollections of the still-easygoing physician. The prismatic lens of the view scope showed a black carriage drawn by a team of four horses coming down the road to the farm at full speed. Doris' hand reached for one of the levers. The view scope doubled as a targeting system.

"Steady," Dr. Ferringo told her as he peered out the window, the little bottle in his hand. "You've still got the electromagnetic barrier." Before he had finished speaking, the triple-barred, wooden gate opened without a whisper. As the black carriage was about to sprint through the gate with a gust of wind, it was enveloped by a blinding flash of light.

Powerful enough to char a lesser dragon through tough scales otherwise impervious to blades, the electromagnetic barrier set off a shower of sparks that turned blackest night to brightest day for a fleeting moment. Bursting through a giant, white-hot blossom of fire, the ball of white light forced its way onto the farm. The horse, the driver, the wagon wheels—white flames clung to them all. It was an outlandish sight, like a carriage from hell that had suddenly appeared on earth.

"They're through. What in the world?..." Doris' puzzled exclamation came as she watched the cyborg horses—as soon as they'd broken through the barrier, she'd expected the four of them to tear right into her front yard like a veritable hurricane, but not a single hoof was out of step as they executed a brilliant stop right on the spot.

The magnetic flames swirling around them quickly dispersed. The enemy was protected by a more powerful barrier.

"Not yet. Look! He's getting out!" Once again, her hand was checked by the physician's hopeful command, but in his voice Doris caught a ring of both tension and fear that outweighed the former emotion by far. Embodiment of courage and intellect that the elderly physician was, the damage of scores of centuries of brainwashing by the Nobility had seeped well into his subconscious.

The black door opened, and a massive figure garbed in sable trod down steps that automatically projected onto the ground.

"He must be some kind of idiot—look at him, jumping out like he doesn't have a care in the world."

Ostensibly encouraged, Doris' voice still lacked strength. Her foe knew that any defenses she might be ready to spring on him would pose no threat. When the villain that had left his filthy mark on her neck bared his pearly fangs in a grin and started toward the house alone, Doris pulled the lever.

All over the farm there was the sound of one spring releasing after another. Black chunks flew through the air toward the Count, only to bounce back inches shy of him. What fell to the ground were boulders a good four feet in diameter. Fired in rapid succession, all of the rocky missiles were robbed of their kinetic energy by an invisible barrier, falling around the calmly advancing Count.

"Just as I thought—he's no pushover." Doris pulled a second lever. This time it was steel javelins the launchers disgorged. All of the first ten bounced off him, but the eleventh and final javelin pierced the Count's abdomen.

"I got him!" Doris exclaimed, squeezing the lever so hard she threatened to break it. What froze her smile was the way the temporarily motionless Count gave a horrible grin before he resumed his deliberate stride, the steel javelin still protruding from his stomach and back.

The bastard's trying to tell me he doesn't even need his force field to stop my attacks!

It felt like an icy paw of fear was stirring her brains as Doris suddenly realized that there was no need for a vampire to "go get" a former victim. For those who'd felt the kiss of blood on their neck but once, a single word from a fiend outside their door would suffice to call them out into the waiting arms of Death. That was precisely the sort of thing D was guarding against when he rendered her unconscious the first time she had unwanted guests.

"He's toying with me!" Doris pushed and pulled levers like a woman possessed. So long as nothing pierced its heart, a vampire would not die. Though undoubtedly aware of this immutable fact, seeing the fearsome power in action with her own two eyes had completely robbed the girl of the cool judgment the daughter of a skilled Hunter should possess. She was robbed of her reason by the same fear that slumbered in all mortals, the fear of unknowable darkness.

Machine guns concealed in the shrubbery spat fire, and explosive-tipped arrows set aflame by a lens on the solar storage unit fell like rain.

Through the oily smoke, the fiery explosions, and the deafening roar that surrounded him, the Count grinned. It was clear this was the stiffest resistance humanity could currently offer. Their kind remained on earth, tough as cockroaches, while his species slid silently and inevitably toward extinction, dwindling like the light of the setting sun.

Suddenly, his anger flared, consuming all the admiration he'd felt for the resistance his prey offered. His eyes became flame. As he gnashed his naked fangs together, the Count dashed to the porch, took the stairs in a single leap, yanked the javelin from his abdomen, and heaved the weapon at the door. The door burst off its hinges and toppled into the house. Beyond the door hung a black, iron netting. The instant he heedlessly thrust the steel javelin into it to sweep it out of his way, there was a flash at the point of contact, and the Count felt a violent burning sensation flowing into his body through the hand he had around the weapon, For the first time, the flesh beneath his black raiment shuddered in agony, and his hair stood on end. The vampire's accursed regenerative abilities did their best to counteract the vicious electric shock, and then set to adjusting the molecular arrangement of the cells that needed to be removed. The shock he received came from a transformer that converted energy collected in the solar panels on the roof by day into a high-tension load of fifty-thousand volts. Even as he felt his cells charred and nerves destroyed by the precipitous electrical shock, the Count swung the javelin. With a parting gift of fresh agony and a shower of sparks, the conductive net of interlaced wire tore and fell to the floor.

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