23 Hours: A Vengeful Vampire Tale

25.

They walked Clara, very slowly, to the central command center of the prison, a round room located on the top level of the facility’s main building. Broad windows let in a little light, but far more came from dozens of flickering security monitors, most of them displaying empty hallways and locked doors. Every few seconds the view on each screen would change, or pan back and forth to show another section of the prison. On one screen Clara saw a view of B Dorm. It looked like the prisoners had mostly turned in for the night, though a few were still pacing their cells, obviously concerned about what the next day would bring.

Around the central command center a skeleton crew of half-deads were bent over control panels and computer terminals, monitoring the prison’s security systems. The largest number of them were gathered around a monitor at the far end of the room, where they pointed at the screen and giggled among themselves.

On the screen, Laura was standing next to a woman Clara didn’t recognize. They were both staring at something intensely, something just above their heads.

Clara’s heart sank when she saw her lover there. She had known Laura was at large in the prison, but she’d been able to imagine her crawling through ventilation ducts or hiding in some out-of-the-way spot—she could imagine Laura somewhere safe. From the grainy low-resolution image on the screen, however, she could tell that Laura had been putting herself in danger. As always. Her face was stained with blood or something darker and her clothes were spotted with gore.

Clara turned away from the screen. She couldn’t look at Laura anymore, or her heart would start breaking all over again.

In the center of the room a video camera had been mounted on a tripod. Malvern led Clara in front of the camera while the warden stepped over to operate its controls. For a while they just stood there, while the camera’s lens zoomed in and out. The warden cursed and adjusted a lever on the side of the camera.

“Dawn approaches,” Malvern said. “Make haste.”

“This isn’t my specialty,” the warden explained, and pressed a button near the front of the camera. Then she cursed and tried another. A red light lit up on the front of the camera, which meant it was recording.

Clara looked out the windows and saw that a smudge of dark blue was fighting with the black night sky. The sun would rise any minute, and when it did she knew that Malvern would have to be back in her coffin. Vampires weren’t burned by the light of the sun, but at the moment of dawn each day they died once again, inevitably, no matter how strong or old or clever they might be. Their bodies liquefied inside their coffins, their tissues breaking down so they could repair any damage taken during the night.

“Give her the placard,” Malvern insisted.

The warden leaned around the camera to hand Clara a piece of paper that read 23 HOURS. Clara held it in front of her. Malvern was holding her arm, and Clara knew if she didn’t do as she was bid it would take no effort at all for the vampire to snap her bones like matchsticks.

“Very well, now end it,” Malvern directed.

“Yeah, yeah,” the warden said, and flipped a switch. The red light blinked off. “You know, you don’t have to be so cryptic. Twenty-three hours, fine, that’s an hour before dawn tomorrow, but what happens then? You didn’t explain at all. And what use is making a threat if you don’t even tell her what you want? There are loudspeakers in every room of the prison. We can broadcast your terms over and over, make sure Caxton gets the message.”

“Don’t question me, woman,” Malvern said, her usual convivial tone audibly cooling down. “Laura will know what I expect of her. Some games are best played in silence. Such as—”

“Fine, I’ve got it,” the warden said. “Whist must be a hell of a game, I’m sure. Listen, there’s still time before dawn, if you wanted to pass the curse on to me. That way I could be by your side tomorrow night, when Caxton comes gunning for you.”

“Play this message on the screen Laura is watching,” Malvern ordered, ignoring the warden’s plea. The half-deads around the security monitors jumped to attention and started tapping commands onto computer keyboards. “Play it again and again until we’re sure she’s seen it. You lot,” she said, “ready my coffin. The time has come. While I slumber, see ye mind her as you would me.” She gathered herself up and prepared to leave.

“Wait,” the warden said.

Malvern turned, a cold, imperious look in her eye.

“Please,” the warden said. “You made me a promise. I’ve carried out your plan well, haven’t I? I’ve done everything you asked.”

“And ye shall be rewarded. In due time. When Caxton is mine, ye shall—”

“Fuck Caxton!” the warden shrieked. “She’s never going to do what you want. She’ll never be what you want her to be. Focusing on her is a ridiculous mistake!”

What happened next was impossible for the human eye to follow.

Clara felt as if someone had hit her elbow with a baseball bat. Malvern had run across the room without letting go of Clara’s arm first. The pain was intense. Even worse, as her arm flew up in response, the alarm on her electroshock restraint went off. It blared out a warning tone so loud it made her vision go dim. She froze in place, knowing that if she remained motionless for a second the stun package wouldn’t fire and she wouldn’t be sent into convulsions.

The camera on its tripod went flying across the room, clanging against a chair and knocking a half-dead to the floor. And then Malvern was standing right next to the warden, holding her by the throat.

“Ye come to me as a supplicant, begging the greatest gift any of your kind may receive,” Malvern said, very softly. “Ye call me your mistress, and beg to offer me your fealty. And then ye question my decisions.”

The warden tried to say something, but all that emerged from her throat was a choking gasp.

“Are ye really so impatient,” Malvern asked, “to come to my favor? To take on my form? Let us see.”

The vampire needed only one hand to hold the warden in place. She brought up her other hand and laid the ball of her thumb against the warden’s eye. “I am not your friend,” Malvern said, “nor your partner yet. I am your liege.” Then she shoved her thumb into the warden’s eye socket.

The human woman managed to scream as blood and vitreous fluid ran down her cheek. Malvern kept pressing until the warden’s face turned purple and her remaining eye rolled up in her head. Then she dropped the warden to the floor.

Clara could only watch, and slowly bring her arm down, careful not to activate the alarm on her restraint. She didn’t want to do anything to draw attention to herself.

“There will be no rebellion in my lair,” Malvern said. “Cleanse her wound, and pack it with linen.” A half-dead rushed to the door of the command center, where a first-aid kit was clipped to the wall. It brought bandages and antiseptic to treat the warden’s ruined face.

“You… why?” the warden moaned, clutching her cheek. Her fingers moved up to probe where her eye had been. When she found nothing there she screamed again. “You didn’t have to do that! Now I’ll spend eternity looking like a freak!”

Malvern glared down at her. “Looking as I do, ye mean. I think it well. But perhaps ye’d like more hurts to remember me by? I could pluck out your tongue, ye who think it best to blare my intentions to every corner of this place. I could tear the ears from your head, or pull your nose into a new shape. Would ye like that?”

The warden shook her head violently. She fought away the hands of the half-dead who was trying to staunch her bleeding and grabbed the bandages away from it. “No, of course not. No. That is to say… I. I’m sorry. I forgot myself. For a second.” She paused to shriek as she dabbed at her eye with the antiseptic cream. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Not if ye wish to survive ’til morning comes.” Malvern glanced up at the windows. “Now. I really must away. Ye’ll keep our hostage at her ease, I trust.”

“Of course,” the warden said, slowly rising to her feet.