Nosferatu

THE PRESENT PROLOGUE

The room was dimly lit by a single low-wattage bulb set beneath the tattered shade of an old lamp sitting in the center of the large, oaken table that dominated the room. The table was oval, stretching ten feet in length and five in width, and its top was marked and scarred by centuries of use. Four large wing armchairs were spaced evenly around the table. They were cushioned and covered in well-worn black leather. The curved outer wall was smoothly cut sandstone, breached only by a single door made of thick planks of weathered wood, bound with iron spikes to a diagonal crossbeam.

Three figures occupied chairs, leaving one empty. There were no papers in front of them, no laptops, hand-helds, or any other electronic device in the room other than the single light and a large flat-screen display set in front of the empty chair, facing the other three. The faces of the three were hidden in the shadows of their high-backed chairs and the only way for each to determine who was speaking was from accent and direction.

“Gentlemen, I welcome you to the Haven.” The voice was low yet powerful, easily carrying from the chair opposite the door across the polished oak tabletop from the others. The accent was indeterminate, an amalgamation of numerous languages warped over the ages into speaking English.

The voice continued. “We have waited a long time, a very long time, for this day. The Airlia have been defeated by the humans. Both sides. The two alien leaders, Aspasia and Artad, are dead. Quite remarkable and more fortuitous than I had ever hoped. They who made us and hate us are gone. It is our time now.”

The man leaned forward, revealing a narrow face, white hair, and dark eyes with the slightest hint of red in them. When the dim light struck them a certain way the pupils appeared to be slightly elongated. Despite the white hair, his skin was smooth and alabaster, as if it had never seen the light of day or the grim hand of time. He wore a flowing robe of soft gray cloth.

His voice deepened as he spoke. “I was made Nosferatu in the First Age of Egypt, before the dawn of history as recorded by the humans, the child of Horus the Airlia and a human High Consort. I have lived for over ten millennia waiting for the time when those who made us would be defeated and we would not have to live in fear of them.” He looked around the table. “This is the first time the three of us have been together in the same place at the same time. I thank you for answering my summons. With the Airlia gone we are the eldest and most powerful species on the planet.”

Nosferatu paused, the words sinking into the sandstone, replaced by utter silence. Nosferatu indicated that the man to the screen’s right should speak next.

The voice spoke English like a song, the Chinese background unmistakable. “I am Tian Dao Lin.” He leaned forward, revealing Oriental features and a bald, liver-spotted scalp. He wore a black silk robe with a single red dragon embroidered on each loose sleeve. “I was made underneath the great mountain tomb Qian-Ling by Artad himself in consort with a sacrificial girl well before even the dynasty of Shi Huangdi, the first true Emperor of the Middle Kingdom.” He turned toward Nosferatu. “We met many, many years ago, a most fascinating story that I will tell you if you wish”—he glanced at the third occupant of the room— “but at another time and place as we are here for business.” Tian Dao Lin leaned back in his seat.

The third person in the room waited a few seconds before speaking. Then he stood, a formidable figure, over six and a half feet in height and as erect as a soldier on parade. His skin was pale, his face perfectly smooth and unlined except for a single scar down the left side from the edge of the eye to the edge of his mouth. He had a prominent nose, giving him the appearance of a hunting hawk. His eyes were slanted, though not as much as Tian Dao Lin’s, and his long red hair flowed over his shoulders. He was dressed in black pants and shirt made of some soft material that absorbed what little light there was in the room.

“I too was made by Artad in consort with a human girl, but long after you, Tian Dao Lin. The name I choose others to know me as now is Adrik. I have — as have both of you — been called by many other names over the years. I am here to find out this business that the Eldest, Nosferatu, proposes.”

Adrik retook his seat.

Nosferatu placed his fingers lightly on the edge of the table as if keeping himself balanced. “As you both know, we have a stronger genetic link with the humans than with the Airlia. We look like them and can even pass as human. It is our blood — the Airlia blood that runs through our veins — that makes us different from humans and has kept us alive through the ages.”

Nosferatu continued. “The Airlia are gone. The Ones Who Wait — who were in a way brethren to us but under the thrall of Artad and manufactured, not bred — are also gone as far as can be determined. Aspasia’s Shadow, who meddled many times with us, is dead and his guides ineffective since the humans took over and destroyed the Master Guardian, effectively shutting down all the subordinate Guardian computers upon which the Guides relied.

“It is a new age.”

Nosferatu paused and looked around the table, waiting. He knew there were different agendas here and he wanted to know what they were before he got to his.

Tian Dao Lin was the first to speak. “A new age, but the humans believe it is their age now. I do not think they will treat us any better than the Airlia or their minions did. We may look like them but we are most definitely not the same. And what we have had to do over the many years to remain alive — while there are small cults that worship the vampire legend, the majority of humans fear and despise even our myth. I think their reaction to the reality if it is revealed will be much more severe and unforgiving.”

“That is why I changed my manner of feeding many years ago,” Nosferatu noted.

“I do not kill anymore to get my sustenance.”

Adrik dissented. “We are superior to humans. It is the natural order that we feed from them. Your distinction means nothing.”

It meant something to the victim, Nosferatu thought, but he didn’t give voice to the words.

“We have all done well over the years,” Tian Dao Lin continued, ignoring the Russian. “Each of us controls vast wealth and power from the shadows. Why should we do anything differently?”

“Because the world is a different place now,” Nosferatu said. “Even the two of you acknowledge that by coming to this meeting, something we have never done before. There are new opportunities now. And new dangers.”

“Why did Vampyr not come here then?” Adrik demanded. “Did you not invite him?”

“I invited him,” Nosferatu replied.

“Then why is he not here?” Adrik asked once more.

“You seem quite concerned about Vampyr,” Nosferatu said. “Do you fear him?” Adrik leapt to his feet. “I fear no one.”

“Please sit.” Nosferatu glanced at the Chinese, who was watching Adrik closely. “I meant you no disrespect. I am the Eldest and I fear Vampyr. He is powerful and dangerous.”

“You said new opportunities,” Tian Dao Lin said. “Do you mean the Grail and immortality?”

“It would be most fortuitous to get the Grail,” Nosferatu said. “However, my sources tell me it was destroyed when the mothership was crashed into the array on Mars by Dr. Duncan. Whom I met many years ago under a different name.”

“Donnchadh.” Adrik spit the name out like a curse. “Lisa Duncan, most recently. Among the many aliases she used in her reincarnations over the years. A troublesome human if ever there was one.”

“She freed me from the Airlia long ago,” Nosferatu noted.

“For her own reasons, I am sure,” Adrik said.

“But are you certain the Grail was destroyed?” Tian Dao Lin pressed, cutting off Adrik. “My sources believe the same thing, but I have heard that those from Area 51 brought some artifacts back from Mars on board Donnchadh’s spaceship.”

“It is slightly possible,” Nosferatu granted, “that they brought the Grail back, but I very much doubt it.”

Tian Dao Lin lapsed into silence, waiting.

Adrik spoke up. “I agree with Nosferatu, the Eldest, on one key point. I do not think we will ever be accepted by the humans. Therefore, I propose we do not ask to be accepted by the humans.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “I propose we rule them.”

There were several moments of silence following Adrik’s proposal. Finally, Nosferatu voiced the objection he knew Tian Dao Lin was thinking. “Ruling would force us into the open. Even with the great power and influence we have amassed over the years, we would still be vulnerable. We have all seen great and powerful rulers over the ages who were destroyed. We have just witnessed the humans defeat the Airlia, something I would not have thought possible. We should not underestimate them. And there have been attempts by Undead, particularly Vampyr, and you”—he stared at Adrik—“to rule before and all have failed.”

“It depends on what you mean by failure,” Adrik argued. “I had magnificent successes in many places. Names I have used are in the human history books as great leaders.”

“But you could never maintain your kingdoms; nor could Vampyr,” Nosferatu noted.

“So you say we stay in the shadows still?” Adrik demanded. “Let our fortunes and fates go with the flow of mankind? At least when the Airlia ruled through their minions we had some degree of assurance that there would be a world left for us to live in. Humans, on their own”—he shook his head—“they will destroy themselves, and us with them. We are wiser, more experienced. It would be in their interest for us to dictate their course.”

“And when we feed?” Tian Dao Lin quietly asked. “If we could have partaken of the Grail and become immortal without the need to drink blood, then I would say perhaps we could rule. But without that, do you think the humans would be so obliging as to give us bodies to feed on?”

Adrik shrugged. “They could give us their worst criminals — the humans kill thousands themselves in punishment. Your own China chops off how many heads each year. And for those who feel the kill is not necessary”—he glanced disdainfully toward Nosferatu—“there is always a way to get blood without killing.”

“We are only a handful,” Tian Dao Lin said. “Even with our money and influence…” He trailed off into silence.

“Why have you brought us here then?” Adrik demanded of Nosferatu. “Surely you had a reason.”

Nosferatu nodded. “I had two reasons. I called you here to discuss what we should do first before we can accomplish anything else, including trying to rule the humans.”

Nosferatu got to his feet and walked over to an ancient armoire, opening its wooden doors to reveal a small stainless-steel door. He slid it up and removed three flasks also made of unmarked steel resting in specially made cradles that kept the contents warm. He carried them back to the table, placing one in front of each man before taking his seat with the third. He unscrewed the lid and lifted it to his lips, tilting the flask and drinking deeply for several seconds before putting it back on the table. There was a faint trace of red on his lips, which he dabbed away with a silk handkerchief. When he was done his face was flushed, his eyes glittering with increased power.

He indicated the other flasks. “It’s tested: clean, pure, relatively fresh, and kept at body temperature. Imbibe, my friends. There is much I have to talk to you about.”

The other two drank and Nosferatu waited until they were done. Then he tapped the flask. “This is our sustenance and it is our greatest weakness. We are half-breeds. We have some Airlia blood, but not enough to sustain us without constant nourishment of human blood for it. We drink human blood because we have to in order to stay alive.”

“You tell us what we have all known since the beginning,” Adrik grumbled. “You knew it from the beginning?” Nosferatu challenged him. “I was entombed for much longer than you by the Airlia Gods themselves, and knew practically nothing. I’ve known about the Grail and the promise of immortality from the beginning, but I didn’t know exactly how it gave eternal life. It is only because the science of the humans has advanced so far that we have an idea of how we have managed to live so long.”

He placed one finger against the engorged vein on his wrist. “We have a virus in our blood. An Airlia virus. It helps our cells regenerate when they should die. However, we’re half-breeds. So we don’t have enough of the virus for it to be self-sustaining. Thus, we must”—he reached forward and plinked a fingernail against the steel flask—“drink human blood to feed and sustain the Airlia virus. The Grail — if we had it — would purify our blood, injecting the Airlia virus, making the virus dominant and self-sustaining just as it is — or was — in the Airlia themselves. We would no longer need to drink human blood for sustenance.”

Nosferatu waited. As he expected, Tian Dao Lin, with his obsession for the Grail, was the first to grasp the significance of this. “If we had more of the virus…”

Nosferatu nodded. “If we could somehow — without the lost Grail — cross the threshold to where the virus is self-sustaining, we would be, in effect, immortal. We would not need to drink human blood anymore and we would have the benefits of the Airlia virus’s ability to replicate, which means even if killed, we would come back to life as it quickly regenerated us.”

“But there are no more Airlia,” Tian Dao Lin said. “You started this meeting saying that. So there is no more virus except what we already have in our veins.”

Nosferatu shook his head. “The Airlia are gone, but there are sources of Airlia virus we can recover.”

“‘We’?” Adrik repeated. “Why do you need us?”

A good question, Nosferatu thought. One he knew that Tian Dao Lin was thinking but had not voiced. “Because we would not be the only ones trying to get this blood.”

“Vampyr.” Tian Dao Lin said it as a statement, not a question.

Nosferatu pressed a button under the tabletop and the screen came alive with an image. The man pictured was similar in appearance to Nosferatu, but his hair was dyed jet-black and he wore a pair of sleek sunglasses that hid his eyes. He wore an expensive suit of black, with a black shirt and tie completing the image. He was standing on the wide stairs of some building, perhaps a symphony hall, looking out over the night crowd.

“I have known him a long time,” Nosferatu said, staring at the screen. “He was made Vampyr, also in the First Age of Egypt, the son of the Airlia Amun and a High Consort, along with his twin sister Lilith. She died most horribly at the hands of the Airlia while Vampyr and I watched. He swore revenge then against both Airlia and humans, who so blindly followed them and helped kill her.”

“He is very powerful,” Tian Dao Lin said. Nosferatu nodded. “He too has gone by many names over the years and has wielded much power from the shadows. We have met several times, even as allies long ago. But now that the Airlia are gone, I fear what he will do next.”

“You fear or you know?” Tian Dao Lin asked.

“I have had some reports,” Nosferatu acknowledged vaguely. He stared at the image on the screen. “I have known Vampyr for millennia, from the first day he swore vengeance, and his rage has not abated over the years, but rather grown. He has done many terrible things through the ages and”—Nosferatu paused, then reluctantly continued—“now that the constraint of the Airlia and their minions is gone the only real threat he has is in this room.”

“So that is why you brought us here,” Tian Dao Lin said. “You need allies against Vampyr.”

“Yes,” Nosferatu said, “but also remember that we are sources of the Airlia virus also, and I have no doubt Vampyr has plans to gather our blood also.” “He would kill his own?” Adrik asked.

“Vampyr does what he wills, whenever he wants,” Nosferatu said. “If he decides he wants our blood, he will let nothing stand in his way.”

“But you would not take his blood,” Tian Dao Lin noted. “So what other sources of Airlia blood are there?”

Nosferatu leaned back in his chair. He glanced at Adrik. “As you are well aware, the SS screened vast amounts of blood in their concentration camps, searching for any that might be special, although they didn’t know exactly what was special about it. The SS was corrupted by the Mission and Aspasia’s Shadow, who were seeking traces of the Airlia blood as he finally knew why it was important. He used a blood ceremony for initiation into the SS. During that ceremony, top members of the SS received minute portions of the virus, most likely that which Aspasia’s Shadow recovered from the Ones Who Wait, whom he killed.

“That is why Dr. Von Seeckt, who eventually ended up on the American Majestic-12 committee, managed to live so long and survive his illness as long as he did. As did other Nazis who escaped after the war.”

“I know of what you speak,” Adrik said. “But I lost track of that blood at the end of the war. For a while I thought the Mission moved it to South America via the Odessa link.”

Nosferatu shook his head. “No. The ceremony was held at the SS castle at Wevelsburg in Bavaria and the blood was stored there. As the Americans closed in on it at the end of the Second World War, it was your Russians who sent in a parachute team to recover what they could. They brought everything they found back to Moscow, including the blood.

“Not only that,” Nosferatu continued, “but a part of Section IV from the KGB— the Russian equivalent of America’s Majestic-12—knew from the Nazi documents that a particular strain of blood was important and began to see if it could find more. Deep under Moscow, there is a chamber that contains what Aspasia’s Shadow brought to the SS and what was scavenged out of the concentration camps by the SS and by the KGB during the Cold War from prisoners at Lubyanka and in the Gulags. If you agree, it will be your job”—he inclined his head toward Adrik—“to use your resources to recover this. I believe you have the power to do it.”

Adrik made no commitment, waiting to see what else the Eldest had to propose. “Two.” Nosferatu held up another finger. “The Ones Who Wait. They were like us — half-human, half-Airlia — except cloned. They had some of the virus, which accounted for their extended lives. I know where we can find some of their bodies. Intact and preserved.” He turned to Tian Dao Lin. “This will be your responsibility, my old friend.”

“And where would I find these preserved bodies?” Tian Dao Lin quietly asked. “Mount Everest. Where Merlin took the great sword Excalibur so many years ago. Several Ones Who Wait were recently sent by Artad to recover the sword and failed. Their bodies are still up there. Frozen. Three of them.”

Tian Dao Lin steepled his fingers as he considered this.

“And the third source?” Adrik asked.

“That is most important and most difficult to get to,” Nosferatu said. “Pure Airlia blood. Preserved. Waiting to be harvested.”

“Where?”Tian Dao Lin was leaning forward, his interest obvious. Adrik was also edging forward in his chair.

Nosferatu pointed up. “The first mothership from Area 51. Aspasia’s. The one the human soldier Turcotte destroyed when Aspasia tried to return to Earth from Mars aboard his Talon spacecraft.”

“How will one get to that?” Adrik asked. “The American shuttle fleet was devastated during the recent war and it is not likely they would kindly allow us to use one anyway. Russia’s ability to launch a manned mission into orbit is practically nonexistent after recent events.”

“I have something in the works,” Nosferatu said.

The other two waited. Nosferatu pressed a button. Vampyr’s face disappeared from the computer screen and was replaced by a picture of a stubby, delta wing craft on top of a large rocket. “The X–Craft,” Nosferatu said. “A reusable, two-man, orbital vehicle. The launch platform is an Ariana 4 rocket. The X–Craft has thrusters for maneuvering in orbit, and it can land on any landing strip that can take a 747. One of my subsidiaries has been developing it for over twenty-five years. We’ve dropped it from altitude — manned — and successfully landed it. The only thing we haven’t done yet is launch one into orbit.”

Tian Dao Lin frowned. “The Americans only destroyed the mothership a month ago.”

Nosferatu smiled. “My original plan — before recent events — was eventually to have a manned mission go to Mars. The X–Craft was the first step to a second generation of craft built in orbit capable of reaching Mars, landing, and getting to Aspasia and the other Airlia in deep sleep there at Cydonia.” His eyes shifted to Tian Dao Lin. “Along with a simultaneous expedition into Qian-Ling to reach and destroy Artad and his followers. I estimated that both missions would be possible in twenty years and we might be able to defeat the Airlia while they slept. Recent events have caused me to adjust my plans and my timetable, with the follow-on objective becoming the number one priority.”

Tian Dao Lin chuckled. “That is why you had me pull strings to get Professor Che Lu permission to enter Qian-Ling when it had been forbidden for so long. I knew you had something long-range in mind.”

“I have been planning for thousands of years,” Nosferatu said. “But the technology was never sufficient. However, in the past fifty years or so human technology has advanced greatly. And the fortuitous events of the past year now allow us unprecedented opportunity with much less risk much sooner than I had anticipated.”

“The Airlia who died on the Talons inside the mother-ship’s cargo bay would have bled out into space,” Adrik argued.

“Most of their blood, yes,” Nosferatu agreed. “However, I have had simulations and experiments done and they indicate there would be some residual blood left in the bodies. Not much, but if enough bodies were harvested, there would be a sufficient supply to make it worth gathering, especially as it would be pure.” “Even if we recover all this blood, pure and mixed,” Adrik asked, “how will we be able to extract the Airlia virus, then purify our blood with it? How will we get rid of the human portion of our blood? And the human portion in the Ones Who Wait and the blood gathered by the SS and KGB?”

“The Americans have done us a favor in that regard,” Nosferatu said. “They were delving into this very problem at the secret Majestic-12 lab in Dulce, New Mexico, where the former Nazi, General Hemstadt, was working after the war under the auspices of Operation Paperclip. One of his projects was perfecting a blood-purifying device, most likely on orders from Aspasia’s Shadow and the Mission and under the cover of AIDS research.

“This machine removes all of a person’s blood and replaces it with a freezing solution that cleanses the circulatory system completely. While this is happening, the body is chilled to keep it viable. Then the machine injects the new, already warmed blood and the body is brought back to normal temperature. The entire process lasts only about three minutes. The subject’s blood is replaced one hundred percent.”

“Dulce was destroyed,” Adrik noted.

“Recovery of the device will be my task,” Nosferatu said flatly.

“And if we agree to help you and recover all this Airlia blood virus?” Adrik asked. “What do we do with it?”

“I estimate that we will have enough to make four Undead immortals,” Nosferatu said.

“You would give the fourth to Vampyr?” Adrik asked. “No,” Nosferatu said flatly.

“There are only four Undead still in existence,” Adrik said. “No,” Nosferatu said, “there are five.”

Adrik absorbed this startling bit of information with a sharp glance at Tian Dao Lin.

“There is another Undead here at the Haven now,” Tian Dao Lin said. “Who is this?” Adrik frowned. “Where is he?”

“She sleeps,” Nosferatu said simply. “Who is she?” Adrik demanded.

“That is not your business,” Nosferatu replied.

“Why not make a deal with Vampyr with the blood for the fourth?” Adrik suggested.

“As I said, the fourth is accounted for,” Nosferatu said.

Adrik folded his arms. “I will tell you what I believe. I think you knew you could only recover enough blood for four and you invited Vampyr here first and when he declined, then you invited me. If Vampyr had accepted, I would have been the unlucky fifth.”

Nosferatu met the other’s gaze and the two stared at each other for a long minute.

“What about the Watchers?” Tian Dao Lin asked, an abrupt change in subject. “The Watchers are defunct,” Nosferatu said, still staring at Adrik.

“All of them?” Tian Dao Lin pressed. “Including the Watcher-Hunters?” Nosferatu shrugged. “There might be some of them left, but they are only a nuisance. They consider taking a quarter a great success, which is all they have ever achieved these many years. Any that ever came close to any of us perished.”

“And Vampyr?” Adrik asked. “You said he will be pursuing these same things to get the blood?”

“Yes,” Nosferatu said.

“That is why you really need us,” Adrik said. “To fight Vampyr.”

“Yes,” Nosferatu admitted. “With my X-craft, I believe I can recover enough blood from the Airlia bodies on the mothership to make two of us immortal. So I could achieve this without the two of you. But I think it would be wise for us to band together.

“I can assure you that if Vampyr recovers the Airlia blood, he will not share it with you,” Nosferatu said. “He cares for nothing other than his vengeance. Without the Airlia and their followers to hold him in check, I fear he will go after the blood and, in the process, destroy us.” Nosferatu stood. “I believe we are headed for the final confrontation. Please reflect on the situation and let me know your decision when I return.”

Nosferatu went out through the heavy wooden door, swinging it shut behind him. He walked down stone steps, deeper into his lair. Nosferatu came to a steel door. On one side was a retinal scanner and he pressed his eyes to it. When the computer recognized his pattern, the door’s bolts withdrew and it slowly swung open.

The room he walked into was a crypt. In the center was a raised platform upon which rested a black metal tube. Surrounding the tube were dozens of plants and small trees, a veritable oasis of greenery underground.

Nosferatu went up to the tube, placing his hands gently on the lid. He leaned forward until his head was next to the front. Inside was the fourth Undead at Haven.

“Soon, my love,” he whispered. “Soon we will finally be together forever.”

The girl had never been in a helicopter before. She was seventeen and had been working the streets for only a month. So far the experience had been quite terrible, but things looked like they were taking a change for the better, much better to judge by the luxurious interior of the aircraft. She had the entire back to herself, the pilots shielded from her by a dark glass partition. The windows were also blacked out and it didn’t occur to her to wonder why. She was too interested in the leather captain’s chairs, the state-of-the-art stereo system, and other accoutrements that adorned the passenger compartment.

The man in the limousine, claiming to represent someone very rich, had picked her up off the street over four hours earlier, just after dark. Instead of a hotel, he’d taken her to a clinic, where a silent doctor had examined her. Two thousand in cash up front had been enough for the girl to allow herself to be poked and prodded and two samples of her blood taken and tested. Along with the promise of another eight thousand for the rest of the night if she passed all the tests.

Apparently she had, as she was given a pair of expensive slacks, with matching top, along with low-heeled shoes to put on. Then she was hustled back into the limousine, driven to the airport, and loaded onto the helicopter. The man who had picked her up had told her nothing more than the amount she was being paid when he put her on board and shut the door behind her. She’d felt a moment of anxiety then, but the wad of cash in her cheap purse, the only thing of hers she still had, had put that feeling at bay. This was much safer, in her opinion, than the front seat of some of the cars she had climbed into during the past month.

The sound of the helicopter’s engines picked up slightly and she felt her stomach flutter as the aircraft descended. It landed with a slight bump. The door slid open and one of the pilots stood before her, gesturing for her to get out. She climbed out and was surprised to step into knee-high grass. The pilot slid the door shut, then climbed back in the front.

The girl looked around. She was in the middle of a small field, barely big enough for the helicopter to land in, surrounded by tall trees and the blackness of the space underneath their branches.

“Hey!” she called out. She went to the pilot’s door and banged on it with an open palm.

In response the engines whined and the blades picked up speed, blasting her with cool night wind. She backed away and held her hand in front of her eyes to protect them as the helicopter lifted straight up, then disappeared, the sound slowly fading away.

After a minute all she could hear was her own rapid breathing as she turned slowly in a circle, searching for any sign of civilization, a road, a building, anything. But there were only the trees.

“Hello?” she cried out. “Hello?”

Silence. Total, absolute silence, which truly frightened her. She’d grown up on a farm fifty miles outside of Seattle and been out camping with her friends several times. The girl knew there were always sounds in the forest. Birds. Insects. Animals. Something was always making some kind of sound. But here there was nothing, as if there was nothing living within miles other than the vegetation. It was unnatural.

The girl took a step back, then spun about, fearing someone sneaking up from behind. The trees were huge. Old forest, hundreds, maybe thousands of years old, that the environmentalists were always campaigning to save. She had no clue where she was. They hadn’t been in the air that long. Fifteen minutes? “Hello?” she cried out, her voice cracking halfway through the word.

“Please.”

The girl took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself, but succeeded only in nearly hyperventilating. She went down to her knees, not caring that the designer slacks she had marveled over not so long ago were getting stained by the grass. She clasped her hands over her mouth, trying to bring her breathing under control. After several minutes, somewhat back to normal, she got to her feet and took a closer look at her surroundings, as much as she could see given that the moon had not yet risen. She looked up at the small patch of night sky above, then she looked down.

The ground sloped, presenting her with a choice. Go up or down? She looked at the dark wall of forest that surrounded her. Or stay in the clearing until daylight?

She started as she realized there was someone standing on the edge of the clearing to her right. How long had he been there? she wondered as she took several steps away from him. And why hadn’t he answered her calls?

“Hello? Sir?”

She could make out little detail, but he appeared to be dressed all in black. Pants, shirt, long, flowing coat. With dark hair and white skin. Very white skin that almost seemed to shine, as if lit from within. She took another step away from him.

“Sir? Could you help me? Please?” Was this some sort of bizarre sex game? she wondered. Was she supposed to do something? The man in the limousine hadn’t told her anything, and neither the doctor nor the pilot had spoken a word. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

The man held up a hand, indicating for her to remain still. The man came forward until he was less than five feet from her, just out of arm’s reach. She tried to smile and stood slightly straighter, thrusting her chest out. She would do anything to make it through this night, she told herself. And she silently promised to get the hell out of Seattle and go back to her hometown on the first thing moving as soon as she was back in civilization.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked once more. “Run.”

The voice as much as the word sent a chill up her spine. She had never heard such a cold voice.

“What?”

“Run or I will kill you here. You have a chance in the woods.” Then he laughed.

She turned and sprinted for the forest, losing a shoe in the first five feet and not even noticing.

The man remained in the clearing, watching as she disappeared among the thick tree trunks. He gave her a few minutes, knowing the running would get her heart pounding and the blood coursing through her veins.

He cocked his head, listening to her crash through the undergrowth. She was easy enough to track by sound, even without the benefit of his exaggerated night vision. He started after her. He silently made his way through the forest, passing her without being noticed, then moving to a point where she would come shortly.

The shock on her face when she bumped into him was exquisite. She gasped, staggered back, then dashed off in another direction. As she ran off, he put a hand to his jacket and touched where her sweat and tears had made a small wet spot. He rubbed it with the tip of a finger, then brought that finger to his nose, inhaling. He smiled at the familiar scent of human fear.

He intercepted her five more times over the course of the next three hours. Sending her blindly off into the forest each time, redirecting her. She was moving more and more slowly, but still moving. He’d had some just quit. Drop to the ground and curl in a ball whimpering. Such were almost not worth taking. Almost.

An hour before dawn, the girl came out of the forest, emerging onto a perfectly cut lawn. She fell to her knees as she looked about. The moon was finally up, and she could see a magnificent house about fifty meters ahead. A mansion stretching almost a hundred meters left and right, sitting on a promontory overlooking Puget Sound. She could see the lights of Seattle beyond the house, on the other side of the water. The Space Needle. Her hometown was beyond the city, in the mountains. It was a beautiful night, a clear sky, and she could see the white-topped peaks.

She scrambled to her feet, crying out for help. She ran toward a wooden door set at ground level and pounded on it, screaming, looking over her shoulder, afraid he would appear at the last minute.

The door swung open and she threw herself into the arms of the figure in the darkened hallway.

Then screamed as she recognized her momentary savior as her pursuer.

He held her tight as she fought to break free with the little energy she had left. He leaned his head close to hers, his breath on her neck as he whispered to her, like a lover would.

“I was made Vampyr, in the First Age of Egypt, during the reign of the Gods, when they walked openly upon the Earth, the son of the God Amun and a human High Consort. I bring you honor by taking you.”

And then he did just that.

Minutes later Vampyr looked down on her pale corpse.

With one arm he lifted her and carried her a short way down the tunnel to a two-foot-square iron door set at waist height. He opened the door and threw the body in, listening to it tumble as it fell down the old mine shaft for over three hundred feet before landing with a splash in a flooded cavern. He shut the door.

Then he made his way farther along the tunnel, stopping at a stainless-steel door. He placed his forehead against a rubber buffer, pressing his eyes against the scanners. His retinas were checked. Then he entered a code only he knew on a numeric keypad, his fingers flying over the keys faster than any human could ever hope to imitate, entering twenty-seven numbers in the appropriate sequence in less than four seconds. Last, but not least, he removed what appeared to be an old-fashioned key from a chain around his neck and inserted it in the keyhole. While the key looked old, it was state-of-the-art, sending the correct electrical impulse to the last hold on the door’s locks.

With muted clicks, the fourteen two-inch-thick steel bolts holding the door in place retracted and the door slowly swung open on powerful hydraulic arms. The chamber beyond was surrounded by twelve-foot-thick mixed metal/concrete walls. The builder had assured Vampyr that there was no technology short of a direct nuclear hit that could get through these walls. It was similar to what lined the presidential bunker under Blue Mountain in West Virginia. Vampyr had thanked the builder, then had him killed.

Vampyr walked into the chamber and turned on the low-level lights. The contents of the chamber were a madman’s — or a powerful country’s — arsenal. Eight backpack tactical nuclear weapons rested on a long table. Each was small enough to fit inside a medium-sized piece of luggage. The American government had never acknowledged their theft, nor did it have a clue who had stolen them.

Along one wall was the control console from a missile launch site that he had appropriated from one that had been shut down in Montana. Scattered around the island were twelve Peacemaker ICBM rockets in working condition stored in silos, harvested from the drawdown in the Cold War. The silos were on an old Navy base that had once existed on the island, and it had cost Vampyr half a billion dollars to get them into working condition and almost as much to ensure secrecy.

On each Peacemaker was a strategic nuclear warhead, each powerful enough to take out a city. He had had them recovered from American nuclear submarines that had gone down in the oceans, using one of his subsidiary salvage companies. Such was the bureaucracy of the Pentagon that the twelve weren’t even reported as missing. Located in Puget Sound, he could reach anywhere in the United States with the missiles. He had a similar compound, staffed with Russian warheads from their lost submarines, and Russian rockets from their disarming, located just south of Kiev, with the same capability for all of Russia and Europe. He could launch those from here.

Vampyr ran a hand along one of the tactical nuclear warhead’s metal housing, almost the caress of a lover.

In the middle of the room, however, was the centerpiece of his arsenal. A triple-enclosed biohazard container. Inside were three different viruses. One developed by the Russians, one American, and one Japanese. Because of their lethality, each had scared their creators so much that immediate orders had been issued for their destruction. By the time the orders were implemented, Vampyr’s far-flung organization had already gathered samples of each. The container was truly Pandora’s box. If opened, it would spread three distinct viruses, each 99.9 percent lethal and highly contagious. One such virus might be contained. There was the remote possibility two could be. But three? The world would be dead within two months.

Money was power, and Vampyr had plenty of that. But this was power also, in a much different form. The most important power, though, was the ability to be ruthless, to be able to make the hard decisions. To be able to use these weapons if necessary. And that was something Vampyr had more of than any creature that had ever walked the face of the planet.

Vampyr had been made during the time of the Airlia Gods. He had lived through the rule of the Shadows, and the time when men thought they ruled but were actually still being manipulated by the minions of the Airlia. He had fought in many wars with many different weapons.

The humans now thought it was truly their time, given that they had defeated the Airlia. They were wrong. It was his time.

“It is time for the Fourth Age,” Vampyr whispered to himself. “The Age of the Undead.”