gaped at her, visibly weakening at the knees. ‘All of them? The Supremos?’
She nodded. ‘Goldmund, Korentayer, Hassan, Borowczyk, Mushkavanhu. Not to mention our illustrious former Federation second-in-command, the late and much-lamented Gaston Lerouge. Stone executed them all. With a guillotine.’ She gave a dry smile. ‘Some style, that Gabriel. You’ve got to hand it to him.’
‘What about the Vampress?’ Utz croaked. He was referring to Supremo Olympia Angelopolis, the grand Matriarch of the whole Federation. ‘Surely not her as well?’
Alex shrugged. ‘She might have got out. Things were kind of chaotic.’ She didn’t pretend to care any more than she did about Olympia’s fate.
‘This is unreal. You’ve got to be kidding me about this.’
She looked at him. ‘You should know by now that I’m a very humourless person and I don’t dick about making jokes. Especially when I’ve been shot at with Nosferol bullets, kidnapped and incarcerated in a damp cell in some middle-of-nowhere castle in Romania and then almost guillotined myself.’
And left behind the only man I’ve given a shit about in a hundred and thirteen years, she wanted to add. Left him to fend for himself in the wilderness, more alone and more terrified than he could ever have imagined. Making that stark, brutal choice had ripped her guts out: either let Joel die in her arms of the terrible wounds he’d suffered in the battle with Stone’s gang, or help him to survive, the only way she knew how.
Turning him had seemed the only option.
And now what? She knew he’d make it out of there. Of all the things vampires could do, survival was what they did best. He’d have sought out a dark place by now, to hole up in for the day. Come sundown, he’d begin his new existence – one he’d never forgive her for having inflicted on him. And then, sooner or later, more likely sooner, he’d come looking for her. The indelible connection between vampire and victim would lead him to her. When that day came, she’d have to account for what she’d done to him.
Alex quickly pressed that thought to the back of her mind. ‘Got any Solazal?’ she asked Utz. If she wanted to move around safely in daylight, she’d need more than just the twelve hours’ worth of protection that one salvaged pill could offer.
Utz was still stunned from the news, leaning heavily on the bonnet of the car for support. He shook his head. ‘Just what I need for myself,’ he said distractedly. ‘There’s a shortage.’
Alex was well aware of that. Gabriel Stone’s doing. In a lightning raid in Italy, his heavily-armed assault team had blown up the pharmaceutical plant where the Federation produced its special drugs. With a blast of high explosive, Stone’s Traditionalist uprising had sent the vampire world halfway back to the sacred old ways of ducking and dodging the sun. It was anyone’s guess how long it would be before Solazal production went back to normal. As for Nosferol, the lethal anti-vampire poison that Federation agents used to destroy rogue members of their kind, the attack on the pharmaceutical plant had reduced stocks almost to zero.
‘Have you reported back to Rumble yet?’ Utz said, gathering himself.
‘Rumble was with me in Romania, Utz. He isn’t coming back. A certain vamp called Lillith was a little too handy with a bloody great sabre.’ Poor Harry, Alex thought. He hadn’t been all bad, even for a suit.
‘How the hell did you get out of it?’ Utz said.
‘It was thanks to a human,’ Alex replied after a beat.
‘A what?’
‘His name’s Joel Solomon. He’s a cop. Or was. If he hadn’t turned up when he had, I’d have ended up as just another severed head in a basket. He got shot to pieces, but not before he’d managed to take out Stone’s guards and most of his crew. As for Stone himself—’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know what happened to him.’
‘A human did all this?’
‘He had a little help. From the cross.’
Utz’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Come on. You don’t mean—’
‘That’s right, Utz. The cross, the one nobody at VIA wanted to believe me about. The cross of Ardaich. Yes, it exists, and yes, it does what all the legends say it does.’
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘You’d better.’
‘Where is this thing now?’
She shrugged. ‘Last time I saw it, it was flying over the battlements of Stone’s castle. Something like a thousand-foot drop. Nothing but rocks below.’
‘So it got smashed, right?’
‘Probably.’
‘What does that mean, “probably”?’
‘It means I didn’t actually see it get smashed, okay? Hard to believe anything could have survived that fall. That’s the best I can tell you.’
‘So it’s gone . . . and we’re safe. We are safe now, aren’t we?’
‘No more questions, all right?’ she told him. ‘I’m tired and I need a feed and I called you because I thought you could help me.’
‘What are we going to do?’
Alex stared at him for a second. Then, quicker than he could react, she’d grabbed the pistol she’d known was in a shoulder holster under his jacket, flipped off the safety and aimed it square between Utz’s eyeballs. It was a 9mm Beretta, not the big-bore stuff she personally favoured, but it would do the job. ‘Utz, when I tell you something like “no more questions”, I do mean it.’
‘Hey. Watch out. That thing’s loaded with Nosferol tips.’ She smiled. ‘Of course it is. Standard field agent issue. All right, Utz, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going back to base, to find out if there are any pieces left to pick up. If there aren’t, it means Stone’s beaten us. End of the line for the Federation, every vampire for herself from now on.’
‘What about me?’ Utz said in a small voice, squinting at the muzzle of the pistol.
Alex smiled sweetly. ‘You’re a VIA station chief, aren’t you? Stealing hick farm trucks and stowing away on freight trains in the middle of the night isn’t my style. While there’s still some operational funds left in the coffers, you’re going to get me on a nice, comfortable Federation jet to London with enough red juice on board to satisfy Count Dracula.’
Dec Maddon swallowed hard and took another trembling, tiptoeing step down the darkened corridor. The big silver crucifix tightly clenched in his right hand glimmered dully in the near total blackness. The rasp of his breathing filled his ears. The frantic drumming of his heart made his throat flutter. He knew he was lost. Nobody would ever find him here.
Nobody except . . . them.
Something brushed his face, making him flinch violently and almost cry out in fear before he realised it was the silky touch of cobwebs hanging from the low ceiling. He clawed them away and moved on. Ahead of him, a solid rectangular patch of darkness stood out against the shadows. A doorway.
He reached out to push it open, his left hand a pale, ghostly thing in the darkness. The door creaked slowly open. Dec gripped the crucifix for all he was worth, took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway into the space beyond.
Immediately, and with a spike of shock, he knew he’d been here before. The stone pillars of the ancient cellar were dimly lit by the flickering orange flame of a wall-mounted torch. He took a trembling step across the uneven flagstones. Then another. He gulped. His mouth was dry. He thought of the terrible scenes he’d witnessed the last time he’d been here – down here in the crypt beneath the