Leif’s earlier assertion that these lieutenants of Zdenik’s were all younger than he was gave me an idea—she wouldn’t be able to speak Old Norse. I had to hope that Leif hadn’t lost the ability to speak it himself. Before he could stumble through some kind of answer, I spoke quickly to him in the language of his birth.
“I will bind her limbs and lips together,” I said. “Stand up and make sure she doesn’t fall.” Thankfully, he remembered the language. Leif stood and Natalia took a step back as I switched to Old Irish and began binding the skin of her lips together.
As far as the earth is concerned, vampires are fair game. They’re nothing but perambulating sacks of carbon and trace minerals that prey on living people, and, as such, I can do whatever I want to them and Gaia is completely chill with it. I didn’t want to unbind Natalia here, because it would be excessively messy, cause panic, and draw unwanted attention to me. It would be better to remove her from the premises and make sure no other vampires were around. I also wanted to check on Oberon.
“Enough playing. Tell me who this man is or I will tell Zdenik,” she said to Leif. And those were her last words. I completed my binding, and she discovered that it was simply impossible to open her mouth. Eyes widening in shock, she conveniently lifted her hands to her mouth for me, and I was able to execute a shorter, “repeat” binding, with just a small adjustment of the target: Now her hands were also bound to her mouth, and panicked noises were trying to bubble out.
“Grab her around the shoulders like you’re buddies, but don’t let her go,” I said to Leif in Old Norse. As he moved to obey—she struggled a bit before he could secure his arm around her—I began one last binding on her jeans: I bound the inseams together so that she wouldn’t be able to run. In this way, she was immobilized inside of fifteen seconds without a single punch thrown or a scream to summon would-be heroes.
Her desperate noises were attracting attention, however, some scowling faces wondering why that woman was so upset and whether the men had anything to do with it.
“It’s her food allergy,” I said in English, a bit louder than I needed to. “We’d better get her to the doctor. Come on.” Some of the nearby patrons’ expressions changed to pity for the poor lady with an allergy.
Now that he was clued in to the ruse, Leif played along. “Let’s get you outside,” he said consolingly, also speaking a little bit louder than necessary, to reassure anyone listening in. Using only his left arm to squish her side next to his, he basically carried her out of the restaurant, lifting her up a bit so her feet wouldn’t drag on the floor. With her hands pressed to her mouth, Natalia plausibly looked and sounded like she was having trouble with something she’d eaten.
“Stay here,” I told Granuaile before following Leif. “We’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“I’m coming,” she said, moving to stand.
“No,” I said firmly. “I really need you to remain here.” If there were other vampires outside, I didn’t want Granuaile to become an easy target. “Seriously.”
She studied my face to see if there was any give in my expression and found none. She slumped back, clearly displeased but not about to fight me on the subject.
“Thank you,” I said, then hurried to catch up with Leif.
Oberon! I called, mentally shouting as I darted past tables to the front door.
"Huh? What?"
Oh. You’re okay?
"Yeah, I’m fine. Are we going now?"
I breathed a sigh of relief as I reached the exit. Thank the gods of twenty pantheons. Why didn’t you answer earlier?
"I didn’t hear anything."
I called you twice, I said as I looked around for Leif. He was to my left, still carrying Natalia, heading next door toward a convenience store with a few gas pumps in the front; we’d left Oberon in the parking lot, to my right.
"Oh. Um." His tone became apologetic. "I may have taken a short nap, Atticus. I’m sure it was very short though. Next time, remember to ask for the non-drowsy yak liver."
Walk to the sidewalk and turn left, I told him. You’ll see me there. Follow behind and watch for vampires, please. Maximum paranoia. Don’t forget the roofs.
"Okay. I see you now. Only vampires I can sense are the ones in front of you. Leif and that one from earlier."
All right. Keep me informed of any developments.
Leif paused at the end of the building and swung around to check on what I wanted to do. I jogged to catch up and pointed to the sliver of space between Granny’s Closet and the convenience store.
“Dumpsters should be back there,” I said in Old Norse. No use getting Natalia even more riled up. Yet.
As casually as we could, and with Leif still pretending that the arm around Natalia was protective, we walked the thirty yards or so to the back of the building and slipped out of sight of all the traffic on South Milton Road. We found the big industrial trash bins and I threw open the lid, startling a few hardy flies that were battling the chilly temperatures.
I’m dissolving your camouflage, Oberon. Please make sure no one follows us back here.
"Got it."
“Toss her in,” I said to Leif, purposely using English. Natalia heard that, made a supreme effort, and managed to separate her legs, tearing her jeans right down the inseam. I’d been expecting that, but Leif hadn’t. He started cursing as she kicked at him, and I calmly bound her legs together again—now using her exposed skin. She wouldn’t be tearing through that.
“What are you doing?” Leif said.
“I just wanted a quiet place to talk without someone interrupting with escape attempts. So. You have one of Zdenik’s lieutenants helpless. What are you going to do?”
Leif looked wounded. “Me? Aren’t you going to unbind her?”
“No. She’s your enemy in your territory. You wanted help and I’m giving it because I can’t let her tell anyone I’m alive. But I’m not your assassin. Do your own dirty work.”
Leif shrugged and pushed her over so that she fell facedown onto the asphalt. He planted a foot between her shoulder blades, gripped her head on either side with his hands, and with a soft grunt pulled it off with a snap of bone and a wet, slurping sound. I’d bound the skin of her fingers so tightly to her face that some of them tore free of her hands and dangled from her lips, and in other cases the skin of her face tore loose and remained bound to her fingers. It was a quick, brutal, and messy extermination, as I suspected it would be. Leif tossed the bloody head into the trash and I began to unbind it, partly to get rid of the evidence and partly to make sure that this vampire would never respawn.
“Thank you, Atticus,” he said, hefting the body and doing his best to keep blood off his clothes.
I finished the unbinding and watched in the magical spectrum until the red light of vampirism winked out in the skull as it dissolved among the food scraps and paper bags and plastic packaging.
“I don’t really want to be thanked, Leif,” I said. “I want to be left alone.”
“I understand,” he said, heaving the body into the bin. He kept talking as I spoke the words to unbind the body; if I didn’t take care of the light in her chest, she’d come back in worse shape than Leif had, but she’d come back nevertheless.
“But you have to admit this was a simple exercise for us. Working together, we could clean up the state in a few days. Please, Atticus.”
Natalia, who’d probably enjoyed thirty years of life and three hundred years or more of bonus existence sucking the blood out of the living, melted inside her T-shirt and torn jeans. I nodded once in the direction of her remains and said, “Sorry, but that’s all the cleaning I’m going to do, Leif. That’s one rival eliminated. Orchestrate the rest yourself. Though I still say you should simply leave. May harmony find you.”
He didn’t miss the note of finality in my voice as I turned toward the gap between the buildings. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“I’m simply leaving,” I replied, walking back to collect Oberon and Granuaile. “See how easy it is?”
I left him standing there and fully expected never to see him again.
Chapter 19
One of the nice things about waking up is the inherent serenity that comes with knowing you’ll probably live until breakfast. It’s true that sometimes you can wake up with a Brobdingnagian hangover and hate your life, but at least you have life, and the cure for a hangover is probably in your kitchen somewhere. There will be birds chirping, a dog somewhere to pet, and a few moments where you can contemplate the pleasant possibility of getting into some sort of adventure that day.
On the other hand, if you live long enough, you’ll discover new and exciting ways to wake up that are less than serene, and well before dawn arrives. Weasels in your bedroll: not good. Huns pillaging the city and raping women: very bad. Vampires breaking through your hotel-room door and sinking their fangs into your newly healed neck before you can move: It doesn’t get much worse than that.
I was in Room 403 of the Hotel Monte Vista, where Freddy Mercury once stayed. I’d sung a bit of “Bohemian Rhapsody” to myself before slipping underneath the sheets and getting snuggly with the comforter. I fell asleep wondering if Scaramouche would do the fandango.
The vampire attached to my neck was improbably strong. The door to my room was completely destroyed; he had plowed right through it and attacked me before the sound could rouse me sufficiently to defend myself. Hotel thresholds offer no barriers to vampires.
On the fourth floor and cut off from the earth, I had a limited amount of magic stored in my bear charm. I used some of it to strengthen my right arm and punch him in the temple; it broke three of my knuckles but successfully knocked him off my neck for a moment. I activated my healing charm and began to speak the spell of unbinding as he hissed and came after me again.
I had no leverage, and the thrice-cursed snuggly comforter, so welcoming before, was now effectively keeping me in place for the vampire’s dining pleasure. He was on me again before I could get my legs free and employ some basic martial arts. I kept him from my neck, but just barely, using more magically enhanced strength. It was like wrestling Leif—even worse, for this lad was stronger and therefore older—and I knew from experience I would not be able to maintain it for much longer, especially with three broken fingers. My charm was running out of juice rapidly. He slapped me hard to make me stop the unbinding, and it worked. I had to start over.
"Atticus, what was that noise?" Oberon asked from next door. He was spending the night in Granuaile’s room.
Vampire trying to kill me.
He began to bark, and I heard Granuaile moving, already up, roused by the noise of the shattering door. I wanted to shout at her, say no, stay in your room, stay safe, but to do that I’d have to stop my unbinding for the second time.
As my magic ebbed away, I saw that I would have to make a choice. Either I could keep the vampire from my neck for a few seconds longer and use all my magic on boosting my strength, or I could let him at my neck and save enough to energize the unbinding, hoping he didn’t kill me before I could do it. I chose the latter, seeing no other winning scenario, and once there was nothing between my neck and the vampire but my weak human strength, he plunged down and tore at me again, my blood spilling onto the pillow as much as it spilled into his mouth. I resolutely kept speaking but knew he’d opened me up good, and I could feel my life draining away.
A snarl and an abrupt pressure announced the arrival of Oberon: He jumped on top of the vampire’s back, and thus on top of me, and did his best to bite through the vampire’s skull. It successfully distracted the vampire, because he tore loose from my neck, hissing, and coldly threw Oberon—all hundred and fifty pounds of him—straight through the open door to slam forcefully against the wall in the papered hallway. I heard his bones break and a pained yelp, closely followed by a startled scream from Granuaile, who was out there, and then the sound of my friend crumpling to the floor.
He had saved my life, because that gave me enough time to finish my unbinding and turn the vampire into a gory accident. He squelched and folded inside his suit until he was naught but a legendary dry-cleaning bill in the middle of the room. I tried to get out of the bed to help Oberon and instead tumbled into the carnage on the floor, too weak to keep my feet. I was still bleeding from the neck, and I had no magic left to heal myself.
“Call a vet!” I managed weakly. They were better last words, I supposed, than many others. I could see Granuaile kneeling next to Oberon, and he wasn’t moving. I couldn’t hear him in my mind either. Granuaile looked up from Oberon’s still form at someone’s approach in the hall. Her mouth dropped open.
Leif Helgarson strolled casually into the room, hands in pockets, a smirk on his misshapen face. It widened into a broad smile when he saw the remains in which I wallowed.
“Congratulations, Atticus,” he said. “You have just killed a vampire nearly as old as yourself. That was Zdenik, erstwhile lord of Prague and, briefly, the state of Arizona.”
No wonder he’d been so strong. “You … sent him here?” I said.
Leif removed his hands from his pockets and held them up helplessly. “Were you not the one who told me to orchestrate the deaths of my rivals? I have merely done as you suggested. Thank you for playing your part.”
The oxygen leeched out of the room at his words, and all I could breathe in was horror. What he’d done to Oberon and me—and possibly Granuaile—was all for his worthless territory games? The edges of my vision were going black; my blood was still leaking out of my neck, and I could not think of anything to say that would adequately convey the depth of my revulsion and loathing for him now. If I had the strength left, I would have unbound him on the spot; having no recourse, I fell back on Shakespeare. Leif would recognize it and understand the context properly. With my remaining few seconds of consciousness, I quoted Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing, who spoke these words to his former friend: “You are a villain: I jest not.” And then I collapsed into a pool of my own blood.