"Release him now," I say.
"Not yet," she says. "Not until you join us."
"Don't be foolish," I say. "I cannot join a group I know nothing about. Where are your people from?"
"Here, and elsewhere."
"Are you from another world?"
"Yes and no."
"Are you human?"
"Partly."
"How many are in your group?"
"The number cannot be measured by human or vampire standards."
"So you know I am a vampire. Who told you?"
"You did."
"No. When?"
"Long ago." Heidi shakes Seymour and I hear the bones in his spine crack. "Enough of these questions. You join us now or you will be destroyed."
"What do I have to do to join you?" I ask.
"You must swear an oath, and offer us a large portion of your blood."
"What do I get in return?"
"I have told you. Power."
"Power to do what?"
She sharpens her tone. "Enough! What is your decision?"
Since she has a weapon at my friend's throat, I feel I have no choice. "I will join you," I say. "On the condition you release Seymour."
"Agreed." She pushes Seymour forward so that he stands midway between us.
"Seymour," I say quickly. "Leave this place."
He has been hurt and frightened, but he is no coward.
"Will you be all right?" he asks. He does not want to leave.
"Yes," I say firmly. "You cannot help me by remaining. Leave."
He turns toward the door.
"No," Heidi says. Seymour stopsthere is strength in her tone. "He is not to leave. He is to be your sacrifice."
"We have an agreement," I say bitterly. "He is to be let go."
"No," Heidi repeats, and there is cold evil in her voice. "I agreed only to release him. I have done so. But to join us you must sacrifice him. It is part of your initiation."
My tone is scornful. "Is this the way of your people? You splice words so thinly they become lies."
Heidi points the matrix at Seymour's back. "Your choice remains the same. You have five seconds to make it."
I imagine she is good at keeping time. Seymour's face is ashen. He believes, either way, that he is a goner. But I have not lived five thousand years to be so easily tricked. Clearly this creature knows a great deal about me, but not everything. Since the recent infusion of Kalika's blood into my system, I have the ability to move things with my mind, as well as read minds. I have no doubt my daughter could effortlessly affect objects from immense distances. This psychokinesis, however, requires great concentration on my part and I have never used it under adverse conditions. Up at Lake Tahoe, where my friend Paula lives with the divine child, I have only practiced pushing rocks and sticks from place to place.
But now I must move a knife.
Push it through Heidi's throat.
The blade is above and behind her. I can see it; she cannot. Yet I am afraid to focus completely on it, afraid Heidi will guess what I am up to. Instead I must continue to stare at Heidi, while I think of the knife, only of the knife. Rising up on its own, flying through the air, digging deep into her soft flesh, slicing open her veins, ripping to pieces her nerves. Yes, I tell myself, the knife will fly. It can fly. The very magnetism of my mind commands it to do so now. At this very moment.
"You have two seconds," Heidi says.
"You have only one," I whisper as I feel my thoughts snatch hold of the cold alloy, a special blend of metals, far more powerful than steel, an edge far sharper than that of a razor. For me, it is almost as if I hold the blade in my fingers. There is pleasure for me in this killing. But for her, there is only surprise.
The blade swishes through the air.
Heidi hears it, turns, but too late.
The knife sinks into the side of her neck and suddenly her blood is pouring onto the dirty floor. Yet I do not take this to mean my victory is complete. Heidi's will is strong; she will not die easily. Even as her left hand rises up to remove the blade, her right hand brings up the matrix and aims it at both Seymour and me. We are standing in a straight line in front of her. I anticipate this move, and already am flying toward my friend. I hit him in the knees just as a flash of red light stabs the air where he was standing.Together Seymour and I roll on the floor. But I am quickly up and kick the matrix from Heidi's hand before she can get off another shot. My knife in her neck has slowed her down some, but she almost has it out, and perhaps she is capable of healing even fatal wounds, as I can. But I will not give her the chance. Before she can totally remove the knife, I reach out and grab her head and twist it all the way around, breaking every bone in her neck. She sags lifeless in my arms, dead, but still I am not finished with her. Ripping offher head, I throw it into the far corner. Now there is no way she can recover.
"Nice," Seymour says behind me.
"Get those two weapons," I say as I drop to my knees and examine Heidi's headless corpse. "We are leaving here in a few seconds. Her partners must be nearby."
"Understood."
While Seymour goes off to collect the two ray guns, I rifle through Heidi's clothes, coming up with a wallet and a passport. These I will study later. Feeling her from neck to foot, I find nothing else on her person. Seymour is quick on his feet. Already he stands behind me with the matrixes in his hand.
"Who was she?" he asks.
"I haven't the slightest idea." I stand. "Let's get out of here."
2
The following morning I sit beside Paula Ramirez on the edge of Emerald Bay in the area of Lake Tahoe. The sun is brilliant in a clear cerulean sky. Inside Paula's house, Seymour sleeps, a young vampire still allergic to the sun. Now the sun doesn't affect me in the slightest, and again I must credit this to my daughter's blood. Even the burning Surya, the sun god, could not intimidate the Dark Mother, Kali. Kalika's ashes rest in a vase that sits beside me in the sand. I have brought the vase with me from the house. I don't know why. Except I still miss her so, my beautiful, mysterious daughter, killed by a Setian.
Paula holds her three-month-old son, John, and listens as I describe what happened in Los Angeles. I have driven all night to reach Paula. The infant kicks his bare feet in the cold water. He looks and sounds happy. I am happy just to see him. He always has that effect on me. It was this child's blood that brought Seymour back from the dead. Yet I did not take John's bloodonce I had saved him from the Setiansto save my daughter. I knew it was not what she wanted. But I ask myself over and over how I could not have wanted it.