Holidays are Hell(92)

"Thanks," Joseph said dryly, and looked at the blond man. "And you, Mr.?…"

"Doe," he said, with a slight smile. "John Doe, to you. And no, the little bastards won't kill me. I've never touched a single one of them. And if they do try, I've made it crystal clear what will happen in retaliation." He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "Fear, Mr. Besud. You should really try utilizing it in a different manner than you have. You are far too much of a goody-two-shoes."

Six recalled Joseph's memories: the bones, the dead, the cold way he had dispatched the vampires during the previous night. Not so goody-goody, she thought. Not at all. The two of them were the same, that way.

"What do you get out of this?" she asked Doe. "Not just money. You would not want Joseph dead, if it was simply that."

Doe smiled, cracking his knuckles. "Do you know what happens when people die, Miss Six? It is quite remarkable, really. Their souls leave. Everything that ever made a person who they are simply… floats away. To Heaven or Hell, or perhaps just to live on a cloud. I do not know, nor do I care. What I find fascinating is not what happens after death, but what occurs during."

Joseph paled. "You're feeding off the deaths."

"Do you know how old I am?" Doe tapped his smooth cheek, running his finger down his strong jaw. "Ninety, young Mr. Besud. Ninety years old, and my body is still as young now as it was all those years ago. Back home in Russia." His smile changed, becoming darker, more feral. "I knew your grandfather, boy. I trained him."

Joseph's breath caught. "He spoke of a teacher. Never his name, though. He said that man was great."

"A compliment," Doe said. "I am still fond of him, you know. He was a stunning pupil. I was… disappointed… when he chose to run away. It took me years to find him again. I thought for sure that he would have used the trick I taught him to stay young, but instead I found an old brittle man with an old crone of a wife, their children aging by the minute. And you. You, with even more talent than my student."

"So you would kill me for that?" Joseph swayed forward. "Why?"

"Because there are no others like us," Doe whispered. "Not anywhere. We are alone, boy."

"And you do not want the competition," Six said, quiet.

Doe tipped his head. "When I was young, nothing excited me more than the idea of my brothers-in-arms, all of us living to use our gifts for pride and country. But it is a different world now, and I like my power being only my power."

"You like killing people for that strength," Joseph said flatly. "Only a violent death would give what you crave."

"A little bit of chaos never hurt," Doe said. "China will rebuild. It has people to spare. I'm sure the vampires agree."

Six gritted her teeth. "I would like to kill him now. May I?"

"By all means," Joseph said.

Doe sneered. He lifted his hands, chanting. Six felt a brief tug on her body, but it slid off her like water, and she smiled. Took one step forward, reaching behind for her gun. Doe faltered. The vampires all looked at each other.

"There is a curious thing called possession," Joseph said. "You might have heard of it. Thing is, you don't have to fully inhabit a person in order to keep someone else out. I'm surprised you didn't know that, Doe."

Doe paled. He said one word and the vampires jerked in front of him. Six knew what Joseph wanted before he asked; she tossed him the gun and then barreled into the vampires, clearing a path for him so that he could chase after Doe. He did, disappearing around a corner in the long office corridor.

Behind her, the elevator dinged. The two vampires who had escorted them up ran off, snarling. Their human faces had drained away; they stared at her with hollow eyes and black mouths, sharp tongues writhing deep within the maw. The air felt cold.

"Sister," hissed the woman. "I think, perhaps, we no longer want you to join us."

Six laughed. It was too funny. Five vampires against one. She liked those odds.

Doe ran fast, but Joseph did, too. He caught up with the older man. Before he could fire the gun, he heard a low voice fill the air: binding words, pushing against him. Joseph held up one hand and let his own voice fill the air. Double tones, loud and strong. His voice drowned out Doe, and he lifted the gun and took aim. His grandfather had always been good with a gun. So had his father. The steppe made men hardy, that way. Joseph fired.

The bullet caught Doe in the knee. He went down screaming and Joseph stood over him. Doe tried again to use his gift, but the power, while strong, slid away.

"What did you think it would do for you?" Joseph asked quietly, kneeling. "Really, what? Eternal youth? Perfect control over the people around you? And you thought you could beat me with that? You're no better than a vampire. Worse, even. You had a choice. Same choice as my grandfather. As me."