Marcos put back the brochures, got up from his bed, put on some clothes and went down to the lobby. He asked for a taxi and indeed five minutes later one was waiting for him at the entrance.
“To the Coal Pits, please”, he told the driver the moment he got in.
“Hey… buddy, that is not the nicest neighborhood… Should I take you to the waterfront, instead? Plenty of nice bars down there, yeap? How does that sound?” said the driver, rather surprised that he had been asked to take his client to that place.
Marcos simply stared at him and eventually the driver sighed:
“It’s your funeral, man”, he murmured and pulled into the traffic.
Soon they had reached their destination. The Coal Pits, one of the few shady neighborhoods of Volt City, where the various gangs had been given free reign. The place was named after the plants running on coal and lignite, which had been constructed during the early years of the city but now stood abandoned. The surrounding houses, which hadn’t been renovated or even given a fresh coat of paint, were all mostly black from the soot. Marcos paid the driver and got out of the taxi. It was now dark and the streets around him were poorly lit. He walked around, to get a sense of the place, under the stares of the locals who were roaming the streets, looking at him with open hostility. He then approached some young men who had been leaning with their backs against an old car.
“Hey, Whitey, did you get lost? Want some help to get back to your mommy?” shouted one of the men as he approached them. He was young, hardly twenty years old.
“I’m looking to get my hands on a gun; anything will do, though I do have a soft spot for those that pack some punch, something like a Desert Eagle. A Glock will suit me fine, though, if you haven’t got anything better”, he announced quite simply and calmly, as if it were absolutely normal to go shopping for a gun in a ghetto.
The men surrounded him, clearly incensed, while the one who had mocked him drew a short knife he had been keeping on his belt.
“Fuck off!”
“By the way, I’m also looking for the neighborhood with the highest rate of disappearances…” Marcos continued, undeterred.
“I said, fuck off!” repeated the young man, extending his knife towards Marcos’ face.
With a quick move, Marcos grabbed the knife along with the youngster’s arm, turned him around, so he was looking at his back and kicked him on the knee, dropping him to the ground before pressing the knife on his neck.
“… regardless of color or gang affiliations. Basically, a neighborhood you’d be scared shitless to even go near”, he finally concluded his request.
The rest of the men had all drawn their weapons, shouting at him to let go of their friend. Marcos smiled at one of them:
“There, that gun you’re holding, it will do just fine”, he announced happily. “Oh! I will need a couple of silver bullets, if you happen to have any”, he added.
The shouting stopped and everyone looked at him oddly. Marcos let the youngster get on his feet and the boy took a good look at him, from top to bottom. He swallowed a couple of times and then, with a halting voice, asked him:
“You came alone?”
Marcos nodded.
“Hey, Billy? Is he one of those guys you told us about? Those weirdos who saved you?”
“Nah, those were organized. This is just a stupid son of a bitch with a deathwish”, Billy answered with conviction. “Not that I care about that, provided you got the dough to pay up”, he added, turning to Marcos, who simply took out an envelope from his pocket, filled with money, and passed it to him.
“Keep the change”, he said, quietly.
Billy took one look at the envelope, his eyes widened for a fraction of a second but then he quickly stuffed it inside his clothes.
“Look, I don’t have on me the stuff you’re looking for, the bullets that is. What few I got, I want them for my own safety. But just come along, my pad is right around the corner, I’ll get you geared up in a couple of minutes”, he told Marcos, gesturing to follow him.
On the outside, Marcos looked solid like a rock, but inside his heart was thumping like crazy. He had picked Billy out of a long list prepared by Travis, which included people who had even a brief contact with the Order. Following a more detailed investigation, he had discovered that Billy was one of the kids saved by the knights in the past, but eventually he had chosen not to join their ranks. It would appear that buying guns from Billy was the surest way to get the Order’s attention, but he had almost gotten himself shot before setting in motion his main plan.
Within a couple of minutes they had reached the flat of the young man and Marcos had gotten the gun, the ammo and the address he was looking for. In fact, Billy, right as Marcos was about to leave, gave him a silver dagger. Marcos thanked him and walked out, leaving behind him the Coal Pits.
They crashed on them like a torrent. Erica drew her sword at once and with its silver blade cut down three of the creatures that attacked her. Yet her speed was not enough; the creatures were far too many. One of them fell on her with its claws, leaving two gaping slashes on her face and dropping her on the ground. It had missed her eyes by mere inches. Erica screamed in pain and, infuriated, struck the creature on its side with her blade. With her free hand, she grabbed hold of it and threw it off her, having to put superhuman strength in her effort. Before she had the chance to get back to her feet, another humanoid shadow, tall like two men, grabbed her by the legs and tossed her against another of the leaders, throwing him down as well.
The creatures battle with ease the remaining members of their team, who are furiously struggling for their lives. Archytas is the sole exception, as he is standing in the midst of all this chaos, neither participating nor being threatened by the creatures. His deformed face watches the battle calmly, almost in apathy, until the men who had followed him are on the verge of collapse. Suddenly, he draws his sword from its scabbard; it is a magnificent weapon, its blade made of steel forged along with silver, creating an alloy slender, strong and sharp but also enchanted, as every now and then flashes of light shoot out of it. All the creatures, as if they were one, stop fighting and stare at the weapon with their wide, red eyes. Archytas turns the sword in his hands, so that its blade points the ground and, grabbing it by its long handle buries it with both hands in front of him. The silver flashes immediately flow to the tip of the sword and, with a thundering boom, stronger than the most terrible lightning, shoot out and strike the creatures around them, pulverizing them, as if they never existed. Archytas raises the sword again, but only for a moment, before slamming it down again, killing countless more creatures. He raises the sword for a third time, now drenched in his own sweat, but he does not need to use it again; the remaining creatures are fleeing. He returns the weapon to its scabbard and approaches Erica, offering her his arm to get her off the ground. She accepts it and the second she touches it one last flash shoots out from the sword from within its scabbard and enters her body. She blinks and is stunned to realize that she has been completely healed; all the wounds are gone, as if they were but a dream. Archytas gestures to them that they must press ahead.
Back to the present, Erica finds herself in the arms of Lucas, lost in the memories of Naram-Sin, soaking wet from her own sweat, mumbling feverishly.
“The sword of Saint Peter”, she keeps repeating, but no one is able to understand what she is talking about.
They were nearing their destination, Volt City and Erica still hadn’t opened her eyes, even though it was dark around their plane. Travis, once again, examined her carefully, trying to understand whether she was all right or not.
“Leave her alone”, said Lucas yet again, as he was lounging on one of the executive seats. “You cannot help her”, he added.
Travis scowled at him, stood for a few more seconds looking at the young vampire and then, in desperation, he returned to his seat and placed his laptop on his knees. On the open screen of the computer a routine was running, tracking Marc
os’ cell phone.
“Better leave him alone as well”, the giant guessed correctly, even though he couldn’t see what the hacker was doing. “Whether he succeeds or not is something out of our hands at the moment”, he explained.
Almost fuming, Travis lowered the screen of the laptop and turned towards Lucas.
“How can you be so calm? How can you sit there, completely indifferent, while Erica remains unconscious, mumbling incoherently? How can you rely on a human, this Marcos character?” he exclaimed, irritated.
The giant smiled.
“I have a couple of centuries’ worth of experience on you, don’t you forget”, he said in his usual instructive manner which he loved using. “Would it serve any purpose at all if I worried about Erica? Is there anything I could do to help her that I’m not doing? It’s not as if I actually understand what’s happening to her right now! All I can do is trust that Naram-Sin was right about her and that everything will be fine”.
He paused for a little while and then added:
“As for Marcos, we were all human, once”, he concluded.
“But of course, o wise Buddha”, said Travis mockingly, still unable to overcome his irritation.
Again he turned to his laptop, while the giant merely cackled, indifferent to the insults of the hacker.
“You are not going to win her over by antagonizing Marcos, a mere human, as you are so fond of reminding us”, said Lucas after a couple of minutes, insisting on offering unwanted advice to Travis.
“And who should I be antagonizing? You, perhaps?” came the answer, dripping contempt, as the hacker kept staring at his computer.
This time the giant laughed long and hard, before answering.
“Oh, Travis! It is truly a sight to behold, an intelligent person such as you, completely unable to detect the obvious! How long were you under my watch, before Erica got you? How many years? And you would still imagine, after all this time, that Erica, or any other woman for that matter, is what really interests me?”
The words of the giant forced Travis’ eyes off the screen of his computer. Despite being undead, he felt his blood rushing to his head and he was convinced he had turned bright red from shame.
“I’m sorry”, he said, after several seconds spent in awkwardness, but at least it was a sincere apology. “I’m not that good with humans…” he said, trying to explain himself. “Or vampires, for that matter”, he added hastily. “I mean… ah…”
Unable to find the right words, he stopped.
Still laughing good-naturedly, the giant took him out of his misery:
“Do not fret! Anyway, I wouldn’t have said a thing, if I didn’t think that I could show you the wisdom of not rushing to judge… or speak”.
“… I’ll do my best”, Travis said, following a brief internal struggle. “It’s true, though, and please don’t misunderstand me, but really I don’t get along well with the others. Only Erica has managed to get my attention…” he added. “Since I was turned into a vampire, I feel… isolated. I’m not sure how to explain it”, he confessed.
“I understand exactly. Vampirism affects us all in different ways and sometimes, over the course of centuries, I came across people like you. You are not alone in this, nor should you worry; if you don’t like something, you have all the time in the world to fix it”, Lucas encouraged him. “At least time is something we do not lack”, he added, but this last phrase was spoken with a heavy heart.
The ghosts of the past returned unbidden: Naram-Sin, his sister, all those who had mattered. He recalled his past affairs. The truth was that it had been over a century since his last relationship. He couldn’t stand the thought of having to bury another partner.
He recalled the last person he had loved, a young man called Thomas, from Austria. He had first met him in the early days of the nineteenth century, at a banquet organized by some emperor, whose name he had long forgotten. Thomas was a pianist, performing with unparalleled skill, immediately casting a spell on Lucas. It wasn’t long before they were in each other’s arms. “Lucas and Thomas, see how beautifully our names match”, the young man used to tease him, every time they slept together. They traveled to America, where the society was more tolerant towards homosexuality, even in those early days, especially compared to the situation in Europe. They lived a good life together, without too many problems, despite Lucas’ unholy nature. Thomas accepted him exactly as he was, even though he had never asked him to turn him into a vampire.
A tear flowed on the giant’s cheek and he quickly wiped it, so as not to let Travis see it. He had buried Thomas in a beautifully green garden, at the small cottage they had bought together; he had died of old age. Along with the body of the dead man, Lucas felt like he was burying his own heart.
He turned around and looked at Travis; the young hacker was once again engrossed in his laptop, having forgotten their discussion. “It’s better this way”, thought the giant, who couldn’t deal with any more memories at that time.
The most dangerous area in the entire Volt City turned out to be an exclusive bar-restaurant in one of the richest neighborhoods of the metropolis. Marcos had great difficulty in getting in and in fact it cost him a hefty bribe to the bouncer. Thankfully, Erica had supplied him with enough money before he set out on his mission. And yet, within a couple of hours he had managed to spend most of it.
He sat at a small table for one, in a corner of the restaurant, fairly isolated, but at least he could easily keep an eye on the entire dining area, since no one was paying him the slightest attention once he had been seated there. Even the staff, although very polite, was not displaying the proper care.
The name of the restaurant was in Chinese and it translated as “tasteful voyage”, as he was able to discover, browsing the internet from his phone. Its decoration was fairly modern. The bar dominated one side of the room from end to end, while the rest were made of glass, allowing a panoramic view of the seaside, as the restaurant was located at the top of a hotel. The ceiling was covered in tiny lights, casting a pleasant glow on the tables below, giving the overall impression of a starry sky. The tables also boasted discreet, round lamps, hanging from the ceiling from steel cords, as if they were floating. Around the dining area and the tables, made of a rare African wood, called “pink ivory”, the color of which was true to its name, there were couches. These were made of expensive black leather and in front of them stood small tables, made of the same wood as the larger ones, for those who would rather enjoy a cocktail instead of dining. The decoration was based on the antithesis created between the dominant black color and the striking pink hues of the African wood and Marcos was somewhat surprised to find the result rather pleasing, despite not being a fan of these modern trends.
The discreet lightning in the restaurant made it difficult to see clearly the faces of the customers. He had eaten the three appetizers they had served him -the ingredients of which, although particularly tasty, he had failed to recognize, save for the pieces of lobster wrapped in cucumber- and he was about to eat up his main course and still he had failed to locate the people he was looking for. One thing he had realized was that the restaurant catered to other needs, besides particularly expensive and eclectic dining. He had noticed several entrepreneurs and celebrities, men and women, dining or drinking accompanied by young escorts before departing in their company to return to their rooms on the lower floors of the hotel. Three men were sitting in a corner of the bar and appeared to be the ones “responsible” for these services. The entire time Marcos was at the restaurant, they had ordered nothing but soda water, while they had guns on them, as far as he could tell.
He was about to give up when an elegant, middle-aged lady made her appearance, dressed in an obviously expensive silk suit and skirt. Her posture was indicative of the superiority she felt towards all the others in the room. She was escorted by two guards, also dressed in expensive suits. The maître d’ recognized her, judging from the way he welcomed her and led her to a t
able right next to the glass wall. One of the men escorting her tried to pull back the chair to help her sit down, but she pushed him away with the back of her hand, disparagingly and somewhat angrily, as if he had offended her. She sat on her own, casting at the same time a cold look at the man, who took a step back and bowed his head in apology.
One of the three men sitting at the bar, responsible for the “special” services at the restaurant, approached and welcomed her, also bowing his head with respect. Following a brief conversation, which Marcos had no way of hearing, the man returned to the bar and talked to one of the other two men, who then got up and exited the restaurant. He returned after a while, at the side of an attractive woman in her twenties. He indicated to her the table where the lady in the expensive suit was sitting and she immediately walked towards it. She looked somewhat stressed, but the second she approached the table she smiled as brightly as she could manage and extended her arm, to shake hands. The older woman looked at her from head to toes and then nodded at her to sit down, without actually shaking her hand, thus making the young woman nervous again. Despite all that, she smiled at the girl to assuage her fears, all the while looking at her as a predator eyeing its prey.