October 21, 7 p.m. Year of the Curtain+5
San Diego, California
Annabell had done this enough times to know the procedure. Track the thing into its lair, sniff around to make sure there were no other bloodsuckers in the vicinity, and wait for sundown. It was dangerous, she knew. Usually, the best thing to do when you found where a vampire was nesting during the day was to stake the son of a bitch while the sun was still up, but she wasn’t after just a kill today. She wanted information. She was, she would admit, a little disappointed that there weren’t a few other vampires in the nest. She could have staked the rest of them with no problem, she only wanted the one in the suit.
She stayed in the nest all day, not so much out of necessity (once a vampire fell asleep in the daylight, it would reliably sleep until the sun came down) but because the only exit from the nest led out onto a fairly busy street. She didn’t want to attract any attention to the staircase that led down into the next, especially if the thing had any Renfields she didn’t know about. Those were always the worst, the Renfields, stupid humans that did the vampires’ bidding either because they’d been ensorcelled or because they were stupid Goths who thought that it would be some sort of ticket to becoming a vampire themselves. Annabell had no sympathy for the latter and only a little for the former, but either way she wasn’t comfortable killing humans. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t do it if she needed to, but she never felt right about it.
The sun was dipping, the sky was turning red, and Annabell was turning the stake over in her hands. She loved this part. She never knew exactly when it would happen – some vampires snapped away the moment the last sliver of sun dipped below the horizon, others wouldn’t stir until the sky had turned totally dark. The age of a vampire had a lot to do with how powerful it was, but didn’t seem to have anything to do with when it would wake up.
This one rested in a bed rather than a coffin. Annabell appreciated that – the theatrics of the ones who insisted on capes and coffins always seemed silly to her. There were no windows in his bedroom, so she kept watch by peeking through the door. About five minutes after the last glint of the sun was gone, the thing on the bed started to twitch. When it woke up, the first thing it saw was Annabell, holding a stake to its exposed chest.
“What – what’s this?”
“Good morning, Herbert. You’re Catholic, right?” Annabell asked? That’s when it saw the crucifix hanging over the door to the bedroom, the only way out. She smiled at him. “I always come prepared.”
“Who are you?”
“Annabell,” she said.
“Anna… the Huntress?”
“I’ve been called that. I like it, frankly.”
The panic on its face was delicious. It looked scared, and she had a suspicion it hadn’t been scared in a long time, probably not since the first days after it turned, after it realized it wasn’t human anymore. It wasn’t that old, really, about thirty years since it turned. Its name, when alive, had been Herbert Lang, and it had only made cursory efforts at hiding its identity since then… Herbert Langdon, Herbert Larson, Harry Larson. It was currently going by Harry Lang, an act of concealment that Annabell could only attribute to laziness on his part. It made the thing very, very easy to track to its origins, its former religious faith, and its likely weaknesses.
His nose wrinkled. “Garlic?”
“Garlic powder, lots of it. I sprinkled it all around the bed. Not a fan, Herbie? Shame. I love the stuff.”
The fear on its face remained, but another sensation started to creep in – confusion. “Why am I…”
“Alive? Or whatever you call yourself, Herbert? Why haven’t I staked you, you mean? Well, that should be clear – I need to know something, and I think you can tell me.”
“Tell you? Tell you what?”
“Where it’s going to be.”
“What?”
She shoved the stake into his chest – not hard enough to penetrate the skin, but definitely hard enough to remind him of where it was. “I said where’s it gonna be, Herbie?”
“Where’s what gonna be?”
“The Gathering. The Feast, whatever it is you’re calling it this time around. I know it’s time again. I know it’s coming soon. I just need to know where.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? No reason to keep you here, then.” She nudged the stake forward and Herbert shrieked.
“Wait, wait!”
“Wait for what?”
“The Gathering! It’s going to happen on Halloween!”
“I know that, Herbie, it always happens on Halloween. You things are so good about keeping a regular schedule. That wasn’t what I asked. Where is it happening?”
“I don’t know yet! They don’t tell us until five days before it happens. They don’t even text us the name of the city, just the airport code.”
“Ah, I see.” She looked over at the bedside table, where a cell phone was plugged in to its charger. “Yours?” she asked. Herbert nodded, and she smiled.
“Well then, this can help me just as much as you can, can’t it?”
She gave the stake a much harder push. Herbert screamed, and the lazy vampire disappeared in a cloud of dust. Tucking the phone in her pocket, Annabell walked out of the house. They’d get the text on the 26th, then. Five days for Max to decide if he wanted to join her on the biggest vampire hunt of her life.
