Dr. Nora Martinez.
Barnes swallowed. The Master knew so much.
“Yes, I had just recently discovered that she had been placed inside the camp.”
Recently? I see … How recently?
“Moments before the upheaval, sir. In any event, I was actively engaged in trying to derive information from her pertaining to Dr. Goodweather’s location and his resistance partners. I thought a less formal, more congenial exchange might be advantageous. As opposed to direct confrontation, which I believe would only have given her the opportunity to prove her fidelity to her friends. I hope you agree. Unfortunately, it was at that time that the marauders entered the main camp, and the alarm was given, and security arrived to evacuate me.”
Barnes could not help but glance at the former Kelly Goodweather now and then, standing in the distance behind the Master, her arms hanging slack. So strange to be talking about her husband and yet see no reaction from her.
You located a member of their group and failed to inform me immediately?
“As I said, I
barely had any time to react and … I … I was quite surprised, you understand, caught off guard. I thought I might get farther using a personal approach—she used to work for me, you realize. I had hoped I might be able to leverage my personal relationship with her to derive some helpful information before turning her over to you.”
Barnes maintained a smile, even the fake confidence behind it, as he felt the Master’s presence inside his mind, like a thief rummaging through an attic. Barnes was certain that human prevarication was a concern well beneath the vampire lord.
The head within the hood lifted a moment, and Barnes realized the Master was regarding the religious fresco.
You lie. And you are terrible at it. So—why don’t you try telling me the truth and see if you’re any better at that?
Barnes shuddered and before he realized it, he had explained all the details of his clumsy attempts at seduction and his relationship to both Nora and Eph. The Master said nothing for a moment, then turned.
You killed her mother. They will seek you. For revenge. And I will keep you available for them … that will bring them to me. From this time forward, you may commit your attention fully to your assigned duty. The resistance is nearly at an end.
“It is?” Barnes quickly closed his mouth; he certainly had not meant to question or doubt. If the Master said it was so, then it was so. “Good, then. We have the other camps coming into production, and as I say, repairs on the letting facility at Camp Liberty are ongoing—”
Say no more. Your life is safe for now. But never lie to me again. Never hide from me again. You are neither brave nor smart. Efficient extraction and packaging of human blood is your mission. I recommend that you excel at it.
“I plan to. I mean—I will, sir. I am.”
Central Park
ZACHARY GOODWEATHER WAITED until Belvedere Castle was quiet and still. He emerged from his room into the sickly sunlight of the meridiem. He walked to the edge of the stone plaza at the top of the rise and looked out at the vacant land below. The vampire guards had retreated from the wan light into caves specially blasted into the schist that formed the foundation of the castle. Zachary returned inside the castle to retrieve his black parka before jogging down the walk into the park in violation of the human curfew.
The Master enjoyed watching the boy break rules, test boundaries. The Master never slumbered in the castle, deeming it too vulnerable to attack during the two-hour sun window. The Master preferred his hidden crypt at the Cloisters, buried in a cool bed of old soil. During the downtime of the daylight slumber, the Master had taken to seeing the surface world through Zachary’s eyes, exploiting their bond formed by the Master’s blood treatment of Zachary’s asthma.
The boy unplugged his all-terrain Segway Personal Transporter and rode silently along the park path south to his zoo. At the entrance, he made three circles before opening the front gate, part of his developing obsessive-compulsive disorder. Inside, he rode to the locked case his rifle was kept in, producing the key he had stolen months before. He touched the key to his lips seven times and, properly reassured, undid the lock and pulled out the rifle. He checked the four-round load, double- and triple-checking it until his compulsion was satisfied, and then set off through the zoo with the weapon at his side.
His interest did not lie with the zoo anymore. He had created for himself a secret exit in the wall behind the Tropic Zone and now got off the Segway and emerged into the park, walking west. He stayed off the trails, preferring the tree cover as he walked past the skating rink and the old baseball fields, now mud fields, counting his steps in multiples of seventy-seven until he reached the far side of Central Park South.
He emerged from the trees, venturing out as far as the old Merchant’s Gate entrance, remaining on the sidewalk behind the USS Maine monument. Columbus Circle stood before him, only half of the fountain shoots working, the rest clogged with sediment from the polluted rain. Beyond it, the high-rise towers stood like the smokestacks of a closed factory. Zachary sighted the figure of Columbus atop the fountain statue, blinking his eyes and smacking his lips in unison seven times before he was comfortable.
He saw movement across the wide traffic circle. People, humans, striding across the far sidewalk. Zachary could only make out their long coats and backpacks at that distance. Curfew breakers. Zachary ducked behind the monument at first, flushed with the danger of being discovered, then crept to the other edge of the monument base, peering around it.
The group of four people continued, unaware of him. Zachary sighted them with his weapon, blinking and lip-smacking, using what he had learned about shooting to gauge trajectory and distance. They were tightly grouped, and Zachary thought he had a clear shot, a good chance.
He wanted to fire. He wanted to open up on them.
And so he did, but purposefully pulled his aim high at the last second before squeezing the trigger. A moment later the group stopped, looking his way. Zack remained low and still next to the monument base, certain he would blend in with the backdrop.
He fired three more times: Crack! Crack! Crack! He got one! One was down! Zack quickly reloaded.
The targets ran, turning down the avenue and out of Zack’s view. He drew aim on a traffic light they had passed, just able to make out a sign indicating one of the old police security cameras posted there. He turned and ran back into the cover of the park trees, chased only by the sensation of his secret thrill.
This city in daylight was the domain of Zachary Goodweather! Let all trespassers be warned!