23 Hours: A Vengeful Vampire Tale(49)

Around the central command center a skeleton crew of half-deads were bent over control panels and computer terminals, monitoring the prison’s security systems. The largest number of them were gathered around a monitor at the far end of the room, where they pointed at the screen and giggled among themselves.

On the screen, Laura was standing next to a woman Clara didn’t recognize. They were both staring at something intensely, something just above their heads.

Clara’s heart sank when she saw her lover there. She had known Laura was at large in the prison, but she’d been able to imagine her crawling through ventilation ducts or hiding in some out-of-the-way spot—she could imagine Laura somewhere safe. From the grainy low-resolution image on the screen, however, she could tell that Laura had been putting herself in danger. As always. Her face was stained with blood or something darker and her clothes were spotted with gore.

Clara turned away from the screen. She couldn’t look at Laura anymore, or her heart would start breaking all over again.

In the center of the room a video camera had been mounted on a tripod. Malvern led Clara in front of the camera while the warden stepped over to operate its controls. For a while they just stood there, while the camera’s lens zoomed in and out. The warden cursed and adjusted a lever on the side of the camera.

“Dawn approaches,” Malvern said. “Make haste.”

“This isn’t my specialty,” the warden explained, and pressed a button near the front of the camera. Then she cursed and tried another. A red light lit up on the front of the camera, which meant it was recording.

Clara looked out the windows and saw that a smudge of dark blue was fighting with the black night sky. The sun would rise any minute, and when it did she knew that Malvern would have to be back in her coffin. Vampires weren’t burned by the light of the sun, but at the moment of dawn each day they died once again, inevitably, no matter how strong or old or clever they might be. Their bodies liquefied inside their coffins, their tissues breaking down so they could repair any damage taken during the night.

“Give her the placard,” Malvern insisted.

The warden leaned around the camera to hand Clara a piece of paper that read 23 HOURS. Clara held it in front of her. Malvern was holding her arm, and Clara knew if she didn’t do as she was bid it would take no effort at all for the vampire to snap her bones like matchsticks.

“Very well, now end it,” Malvern directed.

“Yeah, yeah,” the warden said, and flipped a switch. The red light blinked off. “You know, you don’t have to be so cryptic. Twenty-three hours, fine, that’s an hour before dawn tomorrow, but what happens then? You didn’t explain at all. And what use is making a threat if you don’t even tell her what you want? There are loudspeakers in every room of the prison. We can broadcast your terms over and over, make sure Caxton gets the message.”

“Don’t question me, woman,” Malvern said, her usual convivial tone audibly cooling down. “Laura will know what I expect of her. Some games are best played in silence. Such as—”

“Fine, I’ve got it,” the warden said. “Whist must be a hell of a game, I’m sure. Listen, there’s still time before dawn, if you wanted to pass the curse on to me. That way I could be by your side tomorrow night, when Caxton comes gunning for you.”

“Play this message on the screen Laura is watching,” Malvern ordered, ignoring the warden’s plea. The half-deads around the security monitors jumped to attention and started tapping commands onto computer keyboards. “Play it again and again until we’re sure she’s seen it. You lot,” she said, “ready my coffin. The time has come. While I slumber, see ye mind her as you would me.” She gathered herself up and prepared to leave.

“Wait,” the warden said.

Malvern turned, a cold, imperious look in her eye.

“Please,” the warden said. “You made me a promise. I’ve carried out your plan well, haven’t I? I’ve done everything you asked.”

“And ye shall be rewarded. In due time. When Caxton is mine, ye shall—”

“Fuck Caxton!” the warden shrieked. “She’s never going to do what you want. She’ll never be what you want her to be. Focusing on her is a ridiculous mistake!”

What happened next was impossible for the human eye to follow.

Clara felt as if someone had hit her elbow with a baseball bat. Malvern had run across the room without letting go of Clara’s arm first. The pain was intense. Even worse, as her arm flew up in response, the alarm on her electroshock restraint went off. It blared out a warning tone so loud it made her vision go dim. She froze in place, knowing that if she remained motionless for a second the stun package wouldn’t fire and she wouldn’t be sent into convulsions.