The tall man with the wide-set eyes and the neatly trimmed beard stood like a pupil in front of the class, ready to start reciting. In a way, that was exactly what he did.
“We believe in freedom,” he began “and we believe that everyone should have as much freedom as they need. That’s why we support nonprofit organisations that pursue greater freedom for everyone: freedom of speech, freedom of choice, freedom of action against obsolete laws.
“We believe in equality for everyone. That’s why we invest in companies that have prioritised gender, racial, and religious equality above plain profits. We invest in gender reassignment clinics because we believe they combine the best of freedom and equality. We support law firms that defend people and groups seeking greater freedom and equality in a world that has been too slow to recognise the direction of progress today. We support legislation that pushes the boundary further on these issues.”
An unpleasant prickling prompted Fros to rub her arm, only to realise the prickling came from the hairs that were standing on end under her shirt. There was a robotic hint in Kasper’s voice but it was nothing compared to the ecstatic gleam in his eyes, which gazed at the far wall of the warehouse. He was reciting all right and he believed what he was reciting.
“We believe in a better future where love, the life force of the universe, will prevail. Love in all its forms – of other people, of the planet, of life itself. Our purpose is to bring about a future where political polarisation will become a thing of the past and where hate speech and hate crimes will not exist. Hate will be eradicated.
“We invest in new school curricula, we plan and build new living and working spaces – did you know how important the space you inhabit is for your mind? – and we seek to educate children and adults alike on the benefits of a whole new model of civilisation where everyone will be much more accomplished and fulfilled.
“We believe in a cleaner world, too, so we are investing in low-carbon energy for the future. A happier life is a cleaner life, and a cleaner life does not depend on fossil fuels. We are at war with fossil fuels and are not ashamed to admit it. We fund radical environmental groups and lobby politicians because we need to move fast and make more people healthy again.
“We believe in a fairer future where everyone will have a guaranteed income regardless of whether they work or not. Economic growth is obsolete. We need to replace it with an indicator of people’s wellbeing, of their happiness, subjective as it might be. We invest in degrowth initiatives and we support them in other ways, with our human resources and knowledge base. I myself was recruited for that very department,” he added with a modest smile.
“We are the Children of Ishtar, which means we are the children of love and justice, and equality. Defending these is our mission. Dying for these is our honour. We will prevail.”
Kasper stopped talking and his body relaxed, as though someone had flipped a switch. Peter walked out from behind the desk.
“That last bit is not an official chant or anything, by the way. He’s just enthusiastic. They don’t have an official chant. Just so you know we’re not dealing with a bunch of playground fanatics.”
The blanket of silence weighted on Fros’s shoulders.
“That was a lot of ideology,” Tom said and the blanket dissipated. He smelled of contemplation – a smell Fros had always associated with freshly picked mushrooms. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant one but it promised tastiness in the near future.
“That was a plan to create the perfect herd,” Tal said and stepped forward, glaring at Kasper, who did not seem to register his presence at all. He looked straight ahead with an amiable smile on his face. “They want to make us confused, stupid, and uncritical so they can take over more easily. That’s what this talk was all about, wasn’t it?”
Peter nodded once and turned to Fros.
“What?” she said. Her stomach signalled it might start heaving any second now, even though it had to be empty. She hadn’t eaten anything all day except a toast when she got out of bed. “To me it sounded like a lot of ideological crap, like Tom said. Tal may be right but I doubt it can affect everyone.”
Fros made sure to say this with the appropriate amount of conviction. This wasn’t just a lot of ideological crap. It was far-reaching, wide-spanning ideological crap that might not affect anyone but could certainly affect enough to make a difference. It was already making a difference – all those protesters blocking roads and wreaking havoc on traffic to demand the end of oil or some such nonsense were making a lot of people angrier than usual. They were also making a lot of people think, Fros suspected. However, she pointedly refused to spend more than two seconds on that thought. She was busy trying to remember how you killed vampires quickly, besides emergency pencils and besides biting their heads off. Fros was not tasting another vampire’s memories, ever. But the brain trust of those Children of Ishtar had to be neutralised before their vision moved any closer to reality. The perfect herd, Tal had said.
“It doesn’t need to affect everyone,” Tal said, for some reason unaware of the signals Fros had forgotten to broadcast about the need to focus on the task at hand, which was finding a way to kill presumably well protected vampires quickly without risking the lives of the humans present. “It only needs to affect enough people to start spreading the message, and then they will take care of the rest. I say we go after them.”
“How?” Fros barked at him. The fervour that rang in his voice and the fresh jasmine enthusiasm in his smell, laced with sour apples, awoke her aggressiveness, which had already been stirring restlessly. The way Tal talked and the way he smelled strongly suggested he was eager to get himself killed or worse.
“How do we ‘go after them’, Tal? With flamethrowers? With an army we raise from thin air? What do we go after them with if they are already this powerful?”
“This shouldn’t be an excuse, Fros,” Jules said, ready to fight, the same jasmine and sour apple smell on her, too. Sour apples were the worst – the smell of warriors going into battle knowing full well their odds of surviving were ten to one at best. “If all this is true and I suspect it is, we need to do something about it.”
“I might have a vague idea,” Peter said just before Fros smacked Jules with something heavy on the head. We needed to do something about it made for a perfect epitaph.
“And it is?” Fros said, using politeness as a lifebelt in a sea of anger that was bubbling up inside her. A boiling sea. Peter had returned after months of silence and just as she was beginning to consider allowing herself the hope that maybe things could become normal – or any approximation thereof – he was throwing them all into a global conspiracy they had zero chance of stopping. Unless everyone knew something she didn’t.
“We need to take out the leadership,” Peter said. “Mikkel only has half a dozen close friends. I can take care of that but I’ll need some help with the logistics. Once we take out the brain, the whole structure will break down sooner or later. It is possible to do, Fros. And no one here will be risking their life,” he added.
“Like assassins,” Rio said, a childlike happiness ringing in his voice and permeating his aromatic aura. It smelled like wet grass. “That’s brilliant.”
“Yes!” Tony chimed in for some unfathomable reason. His eyes gleamed. They didn’t normally gleam. The sour-apple smell was on all of them.
“What are you two on about?” Jules asked.
“Assassin’s Creed,” Tony said, beating Rio by half a blink. “It’s a videogame. It’s the videogame, for me at least. It’s about an order of professional assassins who… Well, no, it’s about a lot more than that but suffice to say it’s about assassins.”
“Who can kill people no one else can get to,” Rio supplied. “And they’re moral, too.”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly…” Tony started.
“Ezio was moral,” Rio said.
“Excuse me.” Fros had to step forward to make them stop blabbering like a couple of lunatics. “Thank you for the videogame update. Now, for some reality.” She turned to Peter who had watched the exchange with a slight smile of satisfaction. “Do you propose we infiltrate the Children of Ishtar and start taking out its leadership one by one? Is that your solution?” she asked pleasantly.
Peter wasn’t fooled by the pleasantness. He had come prepared.
“We have already infiltrated them,” he said. “I’m pretty tight with Mikkel, and Bobby is a member. A respected member, I might add.”
“Really?” Fros didn’t bother trying to conceal her disbelief. “In less than a month of membership?”
Bobby grinned.
“They like law and order people. So they like private detectives. I’m respected by default.”
“So,” Fros said casually, “Does this mean there are many Children of Ishtar in law and order agencies?”
The grin melted.
“There are, yes,” Bobby said. “They really like people who can order everyone else around.”
“There’s another reason you’re so well respected, though,” Peter said. “You’re special.”
For the first time since she had met Bobby Musgrave, Fros saw her look uncomfortable.
“It’s not important,” she mumbled.
“Oh, but it is,” Peter insisted. “Bobby is special because she is a – well, you could say a volunteer. She wanted to become a vampire, unlike Kasper here who didn’t really know what was happening until orientation. We have orientation,” Peter told Fros with a confidential nod.
“So… are there many volunteers in the Children of Ishtar?” Jules asked.
“Nope,” Peter said happily. “Which means once we take out the leaders, the rest will disperse—”
“And start forming offshoots of the Children of Ishtar and we end up worse than we started,” Fros said. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“We will probably have to do some follow-up cleaning,” Peter admitted with a nod. “And when I say we, I mean I will do the actual deeds for obvious reasons. You will be the home front, as it were,” he said with a pointed glance at Fros that said he was perfectly well aware of her concerns about everyone’s health and safety. It won’t be quick but it’s the only way that would work.”
Fros wanted to cross her arms but didn’t. She wanted to ask ‘So, how do we take the leaders out, then,’ but didn’t.
“So, how do we take these top vampires out, then?” Tom said. “It sounds like a good start but something tells me it wouldn’t be as easy as Jules and that pencil when she took out Marlena.”
“You’ve killed a vampire?” Rio’s admiration filled the room like fog. “With a pencil?”
“Yes, well, it was an emergency,” Jules said with Fros knew for a fact to be fake modesty. “I expect we’d need to be more subtle with that Mikkel and his friends. Also, I think you’re ignoring the human part of the project, Peter,” Jules said. “We’d need to—”
“We’d need to be suicidal,” Fros corrected, unable to feign lack of interest any longer. “That’s what we’d need to be. We’re not talking vampires that were made a month ago, are we? I bet we’re in ancient territory with that Mikkel and his friends. And the older a vampire is, the more tricks he knows and, therefore, the harder he is to kill. Isn’t he, Peter? You’ve told me so yourself. And what about his maker?” She was gathering speed as her brain vomited one unpleasant question after another.
“His maker is dead,” Peter said. “At the hands of another vampire. Long time ago.”
“But he’s stronger than you. Much stronger,” Fros insisted.
“He is,” Peter said with a nod and zero agitation at Fros’s accusing tone. “They are all old, much older than me. But another thing about older vampires is that they become rigid. Complacent. They have survived for so long they begin to assume they would never die. They begin to feel secure. So they begin to get careless.”
Silence filled the pause Peter made at that point. Fros was thinking about the taste of vampire blood in her mouth and about the difference between videogames and real life. In games, when you died you came back. In real life, you had to be a vampire to do this. This last thought was disconcerting, so she began betting against herself who would be the first suicidal enthusiast to break the silence. Her bet was on Jules. She lost.
“It makes sense,” Tom said. The subtle burnt sugar smell in the air around him should have been a hint. Tom may not be feeling enthusiastic to go into battle with vampires but he was feeling righteous and when Tom felt righteous someone died. “They get careless and we can use this carelessness to neutralise them.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Peter said. “I was thinking…”
“Wait a second,” Fros said. “You said you could make vampires do what you tell them to do, didn’t you? So, why don’t you just tell them to kill themselves? Problem solved and no one needs to risk their life for it.”
A rare expression flickered across Peter’s face. Embarrassment. Fros committed it to memory for those long winter nights she’d have nothing to think about and, she dared hope, nothing to taunt Peter about. If they made it to winter, that is.
“I did say that and it’s true,” Peter said. “But it’s not as universal as I may have made it sound. It works best on young vampires, decently on ones around my age and it doesn’t really work on the old ones.”
“So, you can’t go up to Mikkel and tell him ‘Fall on this pencil?’” Fros clarified.
“Not really. I wouldn’t have called you all here if I could.”
“Okay, so they’re careless. What does this carelessness translate into?” Tony asked. “How do we take advantage of it?”
“Well, for one thing they let me come back home,” Peter said. “Because they trust me. I managed to convince them I can be trusted in two months. That’s how careless they’ve become. That and the genuine belief they are doing a good thing.”
Fros’s stomach rumbled loudly. Everyone turned to look at her.
“Sorry. I missed dinner,” she said.
Peter’s mouth twitched into a smile.
“I’ll take you to dinner once we’re done here.”
Suddenly a rumbling stomach wasn’t Fros’s biggest problem. She could snap at him all she wanted but it wouldn’t change anything, least of all the fact that despite her attacks on Peter’s ideas, she would do whatever they decided to do based on those ideas. It was only partially related to her feelings for him. It was a lot more related to another feeling that was significantly more unpleasant than those other feelings.
“Wait, I have an idea,” Rio said, enthusiasm pushing his hand up in the air. “Can’t you make the young vampires turn on the old ones? That would be neat.”
Peter shook his head.
“I’m afraid I’ve misled you into thinking my powers are much greater than they actually are. I can only influence the perception of one vampire at a time, two at most. And it works for no more than a few hours, a bit longer if the vampire is new. That’s not enough time to plan and execute a large-scale attack on the leadership of the Children of Ishtar, especially since they are scattered across the world. But it would have been great if I had the kind of powers you think I had,” he told the crestfallen Rio.
“Couldn’t you just kill them in their sleep?” Jules blurted out. “You lived with them, right? They trusted you? At least that Mikkel trusted you, right? Couldn’t you sneak into his coffin or something and end him, then do the same with the others, one by one? I realise it’s far-fetched,” she added when Peter opened his mouth to respond. “I’m trying to get the whole picture. What was that about makers?” she added.
“I didn’t kill them in their sleep because they have security,” Peter said. “Careless does not mean stupid, yet. And I didn’t risk killing them at any other time because they had leverage over me.” He fell silent.
Fros clenched her teeth. Here it was, the reason she would take part in whatever plan Peter devised for bringing down the Children of Ishtar, whether she liked it or not.
“What leverage?” Jules asked and her eyes unconsciously darted towards Fros. “Do you know?”
Fros looked down and so did Tal.
“Fros and Tal,” Peter said. “Mikkel had them under constant surveillance in case I decided to do something silly as he put it. If I did, they would die.”
That wasn’t entirely accurate but the rest of them didn’t need to know what Peter had told her while they were alone in the forest. Tal would die. She wouldn’t.
“So all this time…” Rio began.
“He was turning innocent people into vampires so Tal and I don’t get killed, yes,” Fros said, her ears burning with either fury or more guilt, or perhaps both, she wasn’t a hundred percent sure.
This time the silence stuck around longer as everyone digested the message Fros had received the previous night straight from Peter – who had told her she had nothing to feel guilty about because she had had zero say in the decision to turn her into a guarantee that Peter would do what he was told.
He had pointed out Tal was in the same position and he didn’t feel guilty. Fros had responded by stating that how Tal felt was his business and no one else’s. Peter had resorted to physical force to put an end to Fros’s guilt trip.
“So, how do we do it?” Jules said. “How do we use these vampires’ false sense of security to bring them down? Because I can tell you right away, I’m up for many things but becoming a vampire is not one of them.”
“That’s strange,” Tal said. “I thought you’d be dying to play out one of the TV shows you love.”
Jules tensed, ready to lunge at him, when she saw his smile and deflated.
“Yeah, maybe some other time,” she said before turning to Peter. They were all watching Peter. “How do we do it, Peter?”
“I haven’t quite finalised the specifics,” he said. “I called you here so we all know exactly where we stand and what we have at our disposal. Which is not much, I admit. Bobby and I will do the actual, let’s call it elimination, and the rest of you could create a distraction big enough to help us get to them. If anyone has an idea already, please do share – unless it involves pencils.” No one laughed.
“Bobby?” Fros said.
Bobby nodded with no hint of hesitation.
“I told you Fros. I don’t want my kids to grow up in a herd.”
Silence made another appearance, briefer this time.
“Okay,” Peter said. “We’re all on the same page now. Let’s take a week to think about it and meet here to discuss. You’re all free to refuse to take part, of course,” he added. “I don’t want you to think you are under any obligation to risk your lives. Saving the world’s only exciting in fiction, as Fros says. That said, any ideas you might have about keeping the leaders otherwise occupied so we can take them out are more than welcome.”
Peter needed help with taking down Mikkel and his friends but he didn’t want anyone but him and Bobby to risk their lives. Apparently, he truly believed these two were not mutually exclusive. Fros had bad news for him and she wasn’t about to delay their delivery.
“A week,” Tom said before she could launch into her reality check tirade. “Will you be making more vampires in the meantime?”
“No,” Peter said. “We’re taking a break from new recruitments because the news of people’s disappearings and reapearrings seems to have spread.” He glanced at Tony. “One of the Children in Germany alerted Mikkel that someone had been asking questions about Andreas Neller and Jesper Kreitling.”
A burst of dairy smell filled the room.
“You couldn’t make it subtle, could you?” Jules told Tal.
“I never thought they’ll have a warning system,” Tony said. “I’m so sorry. It never occurred to me. Do they…”
“No, they don’t know who it was that was asking questions. You’re safe. I’m only mentioning it so you know what we are dealing with. And to thank you for a much needed break,” Peter said.
Half an hour later everyone had gone except Kasper who, after his presentation, had sat quietly behind the desk. Once the door closed behind Tom and Jules – the last to go – Fros glanced at him but the man seemed deep in his own thoughts.
“Can he hear us?” she asked quietly.
Peter shook his head.
“How much longer can you control him?”
“This one? I think I can keep him until morning,” he said. “But I promised you dinner, so we should probably go. He’ll keep.”
“Wait”. Fros took him by the shoulder as he came up to her. She didn’t have to, he had stopped, but she needed to touch him. Not that she had any doubts the situation they were in was real. For too long, she hadn’t been able to touch him. She was catching up. The moment she did, Peter turned and moved closer to her.
“Do you have a special idea for dinner?” he asked, the scent of musk and tangerines filling all available air. “Or shall we postpone?”
Fros moved her hand to his chest. It didn’t seem to distract him, so she pushed gently. He stopped.
“What are we going to do, Peter?” she asked, glancing at Kasper again. The complete stillness of the man, like a puppet at rest, made her nervous. “You can talk all you want about plans and assassination but this sounds like a massive organisation. You can’t just go in, take out the security and cut Mikkel’s head off in his sleep, even with Bobby’s help and mine. You can’t assume the rest of the leaders won’t notice one of their own was dead. And Rio? Tony? They’re practically chomping at the bit. Are you really sure they will be safe?”
Peter stroked her hair.
“We’ll make sure,” he said and added, as she began rolling her eyes, “They’ll be the brain power. Me and Bobby will be the only ones physically involved, so to speak. We could take a pencil, just in case.”
Fros shook her head.
“It’s not funny,” she said. Her stomach rumbled again. “Okay, I really need food. What did you have in mind for dinner?”
With one last, pointed look at Kasper, who returned it meekly before casting his eyes down at the desk again, Peter led Fros out of the warehouse.
“I met a loan shark a while ago,” he said as he locked the door. “Slightly overweight, plump, you could say, and with at least half a dozen lives on his conscience. One wonders what the police are doing about business practices involving lending at a hundred-percent interest.”
Fros stayed silent until they reached Peter’s car – one of the sports ones. When she got in, she spoke.
“Why did you leave him there?”
Peter looked surprised by the question.
“You didn’t want me to take him with us, did you?”
“No, but… He looked like a robot,” she said and winced. “It’s weird and sinister.”
Peter sighed as he turned the key in the ignition. The car started moving, as smoothly as a warm knife cutting into butter.
“Yes, it’s probably weird but I’m not exactly full of options. I have orders to eliminate him. I just haven’t had time to get around to it.”
The temperature in the car seemed to drop suddenly and sharply.
“Are you perhaps thinking of using him as a training dummy or something like that?”
The look of genuine horror he shot her made the inside of the car warm again.
“Sorry,” Fros mumbled and tightened her crossed arms around her chest. “Conspiracy overload, I guess.”
“It’s not a bad idea, to be honest,” Peter said. “But we already know what works on vampires.”
“Yeah, pencils and beheading by basilisk,” she said grimly. “I’m not doing it.”
“What, the pencils or the beheading?”
Fros was not letting that smile show – she pursed her lips until they hurt.
“Not very funny given the circumstances,” she said and looked up. “How are we going to take them down, Peter? Really? Conspiring in warehouses is all very good and exciting but you already do have an idea, don’t you? You have the how, so share,” she added.
“Well,” he said and turned the car onto a street that featured a total of one and a half functioning street lamps, the half belonging to a lamp that flickered in and out of life. The street also featured a row of modest houses, all dark at this hour. Peter parked at the end of the row of cars lining the street.
“I was thinking of setting up a trap,” he said and turned off the engine. “Luring the top leadership into it and when they least expect it… Beheading them. With a weapon,” he rushed to add.
“What sort of trap would that be?” Fros asked.
“Ah,” Peter said with a sheepish smile. “That, I admit, is the million-dollar or rather million-life question. I was thinking about delivering some high-profile politician to them. They like high-profile politicians. You know, a member like that would really make them feel powerful. So, I was thinking some prime minister or—”
“Or me,” Fros finished. The thought dropped like a leaden weight in the pit of her stomach and pinned her to the seat. “You can deliver me to them.”
“What? No. I was thinking about some celebrity.” Peter’s look of outrage would have been highly amusing any other day. “I’m not delivering you to them.”
“But you said they wanted me.” The disappointed note in Fros’s voice made her question her sanity for a second. “You said they’d kill Tal and me if you disobeyed.”
Peter began to say something and stopped. He tried again.
“They don’t agree on basilisks. Sarah is a fan of sorts. She appreciates the… medicinal properties. Mikkel, as I told you, believes you’re an abomination. He wouldn’t mind killing you himself.” The nervous tension spread like a cloud, filling the car’s already small interior.
“So, let’s give him the opportunity,” Fros pressed as her insides slowly frosted over. Hunger was temporarily forgotten, thank the universe for small mercies.
Peter turned and glared at her.
“Have you developed a death wish I don’t know about? Suddenly suicidal? Why do you insist on risking your life? We can do it without that risk.”
“Because it’s easier to bring me to them instead of the prime minister, that’s why. The man has security in case you’d failed to notice due to overworking. Getting caught in an attempt to kidnap the PM is not what we want, is it?”
Peter scoffed.
“Please,” he said. “They’re not going to catch me.”
Fros turned to face him over the central console.
“And then what? You bring them a high-profile recruit, lure them into the trap and then what? You can take out one. Bobby can take out one, if she’s lucky. I can take out one, with or without a weapon. And the others? How many did you say they were?”
“Five,” Peter said and leaned back into the seat. “There’s five of them.”
“But if you take me to them, I can turn and,” she gritted her teeth, “and dispose of them all. And no one needs to get hurt.”
“Except you,” he said grimly. “These are old vampires, Fros, not hundred-year-olds like Tina.” He paused, his mouth a tight line of agitation. “This is not happening,” he informed her and opened the door. “Let’s go have dinner. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
“Will you drop me off at my car when we’re done?” she asked innocently as the plan began to take shape in her head. There was no other viable way of doing what they had apparently set out to do. Perhaps she could devise some sort of a filter for the blood. Or just suck it up – literally and figuratively.
“No, I’m taking you straight home. I’ll send someone to get your car back tomorrow,” Peter said stiffly and crossed the street.
“And by home you mean…”
“Your place,” he said, curtness itself. He knocked on the chosen door – a dull green thing. “Unless, of course, you’d rather be alone.”
“Home’s fine,” Fros said. “Is anything the matter?”
A quick and furious look was the only answer Peter could provide because the door opened before he could start pouring out words.
“Yes?” the man who had opened it said. Indeed, plump was a word that could be used for him. Fat was an even better word and so was tasty.
“We’re here on business,” Peter said and grabbed the man by the throat before pushing him inside. Fros followed and diligently locked the door behind her.