Alex Van Helsing The Triumph of Death - By Jason Henderson Page 0,44

it rested on his nose and mouth, leaving his hands free.

Sangster gave the mike back to Alex. Why is he letting me do this? Alex thought, not for the first time. He was always amazed that Sangster seemed eager to step out of the way.

Alex clicked on the mike again. “We want to ask you some questions.”

There was another click. “Why should I answer your questions?” came the ghostly water-voice.

“Better accommodations,” Sangster muttered.

“If you answer our questions, we might be able to move you into a better place.” Alex spoke the words calmly, but he wasn’t sure if they came across that way. He wasn’t sure if it was true, and a bald lie could be difficult to mask.

Byron pursed his lips, swaying his head back and forth as if to say, All right. “What is it you want to know, little Van Helsing?”

“What do you know about the Dimmer Switch?”

Byron narrowed his eyes, studying Alex. “I’m not aware of anything called Dimmer Switch.”

“You might know it as Obscura Notte,” Alex said helpfully.

“Oh.” Byron clapped his hands slowly, his arms sliding in the water. The gesture made his body bob in the milky substance. “Of course.”

“Yes?”

“I first learned about Obscura Notte in 1935,” he said.

Alex’s ears pricked up and he leaned forward.

“Obscura Notte was the finest nightclub in all of Italy.” Byron laughed, creating a weird, gurgling sound in the mike.

“Hit it,” Sangster said, and Kristatos stepped on a button near the wall. There was a coarse, sizzling sound as electricity shot through the water. Alex saw a million tiny particles of silver light up in the fluid, and Byron’s body jolted uncontrollably. He raged at the glass as the shock died down.

Byron recovered as soon as the jolt passed, but it had made the point.

“I’m interested in real answers,” Alex said dully. “Do you know anything about it or not?”

“The Triumph of Death.” Byron was already composed, and when he clicked in, his gurgling voice sounded serene. “Why do you want to know?”

Alex looked at Sangster, who whispered, “Tell him it’s a random vampire.”

“There’s a threat,” Alex reported. “Some vampire is going to set it off. We want to know how to stop it.”

“Old or new?” came the answer.

“What?”

“Is this an old vampire or a new vampire?”

Alex thought. “We don’t know.”

“Don’t know or won’t say?”

“We don’t know.”

“Well, then you’re in trouble, because you need to know more.” Byron sounded amused, mocking.

“Why?”

“Well, after all, the spell is called the Triumph of Death. The end of light, of living, of love. Only love can conquer death.”

Alex frowned. “Come on. You conquered death. You’re alive.”

“We are death. There’s a difference.” Then Byron brought up his hand and a chunk of ice appeared in it, ready to shoot forward. But before it did, the ice went wild, shooting out in spirals around him. It encased his hand and he had to stop and pry the block off himself.

Now Alex understood how surrounding the Icemaker in water would foil him. There was too much water to control. Alex threw Kristatos an appreciative glance and she smiled slightly.

“Are you done?” Alex said into the mike. “So, go back—what do you mean, ‘Only love can conquer death’?”

“Don’t listen to me. I’m a poet.”

“I thought vampires don’t feel love.”

“It’s complicated.”

“So if we know the person casting this spell, we can maybe…stop them from casting it?”

“Well, how well do you know them?” Byron asked.

Alex stared calmly.

“Good lord, you’re thick,” Byron said. “Your father and I spent three days chasing one another through the sewers of Paris. Talking to you, I get the impression you’d have been looking for me in the wrong city to begin with. What I’m saying is, if you were the one casting the spell, I would be able to stop you. Do you know why?”

“Change the subject,” Sangster interrupted.

“You stop it by using the one whom the caster loves. So what I’m saying is that if it were you, I could absolutely stop it.”

“Why’s that, Byron?”

Byron put his hand flat on the glass, bringing his face forward. “Because I know you have a father who loves you. And a mother who loves you. And at least three of your four sisters love you. Don’t they, Alex? What do you think I could do to use them against you?”

Alex found himself stepping forward, pointing at Byron. “What I think is that you’re going to stay in this bath and shrivel up like a raisin while the world turns without you, you miserable excuse for a