The Night Eternal by Guillermo del Toro, Chuck Hogan Read Free Book Online Page B

… , ” both the creatures said at the same time, their voices chirping in eerie synchrony. Their bodies rose like twin marionettes controlled by the same invisible string. The Master.
    Eph observed, both fascinated and repulsed, how their blank stare gave way to the intelligence, the poise of the superior creature—undulating, snapping to attention, like a leather glove snapping into shape as the hand fills it with form and intention.
    The pale, elongated faces of the creatures morphed as the will of the Master overtook the flaccid mouths and the vacant eyes …
    “ You look … quite tired … , ” the twin marionettes said, their bodies moving in unison. “I think you should rest … don’t you think? Join us. Give in. I will procure for you. Anything you want …”
    The monster was right: he was tired—oh, so very, very tired—and yes, he would’ve liked to give in. Can I? he thought. Please? Give in?
    His eyes brimmed with tears and he felt his knees give—just a little—like a man about to sit down. “ The people you love—the ones you miss—they live in my embrace … , ” the twin messengers said, their message worded so carefully. So inviting, so ambiguous …
    Eph’s hands trembled as he reached back over each shoulder, gripping the worn leather handles of his two long swords. He drew them out straight so as not to slice his weapon pack. Maybe it was the opioid kicking in, but something clicked deep inside his brain, something that made him associate these two monstrosities, female and male, with Nora and Fet. His lover and his trusted friend, now conspiring against him. It was as though they themselves had come upon Eph here, rummaging through the drug cabinet like a junkie, witnessing him at his lowest moment—for which they were directly responsible.
    “ No, ” he said, renouncing the Master with a broken whimper, his voice breaking even in that single syllable. And rather than push his emotions aside, Eph brought them to the fore, molded them into rage.
    “ As you wish, ” the Master said. “ I will see you again … soon …”
    And then, the will gave way to the hunters. Snorting, huffing, the beasts came back, leaving behind the poised, erect stance and landing on all fours, ready to circle their prey. Eph did not give the vampires a chance to flank him. He rushed straight at the male first, both swords at the ready. The vamp leaped away from him at the last moment—they were agile and fast—but not before Eph’s sword tip caught it across the side of its torso. The slash was deep enough to make the vampire land off-balance, the wound leaking white blood. Strigoi rarely felt any bodily pain, but they felt it when the weapon was silver. The creature twisted and gripped its side.
    In that moment of hesitation and inattention, Eph spun and brought his other sword across at shoulder height. One slice removed the head from the neck and shoulders, severing it just beneath the jaw. The vampire’s arms went up in a reflex of self-protection before its trunk and limbs collapsed.
    Eph turned again just as the female was in the air. It had vaulted the counter, springing at him with its twin taloned middle fingers poised to cut at his face—but Eph was just able to deflect its arms with his own as the vampire flew past, landing hard against the wall, slumping to the floor. Eph lost both his swords in the process. His hands were so weak. Oh, yes, yes, please—I want to give up.
    The strigoi quickly sprang onto all fours, facing Eph from a crouch. Its eyes bore into him, surrogates of the Master, the evil presence that had taken everything from him. Eph’s rage flared anew. He swiftly produced his grappling hooks and braced for impact. The vampire charged and Eph went for it—the vampire wattle dangling beneath its chin made for a perfect target. He had done this move hundreds of times—like a worker in a fish plant scaling a big tuna. One hook connected with the throat behind the wattle,