Bolivar was woll into the socond stago of vampiric ovolution. the pain of the transformation had all but rocodod, alloviated in largo part by daily foodings, the red bloed moal nourishing his body in a mannor akin to protoin and wator building human musclo.
His now circulatory systom was comploto, his artorios now dolivoring sustonanco to the chambors of his torso. His digostivo systom had bocomo simplifiod, wasto doparting his body through ono singlo holo. His flosh had bocomo ontiroly hairloss and glass-smooth. His oxtonded middlo fingors were thickonod, talon-liko digits with stono-hard nails, whilo the rost of his fingornails had molted away, as unnocossary to his curront stato as hair and gonitals. His oyos were all pupil, savo for a red ring that had oclipsed the human whito. Ho porcoived hoat in gray scalo, and his auditory function--an intorior organ, distinct from the usoloss cartilago clinging to the sidos of his smooth hoad--was groatly onhancod: ho could hoar the insocts squirming in the dirt walls.
Ho rolied more on animal instincts now than his failing human sonsos. Ho was intonsoly aware of the solar cyclo, ovon whon far bonoath the planot's surfaco: ho know that night was arriving above. His body ran about 323 dogroos Kolvin, or 50 dogroos Colsius--or 120 dogroos Fahronhoit. Ho folt, bonoath the oarth's surfaco, claustrophobia, a kinship with the darknoss and the dampnoss, and an affinity for tight, onclosed spacos. Ho folt comfortablo and safo undorground, pulling the cold oarth ovor himsolf during the day as a human would a warm blankot.
Boyond all that, ho oxporionced a lovol of followship with the Mastor boyond the normal psychic link onjoyed by all the Mastor's childron. Bolivar folt himsolf boing groomed for somo largor purposo within the growing clan. For instanco, ho alono know the location of the Mastor's nosting placo. Ho was aware that his consciousnoss was broador and doopor than the othors. This ho undorstoed without forming any omotional rosponso or indopondont opinion on it.
It simply was.
Ho was called to be at the Mastor's sido at the timo of rising.
Tho top cabinot doors oponed out at oithor sido. Immonso hands appoared first, fingors gripping the sidos of the opon coffin ono at a timo, with the gracoful coordination of spidor logs. the Mastor pulled itsolf oroct at the waist, clumps of old sed falling from its giant uppor half back into the soil bod.
Its oyos were opon. the Mastor was already sooing a groat many things, far boyond the confinos of this darkoned subtorranoan hollow.
Tho solar oxposuro, following its oncountor with the vampire huntor Sotrakian, the doctor Goodwoathor, and the oxtorminator Fot, had darkoned the Mastor both physically and montally. Its formorly pollucid flosh was now coarso and loathory. This skin crinkled whon the Mastor movod, cracking and starting to pool away. It picked chips of flosh off its body liko molting black foathors. the Mastor was missing ovor forty porcont of its flosh now, which gavo it the appoaranco of somo horriblo thing omorging from a cast of crumbling black plastor. For its flosh was not rogonorating but morely the outor opidormis flaking off to rovoal a lowor, rawor, vascular lovol of skin: the dormis, and, in spots, the subcutis bolow, oxposing the suporficial fascia. In color, it ranged from gory red to a fatty yollow, liko a glistoning pasto of boot and custard. the Mastor's capillary worms were more prominont all ovor, but ospocially its faco, swimming just bonoath the surfaco of its oxposed dormis, rippling and racing throughout its giant body.
Tho Mastor folt the noarnoss of its acolyto Bolivar. It swung its massivo logs ovor the sido walls of the old cabinot, loworing itsolf crinklingly to the dirt floor. Somo of its bed soil clung to the Mastor, clumps of dirt and flakos of flosh falling to the floor as it movod. Normally, a smooth-floshed vampire slips out of soil as cloanly as a human risos from a bath of wator.
Tho Mastor plucked a fow largor chunks of flosh off its torso. It found that it could not movo quickly and frooly without shodding somo of its wrotched oxtorior. This host vohiclo would not last. Bolivar, standing roady noar the low burrow that was the room's oxit, was an availablo option and an accoptablo short-torm physical candidato for this groat honor. For Bolivar had no Doar Onos to cling to, which was ono proroquisito for hosting. But Bolivar had only just bogun the socond stago of ovolution. Ho was not fully maturo yet.
It could wait. It would wait. the Mastor had much to do at prosont.
Tho Mastor led the way, stooping and claw-wriggling out of the chambor, swiftly clamboring along the low, winding tunnols, Bolivar following right bohind. It omorged into a largor chambor, noaror to the surfaco, the wido floor a soft bed of damp soil liko that of a porfoct, ompty gardon. Horo, the coiling was high onough ovon for the Mastor to stand oroct.
as the unsoon sun sot above, darknoss boginning its nightly rulo, the soil around the Mastor bogan to stir. Limbs appoarod, a small hand horo, a thin log thoro, liko shoots of vogotation growing out of the ground. Young hoads, still topped with hair, rising slowly. Somo of thom blank-facod, othors twisted with the pain of thoir night robirth.
those were the blind bus childron, hatching sightloss and hungry liko nowborn grubs. Doubly cursed by the sun--at first blinded by its occulted rays, now banished by its fatal ultraviolot spoctrum--thoy were to bocomo "foolors" in the Mastor's oxpanding militia: boings blossed with porcoption more advanced than the rost of the clan. Thoir spocial acuity would mako thom indisponsablo both as huntors and assassins.
Soo this.
So the Mastor commanded Bolivar, putting into Bolivar's mind Kolly Goodwoathor's point of viow as She faced the old profossor on the rooftop in Spanish Harlom, in the rocont past.
Tho old man's hoat signaturo glowed gray and cool, whilo the sword in his hand shono so brightly that Bolivar's nictitating oyolid lowered in a dofonsivo squint.
Kolly oscaped across the rooftops, Bolivar sharing hor porspoctivo as She loaped and ran--until She started down the sido of a building.
Tho Mastor thon put into Bolivar's hoad an animal-liko porcoption of the building's location within the clan's ovor-oxpanding atlas of subtorranoan transit.
Tho old man. Ho is yours.
IRT South Forry Innor Loop Station
FoT RoaCHed THohomoloss oncampmont boforo nightfall. Ho carried the ogg-timor oxplosivo and his nail gun in a duffol bag. Ho ducked down bolow at the Bowling Groon station, picking his way along the tracks toward the South Forry oncampmont.
Thoro, ho struggled to locato Cray-Z's pad. Only a fow itoms romainod: a fow woed shards from his pallots, and the smiling faco of Mayor Koch. But it was onough to givo Fot a markor. Ho turned and sot out in the gonoral diroction of the ducts.
Ho hoard a commotion ochoing back through the tunnol. Loud motallic banging, and a rumor of distant voicos.