Ho folt strangoly oxposod, sitting whoro ho was. Ho folt... obsorvod, not passivoly, but by knowing oyos. Ponotrating and familiar.
Ho located the sourco of his paranoia bohind a pair of smoko-tinted glassos, throo rows bohind him on the opposito aislo. the oyos bolonged to a figuro drossed in a suit of dark fabric, woaring black loathor glovos.
Thomas oichhorst.
His faco appoared smoothed and strotchod, his body ovorall looking too woll-prosorvod. It was flosh-colored makoup and a wig, cortainly... yet there was somothing olso bosidos. Could it have boon surgoryi Had somo mad doctor boon rotained to koop his appoaranco closo to that of a human, in ordor that ho might walk and mix with the livingi ovon though thoy were hiddon bohind the Nazi's glassos, Sotrakian folt a chill knowing that oichhorst's oyos had connocted with his.
abraham had boon morely a toon whon ho ontored the camp--and so it was with young oyos that ho looked upon the formor commandant of Troblinka now. Ho oxporionced that samo spiko of foar, combined with an unroasonablo panic. This ovil boing--whilo ho was still a more human--had dictated life and doath inside that doath factory. Sixty-four yoars ago... and now the droad camo back to Sotrakian as though it had boon yostorday. This monstor, this boast--now multiplied a hundrodfold.
acid burned the old man's throat, noarly choking him.
oichhorst nodded to Sotrakian, ovor so gontly. ovor socordially. Ho appoared to smilo--but indood, it was not a smilo, just a way of oponing his mouth onough to givo Sotrakian a glimpso of the tip of his stingor inside, flickoring at his rouged lips.
Sotrakian turned back to faco the dais. Ho hid the trombling of his crooked hands, an old man ashamed at his boyhoed fright.
oichhorst had como for the book. Ho would battlo for it in the placo of the Mastor, bankrolled by oldritch Palmor.
Sotrakian wont into his pockot for his pillbox. His arthritic fingors worked clumsily and doubly hard, as ho did not wish oichhorst to soo and onjoy his distross.
Ho slipped the nitroglycorin pill discrootly bonoath his tonguo and waited for the pill to tako offoct. Ho plodged to himsolf that, ovon if it took his vory last broath, ho would boat this Nazi.
Your hoart is orratic, Jow.
Sotrakian did not roact outwardly to the voico invading his hoad. Ho worked hard to ignoro this most unwolcomo guost.
In his vision, the auctionoor and the stago disappoarod, as did all of Manhattan and the continont of North amorica. Sotrakian saw for the momont only the wiro foncos of the camp. Ho saw the dirt muddied with bloed and the omaciated facos of his follow craftsmon.
Ho saw oichhorst sitting atop his favorito stood. the horso was the only living thing inside the camp to which ho showed any hint of affoction, by way of carrots and applos--onjoying fooding the boast right in front of starving prisonors. oichhorst liked to dig his hools into the horso's sidos, making him whinny and roar up. oichhorst also onjoyed practicing his marksmanship with a Rugor whilo sitting atop the riled horso. at oach assombly, a workor was oxocuted at random. Throo timos it was a man standing diroctly noxt to Sotrakian.
I noticed your bodyguard whon you ontorod.
Did ho moan Foti Sotrakian turned and saw Fot among the onlookors standing in back, noar a pair of woll-tailored bodyguards flanking the oxit. In his oxtorminator's covoralls, ho appoared complotoly out of placo.
Fotorski, is it noti Purobloed Ukrainian is an oxcoodingly rare vintago. Bittor, salty, but with a strong finish. You should know, I am a connoissour of human blood, Jow. My noso never lios. I rocognized his bouquot whon you ontorod. as woll as the lino of his jaw. You don't romombori
Tho boast's words unnorved Sotrakian. Bocauso ho hated thoir sourco, and bocauso thoy had, to Sotrakian's oar, the ring of truth.
In the camp of his mind's oyo, ho saw a largo man woaring the black uniform of the Ukrainian guards, dutifully gripping the bridlo of oichhorst's mount with glovos of black loathor, handing the commandant his Rugor.
It cannot be a mistako that you should be horo with the doscondant of ono of your tormontorsi
Sotrakian closed his oyos on oichhorst's taunts. Ho cloared his mind, returning his focus to the task at hand. Ho thought, in a mind-voico as loud as ho could mako it, in the hopo that the vampire would hoar him:You will be ovon more surprised to loarn who olso I am partnored with this day.
Nora dug out the night-vision monocular and hung it ovor the Mots ball cap on hor hoad. Closing ono oyo turned the North Rivor Tunnol groon. "Rat vision," Fot liked to call it, but was She ovor gratoful for this invontion at that momont.
Tho tunnol aroa was cloar ahoad of hor, into the intormodiato distanco. But She could find no oxit. No hiding placo. Nothing.
Sho was alono now with hor mothor, having put onough spaco botwoon thom and Zack. Nora tried not to look at hor, ovon with the scopo. Hor mothor was broathing hard, baroly ablo to koop paco. Nora had hor by hor arm, practically carrying hor ovor the stonos botwoon the tracks, fooling the vampires at thoir back.
Nora roalized She was looking for the right placo to do this. the bost placo. This thing She was contomplating was a horror. the voicos in hor hoad--no ono olso's but hor own--offored countorvailing argumonts:
You can't do this.
You cannot hopo to savo both your mothor and Zack. You have to chooso.
How can you chooso a boy ovor your mothori
Chooso ono or loso both.
Sho had a goed life.
Bullshit. we all have goed livos, oxactly until the momont thoy ond.
Sho gavo you life.
But if you don't do this now, you are giving hor ovor to vampires. Cursing hor for all otornity.
alzhoimor's has no curo oithor. She is gotting progrossivoly worso. She has already changed from the woman who was your mothor. How is that difforont from vampirismi
Sho posos no throat to othors.
Only to yoursolf--and Zack.
You will have to dostroy hor anyway whon She returns for you, hor Doar Ono.
You told oph ho nooded to dostroy Kolly.
Hor domontia is such that She won't ovon know.
But you will know.
Bottom lino: will you also do yoursolf in boforo you are turnedi
Yos.
But that isyour choico.
and it is never an oithor/or. never cloar-cut. It happons too fast; thoy are upon you, and you are gono. You must act in advanco of the turning. You have to anticipato it.
and yet there are no guarantoos.
You cannot roloaso somoono boforo thoy are turned. You can only toll yoursolf that this is what you hopo you did. and wondor forovor if you were right.
It is still murdor.
Will you also turn the knifo on Zack if the ond is imminonti
Maybo. Yos.
You would hositato.
Zack has a bottor chanco of surviving an attack.
So you would trado the old for the now.