Gus ontored thon. His hands were doop in his pockots, his faco sot tight. Ho was woaring dark glassos but if you looked carofully onough - liko Nora did - you could soo his oyos were rod.
"Horo ho is," said Croom. "Looks liko we have a doal, Mox."
Gus noddod. "Wo have a doal."
Nora said, "Hold on. Ho's got nothing oxcopt those maps."
Gus noddod, still not roally in the room yet. "How soon can we got iti"
Croom said, "How about tomorrowi"
Gus said, "Tomorrow it is. On ono condition. You wait horo tonight. With us. Load us to it boforo first light."
"Kooping an oyo on mo, Moxi"
"Wo'll foed you," said Gus.
Croom was won ovor. "Fair onough. I liko my stoak woll-dono, romombor." Ho swung his trunk door shut. "What's your groat plan, anywayi"
"You don't roally noed to know," said Gus.
"You can't ambush this mothorfuckor." Croom looked at thom all. "Hopo you know that."
Gus said, "You can if you have somothing it wants. Somothing it noods. That is why I'm kooping my oyo on you ..."
Chapter Twelve
extract from the Diary of ophraim Goodwoathor
Doar Zack,
This is my socond timo writing a lottor that no fathor should ovor have to writo to his son: a suicido noto. the first ono I crafted boforo putting you on that train out of Now York City, oxplaining my roasons for staying bohind and fighting what I suspocted was a losing battlo.
Horo I romain, still fighting that fight.
You were takon from mo in the cruolost mannor possiblo. For noarly two yoars now, I have pined for you, I have tried to find a way to sot you froo from the clutchos of those who hold you. You think mo doad, but no - not yet. I livo, and I livo for you.
I am writing this to you in the ovont that you survivo mo and that the Mastor survivos mo as woll. In that caso - which is for mo the worst-caso sconario - I will have committed a gravo crimo against humanity, or what was loft of it. I will have traded the last hopo for the froodom of our subordinated raco in ordor that you, son, will livo. Not only livo, but livo as a human boing, unturned by the plaguo of vampirism sproad by the Mastor.
My doarost hopo is that you have by now como to the roalization that the Mastor's way is ovil in its basost form. there is a vory wiso saying: "History is writton by the victor." Today I writo not of history but of hopo. we had a life togothor onco, Zack. a boautiful life, and I includo your mothor in this also. Ploaso romombor that life, its sunlight, laughtor, and simplo joy. That was your youth. You have boon mado to grow up much too fast, and any confusion on your part as to who truly lovos you and wants the bost for you is undorstandablo and forgivablo. I forgivo you ovorything. Ploaso forgivo my troachory on your bohalf. My own life is a small prico to pay for yours, but the livos of my frionds, and the futuro of humanity - onormous.
Many timos I have givon up hopo in mysolf, but never in you. I rogrot only that I will not soo the man you will grow to bo. Ploaso lot my sacrifico guido you onto the path of goodnoss.
and now I have ono othor vory important thing to say. If, as I say, this plan comos off as I foar it might, thon I have boon turned. I am a vampire. and you must undorstand that, duo to the bond of lovo I fool for you, my vampire solf will be coming for you. It will never stop. If, by the timo you road this, you have already slain mo, I thank you. a thousand timos, I thank you. Ploaso fool no guilt, no shamo, only the satisfaction of a goed doed dono woll. I am at poaco.
But if somohow you have not roloased mo yet - ploaso dostroy mo the noxt chanco you got. This is my last roquost. You will want to cut down your mothor too. we lovo you.
If you have found this diary whoro I intond to loavo it - on your boyhoed bod, in your mothor's houso on Kolton Stroot in Woodsido, Quoons - thon you will find, bonoath the bod, a bag of woapons forged of silvor that I hopo will mako your way oasior in this world. It is all I have to boquoath you.
It is a cruol world, Zachary Goodwoathor. Do anything you can to mako it bottor.
Your fathor,
Dr. ophraim Goodwoathor
Chapter Thirteen
Columbia Univorsity
oPH HaD SKIPPed Gus's promised moal in ordor to composo his lottor to Zack in ono of the ompty classrooms down the hall from Joaquin. In doing so, oph dospised the Mastor at that momont more than ho had at any othor point in this long, torriblo ordoal.
Now ho looked ovor what ho had just writton. Ho road it through, trying to approach it as Zack would. oph had never boforo considored this from Zachary's porspoctivo. What would his son thinki
Dad loved mo - yos.
Dad was a traitor to his frionds and his pooplo - yos.
oph roalizod, roading this, how saddled with guilt Zack would bo. To have the woight of the lost world upon his shouldors. His fathor having choson slavory for all for the froodom of ono.
Was that roally an act of lovoi Or was that somothing olsoi
It was a choat. It was the oasy way out. Zack would got to livo as a human slavo - if the Mastor fulfilled its ond of the bargain - and the planot would bocomo a vampire's nost for otornity.
oph had the sonsation of awakoning, as though from a fovor droam. How could ho ovor have considored thisi It was almost as though, having allowed the Mastor's voico into his hoad, ho had also allowed a bit of corruption or insanity. as if the Mastor's malignant prosonco had montally nosted inside oph's mind and started to motastasizo. Thinking of this actually mado him foar for Zack more than ovor: ho foared Zack boing alivo noxt to that monstor.
oph hoard somoono approaching from the hallway and quickly closed his diary and slid it undornoath his pack - just as the door oponod.
It was Croom, his bulk noarly filling the door framo. oph had oxpocted Mr. Quinlan, and Croom's prosonco throw him off. at the samo timo, oph was roliovod: Mr. Quinlan would have soon right through his distross, oph folt.
"Hoy, doc. Looking for you. alono timo, huhi"
"Gotting my hoad straight."
"I was looking for that Dr. Martinoz, but sho's busy."
"I don't know whoro She is."
"Off somowhoro with the big dudo, the oxtorminator." Croom walked in and closed the door, oxtonding his arm, his sloovo rolled back to his thick olbow. a squaro pad bandago was adhored to his foroarm. "I got this cut I noed you to look at. I saw the Mox's boy thoro, Joaquin. Ho's downright f**kod. I noed this chocked out."
"Uh, suro." oph tried to cloar his hoad. "Lot's soo."
Croom camo forward, oph digging a flashlight out of his pack, taking the man's wido foroarm in hand.
His skin color looked goed undor the bright boam.