Pilgrimage of the Sacred and the Profane Page 3

  It was probably the manager’s good fortune that he didn’t have to knock on the door in the end. The door creaked open before his trembling hand, and the room’s occupant appeared. As that handsome countenance silently watched them, the townspeople forgot their murderous rage and were left dazed. But it was the manager who noticed D was prepared to set off on a trip. Bringing his hand to his heart in relief, he asked, “Will you be leaving, sir?”

  “I can’t rest here any longer.” D’s eyes gazed quietly at the men filling the hallway. The lust for violence that’d churned there had already disappeared, and they were gripped now by a sort of lethargy—just from a single glance from the Hunter. As D walked ahead, the mass of people broke to either side, as if pushed back by some unseen agent. The only thing showing in the eyes of the men pressed against the wall was fear. D went down the stairs. The lobby was a crucible of furious humanity. Like the sea in days of old, they parted right down the middle, opening a straight path between the Vampire Hunter and the door.

  “Your bill has been paid,” the manager called from behind him.

  D went outside. In the street, there was a furry of wind and people—and eyes steeped in hatred and fear. Just as he took hold of the reins to his cyborg horse in the shack next to the hotel, a cheerful voice called out to him.

  “Scaring the hell out of a group that size is quite a feat,” Clay Bullow said, donning a carefree smile, but D didn’t even look at him as he got up in the saddle. “Hold up. We’re leaving, too. Why don’t you come with us?” Clay suggested, seeming just a bit flustered. The hot-headedness of the previous night had burned away like a fog. He was also on horseback, with the reins in his hands. “My brother’s waiting at the edge of town. You know, I’m not talking about us all being friends or nothing. We wanna settle up with you.”

  As D casually rode off, Clay gave a kick to his mount’s flanks and headed after him. Flicking the reins, he pulled up on D’s left side.

  “Now, this is a surprise! Guess I should’ve expected no less,” he said, eyes going wide. His exclamation was entirely sincere. “You draw your sword over your right shoulder. If you leave me on your left, you can’t try to cut me without turning your horse and everything this way. Have you got so much confidence that you don’t care about something like that, or are you just plain stupid? Just so you know, this is my good side.”

  By that, Clay must’ve meant the hand he’d use to fight. His harp was on his right hip. His hand glided toward the strings.

  “Care to try me?” the Hunter asked.

  Clay’s hand froze in midair. All it had taken was that one question from D. The Hunter was rocking back and forth on his horse.

  The people saw Clay’s mount halt, and the other rider rode away at a leisurely pace.

  D turned the corner. The great gates that separated the town from the desert were hazy through the clouds of sand. They lay straight ahead of him. D advanced without saying a word.

  Massive forms challenged the sky to either side of the gate—enormous trees that were the deepest shade of blue. Looking like thousands of giant serpents twisted together, the trunk of each had countless cracks running through it. There were no smaller branches or twigs. Naturally, there were no leaves, either. The two colossal trees had died ages ago. Beside the huge tree on the right, a figure in a silk hat sat on a horse, and next to the tree on the left rested a wagon with a cylindrical cover. Covered on three sides by a canopy of reinforced plastic, the driver’s seat was occupied by Granny Viper and Tae. All of them were waiting for D—but the Hunter rode by without glancing at either party.

  “My younger brother was supposed to go collect you,” Bingo said. Perhaps he was still “sleeping,” as his face was turned to the ground under his black bowler hat. As he spoke in his sleep, his voice seemed unbounded. “But I guess the Hunter D was a little too much baggage for him to handle after all,” the elder Bullow continued. “Someday, we’d like some of your time to settle things nice and leisurely. We’re headed down the same road you are. What do you say to going with us?”

  Granny Viper cackled like a bird of prey, blowing aside the dusty clouds. “You think our young friend here travels with anyone else? Looks like the Fighting Bullow Brothers have gone soft in the head! He’s always on his own. He was born alone, lives alone, and he’ll die alone. One look at him should be enough to tell you as much.”

  The crone turned an enraptured gaze on the pale profile riding past her. “But this time,” she said to the Hunter, “I need you to make an exception. Now, I don’t know what you’re up to, but if you’re going across the desert, then Barnabas is the only place you could be headed . . . which happens to be where we’re headed, too. Even if you don’t want to come with us, we still have the right to follow along after you.” Glaring in Bingo’s direction, she added, “Sheesh. I don’t know what you boys are trying to prove, but we could do without you. I’m giving you fair warning,” she said to Bingo in a tone that could cow even a giant of a man. “If you make a move against D, I’ll take it as a move against us. Try anything funny, and you’ll find yourselves with more than one foe on your hands.”

  And then the crone pulled back on her reins. An electrical current passed through the metallic rings looped around the necks of the four cyborg horses in her team, triggering the release of adrenaline. A hot and heavy wind smacked the horses in the nose as they hit the street. Beyond the great gates that opened to either side, D’s shape was dwindling in the distance. The wagon was close behind him, and Bingo’s horse was about a minute behind the wagon. Another five minutes later, Clay passed through the gate as well. As soon as he’d gone, a sad sound began to ring out all over town. If the wind was a song that bid them farewell, then the cries of the bugs were a funeral dirge. And before long, even that died out.

  The crone’s covered wagon soon pulled up on D’s right-hand side. Golden terrain stretched on forever, and the sky was a leaden hue. The thick canopy of clouds that shrouded the desert was almost never pierced by the rays of the sun; in the last fifty years or so, the sun had only been seen once. Somewhere out on the line that divided heaven from earth, a few ribbon-like beams of light had once burst through the sea of clouds in a sight that was said to be beautiful beyond compare. Some even said there was a town out where it’d shone. But after that, the light was never seen again.

  “Oh my, looks like those two really are coming along,” Granny said after adjusting her canopy and peering into the omni-directional safety mirror. Made of more than a dozen lenses bent into special angles and wired in place, the mirror not only provided clear views of all four sides of the wagon, but of the sky above it and earth below as well. The figures that appeared in the lens that covered the back, of course, were the Bullow Brothers. “Why do you reckon they’re following you?” the crone asked as she wiped the sweat from her brow. Though sunlight didn’t penetrate the clouds, the heat had no trouble getting through. In fact, the inescapable swelter was a special characteristic of this desert. “They say a fighter’s blood starts pumping faster when he finds someone tougher than him. Well,” she laughed, “it sure as hell ain’t anything as neat as all that. You know why you were thrown out of that hotel?”

  D didn’t answer her. Most likely, it was all the same to him. He’d probably have just left his lodging at checkout time. No matter what the townspeople tried, it wouldn’t have mattered, because in truth, they wouldn’t have been able to do anything to him.

  The old woman looked to the heavens in disgust. “Unbelievable! The mob back in town was ready to kill you. You must’ve known as much. And yet you mean to tell me you don’t even wanna know why?”

  Waiting a while for an answer, the old woman finally shrugged her shoulders.

  “Watch out for those two, you hear me? The reason everyone in town was after you is because the daughter of some farmer out on the edge of town had her blood drained last night. They’ve probably got her in isolation by now, but when they found her in that state this morning
, they just jumped to the conclusion you were to blame. After all, you are the world-famous Vampire Hunter D. And you’re a 100 percent genuine dhampir.”

  As Granny said this, she took her left hand off the reins, got the canteen that sat by her feet, and brought it to her mouth. The temperature continued to climb rapidly—a sure sign that the world humans inhabited was now far away.

  “Now, I can tell with just one look at you that you’re not that kind of weak-willed, half-baked Noble, but the world don’t work that way. Everyone got all steamed-up and figured it was entirely your fault, which is why they formed that big ol’ mob. Hell, they don’t even know for sure if she was even bitten or not. Truth is . . . any quack in town could’ve easily made a wound that’d look like that. Give the girl a shot of anesthetic, and she’d have the same symptoms as if one of the Nobility fed on her, and she wouldn’t be able to eat for four or five days, either. It was them,” the crone said, tossing her jaw in the direction of the Bullow brothers. “They did it. To get you thrown out.”

  Seeing a slight movement of D’s lips, the old woman had to smother a smile of delight.

  “Why would they want me thrown out of town?” the Hunter asked, though from his tone it was completely uncertain whether or not he was actually interested. It was like the voice of the wind, or a stone. Given the nature of the young man, the wind seemed more likely.

  “I wouldn’t have the slightest notion about that,” the crone said, smirking all the while. “You should ask them. After all, they’re following along after you. But it’s my hope that you’ll hold off on any fighting till our journey’s safely over. I don’t wanna lose my precious escort, you see.”

  Not seeming upset that he’d been appointed her guardian at some point, D said, “Soon.”

  The word startled the old woman. “What, you mean something’s coming? Been across this desert before, have you?”

  “I read the notes written by someone who crossed it a long time ago,” D replied, his eyes staring straight ahead.

  There was no breeze, just endless crests of gray and gold. The temperature had passed a hundred and five. The crone was drenched with sweat.

  “If the contents are to be believed, the man who kept that note-book made it halfway across,” D continued.

  “And that’s where he met his death, eh? What killed him?”

  “When I found him, his arm was poking out from some rocks, with his notebook still clutched in his hand even though he was just a skeleton.”

  The old woman shrugged. “At any rate, it probably won’t do us much good, right? I mean, you must’ve gone as far as he did.”

  “When I found him, he was out in the middle of the Mishgault stone stacks.”

  Granny’s eyes bulged. “That’s more than three thousand miles from here. You don’t say . . . So, that’s how it goes, eh? The seas of sand play interesting games, don’t they? What should we do, then?”

  “Think for yourself.”

  “Now I’ll—” the old woman said, about to fly into a rage, but a semitransparent globe drifted before her. The front canopy was in the woman’s way, so she touched its curved plastic surface and it quickly retracted to the rear.

  The thing was about a foot-and-a-half in diameter. It was perfectly round, too. Within it, a multicolored mass that seemed to be a liquid was gently rippling.

  “A critter of some sort,” Granny remarked. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Tae, get inside.”

  Once she’d sent the girl into the depths of the covered wagon, the crone took the nearby blunderbuss and laid it across her lap. With a muzzle that flared like the end of a trumpet, the weapon would launch a two-ounce ball of lead with just a light squeeze of its trigger. Pulling out the round it already contained, the old woman took a scattershot shell from the tin ammo box that sat by the weapon and loaded that instead. Her selection was based merely on a gut feeling, but it was a good choice. From somewhere up ahead of them, more globes than they could count began to surround the wagon and the rider.

  “Looks like the Bullow Brothers are gonna wet themselves,” the old woman laughed as she eyed one of the lenses in her mirror. “What the hell are those critters, anyway?”

  “I don’t know,” D said simply.

  “What do you mean?! Didn’t you just say they’d be attacking us soon?”

  “There was nothing about them in the notebook.”

  The crone’s eyes went wide. “Then this is something new, is it?”

  The question was barely off the old woman’s tongue when their surroundings were filled with light. Not only had the globes taken on strange colors, but they’d begun pulsing with life.

  “God, these things are disgusting. I’m gonna make a break for it!” Granny shouted, forgetting all about the man she’d asked to guard them as she worked the reins for all she was worth. The cyborg horses in her team kicked up the ground in unison. The intense charge pushed the globes out of the way, leaving them spinning wildly in the vehicle’s wake. Racing on for a good four hundred feet, the crone then stopped her wagon. As her eyes came to rest on D by their side, she was all smiles.

  “Stuck right with us, didn’t you?” Granny said to him. “Forget what you said—I just knew you’d be worried about the two of us. Good thing for us. That’s just what I like to see in a strong man.”

  The old woman was about to lavish even more praise on the Hunter when suddenly she stopped. D had taken one hand and slowly pointed to their rear. “Take a shot at them,” he said in a low voice. Perhaps he’d only kept up with her to see what effect it would have.

  Though her face made no secret of her apprehension, Granny must’ve shared his interest, because she raised her blunderbuss. “Oh my,” she said. “Those two boys are coming, too. Hold on a minute.”

  “Now,” the Hunter told her.

  “What?” said the old woman, her eyes widening. She then found out why D had instructed her to shoot—the globes they’d knocked out of the way were now rising without a sound to disappear in the high heavens. They were moving so quickly that hitting them would be no easy task, even with scattershot. The globes that surrounded the galloping Bullow Brothers also broke off immediately and headed for the sky.

  “You are one scary character,” Granny muttered, not exaggerating her opinion of him in the slightest. And as she spoke, she brought the blunderbuss to her shoulder and leaned out from the driver’s seat. She didn’t have time to take careful aim. A blast of flames and a ridiculously loud roar issued from the preposterously large muzzle of the weapon, rocking the world. Globes shattered above the two brothers, sending out spray. There wasn’t enough time to get off a second shot.

  D and the old woman waited silently for the pair of riders approaching in a cloud of dust.

  Clay was the first to speak, shouting, “What the hell were those things? We’re not even three miles out of town yet!”

  Head still drooping, Bingo swayed back and forth on his horse. He was fast asleep, but the fact that he’d raced this far without being thrown made it clear it was no ordinary slumber. Bingo Bullow, after all, was a man who conversed in his sleep.

  As Clay gazed up at the unsettling leaden sky, Granny Viper caught his eye. The old woman was bent over in the midst of concealing her blunderbuss.

  “Hey! You lousy hag!” Clay shouted at her. As he kept watch over D out of the corner of his eye, he added, “That was a damn fool thing to do. Just look what you did to my hat!” Pulling his cap off, he put one of his fingers into it. His fingertip poked out of a hole near the top—a piece of shot had gone right through it. If he’d been wearing the cap all the way down on his head, it probably would’ve hit him right in the forehead.

  And what did Granny do when met by a look of hatred that would’ve left a child in tears? She grinned from ear to ear. The smile she wore seemed so amiable, not even the sweetest, kindest woman in the world could’ve hoped to match it.

  “What a piece of luck, eh?” the crone said with sincerity. She t
hen told the astonished Clay, “I wasn’t the one who decided to take the shot, though. Our handsome friend here made the call. And I was sure he was likely to cut me down if I didn’t do like he said.”

  That was true enough.

  “Is that right?” Clay asked D. In stark contrast to the tone he’d used up until now, his words were soft. He seemed ready to have it out with the Hunter.

  And D’s reply . . . was no reply at all. “Looks like you didn’t get any of their contents on you,” the Hunter said, filling his field of view with the two brothers.

  Clay gave a knowing nod. “So, that’s how it goes, is it? That’s your game, then? Well, that’s too damn bad. If it was that easy to get the stuff on us, we’d be ashamed to call ourselves the Bullow Brothers.”

  “The next time they show up, you might not be able to avoid it. Besides, I doubt it would’ve been life threatening, even if you got some on you.”

  “And how the hell do you know that?” Clay cried out.

  “A hunch,” D replied.

  “Don’t give me any of that shit!”

  “Give it a rest,” Bingo muttered in a tone as flat and gray as the sky over them. “The Hunter D had a hunch about it. We would’ve been fine even if we got wet!”

  “Spare me. I don’t need to hear it from you too, bro.”

  In a soothing voice, Granny spoke to the frenzied Clay. “Settle down, there. No harm came to you, so everything’s okay, isn’t it? We’ll have no fighting amongst ourselves in this party.”

  Silence descended. It wasn’t a quiet interval for introspection, but rather one brought on by sheer astonishment.

  “Who the hell ever said we’re in your party?!” Clay shouted, more blood rising to his face.

  “Why, you did, the second you left town. We’ve got the same destination, and we’ve been traveling less than five hundred yards apart. What’s more, it seems our Mr. D has a head full of info on half the nasty critters waiting for us out in the desert.”