In the End.

*"hree weeks later, David, Nia, and Jahlil left Atlanta, where i they had been staying in David's home, and returned to Dark Corner. They went to retrieve their belongings. And to pay their respects to the lost.

"The Lost" was how the news media had taken to describing the town residents who had mysteriously vanished over Labor Day weekend. Previously, Mason's Corner had been noteworthy only as the hometown of its famous native son, Richard Hunter. But the town gained a sudden, unwelcome notoriety when news of the "displaced" residents leaked out. Those who continued to live in Mason's Corner refused to discuss with the media what had happened, stating only that a terrible storm had come and wreaked havoc on their quiet hometown. They claimed that they did not know where "The Lost" had gone, and shut their doors when pressed to answer further questions.

David had followed the media coverage from Atlanta. After three weeks, when the media's interest in the taciturn residents waned and the news crews moved on to fresher stories elsewhere, he told Nia and Jahlil that it was time for them to go back.

Neither of them was surprised. They understood that they had unresolved business to handle there.

They drove back on an overcast Sat.u.r.day. Nia drove, as David's arm was still healing. Throughout most of the drive, they were in good spirits, enjoying the familylike camaraderie they had developed. When they drew within ten miles of Mason's Corner, however, they grew quiet. When they entered the city limits, the only sound to be heard within the SUV was the music playing on the stereo.

This place looks a lot like it did when I first came here, David thought. Main Street had been cleaned up, the broken windows replaced. Cars and trucks drove back and forth along the road. People walked in and out of shops.

But there were differences, and they went beyond the orange-red autumn leaves. Everyone appeared to be in a hurry, as if afraid to meander outdoors for too long. Many of the storefronts had bars across the windows. And the residents who took note of them driving through town regarded them not with curiosity, but with quick, anxious glances.

"I could never live here again," Nia said in a brittle voice.

"Yeah," Jahlil mumbled. "Me neither."

Perched on the hill on the east side of the city, Jubilee gazed down on them, an ineradicable scar.

David's chest tightened. He looked away from the house.

They reached the park. The three of them, and King, climbed out.

With his left arm encased in a heavy cast, David grasped Nia's fingers with his right hand as they strolled along the gra.s.s. They had first met here; he would never forget that day. As he looked into her eyes, he knew she was thinking the same thoughts.

They stopped in a quiet corner of the park. Jahlil set down the potted magnolia sapling that he had been carrying.

They planted the magnolia there, in the rich soil. Finished, they formed a circle around the young tree. Jahlil had written a poem, ent.i.tled "Always," to dedicate the tree to those, friends and strangers alike, who had been lost when darkness had fallen over the town. He recited the bittersweet poem from memory; he had spent many hours preparing for this day.

By the time Jahlil finished speaking, tears trickled down his face. He lowered his head. David took him into his arms, and held him.

The next morning, after spending the night at a hotel in Southaven, they rented a U-Haul trailer, hooked it to the rear of the SUV, and went to each of their families' homes, to pick up the items they wanted to bring back to Atlanta. They visited Jahlil's place first, then Nia's. They arrived last at the Hunter family home.

David was crossing the sidewalk, lugging a suitcase packed with clothes to the trailer, when a champagne Lincoln limousine slid down the street and parked in front of the house.

Frowning, he placed the luggage on the ground.

A chauffeur, attired in a formal black suit and a cap, stepped outside the limousine. He nodded at David, strode to the rear pa.s.senger door, and pulled it open in a reverential manner, as though he were serving a member of royalty.

Two figures slipped out of the limo. The first was a tall, lean black man who wore shades, an elegant hat, and a fine dark suit. For a reason that David could not define, the man was familiar-looking.

But the second person was the stunner: an exquisitely beautiful black woman clothed in a midnight-blue dress and a matching, wide-brimmed hat. She wore a pair of tinted gla.s.ses, too.

After all that he had experienced, David had thought that it would be impossible for him to ever be shocked again, but he felt as though he had closed his hand over a live wire.

The woman's movements were so smooth that she appeared to glide across the distance between them.

"It's you," he said, breathlessly.

The ancient vampire, Lisha, smiled.

"I received word that you had returned," she said. "I had intended to visit the town, to see it with my own eyes, and what better time to come than when you would be present?"

His mouth was dry. "I ... I don't know what to say. All I can say is, thank you for helping us. I don't know why you did it, but I'm glad that you did."

"Diallo was a cancer upon the earth," she said. "He would have consumed this world had I not intervened. In the process, his ill-advised actions would have drawn attention to our kind and brought destruction and misery upon us all. I could never allow such a disaster."

David nodded. "So you used me to save yourself. What about your son, Kyle?"

"Kyle had too much of his father in him. He would have become a problem in his own right, in time."

What kind of mother could so callously dismiss her own son? David comprehended how inhuman this creature really was. Although she looked like a woman, and had a woman's voice, and a sweet, feminine scent, too, there was nothing genuinely human about her. She was as alien as a species that might be found at the edge of the galaxy.

She appeared to sense his opinion of her, and looked amused. "You would have to live a millenia to understand, my child. Humans place their hope in heavenly salvation. But my only religion is self-preservation."

Alien. He would never understand her, and wasn't entirely sure he wanted to, either.

"Okay, can I ask you one thing?" David said. "The ghost that Diallo saw before he died, who was it?"

"That was not my doing, child," Lisha said. "Every soul has its hopes. Even the soul of a monster such as Diallo."

"I don't get it."

"It is not relevant for you to understand. You have fulfilled your family's legacy, David Hunter. Be proud of that. Not all of those in your bloodline were quite as capable. You are very special."

David blushed. "Well, thank you"

Lisha reached forward and touched his cheek with her long, slender fingers. Her touch was warm.

"One day," she whispered, "perhaps we shall meet again. Until then, someone else would like to converse with you."

She smiled and, in a swirl of silk, whirled around and returned inside the limousine.

The curiously familiar man who had been waiting beside the vehicle approached David.

David's heart boomed. The man's walk, it was too familiar. His hands, too familiar. Then, when his lips broadened into a smile, recognition hit David like a club against his temple.

It was his father.

Richard Hunter removed his shades.

David stuttered, "What ... what ... what ..

"What am I doing with Lisha?" Richard said, his voice as suave as ever. "I'm her companion, of course"

"That can't be," David said. Certainly, his eyes were fooling him, or he was the victim of a cruel prank. "You died, at sea "A disappearing act, son," his father said. "Madam Lisha has resources and connections that would boggle the mind."

'Bulls.h.i.t. You're lying to me, like you always do"

Richard only smiled, characteristically impervious to insults. His eyes were familiar, yet strange. The irises were darker and deeper, it seemed, as if something cold and alien had taken residence in his body.

"I'm dismayed that you did not suspect it all along, David," his father said. "You found one of her letters to me, correct? It was underneath the nightstand drawer in the master bedroom"

"But that was written by someone named Elizabeth," David said. His head throbbed. This was really too much for him. This was it. He was going to lose it.

Richard smiled. "Come now, son. You're cleverer than that. Lisha ... Elizabeth. She employed a childishly transparent nom de plume."

"What about the photo you took at the Mason place?"

"Merely a shot for an interview in a literary magazine, nothing of great importance; they wanted me to pose near a local landmark." Richard chuckled. "You made this much more complicated than you needed to, David. The truth was always simple."

"But why did you do it?" David said.

"Do you need to ask?" Richard said. "When I left behind my mortal life, I provided all of the financial benefits that you and your mother could ever wish for. And I get to enjoy everlasting life as the companion of a fabulously beautiful and wise creature. Do you think that was a difficult decision for me to make? You would have done the same thing if you were given the opportunity."

David shook his head. He felt ill. "So it was all about what you wanted for yourself, as always. Just so you know, I'm doing fine without your fortune. You can take it back. I don't want it."

"Dispose of it as you wish," Richard said. "It's no longer a concern of mine. I did not come here to revive old domestic squabbles. I only want to tell you that I'm proud of what you did." Richard paused. "You've grown into an admirable man, David. And ... well, more of a man than I ever was"

David only stared at him.

His father awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. He replaced his shades and strolled to the limousine.

The driver closed the pa.s.senger door, then got behind the wheel. The limousine disappeared down the street.

David felt as though he had been punished by a boxer. His head hurt; his stomach ached. He wanted nothing more than to lie down, sleep for two days, and forget that this incident had ever happened.

Numb, he shuffled back to the house.

Nia stepped outside and met him on the porch.

"Who were those people?" she said. "I feel strange saying this, but that man ... he kinda looked like your father."

"No," David said. He pulled Nia into his arms, desperately needing to feel someone who was indisputably real and lasting in his life. He held her so close that he felt the throbbing of her heart against his chest. "I thought it was my father. But my father is dead"

He kissed her, and they walked inside the house together.

He awoke in darkness.

His eyes were sore, his vision blurry, yet they adjusted sufficiently to the gloom for him to recognize his surroundings.

He was in the cave.

You will live, his father had promised him, implanting the thought in his soul, like a command. His consciousness hovered above his fire-ravaged corpse, as though he were the guardian spirit of his own body; he had watched his father carry him in his arms through the night. His father had brought him to the cave. His father had opened a cut in his own wrist and let the magical blood trickle into his ruined mouth.

You will live, his father promised. But to live, you must Sleep.

In the depths of the cave, his father dug a grave for him. Tenderly, he placed the body in the earthen pit, covering him with a blanket of raw earth.

Sleep, my son. And live.

So he had Slept. He did not know how long he had been Asleep. Not long enough, not yet. Although he had poked his head through the surface of the dirt, and his vision functioned, much of his physical body continued to slowly work through the regeneration process. No one had ever resurrected a vampire from death. His father had performed a miracle.

I will live, my father. I promise you.

His gaze traveled across the limestone walls. Above him, he discovered the inscription that his father had engraved in the rock, well over a century ago.

I will live ... and ... I shall rise again to slay my enemies.

end.