Blood Vivicanti (9781941240106) by Becket Page A
Authors: Becket
Tags: vampire, vampire series, vampire action, vampire action adventure, vampire books, vampire love, vampire book for young adults, Anne Rice, vampire dating, blood drinker, vampire legends, vampire army, vampire aliens, vampire night, vampire angel, vampire actionadventure
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Sleeper Devils
into motionless piles of bones and bile.
Wyn leaned over one
computer console and quickly hacked into the system and
reprogrammed the music to play Mozart’s Requiem – “in honor of Aemilia,” he
said softly to himself.
Wyn quit the security
office.
Fifteen Sleeper Devils were
standing outside the door waiting for him.
He turned them into pulp in
3.14 seconds.
“ Easy as pi,” he said to
himself.
Meanwhile a chorus was
screaming through the loud speakers, “Dies irae, dies illa solvet
saeclum in favilla.”
It translates as: Day of wrath, day of anger will dissolve the
world in ashes .
Ms. Crystobal flung
seventeen Sleeper Devils through a portal toward the Draco Dwarf
Galaxy.
She tossed twelve more
through a portal toward the bottom of the Mariana’s
Trench.
She hurtled twenty-two more
through the nearest wall.
Just who exactly is Ms.
Crystobal?
I must admit that she is
still a mystery to me, even though she and I have become much
closer than I’ve ever been with anyone, except for perhaps Theo,
and not to mention the Red Man.
A while back, when I was in
Idylville’s forest, spying on Joe and his family, Lowen and Ms.
Crystobal appeared. Behind them were doors. Above his had been the
words: Happy Now .
Above hers had been the words: Knock to
Find .
Later, I asked Ms.
Crystobal what the doors meant.
She told me they were
portals.
“ Portals to where?” I
asked.
She told me that Lowen does
not have the power to open a portal to anywhere, “except death,”
she said.
“ But the
portal I opened for you,” she added, “led to some thing after this
life.”
“ What’s that?”
“ Peace,” she said, “I
believe.”
Now in the Black Building,
the lobby was mostly empty.
Wyn and Ms. Crystobal had
completely decimated Lowen’s Sleeper Devils.
The only things still
moving were body parts – a few heads, some arms, some twitching,
some scratching.
The souls of those poor
Sleeper Devils released.
“ Be at peace,” Ms. Crystobal
whispered to them.
She opened a portal into
space and she blew their remains through it as if they were brown
winter leaves.
She and Wyn went to the
elevator. He pressed the button. They waited.
“ How was the game?” she
asked.
“ I don’t watch sports,” he
said.
“ Please.”
“ Space Invaders?”
“ Of course.”
“ New high score.”
Ms. Crystobal cleared her
throat.
Then she said: “Bet I can
beat it.”
The elevator doors
opened.
Ms. Crystobal rubbed her
hands together for a moment. She opened them.
Now over her palms was a
glowing speck of light, as small as a pinprick of
starlight.
She blew it from her hands.
Gently it floated inside.
Wyn pressed the 120th
floor. The elevator doors closed.
The two went to the stairs,
as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
“ I hit everything I see,
Tweedledee,” said Wyn whimsically to himself.
A minute later:
An explosion shook
violently the whole building with the force of an
earthquake.
Wyn smiled.
He and Ms. Crystobal looked
down the stairwell. They were on the ground level, but the
stairwell wound just as far down as it did up.
Ms. Crystobal leaped up the
stairs as silently as a cat.
Wyn leaped down the stairs,
no less stealthily.
They didn’t say goodbye to
one another. That would have been crossing into the undiscovered
country of intimacy – from whose bourn no
traveler returns .
It took about fifteen
minutes before Wyn finally came close to the lowest level. He
paused to study the bottom. It was a very far drop.
A troop of Sleeper Devils
was waiting for him. They were walking around in a melancholy
circle. Two were in the middle, slouching.
Lowen was blaring his
message of misery and hate inside their heads. But it would be a
mistake to think of him in Orwellian terms. He was not the Thought
Police. He
into motionless piles of bones and bile.
Wyn leaned over one
computer console and quickly hacked into the system and
reprogrammed the music to play Mozart’s Requiem – “in honor of Aemilia,” he
said softly to himself.
Wyn quit the security
office.
Fifteen Sleeper Devils were
standing outside the door waiting for him.
He turned them into pulp in
3.14 seconds.
“ Easy as pi,” he said to
himself.
Meanwhile a chorus was
screaming through the loud speakers, “Dies irae, dies illa solvet
saeclum in favilla.”
It translates as: Day of wrath, day of anger will dissolve the
world in ashes .
Ms. Crystobal flung
seventeen Sleeper Devils through a portal toward the Draco Dwarf
Galaxy.
She tossed twelve more
through a portal toward the bottom of the Mariana’s
Trench.
She hurtled twenty-two more
through the nearest wall.
Just who exactly is Ms.
Crystobal?
I must admit that she is
still a mystery to me, even though she and I have become much
closer than I’ve ever been with anyone, except for perhaps Theo,
and not to mention the Red Man.
A while back, when I was in
Idylville’s forest, spying on Joe and his family, Lowen and Ms.
Crystobal appeared. Behind them were doors. Above his had been the
words: Happy Now .
Above hers had been the words: Knock to
Find .
Later, I asked Ms.
Crystobal what the doors meant.
She told me they were
portals.
“ Portals to where?” I
asked.
She told me that Lowen does
not have the power to open a portal to anywhere, “except death,”
she said.
“ But the
portal I opened for you,” she added, “led to some thing after this
life.”
“ What’s that?”
“ Peace,” she said, “I
believe.”
Now in the Black Building,
the lobby was mostly empty.
Wyn and Ms. Crystobal had
completely decimated Lowen’s Sleeper Devils.
The only things still
moving were body parts – a few heads, some arms, some twitching,
some scratching.
The souls of those poor
Sleeper Devils released.
“ Be at peace,” Ms. Crystobal
whispered to them.
She opened a portal into
space and she blew their remains through it as if they were brown
winter leaves.
She and Wyn went to the
elevator. He pressed the button. They waited.
“ How was the game?” she
asked.
“ I don’t watch sports,” he
said.
“ Please.”
“ Space Invaders?”
“ Of course.”
“ New high score.”
Ms. Crystobal cleared her
throat.
Then she said: “Bet I can
beat it.”
The elevator doors
opened.
Ms. Crystobal rubbed her
hands together for a moment. She opened them.
Now over her palms was a
glowing speck of light, as small as a pinprick of
starlight.
She blew it from her hands.
Gently it floated inside.
Wyn pressed the 120th
floor. The elevator doors closed.
The two went to the stairs,
as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
“ I hit everything I see,
Tweedledee,” said Wyn whimsically to himself.
A minute later:
An explosion shook
violently the whole building with the force of an
earthquake.
Wyn smiled.
He and Ms. Crystobal looked
down the stairwell. They were on the ground level, but the
stairwell wound just as far down as it did up.
Ms. Crystobal leaped up the
stairs as silently as a cat.
Wyn leaped down the stairs,
no less stealthily.
They didn’t say goodbye to
one another. That would have been crossing into the undiscovered
country of intimacy – from whose bourn no
traveler returns .
It took about fifteen
minutes before Wyn finally came close to the lowest level. He
paused to study the bottom. It was a very far drop.
A troop of Sleeper Devils
was waiting for him. They were walking around in a melancholy
circle. Two were in the middle, slouching.
Lowen was blaring his
message of misery and hate inside their heads. But it would be a
mistake to think of him in Orwellian terms. He was not the Thought
Police. He
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