The Vampire's Photograph by Kevin Emerson Page B

Center.
    They were standing on a ring-shaped stone walkway, lined with shops, which encircled a huge, bottomless chasm. Looking down, they could see more ringed levels beneath them.
    â€œHow many floors are there?” Emalie whispered.
    â€œNine,” Oliver replied.
    At first glance, the Center looked like a human shopping mall, arranged in the shape of a cylinder, with gleaming stores and throngs of shoppers—yet the shops were lit with torches and tubes and globes of molten magmalight. At regular intervals around the ringed levels, instead of escalators or elevators, there were only gaps. The crowds of well-dressed vampires simply walked off the edges, then levitated across, or up and down, from one level to the next. Children who had not yet mastered the forces scaled the walls like insects.
    A young vampire man stepped up just beside Emalie. Without breaking stride, he hopped onto the stone railing and stepped off, levitating smoothly across the chasm to a different floor. There were other vampires out in the space, doing the same. In the center of the chasm, they veered to avoid an enormous torrent of falling water.
    High above, countless sewer pipes shot out of the walls, near the high rock ceiling. The pipes crisscrossed the space, and had all been sliced open at the center. Their combined waters formed this huge cascade, which dropped down the chasm into unseen depths that were clouded by steam.
    â€œWhat’s down there?” Dean asked.
    â€œThe ninth level is the charion station,” Oliver explained as Emalie and Dean peered over his shoulders. It wasn’t entirely dark below the ninth level. There was a faint glow of red light and heat amid the steam clouds. “Below that is the Yomi,” said Oliver. “That’s the black market. I don’t think anyone really knows how deep that goes.”
    â€œGuh,” Dean muttered queasily, leaning away from the railing.
    Oliver looked to Emalie, whose expression of wonder had finally returned. “I guess it’s pretty amazing,” he offered. “It’s really nothing compared to the Underworld cities.”
    She nodded slightly, then looked around further, and suddenly her eyes narrowed. “Are those—” she whispered, “are those Christmas trees ?”
    Every level was dotted with festive trees, decorated with red lights, silver garlands, and glittering ornaments. Some ornaments were simply Skrit symbols fashioned from iron, while others were shaped like cages, with tiny lizards scurrying inside.
    â€œWe celebrate Longest Night,” said Oliver. “It’s the biggest vampire holiday. Well, Festival of Waning Sun, in the fall, is almost as big, but—”
    â€œBut—how can vampires have Christmas trees?” For the first time, Oliver saw a look on Emalie’s face that wasn’t wonder or fear, but disappointment.
    â€œWell,” Oliver said, feeling a bit defensive, “Longest Night coincides with the winter solstice. I mean—vampires have been celebrating celestial holidays for thousands of years. Besides, those aren’t technically Christmas trees. There were these Germanic tribes and Wiccans, who decorated trees for the winter solstice way before people started using them for Christmas.” Oliver decided not to mention that those Germanic tribes sometimes decorated their trees with the bodies of their slaves.
    Emalie gazed at him blankly. “What?”
    Oliver couldn’t tell whether she was intrigued or repulsed. “There’s only been a Christmas for like, two thousand years,” he went on. “There’s been a Longest Night for a lot longer than that.”
    Emalie considered this, but then she shook her head. “Christmas is about giving and love. Demons can’t—”
    â€œWe love,” Oliver said, and felt a surge of embarrassment. “And we give gifts, too, for Longest Night.” Oliver stopped himself. There