Read Online Suck It Up and Die by Brian Meehl - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brian Meehl
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loosey-goosey with the rules, why don’t you force them to stop?”
“Force them?”
“Yeah, go old school, vamp up, and thrall them into obedience.”
Birnam chuckled. “Did I vamp up and thrall you into obedience when you were feeding on Portia?”
Morning cringed.
Why had he brought that up?
“No,” Birnam answered. “I trusted in the self-control you had learned. I let you stop yourself. My vamp-up days are over. I am only here to guide us from the
selva obscura
.”
“I thought we were out of the dark woods.”
“We are … but they will always be behind us, trying to lure us back in.”
The weariness in his voice made Morning wonder:
Does Birnam know more than he’s admitting? Does he know about the secret consensual bloodlust clubs Zoë mentioned?
“The bottom line is this,” Birnam explained. “If Leaguers behaving badly, like Rachel, keep stoking the fires of Becky-Dell Wallace and her Lifers behaving badly, it will come to no good. This country has a long history of suppressing the minority it fears. We could be forced onto reservations or put in internment camps. And it’s not like we can return underground. We’re all registered with the BVA.” He paused. “Work with me, Morning. Help me stopRachel from waking up the vampire slayer that still lurks in all Lifers.”
After hanging up, Morning’s eyes traveled back to the harbor. The Statue of Liberty held her torch aloft. He sighed over the irony. All he wanted was to be a firefighter and put
out
fires. Now Birnam wanted him to take up the torch of freedom again, and wave it for the Leaguer cause.
16
Mother Forest
In the White Mountains of California is a forest of bristlecone pines. The trees are gnarled, bald trunks topped with sparse tufts of green needles. If God were a barber, this would be His worst haircut.
Vampires call it the Mother Forest; it is their cradle and grave. The first vampires, the Old Ones, evolved here from an ancient tribe of cannibals, who, as they ate their way through the neighboring tribes, also began eating the bark and nuts of the bristlecone pines. The trees, being the longest living things on earth, imparted the Old Ones with the gift of immortality. When the Old Ones devoured their last neighbor and faced starvation, the tribe disbanded. That was when the first vampires, the first ambassadors of bloodlust, spread across the globe.
Ever since then, when a vampire is slain and reduced to a pile of ash, it transforms into a seedpod, which rides the wind until it returns to the Mother Forest. There, theseedpod buries itself in the soil and grows into both a vampire’s last form and its tombstone: a bristlecone pine.
At the edge of the forest, in the shadow of an older, larger tree, a twisting pine grew. Unlike the bark of the older tree, with its smooth twisting lines like gray taffy, the bark of this young bristlecone pine was different. It was russet red; its lines twisted with a pace and energy that made it appear to be more like fire than wood.
As dusk fell, the tree’s green needles rustled. There was no wind; the large tree towering above it was as still as stone. The small tree quivered from crown to root. The twisting creases racing up its trunk vibrated and began to split. One seam in the trunk split wider than the others; a human hand snaked out. Another followed. The hands grasped at the air like fleshy spiders looking for a grip. They found the edges of the widening rift in the trunk, and pushed. With a shattering scream of ripping wood and human lung, the red tree exploded in a cloud of splinters. What remained of the tree’s cleaved trunk toppled to the ground in a dusty crash.
Where the tree had once risen, stood the issue of its birth. A man: tall, lean, naked. His skin was copper colored, not unlike the bark of the tree that had birthed him. And even though it was smooth, and streamlined with taut muscles, his flesh bore a pattern of wavy lines. His skin was grained, as if he were
“Force them?”
“Yeah, go old school, vamp up, and thrall them into obedience.”
Birnam chuckled. “Did I vamp up and thrall you into obedience when you were feeding on Portia?”
Morning cringed.
Why had he brought that up?
“No,” Birnam answered. “I trusted in the self-control you had learned. I let you stop yourself. My vamp-up days are over. I am only here to guide us from the
selva obscura
.”
“I thought we were out of the dark woods.”
“We are … but they will always be behind us, trying to lure us back in.”
The weariness in his voice made Morning wonder:
Does Birnam know more than he’s admitting? Does he know about the secret consensual bloodlust clubs Zoë mentioned?
“The bottom line is this,” Birnam explained. “If Leaguers behaving badly, like Rachel, keep stoking the fires of Becky-Dell Wallace and her Lifers behaving badly, it will come to no good. This country has a long history of suppressing the minority it fears. We could be forced onto reservations or put in internment camps. And it’s not like we can return underground. We’re all registered with the BVA.” He paused. “Work with me, Morning. Help me stopRachel from waking up the vampire slayer that still lurks in all Lifers.”
After hanging up, Morning’s eyes traveled back to the harbor. The Statue of Liberty held her torch aloft. He sighed over the irony. All he wanted was to be a firefighter and put
out
fires. Now Birnam wanted him to take up the torch of freedom again, and wave it for the Leaguer cause.
16
Mother Forest
In the White Mountains of California is a forest of bristlecone pines. The trees are gnarled, bald trunks topped with sparse tufts of green needles. If God were a barber, this would be His worst haircut.
Vampires call it the Mother Forest; it is their cradle and grave. The first vampires, the Old Ones, evolved here from an ancient tribe of cannibals, who, as they ate their way through the neighboring tribes, also began eating the bark and nuts of the bristlecone pines. The trees, being the longest living things on earth, imparted the Old Ones with the gift of immortality. When the Old Ones devoured their last neighbor and faced starvation, the tribe disbanded. That was when the first vampires, the first ambassadors of bloodlust, spread across the globe.
Ever since then, when a vampire is slain and reduced to a pile of ash, it transforms into a seedpod, which rides the wind until it returns to the Mother Forest. There, theseedpod buries itself in the soil and grows into both a vampire’s last form and its tombstone: a bristlecone pine.
At the edge of the forest, in the shadow of an older, larger tree, a twisting pine grew. Unlike the bark of the older tree, with its smooth twisting lines like gray taffy, the bark of this young bristlecone pine was different. It was russet red; its lines twisted with a pace and energy that made it appear to be more like fire than wood.
As dusk fell, the tree’s green needles rustled. There was no wind; the large tree towering above it was as still as stone. The small tree quivered from crown to root. The twisting creases racing up its trunk vibrated and began to split. One seam in the trunk split wider than the others; a human hand snaked out. Another followed. The hands grasped at the air like fleshy spiders looking for a grip. They found the edges of the widening rift in the trunk, and pushed. With a shattering scream of ripping wood and human lung, the red tree exploded in a cloud of splinters. What remained of the tree’s cleaved trunk toppled to the ground in a dusty crash.
Where the tree had once risen, stood the issue of its birth. A man: tall, lean, naked. His skin was copper colored, not unlike the bark of the tree that had birthed him. And even though it was smooth, and streamlined with taut muscles, his flesh bore a pattern of wavy lines. His skin was grained, as if he were
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