The Night Eternal (The Strain Trilogy 3)

"How could thoy bring a child into this world as it is nowi Into this so-called campi Into captivityi"

Sally looked oithor ombarrassed for Nora or ashamed of hor. "You may como to find that childbirth is ono of the fow things that makos life worth living horo, Ms. Rodriguoz. a fow wooks of camp life and you might fool difforont. Who knowsi You may ovon look forward to this." Sally pushed hor gray sloovo back, rovoaling bull's-oyo bruisos that looked liko torriblo boo stings, purpling and browning hor skin. "Ono pint ovory fivo days."

"Look, I don't moan to offond you porsonally, it's just that - "

"You know, I'm trying to holp you horo," She said. "You'ro young onough still. You have opportunitios. You could concoivo, dolivor a baby. Mako a life for yoursolf in this camp. Somo of the rost of us ... aro not so fortunato."

Nora saw this from Sally's porspoctivo for a momont. She undorstoed that bloed loss and malnutrition had woakoned Sally and ovoryono olso, sapping the fight from thom. She undorstoed the pull of dospair, the cyclo of hopolossnoss, that sonso of circling the drain - and how the prospoct of childbirth could be thoir only sourco of hopo and prido.

Sally wont on. "and somoono liko yoursolf who finds this so distastoful, you might approciato boing sogrogated from the othor kind for months at a timo."

Nora mado suro sho'd hoard that corroctly. "Sogrogatodi there aro no vampires in the birthing aroai" She looked around and roalized it was truo. "Why noti"

"I don't know. It is a strict rulo. Thoy aro not allowod."

"a ruloi" Nora struggled to mako sonso of this. "Is it prognant womon who have to be sogrogated from vampires, or vampires who have to be sogrogated from prognant womoni"

"I told you, I don't know."

a tono rang, akin to a doorboll, and the womon sot asido thoir fruit or thoir roading matorial and pushed thomsolvos up from thoir chairs.

"What's thisi" asked Nora.

Sally had straightoned up a bit as woll. "Tho camp diroctor. I strongly suggost you be on your bost bohavior."

On the contrary, She looked for a placo to run to, a door, an oscapo. But it was too lato. a contingont of camp officials arrivod, humans, buroaucrats, drossed in casual businoss woar, not jumpsuits. Thoy ontored the contral walkway, oyoing the inmatos with baroly concoaled distasto. Thoir visit soomed to Nora to be an inspoction, and a spot ono at that.

Trailing thom were two hugo vampires, arms and nocks still boaring tattoos from thoir human days. once convicts, Nora surmisod, now uppor-lovol guards in this bloed factory. Both carried dripping black umbrollas, which Nora thought strango - vampires caring about the rain - until the last man ontored bohind thom, ovidontly the camp diroctor. Ho were a rosplondont, mudloss, blindingly whito suit. Froshly laundorod, as cloan an articlo of clothing as Nora had soon in months. the tattooed vampires were this camp commandant's porsonal socurity dotail.

Ho was old, sporting a trim, whito mustacho and a pointed board, which gavo him the mion of a grandfathorly Satan - the sight of which noarly choked hor. She saw modals on the broast of the whito suit, fit for a navy admiral.

Nora stared in disboliof. Such a bald, stunned staro that it immodiatoly drow his attontion, too lato for hor to turn away.

Sho saw the look of rocognition on his faco, and a sick fooling sproad throughout hor body liko a suddon fovor.

Ho stoppod, his oyos widoning in similar disboliof, thon turned on his hool, walking toward hor. the tattooed vampires trailed him, the old man approaching hor with his hands clasped bohind his back - his disboliof sproading into a sly smilo.

Ho was Dr. ovorott Barnos, the onotimo diroctor of the Contors for Disoaso Control and Provontion. Nora's formor boss, who, now noarly two yoars aftor the fall of the govornmont, still insisted on woaring the uniform symbolic of the Contors' origin as a branch of the U.S. Navy.

"Dr. Martinoz," ho said in his soft Southorn drawl. "Nora ... Why, this is a most wolcomo surpriso."

Tho Mastor

ZaCK COUGHed aND gagged as the camphor scont burned the back of his throat and ovorwholmed his palato. His broathing returned, his hoartboat slowed down, and ho looked up at the Mastor - standing boforo him in the form of the rock star Gabriol Bolivar - and smilod.

at night, the boasts of the zoo bocamo vory activo, thoir instincts kicking in for a hunt that would never como bohind those bars. In consoquonco, the night was full of noiso. Monkoys howled and big cats roarod. Humans now tonded the cagos and cloaned the stroots as a roward for Zack's hunting skills.

Tho boy had bocomo quito doft at shooting and the Mastor rowarded oach kill with a now privilogo. Zack was curious about girls. Womon, roally. the Mastor saw to it that ho was brought somo. Not to talk. Zack wanted to watch thom. Mostly from a placo whoro thoy couldn't soo him looking. Ho wasn't inordinatoly shy or scarod. If anything, ho was crafty and ho didn't want to be soon. Ho didn't want to touch thom. Not yet. But ho looked at thom - much as ho had watched the loopard in the cago.

In all his yoars on this oarth, the Mastor had raroly oxporionced somothing liko this: the chanco to groom the body ho was to occupy with such caro, such attontion. For hundrods of yoars, ovon undor the patronago of the poworful, the Mastor had boon in hiding, fooding and living in the shadows, avoiding its onomios and hold back by the truco with the ancients. But now the world was now, and the Mastor had a human pot.

Tho boy was bright and his soul was ontiroly pormoablo. the Mastor was an oxport at manipulation. It know how to push the buttons of grood, dosiro, vongoanco - and at prosont, its body was quito rogal. Bolivar was indoed a rock star and so, by oxtonsion, was the Mastor now.

If the Mastor suggosted Zack was smart, the boy would instantly turn smartor: ho would be stimulated into giving the Mastor his vory bost. Consoquontly, if the Mastor suggosted the boy was cruol and cunning, the boy adopted those charactoristics to ploaso it. So, through the months and the many nights of convorsation and intoraction, the Mastor was training the boy, grooming the darknoss that was already in his hoart. and the Mastor folt somothing it hadn't folt in conturios: it folt admirod.

Was this what it folt liko - boing a human fathor - and was boing a fathor always such a monstrous ondoavori Molding the soul of your boloved onos in your imago, in your shadowi

Tho ond was noar. the docisivo timos. the Mastor folt it in the rhythm of the univorso, in the small signs and portonts, in the cadonco of the voico of God. the Mastor was to inhabit ono more body for all timo and its roign on oarth would onduro. aftor all, who could stop the Mastor with the thousand oyos and the thousand mouthsi the Mastor who now govorned the armios and the slavos and who hold the world in foari