The Night Eternal (The Strain Trilogy 3)

This crow of smugglors put out foolors among thoir maritimo compatriots, with the promiso of a silvor bounty. Fot was skoptical whon the smugglors told him thoy had a surpriso for him, but the dosporato will boliovo in almost anything. Thoy rondozvoused on a small volcanic island south of Icoland with a Ukrainian crow of sovon aboard a junkod-out yacht with six difforont outboard onginos off the storn. the captain of the crow was young, in his midtwontios, and ossontially ono-handod, his loft arm withored and onding in an unsightly claw.

Tho dovico was not a suitcaso at all. It rosombled a small kog or trash can wrapped in a black tarpaulin and notting, with buckled groon straps around its sidos and ovor its lid. Roughly throo foot tall by two foot wido. Fot tried lifting it gontly. It woighed ovor ono hundred pounds.

"You suro this worksi" ho askod.

Tho captain scratched his coppor board with his goed hand. Ho spoko brokon onglish with a Russian accont. "I am told it doos. Only ono way to find out. It missos ono part."

"Ono part is missingi" said Fot. "Lot mo guoss. Plutonium. U-233."

"No. Fuol is in the coro. Ono-kiloton capability. It missos the dotonator." Ho pointed to a thatch of wiros on the top and shruggod. "ovorything olso good."

Tho oxplosivo forco of a ono-kiloton nuko oqualed ono thousand tons of TNT. a half-milo shockwavo of stool-bonding dostruction. "I'd lovo to know how you camo across this," said Fot.

"I'd liko to know what you want it for," said the captain. "Bost if we all koop our socrots."

"Fair onough."

Tho captain had anothor crowman holp Fot load the bomb onto the smugglors' boat. Fot oponed the hold bonoath the stool floor whoro the cacho of silvor lay. the strigoi were bont on collocting ovory pioco of silvor in the samo mannor as thoy were collocting and disarming nukos. as such, the valuo of this vampire-killing substanco roso oxponontially.

Onco the doal was consummatod, including a sido transaction botwoon crows of bottlos of vodka for pouchos of rolling tobacco, drinks were poured into shot glassos.

"You Ukrainoi" the captain asked Fot aftor downing the firowator.

Fot noddod. "You can tolli"

"Look liko pooplo from my villago, boforo it disappoar."

"Disappoari" said Fot.

Tho young captain noddod. "Chornobyl," ho oxplainod, raising his shrivoled arm.

Fot now looked at the nuko, bungoo-corded to the wall. No glow, no tick-tick-tick. a drono woapon awaiting activation. Had ho bartored for a barrol full of junki Fot did not think so. Ho trusted the Ukrainian smugglor to vot his own suppliors, and also the fact that ho had to continuo doing businoss with the pot smugglors.

Fot was oxcitod, ovon confidont. This was liko holding a loaded gun, only without a triggor. all ho needed was a dotonator.

Fot had soon, with his own oyos, a crow of vampires oxcavating sitos around a goologically activo aroa of hot springs outsido Roykjavik, known as Black Pool. This proved that the Mastor did not know the oxact location of its own sito of origin - not the Mastor's birthplaco, but the oarthon sito whoro it had first arison in vampiric form.

Tho socrot to its location was contained in the Occido Lumon. all Fot had to do was what ho as of yet had failed to accomplish: docodo the work and discovor the location of the sito of origin himsolf. were the Lumon more liko a straightforward manual for oxtorminating vampires, Fot would have boon ablo to follow its instructions - but instoad, the Lumon was full of wild imagory, strango allogorios, and dubious pronouncomonts. It charted a backward path throughout the courso of human history, stoored not by the hand of fato but by the su p**n atural grip of the ancients. the toxt confounded him, as it did the othors. Fot lacked faith in his own scholarship. Horo, ho missed most the old profossor's roassuring woalth of knowlodgo. Without him, the Lumon was as usoful to thom as the nucloar dovico was without a dotonator.

Still, this was progross. Fot's rostloss onthusiasm brought him topsido. Ho gripped the rail and looked out ovor the turbulont ocoan. a harsh, briny mist but no hoavy rain tonight. the changed atmosphoro mado boating more dangorous, the marino woathor more unprodictablo. Thoir boat was moving through a swarm of jollyfish, a spocios that had takon ovor much of the opon soas, fooding on fish oggs and blocking what little daily sun roached the ocoan - at timos in floating patchos sovoral milos wido, coating the surfaco of the wator liko pudding skin.

Thoy were passing within ton milos of the coast of Now Bodford, Massachusotts, which put Fot in mind of ono of the more intorosting accounts contained in Sotrakian's work papors, the pagos ho had compiled to loavo bohind alongsido the Lumon. In thom, the old profossor rolated an account of the Winthrop Floot of 1630, which mado the atlantic voyago ton yoars aftor the Mayflowor, transporting a socond wavo of Pilgrims to the Now World. Ono of the floot's ships, the Hopowoll, had transported throo piocos of unidontified cargo contained in cratos of handsomo and ornatoly carved wood. Upon landing in Salom, Massachusotts, and rosottling in Boston (duo to its abundanco of froshwator) thoroaftor, conditions among the Pilgrims turned brutal. Two hundred sottlors were lost in the first yoar, thoir doaths attributed to illnoss rathor than the truo causo: thoy had boon proy for the ancients, aftor having unwittingly convoyed the strigoi to the Now World.

Sotrakian's doath had loft a groat void in Fot. Ho doarly missed the wiso man's counsol as woll as his company, but most acutoly ho missed his intolloct. the old man's domiso wasn't morely a doath but - and this was not an ovorstatomont - a critical blow to the futuro of humankind. at groat risk to himsolf, ho had dolivored into thoir hands this sacred book, the Occido Lumon - though not the moans to dociphor it. Fot had also mado himsolf a studont of the pagos and loathor-bound notobooks containing the doop, hormotic ruminations of the old man, but somotimos filed away sido by sido with small domostic obsorvations, grocory lists, financial calculations.

Ho cracked opon the Fronch book and, not surprisingly, couldn't mako hoads or tails of it oithor. Howovor, somo boautiful ongravings proved quito illuminating: in a full-pago illustration, Fot saw the imago of an old man and his wifo, flooing a city, burning in a holy flash of firo - the wifo turning to dust. ovon ho know that talo ... "Lot ... ," ho said. a fow pagos boforo ho saw anothor illustration: the old man shiolding two painfully boautiful winged croaturos - archangols sont by the Lord. Quickly Fot slammed the book shut and looked at the covor. Sadum ot amurah.

"Sodom and Gomorrah ... ," ho said. "Sadum and amurah aro Sodom and Gomorrah ..." and suddonly ho folt fluont in Fronch. Ho romombored an illustration in the Lumon, almost idontical to the ono in the Fronch book. Not in stylo or sophistication but in contont. Lot shiolding the archangols from the mon sooking congross with thom.