Quinn frowned deeply. "So you hate vampires, even though you are one. You hate hunters even though you were one. And now you hate the entire human race? Is there anyone or anything that you do like?"
Malcolm was quiet for a moment, but then the old man's lips parted into a smile.
"I like us," he said.
"Which means what?"
"We are better than all who have come before us. We have the origin as humans. We have the knowledge of hunters, and now we have the strength and immortality of vampires. We are better than all three put together." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "You see this list of names?"
Quinn looked at the precise, neat handwriting. "Who are these people?"
"A few are hunters. Smart men with vision for the future. That one is a writer—a Nobel Prize winner.
That one is a child genius who was written up inTime magazine last year. The rest I have chosen based on nearly a decade of study and research of who are already superior beings."
"And?"
The expression on Malcolm's face was pure determination. "We will turn them into what we are. It will be an army of greater immortal beings who will change the course of history and mold the future to our will."
Quinn felt ill. "I think I need another beer."
Malcolm flagged down the waitress to order two more bottles of Heineken. He eyed her as she walked away. "Perhaps we can turn some others, too. Like Clarisse, there. She would be a fine companion."
Quinn's head was spinning. The man had made a list? A list of people he wanted to make into vampires—including Quinn himself had he not already been changed. He came to this club frequently to pick out his next murder victim. He had a preference for imported beer.
Only on the last point could he agree with the old man.
"And you want to use the Eye to help us do this?" Quinn managed.
"Of course. I believe by harnessing the power of the Eye we can become truly powerful. It was owned by a demon and is part of that demon's power. It has sat untouched for a thousand years. It is our fate that we shall possess it and make our wish for power. After all, when we create our army, we need to have strength over them, or there could be an uprising."
"Wouldn't want that."
"So what I've told you hasn't shocked you?"
Quinn drained the last of his first bottle of beer before he felt that he could answer that. "Only shocked by how much sense it all makes."
Malcolm arched a white eyebrow. "I am pleased that you feel that way. While you were an excellent hunter, you perhaps felt too much empathy toward the creatures you ended."
Right. Empathy. Quinn thought he was so much more moral than Malcolm's errant food choices. But what had he done for ten years? Killed indiscriminately. As long as they had fangs and a thirst for blood,
they deserved his stake. At least that's what he tried to convince himself of. How could he ever make up for all he'd done?
Malcolm didn't wait for Quinn to reply. "Perhaps I am the one who understands you better than anyone,
Quinn. The guilt you feel for what you did all those years. I felt it, too, when I was first turned. After all,
how could I have murdered all of those vampires? What made me better than them? But with time and research and patience, I now know that I was turned for a very specific reason. I was chosen, Quinn,
just as you have been."
"Chosen? By who?"
"By God." His face lit up as he said it. "He wants us to act as the plague that will kill off all that is unclean and start again."
With every word Malcolm spoke since he'd first entered the bar, Quinn felt deep disappointment and repulsion growing within him.
Quinn couldn't do anything to stop what had happened before, but at least he could try to prevent a little of Malcolm's planned massacre.
He leaned across the table and tried to keep his voice steady. "I'm sure that God would want us to have the Eye. It's fate."
"I agree."
"Do you have the map on you right now?"
"I do, indeed. I wouldn't leave it anywhere else. Much too risky." Malcolm hesitated. "I also have the red stone we used to reveal the map's true face."
"Will you need it again for something?"
Malcolm eyed him for a moment. "I don't believe so. But one can never be too careful."
A dull ache began in Quinn's stomach. He knew that pain all too well and what it meant. He needed to eat. And if he didn't do it soon, there would be severe consequences.
"Tell me"—Quinn leaned over the table and tried to keep his voice steady—"are there any vampire bars close by?"
"Why?"
"Just in case I get thirsty and I don't feel like going to any additional work."
"You should be completely satiated after that lovely meal I left you this afternoon."
Janie. Right. He was supposed to have drained and killed her. "Oh, I am. She was… delicious. Just call it morbid curiosity."
"There's a bar around the corner behind a red door. There's a neon sign in the window that claims it is a palm reader named Madame Rosa, but beyond that is a bar that could contain up to a hundred vampires."
Quinn nodded and tried to ignore the ache in his gut. Just a little while longer. Get the map, get away,
and then visit Madame Rosa's to fill a necessary evil.
"So tell me, what are we going to do?" he asked.
"Tomorrow we follow the map and find the Eye. As long as I know that you understand my plans and agree with them wholeheartedly."
"I'm with you, Malcolm. Whatever you say."
"I'm very pleased to hear that."