Abraham Lincoln_ Vampire Hunter - Seth Grahame-Smith [83]
I woke in absolute darkness, the faint rumble of a coach’s wheels beneath me.
“Put him out again,” said the unfamiliar voice.
A sharp, oh so brief pain on the top of my head… the universe before me in all of its color and majesty… and then… nothing.
“I am deeply sorry,” said the familiar voice, “but we can trust no living man with our whereabouts.”
It was Henry.
My hood was presently removed, and I found myself in the center of a grand, two-tiered ballroom, its intricate ceiling thirty feet above my aching head; its long, dark red curtains drawn; the whole lit dimly by chandeliers. Gold upon gold. Marble upon marble. The finest carvings and furnishings, and a floor of wood so dark and polished it might have been black glass. It was the most splendid room I had ever seen or, for that matter, ever thought possible.
Three men of varying age and build stood behind Henry, each leaning against the hearth of a kingly marble fireplace. Each with contempt in his eyes. These, I assumed, were my assailants. A pair of long sofas faced each other in front of the fireplace, with a low table in between. Upon this, a silver tea service reflected the light of the fire, casting strange, intoxicating patterns on the walls and ceiling. A diminutive, graying gentleman sat on the left sofa, teacup in hand. I had seen him before… I was sure of it… but in my confused state I could not place him.
My senses returning, I noticed perhaps twenty more gentlemen scattered about the room, some standing behind me, some seated in high-backed chairs against the walls. Another twenty loomed above, looking down from the shadowy mezzanines on each side of the room. It was clear [they] meant to keep their faces hidden.
“Please,” said Henry. He motioned for Abe to sit across from the diminutive gentleman.
I hesitated to come any closer until Henry (sensing the reason behind my reluctance) motioned to my assailants, and they removed from the fireplace. “I give you my word,” he said as they went, “no further harm shall befall you tonight.” Believing him sincere, I took a seat across from the gentleman whom I could not yet place, clutching the back of my head with my left hand and steadying myself with the other.
“Vampires,” said Henry—tilting his head toward the three men who now took their seats along the wall.
“Yes,” said Abe. “I’d worked that out on my own, thank you.”
Henry smiled. “Vampires,” he said, motioning around the ballroom. “The cursed, bloodsucking lot of us. The exceptions being yourself… and Mr. Seward here.”
Seward…
Senator William Seward was the former governor of New York, one of the leading antislavery voices in Congress, and the man widely expected to be the Republican presidential nominee in 1860. He and Abe had met nine years earlier while campaigning for General Zachary “Old Rough and Ready” Taylor in New England.
“A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Lincoln,” he said, extending his hand.
Abe shook it. “Likewise, Mr. Seward, likewise.”
“You are doubtless aware of Mr. Seward’s reputation?” asked Henry.
“I am.”
“Then you must know that he is a favorite to be nominated this time around.”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” said Henry. “But tell me… did you know that Seward here has hunted and destroyed nearly as many vampires as you have?”
Abe had to bite his lip to keep his jaw from dropping. Bookish, privileged little Seward—a vampire hunter? Impossible.
“Revelations,” said Henry. “Revelations are what bring us together tonight.” Henry paced in front of the hearth.
“I have brought you here,” he said, “because my colleagues wished to see for themselves the purpose that I have seen in you. To see this Abraham Lincoln I have spoken of these many years. I have brought you here because they wanted proof that you were capable of what we ask; to judge you directly before going any further.”
And how shall I be judged? By the expediency with which I behead