At the impact, the creature seemed to self-implode, its mouth open in a silent scream, its iron fangs catching a slant of moonlight through the trees as it covered its bloodied chest with a claw. Tail snapping into itself and smacking the ground, the thing stumbled backward. Then, without further ado, it hissed into oblivion, just like Dawn’s creature had done.
Its pile of black clothing simmered, bodiless, at the base of the tree as Kiko kept his gun and crucifix at the ready. Soon, the material burned to nothing.
“Breisi’s pet ran away,” he said, sounding slightly pained as he favored his left shoulder. Still, he was incredibly nonplussed, even with a stream of blood drying on his face. “And, damn, you did some bitchin’ good work when you locked eyes with one earlier. No wonder the boss let you come with us. You might have some kind of resistance to mind tricks, Dawn, and he obviously knew that. I mean, jeez, making eye contact is a no-no because they can compel you if they so choose. I thought you were a goner.”
In spite of the compliment, Dawn couldn’t move from her spot on the ground. Literally. It was like she was in the midst of a quiet panic attack, just like when you hear a sound while you’re trying to sleep, alone in the house, at midnight. A footstep down the hall, a shuffle of movement under your bed. A thud that makes you hope nothing has crept into your room.
It was at times like this that a body couldn’t do anything but wait, wish, as if not moving will make whatever it is go away.
Dawn couldn’t even ask Kiko if he thought Breisi’s creature might come back for them, because from the way he was holding his weapons, the answer was obvious.
Moments later, Breisi joined them, all business with her first-aid kit taking the place of that crossbow.
She must’ve gone to the car, Dawn thought, careful not to move, careful not to disturb this fragile reprieve.
Straightaway, Breisi went to work, snapping on latex gloves, taking a sample of burned skin from Dawn’s arm, depositing it in a container and capping it. Before she slathered some kind of stinking gel where the creature’s spit had fizzed into flesh, then on the calf that’d been sliced by its tail, Breisi lingered near Dawn’s silver arm bracelet. There were black char marks where the spit had hit it but, otherwise, the jewelry was unscathed.
As the older woman wrapped Dawn’s leg in gauze, she noted, “Lucky. It didn’t get you deep enough to need stitches.”
Dawn didn’t answer. She’d started trembling, low in her stomach. If she didn’t want to find Frank so badly, she’d have burned rubber at the sight of that first crucifix.
But she did want to find him. Had to find her dad—the only realistic part of this whole freak show right now.
Through a slow haze, Dawn watched Breisi sit back on her haunches and inspect her. She had a streak of dirt on one cheek, but that was it. Unruffled. A new sense of respect washed over Dawn, a sort of reluctant awe of Breisi and Kiko. A grudging thankfulness.
Kiko, limping slightly, came over to join the proceedings. In addition to the blood on his face, his pants were torn. “Think she’ll be okay? She ain’t looking so hot.”
“She won’t turn, if that’s what you’re asking, fool. That thing spit at her and…check it out…the stuff burns.”
“I got hit by its blood and it doesn’t hurt.” Kiko dabbed at the red on his forehead. “I just hope it doesn’t contaminate me in any way.”
“Boss says you need an exchange of blood for the change, so don’t worry your pretty head about it.”
“Thanks for explaining, Van Helsing. I knew that.”
Breisi went back to fussing, plucking at a glove. And why not—it’d been a whole few minutes since she’d gotten to whirl around like a hurricane.
“Besides,” she added, “you’re the one who had that vision about Dawn being ‘key.’ You tell me if she’ll be okay.”
Kiko nodded, already convinced. “Well, I suppose being key means she’ll man up and stop being in shock pretty soon.”
Breisi stopped fidgeting and glanced at him. “We went through the same thing at our first sighting, Kik. And we never had this level of confrontation with a vamp before.”
They were talking like Dawn wasn’t even there. And maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she’d checked out of her mind and all that was left was for her to lay here just staring straight ahead, hearing the conversation like it was being held in an echo chamber.
She saw the psychic poke at Breisi. Back to Happy Kiko. “Did you see me in action? My kill disappeared, just like steam. Sweet, huh?”
“Mine did the same thing after decapitation.”
Breisi kept watching Dawn, who merely watched back.
“Oh.” Kiko went quiet. “Hell, just because you lop the head off them doesn’t make you any more creative, you know.”
Something flickered inside Dawn. Annoyance at Kiko. She was okay, thank God.
“Jeez, Kik, let’s not be jealous of my saw-bow.” Breisi was also irritated. “And don’t make this into a monster slaying contest, because you’ll lose.”
“Silver bullet to the heart,” Kiko said. “Tell me that’s an everyday headline. I’m so good at this.”
Breisi was still watching, but Dawn didn’t have the strength to physically react just yet. Instead, her eyes started to close, just for a blessed second….
A smack to Dawn’s cheek made her start to attention.
Breisi was staring at her, still gauging.
Skin stinging, Dawn lightly smacked Breisi right back by using her good arm. Tit for tat.
“Ooo, girlfight,” Kiko said.
But Breisi didn’t seem too put out about it. In fact, she smiled a little, then stood. “Get your booty up, Dawn. We’ve got a lot to do.”
Pissed at being challenged, Dawn slowly rose to her feet, touching her arm as Breisi went about tending to Kiko’s minor injuries. The gel was tingling on her wounds, reminding her of how close she’d come to being cut into Dawn McNuggets.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I…”
Words failed her. She wasn’t so great at this, even if she was grateful.
As if agreeing, Breisi paused, then obviously decided to go easy on her, nodding toward Dawn’s arm. “Let me know if there’s pain. I’ve used a new balm on you, my own concoction made with a lot of advice from the boss. I just hope it works like it’s supposed to. I’ll check on it later.”
“Vampires,” Dawn shook her head. “Vampires, you guys.”
Currently under Breisi’s ministrations, Kiko shrugged. “You’re going to get to know more than you ever wanted about vamps, ghosts, ghouls, or whatever hides in every little kid’s closet. If you stick with this, that is.”
Dawn managed to look offended, partly because Kiko had taken a jab at her pride. “I’m not going to quit.”
Turning her back, Breisi bent down and started to pack her first-aid kit.
Kiko gave Dawn another once-over, then motioned toward the lip of the tree stand. They started to walk toward civilization, knowing Breisi would catch up.
“Now that you’re a believer…” he said, giving her an I-told-you-so glance.
She just blew out a breath.
“…there’re a million things to know, Dawn, starting with the fact that there’re all kinds of vamps. All kinds of ghouls. Night to night, we’re never sure what we’ll be dealing with, and some of them are even good eggs, believe it or not.”
Dawn’s laugh was cutting. “A decent vampire?”
“They exist, and that’s why I tried to talk with these guys before defending.”
“Holy mother, Kiko, how did you get involved with this stuff?”
He shrugged. “The boss found both me and Breisi about a year ago, tested us with those mind powers he tried on you today, except our tests were more PG, if you know what I mean.”
Even though she was still in the getting-over-the-monster-attack stage, Dawn whipped up a dirty look at his nosiness.
Kiko offered a cheeky grin. “When the boss first hired us for �
�odd jobs,’ as he called it, it was a good paycheck between auditions. We trained, got educated in supernatural lore, trained some more. Little by little, the boss made the paranormal commonplace, even though Breisi had experienced a lot of it when she was younger. I did, too, but my talents weren’t nearly as good before the boss showed up. Then there came a night when he thought we were ready enough to hit the streets, to start searching out ‘the unexplainable,’ as he calls it. Usually, we just report what we find to him. Well, that and a few tangles with a cranky vamp or a sour ghost. Boss is looking for something real specific….”
He shut up, obviously unwilling to go on.
Dawn’s temper flared, surprise, surprise. “Come, on, Kiko, what’s he—”
“L.A. is a cesspool of paranormal activity.” He was Serious Kiko now. “We’ve been kept busy, but not like tonight. Jeez, these vamps…We’ve never seen ’em before.”
Soft footsteps picked up speed behind them. With one glimpse over her shoulder, Dawn saw Breisi, her head down as she followed them back to the car.
“But if they’re hanging out here, it looks like we’re getting close to something,” Kiko said.
“Why didn’t you prepare me for the vamps?”
As they returned to the car, Kiko looked mortally wounded. “I didn’t feel them coming. My talents don’t seem to work on vamps the way they do on everything else. Besides, I was expecting more of a ghost, and I think the boss wasn’t sure, himself. Believe me, Dawn, the last thing we want to do is get you hurt.”
A tiny twinge needled her chest, but she shrugged it off—especially when Kiko glanced away from her, abruptly playing with his torn clothes, distractedly trying to put himself together. As for Breisi, she was performing the same number, concentrating oh-so-intensely on stowing the first-aid kit.
Vamps. Ghosts. Things that went bump in the night.
She nodded toward Breisi. “What about her?”
“What about her?”
Dawn wanted to know why the other woman wasn’t as aching and bruised as she was, wanted to know why a petite lab rat had trumped Dawn’s own tough ass during the brawl.
“How can she deal with all this?” she asked.
Kiko seemed to actually weigh the act of revealing more about the private Breisi against his own raging need to verbalize anything and everything.
Luckily, he couldn’t fight his nature.
He lowered his voice. “Breisi grew up in a bad part of San Diego. I guess her dad was in jail half the time, and her mom was one of those suffer-in-silence types. Breisi told me once that three things got her though those years: the determination to get a college scholarship, the conversations she had with the ghost of her abuelita, and a good right hook.”
“She sees dead people?” Dawn whispered.
“Not anymore. When she got out of that house on a free ride to USC, the visitations stopped. She could have just been using them as a coping mechanism when she needed it the most.” He puffed up a little, the competitive guy. “That’s what I think, anyway.”
“And The Voice found her…how?”
“He saw her on Bandito. She got that job when a producer spotted her waitressing, and she used some of her salary to save up for engineering grad school. The producers used to worship her. I mean, why not—she’s gorgeous and can work the hell out of a crying scene. But she never loved acting, just the paycheck. Grad school costs an arm and a leg, even with financial help, and she was sending money to her ingrate mom, too. But”—here, Kiko motioned Dawn closer, and she bent next to him, ear near his mouth—“she eventually got fired and our boss was there to take up where Bandito left off. He needed someone who was tech-savvy and she needed…someone. When it comes right down to it, we’re more of a real family to Breisi than her other one ever was—”
Kiko cleared his throat when Breisi brushed by them on her way to the mansion’s door. Once there, she knocked and sent her coworkers a piercing glance that made Kiko zip his lips.
The house’s front porch light blared on, and an old woman, her shoulders hunched, her skin listless, opened the door. Her mouth went agape at seeing the PI team in such disheveled attire.
“Mrs. Pennybaker,” Breisi the good cop said. She was holding a dark duffel bag now, and Dawn could only guess at what the hell was in it.
“That was a long trip up the driveway,” the old woman said.
“We had some matters to attend to before we knocked.”
Mrs. Pennybaker broke into an anxious fret. “Are you here with more news about Robby?”
“Not yet, ma’am,” Breisi said gently. “I’m sorry.”
That one faint glint of Marla Pennybaker’s hope exploded in the crumbling of her posture; it reminded Dawn of how those vampires had disappeared into themselves, perishing.
When she looked closer, she saw that this wasn’t a senior citizen at all. Mrs. Pennybaker couldn’t have been older than her mid-fifties, but she’d been so beaten down by life, by the tragedy of her son, that most of her had already died.
A ghost, Dawn thought. Then she pictured her dad—vital and full of smiles—in all his old pictures with Eva. She remembered the reality of how much he’d changed after her mom had died one month after giving birth to Dawn.
Ghost.
She glanced at Marla Pennybaker again, pitying her. Knowing her.
Because, like this woman, both Dawn and Frank had also lost something along the way.
Making them restless, empty spirits, too.
Six
Below, Phase One
Working the whip with skilled ease, Sorin sent one more lash to the bared back of the pale, massive Guard as it cowered against the stone wall.
“S…sorry,” the beaten vampire said. “I’m sorry, Master.”
Sorin relaxed the whip in mercy as the Guard slumped to the ground of its cell—its home. It had been reduced to groans at its punishment for failing so spectacularly on its mission tonight. The iron of its fangs decorated a grimace; the barb of its sharp tail beat against the stone in pathetic time.
Even though it was Sorin’s job to discipline the Guards, among other residents of the Underground, he couldn’t bring himself to strike at the poor creature again. It already understood what had gone wrong: the drone, plus his two newly created comrades who had gone Above tonight, had been careless while tracking their quarry. Once they had been detected, they had panicked, attacking when they should have retreated.
That was the problem with the Guards—expendable, lower-rank vampires. They had limited intelligence, the better to follow orders with. Starting immediately, Sorin would have to improve their skills in judging a situation, as well as in how to fight more effectively Above, if required.
“You have learned not to attack any humans who will be missed?” Sorin asked, walking to the corner of the cell where he had set down a bowl of sustenance for the Guard.
At the sight of dinner, the creature’s tongue lolled out of its mouth in sad anticipation of the cold, secondhand blood. “Yes, Master, yes. Food?”
Sorin tilted the bowl, watching the discarded blood from the feeding he, himself, had enjoyed not ten minutes ago as it lapped against the porcelain. Disgusting, this cold, leftover meal, but it was what kept the Guards alive and happy.
He set the bowl on the ground, locking gazes with the red-eyed creature as it began panting for its meal. When Sorin left the unlocked cell, the vampire buried its face in the bowl, sucking and growling in pleasure.
Heading for the emporium, Sorin left the creature to its ecstasy and walked the electric lamp–lined tunnels that held the Guards’ cells.
His harsh treatment with the whip did not bother him. Now was the time for vigilance, as far as matters Above were concerned; that is why the Guards had finally been sent up. In the past year, there had been a breach of security, an escape, and a crack in the armor of their leadership. During these trying times, it was more important than ever to keep calm, to remain hidden and discreet under the streets of Lo
s Angeles. The Underground had been flourishing for barely over half a century—a speck of time in the history of the world—but what they had established was something worth protecting.
Sorin was not about to allow one wrinkle to ruin it all.
As he pulled open the heavy steel door that fortified the emporium, he was overcome by a veritable misted bacchanal. Sheer veils all but masked the silken beds decorating the marbled floors as incense and loud, primal music laced the air. On those beds, bare bodies, their skin glistening with sweat and exotic oils, twined together. Sorin passed one particular large, circular, pillow-strewn mattress, where a band of Groupies, silver-eyed, lithe, and gorgeous in their preternatural states, were entertaining three human Servants whom they had invited from Above for the night. With slow, predatory grace, they slid against each other, legs spreading, tongues licking, voices moaning. One Groupie, a petite brunette wearing nothing but a belly chain, was crawling toward a Servant from Above who worked as a Wilshire Boulevard
talent agent. She kissed her way up his shin, his thigh, his hip and stomach and chest, pausing at his neck. There she sucked at him, toying with him as he writhed beneath her, then—
Pure need clenched inside Sorin as she bit into the Servant, nursing at him while the others scented his blood and nipped at his exposed skin, drawing their own red.
Never enough, Sorin thought, continuing past the mammoth screens that showcased MTV and connected them to the world Above, past a landscaped waterfall pool, where one of their elite citizens lounged under the kisses of a Groupie.
A little blood is never enough.
Citizens greeted him with royal deference, turning from their crystal flutes filled with blood and bowing, touching their fingers to their foreheads as he walked by. It was not until he reached the fringes of the room, where dark met velvet, that he could melt into the shadows behind a heavy red drape. There, he traveled another tunnel until he reached a door that the eye would have to be trained to see. Pressing a stone panel, he entered his Master’s domain.
The Master.
As usual, he sat in the dark, in one of his black moods. Sorin’s vampire sight caught the red haze of the Master’s outline, the emptiness of his soul.
Night Rising Page 6
