“That’s a thing?” Torres lifted her eyebrows.
“It’s a big thing.” Veronica gestured toward the crowd. “Look at them.”
Veronica was right. Cell phones flashed as people either snapped pictures or simply held them up in tribute. Most folks were dancing, and many of them sang along with the lead. Rose had to admit, the man could belt out a tune.
“That guy one of us?” she asked.
Veronica shook her head. “I don’t think so. Then again, he could be and just doesn’t know it. You know how that goes.”
“What’s the band called?” Folsom asked, his gaze on the crowd, his expression calculating.
“Cypress Spring.”
“I might have to use them on my reelection tour.”
Prevailing wisdom preached against using live bands at campaign rallies. Audiences tended to get disappointed when politicians showed up to speak about tax plans when all the crowd wanted was more music. That logic held true for human rallies, but succubi could rely on charm to keep the crowd’s interest high. Rose could feel that charm brimming over the stage from the dozens of plants she and Folsom employed for that purpose. She let it wash over her, sparking her own enthusiasm like a glass of potent wine. It brought a smile to her face and warmed her inside like good food and wholesome happiness.
Cypress Spring wound to a close, and the crowd roared. Matt, MC for the night, strode onto the stage from the opposite wing, cheering them as they exited. He looked sexy, dressed in a casual sport coat, no tie, his blond hair stylishly disheveled. Rose held a sneaking suspicion he had quietly changed up his wardrobe after their induction into the Consortium. Chibueze probably influenced that decision.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out to rally for Gloria Torres tonight.” Matt’s words carried across the greenway boosted by powerful speakers, inciting another cheer from those gathered. “Together, we’re taking her message to Washington. No more corrupt career politicians in office, term limits for Congress, and sensible economic plans to get America back to work!”
That brought another cheer, and Folsom grinned. “He’s not half bad. Matt ever think of running?”
Rose shook her head. “Not with his father’s legacy hanging over his head.”
“Oh,” Folsom grimaced at his faux pas. “Sometimes I forget he’s Kraft’s son.”
“It’s my honor and privilege to introduce one of Ms. Torres’s most influential backers and one of America’s true patriots, Senator Chuck Folsom.”
“Wish me luck.” Folsom tipped a nonexistent hat to the ladies and marched onto the stage like a general going to address his soldiers. He shook Matt’s hand, and the two of them exchanged words drowned out by the roaring crowd, before taking his place at the podium.
“How’d I do?” Matt asked the instant he joined Rose. He always struck her as cool, calm, and in charge. Seeing him nervous tugged at her heartstrings.
“Spectacular.” She gave him a quick kiss.
“You were perfect,” Torres said.
“Thanks.”
Something in Matt’s tone, the way he held himself, set off alarm bells in Rose’s head. This went beyond mere nerves from addressing a crowd. He caught her staring at him sidelong and shook his head minutely, and she turned her attention back to Folsom. Whatever weighed on Matt’s mind, he didn’t want to say in front of Torres. That, more than anything, put Rose on her guard. They rarely kept secrets from Torres since she would, hopefully, be the one representing the Order in Society by next year.
Neither Veronica nor Torres noticed Matt’s odd behavior. They were too busy listening to Folsom, who had launched into a towering speech about America’s slipping greatness and how citizens might stem the tide. His words, combined with charm from every succubus in the area, roused the people to a controlled frenzy that saw them cheering uproariously between his every statement.
“Damn, he’s good.”
“And he’s here for you, girl.” Rose hugged Torres, careful not to smear her makeup or muss her perfectly coiffed hair as Folsom led up to introduce her.
Torres stiffened when Folsom called her name but plastered on a smile and walked toward the podium with confidence. Folsom shook her hand and exited the opposite direction. He had a flight to catch back to Washington.
“This thing has to go right.” Matt slid his arm around Rose’s waist, his gaze on Torres, who had begun her speech. “We need her to win.”
“Have you heard something I haven’t?” Rose kept her voice low so Veronica wouldn’t overhear.
Matt nodded, his face grim. He glanced at Veronica before turning back to Rose. “Let’s get some air.”
He led Rose down the back steps to a narrow alleyway created by the stage’s two-story backdrop on one side and Torres’s prep trailer on the other. He handed her a Bluetooth earphone and called up a video on his cell. “I got this about twenty minutes ago.”
The screen showed a close-up image of Jason Kraft, his brows drawn down, his lips pursed into a frown. His usually tame hair stood up in a rooster tail on the back of his head as if he had moments before been asleep.
Rose tapped the play icon.
“Matthew,” Kraft said, his voice grave. “I know you don’t want to hear from me. That’s fine. But I think you should know what your pet vampire has been up to. She executed one of Alice McAleese’s top lieutenants, an incubus named Barney Dolan, in the middle of Manhattan about an hour ago, and she wasn’t quiet about it. She used seven of her full-blood daughters and an untold number of wights for the job. They didn’t even try to conceal themselves. Footage of the entire fight is already on the internet. You know the state of Society right now. Whoever should have been policing for leaks missed this one completely. A couple of local news agencies even got in on the action, and their reporting is getting picked up by the international press. I had my assistant place a link at the end of this message. I suggest you watch it.”
With trepidation, Rose tapped the new link, which switched the screen to a video in progress.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said a voice-over as the video cued up. “What you’re about to see is actual footage of a fight captured this evening near Radio City Music Hall. Nothing in this video has been digitally enhanced or altered. It was inadvertently captured by a drone pilot filming aerial shots of the city and delivered directly to our producer.”
The digital recording showed a nighttime street, heavy traffic moving slowly along three lanes. At first, nothing happened, but then a figure, running faster than humanly possible, shot from the bottom of the screen along a sidewalk, dodging between people like a flitting shadow. Two more shadows trailed the first, traversing the screen so fast the camera momentarily lost all three. It reoriented in time to catch the first shadow slide to a stop in front of a brightly lit store with a green awning. As the shadow slowed, it resolved into a man, his features indistinct from this vantage, who clotheslined the next shadow, a woman dressed in a black running suit.
The perspective switched to a street view obviously captured on a witness’s phone. It picked up where the last had left off, the woman in black hurtling backward. Bystanders screamed and scurried in every direction as the third blur entered the frame. It too resolved into the shape of a woman, this one likewise dressed in black. Rose immediately recognized Tamika even from behind. The curvaceous vampire ducked under her flying sister to tackle the man at the knees. She sank her fangs into his thigh as he fell, blood gushing from the wound to paint the sidewalk.
A different man appeared at the top of the screen before Tamika and her victim had stopped sliding along the sidewalk. Rose recognized him as well—Alice’s lad with the star-shaped scar, the one she called Figgin. Moving with preternatural speed, he kicked Tamika squarely in the head, flinging her away from his fallen comrade. His victory was short-lived, however, because a swarm of wights scrambled into view with Piper at the fore. The bleached white killers surged toward Figgin, howling inhuman screams. He just had time to throw the fallen
man over one shoulder and run, though Rose doubted he made it far. Even Tamika, her lips bloody, managed to gain her feet and rejoin the chase in less than two seconds.
There was more footage, but Rose switched it off. She had seen enough. “I guess since we couldn’t kill Alice, Piper decided to go after her people.”
“And to hell with informing us about it.” Matt slid his arms around Rose. His embrace reminded her of what stability felt like.
“She can’t lie about this one.” Rose pressed her cheek into the hollow of Matt’s shoulder. “Unless she wants us to believe someone in Society doctored the footage.”
“I doubt she’ll lie about it. She’ll be proud. Oh, that reminds me. My dad sent a follow-up message.” Matt opened the screen again.
Kraft’s dour face reappeared. “You probably wonder if your supposed ally has gone insane, letting the world see her like that. I wondered that myself until Rubio suggested something I hadn’t considered. Piper is far too clever to pull a stunt like this without reason, and anger alone wouldn't have been enough to motivate her. Even with Society weakened, she knows they’ll come after her for this. But if her ploy works, they won’t be able to touch her. She’s already becoming something of a folk hero for vampires all across the States. They view her as a rebel against succubus tyranny. What she did tonight, not just killing Alice’s man, but letting herself get filmed doing it, will cement her status in their minds. She already has less powerful vampires flocking to her banner, wanting to join her coven kingdom. After tonight, some of the old guard might well do the same. She spit in Alice McAleese’s eye, a woman who scares most of the elites in Society. The vampires will love that.
“Matthew, it’s time you and Rose joined us. I know you’re smart enough to see what’s happening here. Piper’s building an army, one to rival us in every capacity. Rubio hates that idea every bit as much as I do. We’re determined to stop her, and we’d like the Order to help.”
“He’s right, you know,” Rose said, handing Matt his phone. “She wouldn’t have taken on Alice again without using us. We barely escaped last time. She’s up to something.”
“We don’t know that,” Matt said. “Piper didn’t take on Alice, she took on one of her people, and she won. Maybe she did it for us, for the treaty, and maybe she did it for other reasons. We can’t know for sure until we speak with her.”
“Are you forgetting about Barbara?” Rose pulled back from him, shaking her head.
“No, but again, we have no proof Piper killed her, only conjecture. She denied it, and my discernment said she wasn’t lying, so did yours, for that matter. I don’t want to trash our agreement until we know for sure what she’s doing and why.”
“She’s continually breaking our deal, that’s what she’s doing.” Rose folded her arms. “And how are we going to talk when she won’t answer our calls?” Despite Piper’s promises to remain in touch with Rose and Matt, they hadn’t spoken in nearly a month, not since their disastrous attack on Alice.
Matt shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m as frustrated as you. I’ll admit, ignoring our messages is a dick move on her part.”
Rose started to answer when her own phone rang. She switched on the video conference feature and smiled when she saw Olivia. “What’s up, chica?”
Olivia grimaced, showing flat human teeth. “We’ve got a problem. I think you and Matt should come to the concessions stand.”
“What problem?”
Olivia panned her phone to reveal three people standing behind her: her sister Grace, her only brother, Preston, and Valerie Satterfield.
17
Sight Unseen
Rose and Matt were forced to circle around the crowd. Even on the fringes, the press of people slowed their progress. The pall of charm hanging in the air kept the onlookers enthralled, but it also turned them into a wall of nodding, cheering obstacles when all Rose wanted was a clear path to the concessions stand. She resisted the urge to draw strength and barrel through them like a mini-bulldozer, but only by dint of utmost self-control.
“Rose.” Matt took her hand and squeezed.
“What?” But she knew his meaning before the question left her mouth. It had been months since she first drew courage from her votaries during the battle for the fear factory. Doing so had filled her with power, more than regular drawing ever could, but it had likewise robbed her of emotion. As the draw increased, her caring for the world around her fell away at an equal rate. Since then, whenever strong emotions threatened to overwhelm her, she had the tendency to draw courage, or as the elites referred to it, draw fear. She never did it on purpose. It was like a bad habit she found herself returning to without conscious thought, a comfort that gave her power and dulled her worries.
She hated it.
“You’re right,” Rose said, squeezing back as they hiked through a copse of trees on the eastern side of the park. “Sorry.”
“You have every right to be worried,” Matt said. “I certainly am. Just don’t let it overwhelm you.”
At the outset of their treaty with Piper, Rose and Matt—mostly Matt—agreed to a hostage exchange. Olivia came to live with them while Satterfield took residence with Piper and her children. Satterfield’s presence here without Piper could mean only one thing: Satterfield had fled. Based on the written agreement they all signed, that act alone nullified the treaty. Satterfield knew that. Rose could think of no one more conscientious or loyal than Valerie Satterfield except perhaps their deceased commander, Gunny Lipe. She would never endanger the Order without a damned good reason. That was what worried Rose the most.
They found Satterfield and the vampires huddled together near the main concessions stand apart from the few humans buying beer and funnel cakes.
“Rose!” Grace wrapped her in a tight hug. “We’ve got a lot to tell you.”
“Not here,” Olivia said, pulling at her little sister’s shoulder to separate them.
Grace gave Olivia a withering glance. “Of course, not here. I’m not stupid, Liv.”
Satterfield, her expression worried, gave Rose a tentative hug and drew back to meet her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I had to come.”
“We know that.” Rose pulled her friend into a second embrace. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk. We’ve got a hotel.”
Satterfield shook her head against Rose’s shoulder. “Better not. She’s been keeping tabs on you. Both of you.”
Rose stiffened. “Seriously?”
“It’s true.” Preston, the only man Piper had ever successfully converted from human to vampire, moved to stand beside Satterfield and took her hand, an exchange that didn’t pass Rose’s notice. “She’s got humans trailing you. Seven of them we know about, possibly more.”
“Like private detectives?” Matt surreptitiously scanned the crowd.
“Yeah,” Preston drawled. “The sort the Church of Scientology hires.”
“Are they watching now?” Rose asked.
“I’m sure some are.” Preston threw a questioning look at Satterfield, and she nodded. “We found a few skulking around here. I bit two. They’ll be too sleepy to cause any harm for the next day and a half.”
“And I charmed three more into heading back to their hotels for the night,” Satterfield said. “It won’t last, of course, but we’ll be gone before they come back. Come with us. We’ve rented a van; we can talk there.”
Rose turned to the stage where Torres had replaced Folsom. The would-be senator’s voice rang clear across the park’s greenway, echoing off nearby buildings. “Is she safe? Maybe we should stay until the event is over.”
“Tanner and Myra will see to her,” Matt said. “I think we should go. The sooner we know what’s happened, the better.”
Reluctantly, Rose nodded. They followed the others along a brick walkway out of the park and crossed the nearest street to a Waffle House where Preston had parked their van. They climbed in without speaking. Preston took the wheel and they headed for Atlanta’s main perimeter highway, I-285
. No one spoke until he had merged into the nighttime traffic.
“Mama killed Barbara Griffith,” Grace said in a flat tone that nonetheless carried a hint of buried emotion. “Did you know that?”
Matt winced and shook his head.
“We suspected,” Rose said. “But she denied it, and we wanted to believe her.”
“I knew it the second she lied about it,” Olivia countered.
“You saw it happen?” Matt twisted around to focus on Grace, who rested her head on Olivia’s shoulder.
The young vampire nodded. “I was there. Mama broke into Griffith’s house. There were ten of us in all. We out-charmed her guards and—” Grace broke off.
“She ordered us to kill them.” Preston finished for her. “They were all succubi. We got the jump on them.”
“Were you there, Val?” Rose asked.
Satterfield shook her head. “I didn’t know any of this until two days ago. Piper kept me in the dark.”
“Mother swore us to secrecy.” Preston shook his head as he spoke, his voice bitter. “You don’t know what it’s like when your sire gives you an order. It’s not charm exactly, but there’s this compulsion behind her every word. I don’t know how to explain it better than that.”
“Even if you don’t agree, you do what they say,” Grace said. “Otherwise, you feel sick, depressed. You can’t think for wanting to confess.”
“We call it a poisoned tie,” Olivia said.
“You’re feeling that now?” Rose looked in wonder at Preston and Grace. They had countermanded their instincts to come here. Every moment must have been torture.
“It comes in waves,” Preston said. “I think it’s worse whenever we’re in Mother’s thoughts. We’re tied to her by blood, same as we’re tied to our votaries. Valerie tells me your kind sometimes feel things your votaries feel?”
“Spillover,” Matt confirmed. “It’s rare for us. Only people with huge votary counts get it.”
“Like me,” Rose said. With fans of the Drawn graphic novel spanning the globe, the number of people Rose could draw from was immense. That meant she enjoyed an incredible depth and breadth when it came to borrowing traits, but it also made her vulnerable to the emotional bonds forged between her and her votaries. Usually, that counted for little besides engendering feelings of happiness and heroism in her. The fans thought of her as a superhero, and those warm emotions made her want to become one. Once in a great while, however, such as during a hurricane, earthquake, or other natural disaster, enough of her votaries became fearful, angry, or nervous to affect Rose. When that happened, her borrowed anxiety became a liability. Spillover made the fear draw at once particularly nasty and alluring since the fear she engendered worked like a feedback loop. The more she drew courage away from her votaries, the more fearful they became and, thus, the more susceptible to that draw, all with the added bonus that Rose couldn’t feel the growing fear, only the courage.
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