BLACKOUT: CROSSBREED SERIES BOOK 5

by Dannika Dark

  “Where on earth did you get that?” I managed to ask. “And why?”

  He tugged at the white collar. “Viktor’s idea. I already tried to talk him out of it.”

  Wyatt leaned around to get a good look before he belted out a laugh. “You look like the punch line to a joke.”

  “You would know,” Shepherd grumbled.

  I shook my head. “Do you have outfits like that just lying around?”

  After Wyatt wrapped up his laugh with a snort, he grabbed his slouchy beanie off the table and pulled it over his head. “We never throw things away. It’s left over from a costume party we had before you came on.”

  I looked between everyone. “Who the hell dressed as a priest? I usually see historical outfits at those fancy parties, not Halloween costumes.”

  Wyatt smiled handsomely. “Shep wanted to go fully armed. It was his first party.”

  Shepherd widened his stance. “Button it up.”

  Ignoring him, Wyatt continued. “He already looks like a marine gone rogue, so just imagine Shep in a priest outfit with bulges all around his waist.”

  I grinned at the mental image. “Then maybe Shepherd should be the one to stay at the church, not Christian.”

  Blue chortled. “Nobody would buy that.”

  Christian lifted his robe, revealing his black boots and bare legs. “And they’ll believe a Vampire is a man of the cloth? The robe was custom made for Shepherd. I say he wears it.”

  Shepherd flashed an unapologetic smirk. “Ain’t a chance in hell.”

  “Let’s not be dramatic,” Viktor cut in, defusing the situation. “We’ve already laid out the plan, and I need someone with good ears inside the church—someone powerful enough to thwart an attack. Besides, I’ve already tailored the robe to fit you perfectly. There’s no going back.”

  I tilted my chair back, balancing on the rear legs. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. What a shame I’d miss out on making jokes about Christian’s new look.

  Niko rose from his chair with an elfin smile. “I’ll drive.”

  I loved Niko’s subtle humor. He’d probably be a better driver than Wyatt.

  “Fine with me,” Wyatt said, giving me a playful wink. “I call shotgun.”

  “As long as I get dibs on the radio station.” I rose to my feet and scooted my chair in. “I’m not about to listen to Bread’s greatest hits for the next twelve hours.”

  Wyatt stood up, singing “Baby I’m-a Want You.”

  Everyone suddenly paused to look down at Patrick’s boy. He was sitting at Shepherd’s feet, tying the laces on one of his boots.

  It might be nice having a kid around to lighten the mood, and he seemed like a quiet little tyke.

  “Go to sleep,” Viktor ordered Claude and Shepherd with a snap of his fingers. “Go on. Wyatt, I need you to set up a new phone for Christian.”

  Wyatt flexed his fingers that had SOUL tattooed on them. “Again? You people lose phones like I lose sleep.”

  Gem frowned. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  Wyatt shrugged.

  “Give him whatever phone you have available before he leaves,” Viktor continued.

  “I also need you to track down my car,” Christian added. “I can give you the location where it was stolen.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “No can do. Not until the power comes back. My outlets don’t work, so keep all your phones charged in the car. Wyatt’s World is temporarily closed for business.”

  Shepherd cleared his throat. “If you three got any time to spare, swing by Patrick’s place and get this kid some gloves.”

  Viktor patted the boy’s head. “No need to worry. We have blankets, and we’ll keep the fires lit.”

  Niko circled the table. “I think Shepherd makes a good suggestion. The boy is in our care, and while we’ve grown accustomed to the temperature within the mansion, I’m certain Patrick keeps theirs at a warmer degree. The child should have something to cover his hands.”

  “Very well,” Viktor agreed. “Only stop there if you have time. Gem, you have small fingers—you can lend him a pair of mittens in the meantime.”

  “Sure,” she said, the sparkle in her eyes dulling.

  That was probably how I looked for a few weeks after my rescue. I had moments where my emotions switched on and off. While gregarious by nature, she needed more time to sort things out in her head.

  I neared Christian, my smile widening. “Come on, Vamp. You ready to save some souls?”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Won’t be the first time. I can’t count how many women have found God in my presence.”

  I smothered a laugh.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing. I just had a tickle in my throat. If you’re such an expert at saving souls, then you can start with mine.”

  Christian gave me a crooked smile. “You can’t save what’s already been sold.”

  “What’s the matter? Can’t perform miracles?”

  “Not unless you get on your knees.”

  “Don’t let the collar go to your head. They’re still not letting you through the pearly gates.”

  “Now, is that any way to speak to a man of the cloth?”

  “No, but the only thing holy about you is your sweater collection.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly but glinted with humor. “You have a tongue that could clip a hedge.”

  Christian and I were back on form. I could have kept going with the banter, but eyes were lingering on us just a little too long, so I turned to Viktor.

  “I’m going to grab some weapons before we drop off a Vampire dressed up as a priest at the church. I hope we have a benevolent God. If not, I’ll pick up a few handbaskets on the way home for our trip to hell.”

  Viktor pinched his chin, his brow furrowing. “You better take a lightning rod, just in case.”

  Chapter 13

  “Viktor’s a funny guy.” I jolted when the van hit another hard bump.

  Wyatt slowed down at the intersection and tossed his aviator sunglasses on the dash. “He must be if he put Christian in a priest outfit.”

  “Maybe it’ll do him some good.”

  We had already dropped Christian off at the church. The building had tall ceilings and decorative windows with elaborate paintings. The priest was a trusted human in the Breed world, which I found hilarious. Weren’t immortals the epitome of evil in the eyes of the church? They’d spent centuries trying to eradicate our kind. Perhaps now they thought it was better to work with us than against. Or maybe they thought they could save our wicked souls.

  Even with the heater blasting in the van, I shivered. The temperature had been dropping steadily, and a light mist coated the windshield.

  I looked over my shoulder at Niko, who was sitting on the bench behind Wyatt. “You look cute in those.”

  Despite his golden-brown complexion, his cheeks reddened. We all had on dark-blue coveralls with a logo on the back that matched the decal on both sides of the van. Since they were thick and warm, I didn’t need to wear a jacket. They were also customized for undercover work, so we had special pockets with easy access to our weapons. I had a few push daggers on me that were easy to grip and use in tight spaces.

  I checked the double knotting on my shoelaces to make sure they were tied. “Shepherd was acting weird this morning.”

  “Yeah. Not his usual dickish self,” Wyatt agreed. “And all that fuss over the kid needing gloves. It’s not like we live in an igloo.”

  Niko chimed in. “Igloos are warm. Patrick left him in such a hurry that he didn’t think about basic necessities, only his safety. It would be neglectful if we didn’t go above and beyond what Patrick expects from us. After all, our charge is just a frightened little boy.”

  I adjusted my fingerless gloves. “We can swing by Patrick’s later. Hopefully, nobody on our list gives us any trouble.”

  “I brought rope,” Wyatt said, his smile widening.

  “Great. Let’s hog-tie the most powerf
ul politicians in the city. That’ll go over well.”

  “Hey, Viktor said whatever means necessary to get them to the church alive. You think I want to mess with a Mage zapping me unconscious or rendering me incapable of fathering children? I say we tie them all up… just in case.”

  Our van passed by a juicer stealing light from another man in broad daylight.

  I swallowed hard, my nerves taking over. “What’s the plan if someone fights? Stab and bag?”

  Niko scooted to the end of the bench behind Wyatt’s seat and joined in the conversation. “The officials weren’t alerted that an evacuation order was in place, so they will likely answer the door. Those who don’t wish to cooperate might simply slam the door in our face, but that will be at their own peril.”

  “What if we skip them?” I suggested. “We could waste a lot of time on problem children when those precious minutes could be spent hauling the cooperative folks back to the church.”

  Wyatt slowed the van to a stop. “I like that idea.” Instead of a slouchy beanie, he wore a tight blue one to match our outfits. His wavy brown hair poked out of the edges and covered his nape. “We’ll do the math to see how many out of our twenty-five resist. Since they’re spread out all across town, I drew up a route based on their locations. The map is in the glove compartment. We can highlight anyone we skip and pass it off to the second shift.”

  I cut him a sharp glare. “That doesn’t seem fair. If we have trouble with almost everyone, Viktor will send all of us out on the second shift. We need to rethink this. Twenty-five isn’t as bad as over a hundred, but we still have to haul ass in case another group runs behind and needs help.”

  Wyatt cut off the engine and huffed. While he mumbled to himself, I stared out my window at the brownstone and scanned the mostly empty street. Neighbors knew they were living next to a member of the higher authority, so we had to play this cool.

  Niko rubbed his chin. “Let’s stick with the original plan and make every effort to convince our targets to comply. If someone takes up too much of our time, we’ll leave and come back to them. But something tells me we won’t have trouble transporting them back to the church. An uncooperative party might calm down when placed in the van with his peers.”

  I unbuckled my seat belt. “Or cause a mutiny. What if they convince everyone else to bail?”

  “That’s why I brought rope,” Wyatt said, messing with his front zipper.

  I opened my door, the cold air sneaking into the van. “Enough with the rope. We don’t need rope. This isn’t a rodeo.”

  “Would you rather go directly to plan B?”

  “Which is?”

  “The machete.”

  We both got out while Niko opened the back doors. Instead of going under the guise of a dry-cleaning service, we’d gone with a storage facility. Immortals were moving shit all the time, and a storage company didn’t need power to stay in operation. The downside was we couldn’t walk the officials out to the van. Someone might see. People need their leaders. It gives them a sense of security that everything’s all right, even if it’s not.

  Wyatt jogged up the steps and rang the bell. When I reached his side, I knocked on the door, reminding him that doorbells probably didn’t work if the power was out. Not unless they had those old-fashioned bells rigged up in the foyer.

  I leaned back and looked up to the third story. “Nice town house. I bet they cost a fortune.”

  “Two million in this neighborhood.” Wyatt looked nervously over his shoulder at Niko, who was hanging out by the back of the van. He had on a pair of aviator sunglasses and behaved like a bored worker taking a break.

  The second time I rapped my knuckles on the door, the locks turned.

  When the door opened, a bearded man in a black robe answered. I stared down at his hairy toes and back up to his bald head.

  Wyatt thrust our business card in his hand before he could say a word. The card had a special message printed on it so we didn’t have to explain ourselves out loud in case Vampires might be nearby.

  Wyatt switched on his Southern accent. “Mornin’, Mr. Favreau. We’re here to collect.”

  The man flipped the card over and stepped back. “Come inside.” He had an accent that I couldn’t place after only hearing two words.

  As soon as the door closed, I stepped through a cloud of aftershave and looked around. “Are you alone?”

  “Oui. And you are?”

  “Your taxi service.”

  He pinched his fat bottom lip, looking between us. “And we go where?”

  Wyatt put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to say.”

  “You might want to put on some clothes,” I suggested, steering my eyes away from the opening in his robe, which revealed a thick bed of chest hair. “Don’t make any phone calls. No one can know what’s happening or who we’re affiliated with.”

  He curled the end of his mustache with his finger. “And exactly who are you affiliated with?”

  “The card is proof of identification. We’re not here to explain things. That comes later. We’re on a tight schedule, so why don’t you grab some clothes and let’s get a move on.”

  Mr. Favreau inclined his head before turning around and heading up the stairs.

  “Tick-tock!” Wyatt yelled. He grabbed a vase from a pedestal and tossed it back and forth between his hands. “That was easy.”

  “Someone needs to acquaint that man with a razor.”

  “That’s too much manscaping. He’d have to hire a team of professionals.”

  I walked across the marble floor and studied the paintings on the wall in the quaint foyer that spilled into the living room. Just beyond that was another doorway that probably led to the kitchen.

  “Do you see why they need protection?” Wyatt’s boot heels clacked against the hard floor. “Here we are, in the middle of a blackout, and that nimrod opens the door for just anyone. Doesn’t ask who’s there, doesn’t even peek out a window.”

  “I’m beginning to hate this idea.”

  Wyatt kept tossing the oriental vase between his hands. “Why’s that?”

  “First of all, that crate takes up a ton of room in the van. Secondly, we were anticipating average-size people. That lumberjack isn’t going to fit in it.”

  “Everyone fits. It’s the same size as an eternity box.”

  “A what?”

  Wyatt set the vase down on the pedestal and crossed his hands over his chest like a dead person. “One size fits—”

  The vase toppled over and crashed on the floor. Shards of ancient pottery scattered all over the place.

  “Real smooth. That vase is coming out of our paycheck.”

  Wyatt swung his eyes up. “What vase? I didn’t see a vase.”

  “Back to what I was saying, the crate is a decent size for most, but he’s tall.”

  “We’ve got the dolly. If we can’t get the lid on, he’ll just have to bend his knees, and we’ll wrap it with cellophane.”

  “Why not put him in a giant duffel bag?”

  Wyatt licked his finger and rubbed at a smudge on the wall, making it even worse. “It’s easier to handle an object when it’s stiff than when it’s limp.”

  “Well then, I hope you did all your push-ups this week, because we’re going to be hauling that damn crate down who knows how many stairs and lifting it into the van.”

  “Would you rather we put him inside a piano?”

  I put my hands on my hips and paced in a circle. “I think I’ve got a better idea. Do you have an extra hat lying around in the van?”

  “No, but there’s an old ski mask in the glove box. It covers up the entire face except for a rectangular hole over the eyes. Shepherd’s worn it on a few of our missions to creep me out.”

  I bit my lip. Could this work? “What if we dress him up in a pair of coveralls? We’ve got extra pairs in the van for the second shift, all different sizes.”

  Wyatt cocked his head to
the side, his eyes brightening. “You’re a genius, Einstein!”

  “Anything I can do to get out of heavy lifting. Why make it harder than it needs to be? Neighbors might poke their head out for a minute or two to see what’s going on, but if we keep moving in and out, they’ll lose track of how many workers we have. We’ll load a few chairs or a painting in the van—something he doesn’t care about—and then dump it before our next pickup. Let’s try that and see how it goes. The full-head mask is a better idea, because it’ll hide his beard.”

  “It’s cold enough for it. We’re supposed to fall below freezing by noon.”

  “Run outside and stuff Claude’s coveralls and the mask in the crate. We’ll have Favreau change, carry something out to the van, and climb in the back. Then you and I will carry the empty crate back.”

  Wyatt kicked a shard of pottery against the wall and scratched his neck. “I hope that ugly thing wasn’t worth millions.”

  “We’ll soon find out.”

  After he dashed out the door, I collected all the broken pieces I could find. Mr. Favreau was a Mage who was at least a hundred years old, so everything in his house was probably antique and worth a lot of money. I hurried toward the back, passing through a deep-blue room with baroque chairs, more vases, a caddy for alcohol, and large paintings of naked women.

  When I entered the kitchen, I dumped the broken pottery into a trash can. To further hide our expensive mistake, I wadded up a few paper towels and put them on top. Maybe after our shift, I’d come back and tidy up. The idea of a million dollars coming out of our paychecks made me sick. Viktor would kill us.

  I lifted my head and gazed through the window over the sink at the patio garden. “Must be nice,” I said, admiring the wooden fence that enclosed the property. None of the plants were alive, thanks to the winter, but I could only imagine its splendor during the summer. Not everyone in the city had their own yard, and this one had all the privacy a man could afford. Not to mention a hot tub.

  I blinked in surprise when two legs dangled in front of the window.