Whiteout (Aurora Sky

by Nikki Jefford

  “Vampire names,” I said.

  Dante huffed. “The names of killers right at our fingertips, yet we’re supposed to hide out like escaped convicts. We should be going after these vamps, not curling up in front of the fire.”

  “Dante,” I said, my voice dropping in warning. “Don’t even think about it.”

  He lowered the phone. “Why not? The agency thinks they can send our enemies after us. Well, what if we killed them all first?” Dante’s eyes gleamed in the firelight. His lips lifted, revealing his teeth in an excited smile.

  My hand stilled over Tommy’s head. “I don’t think they’d care either way. They want us all dead. Doesn’t matter which of us goes first.”

  I could practically hear Melcher’s melodramatic voice inside my head. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

  I wasn’t going anywhere until I saw the pompous man-vamp fall from grace. He was a murderer, a hypocrite—the worst kind of evil. I might be more afraid of Jared, but I hated Melcher more.

  Dante shoved the phone back inside his pocket. “That’s true,” he said. “But taking out renegade vampires would be a whole lot easier than the head of the agency. There’s no getting to Melcher, not without help from up high. Honestly, I don’t even know if Sergeant Holmes could get to him.”

  The enormity of Dante’s words pressed on me. How were two young runaway vampire hunters supposed to take on the great and powerful Oz?

  “Maybe we should take out more vampires,” Dante said thoughtfully. “Prove our worth to the agency so they’ll take us back.”

  I looked at him quickly. I’d heard his voice, but I hadn’t seen his lips move. They were pressed together firmly now. He sat, stiff as a statue, staring into the flames.

  “Take us back,” I sputtered, finding my voice. “How can you say such a thing? These are the people who arranged my accident. Melcher killed Agent Crist. Jared killed the Morrels and who knows how many others? They turned us into vampires!”

  Tommy’s head lifted, followed by his body. He jumped off the couch and slunk into the shadows. Guess the big guy was sensitive to arguments. The furball wasn’t the only one riled up by my tone.

  Angry creases splintered across Dante’s face. “Which is why I think we should come at them from the inside. What good can we do from way out here?” Dante swept his arm in a wide arc over his head.

  “We can still attempt to get in touch with Noel and Sergeant Holmes,” I said. “At least give it a try before we go offering ourselves up to Melcher in surrender.”

  Dante shot to his feet. The firelight accentuated his sudden rage. “I would never surrender. It is a tactical move. One worth considering if you’re serious about going after Melcher and Jared.”

  The wood floor groaned beneath Dante’s rough steps through the lobby.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  The echo of footsteps was the immediate reply. I thought Dante would ignore me altogether, but before he exited the lobby, he said, “To see if Giselle has found anything useful inside the shed.”

  Tommy, noticing that Dante was headed for the front door, hurried to his side. They stepped out together, leaving me alone in front of the fire.

  Talk about hitting an all-time low. Dante would rather spend time with Giselle than me. The three of us made a terrible team. Giselle only wanted revenge. While Dante wanted an agency overhaul as much as I, it was more out of desire to continue doing what he did best. Killing vampires. His own kind.

  Then again, I had an ulterior motive too. I might not feel as gung-ho about tackling a corrupt government agency if it weren’t for Fane. Until we dealt with Melcher and Jared, it wasn’t safe to be together.

  Fane had once said that we needed to remove the ringleader. He was right, of course. The question was: how?

  7

  Battle Attire

  {Fane}

  The rumble and roar of passenger jets and FedEx carriers echoed overhead. It was a clear day. Sunny. Cold.

  Standing outside a fixed-base operator on the south end of the airport, I took long, measured drags off my cigarette, blowing clouds into the crisp air. Nicotine couldn’t harm me. Unfortunately, it didn’t provide a buzz either. I really should quit before my teeth turned yellow. I would as soon as I found Aurora. After that I’d chuck the smokes for good.

  I thought about Aurora 24/7, as the saying went, but never so much as when I was outside.

  Had she found shelter? Was she warm enough?

  Vampirism was still so new to her. Letting go of engrained human sensations such as hunger and cold were challenging with the mind incessantly playing tricks.

  In the distance, a jet landed. Could be the one I was waiting for. The time was about right.

  A woman named Mia had texted me the details of the flight from Venice to Anchorage. One of my cousins would arrive shortly after 11:00 a.m. in the family’s private Gulfstream G200. The luxury jet could go nonstop from one end of the continent to the other before needing to fuel up. Good thing too. The sooner reinforcements arrived, the better.

  Mia had identified herself as my cousin’s personal assistant, but failed to mention which particular cousin she worked for. My money was on Giovanni. He kept in touch regularly and had been the most involved in coming up with a diplomatic solution to the problem of the agency—more specifically, the vampire who called himself Melcher.

  As I finished my cigarette, a sleek midsize jet taxied up to the FBO. I walked alongside it as it pulled into an open hangar and came to a stop. The plane was a beauty. I had a sudden urge to take her up on a test flight. The same kind of excitement came over me whenever I came face to face with a new toy. Anything that moved fast was fair game, as was anything belonging to the family. What was theirs was mine and vice versa.

  The hatch door opened, not far from the ground. Stairs were conveniently built into the opposite side of the door, descending from the cabin.

  I waited on the tarmac, expecting Giovanni or Raffaele to emerge from the plane. Instead, a young man wearing a gaudy teal-and-gold waistcoat coat with matching pants stuck his head out of the cabin and straightened. Cousin Alfonso.

  A full row of white teeth appeared when he saw me. Alfonso’s face crinkled in mirth. He had the kind of two-hundred-twenty-volt smile that caused hearts to explode back home.

  “Francesco! Buongiorno!” He lifted his arm in the air, waving with his fingers.

  I lifted my hand and walked toward the plane as Alfonso descended. My cousin stood six feet tall with stylishly tousled dark brown hair. He could be a model if he wanted, though he had no need of the income or extra attention. Journalists loved snapping shots of Alfonso at all the top fashion shows and A-list parties he frequented across Europe.

  Out of all my family, he was the last person I expected to step a polished shoe into the Last Frontier.

  I reached the stairs as Alfonso stepped down. We grasped one another by the shoulders and kissed cheeks.

  “Buongiorno, Alfonso,” I said. Italian rolled off my tongue like a long-lost lullaby. “Did you lose a bet with Giovanni?” I teased in our native tongue.

  The laugh lines in Alfonso’s cheeks deepened. “Isabella caught Giovanni with her friend Leticia. Now he fears she will harm herself.”

  “And Raffaele?”

  “In amore, like you.” Alfonso winked. “Don’t worry. I volunteered. We will find your bella rosa, free your friend, and squash the tyrant who dares stand in the way of a Donado.”

  With the stairs now clear, a young woman in a pantsuit stepped out of the plane, followed by a short gentleman with a full head of white hair slicked back, and a middle-aged man with tan skin and only slightly darker hair.

  As they reached the tarmac, Alfonso made quick introductions.

  “Mia, my assistant and personal planner.” The young woman had stunning light brown eyes, accented by black liner and mascara. Her sleek brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. Her gaping blouse revealed a glimpse of a set of well-curved double Ds.
She had the whole sexy secretary look down—if secretaries could afford a three-thousand-dollar tailored suit. We kissed cheeks.

  “Artur, my tailor, and Benito, my pilot and driver,” Alfonso continued. “Come.” He clapped. “We have an appointment with the senator in two hours, but first I must refresh.”

  “The car is this way,” Mia said. Her shapely ass glided forward as she took the lead.

  I’d fixed the tires on the Pontiac following Valerie’s slash and dash, but I knew nothing in the world would convince my cousin Alfonso to set so much as a manicured toenail inside the old beater. It would have been the same with Giovanni and Raffaele. This generation of Donados was suave to the extreme. But they were family and that’s all that mattered.

  “We have missed you, Francesco,” Alfonso said, as though picking up on my nostalgia. “The family wishes you to return home.”

  “Once Aurora and Joss are safe, I will return to visit. Perhaps an extended stay this time.”

  The smile had not left Alfonso’s lips. “Then we must rescue your friends as soon as possible.”

  “Are you sure you are ready for this?” I asked.

  My cousin’s eyes glittered. He was more of a great-great-great-great-great-nephew, but once those nephews looked my age or older, we switched to calling each other “cousin.”

  “Cousin,” Alfonso said now, “you may recall that Alfonso comes from the German name Alphonse, which means ‘prepared for battle.’ The senator has accepted our money and now he must accept our terms. Così è la vita.”

  We followed Mia through a small terminal, out the double doors, to a Mercedes sedan parked and already running at the curbside. Alfonso’s driver, Benito, opened the back door.

  “After you, cousin,” Alfonso said.

  “Artur and I will follow with the luggage,” Mia said.

  Alfonso kissed her cheek. “Splendido,” he replied before dipping into the car after me.

  Alfonso might not be as diplomatic as Giovanni or as business savvy as Raffaele, but the man had a way with people, including politicians.

  The pinstriped suit Alfonso talked me into borrowing for our official visit with Senator John Davis felt surprisingly good. I looked like I meant business—the only way to look on such an officious occasion. With a few quick alterations, Artur had me fitted while Alfonso changed into a black suit that had been freshly pressed and laid out on the four-poster king bed inside his penthouse on the top floor of the Captain Cook Hotel. Alfonso and I were of a similar height and build. As weight conscious as my cousin was, I was still skinnier; an easy feat for a vampire who’d lost his taste for food long ago.

  When we showed up at the Alaska State Legislature Building, the senator did not keep us waiting. As soon as we announced ourselves, his middle-aged blond secretary showed us into a spacious office with dark wood furniture, a couple of framed landscapes, and a large potted plant in one corner.

  Senator John Davis stood up to greet us. The senator—in his mid-sixties, with receding gray hair, and extra padding around the waist—looked about as original as his name.

  “Thank you for coming all this way to see me,” he said, hand reaching forward to shake first mine, then Alfonso’s. “Please have a seat, gentlemen. Can Pam fetch you a drink before she goes? Scotch?”

  Alfonso and I settled into wide leather chairs in front of the senator’s desk. I waited until Davis had taken a seat before looking him directly in the eye and saying an ominous, “I’m not thirsty.”

  Senator Davis’ body gave a slight jerk. His eyes darted from me to Alfonso, and finally his secretary.

  Alfonso draped his arm over the seatback as he turned to the secretary. “I will have a Scotch,” he said with gusto, as though the mere suggestion filled him with delight.

  Davis’ elbows relaxed into his armrests. “Make that two, Pam.”

  Pam walked over to a liquor cabinet against the wall and filled two crystal glasses. She handed them to Davis and Alfonso.

  “Grazie,” my cousin said.

  Once Pam left and closed the door behind her, Davis folded his hands over his desk. “I would like to thank your family again for your generous campaign contribution last year and continued support.”

  Alfonso held his drink atop the leather armrest of his chair. “Sì. You have Francesco to thank for that. He has taken a fancy to this exceptionally large state of yours.”

  “Alaska is, indeed, a place without equal. I am delighted you share my love of this great land, Mr. Donado.”

  Davis studied me. I leveled a gaze back. He might be one of the most powerful men in Alaska, but his time was limited. His funds were limited. He was limited.

  My hands formed a steeple. My eyes locked on Davis’. “It is unfortunate my safety here has been compromised by a rogue agency within the United States military.”

  The word “rogue” had the desired effect of making Davis’ left eye twitch. Before he could respond, Alfonso took up the baton, tossing words into the air with rapid speed and flare.

  “We are most upset, Senator. Imagine our displeasure when we learned that the American government ordered assassins to keep watch over Francesco. Signor, he is irreplaceable, our Mona Lisa, our Last Supper, our Starry Night. He is our family’s legacy, our most priceless possession. If he were destroyed…” Alfonso’s lips split apart in a silent gasp. He placed a hand over his heart as though overcome by the mere mention of such a horror. Once he’d recovered, he concluded, “He is a living, breathing masterpiece.”

  The senator hunched over his desk. “Mr. Donado, let me assure you, I was aware of no such order, nor was anyone within this government. As I’m sure you can appreciate, demonic threats are a delicate affair. The agency’s operations must be kept top secret for the continued safety of humanity. That said, the agency does not have license to infringe on a law-abiding citizen’s privacy—a matter to which I have personally requested a cease and desist.”

  How elegant. One moment I was a demon, the next a law-abiding citizen.

  To my right, my cousin’s legs spread open. He leaned forward and rested an arm on his thigh. The laugh lines disappeared, replaced by the sharp angles of his dark brows and pinched lips as Davis spoke. Cousin Alfonso, when not smiling, looked ruthless. Especially in pinstripes.

  Never piss off an Italian.

  “We desire more than a request, Signor Davis,” Alfonso said. “We demand the immediate release of Josslyn Taylor, in addition to any agent forced to serve against his or her will.”

  Senator Davis leaned into his desk and opened his mouth to speak, but Alfonso beat him.

  “The men and women who serve in your armed forces do so voluntarily, do they not?”

  “Of course,” Davis said.

  “Does this agency not fall under the same authority as your military forces?”

  Davis cleared his throat. “Clearly there have been oversights.”

  “Which is why I, Alfonso Donado, volunteer my services reforming your underground taskforce in such a way that is both effective and just.”

  “As do I,” I said, staring into the senator’s expanding eyes. “I have great value, Senator, not only to my family, but to your efforts against unsavory vampires. The agency’s informants can’t even come close to the number of contacts I have in Alaska alone. The question is, are you open to negotiation?”

  Senator Davis licked his lips. “This is a generous offer. However, agency operations are not entirely up to me. I have, however, taken the liberty of discussing the situation with my chief of staff. Together we have appointed Lieutenant Vince Pearlman to act as a go-between for our office and Agent Melcher’s. Lieutenant Pearlman has agreed to escort you on base for a meeting with Agent Melcher, as well as oversee the release of Mr. Taylor.”

  Alfonso leaned forward and set his glass of Scotch on the edge of the senator’s desk. “I trust we will not end up in cells or as test subjects or unwilling agents for the United States government.”

  “Most certainly n
ot,” Senator Davis sputtered.

  The leather, stretched taut over the chair’s frame, groaned as I stood up. I sent Davis a chilling expression. “Good, because our family would not take kindly to a hostage situation. Nor would our country’s diplomats.”

  Senator Davis blinked several times before rising to his feet. My family name seemed to put more fear in him than the fact that I’d rather suck the blood from his veins than drink his Scotch.

  “On my honor, no harm will come to either of you,” he said.

  Men like Davis bandied around a word like “honor” as though it were a trading card.

  Not much had changed over the centuries. Honor came with a price. Without money or connections, a person was royally screwed.

  Luckily, I had both.

  8

  Detour

  {Aurora}

  The next morning, we woke up to heavy snowfall. If we didn’t head out soon, there would be no stealing snowmachines or getting supplies unless we walked out.

  As soon as Dante looked through one of the unobstructed windows, he rushed into action. His feet clomped over the floorboards at a quick tempo as he cleared the lobby. “We need to roll ASAP.”

  “I’m ready,” I said. That was one of the great things about granola. It was grab-and-go food. Munch it sitting down. Standing. In a moving truck. It was all the same.

  Giselle emerged from the west hall. She already had her backpack on.

  “Let’s go,” Dante said, charging toward the front doors.

  Even Tommy seemed to understand we needed to vamoose as he clipped along beside us. On the way out, Dante grabbed a baseball cap and pulled it over his head. We filed out, closed the door behind us, and headed straight for the truck.

  As soon as Dante opened the door and pulled the seat forward, Tommy jumped into the backseat.

  The short walk from the lodge to the truck had dusted us all in big wet flakes of snow that melted on impact.

  Dante started the truck, flicked on the windshield wipers, and put the vehicle into four-wheel drive. “Hold on,” he said as he floored the gas pedal.