Michelle’s eyebrows went up in surprise. Allison had never once spoken to her as one woman to another, or practically even as one human being to another. In fact, usually the little worm treated her like she was a servant, put on earth to do her bidding. Wondering just what was going on, Michelle nodded and got up from her chair near the door and walked over to sit on the edge of Allison’s bed, regarding her quizzically. “Sure, Allison. What is it you want to talk about?”
“Well,” Allison began nervously, “I need to know what you think about this Thantos guy and his plan to take over the United States.”
Michelle unconsciously glanced at the door, making sure no one was around to hear this heresy spoken by her young charge. “Uh . . . ummm, why exactly do you want to know this, Allison?” Michelle asked, her voice full of suspicion. “Did Theo ask you to see if I was loyal, or what?”
Allison leaned forward in her chair, “No, Michelle, I promise it’s nothing like that. I need to know, because . . . because I think you hate him and what he has planned as much as I do!” she blurted out.
Michelle leaned back, more in surprise than to distance herself from what Allison was saying. Allison could hear Michelle’s mind turning her words over and over, trying to determine if this was some sort of elaborate trap, if Allison was trying to make her admit her feelings against Thantos.
“What makes you think that?” Michelle started to ask, and then she nodded to herself. “Of course, you’ve been reading my thoughts.”
Allison blushed and nodded. “Yeah, but just a little, Michelle, and just this once,” she said.
Michelle’s face flushed with anger. “And just what do you think gives you the right . . .”
“I’ll tell you what gives me the right,” Allison almost yelled back, her face red and burning. “Not too long ago I was raped and transformed into some hairy beast because of that son of a bitch Thantos, and then I find out he’s trying to take over a country I happen to love! I think that gives me the right to do just about anything I can to stop the bastard!” she finished, her voice croaking with emotion and anger. “And if that’s not good enough for you, then go fuck yourself!”
Michelle opened her mouth to voice a retort, hesitated, and then she did the thing Allison least expected: she smiled.
Shaking her head, Michelle stuck out her hand. “Shake, partner,” she said, still grinning.
“You mean you do feel the same way?” Allison asked, happy that she’d been correct in her reading of Michelle’s thoughts and emotions.
Michelle nodded. “Yep, right down to the son of a bitch part you called Thantos.”
Allison reached out and took Michelle’s hand. “Good, ’cause now I’m going to do something very dangerous,” she said. “I’m going to open my mind and let you read everything in it, so long as you promise you won’t do anything until you’ve read every part.”
“Okay,” Michelle said, her voice serious as she took both of Allison’s hands in hers. She knew what an effort it took for Vampyres to voluntarily open their minds to another, especially one not their mate.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Michelle released Allison’s hands and leaned back against the headboard. “Whew, and I thought you were just a spoiled little rich shit who only thought about herself and her shitty little rich friends.”
Allison blushed as she said, “Well, I was wrong about you too, Michelle. I thought you were a power-hungry bitch who lived and breathed only work.”
Michelle shrugged. “That’s okay, kid. You weren’t far wrong, at least until this Vampyre thing happened to us.”
“Now,” Allison asked, “What are we going to do about this now that you and dad and I all want to stop that bastard Thantos?”
Michelle’s expression became thoughtful. “First of all, we’ve all got to be very, very careful. Thantos and his followers wouldn’t hesitate to kill us all to keep their plans secret, so we’ve got to go around with our minds locked down tight at all times so he doesn’t discover us.”
“I’ve already been doing that,” Allison answered. “In fact, I even try to avoid the son of a bitch whenever I can, just to make sure and stay out of range of his psychic abilities.”
Michelle’s eyebrows went up. “And just how do you know what his range is?”
Allison waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, he’s not so good at the psychic stuff, Michelle. Heck, I’m a lot stronger at it than he is.”
Michelle slowly nodded. “I wondered how you’ve been able to shut me out so easily.” She smiled. “At first, I thought it was just ’cause you didn’t have a thought in your empty little head.”
When Allison smiled back, Michelle continued, “But then I came to realize it wasn’t that, it was just that you were much better at this psychic thing than I was.” She tilted her head to the side, “But I didn’t realize you were stronger than some of the Vampyres who’ve been at it a lot longer than we have.”
Allison wagged her head. “Oh, that has nothing to do with it, Michelle. It’s not how long you’ve been psychic, it’s how psychic you were before you were transformed and . . .” she paused, thinking for a second, “and probably how strong the Vampyre is who transformed you.”
“If that’s true, you’re going to have to watch out for Sammy Akins, since he was the one who initiated you into this mess.”
Allison laughed. “Don’t worry about Sammy. He’s cute but he has a brain the size of a peanut. No, I think I got my psychic powers more from my mother. She was always seeing and knowing things before she should’ve been able to.”
“Good,” Michelle said, “then since you’re psychically much stronger than either your dad or I, you’re going to have to be our ‘point-man’ in our search for allies.”
Allison smiled and spread her arms out wide. “As I told my dad earlier, no problemo!”
Chapter 31
Allison and Michelle made careful plans for her luncheon date with Bitsy McCormack. They needed to find out if Bitsy was truly committed to Thantos’s scheme or if she was just going along to keep peace with her dad. They decided Allison was to distract Bitsy with lively gossip and girl-talk while Michelle surreptitiously tried to read Bitsy’s thoughts.
They planned it this way for even though Allison’s psychic ability was far superior to Michelle’s, there was no way Michelle could distract Bitsy as well as Allison could.
Michelle drove the car assigned to the agent to use while transporting her charge and stopped by Bitsy McCormack’s house so that Allison could go in and get her.
As she climbed out of the car, Allison began to have doubts about their elaborate plans. She just knew they weren’t going to work and that Bitsy’s father, General Black Jack McCormack, would see right through her deception. The man had always been friendly to Allison before this and had never threatened her, but nevertheless his aloof nature and stern manner had always frightened her whenever she’d come to visit Bitsy.
Now she could feel her heart pounding and fear-sweat forming under her arms at the thought of having to try and deceive him in his own house.
She walked up the sidewalk and looked back over her shoulder, just about to run back to Michelle and cancel the entire plan when the door opened before Allison had a chance to even ring the bell, and there stood Black Jack McCormack in the flesh. He stepped back from the door and motioned Allison in, a wide grin on his face.
Allison had followed Bitsy’s instructions and worn one of her peasant top blouses and a push-up bra that showed her small breasts off to their best advantage. Maybe Bitsy was right; maybe it would distract McCormack and keep his mind off of hers.
McCormack’s eyes moved down to her chest and he grinned even wider, holding his hands out wide. “Come on, Ally, and give your uncle Black Jack a big hug,” he said, his eyes remaining fixed on her breasts.
It was the first time he’d ever called her Ally in all of the times she’d been over to visit Bitsy. Allison clamped down hard on her thoughts so he would
n’t pick up on the revulsion she felt at his lecherous staring, and she moved into his arms.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him, and she could feel his erection even through her jeans as he ground his groin against hers. Jesus, she thought, what a scuzzball.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. McCormack,” she said, quickly moving back out of his grasp, but with a supreme effort, she kept her false smile glued on her face.
He immediately put his arm around her shoulders, letting his hand fall as if by accident to rest against the side of her right breast, which he slowly massaged with his thumb.
“Oh, call me Black Jack, dear,” he said in his oily voice as he led her into the house.
Allison was saved from further conversation by the appearance of Bitsy bounding down the stairs two at a time. “Hey, Ally,” she called, frowning a bit when she saw how her father was trying to feel her best friend up right in front of her.
“Hey, Bitsy,” Allison responded, shrugging out of McCormack’s grasp and running to hug her friend.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
“I’ll say,” Bitsy said, glaring at her father over Allison’s shoulder. “Bye, Dad,” Bitsy said, hurriedly moving Allison toward the door.
“Aren’t you girls going to give old Black Jack a kiss good-bye?” he asked, holding out his arms again.
“No time, Dad,” Bitsy said, shoving Allison ahead of her out the door. “We’re late meeting some friends at the mall.”
“Well, don’t be gone too long,” McCormack said, disappointed. He watched them run down the sidewalk for a moment, his dark eyes narrow, and then he turned and headed toward his study.
“Jesus, girlfriend,” Bitsy gushed as soon as they’d both flopped into the back seat of the car. “I feel like I’ve escaped from prison every time I get a chance to get away from the old man for a while.” As soon as she saw the front door close and McCormack could no longer see them, she began to take the barrettes out of her hair so it could fall down around her shoulders.
Allison nodded sympathetically. She too thought Bitsy’s father was a bit of a jerk. Imagine, getting a hard on from a glimpse of one of your daughter’s friend’s boobs—what an asshole!
* * *
When they got to the mall, they walked around for a while, Michelle staying discretely in the background, and flirted with various boys they knew from school. By the time they adjourned to the food court, all three of the women had healthy appetites.
Bitsy handed Michelle the sacks of clothes she’d bought, treating her like a servant. Michelle’s eyes flashed but she said nothing as she took the bags and put them next to her chair. She was sitting at a table next to Bitsy and Allison’s, in order to give the girls a little privacy.
While Allison and Bitsy scarfed down burgers and fries and joked and talked about the boys they’d seen, Michelle sipped a cup of hot tea and played with a chicken salad sandwich as she focused all of her energies on getting into and out of Bitsy’s mind without making her presence known.
It only took her a few minutes to find out what she needed to know since Bitsy wasn’t at all complicated—what you saw was pretty much what you got: Bitsy hated her father, both for the way he’d treated her mother and for the continued sexual abuse she was still enduring ever since she’d transformed him into a Vampyre. Evidently, the brief sexual episode during the transformation had whetted his appetite for even more of the same, and it was now almost a nightly ritual, more importantly, one that Bitsy detested.
Michelle also discovered that Bitsy wasn’t a bit political and that she had no strong feelings one way or the other about Theo Thantos’s plans of world domination. But, Michelle did think the girl would do just about anything to hurt or destroy her father, if she thought she could do it without getting caught—she was still deathly afraid of him.
When Michelle was sure of what she’d learned, she waited until the food court was almost deserted except for them and then she took her tea and joined the girls at their table.
“Hey, how about a little privacy?” Bitsy complained grumpily at Michelle’s arrival.
Allison just looked at her with upraised eyebrows.
Michelle nodded. “She’s okay. I think she’ll want to join us.”
Bitsy looked from one to the other, her eyes wide. “What’s she talking about, Ally? Join you in what?”
“Let’s get us another Coke and I’ll tell you, Bitsy,” Allison replied. “It’s a helluva plan.”
“Does this plan of yours have anything to do with my dad?” Bitsy asked, her eyes narrow and suspicious as they flicked from Michelle to Allison. Evidently she wasn’t quite as dumb and simple as Michelle had thought.
“Yeah,” Michelle answered.
“Will it piss him off?”
“Oh, yeah,” Allison answered.
Bitsy grinned. “Then I’m in, no matter what it is! The son of a bitch has whatever you’ve got planned coming to him, and I won’t mind a bit seeing that he gets it.”
Michelle got to her feet. “You fill her in, Allison. I’ll go get the Cokes.”
* * *
Gen. Blackmon Taylor, head of USAMRIID (U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Disease) at Fort Detrick, Maryland, where all of the U.S. germ warfare agents are stored and studied, was just sitting down to lunch at his home on the outskirts of Washington, D.C., when the phone rang.
“Damn,” he said irritably to his wife who was sitting across the table from him. He glanced at the calendar on the wall, even though he knew full well what day it was. “It’s Saturday, for Christ’s sake! Why the hell are they calling me instead of the Officer of the Day.”
“Maybe it’s not work related, dear,” his wife said amiably as she put a forkful of salad into her mouth.
“It’s always fucking work related,” Taylor said, getting to his feet and throwing his napkin down on the table. “Who else would be calling us? The fucking kids certainly never call anymore.”
“Mind your language, dear,” his wife admonished as she chewed her salad, her eyes as blank as a cow’s.
Taylor went into his study and snatched the phone off the hook. “This better be pretty goddamned important!” he growled into the receiver.
“Hey, Blacky,” Black Jack McCormack said evenly.
“Oh, sorry, Black Jack,” Taylor said, calming down a little bit. He and McCormack were old friends from their army days and often played golf together on weekends when the weather was good. “I thought it was those assholes from the fort calling to fuck up my day. It seems the only time they ever have emergencies is at night or on the weekends.”
McCormack chuckled. “Well, you’re safe this time, Blackmon; it’s just your old friend calling to see if you had anything on for today.”
Taylor glanced at his watch. “No, nothing, but it’s a little late for golf, Black Jack. We’ll never get a tee time this late in the day.”
“Uh, it’s not about golf, Blacky,” McCormack said. “If you and your wife are not too busy, I’d like to come by for a little chat.”
Taylor shrugged, wondering just what McCormack was up to. He wasn’t the sort of man to just drop by unless he had a damned good reason. “You know you’re always welcome here, Black Jack,” he answered, feeling a little uneasy. “Mind telling me what it’s about?”
McCormack chuckled again, low in his throat. “No, I’d rather it be a surprise.”
“Is it a good surprise or a bad surprise?” Taylor asked suspiciously, not able to think of a single thing the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff could want with him.
“Oh, I think you’ll really like what I have to show you, pal. It’s gonna change your whole life around.”
* * *
Brendan Fraser was sitting in a beach chair on famous Seven-mile Beach on Grand Cayman Island, working on his tan and sipping a tall fruity drink of some kind while he watched seminaked women half his age cavorting in the surf. As head of the National Security Council and
chief advisor and best friend of the president of the United States, he’d managed to come to the island without having to drag his wife along by telling her he was meeting with various heads of state of some unnamed Caribbean countries as a favor to the president.
Actually, the only person he was meeting was a nineteen-year-old intern from his Washington office who’d promised him if he paid her way here she’d make it well worth his while.
So far, she hadn’t disappointed him at all. In fact, he was still a bit sore from their frolicking the night before. When he thought of her, he unconsciously tugged at the front of his bathing suit, hoping the bruises she put on him down there wouldn’t be noticed by his wife when he got home.
The intern was still asleep in their hotel room, so he thought he’d use this time to scope out the other action on the beach, just in case he tired of the teenager and decided to send her home early.
“Jesus,” he muttered to himself, sitting up and pulling his sunglasses down a bit on his nose so he could get a better look at the dazzling beauty that was walking up the beach toward him.
She was tall and lanky, with dark, coal black hair hanging down almost to her hips, and she had a figure that was about a twelve on a scale of one to ten. He could tell her figure was good because she wasn’t hiding much of it—her bathing suit consisted of three Band-Aid size patches of white cloth.
She must have an allergy to the sun, he mused, noticing her skin was still very pale in spite of the clear sky and bright sun over the island. As she got closer to him, he saw that she was coated with a thick layer of sunscreen covering every inch of exposed skin, and there were a lot of inches to cover.
Just as she came abreast of his chair, she stumbled in the sand and spilled her drink. As she bent to pick it up, he was rewarded with a view of her magnificent dark nipples when her bathing suit top pulled away from her chest.
He immediately jumped to his feet and rushed to her side. “All you all right?” he asked, kneeling in the sand to pick up her empty plastic glass.
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