by Devyn Quinn
A lie.
She knew that as surely as she knew her own name.
A jolt arrived as the realization penetrated her skull, from inside her own body. This time the chill going down Callie’s spine penetrated clear to the core. The blood drained from her head so quickly she was positive she’d faint.
Her guts curled into knots. There was a strange buzzing in her ears. Callie prayed for strength. And she prayed even harder she was mistaken about the suspicious conclusions suddenly gripping her like pit bulls that wouldn’t let go.
Praying didn’t change the facts and she knew it.
Callie had to step away, close her eyes, and try to erase the visions lingering in her mind. Having the truth dumped in her lap without warning was disturbing. She didn’t want to look at the mangled corpse anymore. Especially when the victims in question had been hunted—and slaughtered—by her own government.
Definitely trouble with a capital T.
18
Callie sat in the back of a crowded van, crammed between Paul Norton to her left and Roger Reinke to her right. Dressed in tactical combat gear and the vest, she hardly believed the day’s events had progressed to this point.
Hunting vampires.
Capturing, she mentally corrected herself.
Their orders were clear: Do not kill the subjects. That honor was reserved for people like Doctor Yuan and Professor Forque. Such decisions were made above her head. She had her orders. Personal feelings had no place beyond her duty.
They hit a bump. Shoulders jostled.
Paul Norton elbowed her. Hair neatly cut and beard shaved off, he no longer looked like the junkie he’d portrayed for months. “Fucking unreal, huh?”
Holding her gun in her lap, Callie glanced down. The legendary items of vampire hunting were different in the real world of the twenty-first century. Instead of stakes, crosses, and holy water, the agents were outfitted with guns, infrared goggles, and Geiger counters.
“Yeah, really wild.” Tension arced through her. Grip pressed against her palm, this new weapon felt strange in her hand. Better get used to it. She’d be using it a lot, if what Professor Forque said was anywhere near truth. From now on, she’d be part of the first response team. Where these things were found, she’d be sent. The pace in her career had just stepped up.
Callie drew a breath. I can do this. Maybe it was better she’d made the choice she had. The weaker emotions, the ones she’d struggled to keep in check, likely needed to be put in their place. Personal feelings would no longer be allowed to get in the way of doing her job. It wasn’t as if she didn’t understand or comprehend the threat such a species as the Niviane Idesha posed to humankind.
All she had to do was her job—like it or not.
She considered her weapon with detachment. Undesirable but necessary. “Who’d have thought we’d be shooting the fuckers with silver.”
About the size of a standard .38, the gun fired small dartlike ampoules primed with pure liquid silver. As explained by Doctor Yuan, colloidal silver inhibited the symbiont’s ability to draw oxygen when introduced into the system of the host. That in turn rendered its supernatural abilities useless.
The van screeched to a stop. Double doors opened, spilling a bunch of caffeine-wired, bleary-eyed federal agents out into the street.
Callie hurried out of the van. Her forehead was cold and clammy despite the warmth of the day. Sliding on a pair of sunglasses, she surveyed the area. As a lead agent, she’d be one of the first to go in. At this point she had the most experience in dealing with the things.
She glanced at Roger. His mouth was a thin tight line, his gaze flinty and merciless. He’d scarcely said ten words to her.
The efficiency of the bureau never failed to amaze her. It was awesome to see agents fan out and take their places, moving like clockwork and never missing a beat. Dark vans blocked off the street on both sides; police cars rerouted traffic away from the area. A literal wall of moving metal formed a ring around the target area. Nothing would be getting in. Nothing on two legs would be getting out, either.
When the FBI took control of an area, they took control of every last inch. Held at bay by extra police officers called in to assist in crowd control, the locals gawked like kids at a circus seeing pink elephants for the first time. Everyone wanted to see and know what the hell was going on.
Tight-faced feds were equally tightfisted with information. The word out on the street was that it was a drug raid. Given the area and accessibility of the building in question, that sounded plausible and logical. Dealers made a quick backtrack, hustling off to check their own supplies.
Callie glanced up and down the street, so familiar in a creepy sort of way. She’d pointed the way to this location, giving investigators their first solid leads into how the creatures managed to hide so efficiently and be virtually unseen. During daylight hours the Niviane Idesha needed to be out of the sun’s light, a thing fatal to their species. Abandoned and condemned buildings were more than perfect. They were everywhere.
The sun tilted lower, reminding everyone the time to get moving had arrived.
Callie checked her watch. Another hour before night descended. The raid had to be timed with perfect synchronicity, when the creatures would just be beginning to rouse from their state of daysleep, unfed and at their weakest.
Roger Reinke stepped up beside her. A cadre of special agents equipped and trained in handling the aliens joined them. Aside from Reinke and Norton, Callie knew none of them. They obviously knew Roger. All eyes turned toward him.
“I don’t have to remind you guys not to use excessive force unless necessary,” Reinke said, his tone allowing no discussion. These things move fast, but they’re sluggish this time of day, weak. Hit them with one, maybe two shots. Any more than that and we’ll be dragging bodies out of there.”
The men all nodded in agreement.
“We’ll take ’em down easy,” one agent smirked.
“They’ll never know what hit them,” another said.
“Good. Let’s do this right, then.” Roger Reinke glanced over at Callie. “You sure you can handle this?”
Drawing in a deep breath, Callie nodded once. If they knew how bad she shook inside, they’d send her packing. She felt hopelessly out of her depth. More than afraid, she was fucking terrified. “I’ve been in there, seen what these things can do,” she heard herself say flatly. She flicked the safety off her weapon. “Time for a little payback.”
The agents went inside, spreading out through the first-floor lobby. A couple carried Geiger counters, checking the readings.
“Well?” Reinke asked. “Any activity?”
“Through the fucking roof,” the agent answered. “There’s definitely been a concentration of heavy activity here.”
Roger considered the plan of action. “Spread out through the floors. Be careful of structural damage. If it looks like it isn’t safe, don’t go in. Force as many as you can into shifting. We want Drake, but we’ll take as many as we can round up.”
“Yes, sir.” Infrared goggles went on.
Reinke turned to Callie. “You want to lead the way to where Drake took you?”
Heart rate bumping up a beat, she nodded. “Third floor.”
“You know what to look for?” Reinke asked as they ascended the stairs.
Puffing slightly, Callie frowned. “I’ve seen them in action,” she reminded him. “They move like shadows.”
He tapped the infrared goggles perched on the top of his head. “You can see more of them through these.” He laughed a little. “Actually look like a big Frisbee.”
Midstep, she paused, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You’ve done this before, I take it.”
He shrugged. “A few times. When you see one, fire. The silver will force an almost immediate shift.”
She nodded. “This I have to see.”
Reinke flicked a glance at her. “I hope you do.”
“So, tell me. How did you even get in on th
is?”
Reinke scowled. “I wondered when you’d ask that,” he mumbled.
“Don’t lie,” she insisted point-blank.
Roger’s mouth quirked up. “About six months.”
She threw him a suspicious look. “The bureau broke us up, didn’t it?”
His mouth twisted bitterly. “Yes.”
Callie swallowed, sorted through myriad questions and came up with the answers on her own. Surprisingly the conclusions arrived with little anxiety. At least their abrupt parting made sense. “I see.”
Roger glanced away. “I had to make a choice and I chose my career. I didn’t want to, but I had to if I wanted to take the step up.”
She nodded. Who the hell wouldn’t? The bureau had to make sure that an agent working a top-level security position was solid and stable in all areas of his life. An affair, even with a fellow agent, wouldn’t be sanctioned. “Given the same ultimatum, I’d have probably done the same thing.”
He snorted in that old familiar way that she’d once found so endearing. “So I’m not an entire bastard?”
The muscles in her cheeks involuntarily bunched. A smile sneaked out. “Half a bastard then,” she conceded. “Somehow I have a feeling I’m here because some strings were pulled.”
Roger looked at her, his handsome face grave. “I wanted my best agents. Not many women could’ve walked into this the way you did and made it a success. I knew you would.”
Standing a few steps above him, Callie looked down. Her heart no longer slammed against the wall of her chest when she recalled their affair. Over. Not even in a painful way now, but definitely a conclusive one.
“Thanks, Agent Reinke.” All she needed to say.
“You’re welcome.” A pause as his mouth quirked up slightly. “Agent Whitten.”
With an unspoken agreement, they started walking again. They reached the third level. Where Callie remembered a door, a gaping space where a door had once stood ruled. Only the crappy faded carpet looked the same.
“He might not be here anymore.”
Reinke lowered his goggles. “We’ll see. There were three apartments on this floor. Lots of crevasses, places to hide. These things don’t need much space. I’ll check out the place over there. It’ll be dark soon. Better get a move on.”
“Okay.” Callie headed toward the one she knew.
Pushing the door open, she stepped gingerly over the threshold. She looked around, wincing a little at the devastation. Such a beautiful place. Now nothing more than a vague memory to be manipulated by an alien species.
Callie slipped on her goggles. Everything looked different, disorienting her until she got used to the change in her eyesight. Once her vision adjusted she saw everything fairly well. As she picked her way through the debris, her boots creaked with every step she took. She felt a chill creep into her bones and a long shiver ripped through her. The atmosphere around her was spooky, eerie even.
A swell of claustrophobia cut through her, a smothering shroud of foreboding, guilt, and regret. She felt a tightening in her chest, a strange emptiness in her mind. Suddenly she wanted to get out, get away from the place where her induction into things not of this world had taken place.
Callie quickened her pace. Her strides carried her swiftly through the first room and into the second. In a swift, half-conscious thought it occurred to her that he’d probably abandoned it. In fact, she hoped he had. Why would he risk staying?
For her? Of course not. Sleeping with a man three times didn’t mean she was in love with him, no matter how much she’d enjoyed the experience. As for the L word. Better to stay emotionally unattached. Less risk to the heart.
Not ready to take another blow yet.
“If he had any sense,” she muttered, “he got the hell out of here.” Callie laughed, but there was only self-condemnation inside the sound. The late-afternoon sun filtered through the remnants of bay windows, flooding a good portion of the multi-room apartment in sunlight.
A shot of movement in one dark corner near the sunken area where the Jacuzzi had been stopped her.
What the fuck?
She peered through her goggles, disbelieving her eyes.
A shape, blazing hot, darted across the floor. Zipping down one wall, it abruptly stopped, hovering.
“Shit!” Lifting her weapon, Callie rushed up, almost stumbling in the process. “I actually can see the fucker.”
The silhouette went into motion.
Adrenaline seared her veins. Sweat trickled down her temples. She ignored it. As long as it didn’t fog up her goggles she’d be fine. Her forefinger instinctively curled around the trigger, feeling but not pressing. For a few seconds her hands trembled.
Movement. A quick flash.
Callie’s whole being focused on the shape revealed by her goggles. A sense of familiarity filled her and she knew, just knew, the thing’s identity. Drawing a breath to steady her nerves, she tracked it. She had the target clearly in her sights.
Any minute now.
The thing zigged to her right.
The barrel of Callie’s gun expertly followed. Her attention stayed fixed on the shape, but she didn’t fire. Not yet. A twinge in her neck warned of trouble with her aim. She relaxed her muscles. Tense muscles made for jerky reactions. Her mouth was dust dry. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as if she’d just done a hundred yard dash.
Focus. Concentrate.
Callie swore and adjusted her stance. Adrenaline kicked in, giving her an extra and much-needed jolt of energy. No telling head from tail, ass from elbow. She’d just have to fire and hope she hit something.
Getting it in her sights, a smile curled up one corner of her mouth. “You didn’t run far enough, motherfucker.” She pulled the trigger. Instead of a loud bang, a soft puff filled the air as the dart released.
The dart struck its target.
Something hissed, scrambling back as if in pain. The shift from small shadow to a man-sized shape took place almost instantaneously.
Callie stood there, stunned. Mouth dropping open, she ripped off her goggles.
Iollan Drake’s tall frame loomed in front of her. Fangs bared in pain and anger, he looked like nothing belonging to planet Earth. His eyes glowed like phosphorescent coals, and a furious snarl poured over his lips.
Stunned disbelief coursed through her body all over again. Callie felt sick, dizzy. The silver had forced a shift, just as promised. Aside from that it didn’t seem to be slowing him down. He stood within half a dozen feet of her, his tall frame overwhelming her vision. The power he emitted swathed her.
The creature that had emerged from inside Iollan looked scary. And ready to fight. The low, feral growl of the angry beast emanated from his throat.
Sudden insight is like a flash of lightning. It comes and goes without warning. Six foot four of towering angry vampire didn’t match five foot ten of a trembling-in-her-boots woman. A woman about to get her ass kicked. An understatement.
She was shaking so hard that she nearly lost her grip on her weapon, and confusion swirled through her mind. Suddenly she wasn’t prepared for this moment. Icy fingers wrapped around her heart with incredible force. Her head reeled from the unexpected sight. Seeing him in his true form, she felt her spine vibrate with acute sensitivity. He’d filled his hands with her flesh, filled his mouth with her blood.
Oh, shit. Talk about waking the sleeping beast.
The dart had struck Iollan in the shoulder. Brushing it away like lint, he snarled softly. “It’ll take more than a little of your poison to put me down.”
Callie quelled the instinct to run. Run, and he would overtake her. Run, and he’d kill her. Every fiber in her body tightened like a wound spring. Nervous energy crackled in the air around her.
Fear tightening her chest, she hefted her gun back into firing position. “Don’t move. I don’t want to hurt you any more than necessary,” she said through the dry roar in her ears. She had no doubt he would rip her to pieces if given the chance.
Iollan Drake’s glowing gaze moved from the weapon in her hand to her face. Bittersweet recognition warred with the pain of betrayal. “I gave you your chance to walk away, Calista.” Low and rough, his words were guttural, menacing. “I see you repay my gift with betrayal.”
“You knew what I was when you made the decision to let me live,” Callie countered. Her voice was shaky but determined.
Jaw clenching, Drake’s eyes narrowed. His hands tensed into fists at his sides. “Wrong decision.”
“Tough shit,” Callie snarled. “You’ve been fucking with humans a long time. About time you got fucked back.” Finger poised above the trigger, she didn’t fire a second time. Shooting the man she’d made passionate love to—fanged or not—definitely wasn’t on her list of top ten things to do in her life.
Iollan’s gaze cut to the gathering darkness outside. He seemed nervous, a wildcat fighting the cage; he quivered, as if anticipating escape. “The only one who’s going to get fucked is you.” Without warning, he swooped forward. Suddenly he seemed to be everywhere. And then he struck with a clothesline blow, knocking her flat.
She landed on her back, the blow forcing the breath out of Callie’s lungs. A pile of arms and legs, she fought with every ounce of her strength to escape. Her sharp fingernails scored several deep scratches across his left cheek. Bigger and stronger, he quickly gained the upper hand. Ducking her flying hands, he wrestled her down. His body straddled hers. Fingers like iron bands pinned her wrists down.
Her adrenaline-driven frenzied human strength didn’t come close to matching his. “Goddamn you, let me go!”
Iollan’s strong jaw locked, stubborn and determined. “Be still and be quiet,” he hissed, panting from the effort of keeping her pinned.
Glaring up at him, Callie kicked and writhed. Her hands were locked in place. Damn, he’s strong.
His control over her body made her quiver, breath coming quick and shallow. Pressed beneath his weight, she easily recalled the times they’d made love. The warmth of his body pressing against hers felt so familiar. So right.
