“That’s not our problem.” Dom pressed a couple of keys and the screen flashed to black. With ice-blue eyes that didn’t take shit from anyone, he looked pointedly at Jackson and added, “The secrecy issue is what’s at stake.”
For God’s sake, he knew that, Jackson felt like shouting to the field team leader. Since he was on the verge of reverting, maybe that’s why the mind wipe didn’t take. But there was no way he could admit that to any of them. Not Lily, not Cordell, and certainly not Dom. For his sake, it was best to let them wonder if it was the woman who’d caused the trouble. But that made him decidedly uncomfortable, as well. Either way you looked at it, this was a helluva vicious circle.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Dom paced to the other side of the room. “You’d better hope you do it right this time. If it turns out she’s immune to the mind wipe, then I’ll need to alert Region and they’ll send out one of the cleanup crews to take care of the situation.”
“Fuck the cleanup crew. I said I’d handle it.” In addition to making sure evidence of vampires was wiped from a scene, cleanup crews were also tasked with performing on-the-spot executions. The Council might say one of their primary responsibilities was to ensure the safety of humans to satisfy the law-abiding members of their society, but that was bullshit. When it came down to it, all they cared about was keeping their secrets intact.
No, he’d go back to the woman, try the mind wipe again, and pray that it worked. For both their sakes.
Because if it didn’t, one of them was screwed.
CHAPTER SIX
“DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE at home.”
Arianna knew instantly that the voice on the other end of the line was George Tanaka, the founder of OSPRA. Although she’d never spoken to him in person, she knew what he sounded like. He was the local media darling when it came to anything paranormal. Dressed in black with his fake professor glasses to make him look scholarly, he made appearances on all the morning shows the week before Halloween, talking about local ghost stories and legends.
“To what do I owe this honor?” she said sarcastically. It was the same tone of voice that had earned her many a slap from her great-aunt, but she couldn’t help it. She’d made no bones about the fact that she didn’t like George’s organization or his methods. “And how did you get this number, anyway?”
“I have my ways.”
“I’ll bet.” She’d long suspected George and his team at OSPRA had been hacking into her blog. Every now and then, a blog she’d written would mysteriously disappear, as if someone had the password and deleted it from her account. “Why do you care if I’m home or not?” He didn’t need to know that he’d indeed called her home number, not her cell. She still hadn’t located the thing.
“Because I’m concerned that if you are home, you’ll be getting visitors soon.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean? You planning on making a house call?”
“Listen, that blog you posted this morning was explosive. The photos, the eyewitness testimony. It’s very compelling evidence supporting the theory that vampires do exist. It’s a Van Helsing group’s wet dream.”
She hadn’t thought about how the so-called vampire-hunter groups would respond. She knew they’d probably read it because Icy Shadows had a standing invitation to attend the meetings of the local chapter. Due to privacy concerns, she’d always declined. Besides, she’d heard they were an odd bunch who spent all their time talking about knives and stakes in case they ever did encounter a real vampire. Seemed like a waste of time…till now.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Excuse me?”
“You were the one who witnessed the attack, am I correct?”
“I’m not going to divulge my sources. And I’m sure as hell not going to divulge them to you. Is that what this is all about? You want to know who took those photos and witnessed the attack so that you can try to capitalize on it?” He probably had media outfits calling him, wanting to interview him, but he had nothing. This was her story.
“Look. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but it’s obvious from the article and the photos that you’re the one who saw it.”
It was? How could he be so sure? Mentally, she recalled each photo she posted and could almost recite the short article word for word. Was there something identifying her in the photos? Had she slipped up and referred to herself in the first person rather than third? She’d taken great care not to write anything that could be tied to her directly. Or so she thought. Hell, she didn’t even identify the witness as being male or female.
“And because of that post,” he continued, “you’re in a lot of danger.”
“How so?”
“If what you saw is correct, and it looks pretty damn compelling to me, how long do you think it’s going to take for either of those two interested parties—the good guys and the bad guys—to track you down?”
“I told you, it wasn’t me.”
“Okay, fine. Stick with that story if you insist, but they’re going to want to know who the witness was and who took those pictures. They’ll come to you first in an effort to get to that person.”
“And why would they do that?”
“Think about it. You just posted some pretty damning evidence that supports the premise that vampires really do exist. They’re not going to be very happy about that. They might plan to pay you a visit to see just what you do know. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if that blog mysteriously disappears sometime soon.”
Things now made perfect sense. She could almost see George’s face, smirking, hoping she’d take the bait. “So that’s what this is all about. You’re threatening me. If I don’t take down that post, you’ll hack into my blog and do it for me.”
“Don’t be absurd. I’m simply trying to warn you.”
“Why? Are you upset I scooped you on what is probably one of the biggest stories any of us has ever uncovered? Ghostly orbs and EVPs are nothing compared to this evidence. I doubt anyone’s going to be able to debunk these photos.”
“I couldn’t give a hoot about orbs or electronic voice phenomena, and I’m not talking about debunking anything. Those pictures and your eyewitness account are pretty amazing. So how was it that you even remembered what happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“Surely you’ve heard the myths surrounding vampires. That they have the ability to somehow put humans into a trance or glamour them or get them to forget what they saw. They can’t have existed this long without some sort of ability to hide the truth when it does become known.”
She recalled how she had practically thrown herself into that man’s arms. Certainly, that wasn’t something she normally would’ve done with a stranger.
Correction: vampire.
Was George right? Could that man have messed with her memory? Done something to her to make her forget? That would certainly explain why she hadn’t recalled anything until she saw those pictures. And yet her recollection about what happened still wasn’t completely clear. Each of the pictures she’d taken that night sparked memories, but revealed little beyond the margins of the frame.
“And how was it that they didn’t realize you’d been taking pictures?” George continued. “I’d have thought they’d have been more careful when they realized you had a camera.”
Then it dawned on her. Of course. The man she’d kissed had taken her phone.
Closing her eyes, she visualized herself standing on the side of the road between two parked cars with that man right in front of her. Quicker than humanly possible, he’d snatched the phone out of her hands and made Krystal turn hers over, as well. She hadn’t lost it, after all. He’d stolen it from her.
George was sti
ll talking. “My advice is to take an extended vacation until this thing blows over.”
“Why? So you’ll get the media interviews and coverage all to yourself?”
“I’m serious, Arianna. I’m talking about your safety here. Get out of the house while you still can.”
EVERYWHERE SHE LOOKED, Ventra Capelli was surrounded by fools.
“I can’t believe you let the sweetblood girl slip through your fingers like that.” Did she have to do everything around here to ensure things were done correctly? A good manager knew when to do things herself and when to let others do it. Too bad so many Alliance members up here were so incompetent.
Ventra approached the large aquarium on the far side of the room. She snapped her fingers and someone handed her a water-filled plastic bag with live goldfish. Carefully, she lifted the lid of the tank and dumped in the contents. Instantly, two small sharks darted among the frantic goldfish, their predatory instincts alive and well, despite their being raised in captivity. One came up behind a yellow-and-white-spotted fish and swallowed it in one bite. Watching them feed like this gave her hope for her people. Instincts were never gone. They were only dormant until the right stimuli came along.
“You had her in your vehicle,” she continued. “Talk about a captive audience. It doesn’t get much more captive than that.”
“You don’t understand,” Ray said. “A Guardian came from out of nowhere. Jumped into the Jeep while we were trying to get away. Killed Vincent and almost got to me. I barely made it out of there alive.”
“Pity,” she said under her breath.
The ineptitude of these idiots was mind-boggling. They were soft, complacent. Granted, the energies in humans here in the Seattle area weren’t nearly as vibrant as they were in the southern regions where the sun’s rays were more concentrated, but there still needed to be a basic level of competency, which she just wasn’t seeing around here. Individuals like these needed to be micromanaged in order to ensure things would get done the way they were supposed to get done. One thing was certain—the last sector boss clearly hadn’t been a good manager.
“So you just ran away.”
“What did you expect me to do? Stay and get charcoaled?”
“I expect you to do your job, and your job was to bring that girl in. The others, too.” When Guardians had raided the Night of Wilding party, they rescued several sweetbloods. She was determined to get back what was once hers.
“You could let me do it.” The squeak from a chair reminded her that she had a visitor waiting for her in the back of the room. She could never remember his name. But then again, he was human, so what did it matter? When he stopped being useful, she’d take care of him herself.
She gave him a cursory glance and laughed. “How does a wannabe like you think you can bring in a sweetblood that Darkbloods couldn’t? You don’t look capable of wielding a weapon, let alone fighting off Guardians.”
The man tensed. “You forget. Guardians aren’t always around. Especially during the day. That constraint isn’t an issue for me and could be used to our advantage. If you really want her, I can deliver her to you myself.”
Want her? Ventra picked at a small chip in her nail, recalling the sting of regret she’d felt, knowing the girl was going to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Not that she didn’t want it to happen—the whole thing had been her idea in the first place—but someone else was going to be the lucky one to drain her dry. During the few days she had the sweetbloods in her possession, she’d become quite attached to them.
Like pets. Almost.
She recalled how the girl’s hair hung in ringlets almost to her shoulders. Even though it would’ve put thousands of dollars into her sector’s coffers, she still had fantasized about burying her own fangs into that pretty little neck and sucking till nothing else came out. Then Guardians came and fouled up everything.
But she was a firm believer in fate. Maybe there was a reason that those sweetbloods had survived that night. Maybe Ventra was the one destined to drain one or more of them and not some anonymous wealthy bidder. But then again, some wealthy bidder could make her a hell of a lot of money.
She tossed the empty plastic bag in the trash. “And how do you propose that.”
“Do you want her or not?”
Anger flared instantly in her veins at the human’s insolence. Was he not afraid of her? Where was the respect? Surely he had to know what she was capable of doing to him. Perhaps he needed a reminder. She stepped closer to him, opening her mouth to let him see her fangs. Slowly, she ran her tongue over one then the other before she continued, “Well, of course I want her.”
The man swallowed, flashed a nervous smile. Good. She’d successfully put him back into his place. One of subservience.
“I’ll do it, but only under one condition.”
Gripping the edge of the table, she leaned close. “And that condition is…?”
Rather than cowering away from her as she would have expected, he stared her straight in the eye, and with a clear, confident voice said, “Turn me into a changeling. The others before you promised but never delivered.”
She should’ve guessed as much. To a human, becoming a changeling was the equivalent of finding El Dorado and the Fountain of Youth. But changing a human took time. Finesse. And with it came responsibility. She didn’t want to be bothered.
If this human wasn’t so valuable, she’d have disposed of him right here and now. “That was a deal you made with my predecessor, not me.”
“Wasn’t this girl one of the ones that got away? Must be frustrating. You don’t want to hear how I’d get her?” The man’s tone was appallingly condescending.
Before he could take another breath, she crossed the room and had her hand around his neck. “This better be good, human,” she said, leaning in close, “because I just realized I haven’t had much to eat all day. And I’m famished.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
ARIANNA GLANCED AT THE darkening sky as she quickly pushed the shopping cart into the parking lot. If what she knew about vampire lore was true, then she didn’t have much time to get back home, pick up Krystal and hit the road. Once it was dark, they could come after her. She cursed how short the days were this time of year.
After speaking with George, she’d thought about what he’d said. Maybe he had been trying to scare her, but he definitely had a point. For such a long time, she’d been used to people not believing her. She hadn’t thought about the ramifications if they did.
She debated whether to just delete the post, but the damage had already been done. Besides, she’d started Paranormalish in order to give a voice to those who didn’t have one. To report on things that the mainstream media felt was too outrageous and outlandish to investigate. And that’s exactly what she’d done.
When she got to the Caddy, she popped the trunk then dumped two bags of ice into the foam cooler she’d just bought and started unloading the groceries.
She planned to take her cousin to the same little motel they’d stayed in on the way back from eastern Washington. It was just over the mountain pass and very isolated. With the exception of Vinny’s Kwik Stop, none of the stores stayed open past six o’clock. They probably wouldn’t arrive until seven or eight and there was no way she was going to head out after dark for food. Then tomorrow they’d figure out where to go from there.
For a brief moment, she considered heading down the coast, hitting a few of the theme parks in Southern California. A girl Krystal’s age would love that. But the thought of being around a lot of people made her really uncomfortable. Ever since her mom disappeared, she didn’t like large crowds.
Tonight, in the motel room’s kitchenette, she’d fix a quick chicken dish. Tomorrow, it’d be spaghetti. She’d figure out something else if they ended up being gone longer. She’d
already called in to work and told them she was taking the week off.
One of the bags tipped over and several lemons rolled out. As she leaned into the trunk to retrieve them, footsteps sounded behind her. Looking under the crook of her arm, she saw a pair of cowboy boots on the pavement. Large snakeskin ones. She jerked herself upright, banging the top of her head on the trunk lid.
“Ouch.”
“Careful there.” The man’s voice was deep and tinged with amusement.
Rubbing the top of her head, she started to ask if she could help him with anything, but as she turned around, the words locked in her throat.
It was the man from the night before last.
Panic tore a hole in her stomach and her fingers and toes went instantly cold. George was right. They were after her.
Before she could run, he closed the trunk and shoved her into the car. He moved so quickly she hardly knew what was happening until the inside of the passenger door slammed against her shoulder.
“I know what you are.”
“Ha. Believe me, I know that.”
He flashed her what he probably hoped was a disarming smile. Was that supposed to calm her down? Get her to go along with him? Thank God she didn’t see any fangs. “Stop. You can’t do this. Where are you taking me?”
“Tell me where Krystal is,” he said. He tossed his leather coat on the seat between them, backed the car out of the stall with a screech then jammed it into Drive.
Krystal? Why in the world did he want to know where her cousin was? “Like hell am I going to tell you that.”
“If you’re smart, you will.”
Huddled as far away from him as possible, she glared at him. On his biceps, the colorful snake tattoo—the one Krystal had mentioned—looked coiled and ready to strike. It was even more menacing given the man’s large, hulking muscles. Normally the Caddy felt huge, but with his presence soaking up all the available airspace, it felt like a teacup.
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