by Bec McMaster
"It's clear," Garrett said, and urged her and Charlie forward into the darkness.
She quite enjoyed working with people who knew what they were doing.
"Anyone think that this seems a little easy?" Charlie whispered, swallowing hard as they hurried through the abandoned tunnels.
"What do you mean?" Ingrid asked.
"Not a single guard, or a vampire sighting," he pointed out.
Which was troubling.
Nicholson returned from ahead, appearing out of nowhere. "We've reached the bottom level of cells," he murmured. "It's quiet."
"Too quiet," Garrett added grimly, then gestured them on ahead. "Expect anything. This is starting to feel like a trap."
"How would she know we were coming?" Charlie whispered.
"Maybe she saw us?" Ingrid replied. "Flanders, take point. Nicholson, cover the rear. Everyone, weapons out." She tipped her head toward Garrett, gesturing him to slip in behind Flanders. "I've got your back."
"Thanks," he murmured, unholstering his enhanced pistol.
They all carried firebolt bullets, which could take off a vampire's head if necessary.
The phosphorus glow from the glimmer light in the headset around Flanders's head provided just enough light to see by as they wound down, through half-used tunnels filled with rot and mud and the filth of this part of London. All of them were preternatural: they could see with the faintest of lights, and light made them a target in these tunnels.
The vampire tracks they were following led to a half-rotted door set into stone. Up, then. The scent through here was stronger, and bones lay scattered around. Ingrid's eyes watered, as her sense of smell was the strongest, and she took a moment to wipe them as the men fanned through the room and down the two tunnels spearing out from it.
"There are people in here," Charlie whispered, slinking back along the corridor from a small excursion. "I can hear them."
People? Ingrid went to the first cell and peered in. A pair of children scrambled away from her, curling into their mother's arms. An old man lifted a piece of chair and waved it threateningly. "Stay away from us," he rasped.
Jesus. The stench hit her again: unwashed bodies, blood and old death, mixed with a strong presence of eau de vampire.
"Sir," Garrett called under his breath. "Sir, I'm with the Nighthawks. I'm not here to hurt you."
Relief dawned on the man's face and the woman started sobbing. The man grabbed the bars, desperation plain on his face. "Please! Please let us out!"
"Who are you?" Garrett asked, looking around for a key. "What happened?"
"I don't know," the man gasped, gripping the iron bars on the cell doors as if afraid that they would leave him here. "Something rolled into the room of my house and started hissing gas. The next thing I knew, I woke up here with Verna and the children." The man swallowed. "There's vampires here. You can hear the screams at night, when they come and drag some of us away. They don't come back." He started sobbing. "They took my son three days ago, and they didn't bring him back."
Garrett came back out of the shadows. "No keys."
Ingrid slid her hand inside one of the pouches on her belt and withdrew her lock pick set. As much as she was frightened for Byrnes, she couldn't leave these people here in the dark.
She knew all too well what it felt like to be locked in a cage.
"A woman after my own heart," Charlie said as she set to work.
"Stop flirting, and keep an eye out." The lock was old, but it gave an appreciable click. Ingrid listened intently, but it seemed there were no guards on duty who'd heard the small noise.
The door was another matter. It groaned on its hinges, and she cursed under her breath as the old man yanked on it.
"Quiet," she hissed, holding the door firm. "You'll have to slip through the gap. And don't make any noise."
"Hullo?" someone called from further up the passage. "Hullo, is anybody there?"
She exchanged a look with Garrett. More prisoners. "Keep them quiet."
Garrett nodded and slipped into the darkness with the two Nighthawks following him.
The cell door opened and Ingrid helped the old man out. His wrist was shockingly thin, and the children were crying silently as their mother carried them out. Ingrid took the small water flask from her hip, wishing she had more as she shared it between them.
"Where did you live?" Ingrid asked, stroking the dirty hair out of one child's face.
"Begby Square," the man replied. "This is my neighbor, Anne, and her children."
"My husband?" Anne pleaded, grabbing hold of Ingrid's hand. "Please, my husband! They took him three weeks ago. Are there other cells? Other people?" She looked frantically back down the hallway where Garrett and the Nighthawks were freeing other hostages.
Three weeks ago. Ingrid swallowed, for the only answer she suspected she had was not one the woman would want to hear. "It's a warren down here. We'll make sure they all get out," Ingrid said soothingly, "but we need to get you and your children to safety first. I'm sure if your husband is down here, we'll find him.”
The old man exchanged a look with her as he tried to help Anne to her feet. "I'll make sure she gets out," he said, and Ingrid saw in his eyes the same thoughts that lurked within her. Anne's husband wasn't going to be found. Not alive, anyway.
This then, was what had happened to all the people who went missing. Someone had taken them, both in order to cause chaos and for far more practical reasons. After all, what could you feed to vampires?
It made her furious, and all of the hairs along her arms rose as the berserkergang fired within her. People weren't objects, and they weren't food. They didn't deserve to be locked in cages. Like she had been.
Zero had done everything possible to make this personal. Ingrid ached to smash her face in.
"Easy," Charlie muttered. "Save your anger for the one who deserves it."
"Oh, I will," she snarled, standing and glaring up the passage. "I'm going to make that bitch rue the day she ever set eyes on Begby Square."
"But first, we need to get the prisoners out," Charlie said.
Garrett came out of the darkness, a little girl wrapped in his arms and a trail of sobbing people hobbling behind him. His expression looked as haunted as her heart, and she realized that the little girl in his arms was only a year or so older than his twin daughters. "I'll get them out," he promised. "I've sent Nicholson back for more Nighthawks. You two go on ahead and rendezvous with Kincaid and Malloryn. We can't risk this bitch taking her anger out on Byrnes."
"It will be my pleasure," Ingrid growled, as she let the fury spill within her. She'd never let the berserker part of her nature have free rein before, but now wasn't the time to play nice.
THIRTY-TWO
"FANCY A LITTLE music?"
Zero moved to the cylinder phonograph in the corner and set it to playing. A faint waltz echoed through the brass horn. Instantly the two vampires’ eyelids began to lower as firelight flickered over the gaunt bones of their spines. Two hounds at rest by the hearth.
Somewhat sickening.
"Did you know," Zero murmured, watching them with a faint smile, "that they can be trained? It interests me. That one can be taught to react to something in association with... the same kind of stimulus. For example, they hear this music and they know that I am pleased with them, and that it is time to sleep."
Byrnes wriggled against his chains. "Fascinating." The daft woman was scratching one of the vampire's heads as though it were a hound. And he could swear that one of them was making some sort of purring sound deep in its throat.
"Do you wish to know how I discovered this?" Zero asked.
Why not? Anything that made vampires sleepy was possibly a good thing to know. "How?"
"I was once interred in an asylum by my husband." Her smile remained just as bright. "And I use the term 'interred' deliberately. He meant for me to die there. One of the things I learned is that sounds bring certain associations to mind. Even now the mere sc
rape of a key turning in a lock makes me feel ill."
He didn't want to sympathize with her, but it was all too easy to imagine what had happened to her. "How did you escape the asylum?"
"Oh, I didn't escape. I seduced one of the other inmates’ visitors—a baron—and became infected with the craving virus. After I tore out my handler's throat, the governor of the asylum took note. It's not the sort of thing one wants to have whispered about their facility, you see. Blue blood lords taking advantage of the patients. Tut, tut. What would the papers say?" She swirled in a slow circle as the phonograph played a couple of piquant notes, holding on to her skirts as if it were a waltz. "The next day a pair of red-liveried servants arrived to take me away. At first I thought it was Nigel—my baron—but I soon learned he'd forgotten me. Fickle man. No, these servants belonged to the Duke of Lannister. And they took me to Falkirk Asylum, which was masquerading as another treatment facility."
Falkirk, which had been owned by the Dukes of Lannister, Caine, and Casavian. He sensed where this was going.
"That was where I was reborn." Zero swirled to a halt near the table and opened a small case. He craned his neck to see what was inside it, but the curve of her body hid it. Zero held something up and flicked her nail against it. "I went into Falkirk as Annabelle, victim of a half dozen men and their whims, and I exited it as Zero, who can be judge, jury, and executioner."
"I won't argue that you've been poorly done by, but the people from Begby Square did no wrong by you. The guests at the Venetian Gardens had nothing to do with your incarceration. So why hurt them?"
Zero laughed. "Oh, Byrnes, I thought you were an investigator. That party belonged to the Earl of Carrington. Do you know who was on the guest list?"
"Nigel? Your baron?"
Her smile softened. "I almost began to doubt you, but you are just as clever as I had hoped. Poor Nigel's still alive, by the way, but I bet he wishes he wasn't. Did you know that blue bloods can survive almost anything? And they might be able to heal, but they can't actually regrow limbs or organs... or eyes."
"And what about Begby Square?"
"My husband lived there. Unfortunately, Thomas didn't last long enough to see my justice." Her face flattened as she strode toward him, holding something low against her skirts. "But his cow-faced mother did. And his two sisters. And all of their families, and the neighbors who sneered at me. Who is sneering now?"
A chill ran down his spine. What the hell was in her hand? "Possibly no one. You don't have to do this. I'm no threat to you—"
"Relax," she said, holding up a syringe. "I don't mean you harm. You're going to be one of my allies, Byrnes. This will hurt a little—the first time is always the worst—" She suddenly giggled. "That's what men always say, isn't it? But once it's done, you'll be on the first step toward your new transformation. I do hope you'll be strong enough to survive it."
A bubble of fluid wept from the top of the syringe. Byrnes’s gaze tracked it warily. "I think I'd like to know a little bit more about this... ah, transformation before we go ahead with it. Is it reversible?"
"Oh, no." Zero tore his sleeve clear up the middle, revealing the muscle in his upper arm. "Once it begins you must continue it, or else you'll end up like my failures."
Byrnes's gaze shot toward the vampires reclining on the floor. "How many treatments?" Hell, where was Ingrid? She should be here by now, and if she didn't come quickly, it was going to be too late. His gaze narrowed on the syringe needle.
"Seven treatments, provided all goes well. They shall proceed a week apart. Any closer together and your brain might trickle out of your ears." Zero rubbed a spot on his upper biceps, crooning a little under her breath. "You need to stay nice and relaxed, otherwise you'll hurt yourself. Don't worry. We've refined the formula since Dr. Cremorne used it upon us. The failure rate has gone down significantly. Only three in ten die now."
"Us?" He seized on the word, trying to crawl through the chair as she inched closer. "Who's us? Am I joining some sort of... elite brotherhood, hmm?"
Zero paused, glancing up from beneath her silvery lashes. "They're of no concern to you or I," she finally said. "You're mine. I'm tired of being told what to do and kept on a leash. I want my own fun, my own allies."
"Who's holding the leash?"
"You wouldn't be trying to get information out of me, would you?" Zero went very still.
He'd taken a slight misstep there. Byrnes summoned every ounce of arrogance that he could muster. "Of course I am. If there's someone running this entire coup, then I want to know who. I'm about to become what you are. Do you think I want to walk into a trap where there's a leash around my throat too, without at least knowing who it bloody well is? What if I take this leap and end up as slave for some despot? That's not me, princess."
"That's not me either." She seemed delighted. "I hate playing by the rules."
"You and me both." He made himself smile. Bloody hell. "Do you know what I like? I like puzzling out the answer to mysteries. And this is the greatest mystery of all. I won. I found you, so that we could be together. Don't I at least get my prize?"
Zero nibbled on her lip. "You could help me remove the leash," she whispered, as though thinking about it.
"Who do we have to kill?"
A slither of darkness slid through her pale blue eyes. "My brothers. We were born in a trial by fire, and since then we've only been able to rely on each other. Ghost is the problem. Without him, the others would leave us alone to do as we wished."
"Who's Ghost?"
"The first," she whispered. "The first one who survived the transformation. He thinks that gives him the right to lead us."
"And how many others are there?"
"There were six of us altogether: Ghost, me, Omega, Obsidian, Sirius... and X. Omega died in the fire. The rest of us fled when Falkirk went up in flames, and took new names to represent our rebirth. It took a while to... come to terms with being free. Ghost took control because he said that we couldn't simply slaughter our way through the population, or they'd turn on us." A snarl curled her lips. "Why should we care? We're better than them, all of them. But he said that even we should fear the people, and the way technology has provided them with a means to hunt us with their spitfires and Cyclopses."
"So Ghost is making the rules," he said, watching her face. "Kill him, and... we're free?" Why the hell did this Ghost have something against Malloryn?
Zero seemed to come back to herself. The distance faded out of her eyes and she turned that direct look upon him. "Try to kill Ghost," she told him, "and he'll make you eat your tongue for breakfast. If it were so easy, do you not think that I'd have done it by now?"
"You don't seem to care for your brothers very much."
"There is no blood between us. Only a shared experience, and they consider me to be the weak one." Hatred ignited on her face. "I'll show them weak. I'm the one with the vampires."
Byrnes eyed the nearest creature. Its head had jerked up, its nostrils flaring wide.
"What are you—?" Zero followed his gaze, her cool smile vanishing as she too saw the intensity in the creature's frame.
Please don't be Ingrid. Or no, please be Ingrid. Byrnes strained against his ropes, but it was hopeless. There was no escape.
Footsteps pounded along the hallway, and gunfire suddenly burst out in a sharp staccato.
Both vampires perked up, like hunting hounds sensing prey. It would be a slaughter if he didn't warn them.
"Vampires!" Byrnes bellowed, knowing that he'd blown his cover. "There are two vampires in here—"
A fist slammed into the side of his head. Byrnes spat blood, trying to blink through the dizziness.
"So...." The look on Zero's face boded trouble. "You lied to me," she said, and the way she said it was so eerie that all of the hairs on the back of Byrnes's neck lifted.
"No, I never meant to—"
And Zero slammed the syringe into the muscle of his arm and injected all of its contents into him wi
th a vicious look upon her face.
* * *
THE FIRST SCREAM tore through the asylum.
Ingrid had never heard anything like it. She froze. "Byrnes." There was no way to guess how she knew it was him, but something about that animalistic sound shivered down to the very core of her.
"Ingrid! Wait!" Charlie snatched at her sleeve, but she wasn't listening.
All that she knew was that her man was in danger. The world vanished as blood rushed through her veins and she tore ahead of Charlie, Malloryn, and Gemma, just as a pair of vampires came out of nowhere.
One of their heads exploded like rotten melon as someone shot from behind her. The other one launched itself toward her, claws raking the air, and its lean body twisting catlike as she threw herself beneath it, rolling in a ball as it flew over her—
Ingrid came up and hit the door with her shoulder. It jarred the whole way through her. She caught a glimpse behind her of Charlie and Gemma parting around the vampire, moving with blue blood grace as they lashed in with knives. Another scream echoed from within, and Ingrid slammed into the door again.
Malloryn withdrew a hollow-looking rifle from inside his coat. It looked somewhat similar to a grappling gun. The second he had an opening he fired, and a silver-tipped net shot out, trapping the vampire inside.
"Go," he called, catching her eye and jerking his head toward Charlie.
The vampire's high-pitched scream of rage pierced her eardrums as she took out her pistol and shot the lock off the door. Slivers of wood erupted from the timber and Ingrid flung her arm up in front of her face. The second it had settled she burst through the door, looking for Byrnes. He strained in a chair, blood dripping from a mark on his arm and the muscles in his biceps standing out in stark relief as he screamed again. There were chains bolted into the floor, holding him there.
The sound shocked her. Not pain. Not fear. That was rage she heard in his voice.
“Byrnes?” she whispered, sliding to a halt.
No time to follow up. Zero came out of nowhere, swinging some sort of staff, with a pair of vampires at her heels.
