Keisha continued sobbing, her cries rising and falling. From the kitchen? Sharon set off in that direction.
She almost tripped over something in the darkness. Her breath caught in her throat as her heart hammered overtime in her chest. She backed up and looked down. A body—no, two bodies.
A man. A woman. She didn’t have to guess who they were.
Oh, Rosie…
Keisha continued to wail.
“Hush little baby, don’t you cry…”
Sharon whirled toward the direction of the voice. A woman’s voice, not much more than a child’s. A cold familiarity raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She sidled toward the kitchen.
The kitchen was aglow with the lights of Los Angeles streaming through the window. A woman stood in the center of the kitchen, near the island where Sharon had planned to prepare the tuna. Her strawberry blonde hair illuminated by the austere glow from the windows, she wore an evening gown, strapless, over skin the color of porcelain. Against the whiteness of her skin, Keisha looked as dark as graphite.
The vampire’s silver-in-black eyes glittered in the semi-darkness, and a grin broke out across her childlike face.
“Hello, Sharon. Surprised?”
“Helena… you’re…” Sharon’s voice trailed off.
“Alive?” What had once been Helena Rubenstein laughed demurely. “Well, not exactly. I see you’ve set up house with Mark? That’s so sweet!”
“How did you find us?” Sharon asked.
Helena grinned impishly. “Oh, I was always special, you know? Empathic. I still am, and I know some of you so well that tracking you was easy. Still, it took some doing… months, really. But the wonderful thing about being a vampire is that time is no longer your enemy.”
Things slid into place for Sharon. The gravity of what was occurring hit her then, and the pistol wavered in her hand.
Osric, a small voice whispered in her head.
“Let go of my niece, Helena.”
Helena looked at the sobbing infant in her arms. “Such a lovely child… you know, I had one, inside of me, before crossing over. She didn’t make it, I’m afraid… so perhaps I’ll just keep this one?” Helena kissed Keisha’s forehead and smiled again. Fangs glinted in the night.
Sharon fired at Helena’s right eye without hesitation. She was an accurate shot, excellent at this kind of engagement, and maintained her proficiency with constant drilling. But somehow, she missed. The bullet lodged itself into the microwave behind Helena, shattering the insulated glass. Helena laughed as she stepped to her left, almost blurring. Sharon pivoted, tracking her with the pistol, her movements smooth and machinelike as years of training took hold and shunted aside her fear for Keisha. She fired—and missed—again. Just by a hair’s breadth. She increased her pivot, stepping forward with her right foot to give her more play, aiming at the dead air Helena advanced toward…
A tall figure detached itself from the shadow beside the refrigerator to Sharon’s left, appearing virtually out of thin air. Before she could react, a cold hand clutched her arm, stopping her pivot. Another hand closed about the pistol, crushing its upper receiver. Sharon gasped as the trigger guard bent, pinching her finger. She depressed the trigger, but the hammer didn’t fall. Her pistol was destroyed.
Sharon twisted against the tall man’s might. She lashed out with her foot, striking at one of his knees. He hurled her aside, and she skidded across the tiled floor and crashed into a cabinet headfirst.
“That will be enough of that,” the man said lightly, his English accented, somewhat dainty. Sharon felt the power of his presence even through the pain in her head. She avoided looking at him as she slowly rolled into a seated position.
You’re dead, dearie. This was followed by a more forlorn thought: Oh Mark, where are you?
As if in answer, her cell phone chirped. It was the ringtone reserved for Acheson. She scrabbled for her pocket and rolled away from Helena and the tall man…
… only to roll into another vamp, this one a female with coal-black hair. She scooped up Sharon and sent her spinning through the air like a top. She cried out when the tall man snatched her up in an icy embrace. His arms were like steel.
“We don’t need any interruptions now, do we?” he asked as he reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her cell phone. He crushed it in his hand, and shattered plastic fell to the floor.
“Look at me, darling. Don’t be rude.”
There was a quality to the command that compelled her to do as she was told, but the suggestion was not strong enough to overcome the aversion she felt. Sharon screwed her eyes shut and turned away.
“Look at me!” the man repeated, and this time his voice was pitched low and full of barbs that raked across her psyche. Still Sharon held out, though it took all of her willpower. The man grabbed her chin, and she could do nothing to prevent him from turning her toward him. He had the strength to crush cinderblocks with his bare hands.
Sharon opened her eyes and found herself faced with a strong, masculine face, almost completely white from hairline to chin. He wore a dark suit, and for a moment, Sharon had the impression he had stepped out of a black-and-white movie. His eyes were the same silver-in-black as every other vampire she had seen, but these held something beyond psychic power. A cold intellect filled them, colder than a shark, more calculating than a computer.
“Do you know me?”
“Yes. Osric.”
He smiled and bowed his head to her. “Indeed. Are you surprised that I’m still among you?”
Sharon did not answer. She trembled uncontrollably. Should she fight? Submit? Try to flee?
“Why are you waiting?” she asked, finally.
“I’m sure your teams are on their way, but we still have some time.”
“Time for what?”
Osric grinned, exposing his fangs. “Oh, come now, darling. What do we—you call us goblins, yes?—what do we goblins always want?”
Keisha hiccupped another cry, attracting his attention. Helena bounced the baby slightly in the air, but the look on her face was anything but maternal.
“Such a charming cub,” Osric said. “An excellent appetizer, wouldn’t you agree?”
“No!” Sharon struggled with all her might. Osric gave her only a single glance, and she was as if paralyzed. Her body would not obey her commands, no matter how fast and furiously those commands were issued.
She despaired.
Osric reached out. Helena planted another kiss on the child’s forehead with her cold, dead lips, and handed over the infant. Keisha wailed. Even her fledgling consciousness recognized the touch of absolute evil, and she struggled against it as best as she could.
“Ah, the problem with humans this young,” Osric sighed. “No way to pacify them. One must merely get on with the business at hand.”
“Watch,” he told Sharon, and her eyes focused on him and Keisha instantly. Osric brought the crying infant to his lips, baring his fangs.
God no, don’t let this happen, was Sharon’s last coherent thought before Osric fed. It lasted for only a few moments, and his hands palpitated Keisha’s body, squeezing out as much sustenance as possible before dropping the lifeless figure to the floor as one might discard a cigarette butt.
“So tasty, the younglings are!” Osric smiled at her, blotches of Keisha’s blood clinging his fangs.
The last threads holding Sharon’s sanity in place snapped, and she retreated deep inside herself as Osric reached for her, his taloned hands moving like twin serpents.
6
Acheson disconnected when his call went into Sharon’s voicemail. He dropped the cell phone into the Tahoe’s center console as he wove in and out of the northbound traffic on the Hollywood Expressway. Beside him, Chiho finished a brief conversation on her own cell.
“Claudia can sense it quite strongly. It’s her man in black.”
“Who’ll get there first?” Acheson asked.
“Julia and Nacho are five minute
s out. Rick and Cecil a few minutes later. We’ll be last. Julia’s calling plan two, with she and Nacho hitting the front while Rick and Cecil come in from the back.”
“They need to check the swimming pool. Goblins like to use them as hiding places.”
“They know, Mark.”
By the time they made it to Mulholland, Julia and Nacho had already reported in, having parked their vehicles a few hundred feet up the road at a turnoff. Rick and Cecil parked half a mile uprange and were heading overland as quickly as they could.
Eight minutes later, Acheson pulled into his own driveway.
“Is this wise?” Chiho asked. “We should link up—”
“They’re already gone.” Acheson threw open the door and stepped out into the night. Chiho donned her radio headset.
“Two-Six is on scene,” she said before leaving the Tahoe.
“Moving in,” was Julia’s response.
Chiho hurried after Acheson as he marched toward the door. His night vision goggles were in place, and his SIG P220 was in his right hand. Chiho slipped on her own NVGs and drew her pistol. Acheson walked inside without a moment’s hesitation.
“Two-Six, wait for the team!” Chiho hissed over the headset.
Acheson didn’t respond. Chiho picked up the pace, her weapon at ready.
“Two-One, what’s going on?” Julia asked.
“Two-Six is in the AO,” Chiho whispered back. “Two-One is moving in after him.”
“Two-Six, Two-Four. Hold and wait! We’re not in position yet!” Julia barked over the net. “Two-Six? Come in!”
Chiho hurried up the steps and into the entry hall. There were no lights, but through the NVGs she could see everything as if the house were bathed by luminous green floodlights. Acheson stood over two figures wrapped together in the hallway outside the kitchen. Chiho didn’t know who they were, but neither was Sharon. Acheson pivoted, weapon trained on something inside the next room—the kitchen. Scanning the area as she had been trained, she followed Acheson as he stepped into the kitchen.
Chiho’s breath froze in her throat. The corpse of an infant lay just inside the threshold. She panned her Sig’s luminous sights across the entire room. Acheson moved to the center of the kitchen. Another corpse lay at his feet.
Sharon.
Shikata ga nai, Chiho thought. Nothing can be done now.
The rest of the team arrived moments later. Julia and Nacho were first in, each carrying MP-5s with laser sights. Cecil and Rick came in from the back, breathing hard from sprinting up the hill. Cecil carried the SAW, while Rick held an M4 with an M203 grenade launcher mounted beneath the barrel.
“Let’s clear this place,” Cecil said, all business.
She followed him and Rick upstairs, while Julia and Nacho took the ground floor. Acheson had been correct. The goblins had left long before the team arrived.
But not before exacting a terrible toll.
“Main floor, clear.”
“Second floor, clear.”
“Garage, clear!”
Acheson remained in the kitchen. He knelt beside Sharon and touched her face; it was still warm. She had been fanged on the inside of her right thigh, bitten all the way through to the femoral artery. As he watched, blood oozed from the wounds… or did it? He looked closer. The blood was pulsing from her in weak but consistent waves…
Acheson put his fingers to her neck and could feel a diminishing pulse.
“Two-Five’s still alive,” he said over the net.
“Come again, Two-Six?” Cecil asked.
“I said Two-Five’s still alive. Someone get me a medical kit!”
The team quickly assembled in the kitchen. Rick found the fuse box. The main breakers had been turned off.
“Lights on in five!” he said over the net. He counted off five seconds, then flipped on the mains. Lights flickered to life throughout the house, and the team removed their goggles. Cecil and Nacho went through the house closing drapes while Rick retrieved a medical kit from Acheson’s Tahoe, then sprinted back to the kitchen. He set the kit on the floor beside Sharon.
“Look, uh, what exactly are we trying to do here…?”
Acheson looked at him sharply. “What the hell do you mean?”
“She’s been fanged, man,” Rick said softly.
Acheson snapped open the medical kit.
“Mark.” Julia’s voice was level and firm. “Mark, she’s been fanged. We can’t save her. She’ll start to turn in seventy-two hours—”
“Thanks for the update,” Acheson said. He glared at Julia as he set about bandaging Sharon’s wounded thigh. Cecil stepped inside the kitchen and moved past Chiho, who stood and watched.
“What the hell,” the hulking black man muttered.
“Jules, I need plasma expander,” Acheson said.
Julia hesitated for a moment, then reached into the kit for the intravenous system.
“You really need to think this through,” she said, her voice almost a whisper as she tore open the packages. “We’re not going to be able to save her—”
“What the fuck are you doin?” Cecil fairly shouted. “Just let the sister go! She’s gonna become one of them, man!”
After Acheson finished dressing the bite on Sharon’s thigh he glared up at Cecil with such intensity that the bigger man took a step back.
“Not if we can get her to the Plant in time.”
Cecil’s jaw dropped. “Sumbitch,” he uttered.
“Rick, call Kerr,” said Acheson. “Have him get his ass to the Plant. Tell him we have a subject for his newest batch of anti-pathogens.”
Rick hesitated and looked at the others. Chiho stepped forward and knelt beside Acheson. She put a hand on his shoulder and shook him.
“Mark. There’s little chance of this working. You must know this.”
“If we don’t try, we lose right out of the gate,” Acheson said. He kept his eyes on Rick. His gaze was steady, but there was no panic to it… only a mild cast of desperation.
Rick made the call.
***
By the time the Tactical Operations Team arrived onstation, Sharon had already been loaded into Rick’s Dodge Ram. Acheson tasked Rick and Julia to deliver her to Andrew Kerr, who had assured Acheson he and his staff would have everything in place by the time Sharon arrived at the Plant, the group’s research facility in Alhambra, a small city several miles east of Los Angeles.
The rest of the team went about their duties and further secured the area. As far as such things went, it was an easy task. Since the area of operations was Acheson’s own home, they had no need to resort to the usual stealth and dispersal tactics. They were free to do what they wished.
When they were finished, Cecil pulled Acheson aside. “You may want to go to the Plant with her, boss. We got it under control here.”
Acheson shook his head. “No. This is my job, and Kerr’s better at handling this type of thing than I am.”
Cecil frowned. “You sure, man?”
“Yes, Cecil, I’m sure.”
Cecil hesitated for a moment, then stepped away.
Chiho approached him right after that, her face betraying no emotion. “Claudia is here.”
“Let’s see if she can give us a hand,” Acheson said. “Fill her in, and let me know when she’s ready.”
“Yes, of course.”
They parted ways. Acheson walked through the house, examining every room with a critical, practiced eye. At first, it was difficult. Though the slain family had been loaded into body bags, it was no easy task for him to compartmentalize the despair he felt upon seeing them. While he didn’t know them well, he had known them. And no one deserved their fate, especially an infant.
He managed as best he could by allowing his training and professionalism to take over. There were no signs of forced entry, which was not entirely unusual. The goblins could be uncannily efficient at covering their tracks, especially when under the direction of an experienced master. Just the same, Acheson inspect
ed every entrance and window. All was in order. No shattered locks or glass, and all the sliding glass doors were still in their tracks. Members of the TOC team were already collecting more formal forensic evidence, but any clues they might yield would not be known for days. In time, the group should be able to determine if the goblins involved were members of a known clan or a new one. The answer would inform the group’s tactical responses. But Acheson had no doubts.
This was a known clan… if not by its individual members, then certainly by virtue of its leadership. And while he resisted it as well as he was able, it was impossible for Acheson not to dwell on that aspect.
“Mark.” Chiho’s voice sliced through his reverie like an arrow through a paper target. Acheson turned and saw her standing on the stairs behind him. He was shocked to discover he had made it all the way to the second floor.
Outstanding. I’m running on autopilot.
“Mark?” Chiho called again. “Claudia’s ready. You asked to be present when—”
“Let’s go.”
When he rejoined the rest of the team in the main floor foyer, Acheson wasn’t oblivious to the furtive, awkward glances his subordinates shot his way when they thought he wasn’t looking. Even the old hands seemed disquieted by his presence. Acheson didn’t bother with small talk in an attempt to make them feel better. Besides, there wasn’t any time for that.
Instead, he turned his attention to Claudia. To his muted surprise, her gaze was hard-edged, cold, unsympathetic.
She knows I just fucked Chiho.
That didn’t surprise him in the least. Chiho had already told him that Claudia could read her well. And while Acheson wrestled with his own compounded guilt, he belatedly realized that Chiho was doubtless trying to win out over her own. Claudia must have read it the second she laid eyes on her partner.
“Claud. Can you give us a hand?”
“I can try.” Claudia’s tone sounded normal, but it didn’t dissuade Acheson from the notion that she hated him right now.
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