“Okay,” I murmured.
If Iverson had eyes in the ballroom, then we were almost ready. My job was to mark the vamps for the team, to help them try to avoid killing the humans. The people in league with vampires were probably acceptable casualties, if it came down to it. But there were other people in the hotel, and we didn’t want to take out any of them, if we could help it.
This could end up being a worse bloodbath than the clinic.
“Time to get going here,” I said to Reese. “Introduce me to anyone you think is a Sanguinary member. Pretend you’re glad-handing it as the new Dallas admin,” I said.
And please don’t really be taking the job. Please be on my side for real.
“You got it.” Reese scanned the room for a moment.
Everywhere, vampires and humans in luxurious evening wear and exotic masks mingled, the hum of conversation and the clinking of crystal glasses providing a steady undertone to the music provided by the orchestra tucked into a corner of the room.
“Okay,” Reese finally said. “Let’s begin over there, with the couple in the matching blue masks.”
As we made our way around the room, I realized that Reese really was a consummate politician. He knew everyone, and everyone knew him. They watched me with wary eyes, though, and I realized that there must be stories about me circulating through the vampire community. I even caught the tail end of a few whispered conversations: “killed him for touching her,” “Reese’s Claim,” “threw her across the room,” “Reese’s power.” And through it all, I smiled and shook hands, touched vampires on the arm, the shoulder, the small of the back.
It was exhausting. I hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to make conversation with the vampires I was planning to execute.
Worse, I actually liked some of them. A blonde woman in a green dress had confided to me that she’d always wondered why Reese hadn’t taken a companion and said she was glad to see him finally “come into his own.” A tall, gangly man in a tuxedo with too-short arms had tripped over his own words until he had started talking about his quest to synthesize human blood. He reminded me of the less-articulate crime-scene techs, socially hopeless but brilliant when in their own element.
I had to keep reminding myself that these were all vampires.
They were all connected to the Sanguinary, all part of a group of vampires who would happily see humanity enslaved, turned into blood-giving pets.
None of these vampires were of the “good” variety.
If there were even any such thing as a good vampire.
I looked over at Reese out of the corner of my eye. He was smiling at an anecdote a young-looking vampire was telling about a recent blood house party. I wondered what thoughts Reese’s urbane smile hid, then wondered if I could figure out his thoughts if I concentrated hard enough.
Worried what I might discover, I decided not to try.
Snap out of it, Davis, I admonished myself silently. This is no time to start worrying about Reese. Think of him as a coworker. I could deal with that stuff after we got through the night. If we got through the night.
I shook my head and Reese glanced down at me with a frown. A spark skittered across my skin, as if trying to find a way in. I scanned the room for something to distract my vampire partner.
Across the room, Leah Richards gestured with her mask to emphasize a point as she spoke to Dahlia, whose back was toward me.
Where was Garrett?
“I’ll be back,” I said to Reese.
He followed my gaze and nodded. “Have fun.”
I made my way over to the pair, coming up behind Dahlia and putting my hand on her back.
“Dahlia, darling,” I purred into her ear.
She jumped away from my hand and Richards laughed.
“Don’t touch me, you freak,” Dahlia’s little-girl voice was even more highly pitched than usual.
“Where’s my ex-partner?” I glanced around for Garrett.
“Oh, I’ve got a surprise for you tonight.” Dahlia tried to drop her voice down to a more silky tone. “I’ve arranged for him to be here later.”
This can’t be good.
“Or maybe he isn’t here because you just couldn’t hold his attention,” I said, trying to simultaneously survey the room for my former partner.
Where is he? What the hell did Dahlia mean?
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Dahlia pouted.
“No,” said Richards, “you could get your ass tossed across the room. What do you think?” she asked, turning to me. “Are you up for another round of Toss the Vampire Bitch?”
Dahlia’s nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed. She hissed wordlessly at Richards and stalked off.
“That was fabulous,” I said, watching Dahlia go.
Richards hit my wrist with her mask. “Just because I don’t like Dahlia doesn’t mean that I do like you. Don’t think I’m going to forget that.” She strode away.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Wait till you get your ass staked.”
“What was that?” Iverson said in my ear.
“Nothing.” I moved back to Reese, who watched my return with amusement dancing in his eyes. We continued our rounds, meeting up eventually with Boyd and his gaunt bloodgiver, who had joined him after all. Seeing him up close, I realized that the vampire had been a small man in life. He wasn’t even as tall as I was. He was clearly one of those little men who hated his women to be taller than him—his bloodgiver was tiny, barely reaching Boyd’s shoulder.
“Reese,” he said in greeting. “I understand you are to be nominated for the Dallas administrator position.” The cold anger in his gaze left no doubt: He disliked being passed over for the position.
“It’s not official yet.” Reese’s nonconfrontational tone was at odds with the way he stepped closer to Boyd, looming over him threateningly.
“These things rarely are beforehand.” Boyd spoke through clenched teeth. “I have a few concerns I’d like to discuss with you as soon as possible.”
Both vampires were ignoring me, so I sidled up to Boyd’s bloodgiver. She looked pale and wan and miserable, following her vampire around. “Hi,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m Cami.”
The woman looked at me with huge, terrified eyes. I was about to say something else—I don’t know what, but I was aiming for something soothing—when Boyd turned around and hissed at me. Not in words—it was another one of those creepy vampire hisses. He bared his fangs, and with a snarl, snatched his bloodgiver away from me.
“You should train your pets to behave in public,” he hissed. “And not to speak when her betters are talking.”
I gasped in outrage. But Reese smiled and said, “I’m perfectly happy with her behavior, Boyd.”
“And this is exactly why you should not be named administrator.” Grabbing the woman by the hand, he stalked off.
I hoped he didn’t survive the night, and that his bloodgiver got good professional help when it was all over.
The closer we got to midnight, the more nervous I felt. I kept touching vampires, hoping Iverson and his crew were taking careful notes.
At five minutes until midnight, right as I thought my nerves were close to the breaking point, Mendoza stepped out onto the raised dais at the far end of the room.
“Friends, loved ones, guests,” he said loudly. Everyone turned to look at him and the hum of conversation slowly died down.
“It’s a pleasure to see you all here tonight.” He nodded toward the back of the room, and two tuxedoed vampires swung the ballroom doors closed.
“The room is locked down,” Iverson’s tinny voice in my ear reported.
“Wait!” I hissed. People near us turned their heads to find the disturbance. I quickly glanced at Reese, hoping it would look like I was speaking to him. “I want to hear this,” I whispered.
“We’re on hold,” Iverson said. “The code word for ‘go’ is pineapple. Repeat: pineapple.”
Pineapple?
On
the small stage, Mendoza had finished his greetings and moved on. “At a traditional Venetian masked ball,” he said, “it is usual to unmask at midnight and go to the dining room for a late supper.”
Everyone was staring at Mendoza with rapt attention.
“However, we do not have a late supper, nor could many of us eat one even if we did—” And here he paused for a moment. When the crowd had stopped laughing politely, he continued, “So let us all remove our masks, shall we?”
There was a rustling noise as the crowd obeyed.
“Now,” Mendoza said, “I have arranged not for a light midnight supper, but rather, for a sumptuous feast—and a glorious passage.”
With a flourish, he signaled to someone behind the curtains that were blocking off the back part of the room. The fabric pulled aside to reveal a small, raised stage holding maybe thirty or forty people—human people—huddled together, blinking into the spotlight now turned on them. The crowd gasped in delight and began applauding wildly.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God,” Iverson whispered into my ear. “Is that what I think it is?”
“The big sacrifice,” I answered grimly.
The people on the stage were chained together, and many of them wore hospital-style nightgowns. Those who were wearing civilian clothes stood out clearly. And there, right in the middle of the group, chained with the rest of the feast, was Agent Stan Chandler.
“Oh, no,” I said.
“We’ll get them out of here,” Reese whispered.
Staring at the group on the stage, I tried to figure out how we were going to carry out our original plan without hurting any of these people. Although I hadn’t been happy with the idea of human casualties, I had been okay with the knowledge that a few of the vampires’ human buddies might die in this operation. It was, I rationalized, the price you risked paying for hanging out with creatures of the night.
But these people had not chosen to be here. They were innocent victims.
And one of them was FBI.
Chapter 25
“I would like to thank the Alfred Ellison Psychiatric Institute for its generous donation tonight,” Mendoza was saying as he gestured toward the group of chained people, many of whom were now openly crying.
Crap. There was more than one clinic under the vampires’ control.
The patients shifted a bit, shuffling on the stage. Vampire guards stood on either side of them, watching the victims carefully.
Then I froze as another one of the chained victims caught my eye.
Garrett.
Dahlia’s surprise.
I should have thrown her across the room again when I had the chance. I will kill her the next time I see her.
Mendoza continued, “But before we begin dinner, I have a few announcements to make.”
“I can save those people,” Reese whispered. “Follow my lead.”
Follow his lead? That wasn’t the plan.
“Cami,” Iverson said in my ear. “Are we on?”
“Not yet.” I wasn’t willing to let the killing start until I knew what Reese was planning.
And whose side he was really on.
Reese made his way toward the dais, and I followed him. Mendoza, searching the crowd, made eye contact with Reese and smiled.
Oh, God. Please let me be right about Reese.
“As many of you know,” Mendoza said, “the post of North Texas administrator was recently left open. I have been asked to take, and have accepted, that post.” Polite applause. “The Cabinet has met, and has decided to appoint Reese Fulton to my former position as Dallas administrator. Reese, would you step up here please?” Mendoza held his hand out toward Reese, and someone aimed a spotlight directly on us, blinding me momentarily. I blinked the dazzle away, squinting toward the dais and the stage behind it.
At that moment, Garrett looked up and made eye contact with me, anguish flooding his face. Before I could even acknowledge him, give him some signal to tell him we would free him, he let out a howl and leapt toward Mendoza.
I don’t know what he planned to do, what he thought he could accomplish, chained as he was to other victims, surrounded by vampires.
He was pale—weak from his addiction, from blood loss. From misery.
Maybe he hoped to take down even one of the bastards who had brought him to this state. But he didn’t have a weapon, didn’t have anyone backing him up. As he jumped toward Mendoza, another vampire reached out, almost casually, and snapped his neck.
Garrett crumpled to the floor, pulling several of the people chained to him down to their knees around him.
Mendoza gestured at one of his lackeys, who pulled out a knife and knelt next to my partner’s body.
“Well,” Mendoza said in a horribly jovial tone, “I guess we will begin the festivities early.”
As I stood frozen in the middle of the ballroom, the vampire leader spoke a few words in a language I didn’t understand. A blue light gathered around Garrett’s body, shining through what looked like a hole in the air.
“Hold that open,” Mendoza directed the vampire who had pulled open Garrett’s shirt and was carving something into his abdomen with a knife.
Symbols that matched the ones on the Vamp Killer’s vics.
Reese was right: The Sanguinary was using clinic patients—and now my former partner—to open a hole between worlds.
I didn’t want to see what was on the other side of that passage.
I couldn’t let Mendoza get any further in his plan. I tensed, preparing to jump. But then Reese leaned over and kissed my cheek, squeezing my hand tightly. “Do not react,” he whispered. I did my best to make my expression blank—to avoid looking at Garrett’s lifeless body being carved into on the stage, even as his empty, open eyes seemed to stare at me accusingly.
I tried not to think that in his last moments, he had believed he was truly alone.
I won’t just kill Dahlia. I will make her suffer first.
Reese let go of my hand and moved, smiling and waving triumphantly as he made his way onto the dais, ignoring Garrett’s death as if it had not occurred.
As if it didn’t matter.
As the spotlight followed him, I blinked again and looked past the stage, right into Stan Chandler’s furious eyes.
Clearly Reese’s mind-meld trick at the blood house hadn’t completely worked. The FBI agent had persevered in his questions, at least enough to get him picked up by the Sanguinary.
And now he thought I had something to do with him ending up chained to a group of other victims in the Adolphus Hotel ballroom.
If we both lived, I’d set him straight. Eventually. Right now, I had more important issues to deal with.
As Reese arrived at the middle of the stage, Mendoza reached out and grasped his hand, raising it above his head in a sign of victory. Reese smiled broadly.
No, no, no. Please don’t be one of them. The almost-prayer ran through my mind over and over.
Then their hands came down and Reese turned in toward Mendoza, pulling him close and whispering something in his ear.
When they parted, it looked for a moment like nothing untoward had happened—other, of course, than my sometimes-boyfriend vampire partner taking over a major Texas city and preparing to open a portal to some kind of hellish vampire dimension.
But then Mendoza staggered back a couple of steps and blood bloomed through a ragged hole in his white shirt, staining the front and dripping to the floor.
I hadn’t seen that coming.
Everyone froze for a moment, as if trying to comprehend the idea that Reese, new administration member, had actually staked Mendoza, one of the most important vampires in the Sanguinary.
Follow his lead, he’d said.
Okay, then.
I drew in a deep breath, and then…
“Pineapple!” I shouted at the top of my voice.
All around me, the vampires I had marked began having difficulty keeping their heads, courtesy of Iverson’s snipers.
> As soon as I saw the first bloody pop, I ran for the dais, pushing against the general tide of the crowd, most of whom were headed for the exits.
As I waded upstream through the mob of people, I pulled a stake out of its loop down inside my cleavage. Every chance I got, I took a vampire down with it. It was easier than I had expected—many vampires were still trying to figure out exactly what was going on.
My main goal, though, was to get up on the stage. I got a glimpse of it through the crowd and saw that Chandler—or someone, anyway—had gotten everyone to lie down when the shooting started.
Good for him. I hoped he could keep all those poor people calm until I got there.
As I moved across the room, a female vamp—the blonde in the green dress who had been so nice earlier—jumped me, her hands curled into claws aiming for my eyes, her mouth open wide as she let out a bloodcurdling scream.
I didn’t even have to think about it. I pulled with my mind, and I could feel Reese’s strength flow through me.
I punched my fist out toward the vampire’s stomach and caught her in mid-air, sending her flying up toward the ceiling, still shrieking incoherently.
A sudden pop silenced her screech. I got one look at her eyes, wide with surprise, and then her head exploded in a shower of evil-smelling vampire blood and brains, raining down all over my beautiful new dress.
I shook a clump of brain matter off my hand. It landed on the floor with a plop.
I glanced behind me to see Iverson, his eyes huge, leaning against the doorframe, holding his gun steady with both hands, still aiming where the vamp had been. He held my gaze for a long moment and I froze, waiting for his response to my action. Finally, he nodded at me once, solemnly. I waved my thanks and raced toward the stage.
Reese was already there, trying to talk to the prisoners as I clambered up some side stairs.
Unfortunately for Reese, most of the prisoners were patients from a psychiatric institute.
One of them was standing with his arms high in the air, dragging the people chained directly to him in so close that their hands raised with his—which made him look oddly like a prophet surrounded by adoring acolytes—and screaming, “The end is nigh! The apocalypse is upon us!” over and over at the top of his voice.
Sanguinary (Night Shift Book 1) Page 15
