“No.” He heads for the front door, then stops and looks at me, realizing he can’t open it. “Fucking vampires.” He pulls his coat shut like it’s a suit of armor, then tromps down the stairs. I hear doors slam, and in less than a minute Franklin’s car outside roars, squeals, and departs.
“Do you think he’ll ever forgive Adrian?” Jeremy asks me.
“Should he?”
“Not until he earns it by giving us Kashmir’s head on a platter. Of course, it wouldn’t stay on the platter, since vampires’ heads get sucked back into . . .” His voice trails off as he looks at me. “Sorry.”
I shrug as I sit behind my desk again. “That’s reality.”
“You think vampires feel it when their bodies go through the hole?”
I think of Jim folding into himself. “I hope not.”
“Maybe it’s better to burn, like Deirdre.”
“That didn’t sound too fun, either. It took longer than I thought it would.” Her screams still echo in my memory.
“Maybe because it was indirect sunlight. I bet it’d be faster if you just jumped out into a sunny day at noon.”
“Then it’d be like jumping into flames, which is fast.” I think of Lori’s old boyfriend Travis, who died saving me from a fire. He was gone in less than ten seconds. “Yeah, that’d be the way to go.”
“Guys?” David calls from his office. “Can you take your morbid conversation elsewhere?”
“Sorry.” I lower my voice toward Jeremy. “Expectant father.”
“We need to talk about your wedding video, anyway. I had an idea: put a five-minute edited version on the station Web site.”
“That’d be great PR. The listeners will love seeing Shane in a tux. Maybe they’ll even send gifts.” I jot a note on a Post-it: “Add wedding registry link to WVMPradio.com.” It seems silly, but these small acts of defiance remind me that yes, goddamn it, I have a future, and no undead fashion-criminal glam rocker is taking it away from me.
When we’re finished, Jeremy and I join Shane and the other Control agents in the lounge. Monroe and Spencer are there, too, as well as Dexter, lying next to the sofa.
Shane stands, watching the security-camera monitors on the wall. Spencer and Monroe flank him, the three of them as still as cats waiting for prey.
I join them. “How’s it going?”
“Uneventful, except when Regina was here. She couldn’t stop counting the cars going by on that one.” He points to the far right monitor, connected via satellite to a camera mounted on a tree at the end of our quarter-mile-long driveway. It was by far the most expensive part of the security system, but well worth it. The driveway is full of ruts and bumps, which means drivers have to take it slow. With the camera, we’d have more than a minute’s warning if any vehicle entered our property. Assuming they came via the road.
Elijah’s speaking quietly on his phone, while Henley and Rosso are drinking coffee and studying a map of Maryland power lines, no doubt trying to narrow down Kashmir’s daytime location.
“You think they’ll wait until Monday and come for us all?” Jeremy asks me. “Maybe they’ll try to call you and Shane out by yourselves. Maybe they’ll give one last warning, like a ‘Surrender Dorothy’ written in the sky.”
Most of us offer a nervous chuckle at the Wizard of Oz reference. But something about the Wicked Witch of the West skywriting those words with her broomstick gives me pause.
“Was she saying, ‘Surrender, Dorothy,’ telling Dorothy to surrender? Or was she telling the people of Oz that they had to ‘Surrender Dorothy,’ meaning ‘Give her up’?”
After a long silence of maximum awkwardness, Jeremy says, “I assumed it was the first.”
I know the timing of this discussion is weird, yet I can’t stop myself. “But there’s no comma after ‘Surrender.’ Right?”
“I’ll do an image search.” Jeremy pulls out his phone and brings up a Web browser. “You’re right.”
“Probably hard to skywrite a comma,” Elijah says.
“It could’ve been done.” Jeremy touches his screen to zoom in on the image. “This pic shows where the witch finished the Y in Dorothy. She was perfectly positioned to add the comma after the R.”
The room takes a moment to absorb this, or maybe to figure out how to change the subject. Finally Shane speaks without looking over at me:
“What if ‘Surrender Dorothy’ was meant to have two meanings?”
Usually that would please me. But now it just pisses me off. It feels like my life depends on knowing which it is.
Jeremy’s still examining his phone screen. “Huh. There are several bands named ‘Surrender Dorothy.’ ”
“Folks.”
Spencer speaks quietly, but his voice commands attention, as always.
“It’s five twenty-one,” he says. “Twilight.”
Twilight. Half an hour after sunset. Wherever Kashmir and his pals are, it’s safe for them to come out.
Monroe steps closer to me, our shoulders almost touching. Instinct makes me lean into him before I can stop myself. Slowly he puts a sheltering arm around my shoulder.
“We won’t surrender you to no one,” he says. “Not nobody, not no how.”
• • •
At five thirty-four, Captain Henley’s phone rings. Though we were expecting it, all of us here in the lounge jump like a firecracker just went off.
“Sir,” says the voice on the other end. “Reporting in from Ms. Falk’s house. We’ve got them.”
“All three?”
“Yes, sir. Two have been taken into custody, and we’re staying with the third in the event Kashmir calls.”
“Good work, Beckett. Let us know the moment you hear from any of the targets or the other operatives.”
He hangs up, and we let out a collective sigh of relief.
Such bright early progress, unfortunately, is no sign of how the rest of the night goes. Hours drift by. Henley checks in with Beckett, who is equally bored sitting with Bonnie at Deirdre’s house. Midnight passes with not a peep from Kashmir.
Shane does his radio show at midnight, then Jeremy at three a.m. Eventually Monroe and Spencer join the other DJs back in the apartment. Shane and I keep the volume low as we watch the monitors and listen carefully for any sounds outside.
Just after five a.m. the station phone rings. My direct line.
As I answer, I take a breath to keep my voice smooth so I can pretend it’s just a regular night.
“WVMP, the Lifeblood of Rock ’n’ Roll. This is Ciara.”
“Good evening. It’s your nemesis.”
Kashmir’s voice pokes a hundred cold needles into my spine. “Sorry, you’ll have to be more specific.” I mouth Kashmir’s name to Shane and the Control agents.
“I paid a visit to your apartment last night,” Kashmir purrs. “Looks like I missed you.”
I shiver at the thought of him lurking outside our home, and am ecstatically happy that we brought Dexter with us to the station. “You must’ve also missed our sign that says Absolutely No Solicitors or Assassins.”
He actually chuckles. “That’s a good one. But before your charm completely distracts me, I should mention that we found someone there. Someone you love very much.”
I run through the list of loved ones as fast as my panicky mind will allow. Lori’s at her own home, and everyone else is here. Wait: Where did Franklin go?
Another voice comes on the phone. “Ciara? Sweet pea?” The woman is breathing hard and fast, making her words shake. “Are you really there?”
My own words drown in my throat as the ice in my gut rises, then melts in the hot wash of fury. Kashmir, I will kill you.
I force out the only comfort I can give. “I’m here, Mom.”
22
Bullet with Butterfly Wings
“Who are these people?” Marjorie’s voice rises and falls with her breath. “They’re so strong and they move so fast, faster than I can—aaah! Oh my goodness.”
I f
ix my gaze on Shane. “Mom, did they hurt you?”
“No, not yet. They told me they worked with you. That’s why I went with them, even though I knew I shouldn’t. Their eyes made me stupid.”
“But why are you even here?” It’s an irrelevant question, but I’m still getting a handle on this horrific new reality.
“I’m sorry, I fibbed to you about when I was being released. I wanted it to be a surprise when I showed up on your doorstep. Honey, I’m so scared.”
Her words are coming almost faster than I can process them. Kashmir must have found her waiting outside my door. “Where are you now?”
“I don’t know. They made me lie down in the backseat.” She lets out a sob. My hands curl into fists so hard and fast, my middle fingernail breaks.
Kashmir comes back on the phone. “So here we have a puzzle for you to solve: how to get your mom out of here alive.”
“Tell me what you want.” My con-artist caginess has fled me. I’m ready to trade myself for her, no tricks or double crosses. Just life for life. “Tell me when and where. I’ll come.”
“We’re at Crosetti’s Monuments off Raleigh Avenue. But I don’t—”
“I know where that is. The headstone makers.” Damn it, Johnny Crosetti’s a double agent, or maybe just in thrall to Kashmir. “The place with the fake graveyard out front.”
“Not entirely fake, from what I’m told. As I was trying to say, I don’t want you to come here. I want you and Shane to send Monroe and Regina in the next hour. Or we’ll kill your mother.”
In the background, Mom’s voice rises high and sharp. It cuts off suddenly as Kashmir hangs up.
I take the phone slowly from my ear and look at the time on its screen: less than an hour until sunrise. Kashmir’s not the only enemy we have to face.
I whisper to Shane, “Did you hear what he wants?”
He nods slowly. “I’m not giving up our makers.”
Luckily they’re not in the room to protest. “What do we do? We don’t have time to send trained hostage negotiators.”
“There’s the Control Enforcement team at Deirdre’s house.”
“If they bust in there, he’ll kill my mom. Humans can’t be quiet enough.”
“We’ll go,” says a deep voice behind me.
I turn to see Elijah standing with Henley and Rosso.
“I’m coming with you,” Shane says, grabbing a stake from the table.
“Me, too.” I go to grab a stake and realize there are none left.
“No way,” Elijah says. “McAllister, you’re suspended, not to mention unqualified for this kind of operation. Griffin, you’re not even Enforcement-trained.”
“But this is my mom!”
“Which makes it an even worse idea for you to go,” Henley offers. “You’re too emotionally entangled.”
“The three of you against four of them, with a hostage?” Shane says. “I don’t like those odds. You need us.”
Elijah throws up his hands. “What part of ‘unqualified’ do you not get, boy? You’re not trained in these tactics.”
“What if we don’t go as Control agents?” I take the stake out of Shane’s hand and lay it back on the table. “What if we go as us? We walk through the front door and offer ourselves as ransom. While he’s distracted, you rescue my mom.”
Elijah shakes his head. “What makes you think he won’t up and kill your stupid asses in one second?”
“The fact that he hates us.” I look up at Shane. “He’ll want to hurt us first, especially since he can’t do it by killing Monroe and Regina.”
Captain Henley widens his stance, arms crossed. “I don’t like it. Not at all.”
“Dammit, we’re running out of time!” Shane grabs his phone and car keys from the side table. “Let’s quit jaggin’ around and get moving. You can fire us if you want, but we’re saving her mom. This is the best plan we have right now, and you know it.”
The taciturn Agent Rosso finally speaks. “Sirs, they’re correct. The more we talk, the more time slips away. There’s a human life to save.”
“Yeah, well, no one asked your opinion.” Elijah pulls on his uniform jacket. “Even if it’s the right one. Let’s go.”
The three of them walk out the door into the back corridor. Elijah sticks his head back in the doorway. “I said, let’s go!”
• • •
Shane and I drive in my car, while the Enforcement agents take off in their own. Jeremy and Noah keep an eye on the monitors and promise to call if they see anyone following us away from the station. But we get no phone call.
Sitting in the passenger seat, I take Shane’s hand. “Want to hear something funny? I’m more afraid of the sun than I am of Kashmir.”
“With any luck the Enforcement guys will kill Kashmir and the Not-So-Magnificent Three, and then we can all stay in the room below Crosetti’s for the day.” He squeezes my hand. “I’m glad we didn’t tell our makers that they’re the ones Kashmir wants. They would’ve wanted to go in our places.”
“Monroe would. Not sure about Regina.”
He lets out a soft guffaw. “She would, too.”
“In a heartbeat?” I ask him, calling back to his own declaration.
Shane tilts his head, considering. “Maybe two or three heartbeats.”
We review the plan once more. Shane and I will enter unarmed through the front door, ostensibly surrendering. Adrian said their weapons are few and unsophisticated: no crossbows, only a stake or two among them. With their strength, they don’t need weapons. Any of them could probably rip off our heads in a split second. We’ll need every minute of our hand-to-hand combat training, if it comes to that.
The X factor is Mr. Crosetti. If he’s in thrall to Kashmir, he might fight on their side. Or maybe he just gave them the keys and went home, deciding to look the other way and figuring any blood spilled would flow from dead vampires, which are self-cleaning.
As we wait at the light to turn left on the road to Crosetti’s, Shane simply says, “I love you.” The finality in his voice snaps my heart in two.
“Don’t tell me that now. It sounds too much like good-bye.”
His silence says, Maybe it is good-bye.
We pull into the parking lot, where the white concrete glows a deep violet, reflecting the sky above. I check my watch again. Half an hour until morning twilight. It’s a ten-minute drive back to the station, so unless we can solve this problem quickly, we’ll be staying here tonight.
We get out of the car and the yellow porch light pops on. As Shane steps in front of me, I take his arm. “I love you, too.”
He stops, turns, then brings his mouth to mine. Our kiss is hard, brief, and open-eyed.
The front door creaks. “You forgot a someone or two.”
Kashmir stands with arms spanning the doorway, the top of which nearly brushes the crown of his head. Though the porch light is the gold of the supposedly bug-free variety, no warmth touches Kashmir’s visage. His hair is an unbroken waterfall of black flowing just past his shoulders and covering his forehead with perfectly straight bangs. His sharp cheekbones seem to slice the air around him. From here I can barely see the holy-water scar Deirdre spoke of. It truly is the size of a teardrop.
In almost brutal contrast to his ink-black tresses, his body is clothed in an all-white suit, not unlike the famous Elvis-in-Vegas outfit. But it lacks adornment, so with his height and slimness he doesn’t appear ridiculous. Stick a pair of wings on his back and he’d look like a fallen angel still using heaven’s wardrobe.
“I asked you to send your makers. I asked rather nicely, if I recall.”
“Ciara?” comes Marjorie’s voice behind him. “Ciara, are you there?”
Perfect, Mom. Make tons of noise so they don’t hear the Control agents who pulled to the side of the road a half mile away and are hopefully booking it over here right now.
“I’m here, Mom!” I want to say something soothing, but I’m afraid it’ll work too well and she’ll qui
et. “It’s me they want, not you.”
“You can’t have her, you fucking bastards!”
I’ve never heard my mother say so much as “hell.” I guess prison has changed her more than I thought.
Despite her yelling, Kashmir’s gaze doesn’t shift from our faces. It’s as if we’re the only three people in the world.
Mom’s protest pitches up, then muffles, as if she’s been gagged. Damn it.
“Shane’s here, too, Mom,” I tell her. “He won’t let them hurt me, and he won’t let them hurt you.”
“That’s right,” Shane says. “We’re here to get everyone out safely.”
She says something that sounds like “I’m sorry” but without consonants.
“Have you showed her your fangs yet?” I ask Kashmir softly.
He shakes his head. “Not necessary. All I needed to convince her to get in the car were these.” He points to his amber-colored eyes. Even on me, a fellow vampire, they have a mesmerizing effect. I focus on the bridge of his nose instead.
“Please, come in.” He steps back, bowing slightly.
We stride down the walk, passing sample headstones of every size, shape, and shade, all engraved with MILLER (the most common surname in this county, on account of all the mills). We’re too close to the small brick building now to see if Captains Fox and Henley and Agent Rosso have arrived. We’ll have to trust them.
Shane crosses the threshold first, stopping to check for an ambush behind the door. But everyone’s inside: Kashmir, Billy, Bruce, and Leon.
And my mom, gagged and bound to a chair by her arms and ankles.
I run toward her. I can’t help it.
Kashmir grabs me by the throat, in a movement so deft, it was as if he were picking up a saltshaker. He swings me backward, into Billy’s arms. Bruce and Leon seize Shane, and just like that, Kashmir and the Magnificent Seven Minus Four have three hostages.
This is part of the plan, I remind myself. I force my breath to stay steady.
But that breath brings one distinct scent that floods my brain and sears my veins.
Blood.
Not from my mother, though the rope is scraping her ankles. This is from a wound that must have flowed like a waterfall. It’s all over Billy behind me—his mouth and neck.
Lust for Life Page 18
