by Judy Mills
I ignored the creeped out feeling that brushed across the back of my neck. "The FBI moved Cooper this morning. Where did they take him?"
"An answer for an answer. What has changed in you?"
A wave of heat ran through me and my stomach knotted. There was no way he could know what had happened. He was fishing for information and I was being paranoid. "Where have they taken Cooper?"
"Something about you has always intrigued me. Now I am nearly uncontrollably compelled to protect you. Why?"
My patience evaporated. "Where, Bellmonte?" I snarled, a growl edging my voice.
Understanding bloomed over the vampire's face. He smiled—a chillingly beautiful thing. "You shifted. How unexpected."
I'd had enough. "How about I fill you with enough poison to incapacitate you for the night? One of these pricey chairs of yours ought to smash through the protective shields on your windows without too much problem. Presto. No more Regent."
He gave me a reproachful look. "I really wish they'd bring back finishing schools. The education would do you a world of good."
"I can almost smell your flesh boiling now."
Bellmonte gave an exaggerated sigh. "Mr. Daine was taken to the current location of Santos' factory."
Was it really that easy? In a pig's eye. This was Bellmonte. Nothing was ever as it seemed. "How do you know?"
"In my world, to trust your supposed superior is to live an unpleasantly short and unprofitable life. I make it my business to keep an eye on him."
"This factory. It's where he's making the drugs?"
"No, the garden gnomes." He swirled his brandy around in the snifter as if he found the entire subject deadly boring. "In addition to having your sweetheart, Santos has procured another tasty morsel that might interest you." A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "Your friend's clever child."
I frowned, not sure what the hell he was talking about. Understanding hit me like a fist to the stomach. "Chiwa?" Oh no.
"Apparently the little practitioner decided to take her fate into her own hands. She snuck away with her invitation letter to the up and coming school for the damned. Was immediately welcomed, of course. She's probably preparing for the ceremony as we speak."
She'd figured out her friend was in danger and she'd gone to save her, the little idiot. My God, she reminded me so much of me at her age. Wait a minute--
"What ceremony?" I asked, scowling.
Bellmonte gave a delicate yawn and placed his drink on the table next to him. "The trail she left for you to follow was quite well done. My people erased it, of course."
Panic rose into my chest, making my heart pound. "Is Cooper there? Are they in danger?"
"My dear, he is the center piece of the whole thing. Without paranormal blood, the dimensional magic that changes V into VR is impossible." Disgust rippled across his normally indifferent expression. "This will be an exceptionally powerful batch, thanks to your wolf's contribution."
He gracefully got up from the chair like he owned the world. "If you shoot me, you'll never know the location of the factory." He opened his arms and showed his teeth in a wide smile.
"You forget who's doing the threatening." I fired a warning shot into the cushions and he didn't even flinch. Hatred roared in my ears, which was stupid. Resenting Bellmonte's callus selfishness was like hating a copperhead for striking at you when you encroached on its territory. They might kill you, but it wasn't personal. Just in their nature.
Bellmonte strolled toward the elevator. He got aboard and his cold grey-blue gaze bore into mine. He had me and he knew it.
"By tomorrow morning your lover will be dead," he said. "Santos' operation will be out of the country, and your young practitioner will be beyond your reach forever along with the rest."
The elevator doors started to close. "Feel free to help yourself to the brandy."
I glared at the closed doors, frustration, anger and worry rolling under my ribs in hot, nauseous madness. I stalked to the brandy snifter, grabbed it and threw it against one of the barricaded windows as hard as I could.
The glass exploded, showering the carpet and window in brandy-soaked shards of glass. Despair beat down on me. Now what? I'd failed.
I looked down. A slip of paper rested on the table where the snifter had been. More mocking from Bellmonte?
Picking it up, I tentatively opened the note. Scrawled in tight, old-fashioned handwriting was an address.
He was using me to do his dirty work, the bastard. If it meant saving Cooper, I had no problem with that.
* * *
Dusk had faded into night, filling the air with the chatter of insects and the crisp scent of coming autumn. I hunched down closer to the pile of debris the yard crew had left at the bottom of the property belonging to the address Bellmonte had given me.
A monstrous, medieval-looking mansion glowered down from the slight rise of the hill like something out of a cheesy horror movie. Whatever else this Santos Navarro guy was, understated wasn't on the list.
Marc crouched down next to me. "Looks like fun."
Constructed of rough cut sandstone, the mansion slash castle had once belonged to a notorious 1930's bootlegger. According to the blueprints Falcon had illegally downloaded, a maze of tunnels ran under it as well as a mind-boggling number of what seemed to be secret passages. Great for sneaking around. Bad if you needed to find people and get them out.
"I saw only four guards patrolling around the house," I said, noting the two that had just passed. They wore the same black fatigues as the others and also carried no obvious weapons. "Probably vampires."
One of the joys of working against vamps. Their pride was always their Achilles heel. In their minds one of them could take on a dozen Weres and three times that many humans without breaking a sweat.
"There's also a boatload of mega spells woven around the outside of the house," I told him. "The decorative wrought iron on the front windows alone is an intruder fry baby waiting to happen."
"Four more guards are stationed at lookout points in the top windows," Marc noted. "I'll deal with them after the ground crew."
"They're only a problem if he's being held on the top floor. My bet's on the tunnel system."
"And when they come down on top of you, do I get to say 'I told you so'?" Marc said, amusement dusted through his gravely voice.
"Point taken."
"When you hear screaming, don't look back. Go as fast as you can for the access point."
"You sound confident no one will stop me."
His eyes flashed green in the moonlight. "I am."
All righty then.
With a nod, Marc headed for the front. I concentrated on keeping my breathing steady so that I'd be ready to move. The minutes seemed like hours and worry gnawed at my gut. What if something happened to Marc? Could I afford to wait for whatever he had planned?
My heart urged me to move. To find Cooper and Chiwa and get them out. My head ordered me to stick with the plan. Marc looked like he could handle himself, and Cooper's safety was as much of a priority for him as it was of me. I had to trust him.
I was about to change my mind when a roar split the night, cutting straight through logic to a dark primitive place in my brain. Panic shot through me and I froze. The roar came again and a man screamed, a sound of complete and horrible terror, cut off abruptly.
Realizing I was hyperventilating, I unclenched my teeth and told myself to exhale. Marc was doing his part. I needed to do mine. I pulled in a long slow breath.
Another inhuman scream sliced through the darkness, cut off abruptly. I darted away from my cover and raced for the crumbling tower on the back East side of the house.
Once the structure had protected the bootlegger's outlawed inventory. Now it was my access point to the tunnels that had perviously been used to get the booze into the house. The guy had been known for his parties.
It took me a few minutes to spot the cellar grate Falcon had pointed out to me on the blueprints. Weeds
had grown up around it and the tower blocked the moonlight, making the shadows thick and inky on this side. Good for hiding, bad for seeing.
I probably never would have found it if it hadn't been for the smell of cold, musty stone drifting through the thick iron bars of the half grate. Crouching down next to it, I took out the upgraded magical field disrupter, shielded my head with my other arm and treated the window to a dose.
The special filaments wired into the remote fizzed and sputtered and the hazardous energy coming off the bars popped like a bubble. Pocketing the MFD, I grabbed one of the iron bars and braced for impact. Like Falcon had said, it was a prototype.
When I didn't get fried, I released the breath I'd been holding and slipped my laser cutter out of the top pocket of my vest. A handy tool not much bigger than an ink pen, the cutter shot out a thin, red beam when I flicked it on, and I sliced through the edges of the iron bars like they were butter.
Pocketing the cutter, I slid the grate out as quietly as I could and put it aside, though still within easy reach once I was in. I slid feet first into the cellar, a drop of only about four feet, just as Falcon had predicted. Retrieving the bars, I eased them back into position and made sure everything matched up. With luck, the magic would come back up in a few minutes and no one would ever know the fortress had been breached.
I moved deeper into the cellar, surrounded by the sweet, tangy scent of wine that still permeated the empty shelves and walls. Visions of banquets and weddings with jazz bands and elegantly dressed people raising their glasses to toast everyone's happiness filled my imagination as I crept to the heavy wooden door on the other side.
The information Falcon was able to get stopped here. From this point on, the mission became one of skill and chance. I had no way to know how many guards Navarro kept in the house, where he was making the drugs, or where Cooper, Chiwa and the other kids might be. All I could do was pray, keep moving, and not get killed.
I listened for a moment at the door and then slipped into the hall.
* * *
The tunnels running under the mansion were dank and dimly lit, but surprisingly free of rats and the ick they so generously left behind. No rats meant the tunnels were used—probably often. The last thing I needed was to run into a guard...or three. Definitely not on my To Do list.
I slid a look around a corner, saw it was clear and crept forward past a row of empty cells. A familiar scent hit me and my knees nearly buckled. Cooper.
My gaze ran over the eight by eight cell with its narrow bed and rusty bedpan. Blood stained the thin mattress of the cot and the floor under, making anger burn in my throat.
Cooper had been held in this cell without medical attention. Probably collared so he couldn't shift and heal himself or fight his way out.
I wanted to hunt down everyone who had hurt him and kill them. I wanted to feel Navarro's neck under my knife. I wanted to—
I needed to focus. Stay on the mission. There would be time later for revenge, after Cooper and Chiwa were safe.
I grabbed the cluster of keys hanging on the wall and tore off the sleeve of my black T-shirt. If they brought him back, they'd have a hard time locking him in. Maybe it would give him a chance.
Wrapping the keys in the material to keep them from clanking, I stuffed the bundle into another pocket in my vest and moved on, heading steadily up and praying I remembered the blueprint well enough to keep from going in circles.
I struggled to stay centered, my imagination tormenting me with what Cooper had endured in that cell. Later would come soon, I promised myself.
Navarro would pay.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I held my breath and pressed tightly against the wall of the room I'd ducked into. On the other side, another pair of guards ran down the hall. They were the third near miss in the last twenty minutes.
I was one floor below what should be the center of the house—the area that had been gutted to create a garrison during the war. Two hundred vampires had been burned alive in their coffins in a counterstrike there. I couldn't help seeing the irony of the place being inhabited again by vamps bent on destroying humans. Maybe history does repeat itself.
When the hall outside my hiding place stayed quiet for a solid three minutes, I took a chance and opened the door a crack to see if the coast was clear. No vamps were within sight or earshot, so I glided cautiously out.
As quietly as I could, I headed for the stairs I'd spotted when I'd heard the guards coming down. When I reached the first step, the faint sound of high-pitched chanting raised the hair on the back of my neck.
A squeamish repulsion crawled down my back. The ceremony had started.
The energy of dark magic was heavy and charged with hate, and anyone with an ounce of sense stayed away from it. Even during the attacks it had been used sparingly. Without a sacrifice, it drained the practitioner of life. With a sacrifice, it slowly leeched power from their soul.
I took the stairs, hurrying toward the sound, a choking feeling of dread compressing my throat. The narrow doorway at the top opened onto an empty wooden walkway that ran around the walls of a cavernous three story room. Built about ten feet from the ceiling, and still smelling faintly of pine, the construction looked recent.
Suspended at eye-level, Cooper hung spread eagle by chains attached to his wrists and ankles. Bruises and cuts covered his face. His jaw was swollen. Metal stakes had been pushed into his bullet wounds to keep them open, one in his thigh and one in his side. My stomach rolled with nausea and fear gripped me.
He was unconscious and looked to be barely holding on. The only indication he wasn't already dead was the steady dripping of the blood from his wounds.
Below him a circle of children, some dressed in black body suits, others in blood red robes swayed to the rhythm of their chanting. An obscene and unnecessary drama—the raw adolescent energy the young practitioners generated was the real power.
In the middle of the circle, a shallow vortex simmered like a sluggish living fog, oozing through dozens of rows of beakers full of clear liquid. As every drop of Cooper's blood hit the vortex, the malevolent hunger of it churned and swirled around the spot as if consuming his life force one drop at a time.
Bellmonte hadn't lied. He'd lead us to the source of the VR.
Vampires stood at each of five entrances below, one apiece, their focus on the vortex and the steady rain of blood. I unhooked the coiled rope strapped to my back and snapped open the grappling hook attached to the end of it.
First priority, save Cooper.
A boy who looked no more than sixteen materialized next to me from out of nowhere. He was short with a stocky body thick with muscles and a swarthy complexion marked by scars as if he'd survived small pox as a child.
With a flash of movement too fast to follow, he grabbed my wrist and dislocated my thumb. The shock of pain exploded through me. My rope disappeared from my hands. Something brushed my hip and my gun was gone from my holster.
Santos Navarro stepped back, my rope and grappling hook in one hand and my gun in the other. A smile spread over his adolescent face, showing the gap in his teeth where his canines should be.
"Boo."
* * *
Dislocating a joint feels like your bone got snapped only worse. Ligaments, muscles, and tendons stretch and tear beyond what they're designed to do, sending a five alarm alert of agony radiating up your arm. Your brain freaks out. For the larger joints, some people lose consciousness.
When a nearly six hundred year old vampire was three feet away gloating, you sucked it up and took care of business.
The knuckle at the base of my thumb crunched as I popped it back into place. Without pausing, I went for the knife in my boot. I was slower than Navarro.
He disarmed me and nicked my ear with the blade as I shifted my weight to lunge at him with my now empty hand. My ear felt like he'd lit it on fire.
Real fear iced through my blood and I darted away, pressing my back against the wall to l
imit his access to me. Not that it would matter. I was completely outclassed and we both knew it.
I was about to die and I was helpless to stop it.
With a smirk of triumph, he looked me up and down. "A human hunter is the best Bellmonte can send against me? How sadly ineffective."
I watched him, my eyes wide, a thin trickle of blood running down the side of my neck. With a cocky flick of his wrist, he tossed the knife into the air end over end. He deftly caught it by the handle and the amulet around his neck bounced against his chest.
The medallion caught my attention. Old and made of what looked to be solid gold, it had an etching on it I'd seen before. A triangle with a circle in it.
Navarro had sent the assassins.
Fury heated through my heart, bubbling and popping as it burned away my instinctive fear of him. My shock vanished. I would still die. But I wouldn't go easily.
He studied my blood on the knife. "Remove your weapons, if you please."
"Where's Chiwa?" I demanded.
Navarro twitched and my holster fell to the floor, the strap cut. Blood welled up from the thin, stinging cut across my thigh.
"Remove your weapons."
Clenching my teeth, I obliged him, moving slowly as I studied him for any weakness I could exploit.
"You must mean the morsel that showed up on my doorstep just after I awoke," Navarro said. "A delightful child. Happily offered me her throat and then skipped off to join her sisters and brothers." He pointed the knife at my feet. "Boots, too."
He watched me remove my boots as if contemplating whether to make me strip all the way down. "Freely offer me your blood and I'll keep you safe. A guarantee your previous master has no hope of achieving."
"No, thanks. I can manage." I kicked away the last of my gear.
"Can you?"
The vampire stepped closer and inhaled my scent as if evaluating a fine wine. "Your werewolf lover dies to make me rich. Soon you will join him, easing my eternal hunger as your final gift to this world. As you fade away in ecstasy, take comfort knowing that all of your plans to stop me have failed."
