Out of the Night

by Robin T. Popp

  With quick, angry movements, Lanie folded a dirty shirt and stuffed it into the bag, hearing Dirk’s voice from the other room. There was a brief exchange of words, too soft for Lanie to catch, and then Dirk came bustling through the connecting doors, hauling a small dog carrier with him.

  “I brought you a present,” he told her, stopping short when he saw the open duffel bag. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Home—apparently.” She muttered the last word under her breath.

  Dirk’s surprise seemed genuine, and she felt better knowing that the two men had not conspired against her. Dirk wasn’t stupid, though, and after a quick glance back at Mac, he seemed to understand. “When do you leave?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t—”

  “You’re on the one o’clock flight.”

  She waved a hand at Mac but addressed Dirk. “Well, there you go. I’m on the one o’clock flight.” She gave him a too-bright smile, then pinned Mac with an accusing glare before wadding a pair of pants into a ball and shoving them inside the bag.

  She was as mad at herself as she was at Mac. Love, she scoffed. Who was she kidding? Love happened in fairy tales; it wasn’t real. Oh, but the pain of it was, she thought, knowing that somehow, she’d have to get over this and move on with her life.

  If only it was that easy.

  She saw Dirk glance back and forth between her and Mac before setting the small carrier on the floor by the dresser. “I thought this carrier would make a nice bed for Gem,” he said. “I guess it’ll make a good travel carrier as well.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him a grateful smile and then crossed to the closet, ignoring Mac, who stood watching her from the open doorway. There weren’t many clothes hanging up, so fortunately she was able to grab them all. As she started back to the bed, she noticed one of the items in her hand was the dress from the night of the reception. She pulled it out from the other clothes and held it up. She loved the dress, but there was no way she could ever wear it again and not be reminded of Mac. She gave him a pointed look and, very purposefully, walked back to the closet and hung it up.

  She resumed her packing, ignoring the two men, doing her best to look busy. Luckily, they returned to Mac’s room just as she ran out of things to pack.

  Lanie didn’t even try to listen in. Instead, she plopped herself down beside the duffel bag and took a deep breath. At some point, as she sat there, the hotel staff came to replace the door. They went about it as if it were no more unusual than bringing fresh towels. Lanie thought that might have something to do with the admiral’s sizable financial contribution.

  By the time the hotel staff left, her anger had worn off, leaving only hurt in its wake. A small gurgling sound caught her attention, and she looked around to see the small chupacabra amble over to her.

  “Hey, girl,” she said softly, rubbing the smooth, hairless hide of Gem’s neck. “You know what it’s like to lose a loved one, don’t you?” She thought of the adult creature, by itself, alone and dying. “I guess it’s just you and me from now on.” She tried to look at Gem objectively. “I don’t suppose my neighbors will believe me if I tell them you’re a new breed of South American kangaroo?” Maybe she should consider moving out to the country, she thought.

  Rising from the bed, Gem still in her arms, Lanie grabbed a bag of blood from the desk. She carried Gem into the bathroom, placed her in the tub with the bag, and waited as the little chupacabra drank. When Gem was finished, Lanie rinsed away the spilled blood and then carried her back into the bedroom.

  There was little left for her to pack, so rather than finish immediately, she opened her curtains and sat down in the corner armchair. Gem hopped into her lap and, as Lanie began stroking her head, emitted a soothing purring noise. Together, they watched the sun rise.

  The sound of the phone ringing woke Lanie sometime later, and muscles stiff from having slept at an awkward angle, she had trouble getting out of the chair to answer it. In her arms she still clutched Gem, now looking like a rather large gargoyle statue. Setting her down on the bed, she reached for the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Weber? This is the front desk with your wake-up call,” the too-pleasant voice on the other end of the line replied.

  “My what?” Lanie was confused.

  “Your wake-up call. Mr. Knight placed the request a couple of hours ago. He said you had a plane to catch. We have a car ready to take you to the airport where, I’m told, there is a ticket waiting in your name. Will you need a bellhop to help with your bags?”

  It took several moments for Lanie’s foggy brain to register what she was being told. Mac had taken care of everything. She guessed he didn’t want to take any chances that she would stay. Well, no worries there. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ve changed my mind and decided to stay.”

  “Oh.” The woman’s worried tone concerned her.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Well, it’s just that your room has already been reassigned to someone else.” The woman was clearly flustered.

  “You rented my room to someone else? Who?”

  “I’m sorry. We’re not at liberty to say.”

  Lanie stared at the wall, doing her best to bring her emotions under control. “Okay, look, that’s fine. Do you have any other rooms available? I’ll take one of those.”

  Immediately the woman’s tone brightened. “Yes. I can put you on the fifth floor.”

  “Great.”

  “I’ll need a credit card.”

  “I’m on my way down.”

  She hung up the phone, feeling irritated yet defiant. She wasn’t going to let Mac force her to leave. Digging in her purse for her “emergencies only” credit card, she pulled it out, feeling victorious. Just let that man try to tell her what to do, she silently challenged. She’d stay as long as she damn well wanted to—or at least as long as she could. She held the card up and studied it, as if she might find the amount of her remaining available credit balance stamped somewhere on the surface.

  Surely there was enough for one night, and that’s all she’d need to make her point. She grabbed her key card and went down to the lobby. It didn’t take long to register, and with the key to her new room in hand, she returned to the old one to begin transferring her few belongings.

  She did a final check of clothes and toiletries and was about to close her duffel bag when her eyes strayed to the closet—and the dress still hanging inside. Exasperated with herself, she went over and got it. “This does not mean I’m keeping it,” she argued to herself. “I’m simply going to hold on to it until I’ve had a chance to consider the matter and make a less-emotional decision.” She folded the dress and placed it on top of the other clothes. “Besides, I can always throw it out later.”

  She looked around the room once again and saw there was nothing left to pack, so she zipped up her bag. She pulled her father’s suitcase and laptop from the closet and stood them next to her duffel bag and purse. Next, she picked up Gem, now looking like an exceptionally large paperweight, and placed her inside the carrier, closing the door.

  She was ready. She looked about, trying to decide the best way to carry all her things, when there was a knock at her door. Her first thought was that the balance on the credit card hadn’t been enough. She grabbed her wallet, just in case, and then opened the door.

  The impact of a fist hitting her jaw sent her flying backward. Pain shot through her as she landed on the floor. She quickly scrambled back to her feet, trying to make sense of who was attacking her and why. The man, who clearly wasn’t the bellhop, didn’t seem interested in providing explanations as he moved rapidly and hit her once more. This time she fell against the TV, knocking it askew.

  When she straightened and tried to run for the other side of the room, he tackled her to the floor and pinned her. She struck at him with her fists and kicked her feet, desperately trying to get away, but to no avail.

  She opened her mouth to scream but never got the ch
ance. She saw the fist coming at her and felt the pain. Then there was nothing.

  Mac and Dirk had left while Lanie was sleeping. Mac had made arrangements to get her to the airport, fighting the urge to wake her and explain how he really felt. Only the unknown of the future kept him from doing it. If he and Dirk couldn’t find Burton, or couldn’t kill him, then they’d never be safe. He didn’t want her constantly having to look over her shoulder, which was the life he had ahead of him if he failed tonight. It would be better for her to hate him and get on with her own life.

  With thoughts of her roiling through his head, Mac had been poor company for Dirk. Now, hours later, they sat on the tarmac of the airfield at Camp David, watching the sun set on the horizon and waiting for the Secret Service to escort them to the main facility. From there, they’d spread out and look around for signs of Burton and his men. With luck, the Secret Service had taken Admiral Winslow’s instructions seriously and secured the President. Meanwhile, a look-alike was being flown in shortly, in hopes that they could still flush out the would-be assassins.

  His thoughts returning to Lanie, Mac wondered what kind of future they might have had together. He wasn’t the same man he was when he’d started this adventure. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t try to see her again. Returning to fly charters was out of the question, unless he took only the night flights. It was something he’d have to discuss with Keith and Sandra.

  Slowly, Mac realized that Dirk was talking to him. “What?”

  “I said, as soon as we get back, I’ll move my stuff into Lanie’s room—or rather my new room—and then we can decide what to do about Winslow’s offer.” He paused a moment. “Do you think he was serious?”

  “About joining his task force? Probably.”

  Dirk gave a soft chuckle. “Joining the task force, hell, man, we are the task force.”

  It was true. The admiral’s idea was to create a task force, funded by his family fortune and operated secretly. Its main objective—to track down and kill vampires.

  “Are you seriously considering it?”

  Dirk thought about it. “Yeah, I think I am. What about you?”

  “I don’t know,” Mac admitted. “Maybe. There are some things I need to take care of first.”

  Mac didn’t specifically say Lanie’s name, but he knew Dirk understood. The way he’d left things with her, he wasn’t sure she’d ever want to see him again.

  He felt his mood sinking lower still and drew on years of discipline to drive thoughts of her from his mind. Now wasn’t the time to let emotions get in the way.

  “Showtime,” he said when his phone rang. He pulled it out and then felt his heart lurch when he glanced at the caller ID.

  “Lanie? Is everything all right?”

  “Sorry, old man.” Burton’s laughter greeted him. “She can’t come to the phone right now. She’s a bit tied up.”

  Chapter 20

  If you harm her in any way,” Mac warned, filled with an impotent rage. “I’ll—”

  “What?” Burton mocked. “You’ll kill me?”

  “Where is she, Burton?”

  “She’s here—in my bed. I can well understand the attraction, Knight. In fact, I’m not sure that I’ll grow bored with her as quickly as with the others.” He laughed again, and it took everything in Mac not to react.

  “I want to talk to her,” Mac bit out. “Now.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then Lanie came on the line, sounding faint—and frightened. “Mac?” Her voice cracked when she said his name and he longed to hold her; to protect her.

  “I’m here, baby.”

  “I’m sorry, Mac.”

  “Be strong, Lanie. I’m coming to get you.”

  “No, don’t,” she begged. “Save the Pres—”

  There was the sound of a slap, followed by Lanie’s small cry, and Mac’s grip on the phone tightened until he thought it might break.

  “If you want to see your girlfriend again,” Burton said, coming back on, “then you’ll meet me—tonight.”

  “Where?”

  “Tell him where we are, sweet thing,” Mac heard Burton say. “He’ll never believe me if I tell him.”

  Lanie’s voice, sounding strained and defeated, came back on the line and she gave him a D.C. address. Mac swore beneath his breath. Burton had never left town.

  “Got it?” Burton asked, back on the phone.

  Mac glanced at his watch and did some quick math. “It’ll take me a couple of hours to get there.”

  “I’m sure we’ll find a way to keep ourselves amused until you arrive.”

  The phone went dead, and Mac gritted his teeth tightly together, trying to get his emotions under control. Finally, he forced himself to take a deep breath and relax. “He’s got Lanie.” Quickly he told Dirk everything.

  “No problem,” Dirk said. “You fly the plane back and take care of Lanie and Burton. I’ll stay here and deal with the assassins.”

  “You know it’s a trap.”

  “Sure, but for which one of us? Burton’s not even here, and we both know he’s the bigger threat. Chances are, he’s not alone. Worst case for me is that I’ve got two or three vampires to find and take out. Piece of cake. You, on the other hand . . .”

  Mac nodded. He didn’t need Dirk to spell out the dangers for him.

  “Be careful.” Dirk reached into his pocket, pulled out a set of keys, and tossed them to him.

  “You, too.” They shook hands and Dirk climbed out. Mac waited until he saw his friend standing clear of the plane before starting the engine. He called in the change of flight plans as he taxied down the short runway, and by the time he reached the end and lifted into the sky, he’d received clearance.

  The trip back to Washington, D.C., was the longest of his life. Thoughts of what Burton was doing to Lanie persecuted him, and it seemed that the plane couldn’t fly fast enough while the clock, counting down the minutes of Lanie’s life, ticked loudly in his head. He’d never felt so powerless in his life.

  Finally, Andrew’s Air Force Base came into view, and Mac landed without incident. Soon he was in Dirk’s car, racing toward the warehouse where Burton supposedly waited with Lanie. He didn’t park right out in front, hoping to preserve some small element of surprise. They might be expecting him, but they didn’t know exactly when he was arriving.

  He walked around the warehouse, keeping to the shadows, wondering how he could get in without being detected. There were no windows on the sides or rear of the warehouse, and it seemed that his only choice was going to be to storm the front doors. Then he spotted the metal rungs, attached to the outer wall in back—a type of fire escape.

  He climbed them to the roof where he found an access door to the inside, rusted and deformed by age and neglect. Grabbing the handle, he pulled it open as quietly as he could. It still creaked, but he hoped that any vampires waiting inside hadn’t noticed.

  Stepping inside, he paused to take in his surroundings. There were no lights on, but with his excellent night vision, that wasn’t a problem. He stood in the middle of a big open loft and, from below, caught the faint rumble of voices.

  Moving quietly, he followed the sound and soon found himself standing at the edge of an upper landing that opened to the floor below. The place reminded him of what once might have been a mechanic’s shop because old engine parts and empty oil cans littered the ground floor. Off to one side was a long mound of dirty oil rags, and on top of that, tied and gagged, was Lanie.

  “What’s taking him so long?” Mac heard Harris ask.

  “Be patient,” came Burton’s terse reply. “He’ll be here soon enough.”

  “Maybe you got it wrong,” Harris continued. “Maybe—”

  “Shut up,” a third voice hissed.

  Mac took a deep, silent breath. There were at least three vampires down there, which left two still unaccounted for. They could be here, or they could be at Camp David. He’d know which soon enough.

  He’d brou
ght his gun, but didn’t have enough bullets to decapitate all of them. Damn. He should have come better prepared, he thought, looking around for a pipe or forgotten tool, anything that could be used as a weapon. On the floor of the loft there were only wire cables, a few wood pallets, scattered trash, rat droppings, spiderwebs, and dirt. Not much to work with.

  As he considered how to break the pallets into stakes, he caught the barest whisper of a sound. He whirled around just in time to face a charging vampire. Mac had only time to recognize him as Smith before the impact of Smith’s tackle carried them both to the floor. Mac knew he was stronger than most humans, but he was astounded at how much stronger Smith was. It put Mac at a decided disadvantage.

  He closed his mind on his self-doubt. There was no room for it in battle.

  Within seconds, Smith, hissing like a wild animal, had him pinned to the ground and had turned his face into a punching bag. Mac was barely aware of the shouts from below and knew the others were on their way up to join the fight. There was no way he could fight them all.

  Bucking violently, he managed to catch Smith off balance. Shoving him off, Mac scrambled to his feet. As soon as Smith stood, Mac began his own assault, repeatedly hitting the man’s face and stomach. He knew that if he slowed down, gave the vampire any opening at all, he’d be in serious trouble.

  The fight moved dangerously close to the edge of the loft where wire cables threatened to entangle Mac’s feet with each step he took. Sounding much too close, he heard the other vampires running up the stairs. He was out of time.

  Diving for the floor, he tucked and rolled past Smith, catching the vampire off guard. When he came up, he had a cable clutched in one hand. Without pausing, he looped it around Smith’s neck and then shoved him off the platform.

  The thin cable became a noose around Smith’s neck as his falling body pulled it taut. The noose tightened, slicing through the vampire’s neck as easily as a wire cutter sliced through cheese. Smith’s head flew off in one direction, eyes still open wide in surprise, while his body fell, lifeless, to the floor below.