Chapter Twenty-Seven
January 28th, After Midnight, Airborne over Southern California
Hearing dulled by the roar of the engines, Red leaned against the metal cabinets in the flight attendant’s cramped hall. The small plane had leather interiors, an entertainment center, and even two couches. But she wasn’t in the mood to enjoy her first time on a private jet. It was Kristoff’s after all. Tugging her dark turtleneck higher, she glanced through the crack in the privacy curtain.
Dressed identically in black pants and armored vests, six minions played cards at a table while the master vampires perched pensively on couches and chairs. The green-haired female hadn’t come along.
Donal and Nedda huddled, their heads close in whispered conversation.
Delilah stared out the window, demon yellow shining in her irises.
Head bowed and fingers steepled, Kristoff sat in a standalone chair. He matched Red’s gaze through his eyelashes. The dim cabin lights cast his face in shadow.
Ducking her head back, Red was happier behind the curtain, pretending to be a stewardess on break. It was as close to a break as she’d had tonight. Hopefully Vic had better luck.
After white-knuckling it through a final strategy debrief of the plan to take out the Genesis Machine and free the captives, Red had a security van sent by Smith and Reaper to collect Vic. The Millennium Falcon had looked puny as it tagged along behind, driven by another guard in a convoy to the Pump House. Red figured Vic would wake up on the way and have enough protection if the raid went south. She’d sent him a text to explain. After Trey’s execution, she wasn’t keeping him at Club Vltava. She was willing to fight beside Kristoff to save lives, but she wouldn’t trust him with Vic’s again.
The hour-long plane ride felt like eternity as they flew into enemy territory. They were the first of three waves of attackers. The souled vampires from LA would come second. Cora had given permission to Prince Marek to send men into her territory with the promise of secrecy. Even the Blood Alliance couldn’t know. Red was supposed to use her magical knowledge to disable the Dague’s device, then flee the tunnels to wait for backup. It felt more like a last stand than a raid. Even through her leather jacket, the chill probed her as the plane soared above the clouds. Her dark thoughts didn’t help.
Half hidden by the curtain, Kristoff walked toward her.
Red clenched her fists. Her jacket hid her goosebumps. They were all supposed to be on the same team, even had matching uniforms to prove it, but he had more on his agenda than stopping the Dague.
Kristoff leaned on the cabinets opposite her. He pulled ear plugs out of his ears.
All the vampires had them in. Red guessed the ambient noises of the plane must have been hell on supernatural hearing. Good.
“You know if we are to fight together, you’ll have to look at me.”
“I’ll have other vampires to look at. These ones I can kill. Legally.” Her eyes drifted over him. “Accidents do happen.”
Kristoff was suddenly in front of her. “You forget who I am.”
“I thought you liked it when I threatened you. Part of our fun dynamic.” Red forced herself to not react to his speed. She had relied on him in this investigation. That false security had died with Trey. “Are threats not so cute now that I could actually hurt you?”
He arched his eyebrow. “You know things are different between us, after what we learned about each other. I put more than my trust on the line.”
She shook her head. Revealing his dark gift would make him the target for any mage, human, or demon who wanted his blood. That was leverage that she put a pin in. She could barely look at him, but she’d still have to fight with him. There were too many lives at risk to let her feelings jeopardize the plan. “Worry about the burrowers. They’re more likely to kill you tonight.”
The flight attendant peeked around the curtain at them. She looked like a normal stewardess, from her navy-blue skirt to her polished brunette updo, all except for the armored vest on her unbreathing chest. “We are landing soon. We need everyone seated.”
Red walked past her and belted herself in a standalone chair between the two groups of vampires.
Kristoff sat on the couch, putting his ear plugs back in before looking away.
Red glued her eyes to the oval window. The smell of dying fish crept into the dry air of the interior.
Flying over the dark Salton Sea, the plane landed on a bare landing strip cut into the desert. On the edge, a lone vintage trailer shined like a silver bullet in the moonlight. It was dwarfed by a nearby barn. A small airplane graveyard of old crop dusters and vintage two-seater crafts stood behind it.
Red unbelted herself and walked to the flight attendant behind the curtain separating the passenger side of the cabin. “I need to be the first one off. Keep everyone else on until I talk to the ground support here.”
“Ground support?” The flight attendant raised her eyebrow. “That looks like a meth lab.”
“Probably in another life.” Red shrugged, gesturing for the exit. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we come back.”
She sighed and hurried to open the door.
Kristoff strode to Red, leaning on the metal cabinets on the exit way. “Let me walk with you.
“You heard the supreme better than I did. I’m not going with a vampire. It was a struggle getting this hunter to agree to let us fly here.” Avoiding his gaze, Red crossed her arms. “Keep an eye out.”
“If you need me, yell quicker this time,” Kristoff said dryly, turning around.
Putting a hand on her heart, Red tried to center self and breathe deep. This was the first step on a path that lead straight to a warren filled with the Dague and their burrower allies. All the breathing techniques she’d learned in therapy escaped her for a moment. She squared her shoulders. If she couldn’t Zen her way through it, she’d barrel through it.
After the chartered plane’s stairs rolled down with a CEO’s flourish, Red descended. A winter wind whipped across the sand. The dark horizon held a deceptive peace. They had come to break the illusion. She put up her hands as she walked around the nose of the plane. The silver airstream trailer came into view. Two men rose from creaking lawn chairs on the cracked landing strip. At least one of them liked her.
Skinny and shiny, a Hispanic man stepped forward with his shotgun raised. A battered silver Spangenhelm rested on his brow, a thin band hanging down to protect his nose. A woven silver metal tunic lay over his shirt. The Budweiser was logo still visible through the links. “You human? Breathin’?”
“Yup. I’m breathing as we speak,” Red said, The guy looked like a redneck cosplay of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. “I got cargo to unload.”
“Yeah, you brought me the undead.” The man grumbled.
She inched her chin up to look at his companion in the Stetson. “Chuck, tell him what I brought.”
“Ease off, Xavier.” Chuck stepped forward. “It’s the right girl. Let the vampers pass.”
Red smiled at the old cowboy. She blamed the dust for the moisture welling in her eyes. This wasn’t an ordinary job. It took guts to take it up. And a lot of trust in her word. “Chuck, I never thought I’d get to do a job with you.”
“Retired doesn’t mean dead.” He hitched his thumb in the front pocket of his wranglers as he shook her hand. “I knew the fight was here.”
Xavier lowered his shotgun. “Tell them fangs that this is one night only. Destroy the sandpit and get the hell off my property.”
“Will do.” Red shot him a restless thumbs up. She had dealt with enough paranoid old hunters to know that getting out of their faces was the best way to deal with them. “Thanks for getting us the radar maps. The supreme appreciates it.”
Xavier spit, the helmet banging against his forehead from the force of his loogie. “She can appreciate my nuts for all I care. I did it because those vamps are clearing out the desert. Get on now.”
Red turned, gesturing for Chuck to follow her.
“We have two supremes sending convoys of fighters, but they won’t get here for two hours yet. It’s just us until then. Any movement from the tunnels since we’ve been in the air?”
Chuck walked beside her, around the small jet. “None that we can tell. Did a drone flyover as low as we dared. They have a few scattered guards about a quarter mile away from the burrow. I have hunters watching the highways for reinforcements. Some were mighty excited to know it was open season on vamps.”
“These vamps aren’t playing by the old catch and release rule.” Red shook her head. “It could get sticky.”
“That’s the hunter’s fight for you.” Chuck puffed his white mustache up as he slowed, approaching an old truck parked on the landing strip. “The way I see it, LA has more souled vampires than anywhere else in this great country. They’ve been dieting on animal blood for decades, too. If we don’t stop them by the sea, the blood’s going to wash ashore when they unleash those demons.”
“We’ll stop them.” Red bobbed her head. They were the first strike on the burrows, but more followed. They just had to survive long enough to destroy the lab and free the prisoners until Cora and Prince Marek’s men arrived. It sounded just as tough in her head as it was. She tried to keep the quaver out of her voice. “You two should still head off though.”
“I’ll stay. I reckon your plane might just need defenders.” Chuck gazed at the beat-up Ford silhouetted in the desert shadows. “Take my old beater truck. I don’t expect I’ll see Vera again.”
“If I can’t bring her back…” Red bit her lip. She knew Cora could flash around money, but a hunter and their wheels were like a knight and his trusty steed.
“She’ll go to Valhalla,” Chuck finished and handed her the keys. He hooked his steely, practical gaze on her. “This might be adios, kiddo. I heard about your hunter’s challenge, and I’m telling you I don’t need to see it to know you’re one of us.”
“Thank you.” Red coughed to cover the tears welling in her throat. “Means a lot to hear that.” It was an understatement, but she didn’t have the time to tell him that if she had brothers like him, she didn’t need the Brotherhood.
He backed away, tipping his cowboy hat up. His aged eyes narrowed on the private jet. “Time to release the hounds.”
“Stay safe, Chuck.” Red nodded to the old timer before walking to the truck. Waiting until the hunter had disappeared around the other side of the plane, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called out. “Get on the bus. We’re rolling out.”
A blur tugged the keys from her hand. Nedda paused and smiled. “I’m driving.”
“I call shot gun then.” Sighing, Red jogged to get to the passenger side. She didn’t get it. Instead, she ended up perched on the middle console between Delilah and Nedda in the cab of the truck. The hard plastic dug into her ass with each bump from the rugged terrain.
It was better than being crammed in the back where Donal and Kristoff hung on with their six minions and cache of weapons. Hushed, the black-clad group hunkered in the truck bed. The miles felt like inches as they trekked closer to undead-built tunnels by a man-made sea.
Driving through the desert without headlamps, Nedda wove between the stunted cacti and rolling tumbleweeds by the light of the last quarter moon. Her narrowed hazel eyes focused on the horizon like she could already see her lost love.
Delilah stared down at her dimmed phone screen, reading out directions in a flat voice and following the blue dot marking their location on the map. Her usual loose blond curls were pulled into a thick braid. When she looked up, murder reflected on her face.
Red had expected bickering over the route, but the two vampires had fallen into a grim alliance. Only the crunch of desert under their tires broke the silence.
A flash of yellow glinted in the gloom from behind a dead slumping palm tree.
“Ooo, a guard.” Nedda piped up, hunching over the steering wheel, gunning the engine.
Delilah chuckled darkly.
Leaping at the truck, the vampire hissed, climbing over the hood. His boots dented the metal with a thump. A ripped brown leather vest flapped around his bare chest. His chin looked like he had scratched it raw in patches.
Flinching, Red instinctively put her hand on her hunter’s kit but stopped herself. Popping off a wooden bullet would announce them to the entire desert.
Grinning, Nedda jerked the steering wheel to shake the hitchhiker loose. The attacker rolled into the desert, kicking up dust.
Kristoff jumped out of the truck bed to tackle the burrower. Knees digging into the sand, he leaned over to twist the neck. Until they were forced into an open fight, they were on firm orders not to stake anyone, betting that at least one of the guards had a sire in the tunnels to sense a death. A cracked neck wouldn’t kill a vampire, but it wasn’t something that they could walk off. He dragged it into a mass of dead bushes and kicked the foot deeper under the thorns.
Red let out her held breath when Vera the truck shuddered to a stop, the engine huffing like it felt out of shape.
“I guess this is where were we go on foot,” Nedda said brightly, as if she had found a good parking spot at the mall.
Donal passed out semiautomatic guns from the truck bed like they were beers at a football game. A feralness pinched his expression in the partial moonlight.
Red filed out of the truck cab and lurked behind the huddle of ten vampires. The six minions stared at Kristoff with rapt attention. The masters were more distracted. Donal watched the horizon while Delilah and Nedda shared a look of secret communication. The group had felt bigger on the plane. They were only a small dot in a wide desert.
“We’ve reached their patrol line. This won’t be the last guard,” Kristoff said, brushing the beige dust off his black sleeves. “After this, no one talks. Stay in eyeshot in small groups. On this flat terrain, they’ll spot us in a clump, so spread out. Incapacitate and hide any guard that tries to stop you from getting to the east entrance. Wait for the others. Our target is the lab where they are keeping the prisoners. We extract them, grenade the place when we leave, and nothing more until backup arrives. They know these tunnels better than us, so if they get a jump on you, keep your finger off the trigger. We’re sneaking in. Save your ammo for blasting us out.”
The minions split off in pairs, darting into the gloom. Delilah and Nedda, semiautomatics hoisted, dashed after them.
Clapping Kristoff on the shoulder, Donal shot Red a side eye. “I’m not waiting for your human, Kristoff. It’ll take forever at her pace.” He shot off to follow the rest, disappearing into the desert shadows.
Red opened her mouth to argue, but Donal was long gone. Gritting her teeth, she pulled out her phone to orient herself on the pre-downloaded map. It wrecked her night vision, making her squint.
“I’m better than a compass,” Kristoff whispered. He marched ahead through the scattered brush, weapon raised.
Turning her phone off and slipping it back into the zippered pocket inside her jacket, she stomped after him. Her snubby revolver might not have packed the same heat as his shotgun, but it didn’t weigh her down. She pulled out a stake from the hunter’s kit strapped to her thigh and slipped it into the wrist strap under her sleeve. Her kit was tricked out for a vampire fight. She had filled it with vials of holy water, a cross plated with blessed silver, and extra rounds of wooden bullets. Red would need them all tonight.
As they hiked in silence toward the hidden burrow, Red felt like she had to be the loudest thing in this stretch of desert. The arid wind dried her throat. She wished she could have brought water, but a sloshing bottle would have only added to her accidental mortal cacophony. Her breath rattled in her lungs. Her heart pounded. Her creeping feet seemed to find every patch of crunchy gravel. She glowered at the vampire who walked soundlessly in front of her.
Kristoff stopped and nudged her with his elbow, nodding at the livestock pen rising indistinctly from dark underbrush. He turned to walk toward it, then started to jog.
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Red ran to keep up with him. The dedicated weathered fence posts leaned in a broken yet determined rectangle near three dead desert willows. She squinted; her night vision had sharpened, but she couldn’t see why Kristoff had left the direction of the east entrance. Slipping her third eye open, she saw a burnished yellow aura glimmering in the distance. No trace of darkness marred its shine. She ran a few yards before her mundane sight caught up. Sal.
Sitting on the ground, Sal watched them approach. Guilt hung heavy on his brow under the crescent moon. His aura glittered golden like a pure soul. He was her friend again. Arms stretched out and bound in silver to the T-shaped hitching post, smoke curled from his skin. Old dark stains mottled his ripped jersey. He had been retaken by the Dague, and the reunion looked like a hard one.
Scurrying between the broken fencing, Red knelt by Sal. His bindings were silver-plated straps, tied fast with belt-like clasps. She studied his hooded brown eyes.
He seemed to have to force himself to look at her. “Red, you shouldn’t be here.”
She unclasped the silver bonds belted on Sal’s arms, ignoring Kristoff’s piercing gaze. “Well, you made the burrows sound so cool.”
“Then you misheard me.” His arms dropped. Sucking in a pained breath, Sal bowed his head. “Ya’ll should be dropping a bomb on this place.”
“Totally agree.” Smiling, Red put a hand on his shoulder. Finding him whole felt like a good omen. She hadn’t thought she would see his soul again. “Can you stand?”
Pushing himself up using the post, Sal got to his feet. “They gave my soul back when Quinn told them I snitched. Left me to meet the sun.”
She avoided the silver burns on his arms as she helped him find his balance. “Then it’s good that we came along.”
“Red, I tried to kill you.” Sal put a shaking hand on her upper arm. “I’m sorry.”
Biting her lip, Red nodded and waved his apology away. As far as she was concerned, everything he had done was on the Dague’s head. She was just happy to have her friend back. “Water under the bridge. You weren’t yourself.”
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