Authors: Kelley Armstrong
I sighed.
Cassandra looked at me. “You aren’t even going to glare at me for embarrassing you in front of Adam?”
“Only if you say something embarrassing.”
“And that isn’t?” She studied my face. “Interesting …”
“Moving right along,” I said. “I’d better call Lucas and see what he wants us to do.”
I didn’t need to. The moment I turned my cell back on, Lucas rang. He sounded exhausted—Dallas was not going well. He refused to elaborate, except to say that he really wished Benicio could have gotten in touch with our pilot to take us straight on to Dallas.
“We can be there in three hours,” Adam called from the front seat. “We’ll swing by and grab Aaron, then hit the highway.”
Lucas agreed that was wise. With the jet gone, driving would be fastest.
I just started mapping the new coordinates when Cassandra’s cell rang.
It was Aaron. I could tell by her tone when she answered. The two of them had met back in the nineteenth century. Lots of time together, followed by lots of time apart. Cass’s fault, naturally. They’d been friends for about six years again now, and I was sure they’d been lovers for a while. You could tell by the way she talked to him.
That softer tone didn’t last long this time. She quickly said, “I’m going to put you on speaker.”
“—rather you didn’t,” he was saying as she clicked it on.
“Too late,” I said.
He sighed. “Yeah. Probably need to, however much I hate the damned thing. Sounds like everyone’s talking in a submarine. You guys are still in town, then? Good. We have a problem.”
“Of course we do,” Cassandra murmured. “God forbid we might have wanted to relax for the night, have a glass of wine.”
“I’ll grab you some wine later, Cass,” Aaron said. “I saw a carton at a corner store. I’m sure it’s a great vintage. Now, the problem. Ten minutes ago, the Cabal tech guys intercepted a 911 call from Jordan’s office.”
It took me a second to remember that Jordan—Ron Jordan—was the target’s name.
Aaron continued. “It was one of his assistants. She said she’s working late and she’s sick, really sick. So is the guy working with her.”
“Damn it,” I said. “No family, so infect the staff. How many of them have gone home already?”
“I’m really trying not to think about that,” Aaron said. “I’m five minutes from the building, hoping no cops are around to pull me over.”
“The Cabal intercepted the call, right?” I said. “So the 911 dispatcher didn’t get it?”
“Unfortunately, it went through. The dispatcher sent an ambulance, but the Cabal was able to call 911 back from what seemed to be the same address. The guy said he was the assistant’s boyfriend, and he was getting them to the hospital himself.”
I told Aaron we’d meet him there.
*
Anyone who saw Aaron Darnell never wondered why Cassandra had hit on Clay all those years ago. Aaron was also a blond, well-built, good-looking guy. He was bigger and not as drop-dead-gorgeous, but they could have been siblings.
Jordan’s office was in the kind of building you’d expect for a wealthy lobbyist. Central location. Tall and modern, with lots of steel and glass. A reception desk staffed by security guards who would know at a glance whether you belonged there. I suspect they would have buzzed Cass in without her even flashing an ID badge, but we didn’t have to get past them. The Cabal team had infiltrated the building when they’d first begun monitoring Jordan. We met them in the parking garage and they let us in.
“Status check?” I said when we were on the elevator.
The team leader—Estrada—said, “We’ve established that the floor is clear. No other late night workers. The door to Jordan’s office is closed and locked. We’re not hearing anything from—”
He tilted his head, listening through his earpiece. His expression went grim.
“Strike that,” he said.
He hit the floor button beneath the one he’d selected. The team had set up earlier in an unoccupied suite over Jordan’s office, where they could drill down for sight and sound. They’d left when Jordan had, then hurried back after the call.
When the elevator stopped, he said, “This is Jordan’s floor. You folks go on up to 1104. Someone will meet you there.”
I started getting off behind him. “We’ll—”
Aaron stopped me. “Actually,” he said, “I’m going to second the SWAT guy. If Jordan’s staff is infected, I don’t think someone’s stuck them all with needles.”
“Viral, you mean.”
“Which is what this thing is supposed to be. Better let the SWAT guys and the vamps handle this. I’m not worried about getting a shot of werewolf DNA. I always thought they had more fun anyway.”
“You would,” Cassandra said.
They got off the elevator. I looked at Adam.
“They have a point but … Shit.” He glanced at me. “They’re right. Tough as it is to run for cover, I don’t want you getting whatever Bryce has. Don’t particularly want to get it myself either.”
The elevator doors started to close. I reached out to stop them.
“I agree about the not-getting-infected part. But we can watch from here, right? Safe distance?”
“Except the elevator is going to sound an alarm if we keep holding that door.” He prodded me off. “We stay here. Where’s the nearest stairwell if we need a quick getaway?”
I pointed to the Exit sign over a door beside us.
“Good.”
“God, we’re getting responsible,” I said.
He smiled. “Being careful just means we’ll live long enough to have more adventures.”
The team broke into Jordan’s office. I strained to hear, but only picked up footfalls and hushed instructions from Estrada.
Then a low moan came from the other end of the hall. I glanced around for any of our team, but they’d all disappeared into the office. Adam and I crept toward the sound.
“Help,” a voice rasped. “Please help.”
A young woman was making her way along the hall, leaning against the wall as she came. She was covered in blood. I started forward. Adam grabbed me.
She saw us, and her head lolled as she struggled to make eye contact.
“Puh-please help me.”
She kept shuffling along, leaving a smear of blood along the wall. Her arms and face were covered in deep gouges that oozed blood. Her legs were scratched up, too, her pantyhose in shreds.
Adam clamped a hand on my shoulder and backed me up. “We need to get help for her—”
The woman stopped and started scratching at her arm, her nails digging bloody furrows as she moaned, “It burns. It burns.”
I remembered the laboratory. The patient swathed from head to foot, desperately trying to scratch.
“She wasn’t attacked,” I whispered. “She’s infected. I’m getting help.”
I raced down the hall to the open office door and burst through. There were two people on the reception floor. One was a man in a suit, his shirt in shreds, torso covered in scratches, the bottom half a sodden bloody mess. The other was a guy barely out of his teens.
Aaron was holding the young man down as a team member bound his throat, the blood pumping so hard I knew he wasn’t going to make it. Aaron struggled to keep hold of his hands, both slick with blood. One got free and went straight for his own throat, clawing. Aaron managed to grab it before he did any more damage.
“Stay back, Savannah,” Aaron growled without looking up. Almost everyone was doing that—standing back. The team member binding the young man was gloved and masked. The others stood around, watching.
“There’s a woman in the hall,” I said. “She’s infected.” Estrada sent one of the team out after her.
“A woman called this in,” I said. “Where is she?”
“In here,” Cassandra called from the next room.
I found Cass prowling around a big office. On the floor lay
a woman a few years older than me, blond, dressed in a blouse and skirt. She was lying in a pool of blood.
“Did they shoot …?” Another step and my question was answered. The young woman’s face was partially changed, brow and nose misshapen, bloody teeth bared.
“The virus appears to have been more successful with her,” Cassandra said.
“Not if they were trying for invulnerability.”
“True, but I might suggest you step away. Just in case.”
I moved back fast. Cass opened the door to a private wash-room, poked her head in, and looked around.
“Looking for clues?” I said.
“I sense someone.” Vampires can detect signs of life. “It’s very faint, though. Someone not long for this world.”
“Still a potential hazard. Or someone who needs help.”
“My thoughts precisely. In that order, as well.” She left the office, still talking, expecting me to follow. “Is your sensing spell working, Savannah?”
“Let me give it a shot.”
I cast. It clicked on the first try. I could pick up the people in the reception area. No one else here, though—the spell doesn’t work on those without a heartbeat, like Cass. But there did seem to be something in the other direction. Faint, like she said.
I started walking that way. Cassandra swept in front of me. Halfway down the hall, she stopped and tilted her head. Then she pivoted toward a half-open door.
It was dark inside. She went first. I brought up the rear. As I stepped through, a figure lunged out behind Cass, appearing from the darkness. It stopped abruptly.
“Savannah,” a soft voice breathed. “Thank God, you’re here.”
Roni took one teetering step toward me, then collapsed on the floor.
We stayed with Roni as the Cabal medical team arrived and got busy, sedating the wounded and carrying them down to a waiting van. We brought Roni with us straight to the airport where the backup jet was now waiting. We’d been in touch with Lucas. The situation in Dallas was under control, so he wanted us to take these victims back to Miami.
We loaded the wounded and the dead into the cargo area. All except Roni.
As far as the medic could tell, she wasn’t showing any signs of infection. It looked as if the infected woman had started making a meal of her then got distracted, maybe by the tactical team bursting in. Roni was in rough shape. Really rough shape. She’d lost a lot of blood—and a fair bit of flesh—in the attack. For now, all the medic could do was staunch the bleeding, load her up on drugs, and hope she made it back to Miami.
One problem with pain meds is that they have a tendency to put you to sleep. It might have been more humane to let her drift off into drugged oblivion, but we didn’t have time for humane. We needed her awake, which meant the medic had to give her a shot to keep her lucid.
“What happened in there?” I said as soon as she was conscious.
Her gaze went from me to Adam, whom she’d met, then to Cassandra and Aaron. She stared at them, then whispered, “You’re the vampires, aren’t you?”
Aaron nodded.
Roni squeezed her eyes shut. Tears brimmed along her lashes. “I wish I’d never heard of vampires. I wish I’d never heard of any of it. Vampires, werewolves, demons.” She opened her eyes and met mine. “And witches. I especially wish I’d never heard of witches.”
How different her attitude had been a week ago. Then she’d been a witch hunter who dreamed of being a witch. A human, who dreamed of being superhuman. She’d been getting blood transfusions that Giles promised would grant her that dream, as she was taught tiny spells to “prove” it worked.
“What happened?” I said again, firmer now.
Her eyes closed, tears squeezing out. “I thought he was going to make everything better. Make the world better. That’s what he said and he made it sound so real that we all believed him. We followed him. We did everything he asked us to.” She opened her eyes. “Did you find out who he really is?”
“Gilles de Rais,” I said. “Slaughtered dozens of children in thirteenth-century France.”
“He said that wasn’t true. He said he found the secret to immortality and when he wouldn’t give it to his enemies, they told those lies about him. They had him executed. Except he didn’t die, because he’d found immortality through his research.”
“Or through bargains with demons,” I said. “That’s part of the legend, too.”
Her gaze dropped. “He told us he’d found it through research, by accident, and only now perfected it. Everyone believed him.
Some believed him so much that they volunteered to be test subjects. Others waited, but then they got tired of waiting. Like Dave.”
“Dave?”
She looked toward the back of the jet, where the rest of the wounded were in quarantine.
“The young guy who got infected?” I said. “He did that to himself? How?”
“The water. In the office.”
“You poisoned the water cooler?” Adam got to his feet. “That means there will be more employees infected. I need to warn—”
“There aren’t any more,” Roni said. “That was the idea—put the stuff in after the office closed. Only Mr. Jordan stayed late with two staff. I wanted to wait until they left, but Dave called Giles. I knew what Giles would say.”
“Get in there and dose the water.”
She nodded. “Dave did it. He pretended—” Her face convulsed with sudden pain.
“Forget how he did it,” I said. “So it was just those three, then Jordan left.”
“There was another woman from down the hall. She stopped by to talk.”
Adam stayed standing. “I’ll call the Houston cleanup team and get that water gone.”
“So Dave decided to help himself to it,” I said to Roni.
She shivered. Aaron pulled the blankets up around her and she whispered her thanks, then said, “That’s who’s left. The ones who are as crazy as Giles. And some who just keep hoping. Keep telling themselves Giles isn’t crazy, he’s just …”
“Devoted to the cause. Really, really devoted.”
She nodded. “It all went wrong so fast that most of us were …”
“Blindsided,” Aaron said.
She nodded again. “First we heard about the Cabals getting involved, and that made people nervous. Some had worked for the Cabals. They spread stories. Then they disappeared and we told ourselves they’d just left but …”
She swallowed. “When the lab blew up, Giles tried to keep it a secret, which was a bad idea because when people found out, they figured he had a reason for hiding it from them, that it meant the whole plan was derailed, the virus gone, Althea dead.”