Suddenly feeling suffocated by the hazmat suit, Vash strode toward the door. Grace met her there and typed in the code that released the seal to the antechamber.
“You’re talking about a hell of a lot of manpower,” Vash muttered, following Grace’s example and standing on a painted circle on the floor. Something sprayed from the exposed piping over her head, surrounding her suit in a fine mist.
“I know.”
There were tens of thousands of minions, but their inability to tolerate sunlight seriously hindered their usefulness. The original Fallen had no such restriction, but there were less than two hundred of them. Far too few to provide the blood to minions that would grant them temporary immunity. Certainly not enough to manage the pavement-pounding necessary to carry out the requested task in a timely manner.
Shrugging out of her suit, Vash rolled her shoulders back and set her mind. The initial reports of the illness had surfaced at the same time as Adrian’s lost love. Nailing down a timeline would help her to decide if the Sentinel leader had culpability or not. “I’ll make it happen.”
“I know you will.” Grace paused in the act of ruffling her choppy blond hair, and her gaze moved over Vash. “You still dress in mourning.”
Vash looked down at the black leather pants and vest she wore, and managed a shrug. After sixty years, the pain was still there, throbbing to remind her of the vengeance due her for Charron’s brutal slaying. One day she’d find a lycan who could give her the information she needed to pick up the trail of Char’s killers. She could only hope that happened before the ones responsible died of old age or on a hunt. Unlike Sentinels and vamps, the lycans had mortal expiration dates.
“Let’s get that list,” she said crisply, ready to start on the monumental task ahead of her.
* * *
Syre watched the video to the end, then pushed to his feet in a burst of agile movement. “What are your thoughts on this?”
Vash tucked her legs up beneath her on the chair that faced his desk. “We’re fucked. We don’t have enough people to attack this as quickly as the virus—the Wraith virus, she called it . . . As fast as it’s spreading, we don’t have the resources to tackle it.”
He shoved a hand through his thick, dark hair and cursed. “We can’t go down like this, Vashti. Not after all we’ve been through.”
The Fallen leader’s pain was a tangible force in the room. As he stood before the windows that overlooked Main Street in Raceport, Virginia, a town he’d built from the ground up, it appeared as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. It wasn’t just the problems they faced that pressed down on him. He was in deep mourning, grieving the loss of his daughter after centuries of praying for her return. And he was altered by that loss. No one else had noticed it yet, but Vash knew him too well. Something had changed in him, a switch had been flipped. He was harder, less flexible, and that was reflected in the decisions he was making.
“I’m going to do the best I can,” she promised. “We all will. We’re fighters, Syre. No one will give up.”
He turned to face her, his beautiful face set in fierce lines. “I received an interesting call while you were with Grace.”
“Oh?” His tone and the glitter of his gaze set her on edge. She knew that look of his, knew it meant he was resolved to his course but expected resistance.
“The lycans have revolted.”
Vash’s spine stiffened painfully, as it always did when discussing the Sentinels’ dogs. “How? When?”
“Within the last week. I assume Adrian’s distraction over my daughter was seen as a prime opportunity to break free.” His arms crossed, his powerful biceps flexing with the movement. Adrian had first been attracted to Lindsay Gibson because she was the latest incarnation of Shadoe, Syre’s daughter and Adrian’s longtime love. In the end, it was Lindsay who’d won both Adrian’s heart and the right to her own body, leaving Syre mired in grief over the loss of his child and Adrian knocked a bit off his game. “The lycans will need us if they want to stay free, and it appears we need them just as badly.”
She pushed to her feet. “You can’t be serious.”
“I know what I’m asking of you.”
“Do you? This is akin to me asking you to work with Adrian, knowing he’s the reason your daughter is gone. Or me telling you to partner with the demon who killed your wife.”
His chest expanded on a slow deep inhale. “If the fate of every vampire in the world was dependent on my doing so, I’d do it.”
“Fuck you and your guilt.” The words slipped out before she could hold them back. Whatever else Syre was to her, he was first and foremost her commanding officer. “I’m sorry, Captain.”
He dismissed her concern with an impatient flick of his wrist. “You’ll pay me back by finding whoever the lycan Alpha is and offering an alliance.”
“There are no lycan Alphas. The Sentinels have made sure of that.”
“There has to be one or the revolt would never have happened.”
She began to pace, her heeled boots rapping out a quick staccato on the hardwood floor. “Send Raze or Salem,” she suggested, offering up her two best captains. “Or both of them.”
“It has to be you.”
“Why?”
“Because you hate lycans, and your reluctance will hide our desperation.” He rounded the desk, then half-sat on the front edge, his long legs crossing at the ankles. “We can’t give them an advantage. They have to believe they need us more than we need them. And you’re my second. Sending you sends a powerful message as to how seriously I would take the proposed alliance.”
The thought of working with lycans stirred a rage inside her that fogged her vision. What if she inadvertently worked alongside one of the lycans who’d ripped Charron to ribbons? What if she saved one of their lives, thinking they were an ally? It was so perverted it made her stomach roil. “Give me some time to try to handle this on our own. If I don’t make sufficient progress within a couple weeks, we can revisit.”
“Adrian could exterminate the lycans by then. The timing has to be now, while they’re still on uneven footing. Think about how quickly we could search with thousands of lycans at our disposal.”
She continued to traverse the length of the room at a pace that would make mortals dizzy to follow. “Tell me your request has nothing to do with your hatred for Adrian.”
Syre’s mouth curved on one side. “You know I can’t. I want to kick Adrian while he’s down. Of course I do. But that wouldn’t be enough to ask you to do this, knowing what it’s going to cost you. You mean far more to me than that.”
Coming to an abrupt halt, Vash approached him. “I’ll do this because you’re ordering me to, but I won’t set aside the retribution I’m owed. I’ll use this opportunity to find those responsible for Charron’s death. When I act on that information, I won’t be held liable for the consequences. If that’s not acceptable to you, I’ll present your offer of an alliance. Then I’ll go my own way.”
“You will not.” Syre’s low tone held a wealth of warning. “I’ll support you, Vashti—you know that. But at this moment, the exigency of the vampire nation must come first.”
“Fair enough.”
He nodded. “The revolt began at the Navajo Lake compound. Start in Utah. They can’t have gone far.”
A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR
Sylvia Day
is an award-winning author of more than a dozen novels. A wife and mother of two, she is a former Russian linguist for U.S. Army Military Intelligence. She’s received the
Romantic Times
Reviewers’ Choice Award, the National Readers’ Choice Award two years in a row, the Borders Readers Crown Award, the Eppie award, and multiple finalist nominations for the RITA Award.
CONNECT ONLINE
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Praise for
A Touch of Crimson
“Will rock readers with a stunning new world, a hot-blooded hero, and a strong, kick-ass heroine. This is Sylvia Day at the top of her game!”
—
New York Times
bestselling author Larissa Ione
“Angels and demons, vampires and lycans, all set against an inventive, intriguing story world that hooked me from the first page. Balancing action and romance, humor and hot sensuality, Sylvia Day’s storytelling dazzles. I can’t wait to read more about this league of sexy, dangerous guardian angels and the fascinating world they inhabit.
A Touch of Crimson
is a paranormal romance lover’s feast!”
—
New York Times
bestselling author Lara Adrian
“Explodes with passion and heat. A hot, sexy angel to die for and a gutsy heroine make for one exciting read!”
—
New York Times
bestselling author Cheyenne McCray
“Sylvia Day spins a gorgeous adventure in
A Touch of Crimson
that combines gritty, exciting storytelling with soaring lyricism. Adrian is my favorite kind of hero—an alpha male angel determined to win the heart of his heroine, Lindsay, while protecting her from his lethal enemy. Lindsay is a gutsy, likable woman with paranormal abilities of her own, as well as a dedication to protecting humanity against a race of demonic monsters. This is definitely a book for your keeper shelf.”
—
New York Times
bestselling author Angela Knight
“Absolutely perfect! There are so many levels to this book, plots, subplots, shades of gray, it was brilliantly constructed and written . . . Not only is the story magnificent, but it is truly one of the hottest books I’ve read this year.”
—Rage, Sex and Teddy Bears
“Catapults you headfirst into the action from the very first page . . . [This] had everything I could hope for in a book. Fantastic characters, a hunk of a leading man . . . a sympathetic and headstrong leading lady and an awesome story line . . . [This] is packed with action, killer one-liners, and gripping cliff-hangers.”
—All About Me
“A gripping, touching, and scintillating page-turner. [Day] skillfully blends a timeless tale of love lost and found. [This is] a perfect romance with excellent world building that’s rich with angels, lycans, and vampires.”
—
Romantic Times
(4½ stars)
Praise for Sylvia Day
Writing as S. J. Day
“Great characters and terrific storytelling in a hot-blooded adrenaline ride. A keep-you-up-all-night read.”
—#1
New York Times
bestselling author Patricia Briggs
“Exhilarating adventure in an edgy world of angels and demons . . . will keep readers enthralled.”
—
Publishers Weekly
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A Touch of Crimson