Up From the Grave: A Night Huntress Novel (7 page)

Twelve

W
e had turbulence on the long flight back to the States. I was fine with it, but Bones, who hated to fly even under good conditions, was in a less-than-charming mood by the time we landed in St. Louis. It was his bad luck that Spade and Denise hadn’t been staying at their England estate. That would have been a relatively short trip from Romania.

Of course, his ill temper might be because he hated my plan. Still, as I’d told him more than once on the bumpy fight back, if he had a better idea, I was open to hearing it. His silence on that subject spoke volumes, but I knew Bones. He wasn’t done fighting yet.

Then again, neither was I. Besides, while I felt confident of Denise’s response, we also had to convince Spade to go along with this. If he wouldn’t, Bones had nothing to worry about.

By the time we pulled up to Spade and Denise’s house, the sun was setting, though jet lag and traversing several time zones in the past two days had me feeling like it was the crack of dawn. Spade was already waiting at his front door, causing me to wonder which had alerted him to our arrival first: sensing other vampires’ presences or hearing our car pull into the driveway.

“Crispin,” Spade said, referring to Bones by his real name since, like Ian, he’d known him back when they were all human. “Cat. Welcome.”

The words were gracious, but Spade’s tone was more cautious than cordial. I gave the tall, black-haired vampire my most winning smile, which earned me an instant scowl.

“Now I know your visit brings trouble, as if your telling me to clear out our staff before you arrived wasn’t warning enough.”

“You’re not wrong, Charles,” Bones said, also using Spade’s birth name. Then he clapped him on the back. “But you need to hear this nonetheless.”

I followed them inside, glad to see a friendlier face coming down the hallway.

“Denise!”

She grinned, giving me a hug when she reached me. I squeezed back, not worried about hurting her with my strength. In many ways, the demonic essence Denise was branded with had made her tougher than I.

When she pulled away, though, her grin had faded. “What’s going on? Is your mom okay?”

“She’s fine,” I said, making a mental note to call her soon. “We’re here about something my uncle started a long time ago.”

We filled them in on the details while sipping coffee in their living room. Spade’s handsome features were set in hard lines by the time we finished.

“He’ll cause a war if he succeeds,” he stated. Then he gave Bones a measuring look. “The answer is yes, Crispin. I’ll fight with you to prevent cross-species contamination from ever happening.”

Bones snorted. “I never doubted that, mate, but that’s not why we’re here.”

With that, I cleared my throat. “We can’t storm the base where we think Madigan is running his experiments—and holding our friends—until we know who his government backer is. And we can’t find that out without getting inside the base, so it’s been a Catch-22 until now.”

I glanced at Denise before I fixed my attention back on her husband.

“Only Madigan can waltz into that facility and get the information we need without arousing suspicion. Or someone who looks just like him.”

I’d always thought Spade’s eyes resembled a tiger’s. Right now, seeing them fix on me in a way that made every survival instinct scream “Red Alert!” I was sure of it.

“Charles,” Bones said.

Though the single word was soft, the crash of power that instantly flooded the room was anything but.

Spade let out a sound; half growl, half hiss. “Don’t threaten me, Crispin.”

“Then don’t glare at my wife that way,” was his instant response.

“Hey.” Denise stood up, waving her hand to break their staring contest. “Remember me, the person this is about?”

Spade looked her way, his expression softening at once.

“I do, darling, but you can’t walk into that facility on your own. It’s too dangerous.”

“I agree,” I said calmly.

That startled Spade into looking at me without his former death stare. “What?”

“I agree,” I repeated. “Even if Denise got in, she’d have no idea how to hack into Madigan’s computer to get the information we needed. While I’m not as good as the hacker group Anonymous, I know enough to recover what we’re looking for. That’s why I’d be going with her. Madigan’s been after me for years, so his scientists would see me pretending to be his captive and just assume he’d finally accomplished his objective to imprison me for full experimentation.”

And once we were inside the compound, and I discovered who’d been backing Madigan, plus what had happened to Tate, Juan, Cooper, and Dave . . . the real fight would begin.

Spade’s gaze flicked to Bones. “You’re willing to let her do this?”

A bark of laughter preceded his response. “Willing? No. Resigned, yes, but she’s not going in alone, either. I’ll be going with them.”

“Bones,” I said in a sigh, “we talked about this. One hostage vampire, his staff would believe, but two? That’s pushing it.”

“Normally, yes,” he said in a mild tone. “But anyone who sees me will swear I’m completely harmless.”

Of course. Because a six-foot-two, muscled Master vampire known to be a centuries-old badass was the picture of helplessness.

“You’d need to employ mass hypnotism to convince anyone of that, and his guards wear visors to prevent being mesmerized.”

Bones’s smile was dangerously luxuriant, like poison concealed in the finest of wines.

“You’ll see, but before we get to that, we need to find a way to capture Jason Madigan. Denise can’t pull off impersonating him in West Virginia if everyone knows he’s still in Tennessee.”

F
abian dropped through the kitchen ceiling of our rental apartment, his translucent features telling the story before he spoke.

“He still hadn’t left the compound, has he?” I asked in resignation.

The ghost shook his head. “I’m sorry, Cat.”

Denise’s face mirrored my own disappointment, but Spade turned away before I could catch his expression. It was probably a smile. He’d risk his own life without any qualms, but when it came to his wife’s safety, he even managed to make Bones look under-protective.

“This isn’t working,” Denise said, stating the opinion I’d come to days ago. “Madigan might have left the compound every couple weeks before, but he’s obviously burrowed in like a tick now. What if it’s months until he comes out on his own?”

“The shortest distance between two points is a straight line,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “I’ll call Madigan and tell him I want to meet. We now know how badly he wants to capture me, so that’ll get him out of the compound.”

“Absolutely not,” Bones snapped.

“Hooks work best when they’re baited,” I replied, throwing his words from the other day back at him. “I’m what Madigan wants. He’ll come out if he thinks he can grab me.”

“Yes, with the strongest army he can amass to capture you,” Bones said, his emotions flashing through mine with the intensity of lightning strikes. “Need I remind you that the last time you met an adversary on his terms, you were shot and nearly burned to death.”

By reflex, I ran a hand through my hair. Even with vampire healing abilities, it still hadn’t grown to the length it had been the night Kramer set fire to me.

“But who’s here and who’s locked in a spectre trap?” I countered. “If history’s most powerful ghost couldn’t do me in, then humanity’s biggest asshole doesn’t stand a chance.”

Spade leaned back, making himself more comfortable while a satisfied expression crossed his features. No doubt he was thinking paybacks were a bitch as he listened to Bones and me argue over acceptable safety risks.

Then the person I least expected to take my side strolled into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a bed sheet wrapped around his hips.

“Why do you bother, Crispin? You married a fighter, so stop trying to convince her that the sidelines suit her better.”

“The day you love anyone but yourself is the day I’ll take your marital advice, Ian,” Bones bit back in an icy tone.

“Then today is that day,” Ian replied sharply, “for I love you, you wretched, pig-headed guttersnipe. I also love that arrogant, overprivileged dandy smirking at us”—a wave indicted Spade, whose aforementioned smirk vanished—“as well as the emotionally fractured, malfunctioning psychic who sired me. And you, Crispin, love a bloodthirsty hellion who’s probably killed more people in her thirty years than I have in over two centuries of living, so again I say, don’t bother trying to convince her that she isn’t
who she is.
”

Denise’s mouth hung open, either at Ian’s less-than-flattering descriptions of us, or the notion that I’d killed more people than he had. Spade’s expression was now stony, but a muscle ticked in Bones’s jaw—the only indication of his feelings since he’d shrouded his aura under an impenetrable cloud.

As for me, I didn’t know whether to punch Ian for calling Bones a pig-headed guttersnipe or thank him for stating the obvious. I might be tired of all the fighting and constantly straddling the line between life and death, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t good at it.

Some people were born to be mothers, fathers, inventors, artists, speakers, preachers . . . and then there was me.

“He’s right,” I said in a quiet tone. “My true skill is killing. I’ve excelled at it since I was sixteen, when I took on my first vampire without knowing anything about them.”

Then I went over to Bones, framing his face in my hands.

“It was you who taught me to judge people by their actions instead of their species. You saved me from a life of misery, regret, and well-earned recriminations. Now it’s time to let me do my thing, Bones”—I smiled wryly—“and trust that you taught me to be the best damned killer I could be.”

He covered my hands with his own, his flesh vibrating with the power he kept so tightly under control. Then he kissed me, gentle yet full of scorching passion.

Which was why, when he drew away and spoke, I couldn’t believe what he said.

“You’re right, luv. But I still refuse to be a part of this.”

Then I
really
didn’t believe it when he walked out of the apartment.

Thirteen

T
his wasn’t the first time Bones had gotten pissed enough to walk out on me. Whoever said marriage was easy? Not me.

“He just needs time to cool off,” I told Denise, who hovered in the doorway, holding a bottle of gin in one hand and a pint of Häagen-Dazs in the other. Had to give it to my best friend: She knew how to cover her bases.

I pointed at the gin. She came inside, handing it over. Then she sat next to me on the bed and popped the lid off the ice cream, digging into that one herself.

“Of course he’ll be back,” she said between spoonfuls. “But are you, you know, okay in the meantime?”

I took a swallow of gin before I answered. “I’ve been better. When Bones does return, we’ll have it out over the way he chose to express his dissenting opinion, but marriage is a marathon. Not a sprint.”

Denise raised her spoon in salute. “True, that.”

I patted her arm, taking a last swig of gin before I put the bottle on the nightstand. Then I pulled out one of my burner phones, dialing a number that used to connect me to my uncle when he was alive.

“Madigan,” a brusque voice answered.

“This is Cat Russell,” I said. “We need to talk.”

The space of two heartbeats went by before Madigan replied, “Aren’t we doing that now?” in a manner that sounded more cautious than sarcastic.

I let out a short laugh. “Humor never was your strong suit, Jason. I mean face-to-face, and sooner rather than later.”

“Come on over, then. You know where I am,” was his reply.

“So I can stand in the cross fire of dozens of machine guns concealed in your walls?” My scoff was soft. “Thanks, but no.”

This time, his silence stretched longer than a couple heartbeats. Probably trying to figure out how I knew about the guns.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked at last.

“Midnight tonight at the Rat Branch Pier off Watauga Lake. It’s just east of Hampton, Tennessee. Come alone, and I’ll do the same.”

Laughter floated across the line, harsh as glass being ground by rocks. “You’ll do the same? We both know Bones is glaring over your shoulder right now, silently vowing to accompany you.”

“If he were here, he would be,” I said, and that was the unvarnished truth. “But we already had this fight, and he got pissed and left. That’s why our meeting has to be tonight. He won’t be gone long, and once he’s back, he’ll insist on coming.”

Another extended silence. Either Madigan was mulling this over or trying to trace the call, but he’d get nowhere with that. Finally, after long enough for me to wonder if he’d hung up, he spoke again.

“This intrigues me, Crawfield, but I don’t think I’ll give you an opportunity to kill me. You want to talk? Come to me here.”

“It’s Russell,” I said at once, “and see if
this
intrigues you: Don made arrangements for a letter to be mailed to me in the event of his death. I’ve moved around a lot the past several months, so I only just got it. In it, he apologized for the horrible things he allowed to go on while the two of you worked together—”

“What things?” Madigan interrupted.

I smiled.
Have your interest now, don’t I?

“That’s what I want to find out, but not enough to give you home-field advantage. The pier on Watauga Lake tonight or forget it. Hell, maybe forget it anyway. Another letter’s probably on its way with more information.”

Frustration practically seethed through the silence on the other end. Not only did Madigan
really
want to capture me; like all bureaucrats, he was nothing if not paranoid about keeping his secrets. The last thing he’d want was a group of vampires poking around his illicit experiments, and the idea that his former nemesis might spill the beans posthumously must be giving him an ulcer.

“If I thought you had a shred of honesty in you,” he finally gritted out, “I’d make you swear on Bones’s life that you’ll come without him. Or anyone else.”

“I swear it,” I said evenly. “And out of the two of us, I’m not the biggest liar.”

The noise he made was too low for me to determine if it was a scoff or a laugh.

“I guess at midnight, we’ll find out.”

“See you then,” I said crisply, and hung up.

Denise stared at me, her hazel eyes wide with alarm. “You’re not really intending to go alone, are you?”

“Of course.” My lips stretched into a cold, predatory smile. “As I said, between Madigan and me, I’m not the biggest liar.”

T
he Rat Branch Pier at Watauga Lake was a public place, yet even if I’d chosen high noon instead of midnight for our meeting, it was still very isolated. More than half of the lake’s sixteen-mile shoreline was bordered by the Cherokee National Forest, while a snaking road overshadowed by steep, wooded terrain bordered the other side. Only the moon provided illumination since the single light post next to the pier was broken.

The steady rain plus countless rustling trees and the nearby dam muffled the natural sounds from the forest’s inhabitants. Still, here and there I caught the glow of eyes as nocturnal creatures foraged for food, mates, or both.

I waited at the very end of the pier, my clothes already soaked from the summer rain. Clouds concealed most of the light the moon cast, but with my enhanced vision, I had no difficultly seeing Madigan pull up in a sleek black Cadillac before parking next to the boat launch. Even if I’d suddenly been struck blind, his mind broadcast his arrival. Tonight, he’d chosen to sing the chorus to U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” over and over to block me from his thoughts.

And here I’d thought the prick had no sense of humor.

Madigan parked, but then sat in his car instead of getting out. It was a little before midnight; was he going to wait until
exactly
12:00
A.M.
? Or did he not see me at the end of the pier? Then I tensed when he began rooting around in the front seat, but all he pulled out was an umbrella.

Candypants.

He got out of the car, holding his umbrella over him with one hand and carrying a small but powerful flashlight in the other. His steps were sure as he walked onto the pier, and when he turned the corner toward the last section, his flashlight briefly blinded me as he shined it onto my face. Guess he knew where I’d been waiting all along.

“Evening,” I said pleasantly.

“Show me your hands,” he replied in a far less cordial manner.

I pulled them out of my coat pockets, not bothering to hide the curl to my lips as I wagged my fingers at him.

“You’re alone in the dark with a vampire and your first concern is whether I’m packing weapons?”
Really?
my tone implied.

His mouth thinned, emphasizing wrinkles caused by frowns instead of smiles.

“You should know if I don’t return from this meeting, I’ve left instructions to carry out a drone strike on your mother’s location.”

My half smile never slipped. “If you knew where she was, I’d believe that.”

His gaze swept over me, cold and calculating. “You’re careful. She isn’t. Can you believe she returned to your childhood home in Ohio, as if I haven’t had the place watched since you visited it last fall? Sentimentality can be such a curse, can’t it?”

I didn’t know who I wanted to throttle more—Madigan for his threat or my mother for returning to a location she
knew
had been compromised. Wait, no contest. Madigan, but I couldn’t. Not yet.

“Why tell me your fail-safe? If I was going to kill you, now I know to call my mother afterward and tell her to hightail it outta there.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. It never did. “Cell service has been temporarily disabled in her area.”

I let out a short laugh. “You’re clever, I’ll give you that, but I have no intention of killing you tonight.”

Then my eyes blazed green, cutting through the darkness with more intensity than his flashlight. When I spoke again, my voice resonated with nosferatu power.

“I do, however, have some questions.”

Madigan stared right into my bright emerald gaze. And laughed.

“Did you actually think it would be that easy?”

Quick as flipping a switch, I turned the lights off in my eyes. As I’d suspected, he’d inoculated himself against mind control by drinking vampire blood.

“No, I didn’t.” Then I gave him a lopsided smile. “Still, had to try, right?”

He smiled back. “My thoughts exactly.”

I didn’t get a chance to ask what he meant by that because power blasted through the air. I only had a split second to recognize its source when something large dropped out of the sky, landing behind Madigan with a thump that shook the pier.

“Hallo, mate,” Bones said, yanking the older man against him.

Madigan didn’t struggle. He didn’t even look surprised though you could’ve knocked me over with a feather at my husband’s sudden appearance.

“You lied to me, Crawfield,” Madigan hissed.

“Russell,” I corrected him automatically, still staring at Bones in disbelief.

Then my head jerked up as noises crashed through the woods, the sky, and even the waters around the pier.

Madigan managed a smile despite the tight grip Bones had him in.

“That’s all right. I lied, too.”

If he said anything else, I didn’t hear it. The sound of machine-gun fire was too loud.