by K. A. Tucker
First things first, though. I bolted for the exterior doors, sidestepping the few vampires still trying to pull blood from the gardener’s drained corpse, and stopped in front of the security keypad on the wall. Thank God Leo gave me the pass codes to do this. I quickly reprogrammed the passwords, a small giggle escaping me with the knowledge of how this would infuriate them. There. Both the exterior garage and the exterior walk-through door were locked down. No one would enter. No more innocent people would die.
I walked back, more light-hearted than when I had left them, smiling my satisfaction as I watched understanding dawn in Viggo and Mortimer’s eyes, before fury narrowed them. Mage stood nearby. Our eyes touched, and my lips tucked up at the corners in appreciation of her suggestion. She acknowledged with a barely perceptible nod.
“Why would you do that?” Viggo yelled. “I have blood trucks ordered and on their way! Are you going to let them in?”
“We can’t have Red Cross trucks pulling in here, with the Sentinel hovering,” I threw back, adding after a snort, “And I won’t have innocent truck drivers massacred for your entertainment. No. I’ll take care of it.”
“Hey, Reg,” I said when Reggie’s deep voice answered, using my friendliest pitch. Reggie was a supervisor at one of the city’s Red Cross blood banks. Two weeks ago, he had loaded a utility truck with blood and smuggled it inside for me—a gold mine when shoring up supplies in anticipation of four vampires. Of course, I had compelled him to do all of this, and had him at the ready to respond to future needs, leaving me with an open source of blood when I needed it. Like now.
A long pause, then, “Sofie.”
Something isn’t right. I had expected a much warmer reception. “I need more blood, Reg.”
Another long pause. “Um . . . Okay.” His voice quavered with fear. “Be at the receiving dock in thirty minutes.” The phone went dead.
He shouldn’t be afraid of me. I must have messed up the compulsion, forgotten to script it properly. I was normally so good at it! I hung up the phone, sighing my annoyance. Gone were the days where entire trucks could go missing without anyone being the wiser. Now, in the age of computers, every drop was accounted for. I could alter numbers, but then I’d have to follow the trail of information to cover a dozen different threads of evidence to hide my tracks. I didn’t have time for that. I needed human blood.
I headed straight for the garage, a spacious concrete room two floors below the ground level. Nearly three dozen pristinely maintained cars and trucks lined the walls within, some of which had never seen the open road. They were merely part of a collection, another one of Viggo’s material weaknesses.
My eyes drifted over the silver-blue Mercedes, with its dented and bloody front bumper—Viggo had used it to run down Evangeline’s mother. He kept it as a memento. Please choose Mortimer, Veronique, I prayed. Viggo would be as good as dead for what he did to Evangeline.
I climbed into the shiny black Navigator, the largest vehicle available for carting back a supply. As expected, the keys were in the ignition; Viggo didn’t fear breakins. The tires squealed as I peeled out, taking the winding ramp up to the atrium at high speed. As I crossed the threshold and pulled into the atrium, curious vampires quickly put two and two together: Truck going out means doors to outside world opening. Excitement flared in their vibrant irises. They began flocking toward the car entrance. “Great,” I groaned as I slowed the truck to a halt. “This won’t attract attention.” I pressed my hands against my temples.
Mage suddenly appeared in the passenger seat, the act of opening and closing the truck door happening too fast for me to even notice. “What can I do to help?”
The concerned vampire citizen again, are we? I leveled a stare at her. “Look, let’s get one thing straight: I don’t trust you, and you sure as hell would be smart not to trust me.” An amused look crossed her face as she nodded. I sighed heavily. “I can’t have a crowd of hungry vampires in the tunnel when I drive out the exterior door. People will see them—see what they are—even if they can’t get past the Merth.”
“Consider it handled. Be on your way.” With that, she vanished from my passenger seat and reappeared outside the truck, standing in front of the crowd. I inched forward, the low rumble of the big truck’s engine drowning out whatever Mage was saying. It had the desired effect, though; the crowd dispersed to the opposite end of the atrium.
A rap on my window stopped me. Viggo. I rolled down my window, curious.
“Which bank?” he asked.
I studied him, suddenly on edge. “Why do you need to know?”
He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “So we know when you’ll be back and we can move everyone from the gates again! You’ll need to open them to get back in, won’t you?”
“Oh . . . ” I hadn’t thought of the trip back. “Same place as last time.”
“Okay. So we should expect you back here within the hour. Call us when you’re near.”
“Yup.” Strange. Too helpful. What do you have up your sleeve, Viggo? My head was beginning to spin, trying to keep up with everyone’s various motives.
Mortimer appeared behind Viggo. “Keep a look out for them.” Mortimer’s bitterness with the People’s Sentinel was long-standing and obvious.
You have no idea, Mortimer. I rolled my eyes, but anxiety flooded my body. They were out there, watching. We had been careful not to react, not to hunt them down, wanting to sort out this mess with Veronique first. But now, with what I had just learned from Mage, I didn’t know if it was better to exterminate, or continue in silence. To be . . . complacent. That was the word Mage used. Had we become complacent? Was this another step down our predetermined path?
I waited as Mortimer punched in the code to open the interior garage door—I hadn’t changed that one. Throwing the truck into gear, I pulled into the tunnel, checking in my rearview mirror for any desperate vampires. None moved from the far side of the atrium. None attempted to defy Mage. It was as if she had power over them. Maybe she did.
I made it to the blood bank dock with two minutes to spare, after a small detour through the city to shake any tails. Normally I could tell when I was being followed, but today was not the day to take chances. The delivery entrance for this bank was in a wide alley, the tall brick buildings on either side providing some privacy from the street. I backed the Navigator up to one of the delivery doors and threw it into park to wait for Reggie. My fingers strummed the steering wheel as I watched various trucks at different stages of unloading through my black-tinted windows. Guilt fluttered as I thought of the generous people who had unwittingly donated to feed forty hungry vampires. It took the meaning of saving lives to a whole new level.
I sensed the approach a second before the white knuckles wrapped against the window. My finger on a button rolled the window down and I regarded my blood dealer, an unusually pale, blonde man who reeked of terror. “Is something the matter, Reggie?” I asked in my sweetest tone. Apprehension tightened my insides. He shouldn’t be frightened of me . . .
“There’s an unmarked delivery truck on its way from a drive,” he answered in a rush, ignoring my question. “I’ve deleted it from the main system so it’s free for the taking.”
Unmarked. That meant I could leave the Navigator here. Much easier than unloading and reloading. I flashed him my most appreciative smile as I pulled a thick envelope full of cash from the glove compartment and handed it to him. Viggo had cash stashed everywhere. “For your troubles.”
His eyes widened briefly as he took it, then he looked quickly around to check for witnesses before stuffing the envelope inside his lab coat. I heard the loud rumble of an approaching truck. “There it is,” he confirmed, turning to leave.
My hand shot out to grab his forearm. “Thank you, Reg.” He glanced down at my hand, then up at my face, giving me the chance to lock eyes with him. I needed to strengthen the compulsion for the next time I needed blood. “There’s no need to worry, Reg. I’m harmless. I would never hur
t you,” I crooned, waiting for the hypnotic trance to kick in. “I may come back for more blood in a few weeks. Please be ready and willing to help me out.”
He nodded slowly, as if listening, but the haze of a compelled person did not register in his blue eyes. That’s strange . . . am I losing my touch? The second I let go of Reggie’s arm, he bolted into the building.
If I had time, I’d follow him in and try again. But I didn’t have time, I decided as a hospital-green cube truck parked beside me. No telltale blood-donor markings. Perfect. Hopping out of my Navigator, I opened the truck’s passenger side door and swung smoothly into the seat, earning a pleasantly surprised look from a balding delivery man in his sixties.
“Hello, sir. I believe you have a delivery for me?” I crooned, focusing in on his watery irises, pulling his mind toward mine as I had just attempted with Reggie. This time it worked.
“Do I?” he slurred.
“Yes. Please step out of the truck and begin walking away. Go home and take a nap. When you wake up, you’ll remember nothing about this truck or me. Right?”
“Right,” he drawled. Still mesmerized, he pawed absently at the door with his left hand, finally opened it, and spilled out of the truck. He staggered down the alley toward the street as if drunk.
“Okay. Now,” I murmured, sliding into the driver’s seat. I studied the truck’s gearshift. “At least it’s not a rig,” I muttered under my breath. Those were a pain to drive. I threw the truck into drive and began rolling forward.
Two black Dodge extended-cab pickup trucks pulled in front of me, blocking my path. I slammed on the brakes as four burly men hopped out of each, a mixture of fear and determination in their eyes as they peered up at me. My attention flew down to their hands. There it was, the Sentinel tattoo. That meant they knew this redheaded, green-eyed woman was no ordinary woman. This was no accidental encounter.
Rage flared within me. They had gotten to Reggie, used him for an ambush. But how had they broken my compulsion? “Oh,” I murmured, the puzzle pieces fitting together into a hideous picture. There was only one way to break a vampire’s compulsion: witch magic. That meant either Mage’s prophecy was coming true and the Sentinel was allied with the witches, or Ursula was back in action as a thorn in my side. I hoped for the latter at this point but, either way, I didn’t have time for this.
I briefly considered ramming the trucks but decided against it. The damage might stall the delivery truck. Plus, the noise would most definitely attract the attention of curious passersby. I couldn’t cause a scene in broad daylight in front of a blood bank.
I sighed heavily and rolled down the window. A gust of frigid November air struck me. “Hello, gentlemen!” I called cheerily.
The one closest to my door—a heavyset, brown-haired man of six feet—edged forward. He wasn’t getting too close, though. Smart. “You don’t look like the typical truck driver,” he answered with a nonchalant grin, trying to play up his ignorance of my identity. He was a decoy, of course, meant to distract me from the two men to the right who were busy readying a flamethrower drawn from a compartment in the back of one truck—the Sentinel’s weapon of choice against us. It was stupid, really, given the speed and power of a vampire, yet they still did manage to catch us unawares sometimes. But they hadn’t been dealing with the likes of me.
I couldn’t let this go any further, knowing they’d torch the truck, destroying the blood supply. I gave him my sweetest smile, all while plucking helixes of magic from my body, arming myself. I’d paralyze them. Simple. “Oh, but I’m not. You know that . . . don’t you?”
The grin slid off his face as his eyes darted to the others; he gave the slightest nod.
I laughed aloud. “Seriously? Haven’t you guys realized who you’re up against?”
With that, I sent a bolt of magic out to seize the flamethrower clean from the man’s grip, letting it fly back and smash through the passenger side window to rest on the seat next to me. Glass rained down everywhere but I barely noticed. “I’ve been looking for one of those,” I said conversationally.
As the words left my mouth, I heard a faint click. I whipped my head up to see two men stepping out from behind a truck fifty yards away; one held a bazooka. It was pointing at me. And its rocket had been launched.
With no opportunity to weigh my options, I sent another bolt of magic out—this one a thousand helixes strong—to block the rocket and send it back to its launching point, trying to contain the blast. The truck rocked with the explosion, bricks, metal, and body parts flying in every direction.
“So much for keeping a low profile,” I muttered, silently berating myself for being too cocky to notice their plan unfolding. I need to get out of here. Now. I wrapped magical threads around both trucks. With a flick of my wrist, they were swept aside like a minor inconvenience, crumpling against the brick walls and taking four more men with them.
I revved the truck engine and threw it into gear again. It jerked forward. The decoy man stepped in front of the truck to stop me. He disappeared under my truck as I drove over him, the back tires jolting over his body. I peeled out of the alley, speeding up as I passed various pedestrians running toward the commotion, some eyeing my truck suspiciously and a few of them jotting down the license plate number. I had no time to stop and do damage control. Looking in my rearview mirror at the fiery, body-peppered scene I had just left, I knew I needed a new blood supplier.
Not until the heavy iron door slammed against the ground behind me and I coasted into the atrium was I able to relax. I watched forty pairs of bloodthirsty eyes immediately lock onto the truck, the scent of this much human blood sending their senses into overdrive. The moment that back door rolled up, they’d turn into wild, blood-crazed demons.
“Take it easy. It won’t come as easily next time,” I called in warning as I hopped out the driver’s side, on my way to Mortimer. Their ocular veins began pulsating in response.
My expression must have been grim because panic flitted across Mortimer’s face. “It’s safe to say they’re onto us,” I said dryly, scanning the crowd—for Mage, I realized. I had an overpowering urge to talk to her. She was the only one who could appreciate the coming disaster.
Mortimer’s jaw tightened. “We managed to hide from them for a hundred and twenty years and yet now, at the most critical time, they decide they’re going to have their little revolution.”
“I’m beginning to think they’ve had some help,” I replied, intent on explaining the link to the witches, but Mortimer’s plea interrupted me.
“Please, Sofie. Just bring Evangeline back so we can be done with this and move on. We can lose the Sentinel.”
I set my jaw stubbornly. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You’d risk everything for one human girl?”
I glared at him. “Yes.” I sounded insane, but I didn’t care.
“Well, that’s just brilliant.” He slammed his fist on the bistro table so hard that the metal legs snapped like twigs.
A shrill scream disrupted his tantrum. I turned to see a petite, mousy blonde girl of no more than fourteen step out from behind the truck. The body of a male Ratheus vampire lay on the ground beside her, chin smeared with blood, jerking in convulsions before it stopped and lay still. Dead.
“What the—” I began, but then I looked at her neck, where blood ran from two puncture wounds. The other Ratheus vampires hissed at the young woman but slinked away, their comrade’s body keeping them at bay.
“Ileana!” Viggo exclaimed, rushing over to her, his arms wide for an embrace. “How lovely of you to come!”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose as Viggo led the young girl, her face full of fear, away from the throng. It wasn’t until she moved away from the truck and the overpowering scent of blood that the wave of recognition hit me.
Magic.
She was a witch.
“How did—” I began, then cut myself short as I answered my own question, eyeing the garage door. Of c
ourse! She had hitched a ride on the back of the truck while I waited for the garage to open, and I was too frazzled after the attack to notice. That was why Viggo seemed so concerned with when I’d be back—he was planning her entry. “Are you insane?” I shrieked. “Plotting with another witch? Because the first time didn’t teach you enough, you moron,” I grated through clenched teeth, my hand flying up to my forehead. “You’re inviting the Sentinel in!”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Mage’s eyes—not transformed by blood lust, surprisingly—narrow as she studied the girl. Good. She wasn’t impressed either.
“Oh, that’s preposterous.” Viggo dismissed my concerns with a wave of his hand. “That mess with Ursula was a fluke.”
The frown on Mortimer’s face told me he wasn’t a part of this plan. He leaned in close to Viggo, whispering, “We didn’t discuss this.”
“I don’t need your permission,” Viggo responded arrogantly.
The two of them turned to face off.
“But this . . . after the fiasco with Ursula and that one—” Mortimer jerked his chin in my direction “—I thought we were washing our hands of these treacherous creatures.”
“Oh, I know.” Viggo patted the air soothingly. “However, Ileana is more than willing to remain quiet. For the sake of her dear mother, right?” He looked at the woman. Pain flashed in her cornflower-blue eyes.
Of course. I exhaled in disgust. Viggo had hired thugs everywhere. This was obviously a well thought-out contingency plan on his part. The young woman’s mother was likely chained up in a basement somewhere with a bunch of sweaty, hairy men eyeballing her, appalling intentions running through their illiterate brains.
“I can’t guarantee your witch will be safe here,” Mage began, regarding the woman with disapproval, “among this crowd.”
“Oh, we’ve taken care of that! Show them, Ileana,” Viggo said. Ileana lifted a shaking hand to her neck and pulled a tiny vial on a chain from her collar. “Isn’t it lovely?” Viggo crowed. “She stole it from one of her teachers. It makes her blood toxic. Anyone who bites her will die.”