by Tina Folsom
“It’s the truth! They’re using her to make me do what they want. But if they find out that I’m no use to them anymore, they’ll have no reason to keep her alive.”
Blake moved closer, flashing his fangs. “You’d better be telling the truth.” He turned to Samson. “We’ll take him to HQ to interrogate him.”
“No!” Ronny protested. “I have to finish this batch. If it’s not done when they need it—”
“Let’s go, buddy,” Amaury interrupted and hoisted him out of the room.
“I’m gonna stay,” Wes announced all of a sudden. “Hav, can you leave me your car?”
“What are you gonna do?” Blake asked.
Wes pointed to the table. “I’m gonna check on what he’s been doing. It might help me understand how the drug works.”
“You’re gonna be okay on your own?” Haven asked, concern etched in his face. “Want me to stay with you?”
“I can stay, too,” Yvette offered.
Wes shook his head. “It’s gonna bore you to death. So, no. Just go home. I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so,” Haven conceded.
“No worries.” He motioned to his backpack. “I’ve got all the protection with me that I need. I’ll lock up when I’m done.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Lock up? I’d say, burn the place down.”
“Not yet,” Wes replied. “We might still need some of this later. Besides, if Ronny told us the truth, then we’d better keep things the way they are until we’ve got Hannah. I’ll put a locking spell on the house when I leave.”
“Sounds good,” Samson agreed, then he said to the others, “Let’s move it.”
Blake nodded at Wes, then followed Samson and the others outside. He could only hope that what Ronny had said was the truth, and that Hannah was still alive, and would remain alive as long as her captors believed that Ronny was complying with their orders. But so far he didn’t believe Ronny. He needed proof.
33
Wesley waited until his colleagues had left and silence had descended on the house. A quick glance told him that it would be a little while before he left this place. There was a lot to investigate. But just in case Ronny’s associates were to show up unannounced, he decided to set up protective wards that would alert him to any intruder. Once the magic crystals were in place—one outside the door, and one outside each window—he went to work. Only another witch would sense the wards, a human or vampire wouldn’t even notice the crystals until it was too late.
Wes turned to the table, where Ronny had been mixing up the various herbs. There were several bags filled with strange dried leaves, measuring spoons, and various metal containers and other utensils. He looked around in the kitchen, sniffing. On the stove sat a large earthen pot with a lid.
He walked to it and lifted the lid, but instantly staggered back. The smell emanating from the disgusting-looking black sludge was vile. And he was no stranger to vile smells. He’d brewed enough awful-smelling potions in his life, but this concoction took the cake.
There was no way to test the brew here. He would have to take samples back to his lab. He opened his backpack and took a vial from it, snatched a clean spoon from one of the kitchen drawers, and scooped some of the black sludge into the vial, then sealed it tightly and put it in a plastic container so it wouldn’t get damaged in his bag.
“Well, then,” he murmured to himself and started examining each herb on the table individually. The Höllenkraut he recognized immediately. In the last twenty-four hours he’d read everything he could find about the plant. And the more he found, the more he was concerned. Some of the other herbs he could identify visually, others by their smell. He catalogued each of them on his notepad, and bagged samples. But there were several he didn’t recognize. Fortunately, thinking ahead, he’d packed his Herbal Companion book into his backpack, and now retrieved it.
He leafed through it and was able to identify all of the herbs Ronny had been using. Some seemed rather innocent: chamomile, for example. He shook his head. What effect would an innocuous herb like chamomile have in this dangerous concoction? Clearly it did something, but he couldn’t figure it out, just by looking at it. He’d have to find Ronny’s recipe book. Somewhere, he must have written down the exact proportions of each herb he used in the manufacture of the drug.
But no matter how many drawers he opened, how many things he turned over, and how many books he flipped through, nowhere could he find anything even remotely resembling a recipe. The closest he’d come to a recipe were the online notes Matt had discovered on Ronny’s computer. But it had been evident pretty quickly that the recipe on the computer was an early trial of the drug and was incomplete. Useless, other than that it had alerted him to the Höllenkraut.
He was packing his backpack with the various samples he’d taken, when there was a sudden flash outside the kitchen window. It was the ward he’d set up, alerting him to a visitor. Wesley jumped into action immediately, pulling his gun from the bag and barreling outside. But by the time he ran around the house, whoever had triggered the ward was gone.
He froze for a moment and peered into the darkness. He didn’t have a vampire’s sensitive hearing or eyesight, but as a preternatural creature, he could sense auras. It was how he recognized vampires. And how vampires recognized him as a witch.
And as a witch he could sense the faint impression of the person’s aura that still lingered. A preternatural creature, no doubt, though he couldn’t tell if it was a vampire. Nevertheless, he started running, hoping the trail would last long enough to let him catch up.
Wes charged through the forest, not caring that he sounded like an entire herd of elephants trampling through the woods. It didn’t matter. The aura trail became stronger every minute he was in pursuit of the stranger, which meant his endurance training at Scanguards was finally paying off. Whoever it was, Wes was gaining on him.
However, even though moonlight now shone through the less dense vegetation, he still couldn’t see anybody. He could hear him now, though. Dry twigs were breaking under the person’s feet. Wes used those sounds and the aura trail to keep close behind his target, sucking more air into his lungs as he continued the chase.
The stranger was running uphill now, and from what he could see and hear, he had just reached the peak. The moonlight shining onto that spot should silhouette him against the background, but Wesley saw nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Impossible,” he murmured to himself, and raced uphill.
When he reached the spot where the person had been only seconds earlier he looked down the other side of the hill. He saw twigs and leaves flying, as if somebody were hurtling down the hill in a hurry, but there was nobody. Nobody visible anyway.
Wes barreled down the hill, careful not to fall. If he broke his neck, it wouldn’t help anybody.
At the bottom, he finally saw what the person was heading for. A wooden shack. Its door flapped. The stranger must have just entered it. Wes charged toward it, kicking the door in with one foot, while aiming his gun into the middle of the wooden hut.
But this wasn’t an ordinary shack, he realized immediately.
At the far end of it was a stone wall with an opening larger than an ordinary door. Past it, he finally saw the person he’d chased. The stranger whirled around, their gazes meeting for a moment.
“Destroy it,” the stranger said.
Stunned, yet still pointing the weapon at the man dressed in dark clothes and a long black coat, Wes asked automatically, “Destroy what?”
“The drug. It’ll only play into the demons’ hands.”
Wes hesitated. “Who are you? Identify yourself!” Because this man was no vampire.
“We’re on the same side, witch!” Then he lifted his hands as if in surrender, and suddenly a stone wall appeared in front of him.
“Shit!”
Wes ran to it, pressed his hand against it, but it was solid rock. How the fuck had the guy done this? It couldn’t have been witchcraf
t, because for certain, the stranger was no witch. Yet he’d recognized Wesley as a witch. He was preternatural. That much was certain.
But what was he?
Wes dropped his head, when something caught his attention. He stared at the stone in front of him and concentrated on the grooves in its surface. Then he saw it: somebody had carved a dagger into the boulder. A perfect, beautiful ancient dagger. Wes traced the outline with his fingers and felt the stone heat under his touch. Simultaneously, it started to shimmer.
“Fuck!”
He pressed against it, but the heat subsided, as did the glow. The stone was cold again. But the dagger was still there. And he knew he’d seen this dagger somewhere before. Somewhere in a book.
34
Lilo listened anxiously while Quinn spoke to somebody on his cell phone.
Several hours ago, Blake had left, leaving her behind at his house, even though she’d wanted to go with him. But he’d used his sexual prowess to make her submit to his wishes. And she was still fuming about that. This was exactly what she didn’t like about men: their dominance—and her own weakness of giving in so quickly.
And to top it all off, Blake had asked Quinn and Rose to babysit her. Not that she didn’t like the couple—in fact she liked them very much—but she didn’t like being manhandled like that. Without her wishes being taken into account. And she’d tell Blake exactly that—just as soon as he was back.
Quinn disconnected the call, slipped his phone into his pocket and walked back into the living room. “That was Oliver.”
Impatient, Lilo asked, “And? What happened?”
“They’ve got Ronny.”
Her heartbeat accelerated. “And Hannah? Is she alright?”
She suddenly felt Rose’s hand on her forearm. Lilo shot her a look, then stared back at Quinn.
A regretful expression crossed his face. “I’m sorry. They didn’t find her. She wasn’t there.”
A sob tore from her chest. “Oh no! He killed her, didn’t he?” It was too late.
“Oh, no, luvvie,” Rose cooed and stroked her arm.
“She’s alive,” Quinn said, approaching.
Lilo met his gaze. But she couldn’t utter a single word.
“But we don’t know where she’s being kept. Not yet anyway.”
“But then how do they know that she’s alive?” Lilo choked out.
Quinn sighed. “She’s alive because they need her.” He exchanged a look with his wife. “I think we should go to headquarters. They’re bringing Ronny in for interrogation. We’ll get more details then.”
Lilo nodded. She couldn’t wait to be face-to-face with Ronny, and tell him what she thought of him.
By the time they reached Scanguards’ office building in the Mission district, a bustling working class neighborhood with predominantly Latino influences, Quinn had already gotten word that Blake and his team had arrived with their captive in tow.
“They’re just starting the interrogation,” Quinn said, and led her and Rose down a long corridor, before opening a door with his ID card. “We can watch everything from up here.”
He motioned for her to enter, and Lilo walked into the room. It looked like a control booth from which a sound engineer monitored a recording studio. Only, the recording studio was a two-story room with nothing but a chair and a table in it. A large window allowed the occupants of the control booth to watch the goings-on in the room below, where several men were milling about. Microphones and loudspeakers ensured that the sound was transmitted into the booth.
Lilo heard the door close behind her.
Quinn now addressed the man sitting at the controls. “Thomas, you know Lilo, don’t you?”
The blond man in leather pants and a black T-shirt nodded and smiled at her. She remembered him now as Eddie’s blood-bonded mate. “I saw you at the meeting last night. Take a seat. They’re just starting.” He turned up the volume.
Lilo took the seat next to Thomas, while Quinn and Rose remained standing behind her.
She looked down into the room. Ronny was sitting in the only chair, while John hovered over him together with another man she’d seen at the meeting, but hadn’t been introduced to.
“Who’s that?”
Rose bent to her. “That’s Oliver. Our son.”
Quinn squeezed Rose’s hand, giving her a ravishing smile. “Well, he’s actually my protégé. I turned him, which makes me his sire, his father, whatever you want to call it. And Rose has graciously accepted him as her son. He and Ursula, his wife, and their son live with us.”
“Oh, I’ve met Ursula and Sebastian.”
“Aren’t they wonderful? You know, they were talking about getting their own house. Oliver sure can afford it, but I would miss Sebastian so much if they moved out. He’s such a sweet kid. And our house is too big for just the two of us anyway,” Rose said.
Lilo suppressed a laugh. A sweet kid who got into trouble the moment he was hanging out with his pals. “He is.”
The door to the interrogation room suddenly opened and Blake, followed by Samson, marched in, joining their colleagues. She couldn’t help but let her eyes roam over Blake. He was all male, all power, all confidence. He appeared almost unapproachable the way he now strode into the room and approached Ronny. Superior was the word that came to mind.
John and Oliver stepped aside to make space for Blake. He now faced Ronny, turning his back to the window from which Lilo was watching with the others.
“Let’s talk, Ronny, man to man.”
Ronny glared at him. “If she dies because you’re holding me here, I’ll rip your heart out!”
“Then you’d better answer all our questions truthfully, and maybe—”
Ronny scoffed. “Maybe what? We’ve already wasted too much time. If I don’t have the next batch ready by the time they call me, Hannah is as good as dead.”
“Then why don’t you start talking? From the beginning.” Blake leaned in. “I want to know every fucking detail, do you hear me? Or I’ll be the one ripping your heart out.” As if to underscore his threat, Blake lifted his hand.
Lilo sucked in a breath. His fingers had turned into claws, and she had no doubt that, should he really want to rip the guy’s heart out, it would be an easy task with those razor-sharp instruments.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Ronny grunted, his eyes wild when he glared at Blake.
Blake moved back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Wasn’t it?”
“No! I wanted to get out.”
“Get out of what?”
“Making the stuff. I’m into chemistry. At the beginning, I was just experimenting. You know, making the stuff to get high.”
Lilo turned to Rose. “Why didn’t he just do coke?”
“Conventional human drugs don’t work on a vampire. Alcohol, nicotine, and any other prescription or non-prescription drugs have no effect on us.”
Surprised, she focused her attention back on the interrogation.
“What happened then?”
“Well, it didn’t work,” Ronny barked. “None of the stuff I brewed was getting me high. I wanted to toss it all out, because there was no way I could sell this to a vampire when it didn’t work.”
“So you wanted to make a drug that worked on vampires and sell it on the street to make money?”
Ronny shrugged. “A guy’s gotta live. It’s not like I have a lot of job opportunities.”
Lilo rolled her eyes. There it was again: Ronny was full of excuses.
“But you didn’t destroy the drug,” Blake prompted.
“I ran into an old friend. He’d just gotten out of prison.”
“Steven Norwood,” Blake supplied.
There was a flash of surprise in his eyes. “So you’re onto him already.”
But Blake didn’t offer any more information. “What did Norwood want?”
“He needed money, too, just like I did. And he knew a few guys who weren’t opposed to doing anything it took to get ahead. When I told
him about the drug I’d tried to manufacture for vampires, he had an idea. He thought that maybe it would work on humans, and instead of selling it to vampires, we could sell the drug to humans.”
Blake scoffed. “You’re trying to tell me you sold those drugs to the humans and then they committed those break-ins all by themselves? How stupid do you think I am?”
Ronny lifted his hands. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. That was the plan at first, but it didn’t work out like that. The drug didn’t give the humans a high. But it put them into an almost catatonic state where they do practically anything they’re told.” He swallowed. “Steven saw the potential in that. And once I tested how to control the human over a long distance, we put the plan in motion.”
“Hold it,” Blake interrupted. “How did you make sure the vampires could control the human over a long distance?”
“Every batch of the drug is the same, but before it gets administered, the vampire who’s in charge of that human mixes it with his own blood. It creates a short-lived bond via which the vampire can control the human’s mind. It assures that the human will only listen to his master, the vampire whose blood is in him. Nobody else can give him any orders. And mind control by any other vampire won’t work.”
“And without the blood?”
“Without it, the human goes into the catatonic state, and can be controlled by anybody. Even a human. We had to eliminate that possibility, otherwise we would have lost control over the humans we used.”
Ronny shoved a shaky hand through his hair.
“Continue,” Blake prompted. “What happened when you realized you could control humans with the drug?”
“Steven figured we could order them to rob stores for us, and homes. We wouldn’t have to get our hands dirty. And we could do it during daylight. Nobody would ever suspect us. It went well for quite some time. But I hadn’t really had any occasion to test the drug’s long-term effects, and I started seeing something…” He visibly choked back something akin to a sob. “We kept using the same humans, and I started to see what the drug did in the end.”