by S. L. Eaves
Owen sighs, “Understood, boss.”
Having a second thought, Brixton walks over to him. “Was the tunnel on any of the blueprints? Any of the DIA’s reports?”
Owen shakes his head.
“Not from a single one I supplied. The agency—to my knowledge—doesn’t have a clue.”
Brixton nods. “Well then, we have another player on our hands. Someone with the knowledge and sophistication to pull this off.”
“Could be vampires. From what we know about Lori, she wasn’t always a rogue; she has friends.”
“Then she’ll lead us to more of her kind.” Brixton places a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Maybe Christmas is coming early this year. Now go; she’s already got a decent lead on us.”
Chapter 7
When we arrive at the apartment building, Rex drives the van into an underground parking garage. From there we take a private elevator up to the penthouse. Rex and Quinn have to help me as I’m still not strong enough to walk on my own. When the elevator doors open I’m half expecting to come face to face with Vega, but he is nowhere to be seen and the apartment is surprisingly quiet.
“We don’t have an infirmary or anything here. There’s an empty bedroom at the end of the hall. We’ll set you up in there,” Quinn suggests.
I peek in some of the rooms as we pass and notice two vampires, drinking and talking, pause to look up, but only to spare a curious glance over their shoulders before resuming conversation. I remember Vega’s two lackeys, the Irish blokes who beat me to a pulp when I dusted their friend, and wonder how I’ll react when I see them. I really hope I don’t.
When we reach the room I sit on the linen chest at the foot of the bed.
“Rex, go grab some blood for Lori—lots of it,” Quinn instructs.
She looks at my shoulder. Frowns.
“We don’t have a doctor; you want that to heal, you’re going to have to let one of us extract the bullet and patch you up proper.”
I start to protest.
“There’s a bullet in your shoulder and I can see parts of your ribcage through the back of what used to be your shirt. Let us help.”
“Okay, fine, thanks.”
Quinn disappears into the bathroom and returns with a first aid kit not unlike the one from the truck.
“Oh great, a knife and a bottle of moonshine.”
She laughs, unzips the kit, and looks in. “You’re in luck, this one has tweezers. No moonshine though; maybe call it a draw.”
I roll my eyes.
“Suck it up, Lor,” she quips.
Rex returns with several gallons of blood.
“See we’re running a first rate clinic here,” Quinn says, washing the tweezers in the sink.
An hour later I’m showered, patched up, and drinking blood in bed. It’s heaven compared to the compound. There is a knock on my door.
“Come in.”
Vega enters. I was hoping I’d have more time to recuperate before facing him.
“Hi, Vega.” My voice is weaker than I’d like. “Forgive me for not getting up; I’m moving kind of slow at the moment.”
“Nonsense, you need your rest; stay put.” He speaks with a distinct Hungarian accent.
I am sitting up in bed and he pulls a chair up to my bedside. His movements are fluid, legs moving imperceptibly, almost as though he’s floating. His jet-black hair is shellacked back and he’s wearing an equally slick black dress shirt and slacks; much more modern-day goth than the Dracula-esque getup he’d been wearing when I last saw him.
Despite looking well fed, the eyes and alabaster skin are still as demonic as I remember. It occurs to me the hair might be a wig, a shiny wig, but his eyebrows appear drawn on up close and his small goatee is gone. Did he shave it or did it fall off? His features are less distinctive than I recall. The hair contrasts with his pallid complexion. Adrian is the only other Pureblood I’ve met and he looked like a Roman statue brought to life. Vega is taller, with narrow features and prominent cheekbones, but still…remove the wig and his resemblance to Adrian would be uncanny.
“So I’m not quite sure where to start, I have a lot of questions, but I suppose I should start by saying ‘thank you.’ Thanks for sending Quinn to pull me out, even though from what I hear it was somewhat by accident. Thanks for your hospitality. The clothes, the blood, all of it.”
“You’re welcome, Lori. And it was not by accident. There was just another vampire we were also hoping to free from that compound. But one out of two is still a win in my book. And we have the resources; it’s no trouble.”
“It seems you always appear when I’m in rough shape. Believe it or not, I really try not to be this helpless and pathetic all the time. It’s not a good look on me.”
“Well, as they say, when you play with fire, you get burned. To my observations, it seems you tend to dive into the flames head first.”
“And now that you’ve pulled me out of the flames, what do you want in return?”
There is no anger or resentment in my words; I am genuinely appreciative, but with him my guard is always up. He is expecting the question, I can tell by his reaction.
“We have a common enemy at the moment, and while we have not seen eye to eye in the past, I hope we can on this matter. I would very much like to form an alliance.”
“I’m open to that. And without wanting to jump down a rabbit hole, I’d like to point out that we had a common enemy in the past. One you chose not to acknowledge. I’ll be interested in hearing from you how this one is different. I mean, Vega the Pureblood hanging out in Alaska; this has got to be pretty major.”
He forces a thin-lipped smile. His eyes show disappointment; he does not want another fight. Lucky for him, I don’t have the energy or the intent to do much more than clear the air.
“Sad thing is, you were right.” I return the smile. “About a lot more than I care to admit.”
“Well, I’ve got a few centuries of experience under my belt. Though while I’m tempted to say I learn my lessons the hard way, it looks like you may be ahead of me on that account.”
“Yeah,” I laugh, “seems like every time I see you I’m knocking on death’s doorstep. Not a pattern I’d like to keep repeating.”
“No, me neither.” His smile is not forced this time.
“So how did you know I was in the compound?”
“I didn’t. Well, let me clarify, I didn’t know if you were alive. But I knew you were going in with the DIA team. I was hoping it would play out better, of course.”
“You knew about the DIA, so did you know about Owen?”
His eyes register zero recognition. “Owen?”
“One of the DIA agents. He is a mole. Working for the Trion Group.”
“Oh. That’s highly unfortunate. No, I was not aware they had an inside man. Wish we had an inside man…” Vega rubs his neck, a tired expression on his face. “Did you encounter any other vampires?”
I shake my head. “No, and I can confirm they don’t have any.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Is it?”
“They got one of ours a few days ago.”
“Oh…oh right…Nicholas?”
Vega nods.
“The cell next to mine was empty. And if they still had another vampire, I would not have been kept around.”
“You sure?”
“Brixton wanted me to turn her.”
At that Vega goes rigid and his eyes harden.
“She didn’t just know who I was, she knew what I was. I mean I’m sure Owen told her, but she seemed to know a lot about our kind.”
“Brixton has been making waves lately. I don’t know quite how she’s done it, but she’s put together an impressive team of scientists from a variety of disciplines. She has some of the most brilliant minds in the world working for her. We believe they are being held hostage, but maybe not; maybe she’s paying them handsomely for their work. Money does not seem to be an issue for her.”
“I know ho
w she got her dream team,” I add.
“Oh?”
“Your hostage assumption is correct. She’s been sending trained mercenaries to kidnap scientists, doctors, engineers, you name it; if they can help serve her cause, she captures them. She’s using them to develop military-grade weapons. And I’m not talking tanks.”
“Right, well, it’s good to know not everyone inside her corporation is an ally.”
“Speaking of her organization—this Trion Group—why this PMC? What about them has gotten the attention of the great and powerful Vega?” I jest, but it’s a serious question given his complete and utter lack of interest in Striden’s plight.
“I know these security contractors are taking their job seriously. In the sense that they are genetically engineering demons; messing with werewolves, vampires, whatever they can get their hands on. They are using artificial intelligence to equip these mutants with sophisticated weaponry. What they are building is stronger and more powerful than anything I’ve ever witnessed.” Vega studies me for a reaction. I nod in agreement.
“I’ve seen some of their technology in action. There are a few prototypes out there.”
“What she is attempting to do to vampires goes against everything our order stands for.”
The DIA should have enlisted him instead of me.
“With Adrian gone, how many Purebloods are even left? I mean no offense and it doesn’t make what Brixton and her group are doing any less reprehensible, but I’m wondering if there is anyone left to enforce the old laws.”
“There are a few others. A few like Adrian and I, may he rest in peace. Then there are others that do not exist the same way I do…some of the older ones are more like vessels, energy not confined to flesh and bone; they can take many forms. But their eyes never change…Remember that should you encounter one. Some Purebloods view vampires as an abomination of our species, thus they are not all allies.”
“But they created us, did they not? Isn’t that like hating your children?”
“Turning humans was initially more of an experiment in itself. It happened to take; vampirism spread and those that didn’t do the turning weren’t all that thrilled about this new evolution of our kind. So a compromise was formed and laws were enacted to keep the Purebloods happy. But even I have ancestors, Lori, and while they didn’t care about the wolf problem, they do care about Brixton, because her experiments are aiming to replicate what the Purebloods accomplished rather by accident.”
“To make vampires?”
“Indeed. The fact that she tried to get you to turn her means that she hasn’t had any luck.”
“You really think it’s possible to turn a human through technology? Like performing a transplant of sorts?”
“No, I do not. But she may succeed in creating something else entirely, a new species. Some Frankenstein version of a demon.”
I think about the creature I killed with Xan and Dade a while back, when we first encountered the black box device.
Vega has a point.
“Yeah, I see what you mean; it’s disconcerting to say the least.”
“This issue with Brixton, this is a cause I have taken up. Adrian stepped up when the wolves presented a problem, but he was old and weak; eternity takes its toll on all of us. You start to lose your grip on reality like he did and you welcome the sunlight.”
“That’s what Marcus said. Time still wins in the end.”
“How is Marcus?” Vega’s disposition changes at the mention of his name.
“I am sure he is doing just fine. I haven’t spoken with him in months.”
“Something happened, didn’t it?”
“Catch happened.”
“I am sorry; he was a great warrior and a loss to our kind. Noble vampires are few and far between. But that’s not what I’m reading from you. It’s something else.”
“Tell me, Vega, why don’t you trust him?”
Vega shrugs. “Marcus is all about Marcus. Self-preservation is his only motive. I don’t trust a man I cannot fight alongside.”
“You trust me?”
Vega stands, pours me a fresh glass of blood.
“Yes. More than most.”
“Why? You know I can’t say the same.”
“Because you didn’t turn Brixton.” He hands me the glass and heads for the door. “Now get some rest. We have a lot of work to do.”
Chapter 8
Owen curses as the wind whips at his face and the muzzled beast sends him flying off the dog sled with another sharp turn. The snowmobile cuts off the wolf and he heels long enough for Owen to regain his balance and right the sled.
“This thing isn’t a huskie,” the guard yells from the snowmobile. “I don’t think Brixton expected you to take her literally.”
Owen shakes snow off his jacket, grunts.
“It worked well getting through that nasty tunnel. I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do with this mongrel now, though. She made it out the other side. We know she reached this road.”
“He’s got the scent and we’re staring at fresh tire tracks; we just got to follow.” The guard gestures to the back of his two-seater. “Ditch the sled and hop on.”
Owen unties the harness. Sensing slack on his restraints, the wolf springs forward and takes off down the road.
“I just hope he leads us to somewhere secluded and not into a populated area,” Owen grumbles as they race off after the wolf.
***
“Do you want us to get you another werewolf, boss?” A guard stands at attention a few feet in front of the desk where Brixton sits reviewing files.
The glass desk responds to her touch as she turns pages of the document. Brixton’s office is modern and sparsely appointed with the large hourglass-shaped desk and hanging translucent glass monitors being the most notable objects in the room. The office takes up an entire wing of the top floor and a door behind the desk leads into Brixton’s private living quarters.
A couple monitors suspended above her desk display camera feeds from inside the labs while others lining the walls of the room stream news feeds from across the globe and footage of field tests broadcasting directly from Trion’s satellites. Everything is muted and the only sound is the tapping of Brixton’s manicured nails on the glass tabletop. She looks up.
“Not now. We’ll see how that one does in the field. Problem with them is, once they are turned we lose control. And they can’t make effective use of our technology. I think we need to move on from the wolves.”
“Understood, boss.” The guard moves to the door, then, realizing he hasn’t been dismissed, catches himself. “Will there be anything else?”
Brixton shifts her focus to one of the monitors displaying a live feed from a lab.
“How are the plasma tests coming along?”
“Last report I received indicated that they are in the final stages. We’ll need a vampire to test it on.”
“Yes, we will.” She studies the monitor. “That man—that’s Dr. Warren, right?”
The guard leans forward to get a better view of the screen, then nods.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Go and fetch him for me, will you,” she says in a way that’s clearly not phrased as a question. The guard exits promptly and returns a minute later with the doctor at his side.
Brixton looks up as he enters.
“Come in. Dr. Warren, is it?”
“Yes, but you can call me Paul.” The man nods, offers a nervous smile.
“That will be all,” she says to the guard and he disappears, the sliding glass door sealing shut behind him.
She gestures to one of the two chairs in front of her desk. They look about as comfortable and inviting as the plastic hardback seats at sports arenas. Paul nods and sits; an averagely built guy, he looks like a giant in the little avant-garde desk chair.
“Paul, can you confirm we have the plasma here? The synthetic blood?”
“Yes ma’am, we have about a dozen samples in the lab. The
bulk of our supply is at the other lab though, where it’s being manufactured.” He fidgets awkwardly in his seat. His ankle bracelet clanks against the steel frame of the chair. He freezes up as if he’s just activated a detonator.
“Please have a couple samples delivered to me. How about the suits?”
“Several of the exoskeleton prototypes are ready. We are scheduled to test durability later today against high-powered firearms and various types of explosives. I’ll have a full report for you tomorrow.”
“Good, very good.”
“And the tissue samples and blood we took from the vampire; any progress on that end?”
“I’d have to check with Dr. Copel, but they’ve hit a few snags with the genetics; I don’t believe the experiments are producing satisfactory results.”
Brixton pulls up some charts from the digital files in her desk and studies them. After a moment she sighs.
“We need actual vampires, don’t we?”
“I can’t say for certain as that is not my area of expertise, but yes, from my understanding it would appear so. Or at least to harvest some organs. Bone marrow would be useful. To my knowledge, they’ve had no luck isolating any adult stems cells from the existing samples. It might be that vampires themselves don’t generate them or we may just need to fish from a larger pond, so to speak.”
“Yes, it is a shame they keep dusting on us during the experiments. We may need to change our approach.”
“You worked on the blood in the San Francisco lab, correct?”
He nods.
“How confident are you that it will work as a blood substitute? By, say, vampire standards?”
“Very. My team feels that the synthesized plasma compound will be nearly indiscernible from real blood.”
“That’s good to hear.” Brixton leans back in her chair. “Thank you for your time, doctor; please return to your testing and let me know how things turn out.”