Song of Midnight Embers

by Dana Marie Bell

  He was here to kill the head rat.

  The demon had set its sights on Mollie, and while they now knew that Arlene and Lena had nothing to do with the demon, Bernadette had. The demon had gone after Kate, who’d easily succumbed to the promises it had made to her. She’d given up her soul in order to capture the attention of Dragos, almost destroying his mating to Mina before it even began. It had tortured Mina and done the same to Selena. Whatever deal it had made with Bernadette, it hadn’t infected her with the blood. Greer believed this was so that she would pass inspection if she ever came under suspicion.

  Now, its focus was Mollie, and he couldn’t let that go. It would swallow his sweet mate whole, a fate Greer wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

  No. The demon’s physical form would die this night. If Lore was right, Nelson Rhodes, the head of the Van Helsings, was here tonight to inspect the lab. If he was the demon, then most of their problems would be solved in one slash of a midnight-dark blade.

  How Lore knew Rhodes was in the building didn’t matter to Greer. He’d come to trust the psychic during their investigations. Lore was steady, and when he’d told Greer that the information had come from a trusted informant, Greer was willing to believe it.

  If it turned out he was wrong, then the psychics would be looking for a new leader. If Greer didn’t kill Lore, Dragos or Noah would.

  For now, all he had to do was concentrate on getting into the building. Above him he could see the open window he’d targeted. Greer crept up the scaffolding like a quiet spider until he reached his objective. He quickly stuck his head in, looking for any people he might have missed. If someone were there, he might have to retreat and try this another night, or risk going to one of the other open windows to see if he could get in that way.

  Seeing no one, he slipped inside, checking to make sure the floorboard was sound before putting his weight on it.

  Now came the truly difficult part. The building was a wreck, the construction still ongoing. Tools were scattered all over the place. Some of the framing was in place to indicate rooms and hallways, while drywall was stacked here and there, waiting to be put up. Subflooring existed in some spots, while bare joists were all he had to walk on in others.

  If they were putting down subflooring, that meant fewer creaks, so that, at least, was something. He’d have to watch out for tools and humans, but that should be it.

  Greer flowed through the rooms, sliding between two-by-four framing until he found the stairs that led down.

  Out of the corner of his eye, another flash of light. He slid back up until he was certain he was in shadow, listening with bated breath for the footsteps of the human wandering the empty halls.

  “Sid? That you?”

  Fuck. The human must have heard him.

  “Sid?” The flashlight came closer to the stairs.

  “Over here, asshole.” Another voice, another light, and a human appeared out of the darkness. This one, Sid, strode toward the first light, laughing. “Afraid of things that go bump in the night?”

  “Fuck yes. Why do you think Rhodes has us doing extra patrols tonight?” The first human sounded relieved beyond belief, but Greer didn’t care. He’d just gotten confirmation that Rhodes was somewhere nearby, giving orders to these men. “Besides, if anything happens here, You Know Who will hand us our asses.”

  Greer listened, soaking in the information these men were cluelessly handing him. Who the fuck was You Know Who? The demon?

  “Mr. Bradley has taken down more monsters than all the rest of us combined,” Mr. Scaredy said with awe. “I think he’ll be good for the Knights.”

  Ah, yes. Greer had almost forgotten that the Van Helsings called themselves the Knights of Hercules, slaying so-called monsters for the greater good. Assholes. The majority of supernaturals were men, women and children, just trying to live out their lives without getting their heads cut off, or sucked into a djinn lamp, or having a stake thrust through their hearts.

  “Remember how pissed he was when we lost the Maryland facility?” Sid was whispering, as if this Mr. Bradley could hear him somehow. “Man, I thought he was going to kill Rhodes.”

  “Speaking of getting dead, we’d better get back on patrol or Rhodes will kill us.”

  “I hear ya.” Sid’s flashlight turned. “See you in the middle.”

  “Ditto.” The two lights headed in opposite directions, finally leaving Greer alone in the dark.

  He made a mental note to mention Mr. Bradley, most likely of the Bradley Group, LLC, to Dragos and Lore. Whoever it was who ran the Van Helsings now scared the hell out of their small-time troops. He had to be even more ruthless than Nelson Rhodes had been if he’d taken over so easily.

  Unless...

  Greer froze.

  Unless this Mr. Bradley was the demon. A demon could easily step into a place of importance in an organization based on hate and fear. A demon would lead the Van Helsings right to where they wished to be, while taking everything from them at the same time. It would consume their humanity until nothing but the hate remained, then aim it at the supernatural community, causing even more pain and hatred for it to feast upon. And Rhodes might not even know it. Or if he did, he might have been the one who allowed it.

  More and more, the situation confused the hell out of Greer, but for right now he needed to get to the data Bernadette had given them. If he could also kill Rhodes, it would be even better.

  Greer continued down the steps, dodging guards until he reached the first floor.

  So far, so good. All he had to do now was find the door to the basement and make his way to the lab. He kept trying to tell himself it would be a piece of cake.

  His self laughed itself stupid at that idea. Greer shrugged and moved, keeping himself away from the patrols with ease. The open framing made it easy for him to see the flashlights and avoid them completely.

  Greer finally found the door to what he believed was the basement. He pulled a spray can from the small pack he always carried on such trips and oiled the hinges, counting to twenty to allow the lubricant to work its magic. While he waited, he examined the door for any hidden wires, motion detectors or any other device that would indicate he’d opened the fucking door.

  Nothing. Greer scowled over that. Perhaps Lore’s information had been wrong, and the lab wasn’t here after all. If Greer found nothing, they’d have to start all over again. Tracking the black blood would become a nightmare, and Mollie would still be in danger.

  Greer opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief when the hinges were silent. Inside the door, there were no signs of an alarm, no indication that even basic motion detectors had been set up.

  Either they thought they were safe, or there was something here Greer couldn’t see. He had to go down, check it out, make sure that the basement was clear before checking the topmost floor for the lab.

  Slipping back past the guards and heading back up the stairs would be a pain. He was just glad this was a fairly clean construction crew. Construction dust had been swept to the sides or into corners, out of the way of the workers. He’d left no footprints behind that he could detect.

  Greer stepped onto the first step, ready for something to spring out at him and try to kill him on the spot. He was so tense he was pretty sure he’d shit a diamond when he got back home.

  Nothing. Again.

  Now Greer was really starting to wonder. Had Bernadette managed to fool them all, even after death? Had this been a dummy setup all along, with the packages being forwarded the gods knew where? If so, he was going to be pissed.

  A faint, barely there humming noise began once he hit the bottom step, a sound Greer knew. It was the hum of electronics, but where was it coming from? He could already see the basement was empty, devoid of anything but antique water heaters and a big old boiler meant to heat the entire buil
ding but probably couldn’t reheat a cup of tea now.

  He kneeled, putting his ear to the cold, dirty concrete.

  There. The humming was louder with his ear to the ground. The lab was in some under-basement below this one.

  No wonder the Van Helsings hadn’t worried too much about security up above. All any cop or passerby would have seen were patrols keeping vandals out, or protecting the workers’ tools. Coming into the basement, all you would see was a whole lot of nothing. Hell, if he hadn’t been listening for the sound of gas escaping or a clicking noise meaning he’d stepped on a pressure plate, he never would have heard it at all.

  Thank the gods for being paranoid.

  So. If there was a sub-basement, that meant there was an entrance. One that would be hidden, well guarded and probably booby-trapped.

  Just what Greer had expected. No tools or hardware worth snot was down here. Just dust, dirt, an old industrial boiler and an ancient water heater.

  Greer turned toward that old boiler. It was huge, easily the size of a freight train car, with a round door-like porthole on the front, like a hobbit hole. Half of it rested on some sort of block, the other half with just a steel beam to keep it from tilting down. On the side were a series of dials, valves and pipes that must have been used to heat the warehouse. He eyed it up and down, backward and forward, paying special attention to those dials and valves, but found nothing. Not until he checked the hobbit door a little closer. He sighed with relief when he found what he’d sought.

  There. Just where the old rivets around that porthole were. A gleaming, clean bit of metal, barely an inch in length, taunted him in the dim light of the flashlight he’d dug out of his pack.

  This was how they were getting in and out of the lab without using a door. How they got anything larger than a man in or out was something he’d have to discover once he was inside.

  Greer made sure there were no active alarms or traps on the boiler. The only one he found he was able to deactivate with a little cursing and time, time he might not have if someone decided to come up that way for a late-night snack.

  The opening mechanism was on the very front, a huge, rusted-out-looking fly bolt the size of his head. The original fly bolt must have been used to open up the circular bit of metal it clung to, allowing the owner to check the oil or water levels in the tank. The only reason Greer knew it wasn’t the original was because that rusted fly bolt looked slightly different from the rest. On touching it, he realized the rust was faked, the fly bolt turning easily in his hands.

  The front of the boiler swung open, revealing a well-lit, circular elevator. Greer debated stepping inside but realized they’d be able to see him once he did. Damn it. He’d been hoping for a ladder, but he’d figure out a way to work with this.

  When the elevator began to descend and the boiler door to close, Greer did the only thing he could think of. He jumped in at the last moment, landing on top of the elevator.

  Down and down it went, farther than Greer had thought, the hum of electronics growing louder as they neared their destination. It wouldn’t be long now before he bloodied his blades and gained vengeance for Mollie, Mina, Selena. Hell, all of them who’d been touched by or destroyed by the Van Helsings and their pet demon would get vengeance today.

  The elevator stopped, the doors below him swishing open.

  “What the fuck?” a voice spoke from below. He could hear someone enter the elevator below him as Greer searched for a way to get down and into the lab. “No one’s in here.”

  “Run diagnostics. Maybe we have a fault somewhere,” another voice replied.

  Two, then, at a minimum.

  Whoever was in the elevator left, and the doors swished shut once more. That was Greer’s cue. There was no emergency hatch, just a bunch of electronics on top of the elevator.

  He’d have to rip away the top of the elevator somehow, but that wasn’t going to be quiet. He’d definitely wind up alerting someone that he was there, but it was his only choice now.

  Greer began punching the top of the elevator, grunting a bit as a splinter got stuck in his skin. He closed his hand on the edge of the hole he’d made and pulled, yanking off a good portion of the elevator top.

  “What the hell?”

  “What’s going on?”

  He hopped down as the elevator doors swung open. Two men stood on the opposite side, wearing expressions of astonishment on their faces.

  That look remained after he slit their throats. He left them behind him, choking on their own blood, and studied the room before him.

  Before him were two industrial double doors. On either side of him, gray corridors led away, with more doors, some double, some single. He sniffed, but he didn’t have Noah’s sense of smell. He couldn’t taste the air the way the alpha could. If there were any victims down here, Greer would have to find them the old-fashioned way, by using his eyes.

  First things first, though. Greer headed left, checking the first door only to find an office. It looked well used, the desk stocked with documents, coffee mugs and a framed picture of a smiling family.

  Greer figured the computer would be password protected, but he booted it up anyway, checking the area for sticky-notes that might contain the password. Three of them had possibilities. One had the word SUPERNATURAL, one DELIVERER and the third CHAMELEON.

  He typed in the first and got an error message. The second got him into the system, and there, on the desktop, he saw a shortcut folder called CHAMELEON.

  He opened it up quickly, keeping his eyes and ears open for any movement outside the office. The glow of the monitor was the only true light in the room other than that coming in from under the closed door. Greer began reading the files in the folder, cursing under his breath as he saw medical note after medical note. They were written like a visit to the veterinarian, with the name of the lab at the top. It listed species, age, weight, shots given, dates, an invoice number and quick notes from the doctors doing the testing.

  Far too many had Deceased stamped across them. He’d have to hand this list to Lore, let him notify the families of those lost. He couldn’t think beyond that, not until he was done.

  He made a mental note of each doctor attached to each file. Those men and women would receive a special gift basket from Uncle Greer sometime in the near future, whether Mina sanctioned it or not. Slitting their throats would be satisfying on a deep, personal level.

  It appeared to be a shared file, which meant that unless this was the main terminal, which Greer doubted, simply deleting the folder wouldn’t do any good. The user could replace the folder and all of the data with ease. He’d need to find the origin of the file and erase that.

  None of the data on black blood appeared to be on this computer, so Greer simply pulled out a USB flash drive, plugged it in and copied the CHAMELEON folder onto it. He made sure all the files were there before removing the flash drive and shutting down the computer once more.

  The next couple of rooms were the same, simple offices with very little in them. The double doors in the center of the hallway led to a loading area, with stacks of the same types of cages he’d seen when they’d raided the Van Helsing compound a few months before. He was utterly revolted at the sight, but there was little he could do without burning the building to the ground.

  It was tempting, but not yet. Not until he knew he’d gotten what he’d come for.

  Greer headed back to the elevator and slipped between the double doors across from it.

  Here was the lab equipment he’d been looking for. He could see two men whispering to each other, their white lab coats stark against the gray walls. He crouched down and slid into the room as silently as he could, using their whispers to guide him between the lab tables.

  The moment came when he was on them, but the whispers stopped as a phone rang halfway across the room. He c
ould hear the scrambling footsteps of one of them heading away from his location. He peeked around the table to see the other still there, biting his finger.

  Greer grabbed him and snapped his neck, dragging the dead man behind the table and making sure he couldn’t be seen. He slid around the lab table as the other lab rat spoke on the phone, mainly saying things like “yes, sir” and “right away, sir.”

  Greer wasn’t about to let the man do whatever “sir” wanted him to. He waited until the receiver was placed down before giving this lab rat the same treatment he’d given the other.

  Both men were tucked behind a lab table, hidden from the double-door entrance. Now all Greer had to do was figure out if any of the missing black blood was here, and what they were doing with it.

  There. A cold storage unit. Greer walked over and riffled through it, finally finding what he’d sought. Vial upon vial of black blood, some of it marked with the same invoice numbers he’d found in the CHAMELEON files, some with blank labels. He snapped a picture on his phone of the vials with labels before calling for his blades once more.

  Each vial was carefully destroyed, the fire in his blades making sure none of it escaped. If he was right, it was already too late. People had been injected with the black blood much like they’d been at the Maryland laboratory.

  Damn it. Greer had prayed that wasn’t the case, but it looked like his prayers weren’t going to be answered. The only hope those people now had was to be cured from the inside out. He had to find them and free them. It took priority even over killing Rhodes.

  “—telling you, these guys know what they’re doing, Bradley. Leave it alone.”

  The double doors swished open just as Greer ducked behind one of the lab tables.

  “Fuck me.” Footsteps, running toward the cold storage unit as the man continued to curse up a storm. “Motherfucker! Bradley, someone broke in. We’ve been breached.”

  “No kidding.” Greer stood and held out his blades. “Hello, sir. Would you by any chance be Nelson Rhodes?”