Blood Hunt

by L. L. Raand

  Sylvan gripped Drake’s hand. “What does that mean?”

  “The Prima’s transformation was total,” Nadia said. “We’ve detected no mutagens in any of the tissue samples.”

  “Then I’m safe?” Drake asked. “There’s no chance that I could transmit any kind of antigen through the mate bond and endanger Sylvan?”

  “No, none that we can find.”

  Drake sagged against Sylvan, grateful for her solid presence. She would be destroyed if her love for Sylvan ever hurt her. “Thank you.”

  Nadia and Leo both grinned. Leo said, “We don’t often get to deliver such momentous news. You’re very welcome, Prima.”

  Sylvan rumbled and kissed her. “I told you there was nothing wrong. I’m your mate. I know.”

  “Yes, Alpha,” Drake murmured, nibbling on Sylvan’s lower lip. “But sometimes a scientist needs hard evidence.”

  Sylvan snarled softly. “You try me.”

  “So you’ve said.” Drake took a deep breath and turned back to Leo and Nadia. Knowing she wasn’t a danger to Sylvan relieved most of her fears, but not all of them. “What about the viability of my eggs? Am I sterile?” Her heart faltered at the prolonged silence. “Just tell me what you know.”

  Leo flicked a quick look at Sylvan, then swallowed. “We can’t tell, Prima. Our reproductive process is more complicated than in humans. The hormonal mix, the deregulation of the suppressor RNA, initiating the mitotic cascade—there’s no way to simulate it in the lab. If we knew how to do that, we could potentially enhance the fertility of our species and protect ourselves from the threat of extinction.”

  Drake nodded. “I understand. If you could control the regulator proteins, you could improve our reproductive capabilities. And if anyone could reverse that process, they could potentially destroy the species.”

  “Yes, which is why our research is so carefully guarded.” Leo frowned. “It would be difficult to disrupt the process, however. Someone would need to develop multiple immunoglobulins or antigenic proteins to counteract the reproductive cascade.”

  “Agreed,” Drake said. “Although there are theoretically numerous points at which antigens could block the neurotransmitters and pheromones in the victus.”

  “Even so,” Nadia said, “deactivating the mitochondrial receptor sites would almost certainly not be one hundred percent successful.”

  “But anything that significantly impairs our already low fertility rate could effectively catapult the species toward extinction,” Leo added.

  Drake pulled at the thread that had been mentally teasing her ever since they’d learned of the females’ disappearance. If Were scientists were studying this phenomenon, then maybe their enemies were too. That would explain the abduction of adolescent females whose reproductive potency was nearly peak. The process would be lengthy, though, and keeping the whereabouts of the females secret would be a top priority. “If someone kept a Were in a negative-flow environment, so that no scent could escape, could the Alpha’s awareness of the Were be impeded?”

  Nadia sucked in a breath and glanced at Sylvan, then quickly away. “The Alpha’s connection is more than physical. Her ability to sense us might be impaired if some of the physical signals were blocked, but I don’t think it would be total.”

  Drake paced across the room to where a coffeemaker was tucked into the corner of a long counter. Since she’d turned, she wasn’t really susceptible to the caffeine effects, but she couldn’t break the habit of drinking it while mulling over a problem. She wondered if the Revniks kept it for the same reason. She leaned her hips against the counter and sipped the excellent brew. Sylvan remained on the other side of the room with the Revniks, proof enough that their breeding frenzy was over. Until just a short while ago, they could not have tolerated that much separation. The pangs of disappointment returned, and she ruthlessly shoved them away. She rotated the ceramic mug in her hands, watching the dark liquid circle in the cup.

  “What if a physiological barrier were created in conjunction with the negative-pressure environment? That might effectively block all of the Alpha’s connections.”

  Leo frowned. “But what?”

  “Silver,” Drake said. “Perhaps aerosolized, injected intravenously, or even impregnated in the substance of the structure. Maybe all three.”

  “It’s possible,” Nadia said. “Silver nonspecifically and irreversibly binds to multiple cellular receptors sites, deactivating them. It essentially neutralizes many of our subcellular systems, and that translates into organ failure and death. The brain would be affected as much as any other part of the body.”

  “How many facilities in a hundred-mile radius would be capable of creating that kind of environment?” Drake asked.

  The Revniks looked at each other.

  “We have one here,” Leo said. “Every Level Four facility should be capable of adapting those kinds of barriers. It would be expensive, and time-consuming.”

  “All right. So even if a facility had initially been built as a standard Level Four, it would need to be modified.” Drake looked from Leo to Nadia for confirmation.

  “Yes,” Nadia said vigorously. She turned to a nearby computer and began rapidly inputting data. “Let me see how many are in the search area, but that still won’t tell us which one.”

  Sylvan said, “What about tracking new construction or the movement of large amounts of materials? Can you draw up a list of what would be needed to modify the facility?”

  “Of course,” Leo said, “but it’s unlikely Weres are behind this. Humans may be moving the materials by rail or boat or truck.”

  Drake glanced at Sylvan. Becca or Jody might be able to help us.

  Sylvan nodded. “Nadia? Anything?”

  “I found three facilities in addition to ours that could be readily modified for this kind of…experimentation,” Nadia said, sending information to a nearby printer. “One not far from here, another in Vermont, the other in Massachusetts.”

  “We’ll start with those,” Sylvan said. “Expand the search just in case those prove fruitless.”

  “Yes, Alpha,” Nadia said.

  “I’ll get the materials list,” Leo added.

  Drake set her coffee cup on the counter and returned to Sylvan. She might not have the desperate need to be in constant contact with her, but even without the primal force of breeding frenzy, she wanted, needed, to touch her mate. Sliding an arm around Sylvan’s waist, she said to Leo, “I’ll need you to run some more blood assays on me.”

  “What are we looking for?” Leo asked.

  “Reproductive hormone levels and circulating antigens to my genetic material.”

  “Why?” Sylvan growled.

  Don’t worry, love. Drake rubbed Sylvan’s back. “I may appear to be genetically Were, but it’s possible my human immune system created antibodies to the Were reproductive hormones even while I was transitioning. My body may attempt to breed, but I may already be programmed to destroy any possibility of that happening.”

  She didn’t need to say what they all already knew. If she couldn’t give Sylvan and the Pack offspring, then they needed to make plans for Sylvan to find another way to fulfill her destiny.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Veronica held up one hand, signaling for Adam to wait while she finished her call. He stopped in the doorway of her office, looking a little bit like an animal with its leg caught in a trap. She swiveled her high-backed leather chair toward the windows that looked out over the Green Mountains. “As I told you in my interim report, I expect concrete results very shortly.”

  “You do understand our urgency.”

  The familiar, modulated voice grated as it usually did, whether in bed or in the boardroom. How she detested bureaucrats. Regardless of their politics, their philosophy, or their station, they were all parasites who lived off the brains and initiative of others. “I totally understand your situation. Your needs are always my priority, in every way.”

  He chuckled dryly. �
�And you, Dr. Standish, know exactly how to exploit a man’s weakness.”

  “As I recall,” she purred, “there’s nothing weak in your repertoire.”

  “There doesn’t seem to be where you’re concerned,” he said. “So I can tell my associates to expect something soon?”

  “Very soon.”

  “Dinner on Friday? The Governor’s Benefit for the Arts?”

  “Of course, darling. I wouldn’t miss it.” Veronica disconnected and swung her chair back around to her desk. She pulled a stack of paperwork in front of her and asked, without looking up, “What is it, Adam? I have reports to review before this morning’s session.”

  “That’s what I came to tell you,” he began hesitantly.

  Veronica slowly set the budget summary aside, a chill settling along her spine, and eased back in her chair. He seemed to flinch when her gaze met his. “What?”

  “I’m afraid she’s not ready.”

  “What do you mean, she’s not ready?”

  Adam swayed in place, as if he wanted to flee but his feet were nailed to the threshold. “The guards went to retrieve her forty minutes ago so we could get her prepped.” He licked his lips. “They radioed that she appeared to be in a weakened state, so I went to check on her.”

  Veronica frowned. “Ill? I saw her last night, and she seemed in fine form. Besides, they’re animals. Their physiology prevents them from contracting human diseases, and these subjects haven’t been exposed to anything else. You are monitoring the serum silver levels, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, three times weekly, per protocol. The last biopsy specimens showed the expected diminished cellular activity, but no evidence of tissue death.”

  “Well then, she should be well enough for what we need.” Veronica returned her attention to her reports.

  He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s not a systemic issue, it’s…”

  Veronica tossed her solid-gold Waterman onto the desk and rose abruptly. “I don’t have the time or the inclination for riddles. What is the problem?”

  “There’s evidence she had a nocturnal emission. A substantial one. We aren’t going to be able to get appropriate specimens from her today.”

  “Let me see if I understand this.” Veronica straightened her gray silk pencil skirt and walked around her desk in measured steps. She locked onto his face as she crossed the room. He paled, a fine sheen of perspiration coating his forehead despite the air-conditioning running full force. She’d wager the follicles on the back of his neck were standing up. His penis certainly was—he displayed all the adrenergic signs of an animal trapped by a predator. She nearly smiled and didn’t stop walking until she was so close to him his erection brushed against her thigh.

  “We’ve had them how long?” she began conversationally. “Several months, isn’t that right?”

  He nodded, his pupils flickering wildly.

  “We’ve never had a problem collecting specimens. But now you’re telling me that’s impossible. On the day I expressly stated I needed to have results?”

  He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple quivered like a small animal lodged in his throat. He was either about to wet himself or ejaculate in his underwear. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “Do you have an explanation?”

  “We’ve…ah…never observed this behavior with any of the subjects before. They aren’t known to have spontaneous emissions, but apparently she did. She’s somnolent, and even with moderate stimulation, we can’t produce any kind of erectile response.”

  Veronica lifted her brow. “Stimulation?”

  “As you know, if physically challenged, their response is in part sexual. Low-level electrical current will always produce engorgement of the genitalia.” He grimaced apologetically. “Nothing is producing a response this morning.”

  “What about the second one?”

  “We could certainly use her,” he said eagerly. “She hasn’t produced the sample volume the other one does, and the chemical mixture seems to be altered, but—”

  “They’re not equivalent specimens, that’s what you’re telling me. What kind of scientist willingly accepts inferior data? Are you suggesting I’d be satisfied with less than—”

  “No, no, of course not.” A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face.

  “We have yet to determine why there’s a variation in the hormone profile between two clearly dominant females.” Veronica stepped even closer, her body invading his personal space, the taut plane of her skirt pressing his erection back against his abdomen.

  “But then,” she said softly, “we don’t know very much at all, do we? Because we haven’t, despite all our efforts, despite all the money and resources we have thrown into this project…we haven’t been able to answer any of the critical questions, have we?”

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  “Are you?” she whispered, her eyes boring into his. He looked like he might whimper, and his nearly palpable fear made her clitoris pulse pleasantly. She slowly smoothed her hand down the front of her skirt, the backs of her fingers brushing over the ridge in his trousers. He sucked in a sharp breath.

  “I need you to take care of this problem, Adam,” she said gently, almost apologetically. She leaned a little closer, her mouth inches from his. Her pelvis grazed his. Slowly. Firmly. “Can I count on you? Can I count on you to take care of this problem?”

  “I will. I will—oh God—I…” His hips lurched and his face contorted.

  A satisfying warmth spread through the pit of her stomach as she watched him struggle to regain his balance, his chest heaving. He always did have a tendency to ejaculate too quickly. “Reschedule for tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” he said hoarsely.

  She turned away, paused, and said over her shoulder, “E-mail me a printout of the log book for the isolation corridor airlock. Let’s see what made last night so different.”

  “Yes,” he said, backing out into the hall. “I’ll do that right away.”

  She sat down at her desk and retrieved her gold pen. “That’s wonderful. I knew I could rely on you.”

  As soon as he disappeared, she pressed a button under the edge of her desk, and a wall panel slid open to her right. A bank of eight monitors showed video feeds from various areas of the complex. She programmed in a download for the data from the cameras outside the holding pens in the restricted area of the research wing, congratulating herself on having kept the presence of the cameras a secret. In her business, it paid to trust no one.

  Becca was pulled from sleep by the ringing of her cell phone. She snatched it up before the “William Tell Overture” awakened Jody. Chagrin and the faintest bit of sadness gripped her for an instant. Jody wasn’t sleeping, and she wasn’t going to be awakened by the phone ringing. Jody’s breathing was so slow, at first Becca had been terrified she might actually be dead. Only after lying perfectly still for several minutes and shutting out every extraneous thought, even blocking out the thud of her own heartbeat, had she finally been able to detect the faintest sound of Jody breathing. When she’d pressed her hand beneath the curve of Jody’s breast, she couldn’t feel a heartbeat. She’d bitten her lip so hard to keep from crying out she’d tasted her own blood. Then, there, at last, Jody’s distant heartbeat had fluttered against her palm, such a fragile tremor her own chest had ached.

  Jody was somewhere beyond Becca’s reach, but she lowered her voice and rolled over on her side away from Jody all the same. “Becca Land.”

  “Ms. Land,” Sylvan said. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

  “That’s quite all right, Alpha. Is something wrong?” Her pulse immediately started racing. What if they were in danger? God, what if they were attacked? Jody was so vulnerable, lying there naked and helpless. Jody had assured her she would rouse if threatened, the way a bear in hibernation instinctively reacted to its cave being violated, but Becca didn’t see how Jody could possibly react in time. A fierce surge of protectiveness rushed through her. “Is the
re danger? Should I get Niki?”

  “No, forgive me. With Niki on guard, you’re safe. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Becca said. “I’m not usually this nervous, but—”

  “I take it you’re still with our Vampire friend.”

  Becca stroked Jody’s hair and rested her fingers against Jody’s cheek. She was as cool and beautiful and lifeless as a statue. “Yes, I’m with her.”

  “You won’t have to leave her for what I need.”

  “How can I help?”

  “I need some information, and I was hoping you might have sources who could provide it.”

  “Just a minute. Let me make some notes.” Becca carefully rose from the bed and found her purse on a chair on the far side of the room. She tucked her phone against her shoulder and rummaged inside for her notepad and pencil. “Go ahead.”

  “I need to know if any construction permits have been filed for major renovation on three locations during the last two years. These would not be minor repairs, but major expansions. Perhaps licenses or plans were filed with the state or municipalities or—”

  “Don’t worry. That’s all pretty standard. I know where to check,” Becca said. “Give me the locations.” She scribbled down the information. “Okay, what else?”

  “This may be trickier. We’re looking for orders for large volumes of certain building materials. The list is not long, but we’re not sure how they were shipped.”

  “So I may need to access bills of lading through the port or trucking manifests,” Becca muttered. “Can you e-mail me the list?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Read it off to me just so I have some sense of what I’ll be looking for.” Becca made more notes as Sylvan listed various construction components, some of which seemed very strange. “Wait a minute. Did you really say nuclear exhaust fans?”

  “Yes, the type used for cooling and circulating the air in nuclear reactor silos.”