Zombie's Bite
Page 8
God, she hated this thing, Dory thought, pulling on a section of clingy fabric. It was already a sauna out here, so what was she wearing? An all-enveloping, figure hugging, hot-as-the-gates-of-hell body suit that only worked once and cost the earth and she was so losing her shirt on this job!
But that wasn't the worst thing, she thought, ducking under a limb with a thick, coiled snake draped around it. The worst thing was that there wouldn't be a paycheck at the end of it. The best she could hope for was getting out from under with a whole skin -- and an empty bank account -- and no prospect for all those lucrative future jobs that she'd already begun to count on.
She should have known it was too good to be true. Should have suspected the two smiling reps who showed up in Brooklyn in person because obtaining her help was so damned important. Should have done due diligence --
But that was just it. She had. She'd followed procedure, even after the extra-large retainer they'd left with her -- in check form, she recalled, wincing. Damned thing had probably bounced by now. But she hadn't let the amount scrawled across it stop her from calling the Latin American Senate itself to verify, that very afternoon. Which the bastards had no doubt expected, because she'd gotten all the right answers on the other end.
And it had been the senate's number. She wasn't stupid enough to use the one off the check! So whoever these suppliers were, they had connections at court. Enough to get someone sympathetic to answer the phone, in any case, which should make them easier to track. And she was going to track them. Oh, yes. After this, she so very, very --
Dory's thoughts cut out when she heard something off to the left. Something that sounded like a person striding through the undergrowth, and not being particularly stealthy about it. She froze beside the trunk of a tree, the mesh on her suit immediately taking on the appearance of crusty bark and moss. A flick of her wrist, and the screen over her face adhered into place as well, obscuring the last part that was still visible.
Chameleon suits cost the earth, although this one was supposed to be on someone else's dime. But they were worth every penny, she thought, as a human form emerged from the undergrowth. Oh, yes, they were.
Because it was the master, his power a hot prickle across her skin even a dozen yards away, his sharp dark eyes taking in the whole of the glade --
And sliding right over her, without even pausing.
And it looked like his nose wasn't liking eau de swamp any better than hers. Because he had breathed in at the same time, an automatic habit for creatures accustomed to using scent as much as sight. And now he was choking and swearing and coughing and tearing up.
Tell me about it, buddy, Dory thought, and tried to tamp down her heartbeat.
It was the only tell that might still give her away. The suit muffled it somewhat --considering what she was after, she'd insisted on the upgrade -- but this was a master. This close, he'd hear it; there was no doubt of that. But would he be able to pick out the human among all the scurrying, flapping, and swimming things around her?
She kind of hoped so.
Stop it, she told herself firmly. He isn't your prey. You're after the people who set you up. This one was played as much as you were, and lost a Child in the process. At least, that was the only reason Dory could think of for why a first level master in a designer tux would he tromping his way through a quagmire in the middle of the night.
Tall, dark and creepy hadn't been the Child of a Child, some distant hanger on of the clan several times removed, barely a spark in the darkness. No. He'd been made by the creature who had his head thrown back, his ears working as none of his other senses would do. Because that had been his Child who had died, his blood that had spilled on that motel floor, a burning sun in his firmament that had suddenly winked out.
Leaving everything darker behind it.
Dory scowled behind the mask. She hated shit like this. She liked a clean, open fight against an enemy who needed killing. Not some furtive chase through the dark, trying to avoid slaying someone who the human part of her felt slightly sorry for. And that the vamp part wanted to break, to kill, to feel the heady, sweet blood of a master welling up under her --
Stop it!
But it was too late. Her vampire nature hadn't caused her to move, or to utter a single sound -- she'd had too much practice for that. But it had caused her heartbeat to speed up. Not enough to alert most vamps, no, but a master? And one who had been looking for it?
Shit, Dory thought fervently, as the man's eyes suddenly snapped open.
And looked straight at her.
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