“I got it, Frank—you’re a vault.” She glanced sidelong at Claudius. “But, if I wanted to go to him now because I have the bad feeling he’s in trouble, there’re other ways for me to find out where he is.”
“You’re only supposed to use Claudius to get at a true Underground location if you need to, Dawn. That’s what Costin told me.”
She tapped her foot on the ground.
When her dad didn’t take her baiting, she blew up. “What if Claudius did set Costin up? Wouldn’t you regret not saying anything?”
“I doubt Costin would want us to stumble into the same trap, so, no. I wouldn’t regret it.” He shook his head. “I just wish I’d grabbed Della and brought her down here. She would’ve been an easier interview than Claudius.”
The Friends had barred the team from the girl vamps during the evacuation and, besides, the Queenshill chicks had been real fast in getting down those stairs and to that fire.
Dawn huffed out a sigh as she glared at Frank. Damn it. It wasn’t like she was going to work him for information like she had with Claudius, so the only source available to her was in this room, on a bunk, acting like an asshole. And to make matters worse, Costin had told her not to go after the info, anyway, unless there was definitely a worst-case scenario—and she couldn’t prove there was.
He so didn’t trust her to stay put and allow him to do his job. But she probably wouldn’t have trusted her, either.
Hell, it was only because she wanted him safe.
Her gaze swung toward the master vamp, a pillow still over the side of his head.
Surely I’d feel if Costin was gone, Dawn thought, wondering just how far she’d take this paranoia that was chipping away at her. Costin was probably kicking ass in the Underground and the team just hadn’t been around the schoolgirl vamps long enough to see them change, reflecting the termination of Mihas.
Kiko moved toward Claudius’s bunk, and the vamp’s nose twitched from the space between pillow and blanket, as if he’d scented someone coming near.
“How about this for a compromise?” Kiko said. “I say we go ahead and parlay with Claudius, here, for peace of mind. If he could tell us the real Underground location, Frank can verify if it matches what Costin told him. That way we’d know if we should be worried about the boss or not.”
“And if Claudius gives us a random location just because he knows it’ll make us worry?” Frank asked.
Natalia spoke. “That’s a possibility.”
Dawn didn’t care.
Her voice was thick as she said, “Maybe we could just get Claudius to reveal what would be waiting for us if Costin is trapped and we had to go after him . . . after we dealt with the Underground, of course.”
Before she could truly see if emotion would overwhelm her or not, she reached for Claudius’s pillow. Kalin allowed her to tug it away from him.
Kiko was right by Dawn’s side. “Hey, Mr. Bloodsucky.”
Frank backed up Dawn, too, and Natalia did the same to Kiko.
“Before you drift off,” Dawn said to Claudius, “we’d like to pose some questions.”
The master vamp yawned, showing his disdain, and Dawn whipped out, mentally smacking him.
She almost did it twice, too, until she felt a burn near her neck, attaching itself to the latest mark, which she hadn’t even bothered to look at yet.
She gritted her teeth and held back.
ABOUT an hour and a half later, Claudius was in a deep, probably self-inflicted rest, his eyes open, hearkening back to his near-coma state.
They’d gotten nothing out of him, and Dawn had been sweating with the effort to contain her temper.
“Stubborn dick,” Kiko said.
He and Natalia sat on one of the lower bunks, holding the shirt and jeans Dawn had shed in favor of a shower and another set of black clothes, including a turtleneck that covered the smack of darkness she’d known would be on her neck, attached to the one before, just like some kind of growing tribal tattoo.
But she’d gone beyond fighting it and into accepting that this was her life now. There was no consistency, even when it came to this mutation or devolution.
As Kiko and Natalia looked over Dawn’s clothing, she remembered the saw-bow, the injury to the keeper.
The flying blood.
“Check my shirt for Shadow’s blood stains,” she said to them. Black material wouldn’t make the blood obvious, but they’d find the traces.
Dawn let them go for it and headed toward Eva’s room. In Claudius’s present coma state, he had a reprieve since it was just about impossible to get him out of it right now. But she’d try again soon to put the full-court press on him. Meanwhile, the Friends would guard and bind the master vamp since the spirits were refreshed, relieving each other after some of them took root in their portraits back at old headquarters.
Since the Friends weren’t complaining about the inconvenience, Dawn had persuaded Frank to take some rest, too. Then they could talk about him going back to regular HQ to rescue portraits before any vampires might return. It wasn’t as if they’d realize the paintings were special, and God knew Frank needed to recharge his own powers during the daylight. Besides, there was the whole “low profile” thing they needed to keep.
Grumbling, he’d agreed, then gone to his own small room, which was next to Eva’s.
Dawn halted on her way to her mother’s, a thought popping into her mind.
“What if we split into two teams?” she asked Kiko and Natalia.
“Huh?” he asked.
“If I was able to force Claudius into cracking and he told us what we’d need to be prepared for with any traps Costin might be caught in . . . What if, then, Frank and I, plus some Friends, went to the Underground while you two went to Costin? You didn’t promise him you’d stay away from a rescue.”
Natalia glared at Kiko. He frowned. She was keeping Kiko in line, and he was a prime candidate for it after letting in that vamp earlier.
“Okay,” Dawn said. “Just thought I’d put it out there.”
“It’s just not a good idea to split any attacks up,” Kiko said. “Maybe that’s what Claudius is trying to get us to do, anyway.”
Point to Kiko.
Dawn left them to go about their investigation, cruising by Claudius’s bunk. His staring eyes made her think of those holographic images in Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion—eyes that followed you as you passed.
She just wished this were an amusement park ride.
Reaching the room where the Friends had tucked Eva, Dawn rapped lightly with her knuckles, then eased open the door. A slat of light fell onto a metal bed in a corner, where a shape filled the blankets.
Sleeping, Dawn thought. When was the last time her mom had woken up?
She entered, leaving the door open for some scant illumination. Eva’s long, salon- blond hair silked over her pillow, her face turned toward the wall, one hand peeking out of the covers.
It was her healthy hand—the one she hadn’t drawn blood from the other night—so there wasn’t a bandage on it. Then again, Dawn hadn’t really spent quality time with her mom in days, so it’d probably be scarring up by now, especially with the aid of healing gel.
Her mother’s breathing changed rhythm, and Dawn waited for her to wake up. But what would she say?
“Mom?”
Eva’s breathing evened out. Pretending to still be asleep. Acting!
Not a surprise since her mother had been the best actress ever, setting up her supposed human murder to cover her vampiness and her existence in the L.A. Underground.
Dawn’s hands hung at her sides. She said something anyway, even if she was only talking to the air. “I just wanted to see if you were okay after all the excitement. And I’m . . . Well, you’ve been in a bed for a long time. I don’t think that’s a good thing.”
And . . . silence.
But she had the feeling that Eva was hearing every word.
“Mom, I know what’s going on. After the deb
acle with Frank, you feel like there’s no hope. Nothing for you. But I want you to know that there is . . . something. I’m here.” She’d always been here, wishing for Eva.
She thought she heard her mom’s breathing stop for a second, but then it started up again.
“All right.” Dawn started to leave. “I also wanted you to know that Frank’s not as angry as you think he is about ‘the incident.’ I’m not angry, either. I even . . .” Dawn pulled at the side of her jeans. “I just want you to come back, Mom.”
Now, even if her mother had said anything, Dawn didn’t want to hear it. She was too used to not having Eva around, and she was sure her mom was just going to tell her to bug off, anyway.
So she shut the door behind her, going back into the main room, choosing a random bunk distant from where Kiko and Natalia were working.
She couldn’t sleep, so she kept one ear tuned for Claudius to stir and one tuned for the hopeful return of Costin.
Time seemed to thunk by as neither one happened.
TWELVE
DEEPER
EVA had turned onto her back, and long after Dawn departed, she stared at the ceiling, her blanket tucked around her neck. It was quiet—almost too quiet—and she was waiting to get out of bed until she knew what the team was doing.
So she listened. Listened closely.
With a clarity she was still getting used to, she heard Frank moving around in the room next to hers and, even though he didn’t have his light on, she was able to see the outline of the adjoining door through the darkness, as if Frank was emanating preternatural energy. Strange to be able to sense that. She also caught Kiko and Natalia talking in low tones just above the grind of the temporary headquarters generator—something normal hearing wouldn’t have sorted out from all the other sounds.
But Eva wasn’t very “normal” anymore. She wasn’t . . . the same. She wasn’t even aware now of the heavy sensation she’d carried in her soul ever since she’d turned from a vampire back into a human—an inner weight that constantly reminded her of how she’d been inhuman, how she’d sinned against nature by trading herself in for the promise of long- lasting fame and glory. Dawn had confessed that she’d felt the same soul stain inside of her, too, and Eva had heard through the doors when no one thought she was listening that her daughter had started changing, maybe because of what they’d carried over with them during the transition.
Eva had always wondered if every vampire-turned-human was cursed to change, and it seemed that, like Dawn, she was finally doing it . . . but only after Frank’s last rejection.
And after meeting the man at the wine bar.
She smiled, enjoying the sharpness of the sounds and sight. She’d missed these sensations from her time in the Hollywood Underground. Recently, as “Mia Scott,” a private citizen who’d been remade under the care of plastic surgery and relocation, she’d been so bored. Deadened to life.
But not now.
Pushing down her blanket, she sat up. She’d been bedridden, her hair matted and tossed, but her body felt clean. Everyone thought she’d been sick, and they’d left her alone as she’d gotten better . . . and better. But she wasn’t physically ill. Maybe stoned was a better word. In fact, when those little girls had attacked headquarters earlier, Eva had hardly even needed a Friend to protect her while she’d been ushered to these temporary quarters, because she felt strong.
Stronger than ever.
She hadn’t told anyone that, though. She’d just come here to her new room, waiting until everyone went to sleep.
Waiting until the time was right to feed herself again.
She closed her eyes, hungry. She knew what would fill her though, and she was ready to get up and do what she’d wanted to do so badly for a long time now—longer than she’d been in London, mooning around Frank and wishing he would realize how much she still loved him and how good they could be together. Longer than she and Dawn had tried to mend their relationship since settling here when Costin had gotten a strong bead on this Underground.
She had the means to get what she wanted now.
Taking off the bandage she’d put on her hand to hide the marks where she’d drawn blood for Frank, she thought of how she’d run far away that night, humiliated, out of headquarters. She’d run and run until she’d ended up at a wine bar, where she’d met a man who hadn’t told her his name. A man who’d offered her a finely made handkerchief to dry her tears. And when she had looked up at him, she’d seen understanding in his slightly tilted light brown eyes.
Handsome, with black hair slicked back and coming just to the line of his jaw, an alluring smile. Much too tempting for a lonely woman who’d just been rejected.
Now, she looked over her healed hand, and she wasn’t surprised that there were no scars. Not after what the man from the wine bar had given to her.
Memory surged: The man taking her downstairs to a silent cove under the wine bar, where bottles were stored. The man whispering to her, making her an offer. Her accepting it.
It had all happened so fast, before Dawn had gotten there. A prick of Eva’s skin, a bit of her blood, a pact she had gladly entered into . . .
Carefully smoothing out her nightgown, she paused at a faint smudge of dirt that had been hidden by the draping of material.
Thinking that she would need to change soon—but not now, not yet—Eva walked to the adjoining door, as drawn to Frank as she’d ever been. And maybe even more now, as her appetite for him pulsed.
Last time she had gone to him, she’d failed, but this time, he wouldn’t be able to resist, and unlike before, Eva didn’t second-guess what she was doing.
She opened the door, not knocking this time, and she saw another door besides, on his side. Her hunger pierced her. Then she noticed an alarm system rigged to sense movement.
Please. With Frank’s vampire abilities, he’d know she was coming, anyway.
Or would he . . . ?
Eva touched a wire that led to a box on the alarm. She wasn’t well versed in the team’s systems, but she knew that she could fool this one into ignoring her, just as she’d done to the Friends as well as the laser tracker and security camera back at primary headquarters when she’d sneaked outside the night before last. Manipulating them had come as a surprise to her, but she’d done it naturally, as if there was a voice whispering instructions in her head. She’d only followed its direction, just as she was following her hunger now.
She opened the second door, finding Frank, a glowing figure in her eyes, in the darkness. He wasn’t resting, like he should’ve been. Instead, he held a mini flamethrower, inspecting it.
He was already cocking his head at her entrance, his sensitive vampire hearing having picked up her approach.
“I guess we need to check these alarms,” he said, already dismissing her. She’d caused him a lot of grief because Breisi hadn’t blamed him for giving in to the lure of her blood as much as she had for him taking pity on Eva afterward.
“Hello, Frank,” she said, making her voice different—a call over the waves of normal sound.
He stopped fussing with the weapon and ran a gaze over her.
She was glad she was wearing the nightgown—an intimate garment, long and white. Maybe it reminded him of their honeymoon, before she’d tried to secure a future for her family by going Underground, deserting him and Dawn, who’d been just a baby. But Eva had thought she’d been doing the right thing until she’d learned otherwise.
When Frank’s voice came out choked, she knew that she had more power than ever—even over him, a vampire.
“If Breisi comes back from patrolling outside to find you in here,” he said, clearly fighting what he’d heard in her voice, “there’ll be trouble.”
“You have no idea what sort of trouble.” Eva wasn’t sure why she’d said it, but she was certain she could live up to the threat. She felt that good. That . . . renewed.
Her comment made him wary, and he resisted some more. “I’ve got to go back to head
quarters, get Breisi’s portrait, maybe even a few others. The Friends won’t have any place to refuel without those paintings, and they can’t risk rooting to them in a place that’s been compromised by those vamps.”
Just being near him, her body was humming, wanting, needing. And it needed more than it had gotten earlier, before she’d returned to the old headquarters, creeping back into her bed after feeding outside.
But it wasn’t blood that sustained her.
“Baby,” she said, urging him, using the endearment from long ago. “Just come to me.”
He tilted his head again, then rose, dropping the flamethrower to the bed and walking toward her.
Joy shot through her. She had him.
She lifted her hand, her fingertips brushing his cheek. A raw, electric current seemed to zap through her, nourishing her, taking from him, and he jolted, his eyes widening.
His skin was cold, inhuman, but he still had a heart that beat. He was still a male, with male memories and urges that hadn’t been stolen by vampirism, and that was what she yearned for.
The adoration.
Even a hint of it made her go hot, her pulse digging into her. Her own memories rose to the surface—her and Frank kissing, them loving each other so fiercely that she had almost given up stardom and worship from millions just to live happily ever after with him.
Until the Underground recruited her.
She touched his cheek again, her fingertips lingering on his jaw as his skin—even a vampire’s—shriveled a bit.
“Relax, Frank,” she said. “Then you can go get that portrait. And I can see to it that you don’t remember what happened here, between us. Not until you’re ready to accept it.” She had altered the memory patterns of that boy in the college sweatshirt, and she was going to give it a try with Frank, too.
When she trailed down his throat, whisking over the center of it, she knew that she’d stolen his power to move. But she wouldn’t have to take as much from him as she’d taken from her earlier victim. The college boy had been her first, and she’d been unable to stop herself from pulling out too much sustenance. Frank’s vampire power was stronger—what he gave her would be a hundred times more potent and wonderful.
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