“That what!” Ellenshaw snapped.
Acheson shoved his wallet back into his pocket. “That if you want to come back in, we’ll make the accommodations. After all, no one knows Osric better than you, and if you have an appetite for revenge, this is the time. Or you can stay here in Santa Barbara. It’s up to you, Robert.”
“Get the hell out of my house!” Ellenshaw snapped.
“You might want to take some precautions, Robert. They’re onto us, and there’s a chance they might be onto you, too.”
With that, Acheson showed himself out. Less than ten minutes later, he was on the 101 headed back for Los Angeles, leaving behind the soft greenery of Santa Barbara.
2
Back at the roof-side pool area, Tremaine lounged about in the bright sunlight. The haze of smog that obscured the hills to the north did nothing to mask his view of the U.S. Bank Tower. He examined it lazily from behind his sunglasses. There was little to see, but he was certain his Master’s enemies were ensconced within the gleaming construct, no doubt setting about the task of exacting revenge. Tremaine knew a massive effort to find the Family was likely underway, comprising a vast array of resources both in and outside of Los Angeles. A great deal of the Family’s strength came from staying hidden, but was that enough? He hadn’t the courage to question the Master’s wisdom for attacking Acheson’s woman, any more than he could reason his body out of drawing its next breath. But whereas his body functioned on instinct, obeying a set of autonomous commands ingrained at the cellular level, the Master relied on a complex web of inputs and intelligence, of which Tremaine himself was but one small part. It took little to convince Tremaine that the Master knew exactly what he was doing.
Tremaine checked his Rolex. He had just enough time for a shower and lunch before his next appointment with Holly. Ah, the joys of sex, he thought, smiling to himself.
***
Despite the events of the previous night, it was a busy day on the 68th floor of the U.S. Bank Tower. With Acheson out of the office and Sharon confined to the Plant, Julia McGuiness led the day’s efforts. When she wasn’t stalking the floor and riding herd on the intel analysts, she was in her office poring over raw intelligence. Most of it was gathered from news reports in the public domain—the Internet and sundry media agencies offered a wealth of information for free, even if tainted by bias—but she also had at her disposal data from several other agencies. High on that list were the local honchos: LAPD, LASD, and the district office of the FBI.
It didn’t help that their quarry was cunning—no, outright brilliant—when it came to masking their operations. Mankind itself provided them with substantial cover, since rampant crime routinely spiraled out of control in the heavily populated centers. And leading the way was Los Angeles: upward of 1.6 murders a day, most of them gang-related, which the vamps used to their advantage when stalking human prey. It was a successful tactic. While vamps didn’t often employ firearms—there were indications it was culturally repugnant to them—it was not unheard of. In addition to the several thousand people in the Los Angeles County area who disappeared annually and were never found again… it made for a daunting picture.
But the detail that afforded the vampires the most protection was their singular ability to remain in the shadows; their existence was, simply put, purely unbelievable. For them, Mankind’s ignorance was their greatest bliss, and what a wonderful safety net it afforded. Even the most aggressive homicide investigation would never determine vampirism to be a victim’s cause of death. Vampires were things of film, of fiction. Even if someone was compelled to broach the subject on a professional level, everyone knew concluding a vampire had murdered a victim meant the end of an investigator’s career.
At the same time, she and the Group’s analysts wrestled with historical evidence that indicated vamps avoided the heavy population centers whenever possible, taking up residence for only short periods of time. Feeding was the obvious reason for that; prey was bountiful, but the risk of exposure was great. Remaining undetected was their greatest strength, since once a Family was found, it was eradicated. But another potential reason for operating in a large population center was to gather intel on humankind. Julia considered this seriously. It made sense for the vamps to try and learn how their quarry advanced, adapted, and lived. After all, the more they learned about humans, the more easily they could operate among them.
So Julia pored over the vetted reports, looking for anything unusual, something that might indicate a center of gravity for vamp operations. As a rule, vamps operated close to their home base. But in Los Angeles, a city connected by superhighways that were usually passable in the wee hours of the night, that base could be located anywhere within a 4,000-square-mile area.
But all of these issues were secondary at the moment. While Julia focused dutifully on her task, her mind was busy analyzing other factors. How had the Group been compromised? How did the vamps know the Group had relocated to Los Angeles? If the real target was Acheson, how had they known to use Sharon to get to him? And why not come after the entire Group, as opposed to merely fanging one member?
Julia suspected there were wheels turning within wheels. And that was what frightened her the most.
***
“How am I doing?”
The question seemed to startle Andrew Kerr and the female PA tending to Sharon. Kerr’s eyes widened behind his surgical mask, and he cocked an eyebrow.
“At long last, a real question. Are you coming back to us?”
Sharon leaned back on the hospital bed and stared at the lights overhead. “Am I Turning?”
Kerr finished drawing blood and handed the vials to the PA assisting him. “Allison, I’ll handle this from here. You get those samples to the lab, please. Yi-Ting will want to get right on them.”
The PA nodded and made her way out of the tank. The airlock door hissed closed and cycled shut behind her.
Kerr sighed and placed his latex-gloved hands on what would pass for his hips. He looked at Sharon with a frankness that almost made her uncomfortable.
“Are you Turning? I don’t know yet. You definitely have a high concentration of RMA in your bloodstream, and I don’t think it’s dying. But the count isn’t increasing, so that’s a good sign.” Kerr placed a hand on her thigh, where she’d been bitten. “How are the wounds?”
“Healing. You already know that.”
“And aside from the wounds, how are you feeling? Dizziness, nausea, sensitivity to light, lethargy?”
“Doctor, I’ve been through a hell of a lot. All I want to do is to sleep.”
Kerr nodded sympathetically. “I don’t doubt that, and that’s normal. How’s your strength, overall? Any weakness, tremors?”
“Nothing!” Sharon snapped. “How long are you people going to keep me here? How long are you going to treat me like a… a leper, or something?”
“No one’s treating you like a leper. You’ve been fanged, and you’re infected. We’re trying to help you.”
Sharon rolled into a sitting position with one sudden movement. Kerr stepped back, startled. Sharon smiled thinly.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said.
Kerr seemed relieved, and Sharon realized the portly researcher wasn’t used to being read so easily. After all, in the clinical environment, he was supposed to be the master of the domain, as enigmatic as God Himself.
“I didn’t think you would,” he said unconvincingly.
“You can relax, doctor. I’m not ready to do any biting just yet.”
“An encouraging sign,” Kerr replied. He stepped toward her and looked her in the eye. “Tell me how you are. With no bullshit, if you please.”
Sharon thought about it for a long time. “Physically… I’m okay, I guess. Tired, but not in any pain. Mentally… that’s a different matter.” She paused for a moment. “I watched him kill my niece right in front of me, Kerr. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. I tried, but…”
She bowed h
er head as hot, stinging tears spilled down her cheeks. She released a rattling sob, fighting against the tide of despair with everything she had. It took some time, but in the end, she won. As she always did.
Sharon dried her tears with the back of her hand, ignoring the tissue Kerr held out to her.
“I’m all right,” she said, her voice still choked with emotion. She cleared her throat forcefully. Pull it together, woman! “Sorry, Doc.”
Kerr pulled his surgical mask from his face. When he smiled at her, Sharon was surprised to find the sight of his exposed face so comforting. It made her feel human.
“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Sharon. You’ve been through hell, and that you’re handling it this well speaks volumes.”
If you only knew, Kerr. I guess you’re not as smart as we all give you credit for. Sharon wisely kept the uncharitable, entirely self-centered sentiment to herself. After all, Kerr and his staff were only trying to help.
Are they really? she asked herself a moment later. They’ve hit the mother lode with me—a cooperative subject to study and experiment on…
“Careful, Dr. Kerr. You’re exposing yourself to some potentially nasty germs.” She pointed to his unmasked face.
“Nonsense. There’s never been any indication that the virus exists in anything but an infected human host, or a full-on vampire.” Kerr’s smile broadened, and he reached out and put a hand on Sharon’s shoulder. He sobered quickly.
“I want you to know that we’re doing everything we can for you. We’ll spare no expense, and we have the Plant staffed 24/7. If we can come up with anything that can help, we’ll apply it. I promise you this.”
Sharon inclined her head toward him, staring down at her bare feet. She felt mortally embarrassed. Did he know what she had been thinking? “I know, Doc. Really.” She straightened, and refocused her gaze on his face. “Now… what’s going on outside? What’s the plan?”
Kerr shrugged. “I’m not sure. Obviously, the Group is being thorough, and Washington has piled on the resources. I have dedicated supercomputer access for a few hours tonight, all to process the findings of your specimens.”
Sharon couldn’t share the scientist’s apparent joy at the prospect, but she understood he meant well.
“Where’s Mark?” she asked.
Kerr frowned slightly. “He’s left the city for a brief time. Some sort of errand. Julia’s running the show for now, but I’m sure the boys in Washington have Mark jumping through hoops.”
“I’m sure.” But where the hell was he when I was getting fanged? Where was he when my family was being slaughtered? “Do you have any idea when I’ll Turn, doctor?”
Kerr blinked. It was obvious the question made him uncomfortable, but there was no getting around that.
“As I said, I don’t—”
“Andrew, please. I’m not asking for any guarantees, but I need to know how much time I can expect.” Sharon kept her voice steady.
“I simply don’t know,” Kerr said.
“You don’t understand, Andrew. I’m not looking for comfort here. I’m a realist.”
Kerr slid his hands into his the pockets of his lab coat. “Then what exactly are you looking for?”
“I’m a member of the containment team. And we both know that as a stiff starts to turn, it becomes a member of the vamp’s coven, and that a link of sorts is established between the higher order vamps and the… the ghoul.” Sharon paused, swallowing. Turning into a mindless ghoul, thirsting for blood and capable of only the most animalistic responses… the thought of it chilled her to the bone.
“I’m hoping that the farther I advance, the closer I’ll get to the vamps. I’ll be able to sense them, where they are, where they’re sleeping, maybe even what they’re up to.”
Kerr shook his head. “Our intention is to prevent you from Turning. You’re going to remain human, Sharon. You’re not going to turn into—”
“You don’t know that. And if I have a choice, I’d rather go out making some sort of contribution instead of just sitting here and Turning… and Mark knows that, too, which is why he said that I was going to help find Osric.”
Kerr folded his arms across his chest and sighed. “I think you need to temper your desire to ‘remain useful’ with the reality of the situation. In order for us to treat you effectively, in order for us to be able to respond to the changes in your condition, you need to remain here. Not on the outside, doing whatever it is the containment team does. I’m sorry, but that’s just not going to happen.”
“Well now, that might not be your decision to make,” Sharon said. “I appreciate your logic, but the fact is this: As a patient I’m very likely a lost cause, and any useful data you collect during the transition is going to be a goldmine for you and those who follow your work. Correct?”
For the first time she could recall, she saw anger sweep across Kerr’s normally placid face like a thunderstorm churning across a Kansas cornfield. His bushy brows knitted and his dark eyes narrowed.
“I resent the implication you’re making,” he said. “I take my responsibilities quite seriously, thank you very much, and the lion’s share of those responsibilities entail ensuring this team can continue with its mission!”
“No offense, but I’m pretty certain my short-term contributions will outweigh yours,” Sharon said, unfazed by his outburst. “There’s a tremendous amount we simply do not know, and the situation I’m in might make up for that.”
Kerr stared at Sharon for a few moments, his face still set in lines of anger, but she could see the wheels of his great intellect turning as he processed what she had said.
“I understand your position,” he said finally, “but it’s not realistic. You’re sick, Sharon. You need treatment.”
“Which I can get whether I’m locked up here or working on the outside. If things start to degrade and I become more of a liability, then you’ll have no argument from me.”
“So what do you expect from me?”
“Let me out of here. Let me return to the Group and work on finding these vamps. We know what we’re dealing with, and it’s absolutely up to no good.”
Kerr sighed again and clasped his hands behind his back. He turned away from Sharon and began to pace. The floor area was small, with the bed and medical equipment filling the room and his own bulk contributing to the clutter. But pace he did, four steps in one direction, four steps back. Sharon eased herself back onto the edge of the bed and watched.
At last, he stopped and turned to face her. “I’ll bring it up to Mark and Julia. If they agree, I’ll release you into their care. If not, then you stay here with no argument. But if your condition deteriorates, and you find yourself establishing a link with the vamps, you report such immediately. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough,” Sharon said.
***
“Where were you last night?” Claudia asked.
Chiho tried her best to control her emotions, but it was useless. Once onto something, Claudia had all the tenacity of a pit bull.
They were in their apartment in a high-rise building in Santa Monica, packing clothes. As Acheson had obviously been tailed and targeted, the rest of the team was taking no chances. Everyone was moving to the Plant. It was a novel event for Chiho. The Group had never been compromised before, and even the best laid plans were being executed slower than expected.
“Working, of course. Why do you ask?” Chiho responded as casually as she could.
Claudia finished packing her duffel and sat on the bed and watched as Chiho stuffed some clothing into her bag.
“At the house today, you and Mark were feeling pretty damned guilty about something,” Claudia said. “Even through all the despair and confusion and general bullshit going on, I could read both of you clear as day.”
Chiho sighed. “I thought your skill was a wild one, darling.”
“It is. But sometimes, it’s crystal clear. Today was one of those days.” Claudia rubbed at her eyes. E
veryone was going on no sleep and lots of adrenalin.
“So you were really working late last night?”
“Of course,” Chiho said.
“Then why so guilty, Chiho? Can you tell me that?”
Chiho only folded some shirts neatly and placed them in her duffel bag, pausing to smooth out some wrinkles.
“So you’re going to lie to me,” Claudia said dejectedly.
Chiho sighed again and straightened up. She put her hands on her hips and looked at Claudia for a time before softening her stance. She eased herself to the bed beside Claudia and took her hand.
“No. I won’t lie to you, Claudia.”
“Then tell me.” Claudia’s voice was barely more than a whisper, and Chiho didn’t need to be an empath to feel the emotion coursing through the taller woman.
“I was with Mark last night,” Chiho said. “Obviously, we weren’t just working. I’m sorry, but it… it…”
“Just happened,” Claudia said. “Sure. I thought you said you wouldn’t lie to me.”
Chiho was perplexed. “I’m not lying.”
Claudia withdrew her hand and rose to her feet. She crossed her arms and faced the wall. Chiho could see the silhouette of her face reflected in the mirrored closet doors. Eyes closed, jaw set in a hard line.
Oh Claudia, I’m so sorry.
“I’ve always known you wanted Mark,” Claudia said, the pain in her voice matched only by anger. “I could feel it, every time the two of you were together. Both of you acted so cool on the outside, but inside you were burning up, and the only thing that might have even masked that from me was the guilt the two of you felt. Even before today. Him feeling guilty because he was with Sharon, and you feeling guilty because you were with me.”
“It’s not like that at all, Claudia.”
“Don’t patronize me!” Claudia shouted as she whirled upon her, fists clenched. “I can feel your emotions like they’re my own! You love Acheson, and you always have! You might love me, too, but you outright adore that man and worship the ground he walks on!”
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