“I am Rodrigo,” the vampire said. “I do hope you don’t intend to waste time shooting. It does very little good, though the bullets can cause considerable pain.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Sharon said before she fired a burst into the vampire’s thigh. It groaned as the bullets tore through its waxy flesh and shattered the femur beneath. It slammed a hand against the wall and steadied itself.
“Have some more?” Sharon emptied the clip into the vampire’s chest.
In the moment it took to heal, Rodrigo glared at her with a fiery gaze that chilled Sharon to the bone as his influence wrapped itself around her mind like a powerful anaconda.
“Do not do that again,” he hissed. Sharon automatically dropped the empty MP-5 to the floor.
God… he took me over so quickly!
Rodrigo stepped toward her, fully healed now. He fingered the holes in his black trousers and frowned.
“A shame,” he said. “Armani. Very expensive.”
“It’s not like you paid for them with your own money.” Sharon couldn’t use her MP-5 against Rodrigo, that was true; but she could still use her tongue.
Rodrigo reached out and snatched a hold of her neck and stared into her eyes. The sounds of gunfire receded. All that she was aware of was the vampire’s cold, inhuman gaze as he seemed to peer directly to the core of her being.
“You’ve not progressed very far… you should be on the threshold of turning, yet you’re not. How is this?”
“Treatments,” Sharon whispered against her will. There was no denying anything.
“‘Treatments’? What kind of ‘treatments’?”
“Medical treatments… to prevent me from becoming one of you.” Sharon spat out the last word as if it were something foul-tasting.
The vampire grinned, but his eyes held no mirth. “You would rather be one of them?” Rodrigo nodded toward Claudia, cowering on the floor at their feet. He jerked Sharon around in a half-circle and slammed her against the desk, forcing her to look over the edge. Rick Wallace was sprawled face down on the floor, bleeding badly from multiple lacerations. His left arm was oddly bent between the elbow and wrist. “You see? Even the biggest and strongest are nothing compared to us! They’re our food!”
Rodrigo spun her around to face him. She’d been told the stare of a master vampire was a terrible thing to behold. She’d accepted that at face value, but now she knew the horrible truth. One could deny a master vampire nothing once it had you under its spell.
“You will serve your purpose, whether you wish it or not,” Rodrigo said. “The Master has already decided your destiny. You will be one of us. You are one of us. There will be no more delay.”
And with that, Rodrigo’s glare intensified, became almost explosive. Sharon gasped as she felt something inside her awaken. For an instant, she felt as if her body cavity were filled with insects, darting about amongst her internal organs, through her veins, into her very cells. Blind terror, colored with sudden agony, caused her to scream. She twisted against Rodrigo’s grasp, and he released her. She tumbled to the floor and writhed at his feet, wailing.
“The pain is necessary, and I apologize for it,” he said. “But your ridiculous science can’t prevent you from becoming a god.”
Sharon’s shrieks stopped as she passed out. Rodrigo knelt and placed a hand on her forehead. His fingers gently traced the lines of her face.
“Soon,” he whispered, as if to a beloved child. “Soon. Rest now.”
He whirled upon Claudia, and she shrank against the wall with a cry. He seized her chin and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were wide, crazy with fear. Rodrigo could have made that terror go away if he wished, but he allowed it to linger, using it to his advantage.
“If you ever want to see your lover again, bitch, you’ll do as you’re told, yes? You realize that you and your friends are nothing compared to us, yes?” When she didn’t answer, he seized a handful of her dark hair and tugged on it savagely. “Yes?”
“Yes! Yes, I know that…” Whatever else she had to say dissolved into incoherent sobs. Rodrigo knew from his Master that this one was as sensitive to the currents of the metaphysical realm as a true vampire, but wasn’t strong enough to stand against it for long. Just being close to the essential evil Rodrigo carried could drive her mad with fear. He rather enjoyed watching her suffer in this way.
Rodrigo fixed his gaze on her wild doe-eyes, calming her just enough to ensure she could memorize a telephone number. He forced her to repeat it twice, using his power to help burn it into her mind. Satisfied, he released her and rose to his feet. He marched to where Chiho and Julia lay. He snatched up Chiho’s limp form as if she were a large doll.
“No!” Claudia cried. “Don’t you hurt her!”
“Then do as you were told,” Rodrigo said. “Do that, and the two of you will be together forever.”
He saw the nursery was empty now, all the infants having been taken back through the ceiling. He felt the newlings as they crawled through the building, each holding an infant under one arm as they did his bidding. And outside, hiding in the darkness, Anthony used his own powers to urge them on. The newlings did not disobey, so great were the powers of two master vampires. Otherwise, there would be nothing to prevent them from feeding on the infants, the sweetest of meats.
But there was a chance the newborns could be harmed, and that risk came from other humans. Outside, police sirens wailed and helicopter blades thumped. Extending his senses, Rodrigo felt a net of humans closing in on the area. And he felt a vague thrill when one of the newlings fighting the humans Acheson and Ellenshaw suddenly fell in combat. The second was only moments from returning to the dead. No matter. There were many more waiting to take their place…
A gunshot rang out, and Rodrigo snarled as a bullet passed through his neck, almost causing him to lose his grip on Chiho. He whirled to face his attacker, expecting it to be the woman’s lover—perhaps Claudia wasn’t as weak as he had thought. He was surprised to find it was the man he’d hurled through the window minutes ago. He had crawled around the desk, his injured arm across his chest, while his good hand held a pistol. Rodrigo frowned. Perhaps he had underestimated some of these cattle after all.
As Rodrigo looked on, the man’s pistol drooped toward the floor and his eyes rolled back into his head as he passed out.
Rodrigo felt the second newling flicker and drop off his preternatural radar. It was time to depart, and in such a way that Anthony and the other newlings could escape with their precious cargo.
As Acheson led the humans came around the hallway corner, Rodrigo faced them, showing them Chiho’s limp body in his arms.
“Take care you don’t hurt your friend. She still lives as one of you.” With that, he then turned and bounded down the hallway, leaping over the McGuiness woman as she began to stir.
Surprisingly, gunfire rang out. Rodrigo hunched over as two bullets flew past him while a third struck him center mass, exiting his chest right above Chiho’s body. More bullets slapped at the floor, nipping at his legs as he ran. The humans were firing on him, even though he held one of their own!
But in no time he had reached the end of the hallway. Rodrigo leaped into the air, curled his body around Chiho’s, and smashed through the window and into the night. The first LAPD squad car had braked to a halt at the hospital’s main entrance when the vampire crashed onto its hood, crumpling it like aluminum foil and shattering the cruiser’s engine mounts. Rodrigo knelt and absorbed the impact as the car bottomed out on its suspension. He glared at the two terrified police officers inside before running off into the night.
***
“Two-Six, this is SHADOW, over.”
Acheson ran to the window the vampire had leaped through. He leaned out and shook his head at the sight of the gathering LAPD cruisers.
“SHADOW, this is Two-Six, go.”
“Two-Six, SHADOW… we’ve got what seems to be one individual heading down the street on foot, and he seems to
be carrying one of your team. Heading northwest, toward two…”
Acheson looked to his right and saw the vampire carrying Chiho vault over two police cruisers as if they were lowlying hurdles. The two squad cars screeched to a halt.
“… ah, right over two LAPD patrol cruisers, over.” From the Black Hawk helicopter orbiting overhead, Zaslow maintained a professional tone, even though he must have felt he was in an episode of The Twilight Zone.
“SHADOW, Two-Six. Keep him in sight for as long as you can! We’re on our way down!”
“Roger that, Two-Six.”
***
Rodrigo sprinted down the street. Helicopters clattered overhead, and sirens wailed as more black-and-whites surged into the area. Suddenly he was bathed in a pool of light as one of the aircraft shined a powerful searchlight on him. He hissed in annoyance, squinting against the glare. Footsteps fell behind him as a clutch of police officers pursued him on foot. They gave up when it became apparent that for every step they took, Rodrigo took five.
A motorcycle officer screeched to a halt in Rodrigo’s path. Rodrigo laughed and overran the policeman’s position before he could dismount. He slammed his shoulder into the cop’s helmeted head with brutal force, driving both man and machine to the ground.
He approached a manhole in the middle of the street and set the Hara woman on the ground beside it. The metal cover was screwed into the roadway by a giant bolt. Rodrigo smashed his fist into the CITY OF LOS ANGELES legend again and again, until the cover bowed inward and the bolt holding it in place snapped like a firecracker. Rodrigo wrenched the cover from its resting place just as the first police cruiser pulled up behind him. Two more pulled around the first, boxing in Rodrigo. Doors opened, and men leaped out of the cars.
“Police! Freeze!” The patrolman closest to Rodrigo aimed his Glock pistol at him.
Another one stepped around the fender of the cruiser, pistol drawn and at the ready. “Turn around and put your hands on your head! Do it now!”
“Or you will do what, exactly?” Rodrigo said, almost rolling his eyes. He tossed the manhole cover aside as if it were a toy.
“I’ll drop you, asshole!” the second cop shouted. He wore sergeant’s stripes on his sleeve and a waistline that was well into its middle-age expansion. And he was frightened. One didn’t need the heightened senses of the Undead to divine that the man’s pulse rate was through the roof. He struck Rodrigo as one of those men who adopted a hardcore façade at the station house, but when it came to dealing with the more physical aspects of police work, he would prefer to steer clear of the action.
“Do it!” the sergeant roared.
Rodrigo sighed and turned his gaze to the first patrolman. The man shuddered slightly when he met Rodrigo’s eyes, then relaxed as an enraptured expression spread across his face.
“Shoot him,” Rodrigo said, nodding toward the older cop. “And then shoot the man behind you.”
The patrolman immediately turned and pointed his weapon at the patrol sergeant. The older cop’s eyes bugged out of his head.
“Hey, what the fu—”
He was cut off in mid-sentence by a single pistol shot. The patrolman spun and fired at the policeman behind him. He didn’t have time to make a sound as the nine millimeter round punctured his skull and he crumpled to the ground.
The patrolman turned back to Rodrigo as the other cops began to panic. They alternately pointed their weapons at their fellow officer, then Rodrigo, then back again.
“Larry, what the fuck is wrong with you?” one of them shouted. “Drop your weapon! Drop it now!”
“Shoot them all, Larry,” Rodrigo said.
As the gunfire began, he snatched up the still form of Chiho Hara and dropped through the manhole, disappearing from sight.
***
“Two-Six, this is SHADOW. Over.”
Acheson, Cecil, and Nacho were sprinting down the stairs when the Army pilot’s voice came over the team’s headsets. Acheson stopped on the landing and allowed Cecil and Nacho to slip past him.
“SHADOW, go for Two-Six. Over.” Acheson dropped in behind Nacho and stumbled down the stairs. He grabbed the handrail and steadied himself.
“Two-Six, SHADOW. This is going bad real fast. We’ve got multiple police officers down. Looks like they shot themselves or something. Target is gone. He escaped down a manhole. Over.”
Acheson’s heart lurched in his chest. Chiho! “SHADOW, what about Two-Five? The target had Two-Five—what happened to her? Over.”
“Two-Six, SHADOW. Can’t say for sure, but it looks like Five’s gone with the target. Listen, the local airspace is getting crowded, over.”
“SHADOW, Two-Six. You do whatever you need to do, over.” The three men hit the last landing, slammed open the stairwell door, and charged into the corridor beyond.
“Freeze!”
“Drop your weapons, drop your weapons!”
“On the ground right now, you fucking assholes—hit the deck!”
“Police! Drop your weapons! Drop ‘em drop ‘em drop ‘em!”
No fewer than eight police officers waited in the corridor outside, all screaming at the same time. Every weapon they had was pointed at the team. Beyond them, Acheson saw three other cops covering Ellenshaw, who was on his knees as a fourth officer placed him in handcuffs.
“Homeland Security! We’re Homeland Security!” Cecil shouted back. He lowered the barrel of his SAW but didn’t release it. Nacho assumed a crouch, his MP-5 shouldered but held low. His face was set in a hard mask. Acheson could tell that if push came to shove, he was ready to rock and roll right through the police.
“I don’t care, put your fucking weapons down. Last chance!” shouted an older cop with gray hair at his temples. He looked more like a movie star than a street cop. The shotgun he leveled at Cecil’s head was the real deal, however.
Cecil appeared not to care. “You’re interferin’ with a federal operation! We’ve got ID, everything’s cleared, now get the hell out of our way!”
“Secure your weapons,” Acheson said. He leaned his AA-12 against the wall and slowly unfastened the tactical carry right that held his MP-5 to his thigh. “Let’s take it easy!” he said to the cops.
“Do it do it do it!” one of the cops shouted.
“Monotonous motherfucker,” Cecil said as he shrugged off the SAW. He placed it on the ground and unbuckled the rest of his belts. Nacho did the same.
“TOC, this is Two-Six. Come in.” Acheson spoke into his headset as he removed his weapons.
“Two-Six, TOC. Over,” Licht replied.
“TOC, Two-Six. I only have time to say this once. Two-Five has been taken, along with several infants from the hospital maternity ward. Two-Eight is down and severely injured. Maybe six ghouls have been staked, but at least one master is in the area. Activate FREEFALL, and send a FLASH to Washington. At this time, we’re being taken into custody by local law enforcement. Good copy on that? Over.” FREEFALL was the code name for the event where the Containment Team was unreachable, the TOC would relocate to safer ground and await further direction. The relocation point was not known to the team prior to initiation, ensuring that if it were compromised, the TOC couldn’t be attacked.
There was a brief pause before Licht came back. “Two-Six, TOC copies all. We’re sending the FLASH now and forwarding tape transcripts as well. TOC is initiating FREEFALL, over.”
Acheson made a show of removing his knapsack. He dropped it on the floor, then dumped a couple of grenades out of his pocket. They rolled about on the linoleum tile.
“Jesus Christ!” one of the cops said.
“Relax, girls, the pins haven’t been pulled,” Nacho said. Cecil laughed. None of the cops thought it was very funny, and they kept their distance.
“Roger that, TOC. Break. Two-Seven, Three-Zero, kick it back, over.”
Julia’s voice came back. “Two-Six, Two-Seven, over.”
“Two-Seven, is Three-Zero ambulatory?” When they’d left the mat
ernity floor, Sharon was in an extreme fugue state. Whatever had happened to her left her semi-conscious, at best.
“Roger that, Two-Six. Back with us now, but Two-Eight is a mess.”
“Understood, Two-Seven. You and Three-Zero to get clear. Leave Two-Eight where he is. We’ll send medical attention for him ASAP, but I need you and Three-Zero to get out. Over.”
“Roger that. We’re breaking station. Out.”
“All elements, this is Two-Six. Containment Team Six is going off-net. Two-Six, out.” Acheson shut down his transceiver and removed his headset. He pulled the holster containing his SIG P220 and set it on the floor. Having at last shed all of his gear, he raised his hands over his head.
Once they were disarmed, the cops rushed them, slammed them to the floor and pinned them down. Cecil grunted when his face hit the tile, and Acheson caught a glimpse of blood on the big man’s lower lip as the older cop with the shotgun practically kneeled on Cecil’s head. The cop grinned savagely.
“Cuff ‘em,” the older cop said. “And get leg irons on these bastards. They don’t look like Homeland, they look like a bunch of low-rent terrorists.”
11
A few minutes before midnight, the newlings that slinked about the hillside mansion became suddenly aggressive. It was an unnerving display, and whenever they swept their lifeless yet rage-filled eyes over him, Tremaine felt a surge of fear. Usually, Tremaine and the other servants had the protection of the masters, and the newlings were ignored. But now, just scant minutes before midnight, the boundaries of protection seemed strained, ready to snap. The other human servants went about their business as quickly as possible, avoiding the newlings wherever they could, asking for assistance from higher members where needed. Even when confronted by master-class vampires, the newlings were slow to retreat, reluctant to allow the humans to escape their hateful gaze.
It’s all because of that damned mirror, Tremaine thought.
Hours earlier, after night had fallen and the vampires roused themselves from their dead sleep, the black mirror in the mansion’s great room emitted a lasting basso thrum. Tremaine had been the first to notice it, and his search to find the sound’s source led him to the mirror. The other human servants soon followed, drawn to it like moths to flame. But the black glass reflected nothing. Tremaine had no desire to come in contact with it. Just unpacking it had made him feel ill. But with this new turn, he liked it even less.
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