Nightshine: A Novel of the Kyndred

by Lynn Viehl

  “I was, before you brought me here.” Samuel lowered his arms. “Now your blood runs through my veins. You remember. I’m told you fed it to me yourself.”

  Segundo came up beside the vampire. “It is a trick, master. He has not turned. Kill him now.”

  Energúmeno swept one of his daggers to one side, slitting the steward’s throat with one motion before he kicked his body from the pier. Segundo fell into the water with a splash, his body quickly sinking out of sight.

  The vampire advanced several paces, halting just out of Samuel’s reach. “Cortés poured boiling gold down my throat, and that did not kill me. Nor could five hundred years entombed in the earth. Put down your weapons now, warrior, and I will see to it that you die quickly and cleanly.”

  “A warrior doesn’t kneel before death.” Samuel tossed one of the macuahuitl at the vampire’s feet. “He fights to it.”

  Energúmeno tossed away one of his daggers before he bent and seized the hilt of the Aztec sword. “So you will.” He flipped the heavy blade around his hand so fast it whistled through the air.

  Charlotte surged forward, stopped only by Drew’s arm.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” He pointed to the men wading through the shallows up to the beach. “How are they going to attack?”

  “I don’t care.” She wanted only to get to Samuel.

  Colotl came up on her other side and caught her hand, holding his other out to Drew. As soon as he took it the islander’s thoughts streamed into her mind. Charlotte, we must know what they mean to do. Help us.

  “God damn it, Maggie.” Drew dragged her around. “Tell me what they’re thinking before they get to us.”

  She threw down her barriers, gathering up all the thought streams careening around her. “They know where we’re hiding. They’re going to drop. Throw grenades. Gas us. Knock us out. Carry us back to the boats.”

  Colotl closed his eyes briefly. I have told the others. We must scatter before they use the gas. We will circle around behind them.

  The islanders began moving out through the brush as Charlotte looked down at the pier. Samuel and the vampire were circling each other and trading blows, throwing titanic shadows onto the sand. Wood splintered and flew as their swords met, while the planks of the pier groaned and cracked. Blackened flesh hung like rags from the vampire’s body, while blood ran freely from terrible gashes on her lover’s arms and abdomen.

  She grabbed Drew’s sleeve, tearing the shoulder seam. “He can’t keep this up. He’ll bleed out before he can heal.” Her eyes shifted as the women came out from under the pier. “Jesus Christ, what are they still doing down there?”

  “They’re part of the plan.” As the women tossed burning torches onto the pier behind the vampire, Drew grabbed her. “That’s my cue. Stay put.”

  Charlie ran after him toward the pier, her eyes fixed on Samuel, who was staggering backward, his free hand covering his left eye. Energúmeno advanced slowly, the fire from the burning pier illuminating the golden filigree around the gaping black wounds in his decayed flesh.

  Dolphins shot out of the water, distracting Charlotte as they slammed their bodies into some of the men wading toward the shore. Gulls screeched as they hurtled down from the sky, tearing at the men’s faces. As the islanders emerged from the brush they formed a line and marched toward the beach, each using his or her abilities to attack in unison. One seemed to pull a stream of fire from the burning villa and directed it like a blowtorch at a pair of men stumbling onto the sand, while another flicked his hand at a dune, causing it to rise up like a wave and then collapse on the burning bodies, burying them.

  Bamboo shot across the beach, undulating and curling as it encircled ankles and wrists before tightening into green manacles. As the vampire’s men struggled to free themselves, some began shooting at the islanders. The fire thrower set some of the bamboo alight to form a high barrier of flames between the men and the islanders, while the sand mover created an enormous crater behind the twisting bodies. An invisible force pushed the trapped men close together while the bamboo formed a cagelike sphere. Charlotte glanced over to see Colotl’s tattoo glowing as he focused on the writhing limbs of the vampire’s helpless men. A moment later the bamboo sphere dropped into the massive hole in the beach, and another dune stretched out, filling in the hole until the men vanished from sight.

  Charlie looked back at Samuel, who had dropped to his knees, and shrieked his name, only to find herself on her hands and knees in the sand. After shoving her down, Drew sprinted past her toward the water.

  “No.” She pushed herself up, struggling to her feet. “Sam, no.”

  “Now your heart is mine.” Energúmeno held his sword to one side, raising the golden claw of his hand above Samuel’s chest.

  Charlotte screamed.

  A misty figure appeared out of thin air between the vampire and Samuel, solidifying into Ihiyo’s body.

  “For Mocaya,” Charlotte heard him say just before he jumped at Energúmeno.

  White ice instantly encased the vampire’s body, freezing him in place. A moment later something came whirling through the air from the water like a giant boomerang. Just before it struck the vampire’s back, she saw it was another macuahuitl, this one covered with blades on all sides.

  Samuel shot to his feet, his massive arm sweeping his sword up in a slashing blow.

  Stone screeched against frozen metal, sending an explosion of ice crystals into the night air. Energúmeno stared at Samuel in disbelief, ice cracking and shedding in chunks from his arm as he brought his golden hand up to his face. Ice-coated gold began to fall away from the vampire’s body, thudding onto the damp sand. Energúmeno looked down as his right arm dropped, and then his legs collapsed outward. He opened his mouth as if to speak, the horizontal gash extending across his face and disappearing into his frozen hair. His golden eye remained open as most of his head slid onto his shoulder and rolled away.

  Charlotte felt one last wave of thoughts from the immortal, and caught her breath.

  Samuel stood over him to make one final blow, the stone blades of his macuahuitl cutting cleanly through the vampire’s neck. When the decapitated torso toppled over, he dropped the sword, turning away and starting toward Charlie.

  She could hear the shouts of Energúmeno’s men as the islanders surrounded them and attacked. Their frantic thoughts and emotions hammered against her mind, but suddenly Samuel was there, too, pushing them away and protecting her.

  He stopped a short distance from her, his bloodied hands at his sides as he looked over at the islanders, who were finishing off the last of Energúmeno’s men. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

  “None of us were.” She closed the gap between them and touched his battered face, then surveyed the rest of him. Despite the blood loss most of his wounds had already begun to close, but she could feel the rawness of his emotions. “You okay?”

  “I am now.” He bent his head, resting his brow against hers.

  “He was like you were before we came here,” she said softly. “Pain filled every moment of his life, and he suffered it for so long he forgot what it is to be whole and well and sane. His last thought was how wonderful it felt to finally be free of it.”

  Drew came to them, his trousers soaked to the thighs. “You two okay?” As Samuel nodded, he glanced at the vampire’s remains. “Can we get off this fucking island now?”

  “Yes.” Samuel looked out at the bodies on the sand, and the tired faces of the islanders walking toward them. “Let’s do that.”

  “We didn’t find a match for the woman’s fingerprints, but the DNA from her saliva tested positive for three alteration markers.” Marlow handed Genaro the lab reports.

  Genaro flipped through the pages. “There should be six markers.” He glanced at the screen of his laptop, which displayed a video call screen. “You’ll have to retest the sample, Eliot.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, sir,” his geneticist said. “She would show th
ree only if one of her parents were human. My guess is she’s second-generation Kyndred.”

  “Test the sample and make sure.” Genaro rubbed his tired eyes as he ended the video call and handed the reports back to Marlow. “Has Delaporte faxed the results of the property searches?”

  “No, sir, but our background check on Foster Stanton turned up something interesting. He’s been receiving a large annual grant from the U.K. to study bird migration patterns.” Marlow went to the wall map. “The site where he’s supposedly conducting these studies is an island here, about two hundred miles out.” He tapped the spot, and then moved his fingertip a short distance to a tiny cluster of islands nearby. “PROFEPA backed legislation to establish a protected area. No boat is allowed within six nautical miles of these islands.”

  It appeared to be the perfect place to conceal the Kyndred, but he wasn’t convinced. “Get me satellite images.”

  Marlow left, and returned a short time later with a sheaf of printouts. “These were the last images recorded by our satellite before it moved out of range about twelve hours ago. There’s a large structure that looks like some sort of religious temple on Stanton’s island.” He put one image on the desk, and then placed another atop it. “The satellite also picked up a fifth island that doesn’t appear on any of the maps, but appears to be inhabited.” He pointed to the seven large structures forming a ring around the island.

  “That’s it.” Genaro closed the laptop and got to his feet. “Call our pilots at the airport and have them prepare the helicopters. We’ll be leaving as soon as they’re ready to take off.”

  “How many choppers will we need, sir?”

  He wasn’t letting the drug lord escape him again. “All of them.”

  On the way to the airport, Genaro placed a video call to Delaporte to tell him they were relocating. “I don’t know how many we’ll be able to recover from these islands, but have the lab in Los Angeles make arrangements for a dozen new acquisitions. Also, have them prepare interrogation rooms for Taske, Riordan, Flores, and Marena.”

  “Sir, I checked satellite images of those islands last night,” his security chief said. “There’s nothing on them but some palm trees and birds. You’re wasting your time going out there.”

  Delaporte didn’t know that Marlow had pulled the satellite images, or that he had just betrayed himself.

  Fury erupted inside Genaro, but he kept his expression bland. “Well, then you’ve saved me a long and uncomfortable flight. Good work, Don.”

  His security chief looked satisfied. “I’ll continue with the property searches, and get back to you as soon as we find anything of interest, sir.”

  “You do that.” Genaro ended the call and immediately dialed Eliot Kirchner’s private line. “Don Delaporte just tried to divert me away from the Kyndred. You were right. He’s a traitor.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Jonah.” The geneticist sighed. “I’ll take care of him personally.”

  “Keep him sedated in isolation until I return,” Genaro told him. “No one is to have access to him but you and me.”

  At the airport Marlow directed all of his men into the waiting transport carriers before joining Genaro. “We’ll have to move quickly. I just got word that the Mexican army is on its way down here to take back the city.”

  More of Delaporte’s handiwork, Genaro guessed. “Once we have the acquisitions secured, we’ll fly directly back to the States.”

  In the air, ten minutes away from the islands, Genaro saw black smears, too dark to be clouds, marring the bright blue sky. He put on the headset that allowed him to talk to the helicopter pilot. “Is smoke coming from a ship?”

  “No, sir.” The pilot pointed toward the horizon. “It’s coming from that landmass over there.”

  Beside him, Marlow checked the map, and then swore. “It’s the unmapped island,” he shouted over the noise of the rotors.

  “Don’t try to land,” Genaro instructed the pilot. “Make a low pass so I can see what’s down there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The helicopter descended to fly through the drifting smoke, dissipating enough of it to provide a partial view. The remains of the structures still smoldered, but from the amount of scorched rubble it was clear they had been burned to the ground. Unmoving bodies littered the beach in front of one of the houses, and smaller fires had broken out over the remainder of the island.

  As the pilot completed his final pass, something exploded behind them, sending a shock wave through the helicopter. Genaro looked back to watch a small mushroom cloud of fire and smoke billow into the air.

  “The survivors may have retreated to Stanton’s island,” Marlow shouted.

  Genaro nodded, and told the pilot to change course, but from what he had seen he knew they were too late. Whatever battle had been fought was finished, and the victors were long gone.

  Several hours later Marlow emerged from the Aztec temple on Stanton’s island and confirmed Genaro’s suspicions. “They left everything behind: money, drugs, artifacts, and enough weapons to outfit an army division. The Mexican government is sending a couple of navy ships out to investigate the source of the fires.”

  The sounds of three more distant explosions made Genaro glance out at the sea. “Recall your men. We’re leaving.”

  Marlow nodded and gave the order over his handheld.

  On the flight back to California, Genaro brooded over the events of the day. The complete failure of the mission had created a substantial setback, but had also resulted in exposing the most dangerous spy in his organization.

  Delaporte’s military training wouldn’t protect him from the barrage of drugs and torture Genaro planned to use on him. Given his level of access to GenHance’s operations, the lengthy time he had spent working for the company, and the number of crimes he had personally committed, his security chief was not working for the government or the authorities. Instead Genaro felt sure that Delaporte reported directly to a competitor interested in stealing the transerum; as soon as Kirchner came up with a successful formula, Delaporte probably would have taken it and the geneticist. But if that were the case, why was he trying to prevent the Kyndred from being captured?

  After landing at one of the secluded airstrips GenHance maintained, Marlow escorted Genaro from the helicopter to the limousine waiting at the edge of the runway.

  “I’ve got to debrief the men, sir,” he said. “I’ll fly back to Atlanta tonight.”

  “Report to my office first thing in the morning,” Genaro told him before he climbed into the back of the limo. He would need someone to replace Delaporte, and Marlow had proven to be reliable, if somewhat unimaginative.

  Marlow gave him a casual salute and trotted off toward the hangars.

  Genaro waited for the car to move, and when it didn’t, he pressed the intercom button. “Take me to LAX.” When no reply came over the speaker, he reached for the button to lower the divider. “I said—” He fell silent as he saw the empty driver’s seat.

  Delaporte’s familiar voice came over the walkie-talkie strapped to the small bundle of gray bricks and wires sitting on the center console. “Good-bye, Jonah.”

  Genaro turned and grabbed the door handle.

  As the limo exploded, flying shrapnel forced Marlow to drop to the ground and cover his head. He waited until the rain of twisted metal and glass ended before he raised his head to look back and get to his feet. Men started running out of the hangars, shouting as they hurried toward the burning vehicle.

  He took out the satellite phone he had used only once in Mexico, and pressed redial.

  The voice that answered was not the one he expected, and its dark beauty sent a trickle of cold sweat down Marlow’s spine. “Is it done?”

  “Yes, my lord.” He looked once more at the burning wreckage that had become Jonah Genaro’s funeral pyre before he gave Richard Tremayne a final assurance. “He’s dead.”

  Chapter 23

  Agraciana had suggested going to her vi
llage after discovering the boat engines contained only enough fuel to take them back to the mainland. “We can take shelter in my father’s house while I arrange transportation for you back to America.”

  They had arrived just before dawn, and at first the dock appeared empty. It was only when Agraciana stepped off that an elderly man emerged from the shadows and called her name.

  “Papi?” She ran to him, halting only when she saw the silver-haired woman standing beside him. All the color drained out of her face. “Mama?”

  The woman nodded, her eyes bright with tears as she held out her arms.

  Charlie tensed as more people walked down the dock, until she saw the flashlights and blankets they were carrying.

  “I think we’re among friends,” Sam told her.

  The islanders remained on the boats, almost huddling together as they watched the villagers. Their odd behavior reminded Charlie of the near-complete isolation they had lived in for most of their lives.

  “Tlemi.” She smiled at the redhead. “It’s okay. Come with me and Sam and meet Agraciana’s friends.”

  Colotl took her hand, helping her off the boat and walking beside her down the dock. He appeared braced for another battle, but did nothing as the excited villagers surrounded them. Everyone talked all at once as kind hands draped blankets over the islanders’ shoulders. Another woman brought a tray of brightly colored ceramic mugs filled with a steaming brew that smelled spicy-sweet, and began handing them out as the other islanders cautiously approached.

  Colotl took a sip from his cup, met Charlie’s gaze, and grinned like a boy.

  Drew left Agraciana with her parents and came over to Charlie and Samuel. “Gracie says they’ve got food and cots for everyone over at the church. The men of the village will keep watch so we can get some sleep.”

  Charlie frowned. “How did they know we’d come here?”

  “A man and a woman stopped by here an hour ago,” he said. “They knew everything that happened to us. They also brought Gracie’s mother home.”

  “Who were they?” Samuel asked.