Omega (The Penton Vampire Legacy)

by Susannah Sandlin

  Matthias came into view through the doorway, his face compressed in a frown and mouth open, probably to give Shelton a good tongue-lashing. He recovered quickly upon spotting Cage, however, and his face smoothed into a practiced smile. A politician’s face, whose pleasant expression never reached the shrewd brown eyes peering cautiously from beneath dark brows and salt-and-pepper hair.

  So this is the boogeyman. “Cage Reynolds.” He stuck a hand out for Matthias to shake, which he did after a second’s pause. “Edward Simmons sends his regards—and he sends me, his most trusted lieutenant, if I might say so myself, to be of service. He’s most sympathetic with your cause and wishes to support your efforts to eliminate the Penton rogues in any way he can.”

  Matthias stared at him a moment, and Cage remained still while under scrutiny. If Matthias was a master vampire—even if a weak one, as Will had said—he’d have an arsenal of means to detect fraud: scent, light mental invasions, the ability to gauge whether Cage’s heartbeat sped up with a lie.

  Finally, Matthias smiled and motioned Cage inside. “My apologies. These are dangerous times, and we must be cautious.”

  “I understand, of course.” Cage produced his papers and handed them to Matthias. “Your man Shelton here was very diligent in examining my credentials before bringing me to you, but I’d like you to see them as well.” The fool beside him practically preened.

  “Shelton’s a good man. Have a seat, please. Brandy? I hope you don’t mind, but I need to send Shelton on an errand.”

  “Not at all, and brandy sounds excellent.” Cage poured himself a drink and took a seat facing the desk. He crossed his legs in a relaxed posture, but his gaze roved around the room. The office had some damage in one corner, and a buckle in the wooden flooring had exposed the hatch to the subbasement suites. That definitely would have told Matthias how adept the Pentonites were at creating underground living spaces. Correction: how adept his son Will was at engineering them.

  Matthias finished his discussion with Shelton and came to sit behind the broad desk—Aidan’s desk. This was where Cage had first met with the Penton scathe leader, in this very seating arrangement. The two men—Aidan and Matthias—couldn’t be more different.

  Cage couldn’t help but look for signs of Will in his father. Their eyes were the same color of golden brown, but where Will’s held an almost sweetness when he wasn’t on his guard or being a sarcastic asshole, Matthias’s were hard as amber. Maybe the same jawline, but otherwise, Will must have resembled his mother.

  “Let’s see what we have here.” Matthias unfolded the letter from Edward and read it. “Very impressive credentials. A psychiatrist. Do you find that helpful as a member of Edward’s inner circle?”

  Cage pretended to think about the question. “Yes, and I think it can be helpful to you. I’ve had many years to study behavior during wartime, both vampire and human. Edward thought I might be able to advise you on different avenues the Penton scathe might have considered or taken. Maybe help anticipate their moves.”

  For the next hour, they talked about the scathe, and Cage was able to learn a lot about what Matthias knew and didn’t know. He could identify all the lieutenants by sight except for Cage himself and knew all the others’ names except for “the redhead,” Randa. Matthias wanted revenge on Glory almost as much as Aidan and Mirren, blaming her telekinesis for ruining his original takedown of Penton.

  There was one thing he hadn’t mentioned, however, and Cage decided to tackle it directly. “I’m sorry if this is a sensitive subject, Matthias, but I have to ask about your son. Where does he fit into your plans to destroy Penton? Are you hoping to save him? It’s Edward’s understanding that he’s been with Aidan Murphy for quite a number of years.”

  Matthias’s glare pierced him like an ice pick before the man reassumed his politician demeanor. “I have to admit I would like William back in my own scathe, but there must be repercussions for his betrayal. If he survives, he’ll be sent to work for Shelton in Virginia until he comes to his senses. He was always slow to learn—the boy didn’t even pass first grade, much to my shame. It takes harsh measures to teach him, and I can only blame myself that he didn’t learn his place the first time I sent him to Shelton.”

  Matthias gave a great put-upon sigh and leaned back in his chair. “If William doesn’t survive, well, of course I’ll be deeply saddened, but the needs of the Tribunal must come before my own. You may reassure Edward of that.”

  What an absolute slime bucket. Cage forced his fingers to relax. As Matthias had talked, he’d gripped the arms of his chair hard enough that the wood had cracked. It was a miracle Will had ended up even halfway normal.

  Plus, the comment about Will being a slow learner confused him. He was one of the smartest people Cage had met—quick to grasp problems, find solutions, and able to change directions on the fly.

  “I’m sorry if I’m being nosy, but it’s an occupational hazard. Why did William fail first grade? How is he a slow learner? It might be something we could exploit to find the rebels or force your son into helping us.”

  Matthias laughed, but it sounded more bitter than amused. “It wasn’t just first grade. He’s slow-witted, I’m afraid. The boy simply could not learn to read. And obviously doesn’t follow orders very well, either. It’s a bad combination of traits.”

  As they continued to talk, Cage tucked away the information about Will to think about later, because it definitely didn’t compute with what he’d seen.

  Matthias kept glancing at his watch. What was he up to? Was it the task he’d sent Shelton to do? Cage had strained to hear their conversation earlier, but hadn’t been able to detect anything beyond the word church.

  Might as well let him get to it and not arouse suspicion. “I’m sure you have things to attend to, but please know that I’m at your disposal.” Cage stood and reached across the desk to shake hands with Matthias. “Are there houses in town with safe daysleep spaces one might use?”

  Matthias looked at him over steepled fingers, and Cage got the feeling he was being judged yet again. Finally, Matthias nodded and rose from his chair. “No need for that. I discovered some very nice spaces in a subbasement underneath the clinic. You’re welcome to a room there as long as you want, and this end of the building still has electricity. One room appears to be locked—not sure what Murphy used it for—but the rest are open. In the meantime, I’ll be thinking about how best to put your skills to use.”

  “Is this where you’re taking your daysleep as well?” Might as well know how guarded he needed to be during his most vulnerable time of day.

  Matthias closed and locked the desk, tucking the small key in his pocket. “No, I found a house with electricity across the street from where Murphy used to live—his place was burned, of course, but I wanted to be there in case he tried to retrieve anything.”

  Will had burned not only his own house, but also those of Aidan, Mirren, Hannah, Randa, and Cage, and had set off explosives in their subbasement spaces. Matthias could dig through the soot and ash all he wanted but wouldn’t find anything.

  Cage followed him to the hatch in the corner. From the story Glory and Mirren had told about their escape from Penton, at least part of the sub-suite corridor had collapsed. The day before they’d gone into Omega, Mirren and his mate had spent a daysleep on the side of the tunnel nearest Aidan’s house, which meant this was the only way in and out of this end of the corridor.

  If Matthias ever suspected him, it would be easy to seal off the hatch, and Cage would truly be caged. Maybe he’d spend one daysleep here and find other accommodations tomorrow. He’d come up with some excuse. Mirren wasn’t the only one who didn’t like being limited to one means of escape.

  Once they’d climbed down the second drop ladder into the sub-suite corridor, he could see the damage at the end of the hallway, near the steel door that had led into the tunnel to Aidan’s backyard. There were probably still two suites on the far side of the collapse, then the concrete tu
nnel that opened into Aidan’s greenhouse.

  All but one of the six suite doors on this side stood open, and Matthias stopped at the one nearest the hatch. “This one’s in the best shape—the others have some loose plaster, although nothing seems to be structurally unsound, and only these first two still have electricity. You’re welcome to take your pick, however.”

  Cage walked into the suite. A king-size bed with carved oak posts filled one side of the room, and everything was coordinated in warm earth tones that helped counteract the natural chill from being so far underground. “Nice digs.” He set his backpack on the bed, noting the fireplace, the attached bath, and the comfortable furnishings in the sitting area and bedroom. “They’re all this elaborate?”

  Matthias laughed on his way out the door. “Yes, Murphy had quite the setup. Too bad he won’t see it again. Have a good daysleep, Mr. Reynolds. We will talk more tomorrow evening.”

  As soon as he heard Matthias climb the ladder and cross the basement level above him, Cage returned to the hallway, waiting for the sound of the clinic office hatch sliding into place. Then he went room to room, checking them out. Nothing had been left behind, and all the suites were identical.

  At the end of the hall, he tapped his knuckles against pieces of rubble, trying to gauge how thick the collapse was between his end of the hall and the other side. Impossible to tell. He didn’t want to start pulling out pieces at random and risk further collapse, but he studied the configuration of crumbled concrete, wooden supports, and dirt to determine which pieces, when removed, would cause those around them to fall. If he needed to get out fast, it might be the only way.

  Cage looked at his watch. Less than two hours left until dawn—he’d talked to Matthias longer than he’d realized, but he’d accomplished what he’d wanted from the night. So far, he’d been accepted. He’d learned a little, with hopes of learning more. Tomorrow night, he’d scope out the church before meeting Aidan in the automotive-plant parking lot—if he could safely get away without arousing suspicion.

  On the way back to his suite, he stopped outside the locked door. Something seemed wrong about it. He looked at the other doors and realized what it was. All the doors except this one had no visible locks on the outside—they all locked from within. This one had a key plate and outer dead bolt lock.

  Cage had heard the story about how Aidan had met his mate, Krys, how he’d kept her locked in a room beneath the clinic when the town had first come under siege. This must have been the room.

  But why would it be locked now?

  He held his ear to the door, but heard nothing. He knocked on it, then listened again. There! Were those movements inside?

  “Hello? Who’s in there?” He pressed his ear to the door.

  He sensed movement again, maybe a muffled trace of sound. Damn it, someone was in there. Question was, who? And was opening that door akin to opening Pandora’s box? No Penton scathe members or their fams were unaccounted for. They’d either died in the attack, opted to have their memories blotted, or were in Omega.

  What was it the modern sports announcers said? Go big or go home.

  Cage was going big.

  He returned to his suite and retrieved a small kit of tools—one never knew when a lock might need picking. Returning to the closed door, he knelt and began the meticulous work of tripping a dead bolt.

  It was a good lock, and he had to work a good half hour to coax the bolt into turning. Finally, it clicked, and he rose to his feet. Time to see what he’d decided to unleash. With only an hour left until dawn, it could prove disastrous.

  He grasped the doorknob, twisted it, and pushed the door ajar, standing to the side of the opening lest anyone have a gun trained on him. When no bullets whizzed past, he cautiously looked inside.

  A woman lay tied to the bed with what looked like silver-laced rope. She was gagged. He could tell she was vampire and had strawberry blonde hair, but he couldn’t see her face.

  He cleared his throat. “Hello?”

  The woman raised her head. Green eyes widened above the gag, and her nostrils flared as she began to struggle against her bonds.

  Bloody hell, but this was impossible. “Melissa?”

  Will had probably been more bored during the last sixty-plus years, but he couldn’t remember when. He and Randa had been sitting on the ground in the earthen exit room beneath the church hatch for—he glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time—six hours and twenty-three minutes. Two hours until daysleep and it couldn’t come soon enough.

  They’d played blackjack until she’d caught him cheating. The woman really couldn’t take a joke.

  They’d argued about the pros and cons of different handguns. Even Mirren hadn’t been able to convince her to abandon the military-issue pistol her father had brainwashed her into considering God’s gift to weaponry, so Will didn’t try too hard. He much preferred blades to bullets, anyway.

  They’d clashed over whether music from Will’s era, the late 1960s, was preferable to Randa’s country-and-western drivel from the last decade. Led Zeppelin could still rock the house, and Brad Paisley sounded like something that should be used to make a shirt, no matter what she said.

  He knew they’d hit rock bottom when he realized they’d been arguing about the Civil War for twenty minutes. Good Lord, this woman would argue with a potato.

  And look sexy as hell doing it. Not that he had any plans of going there. They obviously had absolutely nothing in common, since she’d just called him a damned Yankee.

  “OK, let’s agree to disagree about the cruel bastardry of Ulysses S. Grant. Want to play strip poker?”

  “Oh, that’s going to happen. Not.” Randa raised an arched eyebrow at him, and he stared at it. The eyebrow was dark—she must have dyed it too. How the hell did women do that without having big smudges on their foreheads?

  “You dyed your eyebrows.”

  She glared at him, lowering those dyed eyebrows into an upside-down chevron above her nose. Cute nose. “Gee, thanks for noticing, since I’m not self-conscious about this ridiculous hair or anything. Want to play more blackjack?”

  Will groaned and leaned against the hard-packed dirt wall. “I’m sick of cards. Would you rather play cards or computer games?”

  Randa looked around. “Your computer isn’t even in here.”

  “I wasn’t talking about doing it. I was starting a game of Would You Rather.”

  “Great. I used to play that in middle school.” Randa groaned and stretched her back, which showed off an interesting figure beneath those jeans and khaki shirts she liked to wear. Will could come up with some fascinating Would You Rather questions for her. This could be fun.

  “So, answer—cards or computer games?”

  “Um…computer games, especially if I’m playing against you. Harder for you to cheat.”

  Sore loser. “OK, your turn.”

  Randa thought a few seconds. “OK, would you rather be in a fight with Mirren or…Attila the Hun?”

  Will laughed. “How serious is Mirren about beating my ass?”

  “Oh, he’s dead serious. And he has his sword.”

  “Easy one, then. Attila in a heartbeat.”

  “Yeah, me too.” They smiled at each other. Then Will looked away. That had been too close to sharing a moment. “OK, my turn.”

  What did Will want to know about Randa? “What do you miss most from your human life—food or sunlight?”

  Oh man, I am such an asshole. The flicker of pain that crossed her face hit him like a slap. She hadn’t been turned that long, and she missed her family. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  She gave him a searching look, then shrugged. “Food. Real food. I don’t like the way we have to feed. I think it’s gross.”

  Will pondered this revelation. He found feeding very pleasant. With the right person, it could be downright…stimulating. “You haven’t found the right feeder. You feed from the forearm? Because that’s, like, the most impersonal, u
nfulfilling spot.”

  She propped her elbows on her knees and covered her face. “God, I can’t believe we’re even talking about this. It’s embarrassing.”

  Will dusted some dirt off his boot and pondered Randa’s dilemma. She hated being a vampire. Well, hell, didn’t they all? At least on some level, all the Penton vamps did. They hung on to their humanity with a fierce grip, determined not to become a political monster like Matthias or a predatory monster like Aidan’s brother, Owen, had been. Now, those were two men who loved being vampires. Owen was the son Matthias had wanted Will to be—ruthless, sadistic, no conscience.

  “None of us really asked for this life, you know?” He fiddled with his boot buckle, not wanting to meet her gaze. “Different eras, different circumstances, but we all had this existence forced on us. If we can’t adapt and find some kind of happiness within what we’ve been handed, we’re facing a long, long time to be miserable. And I don’t like being miserable.”

  It took her a while to answer. “How do you do that—find happiness, I mean? Are you happy? Does Olivia make you happy?”

  He met her gaze, startled. “Liv? Oh man. Olivia.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt her, but we aren’t going where she wants us to go. I was going in to talk to her last night when I found you and your…hair.”

  Randa laughed. “Well, she won’t be surprised if you’re ending things with her. In fact, she’s already got an eye on your roommate.”

  “Yeah, the ladies like the shrink, apparently, and he thinks…What is that?”

  Shuffling above them, then a heavy thump against the hatch.

  He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Shit, they’re moving the pew right above us. Lock the door back into Omega in case they get us. Shove the key in the dirt so they won’t find it on our bodies—it’ll buy the guys inside some time.”

  “Got it.”

  While Randa scrambled to shut the steel door and bury the key, Will checked the clip on his gun, made sure Randa had hers, and then turned the fluorescent lantern to its lowest setting. Vampires had enhanced vision but couldn’t see much better in pitch-black than humans. Turning down the lantern would give Randa and him enough light to see but would give them plenty of shadows to hide in.