She paused, hand on the doorknob, tilting her head to listen. So, that was the door to the basement, where the vampires spent their days in darkness and safety. Leo might be stretching out for a nap, thinking he was safe.
Or he might have been waiting for us, armed with machine guns.
"Alette, this isn't—"
She opened the door.
Common sense didn't play any part in her current motivation. Revenge probably had a big part in it, along with a liberal dose of blind rage. She didn't wait to see if I'd follow or not.
I followed.
The glow of soft lighting cast an aura up the carpeted stairs. Soundlessly, Alette stepped down.
The basement room was as Victorian in decoration as the rest of the house. Brocade wallpaper, plush carpet, antique lamps. It was a bedroom. No coffins, but a king-sized four-poster bed sat in the back, along with dressers and wardrobes, and a vanity table without the mirror.
Leo sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over the body of a young woman. Her brown hair lay loose over her shoulders, and her hands were folded over her stomach. She wore a college logo sweatshirt and faded jeans.
"It's Emma," I whispered.
"He used her as a hostage. That was how he overcame me. He promised to keep her safe," she said, sharp as steel, biting off the words.
Emma seemed asleep. I hoped she was just asleep.
Leo looked up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand—an ominous gesture, though I didn't see what he wiped away. A snarl curled his lips. He stood, clenching his hands, and took a step toward us. He faced Alette across the room.
"You're supposed to be dead," Leo said, his voice low, tight with emotion.
"I've been dead for quite some time, my dear."
I left the stairs and moved from behind her, my back hunched like hackles rising, glaring warily.
His gaze met mine and narrowed. "Flemming set you loose, did he? He's too soft for the game he's playing."
I wondered, if I got a chance to wring Leo's neck, would he tell me what that game was? I could wring it with little crosses on chains.
"You could do what you liked with me if you kept Emma safe," Alette said. "What have you done to her?"
Leo laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He rounded his shoulders like a prizefighter entering the ring. Alette seemed unaffected, standing poised and still as always.
"You sold me out, destroyed my home, my children. Why?"
Leo laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "Why? That's simple. You are the worst waste of resources I have ever encountered. You command an empire, Alette. And what do you use it for? Nesting. You are an immortal goddess, and you can't seem to do anything but play the part of a stupid woman."
Wow. Not like he was from the nineteenth century or anything.
Alette didn't even flinch. In fact, a new resolve seemed to settle on her, like something inside her had hardened. "Is that so? If you felt that way, why stay with me for two centuries? That's a long time to have to cope with stupidity. I should know."
Leo's jaw dropped, like he was actually offended. I put my hand in my pocket, curling my fingers around the crosses there.
"He's only just now found allies with firepower," I said. "Tell us what Flemming gets by sending his men to work for you. You couldn't have taken over the place without their help."
He scowled. "I don't talk to animals."
"Oh, give me a break!"
"Answer the question, Leo," Alette said, cold and implacable. The "stupid woman" had commanded men for centuries with that voice. Even now, Leo couldn't break the habit.
"He gets a recruiting agent. Someone to help build his little army of the night. The Pentagon has already agreed to back his research when the NIH drops him. That's not what he wants, but he'll take what he can get. They've already given him a Special Forces unit to help run the operation."
Alette gave a sigh that managed to sound feminine and indignant at the same time. "You've sold one master and bought yourself another, do you realize that?"
"Oh, no," Leo said. "You're wrong about that. Flemming only thinks he's in charge. This goes far beyond him."
Flemming was too soft, Leo had said. The scientist looked the part of an academic, but played at military intelligence and black ops. Which was the real Flemming? And if Flemming was out of his league, as Leo suggested, then whose league were we playing in?
"How far?" I said, my voice falling to almost a whisper. "Who's calling the shots if not Flemming? Surely not you. You're a natural-born lackey."
Leo flashed his wicked, pretentious smile. "You'll never know, because you aren't leaving here alive."
He flew at us. In retrospect, he probably only launched himself, springing at us with the energy of frustration and determination. But he did it so fast, he might as well have flown.
Alette must have been expecting it, or she must have seen it, somehow able to slow the time frame down in a way that I wasn't. She was also moving at his speed. She dodged, stepping aside with efficient grace. The move might have been choreographed. They were like two fighters in a Hong Kong action flick, and I was the hapless bystander who was only trying to cross the street.
The move also left the path clear between Leo and me. I couldn't get out of his way fast enough. I could feel my feet backing up, as if I were looking at myself from outside. But my steps were slow, shaking. A whimper started in the back of my throat. Submissive, be submissive, lower than him—
He wouldn't listen to that.
I held the fist full of crosses in front of me and braced.
He didn't reach me, because Alette put her hand around his neck. She shouldn't have been able to stop him. He should have just tossed her aside and kept going. But who was I to decide what a multicentury-old vampire could and couldn't do? She didn't seem to strain, even, and Leo came up short, like he'd run into a clothesline. Her hand squeezed around his throat; her tendons flexing was the only sign of effort.
"I gave you everything," she said. "I'll take it all away."
"No." He gripped her wrist, scratching at it, trying to push her away. He was taller than she was, larger, rougher, yet she held him like he was made of cotton.
She couldn't kill him by suffocating him—vampires didn't breathe. She'd have to rip his whole head off. But she only stared at him, caught his gaze in hers, seeming to give him a chance to apologize, to beg forgiveness. To beg for his life. He began to thrash like an animal in a trap.
"No." He gasped, choking, his voice failing. "You're not my mistress, not anymore, you're not—"
From a reservoir of anger, he lashed out. Arms together, both hands making a fist, he swung around and hit her arm at the elbow. The joint bent, breaking her hold on him for a moment—long enough. He ripped away from her and punched her hard, once in the gut, once in the face. Something cracked, like bone breaking. Alette's expression didn't have time to register surprise.
She fell backward and hit the ground. Didn't move, and my belly turned cold. Leo turned on me, striking with an intent to do damage.
I still held the crosses as a shield, but Leo toppled into me anyway. He planted his hands on my shoulders and shoved, running me to the ground, pinning me to the floor. I clawed at him, the chains still laced around my fingers. The crosses pressed against his face.
He grimaced, his mouth opened wide as he hissed and shook himself to get free of them. The crosses left welts on his cheeks and neck, like allergy-driven hives, like silver did to me. Still, he didn't let up his pressure on me. I couldn't get away.
I didn't know if Alette was in any shape to help me. I was on my own.
Change, you can fight him—Pain burned through me, Wolf starting to claw her way out. The full moon still shone. I still had power. My hands were thickening. Wildly, I thrashed, arching my back, because I didn't want to do this, I didn't want to be trapped, I hated that he was making me Change. Human or Wolf, I wasn't strong enough to fight him.
He laughed, and in another quicksilve
r move, he grabbed my hand, the one holding the crosses, and jammed it to the floor. He managed to shift until both my hands were pinned, and his knee dug into my gut. He leaned in close, his fangs brushing my neck. Every breath I took was a growl, and he didn't care.
"I'll have you for dessert, my kitten," he said. He was in the perfect position to rip out my throat, and I couldn't do anything about it. I tried to work up enough spit to shoot at his face, since it seemed that was all I had left. My mouth had gone strangely dry, however.
"Leo." Someone new had arrived. I knew that voice.
Leo looked up, hissing in surprise. Then, something whistled. I felt the air whine above me. In the same moment, he fell back, as if jerked on a chain.
Freed, I rolled out of the way, away from Leo, and scrambled back on all fours.
Paul Flemming stood at the base of the stairs holding some kind of spear gun. He lowered it from the ready position and watched his target.
Leo crouched on his knees, staring at his own chest with blank astonishment. A foot-long wooden dowel, like an arrow, protruded from his heart. No blood poured from the wound, even though the spear must have gone all the way through his chest. It looked ludicrous somehow, like it was a stage prop glued to the front of his shirt. The fabric puckered in around it.
So, Flemming was good with a stake. It seemed the spot at the top of the food chain was still up for debate.
I gasped for breath, trying to pull myself back into myself, to stay human. Alette had recovered. She sat up, legs folded neatly under her, and watched Leo die. She frowned, her gaze showing sadness.
Leo gave a short laugh, or the sound might have been the start of a sob. He reached for her, then slumped onto his side, his eyes open and staring. The body turned waxen, then ashen, then began to collapse in on itself, turning to dust, the decay of the grave taking place in seconds instead of years. It took his clothes, the stake, everything with him. Everything touching him turned to dust, including a blackened oval shape on the carpet. He was gone.
I expected Alette to regain her feet gracefully, to resume her regal bearing and once again take charge. Instead, she remained on the floor, her eyes squeezed shut, gripping the fabric of her jacket over her heart, as if it hurt.
"How could I be so blind?" Her voice was thin, pained. "How could I be so… so stupid?"
Those words had been spoken by every woman who'd ever been screwed over by a boyfriend. Immortality didn't change some things, apparently.
She ran her fingers through her hair, and finally opened her eyes to stare at the pile of ash that had once been Leo. Her face puckered, like she might start crying. But she shook her head, and shook the mood away. "He fought at Waterloo, you know. When I met him, he was a shell, broken by what he'd seen there. But he could still laugh. I liked that. I gave him a reason to continue. I gave him a place in my household. Then—I gave him everything. I trusted him. I thought—"
She loved him. I wouldn't have thought it possible. Vampires seemed beyond love. What was more, she thought he'd loved her back.
A wave of fear crossed her expression. In a rush, she stood and went to the bed, sitting beside Emma. She touched the young woman's face, felt her neck, then held her hands. She stared at Emma's face for a long time, and my stomach turned into a lead weight.
"Alette, what—how is she?" I didn't want to know. If I didn't know, I didn't have to react.
"She's not dead," Alette said softly. She didn't sound pleased, though. She sounded resigned. "But—she's no longer precisely alive, either. On the third night she'll wake again as one of us."
Leo had turned her, made her a vampire. Had he seen the opportunity to possess something of Alette's and been unable to resist? I remembered his laugh when Alette asked him what he'd done to Emma. Maybe he'd done it as a joke.
"What are you going to do? What—what is she going to do?"
Alette smiled sadly. "I don't know." She leaned forward and kissed Emma's forehead. Emma didn't stir. Her face was white, bloodless.
Alette took a blanket from a trunk at the foot of the bed and spread it over Emma.
Flemming held the spear gun down by his side and slumped against the wall.
I swallowed, to make sure my throat was still human, that I still had a voice. "Why? Why are you here? Why did you do… that?"
"He was dangerous."
"Dangerous to whom? To you? To your research? Aren't you worried about losing your recruiting agent?"
"But would he recruit for me, or handpick the people he wanted on the inside of an elite military unit? I know he was spying on me." He glanced at Alette, then lowered his gaze. "I was being used. By everyone. Duke, Leo, the DOD—"
"Wait, what? The DOD?"
"Department of Defense. One door closes, another opens. Isn't that what people say? The military sees possibilities in my research. The NIH isn't going to continue my funding, not after this."
"Damn straight. Why did you ever go along with Duke? He's a nutcase."
"We both wanted government recognition. He wanted his control; I wanted funding that didn't come from the military. He was able to get my research a public hearing; I was able to give him his proof that the monsters are real. I thought—I believed that in the end, my science would trump his fanaticism. That Congress would take my proof and do some good with it."
Good defined as funding for his own project. That was the trouble with politics, everyone only believed their own personal idea of what was good and right. And science could become its own brand of fanaticism.
Flemming continued. "Duke misjudged public opinion. He really believes you aren't human, and that Congress could enact laws to set bounties on you, to let people hunt you to extinction, like they did with wild wolves a hundred years ago. He wanted to be a national Van Helsing, and he wanted my help to prove that he was right."
"I think you both came off looking like assholes," I said. "I think Jack London won. So the NIH cuts your funding, and the military welcomes you with open arms? You looked for military funding—Fritz gave you ideas. You don't care where the money comes from."
His voice turned harsh. "I got very good at telling the people with money exactly what they wanted to hear. Most researchers do. I told the DOD what I thought I could do, and by the time I decided that wasn't what I wanted… But I'm done, now. After this, I'll tell them all that I'm finished."
I wanted to wring his neck. "You can really just walk away? I don't believe you."
The expression he shot back at me was conflicted, full of hurt but also tinted with anger. His jaw clenched. The grip on his spear gun tightened, and with a pang I realized he was standing between me and the stairway.
"Kitty, that's enough." Alette rose from the bed and brushed off her skirt as if she'd just come in from a stroll. "Dr. Flemming, I suppose I ought to thank you for your timely arrival. Then again, I suppose it was the least you could do for helping to bring about this situation in the first place."
"I didn't do it for you," he said. "I'm tired of being a pawn."
"You very nearly decided that too late." She set her gaze on him, and for all that she was a slighter, slimmer figure than Leo, she radiated a menace that he hadn't been able to manage. Leo had been all about bravado.
Flemming reached to a long pouch strapped over his shoulder, which held more spears.
I thought I was going to have to break up a fight between them, but we were all startled by noises pounding on the floor above us, echoing over our heads. A door slammed open, several sets of footsteps ran, probably across the foyer.
Upstairs, in the kitchen, a male voice said, "Clear!" Another said, "The basement?"
I could fight. To the last breath, I could do it. Alette joined me in the center of the room; we stood side by side. Flemming remained at the base of the stairs, looking up.
The stairs creaked as someone made his way down, slowly and carefully. Another one followed. Two people. I took a deep breath, my nose flaring to catch a scent. Male sweat, leather ja
cket, an air of taut nerves and tired bodies, gun oil—
Connac emerged from the shadow, gun raised and ready. Ben followed a step behind him, a stake in one hand and mallet in the other. Flemming pointed his spear gun at Cormac, and for a moment the two looked like they were going to face off.
My knees turned to pudding. I thought I was going to faint. "Hi, guys," I said weakly.
Cormac wasn't going to lower his weapon until Flemming did. The hit man stared at him, expressionless, steady as a rock. Flemming's hands shook.
"Doctor, it's okay. They're okay," I said. Finally, he lowered his arms. Cormac waited an extra beat before doing the same, holstering the gun.
More pounding footsteps sounded on the stairs, and a pair of police officers emerged into the room, which was becoming crowded.
Ben looked around the room, took note of me, Alette, and the pile of ash on the floor. "You mean we went through the trouble of finding this place, calling the cops, racing here in the nick of time, and after all that we missed the fun?"
"There's still one left," Cormac said, eyeing Alette.
I moved to stand in front of her. "This is Alette. She's a good guy."
One of the cops drew his gun on Cormac. Too many people in this room had guns, and it was starting to piss me off.
"Nathan, it's all right, we don't want to start anything," Alette said. The cop lowered his gun.
Cormac rolled his eyes, a you've got to be kidding look.
"It's all right, Kitty," Alette said, moving to the side, like she was amused that I'd tried to protect her.
"Alette? This is Ben, my lawyer, and Cormac, my—"
My what? "And this is Cormac." She nodded politely. Ben and Cormac still looked ready for action: guns, stakes, crosses hanging from their belts.
"Uh, you guys do this a lot, don't you? Because you look like you do this a lot."
Ben and Cormac exchanged a look, and a curt, comradely nod. Ben sighed and finally lowered the mallet.
I had a vampire-hunting lawyer. Great.
Flemming said, "I'll leave. I don't want to cause any more trouble."
Alette crossed her arms. "No more recruiting, no more kidnapping. Yes?"
Kitty Goes to Washington kn-2 Page 24