by Kit Tunstall
Incapable of speaking, she gripped their hands tightly, bringing them to her chest and holding them there, hoping she could keep Armand and Foster in her heart for the rest of her life. That would have to be enough to sustain her.
* * * * *
A chill in the evening had Shaun huddling deeper in her jacket as Foster and Armand came to rest in a parking lot without any visible activity, within walking distance of her parents’ home restaurant on Soscol Avenue in Napa. It had taken about an hour to cover the distance from their home near Big Sur, and iciness seemed to have pervaded her bones.
Awkwardly, she stood in front of them once they had released her, wondering how she should handle the parting. “I ...” Should she thank them for the incredible orgasms and unbelievable experiences? Would it be better to leave it light, saying a casual farewell?
Before she could decide, Armand gathered her into his arms, pressing a passionate kiss to her mouth. He seemed to be trying to absorb her through the embrace, and she strained against him just as eagerly, returning his kisses with equal fervor.
When he wrenched away from her, sending her gently to Foster, she met his mouth with the same passionate intensity, trying to pretend she didn’t feel moisture on his cheeks, and tears weren’t streaming from her eyes either. His kiss gentled toward the end, and he held his lips to hers for a long second, unmoving, before breaking away.
With a cry of distress, Shaun wiped at her cheeks and turned away from them as they began walking in the opposite direction. Her feet led her unerringly around the corner, onto First Street. As she walked, heading for the intersection of First and Soscol, she focused on regaining control of her emotions, not wanting to upset her parents any more than they were already, and not able to cope with the pain of parting from Armand and Foster right then.
When she reached Soscol, Shaun covered the two blocks to O’Grady’s, bypassing the elegant brass door with the restaurant’s name engraved in Script font in favor of going down the alley to use the back entrance. Nothing stirred in the alleyway, although her heart cried out for the sound of two sets of footsteps to emerge from the darkness -- Armand and Foster coming back for her, even though it was impossible.
The back door leading to the kitchen was unlocked, and she slipped inside. Immediately, Shaun felt a little better as familiar scents washed over her. Roasting pork, fish, and chocolate mingled into a unique fragrance synonymous with her childhood and teen years. As she moved deeper into the kitchen, she saw the customary bustle as the chefs danced around each other, intent on their various tasks.
At the site of her sister chopping vegetables, Shaun’s eyes watered anew, having nothing to do with the onions yielding to Amelia’s sharp blade. Before she could approach her, the swinging door opened, and her mother came rushing through, a look of panic on her face, as was also normal. Giada never believed things were running smoothly in the kitchen unless she was there to personally supervise.
Giada froze as Shaun stepped into the light, pushing back her hood to reveal her face. A stream of Italian left her mother, and she shouted, “Sean, come to the kitchen,” as she ran forward, gathering Shaun into a tight embrace.
Shaun snuggled closer to her as her father rushed into the kitchen, letting Giada’s bulk engulf her while the scent of her perfume washed over her. The tears she had been trying to fight came in a rush, soaking her mother’s white apron.
“My darling, you’re alive.” With another tight squeeze, Giada allowed Sean the opportunity to hug her. Shaun did her best to rein in the tears as she accepted her father’s hug, but failed miserably.
Amelia was there next, hugging her as enthusiastically as Giada had, her eyes also filled with tears. Shaun let their questions and love wash over her simultaneously, enjoying being with them, letting their presence ease some of the ache in her heart.
Giada maneuvered Amelia aside, once again bringing Shaun close to her bosom, this time to steer her into the break room, followed by Sean and Amelia. Her father closed the door, and Shaun’s eyes widened when she saw the way he trembled. His normally ruddy complexion was white, and new silver strands had sprouted in his bright red hair. She didn’t protest when he came to the chair her mother pushed her into to kiss her cheeks and hug her again.
“We thought you were dead,” said Amelia.
“Never.” Giada shook her head so abruptly strands of her dark hair, ruthlessly scraped back into a tight bun, fell free to frame her face. “We never believed that.”
“I did,” Amelia said softly, clearly upset. “What happened to you, Shaun? The Agency didn’t tell us anything other than you were MIA.”
“I was taken by two vampires.” Self-consciously, Shaun fingered the fold of her turtleneck, hoping it hid the bites adorning her throat. “They didn’t hurt me,” she hurried to add upon seeing Giada’s face fold as she started sobbing.
“Necros not hurt you?” Sean frowned. “How can that be?”
She clenched her hands in her lap. “It’s complicated, and not something I want to explain right now. Suffice to say, the Agency hasn’t been completely honest with the public, either from lack of information or deliberate deception.”
Looking up, she saw her parents trade a troubled look. “What?”
“You are finished with that awful place aren’t you, darling?” Giada patted her shoulders. “Promise me you will resign. I couldn’t stand to lose you again.”
With a firm nod, she said, “I’m resigning tomorrow. I’ve learned some things ... troubling things ... about the Agency, vampires, and myself. I can’t continue --”
The door crashing against the wall interrupted Shaun, and her head jerked up in reaction. Relief swelled in her. Torres stood before her, looking completely healthy. Another realization followed -- he was in uniform, toting a machine gun, which he kept aimed at her. Three others followed him into the room, all in the standard uniform, bearing full gear.
Training had her looking around for the threat until she realized they perceived her to be it. “What’s going on, Torres?”
“You have to come with us, O’Grady.”
She shook her head, eyeing the guns not wavering from her. “Why? I just got back. I want to spend time with my family. Can’t we do this tomorrow?”
“Negative. My orders are to bring you in tonight for debriefing.”
Giada put herself between Shaun and Torres’s gun. “Leave my daughter alone. She has done nothing to have you breaking in here like the Gestapo.”
He remained unfazed. “Ma’am, it’s standard policy to assess an agent if they’ve been tainted by a necro. Your daughter could be one herself.”
Shaun’s gasp was lost under her mother’s retort. “I don’t care if she is. I’ve nearly lost her once. I won’t let you take her from me again.”
Sean moved to stand beside his wife, putting his arm around her shoulders. “You will leave now.”
A lump lodged in Shaun’s throat. With an air of precision, Torres removed the pistol from his holster, pointing the laser sight at her father’s chest. Disaster was seconds away.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I have to follow orders.”
“Get out --”
Decisively, she stood up, pretending her knees weren’t shaking. “It’s fine, Dad. Don’t worry.” She walked over to him to kiss his cheek. “This won’t take long at all.” Turning to her mother, she pressed a kiss to her cheek as well. “As soon as I’m debriefed, and they realize I’m not a vampire, I’ll be right back here, or I’ll find you at your house.”
With confidence she didn’t feel, Shaun walked over to Torres, straightened her shoulders, and smiled. “Shall we?”
He had replaced his pistol and now took silver handcuffs from his vest. Shaun didn’t know whether to be angry or terrified at their extreme measures as the man who had trained her, a man she considered a friend, secured her wrists in front of her before guiding her to the door. She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t bound them behind her back, which was
much more uncomfortable, but could summon very little in the way of gratitude for any facet of the outrageous treatment.
They herded her across the street, disdaining the crossing sign forbidding them to do so, stopping traffic with little regard. A sleek helicopter waited in the parking lot of a store closed for the night, with two agents keeping their laser sights trained on her the entire time. Was she that much of a security risk? What a way to treat a hostage who had been released. More and more, she found it easier to believe Armand’s ominous interpretations of the mistruths the NCA encouraged.
Upon reaching the helicopter, they wasted no time loading her in. Two of the agents lifted her inside, not allowing Shaun to assist in any way. Once in the cabin, the female agent secured her to the lone chair bolted to the floor. It was in the center of the cabin, making it easy for them to watch her every move. Not that she could do much of that with her hands bound and silver clamps locked around her waist, allowing barely enough room to breathe, let alone squirm.
The agents filed into the helicopter, taking seats on the benches secured to each side of the chopper. Only Torres approached her, his expression revealing a hint of his distress beneath the icy façade. “Are you injured, O’Grady?”
“No, Mateo.” The use of his first name was deliberate as she attempted to remind him she was more than a prisoner. He had been her mentor for two years, her partner on her first mission, and a good friend. Shaun sensed she was going to need allies, and he was the only one who might be receptive to viewing her as something other than a danger.
He nodded, his face not giving away anything. “I’m surprised you’re still alive. Two masters taking you, a new agent.” His dark eyes narrowed. “It seems impossible for you to have survived.”
Her stomach dropped at the suspicion in his gaze, and she gave up trying to remind him she was his friend. “They let you live. Why not me?”
With a low sound in his throat, he rose to his feet as the helicopter engines turned over, preparing to grab a seat on the bench. “I hope for your sake the NCA chooses to do the same.”
His words confirmed her fear. This wasn’t going to be a routine debriefing, or even a gauntlet of tests to prove she was still human. There was something else going on, and she was facing it alone. Her heart cried out for Foster and Armand as the chopper ascended to ferry them to the nearest NCA facility in San Francisco.
Chapter Nine
Shaun had expected immediate interrogation, not to be locked in a holding cell reinforced with silver and left there, ignored, for the next six hours. She paced the confines of the small room, staring out the Plexiglas walls constantly, craning her neck for signs of activity in the hallway. When footsteps finally sounded from down the hall hours later, her heart raced. The waiting had been worse than anything they might do, since it gave her ample time to imagine their plans for her.
To her mingled dismay and relief, the person nearing her cell wore the uniform of a cadet and carried a tray of food. Her stomach rumbled at the sight, even as her annoyance raised another notch. How long did they plan to keep her here, in the dark, metaphorically?
The agent didn’t speak as he flipped open a small door on one wall of the cell and slid her dinner through the opening, leaving it on the shelf built for that purpose. The portal closed with a click when he turned and walked away, looking over his shoulder just once. Seeing the fear in his eyes, Shaun had to resist the urge to scream, “Boo.” As she walked over to retrieve the tray, she wondered what the agents had heard about her. Why was the Agency treating her like this? They couldn’t really believe she was a necro, could they?
Curled on the thin bunk, Shaun examined the meager contents of the tray. The offerings of a grilled cheese sandwich, carrots, and applesauce tasted as bad as they looked, but she was too hungry to protest. Making short work of the meal, she placed the tray on the floor and stretched out on the bunk, curling into the fetal position. Hunger still consumed her, although her stomach felt full enough. It just didn’t seem to be what she needed.
Self-pity threatened to overwhelm her, and Shaun closed her eyes in an attempt to regain control. As she had told herself repeatedly over the past hours, once they realized she wasn’t a threat, the Agency would release her. By this time tomorrow, the whole thing would seem like a bad dream. She would be home with her family and could pretend this had never happened.
The soft squeak of rubber shoe soles on the tile hallway gained her attention, and she sat up, composing her expression into one she hoped was the picture of calm as her visitor came into sight. Torres stopped in front of her cell, tapping in the code to release the lock. The door slid open with a hydraulic hiss, and he gestured with his hand. “Up. The director is ready to debrief you.”
“About time,” she said under her breath as she got up. She walked out of the cell quickly. Although still in a hallway under heavy security, surrounded by empty Plexiglas cells, immediately Shaun felt freer once she passed the threshold. Each step taking them out of the containment area lightened the weight in her heart, and she dared to find hope the nightmare was ending.
They left the containment area and headed to a conference room. Shaun hadn’t been to the San Francisco facility before, but the floor plan was similar to the building in L.A. where she was stationed. Her surge of hope faded somewhat when Torres took her into a Level II interrogation room, equipped to restrain a necro. She had hoped for the casual Level I, which doubled as a staff meeting room at most Agency buildings.
To her relief, Torres indicated she should take a seat in one of the leather chairs around the table on one side of the room instead of strapping her into the metal chair on the other side. Once seated, Shaun looked around at those already assembled, not recognizing the pudgy man in a white coat, but identifying him as an NCA scientist. Chief Gordie sat there, his lips tight. He nodded briefly, but his expression gave no hint to what he was feeling.
Shaun’s eyes widened when she saw the regional director seated at the head of the table. Raven Bradshaw was in charge of every field office in Oregon and California. They hadn’t met, but her picture hung in the foyer of the Los Angeles office. For her to be involved with a routine debriefing proved it was anything but.
Gathering her courage, Shaun spoke first. “What is all this? Why am I being treated like this?”
Bradshaw remained silent, looking toward Gordie. He cleared his throat, appearing uncomfortable. “Agent O’Grady, you’re here to tell us everything that happened.”
“I was taken hostage by two vamp -- necros.” Her eyes swung to Torres, seeking support. “Didn’t Lt. Torres tell you that?”
“I don’t remember anything beyond entering the darkness,” Torres said. “I don’t know what happened to you.”
Shaun swallowed down her fear, striving to maintain a level tone. “The two necros knocked out Torres somehow and took me. It’s as simple as that.”
“Where did they take you?” asked the man in the white jacket, his pen poised to record her answer.
Shaun squinted at him, seeing the name Holmes engraved on the breast of the coat. Hesitating, she searched her mind for an answer, refusing to reveal the whereabouts of Armand and Foster. “I don’t know. It was a house of some kind, but I was out for the journey.”
“What time did you regain consciousness?” Holmes asked.
With a shrug, she said, “I was already in the structure. I don’t really know.”
“What did the necros do to you?” Gordie’s eyes focused on her turtleneck. “Did they feed from you?”
Since she could hardly deny it in light of the abundant bite marks on her neck and body, she nodded once.
“Yet, you survived.” Bradshaw’s voice was like an ice pick stabbing into Shaun’s ears. She made no effort to hide her suspicion. “How can that be?”
Squirming, Shaun struggled to maintain eye contact with the intimidating brunette, sensing any hint of weakness would be exploited. “They don’t kill their prey.”
; Torres scoffed. “Right. They’re fucking animals, O’Grady.”
It took every ounce of control not to lash out at Torres for his condemnation of Armand and Foster. Shaun knew she couldn’t reveal any strong feelings for either of them, or she might never get out of here. “I’m sitting here, living proof they didn’t kill me.” Her eyes narrowed. “As are you, Torres. Two master vampires against an agent going in blind? They could have killed you easily.”
His mouth tightened, but he nodded in acknowledgement.
Shaun turned back to Bradshaw, knowing the woman held the decision about her fate. “When can I get out of here? I want to go home.”
Bradshaw studied her coolly for a moment before her mouth curled. “As soon as you prove you haven’t been tainted. As a source of sustenance for them, you might have accidentally been exposed.”
“I’m as human as you are.” Although Shaun doubted that. Director Bradshaw seemed more machine than human, with her brain practically spitting out equations and tabulating outcomes every second of the day. The idea of the woman having a heart or emotions was laughable.
“Fine. Once Dr. Holmes performs tests, we’ll meet back here to see when ... or if ... you’re leaving.”
Shaun nodded, struggling to hide any trace of fear. She knew the test results would be negative for infection, so she had nothing to fear. So why was her heart still racing as she got to her feet to follow Holmes and Torres from the room? Why couldn’t she really believe it was nearly over?
* * * * *
Two hours later, Shaun once again sat at the table, surrounded by the same faces as before. Holmes had several sheets spread around him, his brow furrowing as he examined them. Every once in a while, he would look up at her, his eyes full of eagerness. Her skin crawled each time his gaze settled on her. Hunger blazed in his eyes, but not the sexual kind. That would be a relief to the nameless need reflected in his gaze, because at least she could understand sexual desire.
Gordie was the first to speak. “There are more questions, Agent O’Grady.”