Out of the Night

by Robin T. Popp

  “Yes.” The professor looked at the desk chair just past Mac. “Would you mind if I sat down? This pack can get heavy after a while.”

  Mac nodded, backing away to allow the professor room to walk. As he passed by him, Mac noticed movement in the backpack.

  “What’s in there?” He was instantly alert.

  “Nothing dangerous,” the professor hurried to assure him. He slipped the pack from his shoulders and lowered it gently to the floor. “This is Gem, the baby chupacabra,” he explained, unzipping the top and reaching in.

  Dirk hurried across the room to stand beside Mac.

  “She won’t hurt you,” the professor said when he noticed that neither of them had relaxed their stance.

  “You’ll have to forgive us if we seem doubtful,” Mac said. “Our experience with chupacabras hasn’t been good.”

  At that announcement, the professor’s head snapped up and he studied them both carefully. “Really?”

  “Yes, we both had run-ins with the adult.”

  “You were both attacked?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “That explains it.”

  “Explains what?” Dirk asked.

  “Why I can feel your thoughts and emotions through the link—we were all created by the same creature. Although,” he added ruefully, “I misinterpreted that last burst of emotion I picked up from you.”

  Mac knew he had to be referring to the moment when Mac had bitten Lanie, but he wasn’t about to explain it to her father. “There is one difference between us,” he pointed out. “We were attacked, but never actually died.”

  The professor looked confused. “But I saw you in the alley where those three men jumped you. I saw your speed and strength; your eyes and fangs.” His eyes took on an unnatural red glow. “The thought of those men attacking my daughter made me so mad, I wanted to feel their flesh against my mouth, tear out their throats, and drink their worthless blood until I’d consumed every drop. And if I couldn’t do it myself, I was glad to have you do it for me.”

  Mac felt a moment’s confusion. Those had been his exact thoughts and feelings that night. Or had they? Was it possible that the professor, much in the same way Burton had controlled the chupacabra, had transmitted his emotions to Mac? It seemed more than likely, and a weight lifted from him. Perhaps he wasn’t a monster.

  “If you’re not vampires,” the professor began, interrupting Mac’s thoughts, “then that would make you—?” He paused as his eyes took on a gleam of excitement. “So the legends are true. Does Charles know?”

  “About us?” Mac nodded. “Yes—and he knows about you as well.”

  Just then the creature, no doubt tired of being ignored, pushed up against the professor’s hand. As he lifted it out of the backpack, Mac got his first look at the baby chupacabra. It reminded him of the statue sitting on his sister’s desk back home—only larger. She called it a Desk Guardian, in the form of a ceramic gargoyle.

  Thinking of Sandra, he reminded himself to call her and let her know he was all right—and prayed that it wasn’t a lie.

  The professor sat on the desk chair and the baby jumped up to land on his shoulder, where it sort of hunkered down and perched. “If you wouldn’t mind,” he said, looking at both Mac and Dirk, “I’d really like to know more about your attacks and how the changes came about.”

  Mac and Dirk exchanged looks and shrugged. Neither could see the harm in telling him, so they each described their attacks. His interest seemed to be more scientific than anything else.

  Finally, Lanie appeared in the doorway between the two rooms. Her hair was damp, but Mac thought she had never looked more beautiful to him. He quickly had to rein in thoughts of shared showers before he became too distracted to pay attention to her father. Even now, Mac felt Weber’s eyes on him and when he glanced at the man, he saw a father’s concern for his daughter.

  Just then, Lanie caught sight of the small chupacabra and gave a cry of delight as she reached out to stroke the small creature’s head, as her father had done moments earlier.

  “Her name is Gem,” he told her. “Isn’t she something?”

  Lanie looked up and Mac saw the smile that passed between father and daughter. There was such warmth in it that he felt an unfamiliar pang of jealousy. When Lanie turned and shared that smile with him, the resulting jolt of surprise and joy caught him off guard. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d reached out to scratch the creature’s head.

  For several minutes, Mac stood by and watched as Lanie acquainted herself with Gem. The professor told her all about the creature’s feeding habits and needs. It was as if he was leaving his pet with her while he went on vacation and it occurred to Mac that, perhaps, he was doing exactly that.

  “Professor Weber, you said you were interested in a trade?”

  The professor’s face grew somber, and he gave Mac a solemn look. “I overheard Lance talking to the other, uh, men last night. He said he’d talked to his contact, and funds had been transferred to his account.”

  Beside him, Dirk swore. The news wasn’t entirely surprising. Last year’s ambush had no doubt been funded by the same contact for the same purpose—Lance’s greed.

  “I don’t suppose you know what their plans are?”

  The professor nodded. “They’re going to Camp David. They talked about how easy it would be for them to slip past all the security.”

  Mac and Dirk exchanged looks. Things had just taken a serious turn for the worse. Mac had no doubt that Burton and his special-ops team of vampires would do just as they boasted. They probably could slip right past security—elusive shadows, undetectable and deadly.

  “Who’s the target?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

  “The President of the United States.”

  Chapter 19

  Lanie gasped and felt her world tilt off kilter a little more. Chupacabras, vampires, and now possible terrorist actions? Her life used to be so safe, stable, and uneventful. What was running into a burning building compared to all this? Boring. “I don’t understand,” she heard herself saying. “Why would he go after the President?”

  The three men looked at her with similar expressions, making her think the answer was obvious but she was too dense to figure it out. Then they all answered at once.

  “Power.”

  “Greed.”

  “Money.”

  “But he’s a vampire,” she protested. What did the undead need with any of those things?

  “Being dead didn’t change him. Burton has always been the type of person who’s never satisfied,” Mac explained. “He constantly wanted more, whether he deserved it or not. That’s a good part of why he never succeeded in the military. It was all about him, not what was good for the unit or the country.”

  “When he couldn’t get what he wanted by working inside the system, he decided to work outside of it,” Dirk added. “I would imagine that he’s tired of doing it piecemeal and is going straight for the brass ring.”

  “But the President? Why go after him?”

  “Because he can,” Dirk said. “He has the abilities.”

  “Think what would happen to our country if the President was shot at his private retreat,” Mac continued. “No one would feel safe anymore. Plus, rumors are that the Vice President’s health isn’t good. He has a weak heart. If they assassinate the President, then the strain of taking over could kill the Vice President as well, thus taking out the top two levels of leadership and placing the U.S. in an extremely vulnerable state. Which of our enemies wouldn’t pay a fortune for that to happen?”

  What they said made sense. “We have to stop him.”

  “We will,” Mac said firmly. “You will stay out of it.”

  Thirty minutes later, Lanie sat listening to her father describing, again, everything he’d overheard Lance planning. This time, Uncle Charles was there to hear it.

  He’d come as soon as Mac had phoned him. When he first arrived, Lanie had expected to see
a heartfelt reunion between him and her father, but Charles had acted wary, making her father shift nervously under his close scrutiny. After several tense moments of uncomfortable silence, her father had tentatively held out his hand to congratulate his old friend—something about a family legacy and understanding what it meant—and that seemed to ease the tension on both sides.

  Then they’d all sat down to listen to what her father had to say. When he finished, the admiral, Mac, and Dirk retired to Mac’s room to figure out their next course of action, leaving Lanie and her father alone. It was the first time she’d had to really focus on him; his death and current state weighed heavily on her mind.

  “What’s it like to be . . . ?” She wasn’t sure how to put it, but her father seemed to know what she meant.

  “Undead?”

  She smiled. “Yeah.”

  “Well, the speed and strength are nice.” He chuckled. “I was never particularly strong or athletic growing up, so it’s a nice change.”

  “What about the blood?”

  He shrugged. “The blood doesn’t bother me. It’s what I need now to survive. My body craves it.” His tone, which had been analytical and light, grew serious. “I don’t like killing to get the blood, and to the extent that I don’t have to, I won’t. What worries me is that, each day, the thought of killing grows less daunting. It’s like being a member of the undead somehow affected my soul—my ability to respect life and the living. I’m afraid that one night I’ll rise and be the monster in the horror stories, unable to remember what it was like to have a conscience. I can easily see where someone of, let’s say, questionable moral fiber would become a real threat if ever he, or she, were to become a vampire.”

  His words chilled her. “You mean someone like Lance Burton.”

  “Yes, exactly. I hope they’re able to stop him,” he said, nodding to the other room. He stood then and pulled her to her feet, enfolding her in his arms. “I have missed you so much these last several months.”

  “I missed you, too.” She hugged him close. “When they told me you were dead, I—” Her voice cracked. “I’m so sorry for not spending more time with you.”

  “Hush, child. There is no need for regrets. I couldn’t have asked for a finer daughter. While this is a strange existence to be sure, it is not horrible—yet. However, I find the lure of human blood a temptation that wears on me, and I’m afraid that sooner or later, I will slip and become a danger to those around me—even you. So, I’ve decided to remove myself before anything like that happens.”

  Lanie gasped, looking up at him. “You’re not thinking about killing yourself, are you?”

  “You mean, permanently?” He gave her a sad smile, but shook his head. “I haven’t the courage, but I won’t stay here.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I think back to the Amazon. I want to find Guberstein’s village. It would be the find of a lifetime.”

  “But no one knows where it is. You could be in the jungle for years, looking, and never find it.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m immortal.”

  She tried to smile at his joke, but it was too hard. He was leaving, and she’d never see him again, unless . . . “I’ll go with you.”

  He rested his cheek on her head. “No. I think not. You’re still human, and it wouldn’t be safe. Besides, unless I’m mistaken, I think your young man might want you to stay.”

  Her young man. As far as she knew, Mac still blamed her for the accident that changed him into something he hated. Their lovemaking had been about a warm body in the right place at the right time. Nothing more—at least, not to Mac. Sooner or later, she would return to Houston, alone, having lost the two men she loved most dearly in life.

  It was the first time she’d allowed herself to form the thought, but once it was there, she knew it to be true. She loved Mac. The realization made anticipating the future without him that much harder.

  “I have to go.” Her father’s voice broke into her thoughts. He released her and turned to where the baby chupacabra rested on the bed. He lifted the creature into his arms and held her, stroking her head and neck with great affection. “I want you to take care of Gem for me,” he told Lanie. “I’m not as talented at evading Lance and his men as they are at tracking. If he wants Gem, she’s safer with you and Mac than with me.”

  Lanie reached out and stroked the little chupacabra’s neck. “Will you be in touch?”

  “If I can, I’ll contact you—I promise. There are a couple more things—before the others come back.” He put the chupacabra back on the bed and retrieved his backpack from the floor. From inside, he pulled out several bags of blood and set them on the small desk. “Dog’s blood, for Gem.” Then he took out a small bundle of cloth, which he handed to her. “This is for you.”

  “What is it?” She took it from him and unwrapped the cloth to find a small glass vial and a syringe, like the kind used by diabetics.

  “Venom and antiserum.” He held up the vial of colorless liquid. “This is the last vial of real chupacabra venom. I took it from the adult a few days ago. As I’m sure you’re aware, there are some remarkable healing powers in this venom—if we could just figure out how to re-create and harness them. To do that, though, you’ll need to find a reputable biochemist with a good lab. But be warned, Lance has two vials that he intends to use, I’m sure, to create new recruits.”

  She nodded as he placed it back in her palm and picked up the syringe filled with amber liquid. “This is the antiserum. It attacks and destroys all the cells containing venom—in essence, killing the host. I had an opportunity to test it. It’s painful, fast—and lethal to vampires.”

  Lanie thought back to the body they found, horribly distorted, at the abandoned apartment building. “Kinsley,” Lanie said softly.

  Her father nodded. “It’s not something I’m happy about, but it needed to be tested.” He paused and gave her a significant look. “I think it will work equally well on changelings, should you find you have the need.”

  “Changelings?” It wasn’t an expression she was familiar with, but when her father looked pointedly toward the connecting door, she understood. “Oh, I don’t think—”

  Her father closed her fingers around the syringe and vial before covering her fist with his hand. “Just in case you need it, okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay.” Rewrapping the package, she tucked it into the middle of her duffel bag. She turned around, and the expression on her father’s face told her their time together was at an end. He gathered her into his arms once more and hugged her, placing a kiss on her head. “It’s not good-bye, Lanie, my sweet. More like see you later. I’ll contact you as soon as I can, but until then, you be careful, okay?”

  She nodded into his chest, the tears she’d held off so long now flowing freely down her cheeks. “I love you, Dad.”

  “As I love you.” His arms tightened around her briefly. “Tell Charles that I said . . . see you later.” Then he was gone and she was alone in the room.

  “How do you know they won’t attack tonight?” Lanie asked an hour or so later, sitting at the foot of the bed in Mac’s room. The admiral had left, and she and Mac were waiting for Dirk to return from running several errands.

  “Mainly because the President isn’t due to arrive at Camp David until tomorrow night,” Mac said in a clipped tone from where he sat by the desk.

  Now that they were alone, she was disappointed that he’d made no move to recapture their earlier closeness. She tried not to dwell on it, though, because she knew he had other things on his mind.

  “I thought the newscaster on TV said he was already there.”

  Mac shot her a look and she instantly felt foolish. It hadn’t occurred to her that the media might be fed misinformation.

  “So what’s the plan?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

  “Admiral Winslow will call in a few favors and get a warning to the Secret Service about this potential threat. We’re not
telling the FBI, or any other agencies, because we don’t want the whole world to know that vampires exist. We’ll have to deal with it quietly. In about six hours, after we’ve had some sleep, Dirk and I will fly to Camp David, where we’ll meet with the Secret Service and offer our assistance. By my estimate, we should arrive an hour before sunset with enough time to set up. I don’t think Burton will do anything before then.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  Mac’s jaw tightened as he gave her his full attention, his expression unreadable. “Go home.”

  His words cut like a knife, and she couldn’t help staring at him, her face slack with surprise. “I . . . I don’t want to go. I want to stay here.” With you. She sounded pathetic, but didn’t care.

  “You got to see and talk to your father, so you have no reason to stay.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up his hand to silence her. “Let me be blunt. I don’t want you to wait for me, Lanie. For God’s sake, just go home.”

  She felt numb from head to toe. Go home? But I love you, she wanted to scream, but the words remained unspoken.

  Finally, she found a shred of dignity. Pushing herself off the bed, she went back to her room. Every part of her wanted to slam the connecting door as hard as she could and scream at the top of her lungs, but she wouldn’t give in to it. Instead, she grabbed her duffel bag and tossed it, perhaps too forcefully, onto the bed. She fumbled for the zipper, hurt and anger nearly blinding her.

  “Lanie,” Mac’s deep voice rumbled from the connecting doorway. “I’m sorry if I . . .” He paused and panic filled her.

  Oh, God. Don’t let him apologize for not loving me. “No, you’re absolutely right. It wouldn’t have worked out.” She kept her attention focused on packing. “Besides, I need to get back to Houston. I have”—no one—“people waiting for me.”

  She shut up, at risk of rambling to fill an otherwise awkward silence. Without looking at him, she crossed to the dresser, where she took her dirty laundry from the drawer and dumped it on the bed.

  “Lanie, I—” At that moment there was a knock on the door, and Mac went into his room to open it.