Cursed fs-1 Page 20

“A little over two weeks.”

  She passes a hand over her face. “My show in New York . . .”

  Zack and I look at each other. That’s the least of it. We have to come up with explanations—cover stories—for Amy, Isabella, and Owen.

  And for our superiors. We certainly can’t report any of this to the Bureau.

  I look from Amy to Isabella. “You two need to come up with a story to explain why you’ve been gone. Particularly you, Amy. Your disappearance hit the papers and there’s been a lot of speculation, especially since you missed the opening of your own show. Haskell has done a good job deflecting the press, but you’re going to have to come up with an explanation the public will buy.”

  Amy nods. She shoots the others a look of resignation. “I’ll have to give it some thought. You’d think as a vampire, I’d be used to lying, wouldn’t you?”

  There’s a general murmur of agreement.

  I turn to Isabella. “Any ideas? You’ve been gone the longest, a little over two months.”

  “Two months!” Her expression darkens. “That bitch stole two months of my life? How on earth am I going to catch up with school? Never mind my internship.”

  She’s on the verge of tears, so I give her a minute. “You should know, Michael never gave up hope.”

  Isabella’s face clears and her eyes brighten. “He wouldn’t. No matter what, Michael always seems to be there for me.”

  “He knows you best,” I say. “He’ll be wanting an explanation and could be the hardest to convince.”

  Isabella nods. “I’ll tell him I had to get away to clear my head. He knows how conflicted I’ve been about this whole vampire thing. He’ll yell and carry on, but he’ll accept it. That’s what best friends do.” She frowns. “What am I going to say to the people at school? They’ve probably dropped me by now.”

  “I can pay the dean an unofficial visit and explain you were under our protection,” Zack says. “A witness to something we can’t discuss, but that it’s over now. I’ll flash my badge, be vague but officious. I can be very convincing.”

  Isabella’s eyes sweep Zack, head to feet. “I’m sure you can be. Especially since the dean’s a she.” Isabella is smiling again. “I’m confident you’ll wrap her around your finger in no time flat.”

  “I’m not sure I can do anything about your internship, though,” he continues. “Michael mentioned they couldn’t hold the position.”

  She sighs, then steps closer to me, lowers her voice. “How is Michael?”

  Her question jolts me back into facing the predicament I dodged before.

  Her friend is in the next room, awaiting a transplant that isn’t going to happen. Should I tell her? How will she feel knowing her freedom may be his death warrant?

  She’s wringing her hands. “His health had been failing.”

  Once again, I’m torn between telling her the truth—all of it—and leaving it to Dexter to explain the gravity of his condition when they’re together.

  I shrug noncommittally. “You’ll see him soon enough. He’ll be thrilled to have you home.”

  Owen’s laugh makes Isabella turn away from me. Another reprieve. Zack has been questioning Owen, asking if he has a story ready. Owen’s response is a burst of laughter.

  “I don’t need a story,” he says, grinning. “I’ve never been part of the mainstream. I’m forever disappearing, going off on binges. My sire seems to have infinite patience for my bullshit and accepts my comings and goings. I’ve only been gone a couple of days, right? I doubt anyone’s missed me. Evan, if you give me a lift to the nearest Emporium, I can take it from there. If I’m going to stay on the wagon, I’m going to need a good supply.”

  Amy glances down at the scrubs. “There’s one problem. I can’t go home like this.”

  “Me, either,” chimes in Isabella. “We’ll need clothes to make our stories stick.”

  Evan holds out a hand to me. “Can I borrow your car? I’ll bring Amy and Isabella to Liz. She’ll be able to take care of the clothes.”

  I drop my keys in his hand. “Leave the car in your guest spot and the keys in the glove box. I have a spare. When we’re finished here, Zack will drive me over to get it.” I lower my voice. “Don’t rush to get Isabella and Amy home. We’ll need some time to sort this mess out.”

  “No kidding.” Evan smiles in sympathy, looking around. “I’ll drop Owen off first. You know Liz. She’ll want to know every detail of what happened. That should buy you a couple of hours at least.” His voice softens. “I can’t thank you enough, Emma. You’ve gone above and beyond. I hope you don’t get in trouble with your boss. I’m not sure how you’re going to explain—”

  I interrupt with a wave of a hand. “Don’t worry about that, just get home. Liz has some news I think you’ll like.” I cast my own skeptical eye around the room. “But you’re right, Zack and I have a lot of cleaning up to do.”

  Evan shepherds everyone out, the vampires leaving with repeated offerings of thanks.

  Then Zack and I are alone. I take stock of the mess we’re in. We have a secret lab in downtown San Diego filled with custom-made silver-lined coffins. We have one very dead transplant surgeon. And last, but not least, we have a sedated and critically ill famous artist. I walk over to where Dr. Barbara Pierce’s body is lying on the floor. She’s looking up at me, her face drained of color, her eyes empty, her neck grotesquely twisted, mangled by a dozen frenzied bite marks.

  It’s one thing for Isabella and Amy to come up with plausible cover stories. How are Zack and I ever going to come up with ours? I look over at Zack. “Got any bright ideas, Mr. Handyman?”

  He’s at the sink. He’s just finished rinsing off his burned hands and is wrapping gauze around them. “Now that we have a body to get rid of, she appreciates me.”

  “We don’t have much time. We can’t leave Alan sitting in his office forever. Somebody from the foundation might come in and find him.”

  Zack joins me. We’re now standing across from each other, Pierce’s body on the floor between us. “Fast, foolproof, or free,” he says. “Pick two. You can’t have all three.”

  “You’re going to charge me?” I ask.

  Zack frowns. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can do free and foolproof, but it’s going to take some time. Or free and fast, but—”

  I cut him off. I get it. “We need a cleaner.”

  He nods. “I know someone in the area,” he says. “I can call in a favor.”

  The tone of his voice tells me he will, but he doesn’t really want to. I understand. He’s trying to leave his old life, his old contacts, behind.

  Still, what choice do we have? I can’t see any way out of the situation we find ourselves in.

  I open my mouth to respond, but before I can make a sound, Zack holds up his hand to silence me.

  I freeze.

  He cocks his head slightly to the side and listens, his expression intent.

  I listen, too, but I don’t hear a thing.

  In short order Zack points to his ear, holds up three fingers. I nod. There are three people outside. He points to me, to himself, then with both hands to the walls on either side of the entrance. I already have my gun out. Together, we move, swiftly, silently. My back is flush against the left side of the door, Zack is on the right. I’m acutely aware I’m not wearing Kevlar and try to remember the last time I discharged my weapon at the firing range. It’s been a while.

  I slowly release a breath and try to relax. My eyes connect with Zack’s. He appears calm, confident. His stance is relaxed. He holds his weapon as if it were a natural extension of his body. He senses what’s coming. Reflexively, his nose lifts, his nostrils flare, his eyes widen. I see the change in him, but not in enough time to react.

  Next thing I know, I’m pinned to the wall. My feet are barely touching the floor. My arms are being held high above my head.

  By an extremely old and pissed-off vampire.

  CHAPTER 22

  This vampire’s strength
is like none I’ve ever encountered. The Glock falls from my hand and clatters to the floor. Before I can get a good look at him, his face is buried in the crook of my neck. His nose travels from the spot just behind my ear, to the top of my shoulder, skimming along the surface of my skin. He hesitates for a fraction of a second along the way, and I shudder. The involuntary response, a testament to his power and my fear, pleases him. I feel him smile against my collarbone.

  He slowly pulls back, his face just inches from mine.

  I realize I’ve seen him before. Twice.

  First at Liz’s.

  Then going into the Blood Eemporium in the Gaslamp District.

  The man in black.

  “A Siren. Remarkable,” he whispers, a quiet reverence to his tone.

  That voice. A rumbling baritone. Familiar. Unmistakable. Simon’s “boss.”

  He’s as tall as Zack, maybe slightly taller. His muscles are leaner, his face thinner, the cheekbones are more defined. Shoulder-length black hair hangs loose in waves framing his oval-shaped face and clear blue eyes.

  My mouth is dry. He sees through the glamour. I swallow. “You know what I am?”

  Behind me I hear Zack growling in frustration. Sounds of scuffling, as if he’s fighting to be released. But I can’t see him. My view is blocked by an expanse of chest covered in a very expensive black dress shirt under a leather jacket. The top two buttons of the shirt are open, hinting at the smooth, flawless chest beneath.

  The vampire’s smile is bittersweet. “A sister of yours made me happy once. But that was many, many years ago . . . and before I was turned. I am Kallistos.”

  Behind him, the struggling ceases. For a fraction of a second, everything is completely still. The name means nothing to me. Evidently it means something to Zack.

  “Kallistos Kouros, Sovereign of the Western Territory?” he asks.

  “The one and only.” The smile turns so bright it could light up a room. He exudes the kind of easy confidence possessed only by one comfortable with his power. “Release him.” Kallistos is speaking to someone else, but all of his attention is focused on me. His grip loosens on my hands and he gently lowers my arms to my side and takes a step back.

  He tries to slip into my mind. I feel the long-reaching tendrils of his will searching for an opening. He’s very strong and very skilled, but a vampire’s thrall is no match for my own powers. He may be a tad over a thousand years old, but I’m older and I’ve had many years of practice. I deftly and unceremoniously push him out.

  The force of my rejection is so strong it must feel like a slap in the face. I could have been gentler, kinder, used more finesse. But Kallistos needs to know when it comes to this, I have the upper hand, and always will. He doesn’t try to push back. Not even a little. He accepts the boundary that I’ve drawn. It’s almost as if he’s longed for it, for someone he can’t readily control.

  “A wondrous and worthy opponent.” His voice is low and deep. “I love a woman who knows what she wants. Have dinner with me.”

  Well, that was unexpected.

  Suddenly Zack and I are shoulder to shoulder. He hands me my gun and puts his arm possessively around my waist. “My partner has plans.”

  “Plans,” Kallistos repeats. The word rolls off his tongue as if it’s foreign to him and he’s testing it out. Men like Kallistos don’t have to make plans. The world is at their disposal. He’s used to getting what he wants, when he wants it.

  “That’s right,” Zack answers.

  A slow, sardonic smile forms on Kallistos’ lips. “Look at you, trying to mark your territory.”

  Zack doesn’t rise to the bait. “I don’t consider Agent Monroe territory.”

  Kallistos leans in. The smile fades. “Trust me, you’d be better off if you did.”

  “Which sister?” I ask, moving so that I am between Zack and Kallistos. Which sister doesn’t matter. Whether it was my older sister or my younger, I can guess the story. They fell in love. It didn’t end happily ever after. I just want to put distance between him and Zack. I feel Zack’s rage mounting.

  “I’m not here to dredge up the past.” Kallistos steps back, now flanked by the two other vampires he’d brought with him.

  “Why are you here?” I ask him.

  “The witch called me. She asked for my help. Her story piqued my interest, so I went to see her. We’ve had a rash of missing vampires lately. While I was there, one of her spells kicked in. She was able to pinpoint Evan’s location. Here. She wanted to come with me but—” He looks around the room. “I didn’t know what we’d find. I convinced her to wait.”

  Convinced? Compelled, most likely. “You just missed Evan,” I say. “He should be home shortly.”

  Kallistos turns and surveys the room, taking in the disarray. “There were others.”

  “Six.” Zack gestures to the coffins on the far side of the room. “Two were completely desiccated. Evan said they were beyond help.”

  Kallistos crosses to one of the silver-lined tombs, opens the lid, then places his hands on the side and peers in. Smoke rises between his fingers. I smell his flesh burn, yet he doesn’t flinch. “She kept them in here?”

  “Yes,” Zack replies. “Evan released them.”

  “What they must have endured. And some say we are the monsters.” His expression is a mixture of bewilderment and disgust.

  His gaze sweeps the room. “The ones Evan released, who were they?”

  Zack’s crosses his arms. He’s being cooperative, but he isn’t happy about the interrogation. “No idea.”

  Kallistos walks over to Barbara Pierce. “This one was responsible for their capture and containment?”

  Zack nods.

  “What happened to her?”

  “Isabella Mancini killed her. When she woke, she was half mad from starvation and torture,” I explain. “There were two others we were able to save, an Amy Patterson and some kid named Owen Cooper.” His expression changes ever so slightly when I mention the last name. Is it relief? I can’t tell. “No missing person’s report on Cooper as far as I know. That name wasn’t familiar.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t quite live in the mainstream. Amy Patterson. Isn’t she the artist who’s been missing?” he asks.

  I nod.

  Kallistos points to the door Zack is standing in front of. Zack has his arms crossed over his chest, his expression stern.

  “Who’s in there? I detected four heartbeats in the building—three on this floor, one on the main floor. From the way you’re guarding the door, I’m going to guess human.”

  Zack looks surprised that Kallistos was able to detect the number of heartbeats before even entering the room. I have heard that only the oldest and most powerful of vampires acquire the skill, but in my immortal life span, I’ve never met one. No wonder Zack hasn’t, either.

  Before today.

  I wonder what other tricks Kallistos has up his sleeve.

  “He had nothing to do with this,” I say. “Like the others, he was kidnapped and brought here against his will. He’s sick, dying, and he’s come to peace with that. His lover hadn’t. We need to get him to a hospital.”

  Kallistos’ eyes narrow. “But what is he doing here, in this lab? Why were any of them here?”

  I realize he doesn’t know about Pierce’s organ factory. I tell him, quickly, succinctly. How she was blackmailed and forced to harvest organs from humans for a black market transplant operation. How she came up with the idea of using vampires since, to her way of thinking, they were already dead. I relayed her discoveries. Vampires are universal donors, possessing organs that won’t be rejected. They’re capable of donating repeatedly, potentially endlessly. And then, finally, I told him about the silver, how she used it to subdue, restrain, and anesthetize her captives during surgery. How prolonged exposure to the silver appeared to be what caused the severe desiccation, the madness, the need for absolute death.

  I expect an explosion of revulsion and rage. Instead his eyes are clou
ded with sadness. “This is why we hide ourselves, our powers, our gift,” he says. “Perhaps someday when humans learn humanity, things will be different.”

  Kallistos removes his jacket, then begins to roll up his sleeves. “We can avoid the hospital for this human. Out of my way.”

  I cross to stand beside Zack.

  “He’s not going to be turned,” Zack tells him.

  Kallistos isn’t used to being told anything. That much is obvious. He doesn’t react with anger, though. Instead his gaze turns to me.

  “I can help him. Surely, a soul as old as you, a creature with your amount of . . . experience . . . knows this.”

  I do know. That’s what makes this entire debacle even more tragic. I nod.

  Kallistos turns to Zack. “Move aside, dog.”

  “Make me.”

  Kallistos grins and takes one step closer. I reach out, planting a hand firmly in the middle of his chest. “This is unnecessary. Explain to him.”

  Several seconds pass. I hold my breath.

  “I have no intention of turning him,” the vampire assures Zack.

  Only he doesn’t buy it. He continues to stand his ground.

  I reach for Zack’s arm. “Trust him. The blood of an old one has the power to heal. A few sips of Kallistos’ blood and Michael will be cured.”

  “I’ve never heard—”

  “Trust me.”

  His lips press into a thin line. “You’re certain?” His hand is now poised on the doorknob. He looks at me expectantly. I know what’s he’s asking. His intent telegraphs itself as clearly as if he’d spoken it aloud. He wants to know if I can read Kallistos, if it’s safe.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m sure. Absolutely sure.”

  The door opens. Kallistos pushes past. I turn to follow, sense Zack at my back. I turn, shake my head. “No, you have to stay here.”

  Confusion clouds his face.

  “Please,” I add. “I don’t want you caught in the wake of my powers. I need to read him alone. You need to trust me. I can’t deal with both of you at the same time.”

  He looks ready to argue, but he holds his tongue.

  “I’m sorry.”