“What happened?” Ami asked, worried by the uncertainty that clouded Sarah’s gaze.
“Bastien broke into network headquarters, assaulted several dozen guards, and executed one of the vamps in his apartment.”
Ami’s breath left her in a rush. “What?”
“Son of a bitch!” Marcus exclaimed.
“I don’t believe it,” Ami protested. Bastien wouldn’t do that.
Sarah nodded sadly. “It’s true.”
“Chris Reordon and a hell of a lot of others are again calling for his execution,” Roland added. “I don’t know how he managed it, but Chris took the bastard into custody and weighed him down with chains. Seth is with them now.”
“No wonder Seth didn’t answer when I called,” Marcus murmured.
“He isn’t going to do it, is he?” Ami asked. “Execute him, I mean.”
“I hope so,” Roland said, smiling with such malice Ami shivered.
Sarah frowned. “Roland, don’t be like that. You know things aren’t always as they seem.”
“Most of the time they are,” he countered, clinging tenaciously to his grudge.
“You aren’t as you seem,” Sarah pointed out.
Marcus snorted and quipped, “Most of the time he is.” Tightening his arm around Ami, he drew her closer.
Warmed by the contact, she smiled up at him … and caught him glancing surreptitiously at something behind her.
While Roland cast aspersions on Marcus’s character, Ami subtly looked in the same direction and saw nothing.
Roland and Marcus began to argue strategy while Sarah ran interference. Ami said little, content to let the others hash out the particulars. She already knew what her role would be … whether they liked it or not.
Bastien’s lair was a large, open field in which a farmhouse used to reside. The farmhouse itself had been unremarkable. Beneath it, however, had been a series of tunnels that had served as the sleeping quarters for Bastien and the hundred or so vampires he had recruited to aid him in destroying Roland and bringing down the Immortal Guardians one at a time.
After Bastien’s defeat, the farmhouse had been burned to the ground and the tunnels packed with debris, dirt, gravel, and sand.
With no trees to block the light of the moon or to stifle the swing of her katanas, Ami should be able to kick ass again.
As talk continued to flow around her, fatigue set in.
Several times, Ami saw Marcus glance to the side as unobtrusively as possible. Roland and Sarah didn’t seem to notice. Ami probably wouldn’t have either if she hadn’t been looking for it and if he didn’t rub his hand up and down her arm each time he did as though needing the contact.
Uneasiness returned with a vengeance as an explanation finally occurred to her.
Was he seeing a ghost?
Gooseflesh broke out on her arms at the thought.
Was someone the rest of them couldn’t see standing right there in the room with them? Watching them? Listening to them?
Though distracted, Ami heard the others come to an agreement. Marcus and Ami would meet Roy as arranged at Bastien’s lair (she had never doubted that much), and Roland would join them and pose as Bastien.
Other than the short hair, Roland did bear a striking resemblance to his nemesis, something she didn’t think he appreciated his wife’s mentioning.
Sarah, after some coaxing, agreed to perform her usual nightly patrols rather than accompany them. This could, after all, merely be a diversion meant to distract the immortals, luring as many as possible to one location, so whatever remained of the new vampire army could sweep through North Carolina’s cities and towns and recruit enough victims to rebuild their numbers without having to look over their shoulders.
Richart and the other immortals in the area would be put on alert. If Roy’s invitation turned into the ambush everyone feared, Richart could then teleport in every able immortal in the state and, if necessary, their Seconds.
That should suffice.
Or so they hoped.
Chapter 9
“Nice video. Did you get it off of YouTube?”
Montrose Keegan ground his teeth. He had just spent an hour filling his host in on the events of the past few years and had shown him video footage of the vampires’ battle with Roland and Sarah.
Emrys’s reaction had not met Keegan’s expectations.
Upon learning that vampires existed, should Emrys not have hung on Keegan’s every word? Congratulated him on the genius and courage he had demonstrated in pursuing his research? Listened with awe? Been overwhelmed by all that Keegan had achieved, by his discovering not just vampires, but a new race of humans?
Because he wasn’t. If anything, Emrys seemed amused, as if it were all a joke.
“No,” Keegan said, restarting the video he had just played on his laptop. “I told you, one of the vampires shot it with his cell phone. The one in the middle there, with the glowing amber eyes, is an immortal. The others are vampires. That woman”—he waited until the cell phone’s camera panned left enough to show the small, dark figure—“is Roland’s Second.” “I’m not interested in investing in your film project or whatever it is you—”
“This isn’t fiction!” Montrose blurted out, anger getting the best of him. “This is real video of vampires! Look at their glowing eyes!”
“My son has software that adds those effects to his band’s music videos. In fact, you should visit his YouTube channel and pick up some tips. This is very poorly lit. I can’t even make out their features.”
“Why won’t you believe me? I told you what happened to my brother, what I’ve been trying to accomplish ever since he was infected. I told you about the immortals. I’m offering you access to my research materials and lab notes.”
“Montrose, I’m not sure what you’re hoping to accomplish with all of this. But if vampires existed, we would know it.”
When Montrose started to object, Emrys held up a hand to silence him.
“The general public might not know it, but we would.”
“Once again, I told you: The immortals have gone to great lengths to keep all of this secret. They don’t want anyone to know about the vampires, because then they would be exposed.”
“The immortals,” Emrys repeated skeptically. “The alternate race of beings who have somehow also escaped our notice.”
“Yes.” Why was he being such a prick? The two had studied together in college, had hung out, joined the same fraternity as legacies. The fact that Emrys had once worked in the military’s bioweapons program (or so he had boasted) should not have made him question Montrose’s work or doubt its validity.
“Won’t you even look at my research?” he asked in desperation. Now that John Florek had been killed, the only other person Montrose could ask for aid was his ex-girlfriend. And he really didn’t want to go there.
Or did he? Hell, it couldn’t be any worse than this.
“Research can be fabricated,” Emrys pointed out dryly, the condescending bastard. “Lab results counterfeited. It will take more than that to convince me.”
“But the video … They’re moving so fast they blur.”
“Video speed can be altered with software.”
“But the trees are moving at regular speeds!”
“For all I know you could have videotaped those men fighting in front of a green screen, sped it up, then inserted the normal background.”
“I don’t know how to do any of that! I’m a scientist! A doctor! I’ve spent the last four years buried in my lab, not working as a fucking filmmaker!”
Emrys shrugged. “I haven’t seen you in years. How am I supposed to know how you’ve spent that time?”
Montrose rose and began to pace Emrys’s study. “Their eyes are glowing, and they have fangs.”
“The same could have been said of my son two years ago on Halloween. Personally, I doubted the safety of the glow-in-the-dark contact lenses, but he wanted them, and I tend to indulge the boy too much.”
“What is it going to take to convince you?” he demanded. John had not been nearly so difficult to convince. A glimpse of Montrose’s more intriguing research and a video of Casey sprouting fangs and draining a blood bag was all it had taken to draw him in. Time was short. Dennis grew more unpredictable every day. If Montrose didn’t give him the results he demanded …
Well, he didn’t want to end up like John, did he?
“Bring me a live subject.”
Montrose stopped short. “You want a live vampire?” Excitement raced through him. He could do that.
“And one of your so-called immortals.”
That … he couldn’t.
Emrys raised a taunting brow. “Why the hesitation?”
“I can get you a vampire. Dennis has assigned two more to work with me. But immortals are stronger and more resilient than vampires. I’ve been trying to get my hands on one for nearly two years now without success.”
Emrys leaned back and sipped his Scotch. “What seems to be the problem?”
“No matter how many vampires we throw at them, the immortals keep coming out on top. Nothing seems to faze them. They’re just … that much stronger.”
Setting his drink aside, Emrys rose. “Wait here.”
Montrose watched him stroll from the room, then eyed the bottle of Scotch. Emrys hadn’t offered him any when Montrose had arrived on his doorstep unannounced. He had just poured himself a drink and proceeded to do his damnedest to make his old friend squirm.
Or beg.
Hell, if begging was all it took, Montrose would do it. Better to beg Emrys for help than return to Dennis empty-handed.
Emrys re-entered the room before Montrose could decide whether or not to risk pouring himself a drink. In one hand, he carried a metal briefcase, outfitted with a very high-tech lock, that looked as if it would survive a nuclear blast.
Emrys set the case down, facing away from Montrose, on the side table that separated the two armchairs.