Angus recommended the last option. A swift surgical strike, he called it, somewhat like amputating a limb. A part of you would be forever lost, but you would survive.
For Phineas, the thought of losing his family felt more like having his heart ripped out. Too painful to consider, so he’d settled on telling them the truth, starting with his brother. When Angus offered to hire Freemont, it had seemed like the perfect solution. Guarding Vamps in their death-sleep during the day was usually a safe job since the Malcontents were in their death-sleep, too.
But now that his current mission was under way, Phineas worried that his decision would expose his brother to some real danger. Had he selfishly saved himself pain, only to foist it onto his family? “Freemont, listen to me. It’s already dangerous enough for you to be here, pretending to be my agent. I don’t expect anything more from you. I have backup, so when things get dicey, I’ll be covered. I want you to lay low and—”
“I can handle the spy stuff.” Freemont lifted his chin. “This is my mission if I decide to accept it. As usual, if I am captured, the government will disavow any knowledge of my actions. See? I know how it works!”
Tiffany nodded. “I want to help, too!”
Phineas groaned. He had a bad feeling about this. “All right. But this is what you do. You continue to play the roles you’re doing now. And if anything dangerous comes up, you stay clear of it, understood?” When they nodded, he continued, “We’ll hang out in the lobby, sign autographs, and see if Corky sends any of her minions for me.”
“You’ll have to be quick to take her prisoner, or she’ll teleport away,” Tiffany warned him.
“I know,” Phineas conceded. That was always a major problem when it came to catching bad vampires. Casimir had eluded them for years by simply teleporting away whenever they got close. “Go on to the lobby. We’ll be there soon.”
“Okay.” Tiffany strode toward the door, and this time, Phineas watched to make sure she left.
He turned to his brother. “Are we good now?”
Freemont nodded with a sheepish look. “I shouldn’t have doubted you, man.”
“It’s okay.” Phineas clapped him on the back. “You’ve had a lot of weird shit thrown at you tonight.”
“That’s for sure.” Freemont followed him to the door. “One thing I don’t understand, though. Why didn’t you take Tiffany up on her offer? She’s beautiful and willing—”
“I like her. As a friend.”
“Yeah, but she’s willing, dude. And you’re the Love Doctor. You gotta spread the cure.”
Phineas smiled. His brother kept reminding him of himself about five years back. “I admit there was a time when I would have jumped her.” He cracked the door and peered outside. The coast was clear.
“What happened to you, bro? You seem different these days.”
Phineas shrugged. “I grew up.” And he’d seen some bad shit. Ravaged, dead bodies left behind by Malcontents. Whole families, even children, murdered because the Malcontents enjoyed terrorizing the innocent. He’d been thrust into life and death situations, and he’d killed in battle. He could no longer pretend life was one big party.
“Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you have to be boring,” Freemont muttered.
Phineas led him down a hall lined with dressing rooms and offices. “When I first discovered I was Undead and I could possibly live forever, it sorta went to my head, you know, like I was invincible and super-macho and could do whatever the hell I pleased with as many Vamp ladies as I pleased. But then I realized they were all doing whatever they pleased, too.”
“What’s wrong with that if you’re having fun?”
Phineas slowed his steps and lowered his voice. “They didn’t see me as a person. You think we’re a minority in the real world, you should try the vampire one. I was a curiosity that all the ladies wanted to experience, and once it was over, they moved on to the next form of entertainment.”
“So you got tired of one-night stands?” Freemont wrinkled his nose. “Is that even possible?”
“Yes, it is. Eventually, I realized that being wanted as an oddity is an insult. I want to be appreciated for being myself.”
Freemont nodded his head slowly. “You want . . . respect. And that’s why you told Tiffany that stuff.”
“You got it, bro.” Phineas continued down the hall toward the lobby. Yes, he wanted respect. He wanted love. He wanted the brass ring, the whole shebang, the happily-ever-after that the other guys were getting. But he was having trouble finding the dream girl. LaToya had slipped through his fingers like mist, a dream that never became reality.
A different vision invaded his mind. Sky-blue eyes and a long mane of hair that glimmered with shades of brown, red, and gold. Beautiful, impossible Brynley. She wasn’t a dream, but a nightmare. Dressed in a fur coat.
He gestured to a door they passed by. “That’s Corky Courrant’s office. I snuck in there two weeks ago when we were shooting the Blardonnay commercial. I was searching for a clue as to where she could be hiding, but she’d already cleaned it out.”
“Bummer.”
Phineas nodded. “If she takes the bait tonight, we’ll find her.” He pushed open the doors to the lobby, and they were greeted with a chorus of high-pitched squeals.
He joined Tiffany, signing autographs, while Freemont protected him from any ominous-looking legs, arms, and breasts he was asked to sign. The fun lasted about ten minutes, and then it happened.
Three armed men crashed through the front doors, shouting and waving their weapons. The crowd, mostly women, screamed and scrambled toward the back doors.
“Everyone down on the floor and shut the hell up!” one of the intruders yelled. In case anyone had trouble understanding his thick Russian accent, he punctuated his demands by shooting a few bullets into the ceiling.
As the blare of gunfire echoed about the lobby, the screams quickly hushed. Sheetrock particles rained down, leaving traces of white powder on the intruders’ black coats. The crowd dropped to the floor, women huddled together, quivering with a few frightened whimpers.
Phineas remained standing and motioned to his brother to stay put. Freemont had crouched behind the receptionist’s desk with Susie and Tiffany.
The Russian guy was the leader, Phineas figured. A Malcontent, no doubt, sent by Corky. He was armed with an automatic pistol and an AK–47. The guys flanking him were mortal, judging from the bite marks on their necks. They either served Corky voluntarily, or she had them under vampire mind control. One was tall and skinny, with a narrow face and long nose. Rat Face, Phineas dubbed him. And the other guy, short and square, was Blockhead. The three thugs scanned the room before focusing on him.
“You.” The Russian Malcontent smirked. “You are the one called Dr. Phang.”
“What do you want?” Phineas asked.
“You will come with us. The queen wants you.”
Phineas paused as if considering the invitation, then shrugged. “No thanks. I don’t know any queens.”
The Russian pointed his automatic at the nearest girl, the cheerleader with Phineas’s autograph on her thigh. “You will come, or this one will die. Her Majesty, Queen Corky, must be obeyed.”
“Oh, that queen!” Phineas raised his hands. “Sure. Why not?”
With a sneer, the Russian motioned to his minions. “Prepare him for the journey.”
Rat Face and Blockhead approached him slowly, slipping their pistols into the shoulder holsters beneath their black coats.
“Take off your jacket,” the Russian ordered, keeping his pistol and AK–47 trained on nearby girls.
After Phineas removed his tuxedo jacket, Blockhead grabbed it and rifled through the pockets. He stuffed Phineas’s wallet and cell phone into his own coat pockets. Phineas kept his face blank, careful not to show how relieved he was that he’d deleted all contacts and messages from his phone.
“Roll up your sleeves,” the Russian demanded. “We have heard MacKay embeds tracking chips in all his vampires.”
“I no longer work for them.” Phineas shoved his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. “Angus cut the chip out last night.”
The Russian gave him a dubious look. “You have no wound on your arm.”
“It healed during my death-sleep.”
The Russian jerked his head toward Rat Face. “Check him.”
Rat Face took a small electronic device from his pocket and skimmed it up and down Phineas’s arms. “He’s
