Death's Rival

Alex had pitched to the vamps had started out as thinly supported conjecture on our part, but Reach had contacted a researcher at CDC and managed to confirm most of it. This scenario was the only thing that explained why the Seattle humans had gotten sick, then better, and then been taken away. It also explained why the new MOC had left only one human antibiotic factory in Sedona for Ro to drink from.

Alex looked at me for his cue. We had planned the timing of this part of the lecture carefully, to allow the vamps and humans time to take it all in without panic, and for me to study them all while they did. When I thought there had been enough time, I lifted a finger to Alex.

“There is also a new nationwide corporation called Blood-Call,” he said. The attention of several vamps sharpened at the name. “VR,” Alex said, “may be administered to unsuspecting vampires on a Blood-Call appointment. A vampire drinks from a Blood-Call lady or man of the evening, one who is freshly injected with the drug and virus combo. The vampires who drink from the infected humans get a feeling of euphoria, driving them back again and again. After a few visits, they begin to bleed internally. They need more drug and they need the treatment, and they’ll give anything to get it.”

I figured that VR was the metallic scent I had detected early on, in victims of the disease, but saw no point in saying so. I could identify the drug by its smell. Not that it would ever do me any good.

A vamp raised his hand, and I covered a snort with a fake cough at the sight of an elegant undead requesting permission to speak, like a kid in class. Grégoire asked, “Are all of the blood-meals offered by Blood-Call infected?”

“No. Most of the humans are healthy,” Alex said. “I’ve traced indications that special transportation is arranged to the city of choice when de Allyon is ready to make a move on it. He uses a charter company based in Atlanta, and flies his infected humans into the city for dinner.”

Grégoire, Leo’s secundo and heirs’ heir, nodded, one finger in the air. “So, perhaps we can trace the location of the next attack by the movements of this special charter service, oui?”

“Good idea,” Alex said, typing into his little electronic tablet thingy. “I’ll see if I can get into the system and trace down the accounting. That way we can tell when a flight is being activated by de Allyon. In fact, I can take a look-see and find out how many have been sent here.” The silence in the room was intense at that, as the vamps all considered who they had sipped from recently who might not be in their own personal menagerie.

Into the worried silence, Katie said, “Leo owns two small research laboratories, one in Arizona, one in Houston. They are currently working on a cure to the disease and an antidote to this drug. We have Sabina and Bethany, two of very few priestesses in his land, both of whom have the power to heal, even to cure this disease. Few masters of the city have such outclan at their disposal. We also have the Mercy Blade, with the power to heal. This new information will accelerate the process of finding a cure. Our people need not worry, should any become ill with this plague. We will care for our own.”

Alex looked up from his keying. “Sorry. Okay. So. How does the virus work? The vampire immune system is attacked by the Ebola variant and VR combo, and other bacteria quickly take over,” Alex went on, “the same way that bacteria would break down any dead body.”

I almost groaned. He had just called some of the most powerful vamps in the nation dead. Which they were, but still. I glanced around, gratified that none of them seemed to be taking offense. I’d hate to have to stake someone for hurting Stinky, and I was already in enough trouble with the vamps.

“It makes the victims look like plague victims. The important thing to remember is that the vamps are addicted and sick. That’s why the masters of the city in Sedona, Seattle, and Boston gave up without a fight. De Allyon owns them undead body and soul.”

I spoke up. “And do we know who from Asheville, um . . . dated a Blood-Call escort?” All the vamps in the room turned as one to me and stared.

Finally Leo said, his voice all Frenchy and stilted, “An internal investigation will take place. Those who need to be notified of the results will be informed. Please continue, young man.”

Ah, I thought. As in “not me.” Gotcha.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Vampires Are Like Boars. And Like Kits

An hour into the meeting, my phone vibrated in my jeans pocket. I stood to slip out of the room. So did Bruiser, holding his own cell. We met in the hallway and both of us took the calls.

“Jane. Derek here. I just got word that Sabina is sick. The crazy nutso priestess, the one with loose marbles, that Bethany chick, wants to go to her, but I’m not risking one of my men to take her.”

“Wait, wait. Sick? How sick?”

“She woke up this evening and she was bleeding. She called in, but my men are not driving Bethany. And Leo’s cars all got torched along with the house.”

“Bleeding,” I whispered. Sabina had healed the once-sick vamp Callan. Now she was sick. “I’ll make sure that Bethany is taken to Sabina. Thanks.”

“Copy.” The call-ended light appeared on my cell.

Bruiser was hanging up too. “Bethany wants a ride to the Mithran graveyard,” he said.

“Yeah. Sabina is sick.” My mouth turned down. “She probably has the illness she healed Callan from, and if Bethany sips from her while trying to heal her, Bethany will be sick too.”

“Understood,” Bruiser said. “I’ll handle it.” But he didn’t hurry away, instead, standing apart from me in the narrow hall, watching me, giving me space. Giving me time.

I remembered the way Bethany had healed Bruiser from the dead. She had been more than half naked, sitting on top of him in Katie’s office, giving him her blood, her essence, to bring him back from the dead. I wanted to be angry at him for his subsequent betrayal—okay, I wanted to hit him so hard my fist would pop out his back—but I knew what vamp blood, especially large amounts of vamp blood, could do to a human. “You know, if the vamps and their pals would tell me what was going on and I didn’t have to fly by the seat of my pants all the time, I’d make fewer mistakes. Like maybe I’d have carried the Enforcer I shot into Grégoire’s room and made him heal him. Instead, he’s dead.”

“Had Grégoire’s blood-servants known the man you shot was going to die, and had we known he was a valuable blood-servant, and had we known his master was going to attack so many other masters, the man would still be alive.” Bruiser’s face softened and something odd sifted through me. He was being kind. “You did the best you could with the information you had, Jane. So did we. No one knew that you had hit an artery with your second shot. No one knew he would bleed internally. None of us could read the future or delve into the heart of an enemy. Don’t carry guilt that isn’t yours.”

I stared up into his eyes as he spoke, trying to remember to be angry at him, unsettled by his kindness. But after all the events and memories of my own, that was hard. Instead I just felt . . . more empty, if that was possible. Bruiser cocked his head at me, as if trying to read my thoughts. He looked younger, leaner than only a few days past, and his skin glowed with health. The amount of vamp blood he had ingested had given him back ten years. I wanted to smooth my hand along his cheek, just to see if his skin really was as velvety as it looked. I also still wanted to belt him a good one. I curled my fingers around my cell and shook my head. “None of you ever leads a normal life, do you?”

“I bloody well hope not,” Bruiser chuckled, his British tones leaking through. “Normal is short, painful, and boring.”

“But if you were normal—” I stopped, having almost said, If you were normal you wouldn’t have had to watch me being forcefully fed on. But I had been normal once, and I’d watched my father killed and my mother raped. Being normal was no proof against horror.

Bruiser reached out a hand and touched my face. “If I were normal, I’d be dead by now, love. I’d likely have never lived to see a moon landing or an intercontinental flight, never had the chance to see the Russian ballet, or hear Pavarotti in his prime, never lived to see the advent of the electronic age. I’d trade normal for that any day.” His smile widened. “And even if I’d lived as a normal man, I’d have been very, very old by now, and you’d have thought I was cheeky at best, not charming and debonair.” I raised my brows as if challenging