Vincent was having a private party.
Doug went to the door and listened intently, taking full advantage of his enhanced hearing. Even above the music he could make out the sound of a man talking. He didn’t recognize the voice, and he heard a woman weeping softly.
Anger fired through him as he fought his instinct to open the door and start shooting. He had no idea what condition the girls were in, and he didn’t want to jeopardize them further.
Olivia was at her computer and typing away on the keyboard, trying to pull up her security cameras.
Olivia’s eyes widened briefly before her expression settled back into a mask of calm.
Doug threw a prayer to the universe. He turned the knob slowly, then swung it open and pressed his body against the wall before peering around the corner. The hall leading to the main floor of the club was empty.
The music tumbled around them, and the lights flashed as though it was Friday night and the club had a packed house—but they knew better. Guns extended, Doug stepped through the door and moved slowly down the short hallway with Olivia at his side. When they reached the opening to the main floor, she stopped dead in her tracks, and he felt her begin to shake.
Trixie was lashed to the top of the bar with several ropes of sterling and looked passed out, if not worse. She wasn’t moving, and through the flashing, colorful lights, Doug could see smoke rising from her flesh as it burned beneath the silver.
At the center of the dance floor, her bouncer Damien was tied to a chair and gagged. His head lolled back, and blood soaked the white T-shirt he wore. Even with the music, Doug could hear the faint, dwindling sound of his heartbeat.
There was one other faint heartbeat coming from the German shepherd. Van Helsing lay bleeding on the floor by Damien’s feet, and his tail lifted briefly, acknowledging Olivia’s presence.
They inched farther into the club side by side, and as they reached open space, they shifted so that they were again back-to-back and ready to battle. Doug, facing the DJ platform, swore loudly when he saw Sadie. She had thick chains of silver wrapped several times around her body and tied to the platform.
“Rogue One is in here somewhere, Olivia.” His fangs erupted, and his body hummed with tension. “I can smell him.”
He could feel her strong, lithe body against his, tense and ready to spring into action. He admired her restraint. It had to tear her up to see the people she loved in agony, but to her credit, she kept it together.
“I smell someone else too,” she seethed. She stopped abruptly, and the muscles in her body tensed further. She turned her head to the left and shouted, “Where the fuck are you, Vincent? You’re a sick old fuck. You started this whole mess to manipulate me into coming back to England, didn’t you?”
Only the music responded as it continued to blare around them.
“Answer me, damn it!”
“You should know me better than that, Olivia.”
The male voice, edged with sadness, drifted over from the far side of the club. They swung around toward the voice and aimed their guns in the direction of the VIP booths on the other side of the dance floor. The rapidly changing colorful lights were messing with Doug’s vision, and for the first time since he was turned, his night vision was failing him.
He and Olivia moved toward the center of the dance floor.
“Vincent?” Olivia said sharply as she looked around the club. “You fucking coward. Show yourself.”
Seconds later, to the left of the VIP booths, a tall, regal man stepped out from behind a small wall divider. Doug fleetingly remembered that the hallway behind it led to the restrooms.
Vincent had his hands behind his back and moved toward them cautiously.
“Hello, Olivia.” His voice was etched with sorrow. “This is not what you think, my child.” His eyes widened when they landed on Doug. “My, my, my. I never forget a face, especially yours. The only human I couldn’t glamour.” His brow knit in confusion. “And here you are, and now you’re one of us? Fascinating.”
“Vincent?” Olivia’s voice was shakier as soon as she set eyes on her maker. “Why are you doing this?”
Doug tightened his grip on both guns as a glint of silver caught his eye. Partially hidden behind Vincent’s disheveled shirt and tie was a rope of sterling silver. It was wrapped around his neck, and Doug glanced down to see that the chain dragged behind him.
“Olivia,” Doug said evenly. “It’s not him. Vincent’s not The Maker. Look at his neck.”
As he uttered the words, Vincent’s face twisted in pain as he was yanked backward and fell to his knees. A man Doug had never seen before stood behind him, holding the rope of silver in one gloved hand and a gun in the other. Next to him was the little blond waitress, Suzie. She wept quietly as he pointed the gun at her head. Doug immediately sensed that she had been turned.
“Hello, Olivia,” the man growled. “Long time, no see.”
“Oh my God,” she said in a rush. “Brutus.”
Olivia had never been more shocked in her three hundred years. Brutus, Augustus’s son and the vicious piece of shit she made sure was sent to hibernation, was standing before her, larger than life. Olivia kept her guns trained on him, and the only reason she didn’t fire was because of Suzie.
“Nice to see you haven’t forgotten me.”
“I should’ve put you down when I had the chance, you sick piece of shit.”
“Do you really think that my father, a czar for the Presidium, would allow that? I don’t think so.” He tugged on the chain, causing Vincent to howl in pain and hiss at his captor. “Stop your whining.” He sighed. “Actually, I’ll stop it for you. You’ve served your purpose, old man.”
A split second later, Brutus yanked viciously on the chain tied around Vincent’s neck, and Olivia watched in horror as his head popped off like a macabre party favor. As he exploded into a cloud of ash, white-hot pain shot through Olivia and bloomed in her chest as Vincent died. She arched back and screamed in excruciating agony as Doug swept in and caught her with one arm, cradling her against his broad chest.
“Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it? I remember when our maker bit the dust. It hurt like hell. My father and I cried like a couple of younglings.” Brutus laughed and pulled Suzie in front of him, still holding the gun to her head. “But you know what hurts worse? Starving in a hibernation chamber for fifty years and going mad with hunger.” His hate-filled eyes glared at them. “The blood thirst? Damn, girl. That shit will make you crazy.”
Olivia scrambled weakly to her feet with Doug’s help and pointed her gun at him again, even though her head felt like it was going to split open like an egg.
“You did this?” Her voice wavered, and her vision blurred as Doug’s voice touched her mind.
Olivia glanced at Suzie’s tearstained face.
She cleared her head and sharpened her focus, looking for other vampires in the club, but her senses were wonky from the impact of Vincent’s death. As her dizziness faded and her senses cleared, the distinct foul stench of Rogue One filled her head. Brutus was the rogue? How could that be? Olivia shook her head as if she could shake off the confusion.
“Do you know what I had time to do when I was in hibernation?” His voice dropped low as he walked slowly toward the center of the dance floor, taking Suzie with him as he stopped behind Damien’s dying body. “I had time to think about how I’d kill
Olivia and Doug countered Brutus’s movements, keeping a safe distance but keeping him in their sights.
“Your father isn’t going to be happy with you, Brutus,” Olivia said as calmly as possible. “I’ll bet he’ll give me a flipping medal for dusting your sorry ass.”
“Are you kidding?” Brutus laughed, and his long brown hair fell across his forehead. “He’s been bored as hell, and I finally livened things up.” He smacked Suzie on the ass, and she winced. “She interrupted me, lover.
