Nightshades (12 page)

“A dentist’s chair?” Alex repeated, giving Ruiz an appraising look. They were in his office, with Chase at his elbow. “Even dental clinics must have some kind of security. And where are they taking the kids during the day?”

Ruiz gestured to Hadley, who stepped forward and laid several Google Earth printouts in front of him. “Sir, we found an abandoned private dental clinic just outside of Heavenly. Closed two years ago due to a malpractice suit. This is where we think they are.”

Alex looked from one to the other, impressed. “Let me make a call,” he said finally.

Deputy Director Harding pulled strings to get them immediate access to one of the Bureau’s satellite feeds. Ten minutes after
that
, Bureau technicians had confirmed the presence of nine warm bodies—the surviving teenagers, most likely, and a human they didn’t know about—and more movement just outside: the shades, loading things into enormous moving vans. Their body temperatures weren’t high enough to register on thermal, but Lindy’s hunch had been correct: they were packing up.

When Alex hung up the phone, he ordered Palmer to get their team mobilized. Then he turned to Chase. His friend wrinkled his nose in annoyance. “Shit, Alex, you know I hate that look.”

“Protocol would have me send you, while I stay here,” Alex began. “We’re reversing it. You’re in charge here. I’m going with the extraction team.”

Chase shook his head. “No way, man. You can’t play cowboy anymore. You wanted to be the SAC, and you’re good at it. I’m going.”

“No, you’re not.” Alex gestured around the office. “I’m good at action, Chase. Making things move. But there’s a solid chance that this isn’t going to work, and then this team is going to need a strategist. That’s you.”

“Bullshit. This is your plan, and you think responsibility means going down with the ship. It’s a romantic idea, but this is the twenty-first-century FBI, Alex. We have a chain of command for a reason.”

Alex’s face hardened. “Do I need to remind you that we’re not exactly playing by Bureau rules these days? The BPI is new, and it does things differently. That fluidity exists for a reason.”

Chase opened his mouth to protest again, but Alex overrode him. “This isn’t a debate, Agent Eddy. You’re in charge here; I’m going with the team.”

Chase glared. “You’re pulling rank on me?”

Alex tasted sourness, but he had already committed. “Yeah. That’s an order.”

“Fine,” Chase snapped. “Have it your way. But by God, Alex, you better not be doing this to us over a goddamned girl.”

He stalked out of the office.

Alex’s team nearly broke the sound barrier on the way south, arriving in less than twenty minutes, at three thirty in the morning. One SUV did a quick drive-by: The shades had stopped loading, but the moving van was still sitting there. The building appeared to be completely dark from the road, but when they parked a block ahead and snuck back, Alex could make out snatches of light filtering through the blinds. They were in the right place.

The building had three entrances: a front door, a back door, and a large side door that had been used for large deliveries when the dental office was operational. This was where the shades’ truck was parked. “How do you want to do this, boss?” asked Hadley, who sat in the passenger seat next to Alex. There were two more agents behind them, and fourteen total in the trailing SUVs. Everyone was waiting on Alex’s order before they went in.

Alex considered it. He was still feeling a little out of sorts after the argument with Chase, but he told himself it was time to get his head in the game, or he’d have more than hurt feelings to worry about. The research team had dug up the building’s blueprints, but they still didn’t know where any of the shades were within the building. If they went in right now, with no other intelligence, there was nothing to stop Hector and his people from killing the teenagers on the spot.

There was also the problem of weapons. They’d brought guns, Tasers, and even a few KA-BAR knives, which weren’t exactly protocol. The problem was that almost none of it had been tested against shades before. They still knew so little about their physiology.

It made Alex wary of just storming all the entrances. He remembered the package in the backseat, still in the box labeled “Cat Treats.” He thought of the way Giselle had called Lindy “princess,” and how Lindy had never once demonstrated the least bit of physical fear. If she was who he thought she was . . . maybe they didn’t need to storm the place.

He grabbed the walkie-talkie and the building plans. “We’re gonna flush them out. I want three people on each exit, waiting outside to stop the shades as they come running out. Remember: They’re faster than us, so keep them as far from your person as you can. Taser on sight, then arrest them if they go willingly: secure with plastic zip ties and hoods.” Gil Palmer relayed the command to his agents, dividing out the door assignments. When the line went silent again, Alex added, “The rest of you are with me. We’re going in the side entrance, with two priorities: secure the kids and free Lindy. I have a feeling if we can get her loose, she’ll do a lot of our work for us.”

“Yes, sir.” Beside him, Hadley raised an eyebrow. “Any final advice on how to hurt them, sir?”

“We know they need blood, so try to force them to lose as much as possible, as fast as possible,” Alex told her. “And if you can detach the head from the body, I’m pretty sure it’s game over.”

Hadley nodded, her expression unreadable. When this was over, Alex thought, he was really going to need to get to know his team better. “Everyone geared up?” he said into the walkie-talkie. The people in his vehicle nodded, holding up their helmets. The night was warm, but every man and woman under his command wore turtlenecks, gloves, and long plexiglass visors that went down past their chins. He’d learned his lesson about shade saliva with Ruiz. “Let’s go.”

It was somewhat pathetic, Lindy thought, that after all her years of life, all the wars and tragedies and accidents she’d seen, her own downfall would come at the hands of a few strips of plastic.

Wiggle and pull as she might, she couldn’t get even a single limb free of the fucking zip ties. Out of desperation, she even tried to slide her arm out by letting her skin tear off, hoping it would have time to heal before anyone realized what she’d done, but the moment she began, the scent of her blood brought two of Hector’s minions running. They’d tightened all the remaining straps and even added on a few more.

After awhile, even Lindy had to admit that she was just fucking stuck.

She settled back to wait, listening hard to glean information. From elsewhere in the building, she could hear several people crying—probably the teenagers. There was an occasional scream, and some begging: “Please, I want my mom, please . . .”

Hearing this, Lindy’s eyes burned with angry tears. She knew that this was all part of Hector’s plan: he could have easily mesmerized the kids to stay calm and quiet, but he wanted to let Lindy stew, let her listen, let her get upset. It would make her off balance, emotional—and Hector
loved
when she got emotional. Classic male mentality, and classic Hector. It was actually sort of comforting to realize his patterns of behavior hadn’t changed in fifteen hundred years.

Thinking about patterns of behavior actually gave Lindy an idea, though. She renewed her escape efforts, but stopped focusing on getting past the zip ties and turned her attention to the chair itself. Underneath the padding, the construction was solid: made of some kind of heavy metal that didn’t even rattle when she shook her left arm or her legs. The right arm of the chair, however, had a little give to it. Lindy smiled.

Slowly, as quietly as possible, she applied pressure, first in one direction, then another. She didn’t feel a change at first, but then little by little, the bolts began to deform and loosen. Lindy could feel the metal flexing under the pressure, but there was no way to know how much farther it had to go before the arm of the chair would rip all the way off. Then she could—

With no warning, the door behind her slammed open again, and Lindy went still as Giselle sauntered into the room, a smug pout on her bloodred lips. Literally, there was blood on her mouth; she had just finished feeding, probably from one of the teenagers. She had changed into a black leather sheath dress that barely covered her ass, and her favorite weapon, the falchion, was strapped to one thigh. Her stringy pink and white hair was pulled back into a bun so messy it may as well have not existed. There was no sign of her facial injury. Lindy felt a little disappointed about that.

“Hey, Giselle, how’s your nose?” Lindy asked cheerfully.

The other woman’s smile was cruel. “It’s fantastic, thanks so much for asking.” She painstakingly wiped her lips with the tip of one finger. “Healing was a bitch, of course, but Hector let me have one of the children who wasn’t useful anymore. Just to be sure, I drank him all down.”

She tried to hide her fury, but Giselle saw it anyway and gave her a victorious smile. Lindy reminded herself that just as Giselle knew her pressure points, she knew Giselle’s. “So how
are
things going with you and my brother?” she asked, painting a bright smile on her face. Instantly, Giselle’s expression clouded over.

“It’s fantastic. Better than it’s ever been,” she said coolly. Then she climbed onto Lindy’s lap, straddling the much older shade and leaning forward so her ample breasts were in Lindy’s face. “Of course, there’s always room for improvement. Or for extra participants.”

Ew. “Grow up, Giselle.”

Giselle just gave her a wicked smile. “Oh, I did grow up, Sieglind. I’ve learned so much since Eradication.” She hopped off Lindy’s lap and drew the falchion, the metal singing as it came free. “Don’t worry; I’m going to show you.” Hitching her hip on the left side of Lindy’s chair, Giselle let the tip of the blade rest at the hollow of Lindy’s throat, savoring the moment. For Giselle, it had been a long time coming.

There was a crash from just outside the room, and men’s voices began shouting. Giselle’s triumphant smile flickered. She glanced toward the door, and Lindy saw the best chance she was going to get. With every bit of power available to her, Lindy wrenched her right forearm, making no attempt to be quiet or subtle. The metal caught, and then with a scream the entire arm of the reclining chair broke off.

Giselle tried to react, and up against a younger or less experienced shade her reflexes would have been enough to dodge. But Lindy was the second-oldest vampire on the planet, and she clubbed Giselle across the side of the head with the metal chunk hard enough to throw Giselle backward, dropping the blade.

Right in Lindy’s lap.

She grabbed the falchion, slicing her fingers a little, and managed to twist it in her wrist so she could force it across the zip ties on her left arm. The blade made a long, shallow cut as it went, but Lindy paid no attention. Giselle staggered up from the floor, leaning against the wall for balance.

“You
bitch,
” Giselle screamed, but Lindy ignored her. She was carefully cutting the looser zip ties holding her neck to the back of the chair. Giselle darted toward her, but Lindy reversed the falchion in her hand and managed to stab Giselle in the shoulder before the other shade lurched back again. Giselle let out a bellow of frustration, turned, and leapt through the window behind her.

The side door of the clinic led to a tiny hallway that opened straight into a large, relatively open room in the middle, where there had once been hygienists’ desks and file cabinets. This large space was surrounded by smaller chambers and hallways that the patients would have used for examinations. Alex had guessed that the shades were keeping the kids in the patient rooms and using the open space, which had the added benefit of no windows, for a makeshift lab. He’d been right about that, but by the time he and the six agents behind him entered the room, the shades had all heard and sensed them coming, and done the logical thing, from a tactical point of view: they’d cut the lights.

Alex skidded to a halt inside the tiny hallway, holding up a fist for the team to stop with him. Behind him, there was a little light from the street lamps. In front of him, the darkness was absolute. Alex was pretty sure if he’d taken two more steps into the room, the shades would have picked him off.

“Bureau of Preternatural Investigations,” he bellowed into the darkness. “You’re under arrest!”

No one flipped on the lights, but about eight feet to either side of him Alex heard low, insidious chuckles. That was enough for him. “Hadley, sticks,” he ordered, and behind him, Agent Hadley reached into a pocket and pulled out a handful of industrial-size glow sticks, breaking the wad of them with both fists. Alex sensed movement to his right as one of the shades darted forward to stop her. He reflexively fired a low burst that caused a high-pitched scream. Hadley threw the sticks, sending just enough light into the room for them to make out the figures advancing on them.

Alex started shooting, stepping forward into the room so the other agents could fan out a little and get clear shots. The noise from the weapons was deafening, but all around him, Alex could still hear muffled young voices crying for help with renewed vigor. They were in the patient rooms, just as he’d anticipated. Unfortunately, between their cries and the gunfire, he could no longer hear the shades.

One of them popped up just in front of him, and Alex and the agent at his shoulder—Simonson was his name—fired. The muzzle flash illuminated two other shades behind that one, and for a moment it was a shooting gallery. The shades seemed to race toward them in stop-motion speed, or like those old zoetropes. They were so fast, and the bullets flew so thickly, that Alex prayed the doors trapping the teenagers were strong. Then a shade leapt at him from above—
Christ, they could jump
—and Alex couldn’t get his sidearm up in time. The shade hit him with its full weight, slamming him into the floor.

He landed on his back with the shade scrabbling at his helmet, trying to get to his neck. Alex tried to bring up the gun but the shade—a male, bigger than him—slapped it out of his hand, where it went skittering into the darkness. Pinning him, the shade ripped off Alex’s visor and lowered his head—and then he was suddenly, simply, gone. Alex blinked and sat up. Just behind him, his team was crowded together, blocking the exit and trying to pick off shades. Hadley crouched and reached out a hand to help Alex up.