Out of the Night (25 page)

Slowly, she laid her hand on Mac's arm, hoping her touch would help him focus on her and not on his desire to attack the men. "Please, Mac. Let them go." When he didn't respond, she tried another approach. "I want to go home, now. Please take me home."

As if he were trying to wake from a powerful dream, he turned to look at her. She offered him a small smile and watched the light in his eyes fade and his lips relax until the fangs were, once again, covered. "Can we go now?" She gave a small tug on his arm, and he gradually lowered the men until their feet touched the ground. She didn't try to remove his hand from the front of the men's shirts, but waited for him to do it. When he did, she let her hand slide down his arm until she could lace her fingers through his.

"Get out of here," she ordered the two men, her tone brusque. "And take your friend with you."

They didn't wait to be told twice, but bent over to grab their still-unconscious friend under the arms and haul him away. Lanie didn't give them another look. She had achieved her goal and prevented Mac from killing the three men, but now grew concerned for her own safety. Mac seemed barely under control to her.

She gave his hand a gentle tug to get him walking beside her, but didn't let go of him, praying she was doing the right thing. They reached the hotel without further incident, despite the fact Lanie couldn't shake the feeling that they were being followed. She was glad when they finally stepped into the lobby.

Once inside her room, Mac let go of Lanie's hand and silently headed for his own side. He was back to normal, as far as she could tell, but very subdued.

"Want to talk about it?" she offered, following him to the connecting doors.

Mac stared at her. "Were you a psych major in college? No. I don't want to talk about it." He knew he was being rude, but at the moment, he didn't care. He wanted her to leave him alone.

"Fine," she snapped, stepping back through the doors, mumbling under her bream. "Good night."

He saw the connecting door slam shut, heard and felt the impact of it hitting, and knew he should follow her to apologize, but Christ, he couldn't deal with it right now. He had to sort out what had happened tonight.

Lanie had been right to interfere, and he was grateful that she'd been able to stop him. It meant there was still a shred of humanity left in him, albeit a tiny shred, because he'd enjoyed fighting those men, and there at the end, he'd had every intention of killing them. He'd actually meant to pierce their necks with his fangs and draw blood. And the real horror was that he would have drunk their blood until he'd had his fill, and he would have enjoyed it.

Clint stood outside the hotel feeling lost—and amazed. The minute he'd felt the strange presence coming through the link he shared with Lance, he'd thought it might have been Hector, whom he hadn't seen since nightfall. As the presence grew stronger, however, he knew it was one he'd not felt before and he'd quickly packed up everything, sent the homeless away, and left the building, slipping outside to lurk in the deepest shadows, hoping to get a glimpse of this unknown intruder.

That's when he'd seen Lanie, waiting in the darkened entryway. He hadn't expected to see her again—much less here in Washington, D.C.

Drawn to her, he'd moved closer and then quickly left, moving with such speed that he would appear as little more than a shadow to her. He should have gone back to the lair, but he'd not wanted to leave her so soon, content with simply watching her.

He'd been surprised when the door to the mission opened and the man who'd confronted them in Taribu stepped out. Even more amazing was watching his daughter run straight into this man's arms. She obviously cared about him, and Clint felt the familiar weight of fatherly concern.

Curious, he'd followed them. When the street punks attacked them, Clint had moved closer, driven by a primitive urge to destroy the threat to his daughter. Then he discovered that his help was not needed. The young man with his daughter had reacted with surprising speed and strength in dealing with the attackers, and Clint would have left to return to his lair, reassured that his daughter was in good hands, had he not, at that moment, caught sight of the young man's fangs and glowing red eyes.

He was a vampire!

Instinctively, Clint had rushed forward to once again protect his daughter, but was brought short a second time when he saw her place a hand on the man's arm. Over the distance, he heard her gentle urgings and was further amazed when the man complied.

Filled with questions and concerns, he'd followed them all the way to the hotel where he presumed they were staying and stood there now, gazing at it, lost in a mire of speculation and unanswered questions. Finally, knowing that dawn lay not far off, he turned and left, carrying his bags of blood and the weight of his concerns.

When he reached the old building where he and the others were staying, he found Lance ranting about an incident that had occurred earlier that night when he'd gone to collect his latest recruits—Smith and Harris. Making matters worse, there appeared to be dissension among the newly arisen troops.

"I don't think we owe you shit," the man named Kinsley was shouting when Clint slipped into the lair. "I don't remember asking you to kill me."

"You'll do as I order," Lance bit out.

"Fuck you—you're not my commanding officer anymore, Burton. Get over it."

Lance said something more, but Clint didn't pay much attention as he moved through the lair to where the adult chupa rested. When he walked in, she didn't even lift an eyelid and his concern grew. He placed the backpack on the floor as Gem jumped onto his shoulder and greeted him.

"How are you, girl?" He gave her an affectionate pat and then set her on the floor where she went to squat beside the adult "I'm going to help you," he promised the adult chupa, stroking her head and letting his hands trail along the huge fins on her back.

Getting up, he grabbed the backpack and pulled out two bags of dog's blood. He gave one to Gem and watched as she set to work, piercing the bag with her teeth. As she ate, he held the bag in front of the adult, who finally opened her eyes. He used his own teeth to pierce the bag, then held it so the adult's tongue could suck up the blood.

When both had fed, he lay down beside them, the seeds of a plan germinating in his head. The sound of the men arguing floated to him, and he knew Lance was too preoccupied with his recruits to notice Clint's thoughts coming through the psychic link. Clint smiled to himself. It was an oversight that Lance would soon regret.

Aloud, piercing noise jerked Lanie rudely from sleep. Her heart racing, she reached blindly for the alarm and struggled to figure out how to turn it off, but the noise continued to blare, loud and irritating. On the verge of ripping the cord from the wall, she finally found the right button and blessed silence filled the room.

She fell back against the pillows, trying to remember why she'd set the alarm to go off so early. Then she remembered her plan to see Uncle Charles and forced her eyes back open. Getting out of bed would be tough, so she pulled back the covers and practically fell out, knowing that if she didn't, she might not wake up again until much later.

Stumbling across the room to her purse, she searched the contents until she found his phone number and placed her call. Within a few minutes, she had him on the phone.

"Lanie, my dear, how are you? Is everything all right?"

"Actually, Uncle Charles, things aren't all right. Is there any chance you could meet with me today? I'd like to talk to you."

"Of course. Let's see, it's almost sixteen hundred hours—how about meeting over dinner?"

"That would be great."

"Perfect. Shall I pick you up in, say, thirty minutes?"

She gave him the address, hung up the phone, and quickly showered and dressed. Thirty minutes later she was downstairs waiting for him when he pulled up, driving a gold-tone Humvee. She climbed in, appreciating the spaciousness of the vehicle, and exchanged polite, casual conversation with him as they drove to the restaurant Several times when she looked at him, she was struck by his ageless appearance. She thought he must be in his late fifties, although he could easily pass for a man ten years younger. He reminded her of Sean Connery, both in looks and manner, and she wondered again why he'd never married. He was a very attractive man.

When they reached the restaurant, she discovered that he'd called ahead and a table had been prepared for them. He held me chair for her as she sat and then summoned the waiter over before taking his own seat.

"Lanie, what would you like to drink? Something stronger than tea, perhaps? No? Make that two." He dismissed the waiter, who rushed off to fill their order, and then politely waited for her to tell him what was wrong.

"I'm not sure how to begin," she said. "What I have to tell you seems so unbelievable, even to me, but it's very, very real."

"Try me. You'll find I'm more receptive than you think—after all, Clint and I were friends for a long time and shared many common interests."

It was true, but still she hesitated. "But this has to do with…"

"El Chupacabra?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "You knew?"

"Why do you think I called your father in the first place? Though no one else in the military recognized what we'd found in the jungle, I did. And I knew how hard Clint had worked to prove they existed. I thought he deserved to be the one to study them." He grew silent as he glanced down at his napkin. "I wish I'd known how dangerous they could be."

She reached out a hand to touch his. "Because of you, he got the chance of a lifetime. His death wasn't your fault." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was time to tell him everything. "In fact, he's not really dead, exactly. More like he's undead." If she hadn't known him so well, she never would have noticed the slight widening of his eyes betraying his surprise. She rushed to get the rest of it out before she lost her nerve. "Please hear me out. I'm sure my father mentioned the possible connection between the chupacabra and the vampire?" He nodded, and she felt a moment of hope. "Well, that connection is real. When the chupacabra killed Dad and Lance, it converted them into vampires. I think it has something to do with the venom they secrete when they drink the victim's blood. It doesn't seem to have an effect on most animals. Once dead, they stay dead. But on humans… they come back to life."