Out of the Night (34 page)

Mac didn't lower his gun. He believed in honesty and integrity, but over the years, he'd developed serious trust issues. "Why did you come?"

"I came to see my daughter."

Mac shook his head. He wasn't buying it. "Try again, and if you lie, I'm going to shoot you—not once, but as many times as I have live rounds. Past experience tells me I'll only need eight."

The professor's already pale complexion grew more so. Mac didn't think this man of science was used to such displays of violence—although the last week had probably given him a good introduction. "I did come to see my daughter, but I knew you'd be here. I know you're after Lance—and me," he quickly added when Mac gave him a pointed look. "I came to offer a trade—my life for information about Lance and his plans."

"Why should I trust you?" Mac asked.

"Because I have nothing to gain and everything to lose if Lance survives. I don't know what he was like when he was alive, but now he's psychotic—and if he gets a chance, he'll kill me."

"Why?"

"I was developing a synthetic venom for him because he was killing the adult chupacabra with his constant abuse. They don't attack humans by choice—only out of fear or when forced."

Mac nodded, remembering the war of emotions he'd picked up between the creature and Burton at Harris's house.

"The adult was dying. I wanted to get her away from Burton so she could find a quiet place to pass. I had a plan."

Mac was curious. "What was it?"

"I tranquilized her so that when the sun went down, she was slower to come to life. When Burton found her, she was still stone, and I told him that she'd died. He didn't stop to question it." The professor paused, and Mac noticed a frown crease his forehead.

"But something went wrong?"

The question seemed to startle the older man. "Yes. I had to leave the adult alone for a while. I'd hoped she'd be safe if everyone thought she was dead. I was going to take her out into the country, where she could pass in peace, but when I got back to my lab—she wasn't there.

"At first, I thought Lance had done something with her, but later, when he came into the lab, he wanted to know what I'd done with the body." The professor took a deep breath. "I told him that I had disposed of it, but the truth is—I don't know where she went. I'm almost positive that she wandered off on her own to die, so in the end, I guess it's all the same.

"Anyway, I knew if I stayed around, Lance would demand I make more of the venom so he could continue to convert his former unit members into vampires. With me gone, he's limited to the two vials he has—no more."

"Those two vials and anyone he feeds off of," Mac pointed out.

The professor looked surprised. "The people we kill when we feed rise up as vampires?"

Mac and Dirk exchanged stunned looks. "Didn't you know?"

"No, I'm afraid I didn't. I thought it might be possible, but I never had the opportunity to experiment."

"One of those researchers you killed rose up, and though it was difficult to tell at the time, Lanie thinks that he might have been more monster than human, so to speak."

"Well, yes. That makes sense," the professor continued analytically. "Second-generation effect. The venom probably loses something each time it gets passed on. Oh, dear." His eyes took on a distant look. "I wonder…"

"What?"

"Lance took up the practice of forcing the adult to feed from him every night. With each new infusion of venom, he grew stronger. Any vampire he created now…"

He left the sentence hanging, and Mac didn't like the implications. "How many has he killed himself?"

"I don't know. There were the homeless men when we first arrived. Hector had just awakened and needed to feed, although I think Lance killed at least one of them himself."

"I staked them," Mac said.

"Oh. Good. We started collecting blood from the homeless after that, rather than kill them. It became our primary food source. Lance ordered all of us to drink exclusively from the bags, but he'd go off on his own at night, disappearing for hours. I have no idea what he did during those times."

Great
, Mac thought. They'd have to watch the news for stories of strange deaths—at least for a few days. He looked over at Dirk and caught his eye. He raised the jeans in his hand and waited for Dirk's nod. Without taking his attention off the professor, Mac stepped back and set his gun on the desk while he pulled on his jeans. Once dressed, he breathed easier. Picking up his gun again, he addressed the older man. "You said you had some information?"

"Yes." The professor looked at the desk chair just past Mac. "Would you mind if I sat down? This pack can get heavy after a while."

Mac nodded, backing away to allow the professor room to walk. As he passed by him, Mac noticed movement in the backpack.

"What's in there?" He was instantly alert.

"Nothing dangerous," the professor hurried to assure him. He slipped the pack from his shoulders and lowered it gently to the floor. "This is Gem, the baby chupacabra," he explained, unzipping the top and reaching in.

Dirk hurried across the room to stand beside Mac.

"She won't hurt you," the professor said when he noticed that neither of them had relaxed their stance.

"You'll have to forgive us if we seem doubtful," Mac said. "Our experience with chupacabras hasn't been good."

At that announcement, the professor's head snapped up and he studied them both carefully. "Really?"

"Yes, we both had run-ins with the adult."

"You were both attacked?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "That explains it."

"Explains what?" Dirk asked.

"Why I can feel your thoughts and emotions through the link—we were all created by the same creature. Although," he added ruefully, "I misinterpreted that last burst of emotion I picked up from you."

Mac knew he had to be referring to the moment when Mac had bitten Lanie, but he wasn't about to explain it to her father. "There is one difference between us," he pointed out. "We were attacked, but never actually died."

The professor looked confused. "But I saw you in the alley where those three men jumped you. I saw your speed and strength; your eyes and fangs." His eyes took on an unnatural red glow. "The thought of those men attacking my daughter made me so mad, I wanted to feel their flesh against my mouth, tear out their throats, and drink their worthless blood until I'd consumed every drop. And if I couldn't do it myself, I was glad to have you do it for me."

Mac felt a moment's confusion. Those had been his exact thoughts and feelings that night. Or had they? Was it possible that the professor, much in the same way Burton had controlled the chupacabra, had transmitted his emotions to Mac? It seemed more than likely, and a weight lifted from him. Perhaps he wasn't a monster.

"If you're not vampires," the professor began, interrupting Mac's thoughts, "then that would make you—?" He paused as his eyes took on a gleam of excitement. "So the legends are true. Does Charles know?"

"About us?" Mac nodded. "Yes—and he knows about you as well."

Just then the creature, no doubt tired of being ignored, pushed up against the professor's hand. As he lifted it out of the backpack, Mac got his first look at the baby chupacabra. It reminded him of the statue sitting on his sister's desk back home—only larger. She called it a Desk Guardian, in the form of a ceramic gargoyle.

Thinking of Sandra, he reminded himself to call her and let her know he was all right—and prayed that it wasn't a lie.

The professor sat on the desk chair and the baby jumped up to land on his shoulder, where it sort of hunkered down and perched. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, looking at both Mac and Dirk, "I'd really like to know more about your attacks and how the changes came about."

Mac and Dirk exchanged looks and shrugged. Neither could see the harm in telling him, so they each described their attacks. His interest seemed to be more scientific than anything else.

Finally, Lanie appeared in the doorway between the two rooms. Her hair was damp, but Mac thought she had never looked more beautiful to him. He quickly had to rein in thoughts of shared showers before he became too distracted to pay attention to her father. Even now, Mac felt Weber's eyes on him and when he glanced at the man, he saw a father's concern for his daughter.

Just then, Lanie caught sight of the small chupacabra and gave a cry of delight as she reached out to stroke the small creature's head, as her father had done moments earlier.

"Her name is Gem," he told her. "Isn't she something?"

Lanie looked up and Mac saw the smile that passed between father and daughter. There was such warmth in it that he felt an unfamiliar pang of jealousy. When Lanie turned and shared that smile with him, the resulting jolt of surprise and joy caught him off guard. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd reached out to scratch the creature's head.

For several minutes, Mac stood by and watched as Lanie acquainted herself with Gem. The professor told her all about the creature's feeding habits and needs. It was as if he was leaving his pet with her while he went on vacation and it occurred to Mac that, perhaps, he was doing exactly that.

"Professor Weber, you said you were interested in a trade?"

The professor's face grew somber, and he gave Mac a solemn look. "I overheard Lance talking to the other, uh, men last night. He said he'd talked to his contact, and funds had been transferred to his account."

Beside him, Dirk swore. The news wasn't entirely surprising. Last year's ambush had no doubt been funded by the same contact for the same purpose—Lance's greed.

"I don't suppose you know what their plans are?"

The professor nodded. "They're going to Camp David. They talked about how easy it would be for them to slip past all the security."

Mac and Dirk exchanged looks. Things had just taken a serious turn for the worse. Mac had no doubt that Burton and his special-ops team of vampires would do just as they boasted. They probably could slip right past security—elusive shadows, undetectable and deadly.

"Who's the target?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"The President of the United States."

Lanie gasped and felt her world tilt off kilter a little more. Chupacabras, vampires, and now possible terrorist actions? Her life used to be so safe, stable, and uneventful. What was running into a burning building compared to all this?
Boring
. "I don't understand," she heard herself saying. "Why would he go after the President?"

The three men looked at her with similar expressions, making her think the answer was obvious but she was too dense to figure it out. Then they all answered at once.

"Power."

"Greed."

"Money."

"But he's a vampire," she protested. What did the undead need with any of those things?

"Being dead didn't change him. Burton has always been the type of person who's never satisfied," Mac explained. "He constantly wanted more, whether he deserved it or not. That's a good part of why he never succeeded in the military. It was all about him, not what was good for the unit or the country."