Out of the Night (35 page)

"When he couldn't get what he wanted by working inside the system, he decided to work outside of it," Dirk added. "I would imagine that he's tired of doing it piecemeal and is going straight for the brass ring." "But the President? Why go after him?" "Because he can," Dirk said. "He has the abilities." "Think what would happen to our country if the President was shot at his private retreat," Mac continued. "No one would feel safe anymore. Plus, rumors are that the Vice President's health isn't good. He has a weak heart. If they assassinate the President, then the strain of taking over could kill the Vice President as well, thus taking out the top two levels of leadership and placing the U.S. in an extremely vulnerable state. Which of our enemies wouldn't pay a fortune for that to happen?"

What they said made sense. "We have to stop him." "
We
will," Mac said firmly. "
You
will stay out of it."

Thirty minutes later, Lanie sat listening to her father describing, again, everything he'd overheard Lance planning. This time, Uncle Charles was there to hear it.

He'd come as soon as Mac had phoned him. When he first arrived, Lanie had expected to see a heartfelt reunion between him and her father, but Charles had acted wary, making her father shift nervously under his close scrutiny. After several tense moments of uncomfortable silence, her father had tentatively held out his hand to congratulate his old friend—something about a family legacy and understanding what it meant—and that seemed to ease the tension on both sides.

Then they'd all sat down to listen to what her father had to say. When he finished, the admiral, Mac, and Dirk retired to Mac's room to figure out their next course of action, leaving Lanie and her father alone. It was the first time she'd had to really focus on him; his death and current state weighed heavily on her mind.

"What's it like to be… ?" She wasn't sure how to put it, but her father seemed to know what she meant.

"Undead?"

She smiled. "Yeah."

"Well, the speed and strength are nice." He chuckled. "I was never particularly strong or athletic growing up, so it's a nice change."

"What about the blood?"

He shrugged. "The blood doesn't bother me. It's what I need now to survive. My body craves it." His tone, which had been analytical and light, grew serious. "I don't like killing to get the blood, and to the extent that I don't have to, I won't. What worries me is that, each day, the thought of killing grows less daunting. It's like being a member of the undead somehow affected my soul—my ability to respect life and the living. I'm afraid that one night I'll rise and be the monster in the horror stories, unable to remember what it was like to have a conscience. I can easily see where someone of, let's say, questionable moral fiber would become a real threat if ever he, or she, were to become a vampire."

His words chilled her. "You mean someone like Lance Burton."

"Yes, exactly. I hope they're able to stop him," he said, nodding to the other room. He stood then and pulled her to her feet, enfolding her in his arms. "I have missed you so much these last several months."

"I missed you, too." She hugged him close. "When they told me you were dead, I—" Her voice cracked. "I'm so sorry for not spending more time with you."

"Hush, child. There is no need for regrets. I couldn't have asked for a finer daughter. While this is a strange existence to be sure, it is not horrible—yet. However, I find the lure of human blood a temptation that wears on me, and I'm afraid that sooner or later, I will slip and become a danger to those around me—even you. So, I've decided to remove myself before anything like that happens."

Lanie gasped, looking up at him. "You're not thinking about killing yourself, are you?"

"You mean, permanently?" He gave her a sad smile, but shook his head. "I haven't the courage, but I won't stay here."

"Where will you go?"

"I think back to the Amazon. I want to find Guberstein's village. It would be the find of a lifetime."

"But no one knows where it is. You could be in the jungle for years, looking, and never find it."

"Then it's a good thing I'm immortal."

She tried to smile at his joke, but it was too hard. He was leaving, and she'd never see him again, unless… "I'll go with you."

He rested his cheek on her head. "No. I think not. You're still human, and it wouldn't be safe. Besides, unless I'm mistaken, I think your young man might want you to stay."

Her young man
. As far as she knew, Mac still blamed her for the accident that changed him into something he hated. Their lovemaking had been about a warm body in the right place at the right time. Nothing more—at least, not to Mac. Sooner or later, she would return to Houston, alone, having lost the two men she loved most dearly in life.

It was the first time she'd allowed herself to form the thought, but once it was there, she knew it to be true. She loved Mac. The realization made anticipating the future without him that much harder.

"I have to go." Her father's voice broke into her thoughts. He released her and turned to where the baby chupacabra rested on the bed. He lifted the creature into his arms and held her, stroking her head and neck with great affection. "I want you to take care of Gem for me," he told Lanie. "I'm not as talented at evading Lance and his men as they are at tracking. If he wants Gem, she's safer with you and Mac than with me."

Lanie reached out and stroked the little chupacabra's neck. "Will you be in touch?"

"If I can, I'll contact you—I promise. There are a couple more things—before the others come back." He put the chupacabra back on the bed and retrieved his backpack from the floor. From inside, he pulled out several bags of blood and set them on the small desk. "Dog's blood, for Gem." Then he took out a small bundle of cloth, which he handed to her. "This is for you."

"What is it?" She took it from him and unwrapped the cloth to find a small glass vial and a syringe, like the kind used by diabetics.

"Venom and antiserum." He held up the vial of colorless liquid. "This is the last vial of real chupacabra venom. I took it from the adult a few days ago. As I'm sure you're aware, there are some remarkable healing powers in this venom—if we could just figure out how to re-create and harness them. To do that, though, you'll need to find a reputable biochemist with a good lab. But be warned, Lance has two vials that he intends to use, I'm sure, to create new recruits."

She nodded as he placed it back in her palm and picked up the syringe filled with amber liquid. "This is the antiserum. It attacks and destroys all the cells containing venom—in essence, killing the host. I had an opportunity to test it. It's painful, fast—and lethal to vampires."

Lanie thought back to the body they found, horribly distorted, at the abandoned apartment building. "Kinsley," Lanie said softly.

Her father nodded. "It's not something I'm happy about, but it needed to be tested." He paused and gave her a significant look. "I think it will work equally well on changelings, should you find you have the need."

"Changelings?" It wasn't an expression she was familiar with, but when her father looked pointedly toward the connecting door, she understood. "Oh, I don't think—"

Her father closed her fingers around the syringe and vial before covering her fist with his hand. "Just in case you need it, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay." Rewrapping the package, she tucked it into the middle of her duffel bag. She turned around, and the expression on her father's face told her their time together was at an end. He gathered her into his arms once more and hugged her, placing a kiss on her head. "It's not good-bye, Lanie, my sweet. More like see you later. I'll contact you as soon as I can, but until then, you be careful, okay?"

She nodded into his chest, the tears she'd held off so long now flowing freely down her cheeks. "I love you, Dad."

"As I love you." His arms tightened around her briefly. "Tell Charles that I said… see you later." Then he was gone and she was alone in the room.

"How do you know they won't attack tonight?" Lanie asked an hour or so later, sitting at the foot of the bed in Mac's room. The admiral had left, and she and Mac were waiting for Dirk to return from running several errands.

"Mainly because the President isn't due to arrive at Camp David until tomorrow night," Mac said in a clipped tone from where he sat by the desk.

Now that they were alone, she was disappointed that he'd made no move to recapture their earlier closeness. She tried not to dwell on it, though, because she knew he had other things on his mind.

"I thought the newscaster on TV said he was already there."

Mac shot her a look and she instantly felt foolish. It hadn't occurred to her that the media might be fed misinformation.

"So what's the plan?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"Admiral Winslow will call in a few favors and get a warning to the Secret Service about this potential threat We're not telling the FBI, or any other agencies, because we don't want the whole world to know that vampires exist.
We'll have to deal with it quietly. In about six hours, after we've had some sleep, Dirk and I will fly to Camp David, where we'll meet with the Secret Service and offer our assistance. By my estimate, we should arrive an hour before sunset with enough time to set up. I don't think Burton will do anything before then."

"What can I do to help?"

Mac's jaw tightened as he gave her his full attention, his expression unreadable. "Go home."

His words cut like a knife, and she couldn't help staring at him, her face slack with surprise. "I… I don't want to go. I want to stay here."
With you
. She sounded pathetic, but didn't care.

"You got to see and talk to your father, so you have no reason to stay."

She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up his hand to silence her. "Let me be blunt. I don't want you to wait for me, Lanie. For God's sake, just go home."

She felt numb from head to toe.
Go home? But I love you
, she wanted to scream, but the words remained unspoken.

Finally, she found a shred of dignity. Pushing herself off the bed, she went back to her room. Every part of her wanted to slam the connecting door as hard as she could and scream at the top of her lungs, but she wouldn't give in to it. Instead, she grabbed her duffel bag and tossed it, perhaps too forcefully, onto the bed. She fumbled for the zipper, hurt and anger nearly blinding her.

"Lanie," Mac's deep voice rumbled from the connecting doorway. "I'm sorry if I…" He paused and panic filled her.

Oh, God. Don't let him apologize for not loving me
. "No, you're absolutely right. It wouldn't have worked out." She kept her attention focused on packing. "Besides, I need to get back to Houston. I have"—
no one
—"people waiting for me."

She shut up, at risk of rambling to fill an otherwise awkward silence. Without looking at him, she crossed to the dresser, where she took her dirty laundry from the drawer and dumped it on the bed.

"Lanie, I—" At that moment there was a knock on the door, and Mac went into his room to open it.

With quick, angry movements, Lanie folded a dirty shirt and stuffed it into the bag, hearing Dirk's voice from the other room. There was a brief exchange of words, too soft for Lanie to catch, and then Dirk came bustling through the connecting doors, hauling a small dog carrier with him.

"I brought you a present," he told her, stopping short when he saw the open duffel bag. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Home—apparently." She muttered the last word under her breath.

Dirk's surprise seemed genuine, and she felt better knowing that the two men had not conspired against her. Dirk wasn't stupid, though, and after a quick glance back at Mac, he seemed to understand. "When do you leave?"

"I don't know. I haven't—"

"You're on the one o'clock flight."

She waved a hand at Mac but addressed Dirk. "Well, there you go. I'm on the one o'clock flight." She gave him a too-bright smile, then pinned Mac with an accusing glare before wadding a pair of pants into a ball and shoving them inside the bag.

She was as mad at herself as she was at Mac.
Love
, she scoffed. Who was she kidding? Love happened in fairy tales; it wasn't real. Oh, but the pain of it was, she thought, knowing that somehow, she'd have to get over this and move on with her life.

If only it was that easy.

She saw Dirk glance back and forth between her and Mac before setting the small carrier on the floor by the dresser. "I thought this carrier would make a nice bed for Gem," he said. "I guess it'll make a good travel carrier as well."

"Thank you." She gave him a grateful smile and then crossed to the closet, ignoring Mac, who stood watching her from the open doorway. There weren't many clothes hanging up, so fortunately she was able to grab them all. As she started back to the bed, she noticed one of the items in her hand was the dress from the night of the reception. She pulled it out from the other clothes and held it up. She loved the dress, but there was no way she could ever wear it again and not be reminded of Mac. She gave him a pointed look and, very purposefully, walked back to the closet and hung it up.

She resumed her packing, ignoring the two men, doing her best to look busy. Luckily, they returned to Mac's room just as she ran out of things to pack.

Lanie didn't even try to listen in. Instead, she plopped herself down beside the duffel bag and took a deep breath. At some point, as she sat there, the hotel staff came to replace the door. They went about it as if it were no more unusual than bringing fresh towels. Lanie thought that might have something to do with the admiral's sizable financial contribution.

By the time the hotel staff left, her anger had worn off, leaving only hurt in its wake. A small gurgling sound caught her attention, and she looked around to see the small chupacabra amble over to her.

"Hey, girl," she said softly, rubbing the smooth, hairless hide of Gem's neck. "You know what it's like to lose a loved one, don't you?" She thought of the adult creature, by itself, alone and dying. "I guess it's just you and me from now on." She tried to look at Gem objectively. "I don't suppose my neighbors will believe me if I tell them you're a new breed of South American kangaroo?" Maybe she should consider moving out to the country, she thought.