Tainted Blood (Hell's Belle Book 2) (23 page)

"I just didn't picture it, that's all," he said.

"Well they are, so they are probably holed up in Mexico doing couple things. And I really didn't want to think too much about that, alright?" I poured the blood out into the glass, popped it in the microwave and pressed a few buttons. I tossed the bag into the sink. "It's ready when the microwave beeps."

Frankie just stared at the microwave, clearly still appalled at the idea of having reheated, bagged blood.

"So who's running the ops?" Darcy asked.

"Well, obviously you're running the communications base, wherever we set that up."

The smell of irradiating blood filled the apartment. I opened a window to air it out.

"What about the farm house?" Max asked. "It's close to the Betas and it's secluded."

I shook my head. "No electricity."

"What about a generator?" Darcy asked.

"I can get one from the police department," Max offered.

"With the type of noise a generator makes, we're no longer stealth." I wasn't wild about a loud generator encouraging locals to come out and snoop. "The property has been abandoned for a long time. Someone's bound to notice if a generator kicks in all of a sudden."

The microwave beeped and Frankie gave me a funny look.

"Go on," I said. "Take it out. It won't hurt you."

"Nina, you've got so much land there, I bet no one noticed it's been sitting abandoned all these years," Frankie argued, gingerly removing the nuked blood from the microwave. "The location is ideal."

"She can run communications from the factory," I argued.

"It's always better if I am close," Darcy disagreed.

"It's decided, then," Max said, cutting me off before I could argue. "I'll pick up a generator on the way out there."

"Wait, who is running the field? Frankie?"

"That's really hot!" Frankie spit his sip of blood back into the mug.

"Blow on it first," I suggested.

"Blow on it? That's your answer?"

"You want an ice cube instead?" I countered.

He stared into the glass of blood with disgust. "Now that just sounds ghastly."

"So, then you agree to run the field?" Darcy asked Frankie pointedly.

"Absolutely not," Frankie responded, blowing gently on the rim of the cup. "I don't think I should lead this one. Not after what happened."

"I'll run it," Max said quickly.

"Wait. You'll run it?" I asked incredulously. Max had done all of one field op with us, at the Killing Haley concert. And that was a disaster. "You have zero experience, Max."

"Hold on. I run field ops all the time for the FBI," he said as he crossed his arms and stared me down. "I am no rookie."

"You are with Blood Ops," I said.

"What's the difference?" he countered.

"I don't know, Max. Supernatural creatures, maybe?"

"So who's going to run it? You?" he snorted. "After what happened at the concert? Way too dangerous."

"Too dangerous? No one saw demonic possession coming!" I argued.

"I don't want you leading this operation. You'll be right in the line of fire."

"Oh, Max," Darcy warned, "I don't think that is the line of argument you want to take."

"I am always in the line of fire!" I said through gritted teeth. "It's where I prefer to be!"

"This time it's different." Max's left eye started to twitch. He was getting worked up, but I wasn't ready to back off. "If something goes wrong, those vamps can kill you. And you won't come back from it."

Frankie physically braced himself for the force of my rage. "He has a point."

"We have the cure," I said, looking between the two of them.

"No. Nina. You have. The cure." Max was doing some weird yogic breathing, to keep calm.

"No one else can do the spell," Frankie agreed. "You need to lag behind until the last possible moment."

"What about this Jackson character? I'm taking him down. I won't get left out."

"After you cure the vampires, we chase Jackson down," Max said calmly. The yogic breathing was working.

"I'm coming along for that." I wanted to make sure we were clear on that point.

"Of course you are." Frankie took another swallow of the blood and made a face. "Good God, this is really—"

"Hi, it's Eva!" Eva popped her head in through the side door of the kitchen, interrupting Frankie before he could bitch any more. "And Al!"

Alfonso shuffled in behind her. "What the hell happened to the barroom door?"

"Someone kicked it in last night," I said.

I was relieved to see those two. I lost track of them after the helicopter dropped us all off at the Biltmore. "Where've you two been?"

"Holed up in Eva's crappy botanica." Alfonso shuddered. "I've seen enough plastic hippie witch shit to last me a lifetime. You got any whiskey, Nina?"

"Oh stop. You loved my tarot decks. You said they were magical," Eva said as she snaked her arm through his.

"I was flattering you, Eva. Trying to get a little nookie."

Well, at least he was honest.

"Oh, you didn't need to do that!" She batted her eyelashes. "You could have just asked!"

I didn't get this coupling. Really, I didn't.

I foraged through the lower kitchen cabinets and pulled out a bottle of Jameson's. Alfonso leaned in and pretended to check the label.

"She has a beautiful vampire deck," Alfonso said low. "You should check it when this crap is over." He gave me a nod and took the bottle. He helped himself to a Looney Tunes glass and poured out the whiskey.

Eva grabbed the glass from him and took a sip of the whiskey, handing it back before he could protest. She was something else. I'd never heard of a vampire tarot deck, and she had one that managed to impress an old, alcoholic witch.

"So, when do we go?" Alfonso asked as he knocked back the whiskey that remained in the glass.

"Whoa, no way," I said. "Too dangerous. You guys are staying here."

"The hell we are," Al was indignant. "What would have happened to you if we weren't at that crappy club?"

"We aren't facing demons this time," I said.

"You have no idea what you're facing," Al said gruffly. "Babe would kill me if I let you go in there without any sort of magic backup."

"But Al," I pleaded, "you and Eva—"

"Maybe Eva doesn't know what the hell she's doing," he said, cutting me off. "But I was a damn fine witch in my day. I'll allow I'm a little rusty..."

"And you’re a bit of a drinker, Al," Eva added as he poured out another measure of whiskey.

He harrumphed but didn't disagree. "The point is, the two of us together equal one pretty decent witch. We're going."

Max was leaning over Darcy's shoulder, intent on the map on her screen. "Eva and Al can sit at the end of the driveway and follow Jackson when he leaves the Beta's campsite. Then we can catch up. That way, it won't look like he has a tail. Do you have a car?" Max asked Alfonso.

He nodded. "We can take Eva's El Camino."

"Is it reliable?" Max's skepticism was showing.

"She don't look like much, but she purrs like a kitten."

Frankie looked at the clock on the microwave. "It's getting on. What time is this supposed to go down?"

"Jackson is coming by at midnight," Chuck said, glancing at his watch. "It's well past 6 o'clock now."

"I still have to pick up the generator. Darcy, do you need to get anything?

"I think we should use wireless pieces for you, Nina and Frankie," Darcy said. "You guys will be in the woods with the Betas, and just in case you're spotted, at least you won't be seen with a big-ass wired earpiece. That'll give something away."

"Good point," I said. "Did you bring those from the base?"

Darcy smiled. "Just unpacked them this afternoon. We'll have to swing by the factory to pick them up, along with the Falcon."

That stopped Max in his tracks. "You have a Falcon?"

Darcy nodded. "Falcon II."

Max whistled. "I forget you guys are DoD. You get the military grade stuff."

"We're
all
DoD," Darcy reminded him.

Did he still feel like he wasn't part of this racket?

"Right," he said, not terribly convincing.

"Sounds like we have a plan, sort of," Frankie said. "Should we give it a go?"

"Let's all meet at the factory in 45 minutes. That'll give me enough time to get the generator," Max said. "Chuck, you have a car here right?"

Chuck nodded.

"Then you take Frankie and Nina. Darcy can come with me in the Suburban. Al and Eva will be in the El Camino."

"I'm going with Darcy," Matty chimed in.

This didn't sit well with Max. "If anything happens to you, Tavio will kill us," he said.

"If not Tavio, definitely Bertrand," I added.

Matty gnashed his impotent fangs in anger. "I don't give a crap."

"As long as you're making Bertrand money, I bet
he
does," I said. "You are an unnecessary risk, Matty."

"I am not leaving Darcy in some freezing, abandoned farmhouse by herself." He stood up, puffing out his chest to appear larger. It didn't really work.

"That's sweet, Matty, but I can take care of myself," Darcy protested.

But Matty wasn't hearing it. "I can shoot a gun, you know. And I can handle a stake. Or at least, I'll try."

Frankie chuckled. "Let him tag along. If Darcy needs to wail to save both their asses, at least she won't kill him."

Max shrugged. "Your call, Matty."

"I'm going," Matty said, oblivious to Frankie's slight.

"Give me 10 minutes to change," I said to Chuck. "Then we'll head out."

"Wear all black," Max called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

"What else would I wear? Sequins?" I shouted back to him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I was up a tree. When Max said "tree cover," he left out that part.

In addition to the generator, now installed with Darcy at my old farmhouse, Max brought two tree stands, the kind that hunters used to stalk game from above. Frankie and I were perched above the Beta's campsite, watching for headlights coming up the long drive. Max was on the ground, rightly knowing that Frankie and I could handle a 15-foot drop out of a tree. Max would break a few bones from that kind of fall.

But I was still up a tree at 11:45 p.m. in the middle of the woods.

"It's the dead of winter, Nina. There are no bugs out here." Frankie laughed while I swatted at invisible insects.

Did I mention I hate camping?

On the ground below us, around 20 good-sized tents were scattered among the trees below. It was an efficient setup, although somewhat hampered because the clearing wasn't large enough to properly pitch all the tents. There was some zigzagging between the vegetation, but for the most part it worked.

While Frankie and I were up a tree, Max and Chuck were rounding up the sick Betas. Wisely, Chuck had quarantined the bulk of them in the barn. The area around the log cabin smelled vaguely wolfy, so Chuck was right. It was the home of a werewolf pack, most likely a place for them to use during the full moon. Chuck and his nest arrived just at the start of the first quarter. We were just getting to the third quarter, so it was time for them to clear out. If the werewolves showed up and the Betas were still holed up here, it would be bad. A turned werewolf was as dangerous as a vampire in full bloodlust. The Betas wouldn't have a chance.

I absently touched the stakes that were holstered across my chest. It had been a while since I encountered a werewolf pack, and I was woefully underprepared. I should have brought my M9 loaded with silver bullets. As it was, I only brought one pair of silver-tipped stakes, and that was because I wanted to carry a matching pair. The partner of the stake etched in demon runes was sitting in the eye of poor possessed Zack.

I shuddered when I thought about Zack's body being examined at the morgue, my fingerprints all over the completely indiscreet stake. Bertrand better clean up that disaster. I'd ask Max to take care of it, but I'd rather owe a demon than listen to Max's "do the right thing" self-righteousness. Blood Ops operated above the law, sure. But it wasn't like we had much of a choice in the matter. What would my defense be? Zack was possessed by a demon? They'd send me to the loony bin.

"Frankie," I whispered into the microphone, this time placed comfortably at my throat instead of in my boobs. "How strong is the werewolf scent to you?"

"Can't say," Frankie responded. "It's been a while since I've scented them. I think that's coloring my perception."

"That's what I thought too" I said. "But it's been almost a month since the last full moon and the scent's still clearly lingering? In the cold too? I think they've been around recently."

"Don't you think Chuck would have noticed?"

"Not if they tried to hide their scent. Charcoal hunting apparel, that sort of thing. It would keep the smell faint enough that it appears to be residual from the last full moon."

"You think the pack is stalking the Betas?"

"Not exactly stalking but maybe keeping tabs on them?" I didn't want to accuse a pack of something, especially when no crime was committed. At least that we knew about.

"If the pack knew they were here, why not kick them out?"

I couldn't answer that. Maybe I had an overactive nose. Or imagination.

A glare of headlights at the start of the dirt drive broke through the pitch black.

"Okay, guys," I said, adrenaline kicking in.  "We have headlights coming up the drive."

"Where the hell are Eva and Al?" Max’s voice was thick with frustration.

Eva and Al were supposed to keep watch and radio in when a car turned onto the winding dirt drive. Max wanted redundancy and had put our protocols in place, never mind that Frankie would hear the car way before anyone got a visual. Protocol was breached and Max was pissed. He loved his protocols. We'd never hear the end of this.

"Is this thing on?" Eva's shrill voice boomed into our ears, followed by labored breathing.

"Eva, you okay?" I asked, not sure if I should laugh or be worried.

"Al...Al! Did you hear that voice? It sounded like Nina," Eva bumbled. "I have no idea how this thing works. Do you?"

"Hello? Anyone got their ears on?" Alfonso tried, and this time I snickered.

"Al, you and Eva get off comms," Max said sternly.

"Told you giving them a radio was a mistake," Frankie said, smirking in his tree stand.

"Max is right," I said, clear and low, trying not to giggle. "Comms goes silent now."

There was a chance Jackson was a vampire and his car was close enough that his hearing could pick up our radio chatter. We couldn't risk it.

Max ducked into a tent, and Frankie and I settled into our tree stands. Chuck tried to look nonchalant, like he was out for a midnight stroll. But he was tense. His back was stiff and his jaw jutted forward. He kept clearing his throat and taking his hands in and out of his pockets. When the early model Jeep Cherokee rumbled to a stop, Chuck's body physically jerked.

"Hey, Jackson," he said, a little too loud. "I wasn't expecting you so early."

"Stroke of 12, man. On the dot." A gruff voice responded. My nose twitched, catching the wolf smell again.

"Really?" Chuck laughed nervously. "Must have lost track of time."

The car door opened, and a pair of long denim clad legs swung out. He rose to his full height, definitely over six feet, and built like a brick shit house. I gulped. The guy was enormous. And he wasn't vampire.

Frankie was shooting hand signals wildly at me. He made little fangs with his index fingers. Then he gave himself bunny ears.

"What are you doing?" I hissed into the microphone, keeping a wary eye on Jackson.

"Werewolf," he said, low and clear.

I nodded, my eyes still on Jackson as he and Chuck moved slowly to the back of the Cherokee. Why the hell would a werewolf feed Betas tainted blood? Was he even aware he was killing them?

"Something wrong with you tonight, Chuck? Seems like you have something on your mind," Jackson said as he pulled a cooler out of the trunk. He sounded suspicious. Maybe he was feeding them the bad stuff on purpose. But for trespassing? The punishment did not fit that crime.

"I have some missing friends, and I'm getting worried."

I let out my breath in relief. It was a good cover. He didn't let on that he knew they were diseased. That would have been a dead giveaway.

Jackson dropped the cooler on the ground. "Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, thanks. And thanks for the blood. I don't know what we'd do without you. You're a lifesaver."

I cringed. That was pushing it. But Jackson didn't seem to notice. Chuck was a pretty effusive guy. Maybe this was his standard response to every blood delivery.

"Hey man, happy to help," Jackson said, clapping Chuck on the back, knocking Chuck slightly off balance. The Beta laughed nervously. "When do you want the next delivery? Three days again?"

"Yeah, three days sounds fine. What do I owe you?" Chuck asked.

"We'll square it next time." Jackson climbed back into the Cherokee, and the engine hiccupped and then turned over. He put the car in reverse. "Three days?"

"Thanks. Yes. Three days." Chuck's nerves were about to give out. Jackson needed to get out of here before that happened. I was waiting for poor Chuck to drop to the ground and scream at Jackson that we were on to him.

I didn't breathe until Jackson completed a three-point turn on the narrow dirt drive, grateful to see the red taillights moving further away. Max came out from his hiding spot in the tent while Frankie and I dropped down from the trees. The three of us sprinted towards Max's hidden SUV.

"Wait!" Chuck called out to us. "What about the sick vampires?"

"Are they in the barn?" I asked.

Chuck nodded.

"You think the chain will hold until we get back?" I pressed.

"I don't know!" Chuck burst out, desperate. "They rattle the doors when they get agitated."

"They are locked in pretty tight," Max said.

"Aren't the Betas our first priority?" Frankie asked.

"Nailing Jackson is our first priority," Max said. "What if he's hitting other nests?"

I bit my lip, unsure what to do.

"Nina, can you stay here?" Chuck asked.

"No way," Frankie, Max and I said in unison.

"Too risky," Max said.

"She's not going into a room filled with sick vamps on her own, Betas or not," Frankie reiterated.

"I can't leave those two on their own with Jackson," I jumped in. "He's a werewolf, Chuck. He could be going straight to his pack. We're not prepped for werewolves, so this mission is already way too risky."

Chuck looked scared, "J...J...J...Jackson is a werewolf?"

I looked Chuck in the eye. "This won't take long. Less than an hour." His eyes filled with tears, but he nodded in agreement.

Max was already in the driver's seat, revving the engine. Frankie held the door open for me, and I climbed into the back seat. Frankie jumped into the passenger side and we took off down the dirt road, pursuing a werewolf in the middle of nowhere.

Eva and Al were successfully tailing Jackson. However, they were not successful at figuring out the radio, so Max was on his cell phone trying to suss out where they were exactly.

"Why the hell would a werewolf be interested in killing a nest of Betas?" Frankie thought out loud.

I stared out at the wall of trees that were partially enveloped by the darkness, hoping Frankie's question was rhetorical. No doubt this was a werewolf pack's land, but it was much easier to kick the vampires out than to poison them with contaminated blood bags. I was stumped.

Max tossed his phone on the dashboard and took a hard right off the dirt drive onto the paved road. "Al and Eva are still tailing them. They're almost into Connecticut."

We were in the far northwest corner of Rhode Island, not far from the border. But the closest thing to a highway in this part of both states was the road we were on — a four-lane road that wound through small hamlets and villages. It was built well before the freeway system. If they went far into Connecticut, the sick Betas would wait longer than I liked.

Max was driving like a bat out of hell, so we crossed into Connecticut in record time. When we entered the town of Putnam, a pair of red taillights glowed ahead of us. Max flashed his high beams and Eva's El Camino made a right at the first opportunity.  Jackson's Cherokee was about 600 feet ahead of us.

We tailed him for another mile or so, and then he made a left into a paved driveway, parking in front of the garage attached to a neat suburban track house. He was already out of the car when we pulled in behind him. He reached into the backseat and grabbed a baseball bat. He stood by his Cherokee, waiting for us to get out of the Suburban.

"Evening," Max said. He got out of the driver's seat but left the door open and the car running. Frankie and I followed suit.

"We're with the FBI and Department of Defense," he continued, flashing his badge quickly. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."

Jackson wrinkled his nose a bit, snapping his teeth at the air, tasting it. "You don't smell much like Feds." He eyed Frankie and me up and down. Guess Berserkers didn't give off much of a scent. Vampires did. We smelled like copper pennies, just like blood. Since I was part-witch, I probably smelled like cinnamon too. That was the nice part about witches, they smelled like spice. Werewolves smelled like musk, which was kind of sexy. Of course, these odors were only noticeable to supernaturals with enhanced senses.

I forced my fangs to lengthen and grinned through the discomfort of sharp teeth breaking through my gums. "Ever hear of Blood Ops?"

Jackson's face went ashen. "Blood Ops? That's just a myth."

Frankie grinned, his fangs at full mast. "Your mum and dad weren't just telling you scary stories." His blue eyes glowed, lighting up the dark around him. Frankie sure knew how to turn on the creep.

"Why are you feeding those vamps bad blood?" Max asked, no hint of Berserker breaking through.

"They're on our land," Jackson replied gruffly, his werewolf traits rising to the surface. He didn't bother denying the accusation.

"They're just Betas," I said. "They pose no threat to you or your pack."

"I don't think murder is an appropriate punishment for trespassing," Frankie added. "You could have simply asked them to leave."

Jackson snarled, his upper lip rising to reveal a pretty impressive canine tooth of his own. "We have our way of doing things. You have yours."