The Rose Ransom (Girls Wearing Black: Book Three) (15 page)

“She is perfectly secure. There
is absolutely no escape until I choose to let her out.”

“And why would you ever choose
that when you could just let her starve?”

“You have your amusements,
Renata, and I have mine. I enjoy keeping her as a pet. And I will be thrilled
to let her out when our work is done. I want her to see the magnitude of my
victory over her before I kill her.”

“Of
our
victory,” Renata
said.

“Yes, of course,” said Falkon.

They spoke for a few minutes
more, planning out the details of the coming days. When they ended the call,
Falkon turned to Michael and said, “That woman has the gift of gab.”

“Yes, Master,” said Michael.

Falkon led Michael into the
mine. They walked a short distance along an abandoned track before coming to
the shaft.

“Have a look down, Michael,”
said Falkon. “What do you see?”

“Darkness,” said Michael.

“Indeed,” said Falkon. “It is a
bottomless pit when looking from above. I was so pleased to find this place. I
had no idea how deep that hole went the first time I jumped. It was quite a
thrill. Do you like thrills, Michael?”

“If it is your desire for me to
like them.”

Falkon snapped his fingers and
Michael’s eyes sprang open. “Where am I?” he said. “What’s happening?”

Falkon loved that first moment
after the slave’s mind was released. The fear in their eyes was so intense.
Their screams so genuine.

He pushed Michael, sending the
boy plummeting into darkness. The boy squealed like a stuck pig for all six seconds
of his descent. When he landed, his legs snapped like twigs.

Falkon jumped down, landing
conveniently on Michael’s ankle. Michael let out a beautiful scream of pain.

“I know you can’t see down
here,” Falkon said, “but if you could, you would know that there is a steel
door cut into the wall right in front of you. Can you guess what’s behind that
door?”

Michael was whimpering, his body
thrashing about from the pain.

“Fine. I’ll tell you,” said
Falkon. “There is a vampire on the other side of that door. A very old, very
powerful vampire, who gets thirsty from time to time, being cooped up in
there.”

Michael let out a low, terrible
moan. The boy had a beautiful voice that echoed throughout the shaft.

Falkon walked up to the steel
door and opened a small panel, exposing a cabinet inside. He reached in and
pulled out a wooden goblet.

“I’ve had this cup since the
year 1183,” he said. “It has held the blood of men and women from all over
Europe. Nobles, peasants, even a princess, once. I feed my prisoner with this
cup for old time’s sake. Believe it or not, she and I drank from it together
once. We were in the hills of Andalucia. She was a good friend of mine in those
days. It’s a shame all that had to change.”

Falkon crouched down and bit
into Michael’s wrist, eliciting a high-pitched wail that made Falkon’s heart
happy. He held the open wrist over the cup. When the cup was full, he put it
back in the cabinet, closed the panel, and pushed a button on the side of the
door.

“If you listen carefully,
sometimes you can hear her drink it,” Falkon whispered.

He put his ear to the door. He
heard movement on the other side. The cup coming through. A hand picking it up.

“There she goes,” Falkon said.
“Drink up, Daciana. I wouldn’t want you to grow weak in there.”

He turned to Michael, who lay on
the ground, weak from the loss of blood.

“It won’t be long, my boy,”
Falkon said. “The pain will subside as your body goes into shock. Those last
few hours will be quite peaceful.”

“You’re leaving me down here?
Alone?”

“No,” Falkon said. “You’re not
alone. My friend Daciana is on the other side of that door. I’m sure she would
love to listen to you scream a few more times before you die.”

Falkon’s home was cut into the
side of a mountain in the Italian Alps. A sprawling estate made of twenty-some
terraces that stair-stepped up the mountainside, Falkon’s home had a majesty to
it that wasn’t even possible in America.

Renata adored the place.

Driving into the estate took her
up a winding mountain road. Other than the villages at the base of the
mountain, which were populated entirely by Falkon’s slaves, there wasn’t a
trace of civilization within miles of the estate. The road took her past alpine
meadows covered in snow, forests of tall pine trees, and steep mountain drops
on both sides. As she drove higher into the mountains, concrete gave way to
gravel. Signs warned that she was entering private land. The forest grew
thicker. The road, more narrow.

She crested a hill and the house
came into view. Marble pillars and archways, a long portico all around, a
statuary in the garden with modern works standing side by side with treasures
from the ancient world—Falkon’s was the kind of home that required centuries of
deliberate effort to create. There was a greenhouse, two guest homes, barracks
for the slaves who lived onsite, a garage big enough to house a snowplow, and,
in the center of it all, a multi-million dollar laboratory where Falkon and
Renata hoped they would soon make a scientific breakthrough that would change everything.

It was no wonder the guy was
always hard up for money. His was a very expensive lifestyle. To do all this in
secret, as had been necessary, required him to find a sugar mama who could
score him lots of cash.

That’s where Renata came in.
Tonight’s visit was the first in years where she didn’t arrive with a suitcase
full of money. Not that she was approaching the house empty-handed. Tonight she
came with a 3-ring binder she had turned up after an exhaustive search on the
Farm. Inside that binder was the research report Melissa had stolen from the
Evans family, the research that would allow them to finally finish their work.

Renata’s driver took her to the
main entrance. Falkon met her on the front porch.

“Good evening. I’m so glad to
see you tonight,” he said in his ridiculous accent.

Renata didn’t know Falkon’s
story—nobody did anymore except for him—but in his voice, she could hear some
of his thousand-year history. His accent was a mix of Transylvania, czarist
Russia, and Slovakia. Not a hint of Italian even though he’d lived in this
villa for as long as Renata knew him. Falkon was like Daciana in that way. She
too never lost the accent of her homeland, even after a century in the New
World.

Falkon kissed her on the cheek.
Renata gave him the 3-ring binder.

“Ah yes,” he said. “Here it is.
I can’t wait to get started.”

He took her hand and led her
into the house, where three humans were waiting to greet her.

“Renata Sullivan, meet Dr.
Sharon Weiss from the University of Berlin. She has been promoted to senior
scientist following the untimely departure of Hank Evans.”

Renata shook hands with the
woman, who had the sort of severe look that only a German could pull off.

“And these two young lads will
be our interns for the next few months,” Falkon said, gesturing at a pair of
scruffy-looking college boys.

“Interns?” said Renata. “I
didn’t know we had interns.”

“Yes, well, you know how young
blood can inject new life into a project,” said Falkon. He gestured at one of
the boys, a dark-haired kid with splotchy facial hair and baggy pants.

“Mateo here is from the
University of Madrid,” Falkon said. “Studying…what was it again?”

“Chemistry,” Mateo said.

“Yes, yes of course. And this
other handsome fellow is named Channing. He is from Princeton.”

Channing was a short blonde kid
wearing a ring in his nose and a T-shirt that paid homage to some comic book
hero named Manta Ray.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,
Ms. Sullivan,” he said.

Renata knew right away that
Falkon wasn’t being upfront with these boys. They were far too chipper and
eager to please. They weren’t Falkon’s type at all. He preferred to work with
humans who could hold their own with him, who wouldn’t be afraid to tell him
the truth, even when he didn’t want to hear it.

She was about to ask Falkon
point blank what he was up to when she caught sight of the servants setting up
a chess board in the dining room. Now she understood. Falkon was going to have
some fun.

He turned to the college kids.
“Mateo, Channing, please have a seat at the table. You are going to play chess.
Mateo will take the white pieces.”

“Chess? Right now?” said
Channing.

“It is a tradition of sorts,”
Falkon said. “Please, come this way.”

They both smiled and nodded,
still so very eager to please. Poor saps.

“I enjoy a good game of chess,” said
Mateo.

“Me too,” said Channing. “I’ve
been in chess club since middle school.”

“Marvelous,” said Falkon,
clapping his hands together. “Just marvelous. Let us hope you are evenly
matched and it is a good game. When you are done, I will give a prize to the
winner. Begin!”

Mateo grabbed the pawn above his
bishop and moved it forward a square. Channing moved his knight. Renata watched
as the two kids laid out their pieces in a very traditional opening. It was
clear that they were both experienced chess players.

Renata had never been much of a
chess enthusiast until she met Falkon. He made her play chess every time she
came to visit. He also engaged her in ongoing games over the Internet, and even
made her install a chess app on her phone. To Falkon, chess was a way to manage
the boredom of a life without end. It was a mental exercise that still
challenged him even after a thousand years.

Mateo pushed his bishop into
Channing’s territory. It was an aggressive move that Channing could exploit if
he worked the board right.

“Ah, and now the real game
begins,” Falkon said. “Your pawns are in place and your stronger pieces are
coming out to play. Would either of you care to hear about the prize I intend
to offer the winner?”

Both boys nodded their heads
like eager little puppies.

“The winner gets to assist Dr.
Weiss on my research project until it is complete,” Falkon said. “It’s a very
good prize, isn’t it?”

“But, I thought we both were
here to assist Dr. Weiss,” Mateo said.

“You are,” said Falkon. “And one
of you will get to. The winner of this game becomes her assistant.”

Channing furrowed his brow.
“You’re not saying the loser…does the loser still get to work on the project?”

“The loser becomes our test
subject.”

A second of silence passed
through the room.

“What do you mean test subject?”
said Channing.

Renata shook her head. These
poor kids. They probably answered some advertisement Falkon placed in their
school paper. What a deliciously cruel game he was playing with them.

“You are here to do highly
classified, cutting edge research under the guidance of Dr. Weiss and in
accordance with my instructions,” Falkon said. “Your research will be done on
human test subjects.”

“We’re testing on humans?” said
Channing. “So this is like, a pharmaceutical thing? I thought you wanted us to
do computer work.”

“Computers do play a large role,”
said Falkon. “In fact, why don’t we step away from the game for a minute and go
look at the facilities? After you know more about the work we are doing, you’ll
better understand what’s at stake in your chess game. Come along.”

Falkon led the group to the back
of the house, where a long stairwell connected his home to the the lab on the
terrace below. Renata walked next to Dr. Weiss as they went all the way to the
bottom and into the computer room.

“And here it is, the heart of
our operation,” Falkon said, opening his arms wide in presentation.

“Wow,” Channing whispered,
clearly in awe.

Falkon’s computer room was quite
a sight. Computers controlled their research project, and over the years, they
found more and more computing power was needed. In this room alone, there were
dozens of powerful computers, all networked together.

“What are you doing with all
this?” Channing said.

“We are building a genetic
sequence,” said Falkon. “The computers control experiments throughout the lab,
and also compile results we have collected from similar research all around the
world. In fact, tonight my dear friend Renata has brought some of the most
important research of all.”

Falkon held up the 3-ring binder
Renata had given him.

“This, Dr. Weiss, will be
keeping you busy in the weeks to come.”

The slightest of smirks came to
Dr. Weiss’s lips.

“What is that?” Channing said.
“Are you actually working on paper?”

Falkon laughed. “Oh, my boy, you
truly are a product of the age. Yes, we often use paper around here. And if not
paper, then removable storage devices that we hand-carry from one facility to
another.”

“Why in the world do you do
that?” Channing asked.

“Our research is data-intensive
and highly sensitive,” Falkon said. “Far too many spying eyes out there to send
it over the Internet.”

“What’s so sensitive about it?”

“Ah, that is a good question! To
answer it, we must go to the lab.”

Falkon led them out of the
computer room, up two flights of stairs, and into a room with large windows
occupying an entire wall.

“This is our viewing deck,”
Falkon said. “Please approach the windows. I will turn on the lights and you
can see the laboratory.”

Falkon went to the end of the
room and flipped a light switch, illuminating what was on the other side of the
windows.

“Oh my God, what is this?”
Channing said.

In front of them was the
specimen cage, a huge, multi-level prison where every cell had a glass door
that allowed a full view of the subject inside.

“Dr. Weiss, Channing, Mateo,
meet the rest of the family,” said Falkon.

They were looking at sixteen
prison cells, each hosting a single creature inside.

Renata enjoyed watching the
reactions of the humans. Dr. Weiss stood close to the window, looking on with
fascination. She had a bit of lust in her eyes, just as Hank Evans did when he
got his first glimpse of the work he’d be doing.

Mateo, too, looked more curious
than frightened. Channing, however, looked absolutely panicked. He was the
first to speak.

“What the hell are those
things?”

“They are feral vampires,” said
Falkon. “Distantly related to Renata and myself, in the same way you humans are
related to Neanderthals and cavemen. There are only a few links in the genetic code
that separate these creatures from Renata and me.”

Renata turned away from the
window. The ferals grossed her out. And to think that they shared genetic info
with her. To think that her blood had helped to create these horrible things.

All gray-faced and hunched over,
the feral vampires were what happened if you took away a vampire’s culture and
sophistication, and left only the blood-thirsty predator. This batch of ferals
was made using both Renata and Falkon’s blood. In a way, these creatures were part
of her clan, a clan where she was queen and Falkon was king.

But neither of them liked to
think of these monsters as their brothers and sisters. Instead, they called
them pets. Sixteen pets with different personalities and levels of obedience.

“Research? You mean, you made
these things?” Channing said.

“I unlocked the genetic code
that separates human from vampire, at least, at the most basic level,” said
Falkon. “Our challenge going forward is to modify that code further so we
aren’t creating these rabid beasts, but instead are making real immortals. When
we are done, we will have a clan of immortals that is larger and more powerful
than any on earth.”

“This is really crazy,” Channing
said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dillinger. I’m not interested in this job. If you can
call me a cab, I’ll--”

“You will finish your chess
game,” Falkon said in a commanding voice. “Renata has brought me a binder of
research that requires testing. We need a test subject.”

“No way!” Channing shouted.
“There’s no way I’m doing this!”

“Are you saying you forfeit the
game?”

“I’m saying I want out of here!”

Channing ran out of the room and
sprinted down the hall. Falkon walked up to Mateo and slapped him on the back.

“Congratulations,” he said. “It
looks like you are the new research assistant for Dr. Weiss. You will start
immediately. Renata, give me a minute to go catch our newest test subject, then
I will take you to see Nicky.”

Renata listened as Channing
reached the end of the hall and ran out the front door.

“Have fun,” she said. “See you
in a few minutes.”

Monsters with poison fangs and
spiders all over her skin—that was what little Nicky dreamed about when the
black van stole her and Frankie away in the night.

Later, she learned it was the
knockout gas. Addonox was its chemical name. Addonox gave everyone nightmares.
For Nicky, the nightmares were so vivid she still couldn’t shake the memory of
them, and even though she had since learned to control her fear of vampires, of
danger, even of death, she still was a little afraid to go to sleep at night.
She was still afraid of what was waiting for her in her dreams.

Addonox was the chemical that
came spraying out of the canister on the airplane. Nicky knew it when she saw
it, and in her final microsecond of awareness before she collapsed, she knew
she was headed into another nightmare.

And that Ryan was too.

For Nicky, the nightmare was a
crystal clear, fast-forward version of the recurring dream that had haunted her
since the Masquerade. She stood in front of a silver sphere, in the courtyard
of a brick building with a big glass window. Her mother stood behind the glass.