Out of the Night (22 page)

Just then, a noise at the door drew his attention. Clint turned and saw the adult chupa drag herself into the room, Lance's blood still dripping from her mourn. He watched her walk across the room and settle down next to the baby. He fetched a bag of dog's blood and held it so she could drink from it, hoping it would dilute the effects of the human blood. He wasn't sure if it worked, but she seemed grateful for it.

Fatigue now beat at him, and he knew the time was near. He lay down beside the two chupas and absently stroked them, his thoughts turning to his daughter. He missed her and was sorry for the worry and heartache she had suffered because of him. When he'd seen her in Taribu, he'd not wanted to leave, but he'd been too afraid of what Lance would do to her if he had refused. Now he felt that his only hope of seeing her again lay in helping Lance—or in destroying him.

Though he couldn't see it, Clint sensed the sun rising in the sky and just before he lost consciousness, he felt the cool texture of stone beneath his fingers.

Lanie woke, glanced at the clock, and saw that it was already four in the afternoon. She was starting to feel like a vampire herself, sleeping all day and up all night. It wasn't a hard adjustment, she thought. She was already used to being up at night because of her work with the fire department.

Thinking of ft, she realized that she needed to make a couple of phone calls. Climbing out of bed, she walked to the connecting doors. They were open a crack, and peeking into the other room, she spotted Mac still in bed. She didn't know how long he'd sleep, but she decided not to wake him. Instead, she closed the door to her room and crossed to the desk, where she found the room-service menu and quickly placed an order. She was starving and wasn't going to start another new "night" without something substantial to eat. As a last-minute decision, she ordered extra for Mac. Then she set about brewing a pot of coffee because she needed the caffeine rush to jump-start her brain.

She showered while it brewed, and by the time she was dressed and the coffee was done, her food had arrived. She signed the bill, tipped the delivery guy, and then sat down to enjoy a nice normal meal in silence. She didn't even turn on the TV, too afraid there'd be another story about what the media were now referring to as the "vampire" murders. If they only knew how close they were to the truth.

When she finished her meal, she called the library in Houston and talked to her boss, briefly telling her that there had been problems surrounding her father's death and she was now in Washington, D.C., helping to sort them out. Once again, her boss had been understanding and told her to take as much time as she needed, but Lanie knew her vacation time was running out. Pretty soon, she'd have to go back or risk losing her job. At least it was summer and there were enough students looking for summer work to help out, so the library wasn't suffering from her absence.

Next she called the fire station and talked to one of the guys. She told him an equally vague story and asked him to pull her name off the roster until further notice. He assured her that while things had been busy, they were managing. She promised to call as soon as she was back in town and hung up the phone.

Guilt hit her. They needed her help back home, and she was refusing to return because she wanted to stay here—where Mac and Dirk didn't need, or want, her help. Not that she could blame them. After all, what could
she
do?

She wasn't specially trained like they were—all she knew was first aid, fires, and research.

That was it! She found her father's laptop and set it up on the desk, plugging it into the data port. She called the front desk and made the necessary arrangements for accessing the Internet. She was soon so absorbed in her work mat she didn't hear the connecting door open an hour later.

"What are you doing?"

She looked up and felt her cheeks burn at the sight of Mac standing in the doorway between the two rooms. He'd pulled on his jeans but hadn't bothered with either socks or a shirt, and Lanie struggled not to stare. He looked disheveled with his hair mashed down in places and at least two days' growth of beard covering his jaw. Lanie thought he'd never looked better.

"Hi." She glanced down at her screen, afraid he might see how much the sight of him affected her. "I wanted to help, so I thought I'd see what I could find on the Internet that might be of use."

"You did, did you?" He gave her a lazy smile as he walked toward her, and there was no hint of his earlier limp to mar his easy gait or the enticing motion of his hips. The memory of those hips pressed against her almost pulled a sigh from her.

As if sensing her thoughts, he came to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders as he bent his head close to hers in order to look at the screen. Then he turned to her. "What did you find?"

She felt herself drowning in the depths of his eyes and had to blink several times in order to break the spell. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

He smiled, and she sat enthralled as he leaned closer still. It was a gentle kiss, not meant to seduce or arouse—though it did both. Lanie closed her eyes and focused all her attention on the warm, tender feel of his lips, his tongue brushing against hers. After a moment, the kiss ended and he pulled back, licked his lips, and smiled. "Is that coffee I taste?"

"Yes." She managed a smile and pointed to the bar. "There's extra, if you'd like some. Also, I ordered room service earlier and took the liberty of ordering something for you as well. It's in the microwave."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she got the impression that he was pleased. He poured himself a cup of coffee, which she noticed he took black, and after he took a sip, he opened the microwave door and looked inside. Then he gave her a surprised yet pleased smile and pulled out his steak, bloodred in the center, with fries on the side.

"I wasn't sure what you'd want," she started to explain, but he cut her off.

"This is perfect. Thank you." He pulled out the plate, grabbed the extra set of flatware, and sat on the edge of her bed. It surprised her because she hadn't expected him to stay in there with her, but she found she liked it. She watched him cut a bite of steak and caught a glimpse of his fangs as he popped it into his mouth to chew. Seeing them added a touch of surrealism to what was already a bizarre experience for her.

"I thought I might be able to help you find where Burton and my father are staying," she said, trying to get her thoughts back on the right track. "I figured they'd have to stay somewhere during the day. In the movies, it's always a crypt or graveyard, but somehow I don't think that's where we'll find the modern-day vampire.

"So I did a search of the city's public records and real-estate listings for empty homes, apartment buildings, city buildings, warehouses—that kind of stuff. I then did a search on all news reports in the last couple of days covering unusual murders or anything having to do with blood. Interestingly enough, two hospitals have reported the theft of venipuncture, blood bank, and chemical lab supplies. I don't know if that's related or not."

He'd been cutting his steak and looked up at that bit of news, his brow furrowed. "Why would they steal supplies?"

"Assuming that my father is still more or less himself, despite being a vampire, then I can understand the chemical lab supplies. Dad is the type who'd want to know more about how the venom turns humans into vampires. That might also explain why they took blood supplies."

"Maybe." He shrugged, popped a fry into his mouth, and thoughtfully chewed before swallowing. "Anything else?"

"Not really. I've got the list of empty buildings. I thought that maybe tomorrow I could start visiting them."

"Absolutely not," he said without even looking up at her. "I don't want you looking for Burton on your own. Dirk and I have a plan. Believe me, we'll find him."

She'd expected this type of reaction and finished downloading her file and broke the connection to the Internet.

"So what
are
the plans for tonight?"

"The same as they were last night. Dirk will watch one while I watch the other. If we're lucky, we'll get there before Burton arrives, catch him in the act, and terminate him."

"Sounds good. What should I wear? Something dark?"

"You're not going," he said around a mouthful of steak, still not looking at her.

"Wait a minute. Last night—"

"Last night, I said you could stay. I'm not taking you with me to face Burton. It's too dangerous."

Trying to control her temper, she glared at him. "Fine. Then I might as well go ahead and start searching the empty buildings for where they're staying."

"No, you won't." Mac laid his flatware across his plate and, pushing off the bed, set the plate with partially eaten food on the tray holding her empty dishes. Then he turned to her, his gaze steely. "How long are we going to argue about your going out tonight?"

"How long do you plan to stand there and tell me what I can and cannot do?"

He drew in a deep breath and then let it out. "Wear dark clothes. I'll call Dirk for the address, okay?"

She smiled. "Works for me."

"Yeah," he muttered as he walked out the door. "You say that now."

An hour later, Mac and Lanie stood in the hallway outside of Smith's hotel room. They had no idea if the man was inside or not, but Mac felt certain that they couldn't just stand around in the hall all night. Someone was bound to ask them what they were doing and then call the cops if they didn't leave. Innocent bystanders were the last thing they needed, Mac thought.

He knocked on Smith's door and waited. There was no sound from the other side, which could have meant anything. For all Mac knew, Smith might not even be there.

Or, worst case, he was there and dead or dying. It was this last thought that gave him his greatest concern.

"What now?" Lanie asked, standing beside him.

"I go in.
You
wait here." The hall was empty, so Mac gripped the handle of the door and, using his newfound strength, forced the handle down and opened the door. The sight that met him told Mac they were too late.

The inside of the room was a wreck. The bed linens were strewn across the floor, and the curtains were ripped and torn where they hung. Even the dresser was knocked askew. The remains of the desk chair lay in pieces, and Mac wondered if Smith had used it to defend himself. There was enough blood around to know violence had taken place—a pool of it on the floor near the remains of the chair and more of it sprayed across the bed.

"Mac?" Lanie's voice came to him from the hallway.

"He's not here," Mac informed her.

"Meaning he's checked out or…" Her voice drifted and he answered her unspoken question.

"Yeah, Burton got him."

Across town, Dirk crouched behind the hedge of bushes running along the front of a house in a modest residential section. He was grateful the owners weren't home. The windows were blessedly dark, making the shadows between the house and the bushes, where he crouched, even darker.

He'd been waiting for almost two hours now and was beginning to think that Burton had chosen Mac's target to acquire tonight instead of his. It might be just as well if that was the case, he thought. Mac, with his newfound inhuman abilities, was the better match for a vampire. Of course, Dirk worried about what that made Mac. If he was turning into a vampire himself, then sooner or later Dirk would have to terminate him. It wasn't something he looked forward to.