Out of the Night (30 page)

Clint sat alone in the empty building, having finished collecting blood for the evening and sent away the last homeless blood donor. He looked at the fresh bag in his hand and with a resigned sigh bit into it, feeling more like a monster than a man.

As much blood dribbled down the side of his mouth and chin as down his gullet. Normally, he would have squeezed the contents into a cup first, but there was something satisfying about the feel of his fangs piercing the plastic bag. It was like piercing human flesh, which he was reluctant to do in reality. While the notion of drinking blood no longer bothered him, he didn't like harming innocent people.

The night of his rising haunted him still, and he found little solace in knowing that he'd been unable to control himself or that Lance had done most of the actual killing. Once Clint realized what was happening, he'd done nothing to stop it, which only added to his sin. He was grateful that during the days, his sleep was dreamless.

Shaking off the memory, he brought his thoughts back to the present. He hadn't stopped Lance that fateful night, but he had no such excuse now. He'd overheard Lance talking to the others; knew their plans. The lives of more than a few researchers were now at stake, and Clint knew he had to do something. He went over his plan once more in his head and then, satisfied that he'd thought of every contingency, finished drinking the blood and tossed the bag into the corner. He wouldn't be back.

At his feet, Gem stared up at him, her eyes a brilliant green, reflecting her contented state. He picked up the spent bag of dog's blood and tossed it over beside his own. "You like that?" He smiled and gave her head a loving pat. She hadn't grown at all over the last six months, and he was beginning to think it took chupacabras decades to mature—which meant the adult was quite old.

"She should be treasured," he mumbled to himself as he stood and packed all the blood into his backpack. "Are you ready to go?" he asked the small creature as he struggled into the shoulder straps. At his words, the baby chupacabra leaped into the air and landed on his shoulders, where she preferred to ride.

Slipping into the night, Clint blended with the shadows and made his way back to where Lance had established their new lair, taking a slightly different route than he normally did. He made one stop along the way, at a vet's clinic, where he made a "purchase," leaving behind enough money to pay for the items he took.

As he rehearsed what he needed to do, he was struck with a peculiar sense of déjà vu—hadn't he done something similar just the other night?

Both Harris and Kinsley had proved resistant to Lance's command and his plans, but it was Kinsley who had opposed Lance openly, making him the perfect candidate for the experiment. Clint knew that Lance would miss him least. He'd hated to take a life, but it had been important to test the antiserum without Lance's knowledge, so Clint had gone to Kinsley just after sunset, catching the man as he first rose. He'd injected the man before he knew what Clint intended to do, and by the time he reacted, it was too late.

As the antiserum destroyed the venom-rilled cells of his body, the seizures had been immediate—and clearly painful. It was over in minutes, leaving Kinsley dead. Clint enjoyed a private victory—the antiserum worked!

Lance discovered the body later but had been so preoccupied that morning, no doubt concerned about Hector's continued disappearance, that he'd not given Kinsley's demise much thought. In fact, Clint thought Lance had taken the news of Kinsley's death surprisingly well.

The new lair loomed ahead of him, and Clint went around to the back of the building where he could sneak into his lab without having to see the others. The adult chupacabra was there, waiting for him. She'd grown so weak that she could barely stand, much less attack, and so Lance had been leaving her alone.

She raised a weary eyelid when she saw Clint.
Feel bad
.

"I know."

Dying.

He knew that, too, and hated that he'd not been strong enough to prevent it. He had a plan now, but the most he hoped to achieve was to free the adult long enough to give her a place where she could die in peace—he knew he couldn't save her.

Once again, he'd failed to protect those he cared for, and he found himself thinking of his daughter, longing for things that could not be.

Setting his backpack on the floor at his feet, he reached inside and pulled out the vial of drugs and the large syringe he'd taken from the vet's office. He pulled the protective cap off the needle and drew several cc's of medicine into the barrel. He had no idea how much of the tranquilizer he'd need and worried that too much might kill her instantly, rather than simply knock her out.

He eyed her again, judged her to be about the size of a small pony, and drew a little more of the drug into the syringe. When he finished, he went back to the adult.

"You'll have to trust me on this," he told her. "He'll never let you go." He saw her gaze flicker to the baby beside her and felt a warmth and fear through the link. "I'll take care of her," he promised. "I won't let him have her." For a moment, creature and vampire studied each other, and then very slowly and deliberately, the chupacabra blinked her eyes in assent.

Clint offered a silent prayer, on the off chance that heaven still heard him, and injected the drug into her. Morning was approaching, and he had just enough time to dispose of the drug and syringe before Lance came strolling in. He found Clint sitting on the floor with the two creatures. Lance stared at them with disgust and then snorted.

"Weber, sometimes I think you like those creatures more than you like people." He left the room never having spoken a truer word.

Tired from an evening spent talking to the admiral, Mac and Dirk returned to the hotel together. The first thing Mac noticed when he walked into his room was that Lanie was not in hers. He'd become so attuned to her—the sound of her breathing, the tempo of her heartbeat, the scent that was hers alone—that he noticed when she was absent.

He remembered the harsh words he'd spoken to her earner, and a part of him was afraid she'd left for good. Stepping through the connecting doors, he swept the room with his gaze, verifying what he already knew. She wasn't there. He tried to tell himself that she'd run out for a quick errand and would be back soon, but it was still dark outside and that argument seemed unlikely.

"Problems?" Dirk asked from the other room.

"She's not here."

As he stood surveying the room, under the irrational hope that she'd materialize out of thin air, he heard the shuffle of paper and then Dirk's muttered oath.

"I think you'd better take a look at this."

Mac hurried into the other room and saw Dirk standing by the door, holding an open envelope and a note.

"I found this in the corner. It must have been pushed there when we opened the door."

Mac looked at it, then swore.

I have her. Burton.

An address was scrawled across the bottom.

Checking the time, he saw that it was almost sunrise. "I have to go get her," he announced.

Dirk, looking tired, already had his hand on the door. "Let's do it."

Mac studied his friend. Dirk had been attacked the night before and was not fully recovered. How wise was it for him to exert himself so soon when the night had already proved so trying?

Still, Mac knew that if the situation were reversed, he'd insist on going, so he didn't try to talk Dirk out of it. Rather, he welcomed the company. If Burton had Lanie, he needed all the assistance he could get.

They took a cab to the address on the note and found themselves in front of an old hotel, located on the corner of derelict central. It was a dilapidated ten-story structure that had rotted or missing boards on the doors and windows.

Mac and Dirk did a quick surveillance of the area while approaching, alert for signs of the trap they knew they were about to walk into. When they were certain they weren't being watched, they walked to the back of the building to find the rear entrance.

They found the one that led down into the basement, which was where Mac felt sure they'd find Burton. Without windows, it was the safest place for vampires, so it made the most sense to hold Lanie there.

Checking their guns, they opened the door and stepped inside. With every step, Mac prayed that he would find Lanie alive and unharmed.

Lanie arrived back at the hotel, numb with exhaustion from a night spent in the apartment building. Some of the residents went to work at dawn and after calling for a cab, she'd followed them outside, hoping there was safety in numbers. Now, all she wanted to do was sleep.

Opening the door to her room, she was struck by the silence. She'd been sure that Mac would have returned from wherever he went. It suddenly occurred to her that maybe she'd been naive to think he would get over his anger and hurt with her. Concerned, she walked into his room and saw that it was empty.

She started back toward her side, resigned to wait for him, when she noticed the paper and envelope lying on the desk. It looked just like the note she'd received earlier that evening, the one that had sent her hurrying out into the night—into a trap.

She picked it up and read it. Icicles of fear pierced her heart as she realized that Mac had raced off into danger—to save her. Wishing she knew Mac's cell phone number, she went to the phone and dialed the number to the hospital instead, asking to be connected to Dirk's room. He would know what to do.

Her fear grew to panic when she was told that he had checked out hours ago. Quickly she phoned Uncle Charles, but hung up when she reached his answering machine. She was on her own.

Their search of the basement was thorough and fast because it was empty. Refusing to leave until he'd checked every room and closet, Mac and Dirk proceeded to the next floor.

By the time they'd searched it, the sun was peeking over the horizon, and tendrils of light filtered through the cracks of the boarded windows. Mac struggled up the next flight of stairs. The coming of dawn had brought with it a lethargy that made him feel as if his bones were made of granite. Behind him, he heard the labored breathing of Dirk and knew his friend suffered similarly. When they reached the door to the next floor, Mac opened it and stepped through, looking up and down the hallway as he caught his breath.

"Should we split up?" Dirk asked, coming to rest beside him.

Mac considered the suggestion. They could cover more ground if they did, but Burton was evil, not stupid. Splitting up was too dangerous. "No."

Mac led them to the right, stopping to look inside the first room, which was missing a door. It was obviously empty, but there were back rooms that had to be searched. Dirk pulled his gun and stood off to the side while Mac moved forward cautiously.

He pulled open the door and ducked inside the room, but it was empty. He moved on to the next one, repeating his actions on down the hallway, his anxiety and concern for Lanie growing as each successive room proved equally deserted. He forced himself to move faster. If something happened to her…

He refused to finish the thought and headed down to the other end. Once again, they checked each room, and when they found the last one empty, both men silently resigned themselves to climbing the flight of stairs to the next level.

This floor had suites, which meant fewer rooms to go into, but more places to stash a hostage—or lay a trap. By now, Mac was having trouble stifling the doubts and recriminations flooding his mind. He should have sent Lanie home when he had the chance. She would have been safe then. Why had he let her stay?

He knew the answer to that, and it made the fear that she might be hurt that much more intense. He clinched the grip of his gun tighter, feeling the sting of his nails biting into his flesh where his hands overlapped.

Finished with the second floor, they continued on to the third, and then the fourth. It was rapidly becoming apparent that Lanie was not in the building. Still, he couldn't leave without knowing for sure, so they continued on.

Suddenly an explosion that rocked the entire building forced Mac and Dirk to their knees. Plaster from the ceiling and walls crashed down around them, sending up a fine haze of powder. Mac didn't know if it was caused by accident or sabotage, but either way, they needed to exit the building immediately. Already, he smelled the acrid scent of burning plaster and wood, and knew a fire raged below them.