Renegade (Ministry of Paranormal Research & Defence) (17 page)

We returned to the manor, heading to the front gates this time. I was in one car, Bolt beside me in the passenger seat. Ahead of us was the limo, Jason driving, John and Cam, in the back with our vampire ‘Mistress’. Leading the group was the other Charger, driven by Steph with Loki riding shotgun. Dawn was less than an hour away.

Our little convoy pulled into the gravel drive that led to an area lit by floodlights, in front of a pair of gates I could have knocked over with a sneeze. Not that I would have needed to, the gates were standing open, guarded by two more guys in blue who snapped to something approximating attention when they saw the KnightStar insignia. Loki and Steph pulled up to within twenty feet of the gates and slowed to a stop. Bolt stepped out of the Charger and took up station by the rear of the limo. His hand was resting nonchalantly on his holstered pistol, casually threatening. After a few seconds of staring hard at the scenery he reached out to the rear door of the limo and opened it. John stepped out and adjusted his suit cuffs as he shut the door. The guards on the gate eyed them nervously as they approached.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” said John in a plumy voice several social strata above his usual gravelly growl. “Am I correct in believing that this is the home of the august vampire Anton DeClerc?”

“
You’d be right, sir,” said the oldest of the two guards, a blocky man wearing upside down sergeant’s stripes in the American fashion.

“
Ah, splendid. Might I prevail upon you to inform him that my Mistress, the Countess Anastasia, desires a meeting with him to discuss matters of some import to them both?”

A blank look crossed the sergeant’s face
, and the other two looked like John was speaking to them in a foreign language. Then the clouds parted and I could almost see the train of thought running through the man’s head: I’m not paid enough to deal with rich British jokers, so I’ll kick it up to someone who does get paid enough. And if that ruins some over-paid, under-worked jerk-off’s night, so much the better.

Satisfied with his logic, the sergeant adopted the grave, thoughtful look of a man who actually had the authority to make the decision he was pretending to make.

“Certainly, sir,” he said. “I’ll find out if Mr. DeClerc is available. Give me a minute.”

John nodded and the sergeant ambled back to the guard hut beside the gate. John, meanwhile strolled back to the car. I heard the whir of the window going down and some muted conversation.

After a few boring minutes a vamp appeared. This one was pure southern gentleman, from his white three-piece suit to his crisp Panama hat. He was even carrying an ebony cane with an ivory handle and had a watch chain running across his waistcoat. I hadn't seen one of those since my grandad died. The vamp sauntered up to the guards and spoke in a voice that sounded like he was permanently on the edge of yawning.

“
Now why on Earth did you keep our guests waiting outside, Samuel?”

“
Sorry, sir,” said the guard sergeant. “I was waiting for permission.”

“
Well, dear boy, now you have permission, bring them inside,” replied the vamp.

I barely managed to avoid cracking a smile. It seemed that vamps were like most bosses: happy to shit on the underlings at every opportunity. You kiss upwards and shit downwards. The feeling of amusement quickly faded. I was about to meet the vampire who had ordered the Marie's kidnapping. I needed to control the rage boiling in my gut long enough to find her. It wouldn't help her if I marched into the place and started indiscriminately shooting people and blowing shit up. I needed to find her first.
Then
I could start indiscriminately shooting people and blowing shit up.

Anna was simply magnificent. She exploded out of the limo like a landmine going off, strode into the mansion like she owned the place and bore down on DeClerc like an armored cavalry charge. He was a short, pudgy man with an oily complexion and poor taste in clothes. Nevertheless, Anna complimented him on
his beautiful mansion with its magnificent grounds and stupendous setting, praised him for his simply splendid security, absolutely insisted that the guard sergeant was to be commended for his devotion for duty and utmost caution, and then, just as her speech threatened to bury the poor vampire in honeyed platitudes, her voice snapped out like a whip crack.

“
How
dare
you, sir?”

Everyone else jumped about a foot off of the ground. My team snapped their weapons up, covering the angles. Only I had the true target, though. The vamp in the white suit had been studying us and, according to the subtle flickers of power in his eyes, had sought to test Anna.

“This one,” she declared in a voice of steel, pointing a finger like Kitchener's, “was attempting to probe the minds of my men.”

My
men, she had said, implying more than she said. DeClerc's lips twitched into a brief, lecherous smile before his face registered the shock of what had happened.

“
I assure you, dear lady, that he was only concerned for my well-being.”

“
That does not give him an excuse to violate those bonded to me,” she said in a cold whisper.

Anna was a baby by vampire standards, but I do know that she practiced her abilities on a daily basis. She had trained almost every Ministry hunter in resisting vampiric mind control. What she lacked in years she made up for in experience. She may not have been a match for the vampire in terms of power but she had him beaten hands-down in skill. There was a brief, electric exchange between the two and the vamp staggered back a step before crumpling to the ground. He curled up into a ball, making whimpering noises. DeClerc stood up, his face ashen and his expression stunned.

Anna drew in a long breath through her nose and a sunny smile returned to her face.

“
I do not hold you responsible for his actions,” she said to DeClerc.

“
The lady is generous,” he said with an attempt at a courtly bow. “His life is, of course, yours.”

“
I will not sully my hands with such as he,” she declared, dismissing the vamp with a wave of her hand. “But if he crosses me again I will give him to my wolf to eat.”

I was pleased that Cam chose to maintain his stoic demeanor, rather than treating the moment as an excuse for a Hollywood-style—oh, the cliché, it
burns
—wolfish grin.

The tension in the room was palpable and I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. From the second we'd pulled up outside this house I had been acutely aware that we were stepping into a world of shit. We were surrounded by enemies who could read most of my team like they were a Sunday tabloid.

“Well,” said Anna looking around the room. “If the boys have finished being terribly impressive and fierce, perhaps I can be shown to your guest quarters.”

We cautiously lowered our weapons once it became clear that the house guards weren't going to try anything.

“By all means, dear lady,” said DeClerc, slowly regaining his composure. Clearly the vampire currently laying on the floor and struggling to breathe had been something of a big man in the household. “And considering that dear Gilbert—” he pronounced it
Jill-bear
, “—is indisposed I shall show you myself.”

He stepped around the stricken Gilbert and rather awkwardly offered Anna his arm, which she pointedly ignored.

“Lead the way, good sir,” she said.

DeClerc managed to avoid looking offended at the snub and led us through a pair of ornate carved wooden doors into a corridor. Any windows that might have made the place light and airy were presumably behind the heavy wine-colored curtains that ran along one side. The corridor was lit by what appeared to be old gaslights, but as we passed the first I could see the flickering light inside wasn't gas in a glass chimney but rather an electric filament in a bulb. Full marks for ambiance but nothing for authenticity. Not that I cared, I wasn't here to critique his interior design. I was studying the place, picking up clues. DeClerc wanted his mansion to look like it was out of Victorian England, but he wasn't above achieving the effect with modern technology. That meant we probably wouldn't be looking at portraits with the eyes cut out as a means of spying on us. I would have swept for electronic surveillance anyway but it was nice to get confirmation.

The corridor ended at a series of doors. According to the monologue kept up by our host, we were entering the guest wing, which was actually the oldest part of the entire mansion, the rest having been badly damaged in a fire back in nineteen-I-really-didn't-care-enough-to-listen. There was a proud boast that some President and First Lady had once slept here when campaigning. I was only keeping half an ear on the vampire's litany of what were probably lies. I solidly approved of the way the corridor was set up, from a security perspective. The corridor was wide enough for four people to walk down but it was long and straight. Nobody would be sneaking up on anyone standing guard outside the rooms.

DeClerc stopped in front of one of the doors and nodded politely.

“All of the rooms in this wing are for available for your use for as long as you need them. If you should need anything simply ring the bell and one of the servants will attend to your needs.”

'Chief' Bolt indicated the door we were stood nearest with his
head and I went through, closely followed by Cam.

Anna remained outside chatting amiably with the vamp whilst we gave the room a visual inspection. It was large, airy, comfortable, and furnished with pieces that were either original antiques or clever reproductions. I couldn't tell and I didn't care. We spread out and moved from room to room. The windows were
covered by heavy curtains and, even if one threw the curtains back, were nicely tinted with, presumably, a UV-reducing coating. I'd already spotted a few high corners and dark vents, perfect hiding places for hidden cameras. No matter. Loki had the equipment I'd asked him to pick up.

Whatever conversation had been going on between Anna and DeClerc had obviously ended. I heard the door click shut behind John as our vampire mistress strode across the room.

I gave Loki a nod. He opened the case he was carrying and took out a pair of specialized frequency scanners. He tossed one to me and we began to sweep the room. We were looking for tell-tale electromagnetic fields that might indicate hidden microphones or cameras. Then we swept each room with a sensitive IR scanner, looking for suspicious heat signatures that might indicate power sources. John and Steph were checking under and around furniture, looking for anything they could physically see. Electronic gadgets and gizmos are useful tools, but they are tools nonetheless. Sometimes you can't beat getting down on your hands and knees and actually
looking.

Anna, in keeping with her adoptive persona, was sitting in one of the wing-back chairs, watching our efficient movements with a clear expression of boredom on her face. That changed when John pulled an object from under a highly polished side-table. It was a small disc of circuit board with several components soldered to its surface. A pair of wires led to a battery pack the size of a disposal cigarette lighter.

It was a bug—a listening device—and it was almost a Hollywood parody of itself. I couldn't help but think that visitors were supposed to find that one.

Anna took the device and held it up to her face.

“I appreciate the need for security,” she said into the tiny microphone, “but I do not appreciate being spied upon.”

With that she calmly snapped the wires and dropped the two halves back onto the side table.

Over the next thirty minutes we found four more bugs—each more advanced and better concealed than the one John had found—and two cameras scattered around the sitting room. We swept each of the bedrooms over and over before concluding that they were not under observation. Eventually, satisfied that there was no more electronic surveillance, we sat down whilst Anna verified that there was no human—or vampire—surveillance around us.

She sat in her chair, hands folded primly in her lap, her eyes closed, a tiny frown of concentration furrowing her brow.

“I have two werewolves outside,” she whispered, “And—”

“
And?” said John.

She opened her eyes and looked around the room.

“I can't sense Jack because of what he is. I do sense Loki, John and Bolt.”

She turned her head to look at Steph.

“I can't sense you, either.”

“
I'm sorry?” said Steph.

“
Jack, she's like you. She's a—whatever you are.”

“
What's that supposed to mean?” asked Steph tartly.

“
Jack's not human,” said Anna.

“
Whoa, whoa, that's a bit much,” I protested. “'Not human'? I think you're leaping to a conclusion.”

“
Jack, I know what a human feels like and you're not in that category.”

“
Excuse me?” said Steph. “What do you mean by 'not human'?”

“
She's exaggerating,” I said.