Nancy Haddock [Oldest City 02] Last Vampire Standing (v5.0) (lit)

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We were headed out the door at eight fifteen when Candy called. Saber took the
call with the speaker feature on as we hustled to the car.
Vlad s dead, she said tersely. He was startin to look ill, so we decided
to move him while he slept. Son of a bitch woke up, broke out of the building,
and ran into the sun. He fried before we could put out the fire.
I shuddered and blocked the scene my imagination conjured.
So much for getting his cooperation.
We lost the offshore account, too. It was closed at the last minute
yesterday.
Did the investigators get enough to trace it?
I m not sure yet, but the whole thing with Vlad is buggin me. He seemed to
weaken and age while we had him in custody.
I immediately thought of Rico, the black fog Void sucking his life force.
You two have any idea why that would happen?
He was being energy drained, I told her as we reached Saber s car.
How is that possible? We didn t let anyone near him.
You didn t have to, I said. Something is getting to vamps wherever they
are.
What?
I looked at Saber, waited for him to tell her, but he shook his head.
Candy, our intel on this isn t confirmed. We ll do some checking and call you
later.
All right, but keep me in the loop.
Saber disconnected and faced me. You okay about Vlad going up in flames?
It s gross, but the real question is how he awoke in the first place.
The Void gave him a super shot of energy?
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I don t want to think about it.
But I couldn t help it, and my jumpy feelings shifted into overdrive as we
sped through traffic to the island.
My nerves frayed to shreds when we found the parking lot near full but
strangely quiet. No smokers stood outside as they had last time. And then we
spotted Pandora in her house-cat form waiting at the club door.
The vampires you seek are inside. Go quickly. Help is waiting.
Stark fear ripped though me, and Pandora sprinted around the building before I
finished relaying her message to Saber.
Do you think Laurel and Marco have killed everyone? I whispered.
No, but they re holding a hundred or more hostages we have to keep alive.
Please let them be in thrall.
Amen. He drew his Glock, held it by his thigh, and reached for the huge
half-moon door handle.
I gripped his cast to stop him. Wait. Do we have a plan?
We take whatever help is waiting, and we end it.
That s the whole plan?
Honey, vamps don t do hostage negotiation. We know the basic layout of the
building. I ll take the first clear shots I have, and you wing it for all
you re worth.
Wing it, right.
He pulled the heavy door open, and we stepped from the lights of the street
into the dim club foyer. The smell hit me first. Not death. A sweet orange
tang that clogged my throat.
I glanced at Saber. Mouth clamped tight, he jerked his chin. Move , I heard
him say in my head.
I stutter-stepped, then stopped, eyes on Saber s face. I hadn t really heard
him, had I? I d read him. Had to. I didn t have time for another shock now.
I eased into the club proper, Saber at my back, dread fisting tighter in my
chest with each shallow breath. I scanned the humans frozen in place, figures
in a wax museum. Grateful the thrall left them senseless, I edged deeper into
the bodies suspended in time.
Sudden movement on the stage drew my attention, and a man stepped into the
glare of two spotlights.
No, not a man.
The monster from my past. The vampire I d convinced myself was dead.
Marco S�nchez.
Everything stilled in me. Blood. Breath. Life.
However he had disguised himself in Atlanta, tonight he d stripped his mask.
Midnight black hair the color of his soul. Dark, cruel eyes with the same
glint of evil glee I remembered.
He stood on the stage dressed entirely in black, brandishing a short sword
that flashed silver in the spotlights. As I watched, he paused, shielded his
eyes, and made a pretense of seeing me.
Ah, Francesca, Princess of the House of Normand, he said with a mocking bow.
Welcome to my little reunion soiree.
His voice made every drop of blood in my body go icy, but I controlled a
shudder and looked at the others on the stage. Just out of the glare of the
spotlights. Jo-Jo slumped in a chair, his hands bound behind him, Donita
kneeling at his feet. She didn t seem to be harmed, but neither did she seem
completely in thrall. Shock waves of terror quivered from her.
Another female hunched across the stage floor from Donita. Laurel.
Half-clothed, a grotesque tattoo of burn marks on her bare arms, and an oozing
slash on her upper chest. She still wore Saber s silver handcuffs and cowered
beside Marco, yet her eyes flashed with rage.
Now, now, Francesca, Marco chided. Is this any way to greet an old friend?
Come closer.
I turned to Saber, but he was frozen, too. My heart seized.
Do not look to your tame mortal for help, Francesca, Marco said silkily. He
will do as I tell him. Shall I demonstrate? You, throw down your weapon.
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Saber complied, but I saw the spark in his eyes and remembered. He was immune
to enthrallment. Playing along.
Wing it. I ll move in when you distract him.
A rush of relief made tears prickle my eyes. Then Marco ruined the moment.
Francesca, my love. I will let them all live if you will come to me.
Manipulative hell spawn. He gave me no choice.
Raw nerves scraped against each other as I moved toward the stage, picking my
way through standing waiters and seated patrons, all in suspended animation.
Thankfully, the thrall over everyone in the club save Donita and Saber seemed
total.
Don t pull anything funny, Laurel warned.
Marco laughed. What can she do, you stupid bitch? My Francesca was ever a
pathetic excuse for a vampire. She missed being human, but was too much the
good girl to end her life.
I winced at the truth.
See how she cringes at my barb? She is still the same, oblivious to her
powers, or she would have known I had a spy watching her.
I cut my gaze to Jo-Jo, and Marco laughed again.
Laurel was the spy, not Jo-Jo.
Focus, honey, Saber said in my head. Play him.
I fought to wet my dry mouth and scrambled for something to say as I neared
the base of the stage.
If Laurel is your little fanged friend, why have you tortured her? And what
is with that orange smell?
He gave me a venomous grin. You insulted me in the old days when you said my
scent offended you.
Everything about Marco offended me, but I flashed to the last time I d seen
him. He d been a vampire for more than three years, yet his body held the odor
of cumin and datil peppers, the spices his mother had used to cook, the smell
that permeated his home. Marco sweated the smell before he was turned, and it
lingered after.
Ah, I see you recall. Sadly, I am still afflicted with my own signature [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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