Killian was relieved when it was finally time for them to move. Rhiannon insisted on coming with them, despite her fear of another shark attack. She owed Charlie, she kept saying. And besides, there was a girl on that ship, an innocent, monster child that needed rescuing.
Roland was supportive of her decision, even encouraging of it, and insisted he would be fine now, that the blood he’d imbibed was restoring him more with every passing minute. And yet he was frustrated, wondering what good he was to anyone right then.
The three vampires slipped into the water, dove deep, then shot through the Pacific like missiles toward their target. Killian and Devlin each had a harpoon gun. Rhiannon said she didn’t need one.
Killian emerged from the waves near the starboard side of the large ship, far enough away that he could see the two men far above, patrolling that side. He could also see Rhiannon, near the ship’s bow, climbing the slick hull like a drenched and angry spider, her long black hair dripping water down her back. He had no idea how the hell she was doing that.
He aimed his harpoon gun at the hull, about midway between the two soldiers up there, and let fly. The spear sailed, dragging its rope behind it like a comet’s tail, and embedded itself in the ship with a dull “thunk” only a few yards below the rail. Killian swam closer to the vessel’s side and began climbing the rope. He used his feet on the ship’s slick hull to help push him, pulling himself higher. He reached the top, the harpoon gun still in hand, wrested the harpoon from the hull, and reloaded it, minus the rope this time. Gripping the bottom rung of the rail right in between two lifeboats, he pulled himself up high enough to see the man near the stern, leveled the harpoon gun and crept closer. But he didn’t fire. He reached the fellow without being seen, snatched a flotation ring hanging from the rail and moved closer. Then he lowered the ring over the guy’s head, pinning his arms to his sides, and bending, sank his teeth deeply into his throat. He drank rapidly and deeply, until his victim lost consciousness in his arms, and then lifted his head and tossed him right over the side.
He watched the man fall, saw him hit the water, and opened his mind to gauge his condition. He was unconscious, but still alive. Meanwhile, his blood was coursing through Killian’s veins, strengthening him, giving him energy and vigor he hadn’t had enough of before.
The second man was still gazing out to sea as if nothing had happened. He hadn’t heard a thing. He shook a cigarette loose from a pack, lit it and stood there smoking for a moment. Odd, how they were dressed. Not in military garb, but more like paid assassins. Mercenaries, maybe.
Killian waited until the smoking man turned to pace along the deck and was just about to go after him, when, as if sensing something, the thug turned. He spotted Killian and opened his mouth to shout and alert the others to his presence. Killian moved too fast for that, though, so fast that to the human, it probably looked as if he’d disappeared, and reappeared right in front of him. Toe to toe.
He clapped a hand over the smoker’s mouth, bent his head, sideways, and once again, sank his teeth deep and drank in the power, along with a hit of nicotine. When this one passed out, he put a floatation ring around him and threw him overboard to join his comrade.
Two down.
He headed to the bow of the ship to see how Rhiannon was faring, and found her just as she lifted her head from a dead man’s throat, licked her lips, and tossed his spent body over the side.
He was still staring at her in a mixture of awe and horror when Devlin came from the other side. “I took out the two on my side and one in the bow.”
“Don’t kill any more unless you have to,” Killian said.
Devlin looked at Rhiannon. She rolled her eyes. “No wonder Roland likes him. He’s got that same irritating sense of honor. By the Gods, it’s maddening.”
It sounded like a slam but felt like a compliment. There was no time to analyze or ask, because she went on. “Devlin, your people are likely far below, possibly on what I believe is the lowermost deck. There’s a room with an arena. A sliding door in one side raises up. That seems to be where they were keeping the girl-creature captive. It stands to reason other prisoners would be held in the same area. Particularly if they’ve been brought aboard for her...training.” Rhiannon pulled her hair around to one side and wrung the seawater from it. “Where is Charlotte?”
“I don’t know,” Killian said. “Haven’t heard from her in a while.”
“Below decks, then,” Rhiannon said. “Where the telepathy is blocked.”
“What’s our next move?” Devlin asked.
Killian swallowed hard. “We find Charlie. We find her mother. We find your people and the girl Rhiannon saw, and then get all of us the hell out of here.”
Devlin looked at Rhiannon. She lowered her head, sighed, but nodded.
“What?” Killian asked. “What am I missing?”
“They’re not going to let us off this ship, Killian. And even if they did, we haven’t the means to rescue that many people and get them all safely back to the fishing boat. Especially Charlie’s mother, a mortal, and that child, whatever she is.”
“What option do we have?” he asked.
“We can’t leave anyone alive,” Rhiannon said softly. “I know it goes against your sensibilities, but we’re at war. We wipe them out, and we take this ship.”
He shook his head. “I’m not killing anyone unless I have to.”
Devlin clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “You do have to. All of them. No mercy. This has to end. Using The Chosen as guinea pigs, as weapons against us? You think it will stop if we leave any of them alive, Killian? We need to wipe them out.”
“All we need to do is get the innocent out of here and escape alive,” he said again. “And right now, all I need to do is find Charlie.”
Commandant Crowe stayed, but the others left as soon as they had her strapped down. Dr. Deathly, which was a far more fitting name than Mariner, not to mention it was the one she’d got used to calling him, leaned in so close she could smell his breath.
“Now, you need to stay calm, Charlotte,” the doctor was saying. “I can’t inject you with the Protectol or the results of my testing will be skewed. So I want you to breathe deeply and evenly, and try not to get upset.”
“I’ve been taken prisoner by a bunch of armed goons, strapped down to a table and now you’re going to experiment on me like a lab rat. And I’m not supposed to get upset?” She didn’t bother telling him his testing was already screwed, since she’d had a half dose of Protectol only an hour ago.
The doctor lifted his brows. “I’m not going to harm you. But you must understand, what we can learn from you could help thousands born with your unfortunate condition.”
“Help them how? Like you helped my comrades? By killing them? No way. No fucking way.” She thrashed and tugged at her bindings, deliberately breathing hard and making it clear that calm was not an option.
“Charlotte, you’ll only hurt yourself. Your heart–”
“Let it explode! At least I get to go out fighting!” She twisted from side to side, lifting her shoulders one at a time from the table, then arching her back, flipping like a fish on dry land.
Crowe put his hand on her chest and flattened her back to the table. “You will calm yourself down and cooperate, Charlotte.”
“No I fucking won’t!” she shouted. Because she needed them to play their trump card. If Protectol would skew their results then so, she guessed, would that tranq they were threatening her with. So they’d have to use something else to force her cooperation. “I’d rather die than help you bastards!”
“Would you rather your mother die?” Commandant Crowe asked.
She stopped struggling and glared at him. “My mother’s already dead. You should know, you murdered her.”
Looking so smug she wanted to tear his face off, Crowe said, “You spoke to her. Lieutenant Townsend said–”
“Lieutenant Townsend is a liar, and that phone call was a cheap trick. I’m not an idiot.”
br />
Shrugging, Crowe went to a telephone on the wall, picked it up and spoke into it. “Bring Trish O’Malley to Infirmary Two.”
He hung up again without waiting for a reply, then went to the giant mirror on the wall and pushed a button. The mirror faded, becoming a window instead, and she could see another exam room just like this one, but empty.
Seconds ticked by. And then that other room’s door opened, and a blond woman was shoved through. She stumbled and fell to her knees, unable to catch herself with her hands tied behind her back. But then she sat up again, scuttling into a corner, lifting her head, looking fearfully around.
“Mom,” Charlie whispered.
Her mother looked terrified. She had a bruise on one cheek and a swollen lower lip. Her hair was a wild, tangled mess. But it was her. It was her mother. She was alive.
Tears burned in Charlie’s eyes. She blinked them back, but they spilled anyway.
“Now I think you can see your position a bit more clearly, recruit,” said Commandant Crowe. “You’ll follow orders, or we’ll hurt your mother. You don’t want that, do you?”
She shook her head. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my mother safe,” she said, and she looked at the man, looked into his eyes. His living, lying, evil eyes. And she said, “Unfortunately, that means I have to kill you both.”
He frowned. Charlie flexed one arm and snapped the strap holding it. She grabbed Crowe by the throat before he even knew what was happening. He clawed at her small hand with his, but she ripped the other arm free and sat up, grabbing him with both now.
The doctor scrambled, opening a cabinet, grabbing for a needle, a vial. His hands were shaking, his tranquilizer gun standing in the corner, forgotten. He was in a panic. Charlie crushed the commandant’s larynx and dropped him to the floor, then reached down to rip the straps from around her ankles.
Just as the doctor came at her with a loaded syringe, she hopped off the table and grabbed him up by his wrist, squeezing until his bones snapped. The syringe fell. She caught it in her other hand, turned it toward him.
“No, no, please, it’ll kill me. It’s too big a dose for an ordinary–”
She jammed the needle into his neck, depressed the plunger, and he sank to the floor. “What the fuck were you planning to do with my ova, you amoral bastard?”
He didn’t answer, already out. Dead, maybe. Furious, Charlie picked up the stool he’d been sitting on and hurled it through the glass of the two-way mirror, then jumped through behind it, avoiding the broken shards and landing on her knees in front of her mother.
“Charlie?” The way she was looking at her, Charlie would’ve thought her mom barely recognized her, and she couldn’t imagine why. She didn’t look any different.
She grabbed her mom by the shoulders. “Get up, turn around,” she said, moving her mother where she wanted her instead of waiting. But before she could untie her, the door burst open and two armed men came in.
Charlie reacted instantly, moved her mother behind her, and kicked the gun right out of one guy’s hand as he aimed it at her. She let the momentum of the kick carry her around, grabbed the stool on the way, and came the rest of the way swinging it at the other one’s head.
As he fell, out cold, she picked up the dropped gun, pointed it at the first attacker. He backed up, shaking his head, hands up in surrender.
She leveled the gun at his head.
“Charlie, no!” Trish shouted, drawing Charlie’s eyes her way.
He used her distraction to pull his gun and fire, but Charlie saw the movement from the corner of her eye and rocked sideways, lifting her gun and firing back. His shot hit her in the shoulder and hurt like hell. Hers went right between his eyes.
And then she stood there, looking at the two men on the floor, one dead, one unconscious. Two more dead men on the other side of that broken two way mirror. She’d killed three people, and the shock of that was rippling through her soul, thick and black and leaving its stain forever.
“I didn’t have a choice,” she whispered, but it didn’t wipe that stain away.
She closed the door, turned to her mother. “Turn around.” Her voice sounded hard and cold.
Trembling and wide-eyed, Trish turned around, and Charlie untied her hands. Then she spun back, and threw her arms around her, holding her hard. “Charlie, Charlie, baby, I’m so glad you’re all right. God, where did you learn how to fight like that?”
“They taught me.” Charlie hugged her back, but only briefly.
“C’mon.” Charlie pulled free, wiped her eyes. “We don’t have time for this. Later, Mom.”
Her mother frowned. “Charlie, are you okay? You’re...you’re different.”
“Yeah. I’m different.” She led her mother back through the broken glass into the treatment room and avoided looking at the two dead men on the floor. “Grab some gauze and shit and let’s get out of here.”
Nodding rapidly, her mother opened cabinets, grabbed handfuls of supplies, then finally noticed Charlie’s wounded shoulder. “You’re bleeding!”
“Don’t panic. I’m okay, Mom.” She took some of the cotton, wadded it up and crammed it into the bullet hole, wincing. Her mother wrapped some tape around it, and Charlie put a hand over hers to keep her from trying to apply another layer. “We have to move. Now.”
Nodding, still looking worried as hell, Trish followed Charlie out the door and into the hall. She didn’t know whether to go left or right, so she went right and thought as hard as she could, Killian! Where are you?
Killian heard Charlie’s call, but just barely. He stopped what he was doing. He, Rhiannon and Devlin had already descended to the lower decks and were currently crouching in some kind of observation deck overlooking an arena far below. The door was open into the hallway behind him, so he stepped through it, held up a hand for silence, and focused on Charlie. Where are you?
Deck Three. The hall outside the medical unit. You?
They were both in the hallways, and there were no closed doors between them. No walls lined with whatever technology DPI used to construct thought-proof barriers.
Deck Six. Way below you, but also in the hallway. That must be why we can communicate.
I have my mother. We’re heading topside. I need to get her out of here.
I’m on my way, Charlie. Wait for me.
He turned to Rhiannon and Devlin, who were looking at him expectantly. “Charlie’s on Deck Three, and she has her mother,” he told the other two. “I think she’s hurt, but she didn’t say. I felt it.”
“Go after her, then,” Devlin said. “I need to try to find my people.”
“And I, the girl,” Rhiannon said. “We’ll join you as soon as we can, Killian. Be careful.”
Rhiannon pointed downward at the arena below them, returning her attention to Devlin. “Those panels in the wall open upwards. That’s where the girl came from. I got the impression they were using me as some kind of training lesson for the child.”
“A vampire for her to kill.”
“Precisely.”
“Apparently, they didn’t know just what vampire they had.”
“They will now,” she said.
Devlin jumped from the viewing deck and landed on the floor of the arena below.
“Go to her, Killian,” Rhiannon said. “Devlin and I will meet you on the upper deck.” And then she jumped, too.
Shaking his head in frustration, Killian went back the way he had come, waiting for another message from Charlie, but not getting one.
Charlie led her mother along the hall, up a set of stairs, but there were men on the landing. They saw her, raising their weapons before she had a chance to lift her own. They had the drop on her, point blank too.
“Just why are you standing there blocking the passage like a bunch of raw recruits?”
That voice came from right behind her, and it belonged to LT. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing there with his sidearm fully loaded, she hoped
, in his hand.
She met his eyes, smiled a little in gratitude. He almost winked but not quite.
“Well?” he demanded. “Get the hell out of the way. Can’t you see our most important prisoner is injured?”
“But sir, the infirmary is–”
“I know where the infirmary is! She needs help we don’t have down there. Get your asses to the commandant’s office for new orders. Pronto!”
The men looked at each other, shrugged, and moved out of the way, hurrying back along the corridor.
“You’re hurt,” he told Charlie.
“Yeah, I’m aware of that.” She gripped her mother’s arm and headed up the final flights to the main deck.
“She was shot,” her mother said. “She’ll bleed to death. We need to stop it.”
“It’s fine, Mom,” Charlie told her. “We’ve slowed it down. Stopped it, maybe.” They emerged onto the main deck and looked around. It was still deserted. Of course it was deserted, it was the middle of the night. “There,” she said. “We’ll take one of those lifeboats.”
The three of them ran to the nearest lifeboat, suspended just off the deck in a sling. Following the ropes and pulleys with her eyes, Charlie spotted the lever that would release the lifeboat into the sea. “Climb inside, Mom. Hurry. You too, LT.”
“I’m not leaving you, Charlie!” Her mother grabbed her shoulders and held on. “You have to come too, you’re hurt.”
A herd of men were thundering up the stairs. “Mom, if you don’t hurry, you’ll get us all killed. Now go!”
Her mother climbed into the boat, probably too shocked by Charlie’s tone of command to do otherwise.
“You want to make up for what you did to me, LT?” Charlie asked. “Then get my mother the hell out of here.” She shoved him so hard he flipped over into the launch, because men were spilling onto the deck, surging her way. She lunged for the lever, hitting it as she flew past and then sliding across the deck. The ropes whirred like dragon-sized mosquitos, and she heard the splash when they stopped and hoped the little boat had stayed upright.
Its motor started up, and it sped away. Hearing that flooded Charlie with relief as she pushed herself up from the deck. Her hand slipped in her own blood. Hell, Trish had been right about that, hadn’t she? The bandage job hadn’t been good enough to stop it.
“That’s far enough, lady.”
She lifted her head and realized that she was completely surrounded.
“Okay, okay, easy now,” she said. “Your people want me alive, and I’m bleeding out, here.”
“Shove the gun away from you and put your hands up.”
She shoved the gun across the deck toward the men, and held her hands up as best she could, still lying on her chest. It was over, unless someone showed up to help her, and soon. Killian, the deck’s crawling with assholes. Don’t come up here alone.
Devlin and Rhiannon smashed through one of the two panels in the wall. As soon as they did, Rhiannon felt a rush of sensations. Every mental impulse that had been blocked from her before now came flooding into her mind. So many thoughts, feelings. So much anguish! So many vampires!
There were two rows of cells on either side of a long hallway. At the end of the hallway was a black steel door, and she felt the crackling energies of something awful beyond it.
As she hurried forward, though, she felt more and stopped to pay attention to what was all around her—the vampires in the cells on either side of this hallway.
One vampire in particular. One she knew very well.
“Reaper?” she asked, turning in the direction where she felt him and meeting his eyes. Then she raced toward him.
“Rhiannon, wait–”
She gripped the bars of his cell. A powerful jolt rocketed through her body, launching her across the hall, so that her back slammed into the cells on the other side, and they jolted her too. She found herself face down in the center of the floor. Pushing herself up, she lifted her head and looked at him and then around him. Five cells on each side of the hall. A half dozen or more vampires in each one. More than just the fifteen who’d been with Devlin.
Devlin knelt beside her, gripping her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
She was shaking all over from the blast of electricity, but she nodded. “We have to find a way to shut it off,” she said.
“There’s control panel at the end of the hall, Rhiannon,” Reaper called. His deep voice was familiar, but it lacked its former power. And as she looked up, she saw his young friend Seth standing at his side.
She scanned the cells in search of others she might know, but most of the vampires were strangers to her. Many of them fledglings, barely months Undead.
“Where is Briar?” she asked. “And Vixen and the others?”
“We don’t know,” Seth said. “We haven’t heard from Jack or Topaz in months. Briar and Vixen were captured with us, but they took them somewhere else. We don’t know where.”
“We can talk about all of this later, Rhiannon,” Reaper said. “The control panel is back there.” He nodded in the direction he meant.
Devlin let go of Rhiannon and ran that way. Trying to shake off the effects of the jolt, Rhiannon got slowly to her feet and watched him. He opened a small metal door, looked inside for a moment, and then pulled a lever.
The sounds of locks disengaging echoed in the cavernous space. The wall panel they’d broken through to get in here started to raise, only to get itself stuck partway, due to the damage they’d done to it. And the cell doors all slid open.
“We have friends in trouble above,” Devlin said. “Come, all of you.” He turned to run back the way they had come.
As the vampires surged from their cells, a river of them flowing toward the broken panel and through it, Reaper came to Rhiannon, put a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. If you’re weak from the jolt, I’ll help you.”
She met his eyes, shook her head. “I can’t join them. Not yet.” And she looked toward the black metal door.
Reaper looked as well, and with a deep breath that sounded like one of regret, he said, “Are you sure you want to see what’s in there, Rhiannon?”
“No,” she said softly. “But I’m sure I have to.”
Chapter Twenty-Four