“If your mother is to be processed, she will be. You have no say in the matter. They probably picked her up already and she is on her way to be cleaned up. Your life, however, is still a bargaining chip. Hope you cash it in.”
Now she had the shank in her hand. She gripped it.
“Is that understood?” he said.
“Understood,” she said through gritted teeth.
“You will need to come with a much more agreeable attitude when I do call for you, so please be ready. And smile.”
She wanted to fucking kill him where he stood.
From the outer office, his assistant’s panicked voice broke the mood. “Sir?”
Barnes stepped away before Nora could act, returning to the anteroom alone.
Nora heard the footsteps charging up the stairs. Slapping at the floor: bare feet.
Vampire feet.
A team of four large-framed, once-male vampires burst into the office. These undead goons wore tribal prison-style tattoos on their sagging flesh. The assistant gasped and backed away into her corner as the four went right after Barnes.
“What is it?” he said.
They told him, telepathically—and fast. Barnes barely had time to react before they grabbed his arms and practically picked him up, running him out the door and away down the hall. Then the camp whistle started shrieking.
Shouting outside. Something was happening. Nora heard and felt the vibration of doors slamming downstairs.
The assistant remained in the corner, behind her desk, the phone to her ear. Nora heard hard footsteps charging up the stairs. Boots equaled humans. The assistant cowered while Nora moved to the door—just in time to see Fet rushing inside.
Nora was struck speechless. He carried his sword but no other weapons. His face was wild with the look of the hunt. A grateful, openmouthed smile appeared on her face.
Fet glanced at Nora and then at the assistant in the corner, then turned to leave. He was back out the door and almost out of sight around the corner before he stopped, straightened, and looked back.
“Nora?” he said.
Her baldness. Her jumpsuit. He hadn’t recognized her at first.
“V,” she said.
He gripped her, and she clawed at his back, burying her face in his smelly, unwashed shoulder. He pulled her off him for a second look, at once exulting in his great luck in finding her and trying to make sense of her shaved head.
“It’s you,” he said, touching her scalp. Then he looked over the rest of her. “You…”
“And you,” she said, tears springing from the corners of her eyes.
He embraced her again. More bodies followed behind him. Gus and another Mexican. Gus slowed when he saw Fet hugging a bald camp member. It was a long moment before he said, “Dr. Martinez?”
“It’s me, Gus. Is it really you?”
“
“What is this building?” asked Fet. “Administration or something? What are you doing here?”
For a moment, she couldn’t remember. “Barnes!” she said. “From the CDC. He runs the camp—runs all the camps!”
“Where the hell is he?”
“Four big vampires just came and got him. His own security force. He went that way.”
Fet stepped out into the empty hall. “This way?”
“He has a car out by the gate.” Nora stepped into the hallway. “Is Eph with you?”
A pang of jealousy. “He’s outside holding them off. I’d go after this guy Barnes for you, but we have to get back to Eph.”
“And my mother.” Nora gripped Fet’s shirt. “My mother. I’m not leaving without her.”
“Your mother?” said Fet. “She’s still here?”
“I think so.” She held Fet’s face. “I can’t believe you’re here. For me.”
He could’ve kissed her. He could have. Amid the chaos and the turmoil and the danger—he could’ve. The world had vanished around them. It was her—only her in front of him.
“For you?” said Gus. “Hell, we like this killing shit. Right, Fet?” His grin undercut his words. “We gotta get back to my homeboy Bruno.”
Nora followed them out the door, then abruptly stopped. She turned back to Carly, the assistant, still standing behind her desk in the far corner of the anteroom, the telephone in her hand hanging low at her side. Nora rushed back toward her, Carly’s eyes widening with fright. Nora reached across her desk, grabbing the rest of the brownie off its paper plate. She took a big bite and threw the rest at the wall next to the assistant’s head.
But in her moment of triumph, Nora felt only pity for the young woman. And the brownie didn’t taste anywhere near as good as Nora thought it would.
Out in the open yard, Eph hacked and swung, clearing as much space around himself as possible. Six feet was the outside limit for vampire stingers; the combined length of his arm and his sword gave him about that distance. So he kept slashing, carving out a six-foot-wide radius of silver.
