Kitty Steals the Show

Chapter 22

WE LEFT the highway and turned into a clutter of warehouses. This wasn’t the pretty postcard, touristy part of London. This was east of the city, along the river, past the bridges and castles and giant Ferris wheel and twenty-first-century development. London was still a busy international port, full of big steel warehouses, concrete docks, cranes, industrial sites, refineries. It seemed otherworldly, like we’d entered some industrial hell. A dystopian Terry Gilliam film.

Caleb switched off the headlights and stopped. Michael immediately left the car and trotted a ways out, turning between a pair of buildings.

“He’ll meet up with my scouts,” Caleb said.

“How many people do you have here?” Cormac asked.

“Two, plus Michael. Stealth will have to make up for numbers in this fight.”

Cormac made a noise, and I couldn’t tell if he was satisfied or not. Me, I always liked stealth. If we could sneak in, grab Tyler, sneak back out …

I didn’t expect it to be that easy.

The rest of us left the car and moved into the shadow of the nearest building, out of the streetlights. Cormac held an object hidden in his hand, some charm against the dark.

A container ship, a hulking form just visible between buildings, was docked some distance down. Tyler’s captors could load him onto such a ship from here, take him anywhere, and we’d never get him back.

“This isn’t a real good environment for us,” Ben said.

His nose was flaring, wrinkling as he took in the smells in the area—oil, fuel, concrete, steel. Nothing natural intruded. I thought I should have been able to smell the river, the rich waterway of the Thames, but the air in that direction smelled of oil and volatiles, tainted and poisonous. The only scent in the mix that even resembled nature was a trace of rat and pigeon droppings. An industrial lamp sent out a circle of light gone hazy in the mist. Over the course of the evening, the clouds had returned.

“Not our territory, not our habitat. It sucks,” I said.

“A dead zone to people like us. Another good reason to bring Tyler here. I’m surprised your fairies were able to find him,” Caleb said.

“We asked them to rescue him, but they couldn’t get this close,” I said. “Too much iron.”

We listened, tense and alert, all senses turned outward. I suddenly wished Cormac wasn’t here. If our enemies sent lycanthropes, if any of them bit him …

“All we need now is the zombie apocalypse,” Ben said.

“Zombies don’t exist,” I said. “Not that kind of zombie, anyway.”

“What?”

“The brain-eating zombie—those are movie zombies. They don’t exist. On the other hand, Haitian voodoo zombies totally exist.”

“How do you even figure these things out?” he said.

“Long story.”

“I guess so.”

Caleb raised a hand; I looked to see what had caught his attention. A short-haired woman, small and athletic, young and jumpy, approached. A werewolf, she seemed at ease in a tank top and shorts, even in the chill air.

“We think we found ’im, gov,” she whispered to Caleb. “Spotted their car.”

“Lead on, then,” he said, wearing a proud smile. “Jill has the best nose in the south of England.”

Single file, we followed her, winding a path among the buildings. Ben, I noticed, had moved to put Cormac between us. Maybe an inadequate shield, but a shield nonetheless.

We stepped slowly, carefully, wolves on the prowl, pausing often to survey the air. I couldn’t smell much besides oil, concrete, and our own party. A couple of times, Caleb signaled to his three scouts. Michael returned, paralleling us on a different path—keeping watch on Jill.

When Ben let out a stifled yell, we all dropped into defensive crouches.

“Where the fuck did you come from!” Ben hissed to the figure behind him.

“You ought to keep your voice down,” Ned said in a stage whisper.

He should have been almost an hour behind us. “Wait a minute. How—”

Ned put a finger over his mouth and shook his head.

“Not funny, Ned,” Caleb said, glaring.

The vampire said, “I brought half a dozen of my folk with me, along with Antony and Marid. Ought to help, don’t you think? I thought you’d be pleased.”

“Tell me you didn’t bring Emma,” I said in a sudden panic.

He had the grace to look startled. “Good God no, she’s just a child.”

He hadn’t put her in harm’s way yet, he wouldn’t start. The relief I felt at the news was painful.

“Anyone ever tell you you have a flair for the dramatic?” I said.

“Ha,” he answered flatly.

We moved on, and I wondered how much more of this exacting progress we had to make. Patience … if you waited long enough, still as a pond, the deer would come to you. For the fifth or sixth time, we paused at a corner to scout the lay of the land. The scouts returned to confer with Caleb. Jill said she thought Tyler was being kept in a building at the very end of the street. Ned, who remained like a statue, agreed with her. We still hadn’t met any guards or opposition, which was starting to make us all nervous. It was only a matter of time.

We should have expected it when a shot fired with an echoing crack.

“Aw, Jesus!” Michael stumbled and fell, clutching his shoulder. We pressed the wall.

He moaned around grit teeth. “Caleb, it’s silver, oh God—”

“Michael.” Caleb pulled his lieutenant into shelter with the rest of us. Jill and the second scout, Warrick, huddled together. A second shot fired, but no one cried out, so it must have missed.

“Silver bullets,” Ben hissed, and got in front of me, pushing me into a doorway. And Cormac got in front of him.

Wolf thrashed, beating herself against the bars of her cage, and I had to swallow her back, taking deep breaths to pull her inside. She wanted to run, to flee—it was the only response to such a deadly enemy. Get as far away from the silver as possible.

But we couldn’t do that. I huddled with Ben and tried to hang on to myself.

Michael let out an even more pain-racked groan and curled into a fetal pose. Caleb held tight to him, cradling him. He couldn’t do anything else. A very long time seemed to pass until Michael’s shivering stopped, until he was gone. Caleb, Warrick, and Jill all had hands on him, touching him, for his comfort and theirs, sending him on his way.

Ben found my hand and squeezed tightly. My other hand found Cormac’s arm. He stood before us both, a shield. He had a chance of surviving being shot with a silver bullet.

Only Ned seemed unconcerned, unaffected by the scene. He gazed out, and up. “I believe I see him. If you’ll excuse me.”

And he was gone. Just gone, like shadows vanish when the lights turn off. The scream came a scant moment later. I shivered.

We waited; I caught the touch of chill air the moment before he reappeared.

“There are four more of them watching the small warehouse on the next block. They’re human. Some brand of mercenary I should think. The warehouse is filled with heartbeats.”

Not vampires, then. “Whose mercenaries?” I whispered.

“I didn’t ask,” Ned said. “I thought we were in a hurry.”

“We are,” Caleb said, voice low, gravelly. “I’ll kill them all.”

“Leave them to us,” Ned said and paced away. I saw his retreat this time, or thought I did, until he disappeared into the next set of shadows.

Caleb’s expression was sour. I touched his shoulder, which was tense, hard as steel.

“They can stand up to silver bullets,” I said to Caleb. “Our job is finding Tyler.”

We should have been in forest, with familiar, earthy smells, trees blocking out the sky, the trails of our prey fresh as spring. Caleb said he’d show us where he and his wolves ran on full moon nights. After we got through all this, I’d take him up on the offer. It would feel like a vacation.

Carefully, cautiously, ducking around corners, constantly scanning our surroundings, we moved onward. I kept waiting for the sound of gunfire, knowing it would still startle me when it came, no matter how ready I thought I was to hear it.

“There,” Jill finally said, nodding to the next doorway. The building was low, only one story, made of prefab steel walls with a slanted roof. It might have been offices or storage. It didn’t seem to have windows.

I took a deep breath and still couldn’t smell Tyler.

We waited for what seemed a long time, but no guards appeared.

“Is it clear?” I asked.

Her eyes closed, Jill took a series of long, quiet breaths. “Two guys on the other side, I think. Human.”

“Armed with silver, no doubt,” Caleb muttered. “Door’s probably locked to boot. They’ll hear us coming no matter what.”

“There another way in?” I said.

“Other side,” Jill said. “But the SUV’s parked there. That door’s probably worse than this one.”

We still had no idea how many—or even what—we were facing here.

“I’ll go,” Cormac said, gathering himself to continue on.

“No,” Ben said.

I shook my head. “They’ll shoot you same as us.”

The hunter’s expression didn’t change. “We hit this door. I can give you maybe twenty seconds to get their guns away.”

“How?” Ben said.

“I’ll take care of it.”

I snorted. “Does Amelia have some hoopy spell for that?”

“I have lock picks. Amelia has the distraction. Assuming the wolf is right about there only being two guys.”

Caleb said, “Can you really get the lock?”

“What is it, a dead bolt? I think so.”

“Then Warrick and I will get the guards. You two”—he pointed at Ben and me—“stay put, cover our backs.”

Cormac nodded. “When I give you the signal, cover your eyes.”

I reached. “Wait a minute—” But the three of them moved off, and Ben held me back. It made sense from a tactical standpoint. Caleb and Warrick were bigger, tougher, and no doubt way more experienced fighters than we were. I still felt like I should have been the one on the front line.

“What’s he got planned?” Jill whispered. She was just a puppy—couldn’t have been more than twenty. She crouched, balancing on one hand, bouncing a little. I swore I saw the ghosts of pointed ears prick forward with interest.

“I don’t know,” I said.

Cormac pulled lock-picking tools from his jacket pocket. I winced—I could hear the scraping from here. The guards on the other side of the door would be waiting for them. They were all dead. I almost ran over and told him to stop, that we would find another way, that Tyler wouldn’t want anybody—anybody else—dying for him.

“Tell me he knows what he’s doing,” I whispered to Ben, who just shook his head.

Then Cormac nodded to Caleb and Warrick, who turned their heads, shading their eyes.

It happened quickly: Cormac kicked open the door, raised his hand, and a blinding white light flashed before him, floodlight bright, filling the room inside. The two werewolves rushed in. The sounds of fighting, a few meaty smacks, were brief. Cormac lowered his hand, closed his fist, and the light faded.

He may have picked the lock, but that spotlight spell was Amelia’s. The guards may have been waiting for someone to kick in the door, but they certainly hadn’t expected to be blinded in the next second.

“Brilliant!” Jill said. No pun intended, surely.

When Cormac looked back and waved, the three of us moved up to join him.

A single work lamp hung in the back of the room, giving off just enough light to see comfortably. The room was small, maybe the size of a garage, and might have been used for storage once. A few empty cardboard boxes lay around the periphery, along with some crumpled packing paper. Two men, hulking guard types in black fatigues, lay writhing on the ground. One of them was already tied, hand to foot, arms wrenched behind him, with what looked like nylon cord. Caleb stood on the second one’s neck while Warrick trussed him up—the cord looked like it came from the guy’s own pockets, part of his own inventory. That had to hurt.

Their guns, mean-looking assault rifles, were tossed aside, against a far wall. Cormac eyed them thoughtfully.

“Don’t even think about it,” Ben said.

Inside, the smells were clearer. People had been moving in and out of the warehouse all day. I caught a trace of lycanthrope—wild, wolfish—as well as the chill that meant vampires had been here. One of Ned’s spies? Or an enemy? The guards from the front of the warehouse must have heard us. They ought to be pounding through any minute. So where were they? Step by soft step, I moved to the next door against the opposite wall.

“Kitty!” Cormac hissed, and I held back.

“Warrick, watch them,” Caleb said, pointing to the guns. The werewolf picked one up and held it on the two mercenaries, who stopped squirming in their effort to loosen their bonds.

Cormac studied the door, its handle, and the crack of light between the frame. “It’s not locked.”

Jill came close and took another of her long, quiet breaths. “Werewolf—maybe your man. He’s not alone.”

Great. The other guards weren’t storming us—they were waiting for us to come to them. The next room was well lit—Cormac’s trick with the flare wouldn’t work again. Maybe we could rush them. Without getting shot.

This was why I preferred talking my way out of dodgy situations.

“Everyone take cover,” Cormac said, hand on the handle ready to pull it open. The rest of us stood against the walls, waiting. I watched him take a breath, then another. Counting to three. Then he swung back, pulling open the door.

Nothing happened.

Inching forward, I reached the edge of the door frame and very carefully leaned around to look. Ben held my arm, as if he could yank me back when the gunfire started.

The next room was like this one—concrete, abandoned. In the middle of it crouched Tyler, fully conscious, muscles tensed, ready to spring. Another black-garbed guard lay crumpled in the corner, knocked out, a bruise marring his slack face.

“Tyler!” I said, falling into the room.

For a short moment, his lips pulled back in a snarl, and his eyes gleamed. Then recognition flashed.

“Kitty,” he said and heaved an exhausted sigh, and I skidded to my knees on the concrete floor. I touched his arm, brushed my hand over his nearly bald head, and let him take in my scent. Anxiety eased out of him, and he leaned into me.

“They miscalculated the dose,” he said. “I don’t think I was supposed to wake up yet.”

“Do you know who did this?”

“Private security, decently trained.” Tyler nodded a greeting to Ben and Cormac. Caleb and Jill fanned through the room, standing watch, covering the doorway we’d come through, looking forward to the next one, leading to yet another room.

“The ringleaders are in there,” Tyler said, tipping his head to the door.

“How many?” Cormac asked.

“Three, I think. Human and vampire. I haven’t seen them since I woke up, and my nose isn’t working too well.”

Once again, we braced for the inevitable battle that would come swarming through the door any moment. It didn’t happen. It kept not happening. I couldn’t even hear anything in the next room.

They, whoever had taken Tyler, knew they were busted. They were fleeing, and if we waited, we’d lose them. I walked straight for the door, stalking like Wolf had cornered her prey.

“Kitty—” Cormac called after me.

“At least stand back when you open the door,” Ben said, rushing to join me. He got to the door first, gripping the handle ahead of me. “Ready?”

I stood on the other side of the door frame and nodded. He turned the handle, yanked open the door, and got out of the way.

We waited for a few breaths, a handful of heartbeats, and I tried to catch a scent of what was waiting for us inside. No gunfire responded, so Ben and I eased around the door frame.

Dr. Paul Flemming stood against the far wall, looking just like he did four years ago: thin, mousy, bureaucratic, with a well-worn jacket over nondescript shirt and trousers.

“You,” I hissed, and lunged.

Ben grabbed my arm, and I nearly wrenched it out of the socket trying to pull away. I didn’t care. Snarling, I charged again, flopping to try and break free from his grip. He used both hands and might have yelled at me to calm down, but I wasn’t listening. My vision, all my senses, had narrowed to a tunnel that focused on Flemming, and my mouth watered at the thought of putting my teeth around his throat. I had him, if my too-cautious mate would just let me go, I’d kill him—

“Look at that, she’s gone nonverbal. What the bloody hell did you do to her?” The British alpha stood at my other shoulder, and I growled at him, too.

Flemming had flattened himself against the steel wall and stared at me with white-rimmed eyes. Wasn’t so calculating now, was he? See how he did when I ran claws down his face—

Ben got in front of me and pressed. “Kitty, you’re not helping. Snap out of it before you lose it.” He put his face in front of mine, catching my gaze and projecting calm. I gave another halfhearted lurch to break out of his grip, but he was a wall. Settling slowly, I tried to unclench my hands. He moved aside, but kept his arm across me—just in case.

Finally, I looked at Flemming without losing my temper entirely.

“So,” I said, flatly as I could, to keep from yelling. “What’s your story this time? Got another silver-lined cell all set up? What were you going to do to him?”

His chin tipped up, an effort to stay calm. “I—I wasn’t going to hurt him.”

“Like you weren’t going to hurt me?”

“You weren’t hurt—”

I growled and lunged again—Ben caught me, like I knew he would. His voice in my ear was calm. “I’m going to call the police,” he said. “He’ll be extradited to the U.S. He’ll get what’s coming, okay?”

“Don’t,” Caleb said. “Don’t call them just yet. Not ’til we get what we need.” He had a curl to his lip.

Caleb and Cormac were in the room; Tyler was with Jill, who was helping him to his feet; Warrick stood guard behind us. We were three rooms in, and based on the size of the warehouse we had to be nearly at the other side. The next door should have been the last. It was open, just a crack.

Flemming eyed the cracked door, as if he thought he could make a run for it. He’d spent half his career studying werewolves; he had to know better than that. We fanned around him, wolves on the hunt. His breathing had become rapid.

“Where are the rest of the guards?” I asked.

“I—I don’t know. They’re supposed to be here—”

“Who’s really behind this, Flemming?” I said. “You didn’t get these resources on your own.”

The detritus here was different than in the other rooms. Instead of empty cardboard boxes, a couple of plastic crates were stacked in corners. A card table with several chairs around it showed the remains of an Indian takeout meal, wrapped in a plastic bag. I paced, to investigate. Flipping back the lid of one of the crates, I found coils of nylon cord, vials of clear liquid and tranquilizer darts, handcuffs that gleamed silver. Everything you’d need to catch and hold a werewolf. I shook my head at it all.

A black leather attaché case was shoved under the table. “Yours?” I said to him, kicking it. He’d taken on the aspect of a prisoner of war, his jaw clenched, silent.

I pulled it into the open and started digging.

Flemming actually had the nerve to reach. “You can’t—”

“We can make you disappear, if we like,” Caleb said cheerfully. Flemming slumped back to his place on the wall.

In the case’s outside pocket I found a bundle of standard-looking documents, forms with boxes to fill in with names, addresses, dates. Customs declarations, shipping manifests. Buried in the bottom of the pocket, I found a bundle of passports. I flipped through them quickly—three, including one for the U.S., were for Flemming alone. A British one had Tyler’s picture in it, but a different name. Probably to help smuggle him out of the country, and get him into another.

A name appeared over and over again on the paperwork—as a contact person, the owner of goods to be shipped, the authority by which money changed hands. I assumed it was Flemming’s alias. Except …

“Who is G. White?” I asked Flemming.

He swallowed hard, moving his lips as if preparing to speak. For all the good it would do him, surrounded by werewolves as he was. We could smell the lies.

Hand on chin, gaze thoughtful, Ben said, “Cormac … Amelia … check something for me: What’s the Latin word for white?”

“Albus,” Cormac said.

Couldn’t possibly be a coincidence … “Albus. Albinus. Gaius Albinus?” I murmured. “G. White, is that who you’re working for?”

Flemming said, “He’s a foreign investor, heads a private security firm. It’s perfectly normal—”

I said, “Have you met him? What’s he look like?”

“I don’t know why you’re asking—”

“Tell her,” Ben said.

“He … he’s about my height. Lean. Dark hair, close-cropped. He always wears a long dark coat—”

“Oh, my God,” Ben murmured.

It was Roman. I showed Flemming a mix of emotions, from rage to despair. “Do you have any idea who you’re working for?”

“I told you, a foreign investor—”

He had no idea.

“What would Roman want with Tyler?” Ben said.

“Ready-made werewolf soldier, trained in the American Special Forces. He’d be priceless,” I said. Gravity must have suddenly doubled, I felt so tired, so slow.

“Who’s Roman?” Tyler said. He’d come to stand in the doorway. “And why would he think I’d work for him?”

“He’s a vampire, a very old one,” I answered. “He wouldn’t need your cooperation, he’d just need you.” We hadn’t called the police yet. Surely Ben would let me at Flemming now. I said to him, “He conned you into recruiting for him—”

“He funded my research, that’s all—” Flemming said.

“And you still think it’s okay to kidnap werewolves for that research? Have you learned anything?”

“It’s necessary—”

“Bah.” I flung a hand at him and turned away. “You’d better call the cops in before I have a go at him.”

Ben already had his phone in his hand, but Caleb put his hand over it, lowering it from his ear.

“Give us a chance to get out,” Caleb said. “I don’t want to have to explain our handiwork to them. Not to mention Ned’s.”

“Ned probably owns the cops,” I muttered.

“Kitty?” Tyler said. “What’s it mean? What were they planning to do with me?”

I couldn’t even look at Flemming again, however much I wanted to scrutinize him, to get him to tell Tyler exactly what he’d planned. I’d lose my temper for sure. I said, “Use you, control you, throw you into battle. Make you train others. The same damn thing.”

“It’s an awful lot of trouble to go through,” Caleb said.

Maybe. But with Tyler’s training and expertise? He wasn’t just werewolf cannon fodder. In a fight, he was worth ten of the rest of us.

“Doesn’t matter now,” I said. “He’s in a lot of trouble back home.”

Flemming quailed, his voice trembling. “You won’t get away with this. I have friends—” The cliché must have come instinctively.

“Your G. White isn’t going to come save you,” I said. “Whoever your allies were in this, they’ve left you.”

Caleb went to the crate of equipment and drew out a pair of handcuffs. “I’ll truss him up a bit, so he doesn’t get the idea he can just walk out. Jill, we’ll go back and get Michael and bring the car ’round. Then we can call the cops.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Along with Ben and Cormac, Tyler and I moved to the door and waited. Cormac opened it wider, looking out. The SUV from the security footage was parked outside. A hundred yards away, lurking like a mountain in the dark, a freight ship was docked on the river. If they’d gotten him on there, Tyler would have just vanished.

Caleb left Flemming lying against the wall in handcuffs. The scientist seemed relieved, somehow, as if assured that the werewolves weren’t going to tear him apart on principle.

He caught me looking at him. “Who is Gaius Albinus?”

How to explain, in a sentence or less, without shouting? How to tell Flemming just how far in over his head he was without realizing it, so that I could savor his reaction? My lips turned in more of a sneer than a smile. “Dux Bellorum. Do you know what that means?”

“Leader of war. It’s a title for a general,” he said.

“That’s right. Same guy, and he’s collecting allies. Servants.”

“That sounds very dramatic,” he said. “But I work with people. Not for them.”

I laughed bitterly. He’d probably been telling himself that his whole life. In our last encounter, he’d had help catching me. No way he could have pulled that off on his own. He’d made a deal with a vampire, Alette’s lieutenant in Washington, D.C. He caught me, and in return Flemming gave him a security contingent to help him destroy Alette and take over the city. I don’t think there’d been any question in Leo’s mind who came out ahead in that bargain. Too bad it had backfired. Even Flemming saw that in the end. But he hadn’t learned a damn thing since then, and here he was, working with vampires again.

“You don’t even know how much you don’t know,” I said.

“The police will let me go,” he said. “I won’t be extradited. I won’t be tried. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Haven’t done anything—only if you believe that werewolves aren’t people.”

The expression he turned to me was so matter-of-fact, my breath caught. So, that was where we stood.

Tyler and I went to stare out the door with Cormac and Ben.

“That’s what you get for baiting the guy,” Ben said, putting his arm around me and pulling me close. I snuggled against his warmth.

Caleb and the others seemed to take forever with the car. Then I remembered they had Michael’s body to retrieve.

“This Dux Bellorum,” Tyler said, his voice low, weary. He still smelled ill, the tranquilizer lingering in his system. “Am I going to have to keep worrying about him?”

“Probably,” I said, leaning my head on Ben’s shoulder. “But knowledge seems to be the best defense. He won’t be able to sneak up on you again.”

All of us were running on next to no sleep, frayed nerves, and spent adrenaline, and we fell into silence. Even the room behind me had become especially quiet, as if Flemming had fallen asleep.

But when I looked in on him, he was gone.

At my shocked gasp, the others turned.

“Where’d he go?” Ben said.

Tyler went on the move, pacing this room and into the next, examining it, sheltering behind the doorway before glancing into the third room.

“He couldn’t have gotten away without making any noise,” the soldier said.

“Then where is he?” I asked. I took a slow breath, smelling. We should be able to track him, even with the diesel stink of the place. But all I sensed was a horrible, unnatural chill …

“Kitty,” Cormac said, pointing out to the street.

Tonight, Mercedes wore green, a lacey camisole that set off her creamy skin and blood-colored hair, and loose silken slacks that fluttered in the breeze coming off the river. She was such a contrast to the surroundings, managing to remain haughty, imperial.

Standing across the wide street between warehouses, she held Dr. Flemming braced beside her. He was dead weight, seeming to hang on her arm like a sack of potatoes. The effort didn’t strain her at all.

She waited until she knew we were all looking, then tilted her head to give Flemming one of her charming, winning stage smiles. “You are a miserable failure,” she said, and dropped him. He fell in a heap.

I would have sworn that she turned and casually strolled away, high heels clicking on the asphalt. But when I ran after her, shouting, she was already gone. She’d turned a corner, transformed into a shadow, or simply vanished.

The others’ footsteps pounded behind me, catching up. I stopped at Flemming’s body, turned him over on his back.

He blinked at me and grasped weakly with still-handcuffed hands. His mouth worked, but he had no air left. A ragged, three-inch gash tore into his neck, opening a major artery. Scarlet lipstick smeared the skin around it. She hadn’t drained him completely. But she hadn’t left him enough to survive on. Bastard had finally dug himself in too deep. He had just enough life left to look me in the eyes as he died. He seemed … confused.

“Kitty.” Ben touched me.

“I was so angry at him,” I said weakly.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ben said. “Maybe we can take Caleb up on his offer to go for a run somewhere.”

Somewhere far away from this concrete pit. Someplace with trees, grass, wide open spaces, wind in my fur.

The sound of an engine echoed, and Caleb’s car pulled around, headlights off. He left the engine running, got out, and looked around. “Well. This is a mess. Not to mention the pile of unconscious mercenaries we found by the main road—that’s where all the guards went. Ned’s doing, no doubt.” Bemused, he hitched his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the direction.

I hardly had the energy to be relieved at the news. “We should go looking for her,” I said. We had to stop her. Somehow. I couldn’t seem to find the energy to stand.

Ben’s hand squeezed on my shoulder, and he pointed behind us, to the corner of the building we’d found Flemming in. A different corner, a different shadow than the one Mercedes had disappeared into. This time, Ned emerged. The chill of his being was almost indistinguishable from the nighttime chill in the air.

“Look who we found,” Ned said, stepping into the open, illuminated by a streetlight. He seemed to have chosen the spot, as if walking into the circle of a spotlight on stage. Marid and Antony followed him. Between them, gripping his shoulders, they dragged Jan. They wouldn’t let him get his feet under him, and he scrabbled ungracefully to keep his balance. Marid had a grip on the captive vampire’s hair and wrenched his head back.

Ned considered the scene around us. “Oh, you’ve all been busy, haven’t you? Sergeant Tyler, I presume?”

The soldier, standing nearby, raised his brows in a question.

“You got him,” I said stupidly, nodding at Jan.

“Yes, we did.” He beamed.

“What about Mercedes? She was right here. Did you see her? She killed Flemming.” I pointed at the body, as if they hadn’t seen it.

Marid shook his head. “Only Jan and his hangers-on. Mercenaries, a handful of lesser vampires. Are you sure it was her?”

I growled. Ben’s hand closed on my arm, a gentle warning.

“If it was her, she’s gone now,” Ned said. “And you know what they say about a bird in the hand.” He leered at Jan, who flinched back, but Marid and Antony held him fast and seemed happy to do so.

“But—” Mercedes was the mastermind. The direct lead to Roman. If he was the general, she was the master sergeant.

This was exactly how she’d planned it, I realized. Mercedes sacrificed Jan. Like a herd of deer leaving a weaker member behind for the wolves, she’d let him get taken, a distraction, while she made her escape. And the vampires thought they were so much better than us. I could almost feel sorry for the merely decades-old vampires who kept taking metaphorical bullets for these old bastards.

Grinning, Ned stepped behind Jan with the air of an executioner.

Jan started yelling. “The bitch is right, it’s Mercedes you want! It’s all her, I’m just … just a foot soldier. She can lead you to Roman!”

“Even if that’s true, you think I’m going to just let you go? Really?”

“I can help you!”

With Marid and Antony bracing his arms, Ned curled his arm around the vampire’s head, a mockery of an embrace, and wrenched until the bone cracked.

Jan kept arguing, as if the injury hadn’t happened. “You need me! This is a mistake! I have a thousand years of experience at your command! Edward, listen to me!”

“I never have before, why should I start now? Because you ask?”

Ned was still wrenching, twisting Jan’s head, until the vampire’s face looked along his shoulder, then over it. Vertebrae crunched again. His voice finally strangled to gasping silence as his windpipe kinked shut. His head faced backward now, and Ned kept on, as if muscling open a water main. The skin furrowed, stretched, tore. Ned dug in his fingernails to help it along. The tendons on his hands stood out. Impossibly, Jan still twitched, struggling.

I looked away before the head came off, but I heard it, tendons popping, wet tissue slurping apart. The thud as the body dropped. When I found the stomach to lift my gaze, Ned tossed a melon-sized bundle toward the warehouse wall. The body lay at his feet. The stringy, ragged gash where his head should have been didn’t bleed at all.

We all stared, silent as snowfall.

“I thought you were joking,” I murmured.

Evenly, Ned said, “Mr. Bennett, I’m sure you have a stake on your person I might borrow?”

Cormac was already holding the sharpened rod of wood, in an overhand grip, ready to use. He seemed to consider exactly how he ought to give it to Ned. I tried to develop instant telepathy—don’t argue, he just ripped a guy’s head off!

Cormac tossed it, and Ned caught it.

Vampire bodies disintegrated when the vampire was destroyed. The decay of the grave caught up with them at last. Jan’s body … the flesh of his hands was pale, but creamy, with the faintest rosy flush, evidence of his last meal.

My throat closed, choking on bile. Jan was still alive, in some form.

Ned drove the stake through Jan’s chest, and that finished him. Only a smear of ash remained of the vampire. The three of them, Antony, Marid, and Ned, were congratulating themselves, laughing and telling some hundred-year-old inside joke. Celebrating like they’d already won the war. And these were my allies?

Ben was right. We needed to get out of here. Too many bodies, too much of a mess. But I was curious. I crept forward to study the stain on the asphalt that used to be Jan. Even his clothes were gone. Sure enough, though, a leather cord had fallen off his neck when Ned did the deed. The nickel-sized Roman coin tied on the cord was old, dark with tarnish. I only found it because I was looking for it.

“Ned?” I said, picking up the cord, watching the coin dangle. “We need to smash this.”

His smell fell, the jubilation quelled. He studied it, fascinated. So did the others.

“I’ve never seen one of these,” Antony said.

“Probably for the best,” Ned murmured.

Caleb had a hammer in the trunk of his car. I used it to smash the coin against the concrete, erasing the design and turning it into a mangled lump of old bronze. When I got home, I’d put it with the others we’d found and destroyed.

“You notice?” Cormac said, gazing around, squinting into the damp air and streetlights.

“Notice what?”

“They didn’t bring any werewolves with them.”

We’d only faced vampires and human mercenaries. Caleb’s pack and mine had been the only lycanthropes here. Jan at least should have been able to call on an army, like he had at Hyde Park.

“Maybe they didn’t think they’d need them,” I said.

“Or maybe your plan worked.” His smile was thin, amused.

“You mean I actually might have incited a werewolf rebellion? What’re the odds?” I wanted to laugh.

He just shook his head, walking away, toward Caleb’s car.

It was all over but the shouting, as they say. Caleb and Ned argued about cleanup—they both had ideas of what should be done with the bodies, any CCTV footage that had recorded us, and how we should otherwise make the scene look like we’d never been here. Ben kept wanting to call the cops because he assumed they’d show up eventually. Then Ned announced that he’d already called the cops—and told them to stay away. Because apparently he could just do that.

This wasn’t my territory. I left the mess to them.

Caleb drove us back into town. Jill and Warrick were in another car, with Michael’s body.

“I’m sorry. About Michael,” I said. “It was a high price to pay.”

After a moment, Caleb said, “Thanks.”

Cormac had the front passenger seat. Hunched over, tense and quiet, Tyler was in the back with Ben and me. He was still recovering from post-traumatic stress from his time in Afghanistan. I couldn’t tell if he was about to relapse, and if we needed to get him someplace safe.

He turned to me. “Can I use your phone to call the States?”

“Yeah, of course.” I handed it over.

He dialed and pulled at his lip waiting for an answer. When it came—a woman’s straightforward hello—Tyler transformed. His expression brightened, the tension left his shoulders. If he’d had his tail, it would have been wagging.

“Hey. Susan. I didn’t wake you up, did I? I don’t even know what time it is there. No … no, I’m okay. I just wanted to hear your voice.” The woman’s response sounded pleased, and she chatted happily at him. Tyler was in bliss.

That … that was awesome.