Incredible, but could Dawn blame her? All Eva wanted was to get Breisi out of the way, leaving the Madisons free to reunite. The sooner that happened for Eva, the better. Screw the big war, right?
“You’re lucky you’re his favorite,” Dawn said, already at the door. Because if the Master found out what Eva was doing to win back her family’s love, he’d probably go ballistic.
Eva undid the locks.
Frank was right behind them as they started up the stone stairs. “So why not give Jonah a live feed, too, and just get this big confrontation over with?”
“For the Underground to continue prospering in secrecy, the fight has to take place Below, where humans won’t know about it. Besides, the Master’s confident on his home turf. He just hasn’t been sure that Jonah is a foe. All he wants is to bring him into hostile territory away from Above, where he doesn’t have to worry about being caught by mortals.”
As much as Dawn wanted more details…“Where’s our stash?”
With one last indecisive look, Eva complied. The next minute was a blur as she headed for Julia while giving directions about where to find their weapons, including personal effects. They gathered them rapidly.
“Remember, I’m getting those back,” Eva said before they rushed into the night.
While Dawn sprayed herself and Frank with garlic, it didn’t escape her notice that he flinched, and that he seemed stronger out of his silver chains.
He’d tucked a revolver into a hip holster and slung a big leather man-purse over his burly chest. Just as Dawn was tempted to ask what was in it, she saw Eva pause, close her eyes as if in desperate prayer, then whoosh into Danger Form: heart-stoppingly celestial, a silver cloud of insidious beauty.
The vampire wrapped around her family, veiling and lifting them. It felt like a storm cloud had iced around Dawn, suspending her in numbness and differentiating what Eva was from a Friend or anything else in Dawn’s studies. There was a muted humming, unsettling and primal, robbing her of most senses—touch, scent, awareness of time. And, before she could connect one thought to another, Eva had deposited them on the ground.
Her glow revealed that they were at the lip of a forest, in a deserted campsite. A burnt-out fire ring and the skeleton of a lounge chair were the only signs of life.
Eva hovered away from them, sublime and misty, her tendrils weaving in and out of her form as she gave them directions to the hidden camper.
“I’m coming back for you,” she vowed, raising a tendril in the direction of the camper as if to complete one last mysterious task.
Dawn couldn’t stop herself. “Or you could stay and help.”
“I’ve done enough. The killer’s transmission and recording have been interrupted. Go.”
Then Eva cracked like lightning, rising, rushing off again, disappearing into the midnight sky.
Of course she wouldn’t stay. She didn’t want to take a risk that the Underground might hear about her participation. Hell, she’d already been foolhardy in using Danger Form here Above.
“Let’s go.” Frank had pulled out his revolver. It had a tiny light near the muzzle that he didn’t even flick on.
Was it because his sight was already good in the dark?
Dawn took out her own nightlight, a headset that could fit into a jacket pocket. She geared up, readying her own revolver.
Then they darted into the woods, leaves crackling under their boots as her pulse thundered.
The camper was right where Eva said it’d be, its windows burning like night eyes amidst the trees.
Outside the door, Frank held up his revolver, waiting for Dawn to assume position on the other side.
The trees shook, and a screech rocked the air. Red-eyes.
Dawn raised her revolver.
With a heave, Frank opened the door and jumped up into the vehicle, Dawn following and aiming around for the killer.
“Breisi!” she heard him say, and she whipped around, targeting, targeting…
Frank had rushed toward his bound girlfriend, past the waiting camera, making a desperate dive for her.
But Dawn was far enough away to get perspective: Breisi’s tied, stomping feet, her widened eyes trained on something in back of Dawn—
When she whirled around, something pierced her jacketed arm, and the world electrified, plunging her to the floor in spasms and making her drop the revolver.
Above her, she could barely make out Cassie Tomlinson, head bare, sharp fangs decorating a razored smile as she held a Taser in one hand and brandished a knife at Dawn with the other.
TWENTY-FIVE
THE LAST VICTIM
A S Dawn writhed, Cassie turned off the Taser and yelled at Frank. “Drop your gun, sit down, keep your hands up!”
Dawn heaved for breath, nerve endings fried. No energy. It felt like her body had been used as a baseball bat against a metal pole, but twenty times worse. And even looking at Cassie through half-lidded eyes reminded Dawn of a film-school trick shot Hitchcock might’ve used—a solitary figure with the world spinning around her. Vertigo.
“If any of you move,” Cassie said around her fangs, “I’ll filet this girl.”