At three forty-five by the light of the full moon, I drove to the airport. Jo-Jo bounded into the all but deserted terminal toting a fancy piece of carry-on luggage.
“Highness! Good to see you!” he gushed, then gave me air kisses.
Air kisses? This from the vamp who’d been prostrate at my feet two weeks ago?
Jo-Jo dropped more surprises on me en route to his hotel.
“Vince is negotiating a deal to star me in a remake of The Court Jester. You know, that movie? The original starred Danny Kaye. Anyway, the shooting schedule could be tricky, what with me only up at night, but Vince says if this company wants to do it bad enough, they’ll work it out with the unions. They might even shoot part of it here.”
“The tourism bureau will love it.” And they would, but Gorman wouldn’t. Might have to call my new Covenant contacts with a heads up.
“I hope I don’t have to sing,” Jo-Jo went on. “That could be trickier than night shooting. Now, guess who I looked up?”
“In Vegas or L.A.?”
“Daytona. I called Donita and offered her a job as my personal assistant. She took it, and she’s coming up to meet me tomorrow night before the gig. Isn’t that a stroke of genius?”
“It’s perfect for both of you,” I said, grinning to myself, “but I didn’t think she had her car back.”
“She doesn’t. She’s catching a ride with someone who’s coming up for the show at the Riot.”
“You said there were other acts, Jo-Jo. What time does the whole show start?”
“At eight, but I go on at nine and ten thirty. You will be there, right, Highness? For at least one show?”
For all the air kissing, that little bit of insecurity reassured me Jo-Jo hadn’t gone completely Hollywood.
“We’ll be there.”
I felt jumpy all afternoon on Saturday but figured the cause was either the full moon or simply anticipating Jo-Jo’s performance. When it was time to get ready, I paired black jeans with a lime green top and sandals, and put my hair in a ponytail. Saber wore black jeans, too, but with a blue shirt that made his cobalt eyes look like a stormy ocean. 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?”
“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.