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V did the honors with the release, and there was a hiss as the vaper lock let go. Inside, a shallow receiving room was tiled on three sides by gray and white stone squares. The alternating pattern was anchored by brisk white mortar that burned the eye under the glare of the fluorescent ceiling panels. Then again, the facility had been installed, only what, like, six months ago? No wear and tear, yet.
But as this visit proved, such a depreciation would come.
The bank of refrigerated units took up the whole of the rear wall. Three levels up, six across. Eighteen slots. Which seemed like a lot of vacancies? Then again, at the rate she was killing people, it might only take her a year—
“Fuck,” she heard herself say.
“Manny told me it’s this one.” V went over to the second in from the left in the middle level. “You ready?”
No, not at all.“Yes—wait,” she cut in as he went for the release. “I want to do it.”
V nodded and eased back.
Unlike all the other individual doors, the one Vishous had indicated had a label sitting in the holder above the latch. Somebody had printed an address on it in black pen: 17th and Market.
Right. Time to…
Reaching out, she watched from a great distance as she pulled the lever. There was a sigh of air releasing, and she smelled the flesh immediately, even though the remains were being kept cold. Under her hand, the slab rolled out smoothly, and the body was covered by a white sheet.
Feet first. Was there a toe tag?
Standing by the head, she pulled the covering off the face slowly, and though she had the urge to recoil—maybe so she could throw up on herhellren’s shitkickers?—she forced herself to stare down at what she’d done.
He’d had blue eyes. Which she’d wrapped in that red bandana.
And the sockets were clean as a whistle.
Neat job, indeed. Then again, she’d had practice—
In quick succession, she saw other faces, just like this. All male. All without eyes. All… dead. But they hadn’t been dressed in club clothes. They’d been in lab coats.
Scientists. Humans who had wanted to understand her kind.
Sadists who had enjoyed making things that screamed and begged for mercy suffer.
In the end, she had slaughtered them all at that lab she’d been imprisoned in: The ones who had pumped her full of TB, Ebola, leprosy, and polio to see what a vampire’s body was susceptible to. Who had tested her reproductive organs. Who had operated on her again and again, just so they could measure the healing capabilities they could not comprehend.
They hadn’t used anesthetic.
And neither had she as she had taken their eyes.
Your grid is collapsing.
Staring into the face of a male she didn’t recognize, she had no memory of the killing—and she didn’t get it. She’d alreadyahvengedherself. She’d killed her captors and burned their little house of toys down. Now she was happily mated, with a good job. A stable life.
Why was this happening?
“You know him?” V asked.
She shook her head. “And that’s the problem. I have no memory of him or of doing this, at all.”
At a little after eight p.m., Daniel got into one of C.P. Phalen’s blacked-out SUVs and sat like a sackof potatoes in the driver’s seat as the garage door in front of him took its sweet time riding up its rails. When the coast was clear, he hit the gas and made the tight turn out of the courtyard between the stone mansion’s easterly flank and the heated outbuilding where the woman’s stable of vehicles was housed.
He’d used the underground tunnel to depart the mansion because with Blade dropping bodies off on the lawn, he wasn’t inclined to take chances.
And also, all the main entrances were locked tight. Thank you, Phalen.
Driving down the allée, he checked the time on the dash. Then looked at the screen of the burner phone he’d been using. The Suburban was two minutes off, and for some reason, this frustrated him as much as a flat tire would.
