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“They didn’t mean to create it. It’s a by-product of sorts.” He took a sip of his coffee, his gaze still on mine. There was little in it to give away what he was thinking, but it oddly reminded me of the look vampires got when they were holding themselves under tight control. He added, “They were actually trying to pin down the enzymes that turn human flesh into vampire and make them immortal.”
“Why the hell would anyone want to be immortal? Or near immortal? It sucks. Just ask the vampires.”
A smile, brief and bitter, twisted his features. “Humankind has a lo
ng history in chasing immortality. I doubt the testimony of vampires—many of whom are unbelievably rich thanks to that near immortality—would convince them otherwise.”
“More fool them,” I muttered. Living forever had its drawbacks. As did rebirth, which was basically what vampires went through to become near immortal. But then, humans rarely considered the side effects when they chased a dream.
I took another drink of coffee and shuddered at the tarlike aftertaste. How long had this stuff been brewing? I walked across to the small sink and dumped the remainder of it down the drain, then turned to face him again. “How did this virus get loose? This sort of research would have been top secret, and that usually comes with strict operational conditions.”
“It did. Does. Unfortunately, one scientist decided to test a promising serum on himself after what appeared to be successful trials on lab rats. No one realized what he’d done until after he went crazy and, by that time, the genie was out of the bottle.”
And on the streets, obviously. “How come there’s been no public warning about this? Surely people have a right to know—”
“Yeah, great idea,” he cut in harshly. “Warn the general population a virus that turns people into insane, vampirelike beings has been unleashed. Can you imagine the hysteria that would cause?”
And I guess it wouldn’t do a whole lot of good to the image of actual vampires, either. It would also, no doubt, lead to an influx of recruits to the many gangs dedicated to wiping the stain of nonhumanity from Earth.
I studied him for a moment. For all the information he was giving me, I had an odd sense that he wasn’t telling me everything. “The red cloaks who were chasing you acted as one, and with a purpose. That speaks of a hive-type mentality rather than insanity to me.”
He shrugged. “The virus doesn’t always lead to insanity, and not everyone who is infected actually survives. Those who do, do so with varying degrees of change and sanity.”
I frowned. “How widespread is this virus? Because if tonight is any example, there’s more than just a few surviving it.”
“About sixty percent of those infected die. So far, the virus is mostly confined to this area. We suspect there’s about one hundred or so cloaks.”
Which to me sounded like a serious outbreak. It also explained the patrols around this area. They weren’t keeping the peace—they were keeping people out and the red cloaks in. “And everyone who survives the virus is infectious?”
“Yes.”
It was just one word, but it was said with such bitterness and anger that my eyebrows rose. “Did someone close to you get infected? Is that why you swore to hunt them all down?”
He smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant thing to behold. Far from it. “You could say that. Remember my brother?”
I remembered him, all right—he wasn’t only the first child his mom had been able to carry to full term after a long series of miscarriages, but the firstborn son. And, as such, had never really been denied anything. He’d grown up accustomed to getting what he wanted, and I’d barely even begun my relationship with Sam when he’d decided what he wanted was me. He certainly hadn’t been happy about being rejected. Sam, as far as I knew, was not aware that his older brother had tried to seduce me, although there had been a definite cooling in their relationship afterward.
“Of course I remember Luke—but what has he got to do with anything?”
“He was one of the first victims of a red cloak attack in Brooklyn.”
If he’d been living in Brooklyn, it could only mean he’d truly immersed himself in the life of criminality he’d been dabbling with when I’d known him.
“Oh god. I’m sorry, Sam. Is he okay? Did he survive?” I half reached out to touch his arm, then stilled the motion when I saw the bitter anger in his expression. It was aimed at himself rather than at me, and it all but screamed comfort was not something he wanted right now.
“Luke survived the virus, but his sanity didn’t.” The fury in Sam’s eyes grew, but it was entwined with guilt and a deeper, darker emotion I couldn’t define. But it was one that scared the hell out of me. “I was the one who took him down, Red.”
No wonder he seemed surrounded by a haze of darkness and dangerous emotion—he’d been forced to shoot his own damn brother. “Sam, I’m sorry.”
This time I did touch his arm, but he shook it off violently. “Don’t be. He’s far better off dead than—” He cut the rest of the sentence off and half shrugged. Like it didn’t matter, when it obviously did.
“When did all this happen?”
“A little over a year ago.”
And he’d changed greatly in that year, I thought, though I suspected the cause was far more than just the stress of Luke’s death. “How the hell could something like this be kept a secret for so damn long?”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to know.”
