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Carson died that night as well, but not before he’d given Declan the permanent serum to restrain his vampire side. He may have been acting out of fatherly concern to some extent, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d forced his will upon Declan without giving him a choice to control his own life.
I’d always hate him for that.
Jackson signaled to the waitress and ordered us more drinks, including his triple vodka.
“You said you were aware of the Nightshade project,” Declan said, “before you heard what happened to Jill.”
“I was.” Jackson shook his head. “Damn, that went down hard with Carl Anderson in San Diego, didn’t it? Sorry you got in the way of that, Jillian.”
“Me too.” I flinched at the name of the chemist who’d grabbed me as a hostage when he’d found himself faced with Declan’s gun, just before he’d shot me full of the Nightshade formula and Declan had shot him.
Only one dead parachemist in the world who kept the recipe entirely in his head. And only one dose of the top secret formula in existence. And here we were.
There hadn’t been a single mention of what happened in the lobby of my office building that I’d found yet. Not on the news, in the newspapers, or online. It was like it never happened.
Oh, but it had. It definitely had.
Carl Anderson worked for Carson Reyes. And Carson Reyes worked for the government. And when the government wanted information locked down, especially about the real existence of vampires in the world, then apparently it stayed locked down. Tight.
Since Jackson Gale was somebody who seemed to know everything already, I didn’t bother to recap any of this for him.
Surely, there was a reason he’d wanted to meet Declan, more than sharing a few drinks with an old hunting buddy. It took another pitcher of beer and Jackson regaling us with tales of his last few girlfriends—one of which was a stripper he met in Las Vegas whom he’d almost married—before something happened.
And it had nothing to do with Jackson.
A man and woman passed by our booth. They paused, glanced at each other, and then their gazes moved to me in perfect sync. The woman was blond—even blonder than I had been before my hair turned black right after the fuser bonded my blood cells to the Nightshade. She was rail thin and pretty, wearing a crocheted boho dress and multiple beaded necklaces. The man’s face was gaunt, his hair jet black, and he wore a denim jacket with metal studs along the collar.
“Good evening,” the woman said. “I don’t think I know you. What brings you to our fine establishment tonight?”
“You own this bar?” I asked.
“We do.” She hooked her arm through the man’s. “I’m Olivia. This is Ian. We’re very happy to welcome new patrons, especially ones as lovely as you. Aren’t we, darling?”
“We are,” Ian confirmed. His nostrils flared and I saw the chillingly familiar indication of hunger branching across his face as his gray eyes shifted to black. “Very lovely.”
“Enjoy your drinks,” Olivia said.
“Thank you, we will,” I replied tightly, as they walked away.
Declan and Jackson shared a look.
“New owners?” Declan asked.
Jackson nodded. “They killed the previous ones a few weeks ago.”
“Is that why you wanted to meet here tonight? You wanted backup?”
“Nah, I’m not sharing this contract. Sorry. It’s more of a ‘kill two birds with one stone’ sort of thing tonight for me. Plus, they have cheap beer here, no matter who the owners are. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them. No time like the present.” He got up from the booth. “As for you two...I know someone who might be able to help you. He’s a scientist named Dr. Victor Reynolds and he used to be Anderson’s business partner until a few years ago. They had a falling out and went their own ways. But...” He tapped his temple. “The knowledge is there for him. This Nightshade, there might be a way to get it out of your blood, Jillian. If there is, Dr. Reynolds would know how. He works out of a top-secret laboratory that’s not all that far from here.”
The words “top-secret laboratory” weren’t among my favorites anymore. Not that they ever were. But I’d sat up straighter in my seat with every word he said.
Anderson’s former business partner. A scientist who might know enough about the Nightshade formula to be potentially helpful.
It was a reach, sure. I knew that. But it also might be the miracle I’d been hoping for.
Before I could say anything, Declan beat me to it.
“When can we meet with him?” he asked.
