 
They Call the Wind Muryah

By Gregory Marshall Smith

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Gregory Marshall Smith

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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ISBN 978-1-927116-04-3

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Acknowledgements

I want to thank the following people:

Writing.com – for providing a forum where everyday people could read, critique and comment on my writing so I could improve.

Gail Smith – My mother who has always been there for me, even if she hasn't been a big science fiction fan.

Eric Smith Sr. – My father who has always encouraged my writing.

Ryk Smith – My older brother who allowed me to stay with him for more than two years in Stone Mountain, Georgia (far past the "cold shoulder" stage).

Sydney Jelinek and Shontrell Wade – Editors with Red Hot Publishing who took a leap of faith and edited a piece outside of their normal genre.

Mariah Love and Muryah Simpson – two incredible beauties who gave me the idea to write something worthy of them.

They Call the Wind Muryah

Table of Contents

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2011 by Gregory Marshall Smith

Hunters

Table of Contents:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

They Call the Wind Muryah

1.

Devin Calloway grunted loudly as he reached between two high-voltage conduits to replace a circuit board in one of deep space shuttle Humboldt's back-up monitoring systems. He felt the electrical charge lightly tickle the back of his hand and was glad the safety matting was in place around the tubing. There were days he wondered why he had to even do these repairs at all. The ship's artificial intelligence system was more than capable, but regulations called for human interaction. And Calloway was a stickler for regulations, sometimes to his detriment.

When he finished, he noted the repair on the electronic clipboard hanging on the nearby bulkhead. He could only smile at the fact that the International Space Exploration Agency even bothered to make clipboards anymore. Still, rules were rules and if they happened to benefit certain suppliers, who was he to question anything?

After wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead, Calloway grabbed the ladder rung and climbed back up to the flight deck. The entire deck was empty and Calloway scowled under his breath. As usual, the rest of the crew must have been outside enjoying the wonderful sights of Planet 505-D. He sighed heavily. It seemed like he was the only one who cared about fulfilling responsibilities.

He walked over to the nearest monitoring station and pressed a green switch. Images appeared on the five overhead screens. Each showed one of the other five members of the crew via the miniature cameras attached to their jumpsuits.

Calloway sat down in the console chair and took stock of each screen. The first in the upper left-hand corner showed the shuttle captain, Marie Penski, up in the cockpit, taking instrument measurements. This brought a measure of satisfaction to the engineer.

"Electrical system repaired, Captain," he said into the console's radio.

"Acknowledged," Penski's voice replied. "Good job as usual, Mr. Calloway."

Calloway leaned back in his chair and sighed. Some part of him just couldn't acknowledge Penski as captain. True, the crew had been together since training camp almost three years earlier. Yet, the Humboldt's chief engineer found it difficult to trust Penski's judgment.

Actually, he knew the reasons. She just didn't seem like a ship's captain to him. First, she was five years younger than him. Second, her mannerisms bordered on egotistical; she was a prodigy within the ranks of the ISEA - being one of the youngest long-range mission commanders ever chosen. Her being a mere four-feet-eleven inches tall didn't help her case either, at least in his opinion.

Calloway closed his eyes and tried to remember what he had read in her psychological profile. She was the only child of a respected mother and father who had made it clearly known they had wanted more than one child. Thus, Penski had found herself working twice as hard to meet the expectations of both parents. In that, she more than excelled, earning two advanced degrees in electronics and computers while garnering promotions and praise in the ISEA.

Calloway, on the other hand, was more blue-collar. He had been in the service for most of his adult life, first with the Merchant Marine space freighter line, then the Navy and, finally, the ISEA. He had weathered the long-distance outpost assignments where solo engineers helped service shuttles entering and leaving the solar system. This earned him the right to be engineer aboard the deep-space shuttle missions preparing distant worlds for colonization.

Well, he thought, he could still claim to be the most experienced crewmember. Regulations required all but one person–usually the engineerto endure the trip in suspended animation to conserve food and water. Penski hadn't even taken over command of the mission until the shuttle was almost in orbit around Planet 505-D.

Calloway opened his eyes and focused back on the screens. The upper middle screen showed mission specialist Janice Boronova, in charge of testing the planet's plant life. She was almost as tall as he was, but was very slender. She was also only a year or so younger than him, but she was reserved, very quiet. She sometimes laughed when he hit her with his offbeat sense of humor, but she didn't talk much and he couldn't help but wonder what inner demons she hid.

At that moment, Boronova stood at the bottom of the ramp extending from the cargo bay. She was just staring straight ahead. She didn't even hear Calloway come down the ramp to stand beside her. As usual, though, she knew he was there. It took little more than a slight movement of her head to look at him before returning her gaze straight ahead.

"Everything okay?'' Calloway inquired, looking at the seemingly endless forest a quarter of a mile beyond the clearing where the shuttle had landed.

"Beautiful, isn't it?'' she said simply.

"Yeah,'' Calloway agreed. "Lots of trees.''

Janice smirked.

"Don't mess with me, man,'' she said, almost in a whisper. "You know what I mean. I've never seen such green forests before. I've always dreamed of them, though. I knew they had to exist somewhere in the universe. That's why I signed up for this mission.''

Janice had always wanted to be a naturalist and had grown up reading about the amazing flora and fauna of the Earth's rainforests. Alas, overcrowding and pollution took most of those away from her. Add in that she'd raised her siblings almost single-handedly after her parents died and she never could find a way to do what she always loved.

Her job with a government contractor in Prague, Czech Republic exposed her to the ISEA. ISEA needed civilian specialists and Janice wanted to find worlds where nature still ruled so after her youngest sibling graduated high school, she leapt at the chance to join the space agency.

"Have you seen Harrigan, Martine or Lee?'' Calloway asked, breaking Boronova's concentration. "I need to calibrate the ATV's.''

Janice shrugged her shoulders. Finally, she shot him a slight grin, walking off the ramp, headed for the rear of the shuttle. She had more important things to occupy her time than dealing with Calloway.

Watching Boronova walk away, Calloway frowned. Three years training with her and he still couldn't figure her out. He shunted thoughts of her aside for the moment and glanced around quickly, looking for signs of Max Harrigan, Veronica Martine and Nguyen Lee, the mission's other specialists. None of them had their uniform cameras on, which frustrated him to no end.

He could see clear to the forest and spotted nothing. To the west, he spied the massive mountain range, capped by a snow-covered peak that rivaled Mount Everest in height. Harrigan, an avid mountain climber when not being a zoologist, had vowed to climb it before the shuttle left for Earth. Calloway hoped the man wasn't on that peak, as he had no intention of going after him.

The engineer looked northward and scanned the long sloping horizon from where the mountain range tapered down to a broad plain. When the shuttle had set down, Calloway had noted the plains and, beyond them, the vast Earth-like ocean just over the horizon. That would be Martine's area of exploration.

As for Nguyen Lee, the whole world was his laboratory. Calloway could easily believe that the meteorologist would cover every square inch of 505-D to examine every little thing that might affect the weather. Calloway had no interest in being out in the wind and rain to find out why it blew and stormed.

Calloway glanced at his chronometer and cursed mildly. He turned around and strode swiftly up the ramp. Penski was still in the cockpit when he arrived there. To his consternation, he saw that she had finished her readings and was sitting in her command chair with her feet propped up on the console, humming. Calloway had to politely clear his throat to get her attention, but that only caused her to raise an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, I thought you'd finished the engineering checks," she noted, casually. "Why aren't you outside enjoying the fresh air?"

Calloway stifled his consternation. He already began to regret signing up for the mission aboard Humboldt as the crew was sixty percent civilian. Military discipline factored little in such a scenario. However, he expected his captain to, at least, be on top of things.

"I was trying to decide if I should enjoy the scenery or kick my feet up on my console,'' he retorted, in his usual sarcastic tone.

He expected her to take the bait, but she didn't. Her smile disappeared at his cutting remark, but, to her credit, she let it slip. She inquired about the status of the day's workload instead.

"We're even further behind than yesterday,'' Calloway shot back, leaning against the nearest bulkhead. "Not that it matters. We've been here for five days and haven't done a damn thing for the mission. This is the first manned mission since the Tomahawk ten years ago and the fifth mission overall. We're supposed to make final tests and preparations.

"Of course, since the first manned visit gave us nothing, there's nothing final about it. Why ISEA decided to send the colonists anyway is beyond me, but I don't make policy. Point is, we've got a ship full of colonists following two weeks behind us ready to set up a habitat. If we say everything's okay.''

Pulling her feet off the console, Penski took a deep breath. She was trying hard to contain herself because of Calloway's attitude. In all her years of hard work, she had encountered few personalities as grating as that of her engineer.

"Well, Mr. Calloway, it does matter,'' she said. "We've got a fine crew and we've been given a window in which to do our tests. As long as those tests get done, we're all right.''

"Doesn't it bother you that none of these civilians take this mission seriously, Captain?''

Penski spun around in her chair and stood up. Despite being much shorter than Calloway, her demeanor told him he had slipped up and gone too far with her. He straightened up, trying to pretend he wasn't bothered.

"No,'' she replied, matter-of-factly. "What bothers me, is that I have an engineer officer who thinks his rank of commander will let him talk anyway he pleases to someone with the rank of captain. I don't care if you're older than I am. I don't care if you have more service experience. I am in command and I will run this mission. Get it?''

Calloway didn't show it, but the captain's dressing down stung. He had disrespected her. Normally one to use humor to avoid confrontations, he had lost his cool. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why this mission was getting to him. Penski still stood before him, a stern look on her face, waiting for him to act.

"Yes, ma'am,'' Calloway finally acknowledged. "I get it. Is that all?''

"No, that's not all,'' Penski snapped, perhaps harsher than she should have. "Ever since we landed, you have yet to go more than fifty feet beyond the ship. I want you to get out and explore the planet. I'm sure you've noticed the therapeutic effect it's had on the others, even after their long hibernation. I don't want you keeling over from exhaustion.''

"Yes, ma'am,'' Calloway politely replied, before turning and strolling out of the cockpit.

Penski watched him leave, then went back to her command console. After punching in a couple of commands, she viewed one of her monitor screens. A little perturbed, she hit another button and, suddenly, the screen came alive. Foliage appeared, then a small stream of clear water. Beside the stream, Nguyen Lee and Max Harrigan took samples, her view of them coming from Veronica Martine's camera.

"I shouldn't have to buzz you to keep your uniform cameras on," the captain chided.

"Yes, Captain,'' Martine's disembodied voice stated off-camera. "Sorry. It won't happen again."

"How are your tests going?" Penski asked. "We're still on the timetable, right?''

On screen, Harrigan, a brusque, well-built man with a full beard and a thick Scottish brogue, stood up and turned towards the camera. Harrigan, who had a reputation on Earth as a man used to getting his own way, as well as for speaking his mind, gave the camera a shrug.

"I am sure that timetable question comes courtesy of our favorite engineer, aye, Captain?" he asked, though he didn't expect an answer. "Well, I'm sure you know where Mr. Calloway can put his timetable. The man never leaves the damn ship. What does he know of what we're doing out here?''

"I've ordered him off the ship tomorrow,'' Penski replied. "I'd like him to go with you and Janice to the mountains.''

Harrigan's eyes went wide in alarm. Behind him, Lee stood up, laughing. Harrigan took a half-hearted swipe at the man, but Lee easily dodged it.

"Och, one day with Calloway, and Harrigan will be passing over the new,'' Lee quipped, doing his best imitation of the Scotsman.

"Calloway may be dying, but not me,'' Harrigan shot back, obviously not amused. "Why can't he go with Veronica?''

"Oh, no, Maxwell, he's not going with me,'' Martine objected. "You heard the captain. Maybe she wants him to see an avalanche up close and personal.''

"Okay, guys,'' Penski chortled. "Let's try to be serious for a moment. What is your status?''

"Well, I've found a lot of flora and fauna in this forest, enough to keep Janice wide-eyed for months,'' Martine answered. "This place is amazing. I can't imagine the colonists not succeeding here. The water is basically potable. It's like Earth before we screwed it up. This more than confirms the findings of the earlier unmanned missions.''

Penski liked what she heard. Her crew - with the possible exception of Calloway - was happy. They were doing their jobs with enthusiasm. She knew her mission would be completed on time and she would have another feather in her cap, which was good. She had a reputation at ISEA to uphold. Maybe then she could take a well-deserved vacation and some time for herself. Lord knew she really needed it.

"Sounds good,'' Penski finally replied. "It's getting late. Wrap it up and let's go over what we've learned today. I have to send a report probe tonight on our progress.''

On screen, Martine acknowledged the order. Switching off the screen, Penski stood up and headed towards the cargo bay. She wanted to get outside and soak up some of the planet's therapeutic aura before the twin suns went down.

2.

Lee was first up the next morning. He did his daily tai chi exercises, settled down for thirty minutes of calisthenics and another half hour with the gravimetric weight machines. He followed up with a sonic shower to shake off the sweat before donning a fresh jumpsuit.

The others were still asleep, but Lee decided to wait for them before eating breakfast. Instead, he went into the computer library and called up some history. He put on one of the headsets and gave a set of verbal commands. Instantly, the history of the Tomahawk appeared. He scanned the information at an almost ridiculous pace, as he always preferred his own speed-reading abilities to having information wired directly into his brain.

From what he read, he knew the Tomahawk had been the first manned mission to 505-D. The crew of three men and one woman had made the initial discovery that, of the seven planets in System 505, D most closely resembled Earth and could be colonized. Lee scrolled through the crew list - Muryah Abernathy, mission specialist; Captain Michael Corvac, mission commander; Ang Wu, mission specialist; Commander Turkoman Hedu, engineer.

Lee scrolled further, reading where Tomahawk had made its final probe launch to send information back to Earth ahead of the shuttle. The shuttle had taken off, but had never made it home. It was determined - guessed was more like it - the ship had met a grisly fate in a collision with a meteor, despite the guidance system's multi-layered sensor suite. That all the systems could fail simultaneously was nearly impossible, but so was just about every other explanation Lee could think of.

Since Tomahawk, three more missions had visited 505-D, all unmanned. They had showered the planet with sensor probes to determine factors such as environment, animal life, soil content, water content and weather patterns. The last part was very important. The planet had unique weather patterns, including a rainy season that made Asia's monsoon season seem like drizzle by comparison.

What Lee was more interested in was Ang Wu. Like Lee, Wu was from China. Lee had always admired Wu. Both were of mixed heritage – Chinese/Vietnamese for Lee and Chinese/English for Wu. Wu's perseverance against prejudice from two societies inspired Lee to cope with his own racial issues, making it easier for him to carry the aspirations of two nations on his shoulders.

Lee had the screen cursor highlight Wu and commanded the computer to pull up Wu's oral history. He then closed his eyes to allow Wu's own voice to inspire him to complete the mission.

Unbeknownst to Lee, Veronica Martine was watching the meteorologist as he listened to the library computer. She marveled at how much mileage he could get out of one audio file. It certainly couldn't be as much fun as exploring the depths of the ocean, she thought.

Martine hoped she could take out one of the ATV's and finally reach 505-D's ocean. She hadn't been able to do more than dangle her feet in the forest stream since arriving almost a week earlier. She longed to explore the depths of that ocean. Of course, that meant leaving the safety of the cockpit Calloway had strengthened and she wasn't sure if she was ready to be that defiant of the engineer's suffocating rules.

She had grown up in some of the worst slums of Rio de Janeiro; where life was traded and thrown away with alarming ease and appalling regularity, even in the 22nd century. She had escaped the trials and tribulations of those times by going to the ocean. While her friends were content to go topless along with the rest of the female beach-goers, Veronica had explored the water. She was fascinated by the sea life, not by the human life ashore that only ruined Earth's most precious resource.

Martine took her turn in the workout room. As the most muscular and toned of the crew, she needed the most intense workout to keep her shape. Being a bodybuilder had its advantages. As a child, it kept boys from trying to have their way with her. As an adult, it helped build up her endurance for the rigors of scuba diving and deep-sea diving. With space travel, it worked to keep her body and mind sharp.

Max Harrigan wasn't one to let on, but he really admired Martine. That admission was something he found very difficult to say aloud. The men in his family had always taken the stance of being in control of everything, especially women. Max had been no different, whether it was with his three ex-wives or female colleagues at the University of Edinburgh where he had been head of the zoology department. He remembered all too well the severe clash of egos he created with various members of the ISEA when he joined the organization's extraterrestrial biology department.

Harrigan had been around long enough to know everything in life was gray. In the past, his use of women might have brought a clamor from women's rights groups, but, in the 22nd century, men and women shared virtually equal footing in everything. Women used him as much as he did them.

Rather than a morning workout, Harrigan opted to go straight to the cargo bay to check his mountain climbing equipment. He wished Martine would come along. He admired her physique and definitely would not mind seeing her muscular curves move in sync under the skintight thermal jumpsuit required for work in cold-temperature environments like the deep sea.

Calloway was already in the bay when he got there. He wondered if the man ever slept. It was bad enough hearing the engineer remind everyone that he was the only regular professional in the crew (using a skewed definition based on being awake while the others hibernated). Harrigan hated vain bastards like that, if only because it challenged his own desire to dominate every environment.

"Good morning, Harrigan," Calloway said, good-naturedly, looking up from one of the larger all-terrain vehicles.

This one was equipped with three transaxles, instead of the usual two, to ensure better traction on rocky ground. Unlike the deep-sea ATV, the mountain ATV's enclosed interior was strengthened against the high winds and rockslides typical of many mountain ranges.

Harrigan liked that it was well-heated and comfortable. Growing up in the Firth of Forth, where the sun hardly ever shined and a hot summer to Scotsmen was a mild spring to the rest of the world, had made him keep all of his abodes and work spaces as warm as possible. Considering his penchant for mountain climbing in the coldest of climes, it was odd, to say the least, but there was no explaining the human psyche.

"Got your gear, Mr. Calloway?'' Harrigan inquired, trying to be as polite as possible. "It'll be a wee bit cold up on that mountain. Of course, I won't expect ye to climb. Ye can monitor the server robots as I make my ascent and I'm sure Miss Boronova could use a hand finding the plant life underneath all the snow.''

"Contrary to popular belief, Harrigan,'' Calloway started, "I don't spend all my time in engineering. I've done some climbing, believe it or not. On Mars and Jupiter."

Harrigan raised his eyebrows in surprise; he hadn't known that. Mountain climbing on Jupiter was extremely hazardous because of the intense gravity, the bizarre weather patterns and the thick cloud cover that hung low over almost the entire surface of the various floating continents within the planet's atmosphere. Probes had yet to penetrate the intense gas clouds to see if Jupiter had any actually stationary land mass. Maybe the man can be useful after all, Harrigan thought to himself.

"Well, what made ye crazy enough to scale a mountain on Jupiter?" Harrigan inquired.

"Rescue mission," Calloway replied, while checking the interior of the ATV. "Couple of idiot kids went sightseeing and ran right into the side of Jupiter Kilimanjaro, one of the highest peaks on the planet. Authorities quickly formed a rescue mission and just grabbed whoever was around. I was coming back from a remote post past Pluto and they snagged me.

"I can tell you I was scared spitless, but I went up. I mean, we had the server robots hovering alongside in case we fell. One guy did slip, though and, before they caught him, he broke his jaw against a rock and cracked six ribs. So, I'll keep on eye on you, Harrigan, but if you get in trouble, expect to see the server robots before you see me, okay?"

"Aye, man, I'll be careful," Harrigan answered, with an unexpected smile. "Besides, I'm not really climbing it, just hitting some predetermined points to set up some of Lee's meteorological equipment. Maybe when the mission's over, I'll have time to really scale that peak, all the way to the top, the way a man is supposed to climb it."

Harrigan heard footsteps and turned around, missing Calloway's alarmed reaction to his boast. The Scotsman greeted Janice, who somehow managed to carry an armful of books while wiping the sleep from her eyes. He helped by placing the tomes within the ATV's rear storage compartment. He looked up to see if she had anything else, but she had walked back to the cafeteria with nary a word.

"Och, this is going to be a quiet trip," Harrigan quipped. "Let's get some breakfast."

Penski was the last to arrive at the cafeteria for breakfast. She clicked on the wall monitor before she sat down, giving the crew a constantly changing view of the exterior of the ship. A server robot flitted up and the small automaton hovered over the table long enough to place a tray of food in front of her before heading off.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen," she greeted. "I hope you all slept well because we have a full day ahead of us. Of course, all work and no play make Humboldt a dull shuttle. So, Martine, you and Lee get to go the ocean. I need wide scans of sea life, and I also need to see how the ocean fuels the weather. Harrigan, you, Janice and Calloway will test the mountain. I will suffer all by myself back here at the ship.

"I do want to stress, however, that we are behind schedule somewhat and we need to get as much work done as we can in the next few days. The equipment we're setting up needs a one-week window for total completion, but I want extra time for any delays. We shouldn't be hitting the colonists with last-minute news when they're in orbit."

If Calloway felt any vindication, he didn't show it to Penski. She was hesitant to admit that he'd been right yesterday because she didn't want to feed his ego. When she had compiled the data for the probe she later sent into orbit, she had seen that her mission was, indeed, behind schedule.

This factored into the assignments, but was not the most important one. She wasn't blind to the fact that Harrigan and Martine admired each other. She also had seen Boronova and Lee exchange enough brief smiles to know something might have been smoldering between the two (of course, she hadn't pegged Lee as a ladies' man; how could a romantic relationship with the man last when compared to carrying the weight of two nations on his shoulders for so long, she mused). Whatever the romantic motivations, she couldn't let those embers flare into a forest fire until after the mission was completed.

Thus, to keep their minds on their work, she had made sure the potential couples worked apart. Lee hated heights and Janice loved them, so it was natural to keep Lee off the mountain. Harrigan's ego would not allow him to stand by and let Calloway complete the mountain survey so he would be apart from Martine for the day. And, Penski noted, her engineer's brusque personality would probably bother Boronova to no end, keeping her on her toes.

"Looks like a stiff breeze is picking up out there," Lee commented, out of the blue.

On screen, the camera was on the forest. They could see the tops of the trees swaying heavily. Fortunately, it wasn't monsoon season and Lee's forecast hadn't predicted any rain for several more days.

"It's funny," Martine said. "But, it was almost like that yesterday. In the forest, the wind, it was almost like it was whispering to me. I know it sounds strange, but it was soothing. It actually made the day go by a lot smoother."

"Hey, Harrigan," Calloway called out. "Your friends are back."

Harrigan looked up from his eggs and eyed the screen. Sure enough, about fifty yards from the ship, four creatures that closely resembled deer grazed on grass. Harrigan watched them for a while, but made no move to get up. It was useless trying to go outside to observe them up close; they ran at the first footstep they heard.

"Calloway, you're the engineer," Harrigan said, finally. "Can't you rig up some kind of trap, maybe stun them so I can get some up-close time with them?"

Everyone got a good laugh out of that, everyone except Calloway. Penski started to ask him if he was okay with being the butt of the joke when she noticed he wasn't even looking at her. He was staring past her, at the monitor screen. The look of shock on his face had her spin quickly around. Somebody dropped a fork on a plate, but she was too busy gasping to notice who had done it.

On the screen, the deer-like creatures had gone away. Instead, the camera had focused in on something else. It was about a hundred yards away, coming out of the forest, moving steadily towards the shuttle.

It was a woman!

The woman was almost to the ship by the time the crew got the cargo bay ramp down. Calloway was the first one out, but Penski quickly got ahead of him. She didn't want him starting off any conversation with the stranger on a bad note.

Upon seeing them, the woman stopped. She eyed them with a big smile on her face, while the crew of the Humboldt gave her the once-over. She looked incredibly fit. Her hair appeared to have been professionally cut. She wore a one-piece jumpsuit and boots, which Calloway recognized as an ISEA uniform that had been in use a decade earlier. Calloway looked at the name sewn into the uniform's left breast pocket and saw that it had faded away, but, he had seen the woman's photo enough to recognize her even though she looked as if she had not aged a day.

"Muryah Abernathy," he said, incredulously.

The woman smiled even wider at the mention of her name.

"Wow, how'd you guess that?"

3.

Five hours later, Calloway leaned against a bulkhead outside of the ship's infirmary, waiting impatiently for Boronova and Martine to finish examining their mysterious guest. Penski walked up. She stopped when she noticed that Calloway still carried his pistol. Calloway caught her look, but ignored it. He doubled as the security chief for the mission and he wasn't a trusting soul in this area.

"I don't think you'll need that," Penski said. "If she hasn't done anything by now, I doubt she'll try anything. She doesn't seem like a threat to me."

"Looks can be deceiving," Calloway replied, causing Penski to give him a quizzical look, not sure who was the object of the remark. "Of course, according to regulations, I should be in the infirmary."

"You really need to lighten up, Calloway," Penski remarked. "We're a little far from ISEA to be bothered by all these damn regulations. Who's going to know?"

Calloway eyed his captain coolly. Fortunately, she was looking at the infirmary door and didn't see his expression. Had she, she might have glimpsed the contempt behind his eyes. It was bad enough answering to a much younger person, but taking orders from one lacking what he considered to be "command presence" was harder to swallow.

"I wish I could ignore it, Captain," Calloway lied, to avoid an argument. "But, this situation isn't exactly one you'd find in the books. According to our records, Muryah Abernathy and her crew were lost ten years ago. I'm not a psychic, maybe she did survive on this planet for a decade. There are certainly enough sources of edible plant life, meat and water. But, look at her. Her uniform is almost immaculate, her face hasn't aged a day and she looks like she just walked out of a professional hair salon. What the hell is up with that?"

The door to the infirmary slid open before Penski could continue the conversation. Martine stepped out and gave a long, solemn look at her commander. Calloway and Penski could read her face, but Martine stated the obvious anyway.

"She is Muryah Abernathy," Martine confirmed. "Our equipment is practically light years ahead of what it was just ten years ago. It's almost impossible to fool the advanced DNA/RNA/biometrics scan."

Muryah and Boronova stepped out of the infirmary. Muryah still wore the same smile she'd sported since walking out of the forest hours earlier. It might have made the others feel at ease, but Calloway couldn't stifle the shiver that ran up his spine.

"It's getting a bit crowded in the hallway," Penski noted. "Why don't we all adjourn to the cafeteria?"

Once at the cafeteria, Muryah was given the center seat normally reserved for Penski. The captain took a seat across from her while Calloway stood by the door. The others took seats around the table.

"I know you're all shocked by my appearance," Muryah blurted out, breaking the uneasy silence. "To be honest, I don't blame you. I was just as surprised to see you. The last three shuttles that landed seemed to be unmanned."

"If I may, Captain," Calloway said, mindful to show respect to his captain even as he turned to face Muryah. "Miss Abernathy, I'm guessing that, somehow, your crewmembers on the Tomahawk left the planet without you. Why was that?"

"I don't know why," Muryah replied, her voice losing some of its luster. "I will admit the mission had not been going well. I, for one, loved the planet. I wished we could have stayed longer. But, the rest of the crew became apprehensive. We started fighting a lot. No one wanted to follow regulations. They wanted to do their own thing."

Penski listened intently. She could almost feel Calloway's eyes burning into her back. That was ten years ago, she told herself. Training is a lot better now.

"I was in the forest taking more tests when the ship left the planet," Muryah continued. "I couldn't believe it. The captain had threatened to cut the mission short and take us back to Earth, but we really didn't think he would leave anyone behind. I had no way of calling the ship. My radio couldn't penetrate the atmosphere. But, I know they never made it back to Earth."

"How could you know that?" Boronova asked. "Why wouldn't you think the three unmanned missions you saw weren't search and rescue missions?"

"I watched those missions and I only saw them collecting information," Muryah replied. "They were not conducting any searches. They weren't looking for me. If my crewmates made it to Earth, why didn't they send someone back for me?"

"Be that as it may," Calloway interjected. "You still could have approached any of those shuttles. In fact, it's standard operating procedure in an emergency. So, why didn't you do it?"

Muryah said nothing at first. In fact, she looked quite pensive, as if searching for the right words.

"Because I didn't want to be rescued," she blurted.

All eyes went wide at that remark. The crewmembers of the Humboldt looked at each other in astonishment. Penski had to raise her voice three times to bring order back to the proceedings.

Over her shoulder, Calloway's hand edged towards his holster. Maybe there was a reason Muryah Abernathy did not want to be rescued - a potentially criminal reason. A reason that might, somehow, be connected to the final fate of the Tomahawk.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Penski demanded. "Did you desert your ship?"

"No," Muryah objected. "I already told you they left me behind. Why is that so hard to understand?"

"Och, of course, it's simple to see," Harrigan chimed in. "The highly-experienced captain of the Tomahawk up and left a crewmember for no apparent reason. That's easy to understand, lassie."

"Please, Harrigan," Penski chided. "This is not the time for sarcasm. And that definitely means you, Calloway. Now, Muryah, why did you not want to be rescued?"

"Come on, Captain," Muryah replied, her voice almost pleading. "Haven't you felt it? Haven't you felt the euphoria that this planet provides? I've been watching you and listening for the past few days – that's how I found out your names. I've seen how Miss Martine reacts around the streams, how calm she seems, how happy she appears. I've seen how Mister Harrigan and Mister Lee react to the environment, how Mister Harrigan looks when he sees the magnificent mountains this planet has to offer.

"I hope I don't get you into trouble, Mister Lee, but I saw how you reacted the other day when you got caught in the brief rainstorm. You stood out in the rain and let it wash over you. Even you, Captain Penski. I have seen you outside several times, sitting in the wonderful fields, smelling the flowers, listening to the wind. You know how invigorating it is. Who wouldn't want to remain here instead of sleeping in suspended animation for almost a year, missing all the wonders the universe has to offer?"

Calloway started to reply since Muryah had conveniently left him out of her assessment, but stopped when he saw the faces of his colleagues. They actually seemed to be buying her spiel. If this don't beat all, he said to himself.

Was this why the crew of the Tomahawk had departed 505-D without her, he thought. Had she corrupted the crew, made them shirk their duties to go out and play on this new world? He had already seen laxity creeping into his own crew's work ethics and he certainly didn't want someone like Muryah exacerbating the situation.

"And may I ask just how you survived so well?" Calloway inquired, accusingly. "You look pretty fit. Where did you live? What did you eat? Who gave you all this stuff?"

Muryah gave Calloway a long look. Then, she smiled and Calloway instantly thought of the Cheshire Cat. When she gave him a sly wink, he could only think she had something special planned for him and he was sure he wouldn't like it.

"The planet provided for me, of course," Muryah replied.

"The planet?" Lee piped up. "We've scanned this entire planet three times before we landed. We detected no civilization whatsoever. No roads. No houses. No industry. No technology, advanced or otherwise."

"Like I said," Muryah replied, earnestly. "The planet provided for me. Haven't you felt it? Haven't you felt the planet speaking to you? The wind in the trees. The sound of the ocean surf. The babbling of the streams. This planet is in harmony with all of its life forms. It provides them with food, with shelter, with protection.

"When the Tomahawk departed without me, I thought I was doomed, but the planet helped me to survive. When I was thirsty, a voice in my head led me to the streams. When I was hungry, I somehow knew which plants to eat and which to avoid. When I needed shelter, I was led to a large cave filled with strange luminescent rocks that kept me warm and dry."

"Like symbiosis?" Boronova asked, obviously intrigued.

"I'm not sure what you would call it, but I feel as if the planet and I are one," Muryah answered. "Whatever I needed somehow appeared. Sharp flint-like rocks to trim my hair. Smooth polished stone to use as a mirror. Plant sap that totally cleaned and preserved my clothing and retarded wear and tear. Plants that gave me all the nutrition I needed to keep my skin smooth and my hair nice. Plants that kept me healthy, clean-smelling and even worked better than our hygienic deodorant injections."

"I would love to have a look at those plants,'' Boronova said. "I've always advocated an organic vegetarian lifestyle and this might be the evidence to prove it."

"And I would love to see some of the ocean life," Martine added. "You must be very familiar with it. I only know what I've been able to pick up on my instruments and from a few brief forays into the shallow parts."

Muryah smiled at both of them. Harrigan mentioned that he wanted to know about the mountains, while Lee chimed in about the weather. Muryah seemed to have an answer for all of them. She even promised to give Penski a personal guided walking tour of the planet if the captain could spare the time.

Again, only Calloway wasn't mentioned. He couldn't help but feel he was the only one not in the secret that Muryah Abernathy was keeping.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, Miss Abernathy," Penski said, getting to her feet. "Mr. Calloway, may I speak with you?"

Calloway followed her into the passageway.

"What do you think of her?" Penski asked.

"I think she's going to give me diabetes in a minute."

Penski smirked. Then, shaking her head, she walked back into the cafeteria. A confused Calloway trailed her.

"It's a very interesting story, Muryah," Penski stated, retaking her seat. "My crew and I have a lot to contemplate and think over. But, much as I would like to continue this fascinating conversation, we are behind schedule.

"I would like you all to continue with your pre-planned activities with one exception, however. I think I need to take Muryah up on her guided tour so I can get a full report for the mission report probe tonight. Mr. Calloway, I'd like you to stay aboard and monitor things while I'm gone."

Calloway said nothing, but the look of disgust on his face said everything.

An hour later, the two modified ATV's had departed the ship. Penski was still getting ready for her foot tour. Calloway had grabbed some snacks and beverages and sought refuge in his engineering station. From here, he could monitor everyone as thoroughly as if he had been on the bridge.

After putting his snacks aside, he dialed up his computer and brought up the file on the Tomahawk again. Something wasn't right and it wasn't just the obvious situation. How was it that the rest of the crew was so ready to accept such an outlandish tale as Muryah had spun?

"You don't feel it, do you?"

Calloway nearly jumped out of his chair. Startled, he looked around and saw that Muryah had somehow entered the cubicle without making a sound. He had no idea how long she had been standing there, but he figured she must have seen him bring up the file on her ship and crew.

"And you don't trust me either, right?"

Calloway sat back and pulled himself back up to his console. He hit a button and made the onscreen file disappear. He then turned to face his guest.

"Was it that obvious?" he answered, curtly. "And, no, I don't feel it."

"I don't blame you, you know," Muryah continued. "You're an engineer and also in charge of security. I can see you're a veteran and you don't like someone like me disrupting your ship. But, you don't have to see me as a disruption. Your crewmates can see that I am not a threat. They just want to see the wonders that I've seen. Surely, there's nothing wrong with that?"

"There is if you have to ask," Calloway retorted.

Without another word, Muryah lowered her eyes, turned and left the cubicle. Calloway caught her on one of his monitors leaving the ship with Captain Penski. As soon as they were gone, he brought the Tomahawk file back up. Then, as a precaution, he stationed a server robot by the cargo bay ramp to alert him of anyone approaching. Only then did he feel secure enough to begin perusing the file.

4.

"Sounds like a regular Garden of Eden, doesn't it?"

Harrigan looked up from the controls of his ATV and turned towards Boronova. She had put her book down and her eyes were closed. Harrigan had no doubt that she was referring to Muryah's description of 505-D. Yes, it was like a paradise. A paradise with some of the best mountains he had ever seen.

"Hopefully we can get enough time to enjoy this Eden," Harrigan remarked. "I'd even be willing to come out by myself."

"And I'm sure Calloway'd like to see you climb without a partner, too," Boronova said with a slight giggle. "You and Veronica are two of a kind. She'd go scuba diving alone if she could."

"Guilty," Harrigan admitted. "There's something to be said for the feeling of serenity one gets at the summit that makes the achievement all the better, lass. Maybe you'll see for yourself soon."

Eyes still closed, Boronova nodded in agreement. Maybe one day. Real soon.

Nguyen Lee sat on the hood of the ATV and stared out at the ocean. He watched Martine standing knee-deep in the surf, as the waves crashed over her thighs. Although tests had proven the ocean to be almost the same as the water on Earth, Lee had still persuaded her (barely) from doffing her jumpsuit to experience the feel of the ocean on her skin.

Still, Lee could see why she liked the water so much. There was so much of it out there, unexplored, waiting to be experienced. He could almost see the water evaporating and being sucked up into the sky to collect and fall back down again as rain. The ocean had a profound effect on the weather patterns on most planets and it fascinated him to no end.

"Isn't it beautiful, Nguyen?" Martine asked, walking out of the surf and across the sand. "Sure you don't want to join me for a swim?"

Tempting as it was to see Martine's well-built body in her underwear, Lee still felt a twinge of duty calling to him. Being cooped up with Calloway had rubbed off on him a little. He shook his head and Martine frowned.

"You're no fun, you know that," Martine said, as she walked around to the driver's side of the ATV. "You need to live it up while we're here. According to Mariah, there's a lot more further from the shore. We just have to find it."

"It's funny," Lee said. "I went to the beach a lot when I was in China, but I never really saw it like this."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know my country is the most populous on the planet," Lee replied, turning to look over his shoulder at Martine. "There were always so many people at the beach that I could barely see the sand. It was like that in Japan, the Philippines, Korea; I think the whole Asian continent was a sea of people instead of water. It was never like this, being the only people for miles around."

Martine laughed as she sat in the vehicle. A moment later, Lee climbed off the hood and got inside the ATV. He strapped himself in and lowered the lid until it sealed airtight.

"Not just Asia, my friend," Martine said as she started the ATV motor. "In Rio, the beaches were always crowded. The women still go topless and the men flock there like bees to honey. That's why I love diving. There's a whole new world under the surface that's not filled with screaming kids and fat old men or women trying to show off their bodies. Now, prepare yourself for this new world."

Lee stared straight ahead, feeling the ATV move forward. The vehicle hit the surf and inched ahead. They stopped momentarily, but continued when the vehicle's suspension adjusted itself for the ocean's sandy bottom. Soon, the ATV was completely submerged.

Sunlight filtered through the overhead tree branches like light through the seams of a canopy. Penski shielded her eyes as she stared up into the branches. She walked alongside Muryah through the forest the others had explored earlier. The captain could only marvel at all the plant life, at the small animals that drank water or nibbled on plants, completely oblivious to her approach.

"It really is wonderful here," Penski said, admiringly. "I can see why you wouldn't want to leave."

They stopped at a smooth-flowing stream. A large rock with a flat top rested next to the meandering waterway, about two feet above the shiny surface. Muryah leaned against the rock while Penski sat on top of it.

"As a kid, I used to sneak out of the house and dangle my feet in a brook," Penski blurted out before realizing she had gotten a little too personal with someone who was still essentially a stranger.

"Why would you have to sneak out of your house?" Muryah inquired, innocently.

At first Penski didn't reply, but, Muryah kept looking at her, inquisitively. With each passing moment, she felt more and more comfortable until she finally gave in.

"Well, my parents always wanted another child," she said, feeling embarrassed. "My mother couldn't bear any more children and neither of my parents believed they could build a strong enough connection to an adoptee. So, I ended up having to try to live up to the dreams they had made for two children. I was always studying, training or working. There...there just never seemed to be time for me."

"Well, there's time now," Muryah replied.

Penski gave Muryah a quizzical look.

"You mean dangle my feet now?" she asked. "I can't do that. I'm the captain."

"You're also a woman who obviously needs a break," Muryah answered, simply.

Penski only thought about it for a moment. She giggled like a schoolgirl, then reached up to the lapel of her uniform and pressed a button. She took off her boots and lowered her feet into the water. Surprisingly, the stream was cool. She'd expected it to be icy cold because it seemed to flow down from the direction of the mountains. She looked over at Muryah and smiled broadly for the first time in many years.

Back on the ship, Calloway heard most of the conversation between Calloway and Muryah. Then, his monitor went blank and he sighed. The others had disabled their uniform cameras as well. Their bio monitors - the devices that monitored their life functions - still worked, so Calloway could at least see if they were in any sort of distress.

He expected the actions out of Martine and the other civilians. Martine especially because she always promised not to violate the rules by turning off her uniform camera. Of course, the next day, she'd do it again. Now, though, the captain, who had enabled the others by not dishing out discipline for the violations, was tossing the regulations into the latrine herself.

He had been reading the personnel files of the crew of the Tomahawk for most of the day. All the crewmembers had seemed like fine, solid ISEA astronauts. He couldn't find a reason why they had become hateful enough to leave one of their own behind. It left him with another empty feeling.

Deciding he had no choice, he called up the probe program. There was no guarantee that Penski would launch the probe. Yet, someone had to inform ISEA and the colonists.

He took all the information that had transpired with Muryah and downloaded it into one of the remote-controlled probes. When launched into orbit, it would transmit its information to the nearest ISEA outpost. The sheer distance between 505-D and that outpost made it clear that no answer would be forthcoming for at least two days, even with the newest laser technology. Still, Calloway knew it was something he could control.

He finished downloading. He pushed more buttons and prepared for launch. Normally, engineers like him would have used the headset to command the ship's artificial intelligence to do the procedure. But Calloway loved doing it manually as a way to stay up-to-date and alert for emergencies. He typed in the launch code and, when the countdown reached zero, pushed a large red button.

Atop the ship, a hatch slid open and a circular platform rose up about a foot. On the platform was an oval cylinder, standing on end. With almost no noise, the cylinder launched itself, using magnetic waves to push away from the platform.

Down below, Calloway watched it gain altitude. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bolt of lightning ripped down from the sky, disintegrating the cylinder. The bolt kept coming, and struck the platform.

Calloway watched in astonishment as the incredible energy from the lighting bolt surged through the ship. He knew the ship would disperse the power, but something was wrong. It was as if the energy had a mind of its own and was following its own path.

Right towards him!

His console exploded in his face. He barely got his hands up in time. A split second later, the microchips and nanobyte chips melted and ignited in a brief but powerful blast. Calloway was flung away from the console and slammed like a rag doll against the opposite bulkhead. Mercifully, he slid into unconsciousness.

5.

Penski charged up the cargo bay ramp, Muryah right behind her. She turned left and headed aft for the engineering station. The door was already open by the time she got there. She stopped suddenly only to breathe a huge sigh of relief a few seconds later.

Calloway looked up at her, but turned away without saying a word. He had the cover of his console lifted up and Penski could see the fused wires and microchips beneath it. A server robot floated to Calloway's left. A wire stretched from its central panel to a small black box along the edge of the console's interior. The ship's artificial intelligence had determined what needed repairing and was transferring the information to the server robot.

"I'm okay, thanks for asking," Calloway snapped.

Penski noticed for the first time that Calloway's hands were bandaged with several wrappings of chryurylene, a standard compound used to speed up the healing of burns. She looked at her engineer a little closer and saw that he had some smudge marks on his face that appeared to be first-degree burns.

"What happened?" she asked, incredulously.

Calloway related the events right up to the explosion of the console in his face. Penski took it all in – rather calmly in Calloway's opinion – and asked about repair time. She finally turned to look at Muryah and asked if lightning bolts were as common and dangerous as what Calloway had experienced.

"We did see several incidents like this when the Tomahawk was here," she replied, nonchalantly. "But, I haven't seen any like this then, until now, I guess."

"If the AI and server robots can fix this, I suggest you go to your quarters and get some rest," Penski said to Calloway. "When the others return, I'll inform them of what happened. Martine can take a look at you. You might have a concussion. We'll talk about your launching the probe without authorization later."

Calloway didn't answer. He walked past Penski and didn't even bother to look at Muryah. He could feel her staring after him, but he kept going.

Once inside his quarters, he locked the door behind him. Then, it a fit of rage, he removed his cap and threw it against a bulkhead, cursing loudly as he did so. He collapsed on his bunk and fumed. His eyes zeroed in on the chronometer above his bed.

Six hours!

It had taken six hours for Penski to return to the ship. In six hours, the others should have been back as well. But, Penski was only a short distance away, in the forest. What had taken her so long to respond? He'd had enough time to get his hands and head treated, then go back to his station and begin repair assessments with the AI.

He began to go over things in his mind. The crew had taken a real shine to Muryah. They had listened to her words like schoolchildren to a teacher. They had all turned off the uniform visual devices. They had all been so wrapped up in their work that they hadn't noticed his life function monitor going haywire.

No, he thought to himself, that wasn't it. If they had been working, they would have paid attention to the life function monitor. They must have been playing. He had seen their faces as Muryah had told each of them about their specialties - mountains, the ocean, the weather, the plant life. His crewmates had become so absorbed in their own pleasures that they not only failed to come to his aid, but had failed to recognize he was even in need.

And it all seemed to be centered on an ill wind called Muryah.

Calloway said very little that night, save for brief responses to queries about his health. Muryah was not aboard, gone back to whatever cave she called home (another mystery that no one but him seemed concerned about). The others were too busy talking about all the wonders they had seen. Martine had shown Lee the beauty of the oceans and Harrigan had documented close to one hundred different types of animals around the mountains. Even Boronova could not stop talking about all the plant life she had discovered. Penski was sitting at the head of the cafeteria table, taking it all in with a big grin on her face.

"I think we need to take off."

At that, everyone stopped talking all at once and turned to look at Calloway, who had been as silent as a corpse for the past hour.

"You want to leave?" Penski said, genuinely startled. "Is something wrong?"

Calloway frowned. He looked down at his bandaged hands, but stopped himself from touching the generous bruise beneath his left eye. The swelling had gone down considerably, but he could still feel it.

"Well, according to regulations, we have to launch an information probe every three days," he said, finally. "Or sooner in special circumstances. In case you've forgotten, there is a ship with about a thousand colonists coming here in less than two weeks. They need to know what's going on, but the lightning strike has seriously damaged the launching platform. Even the AI says it will take another week to fix, unless..."

"Unless we take off and leave orbit," Penski finished. "Then we won't have to worry about launching through an atmosphere."

"I'm against it," Harrigan stated. "We're already behind schedule. Ye said so yourself, Mr. Calloway. Why waste more time? Or is there another reason?"

"Hey, don't make me out to be the villain," Calloway shot back, pushing his tray of food away. "I'm just following regulat..."

"Screw your freakin' regulations!" Boronova suddenly screamed, pounding the table with her fist in a display of emotion that shocked even her. "I don't care about your regulations. We all have jobs to do and we want to do them. If you want to stick to regulations, fine. But, I signed on to do research, not to be a military puppet like you."

At that, she became embarrassed and sat back in her seat. The others sat in shocked silence at her outburst. Calloway was practically glaring at her, but more so for being yelled at and humiliated by her in front of the rest of the crew.

Calloway pushed himself away from the table and left the cafeteria. He still had enough military discipline not to light into her for insubordination. Even though Boronova and the others were civilians, they, like Penski and Calloway, were members of ISEA. They had signed agreements binding them to the rules and regulations of the agency. They all had their share of responsibilities, to not only themselves and their fields of study, but also to the ISEA and mankind as a whole. Their current mission was much too important to be jeopardized like this.

Penski caught up with him in the passageway. At first, he walked away from her. She then caught him by an arm and forcefully turned him around to face her.

"I've been seriously thinking how important you are to the success of this mission," she said, sharply. "I'm of the opinion that you are a serious impediment to all of us."

"What?" Calloway spat. "I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm not slacking off like the rest of you."

Penski shook with anger. Calloway's last remark hurt, even if it might have been true. Penski was in command and her engineer's arrogance was undermining her own effectiveness as captain.

"Mr. Calloway, you are relieved of your duties," she said, coldly. "You may confine yourself to your quarters."

"Hold it a second," Calloway snapped. "What the hell have I done? Boronova's the one who snapped at me. All I suggested was taking off to launch an information probe."

"Yes and proper procedure should have made you discuss it with me first," Penski admonished. "Not bring it up before the whole crew. And let's not forget you launching that probe earlier when you knew I had already scheduled a launch. Both of your actions tell them you don't trust my judgment."

"No offense, Captain, but you haven't been yourself lately," Calloway said and immediately knew he'd made things worse.

"It was against my better judgment to have you on as engineer," she said, shaking her head in disgust. "I read your psych profile before the mission. Haven't been too successful in the social department, right? Maybe you don't like being bossed around by a woman. Or being shouted at by a woman. Or maybe you think Muryah is undermining your authority somehow. It seems amazing in this day and age that there are still a few chauvinist dinosaurs like you around."

Calloway seethed with anger and humiliation. Was this what it was like with the Tomahawk? Had the captain of that mission seen what Calloway now saw, sides of his crewmembers that were not pretty? Certainly what he'd seen from Penski had been ugly. She had dealt a low blow. Hoping to keep at least a shred of his dignity, he turned and walked away from her.

Muryah returned the next day and it was like she had never left. The only reminder of the previous night was Calloway and he was confined to his quarters, though every now and then he visited his engineering cubicle (when Muryah was not around) in a show of defiance. Muryah made time to talk to each crewmember, but could never get close to the engineer. When she showed the crew her cave (according to Harrigan, it was more like a comfortable fortress), Calloway stayed aboard. When Muryah stayed on board for a few days, Calloway remained in his quarters. He didn't even talk to his fellow crewmembers.

A day after Muryah's last visit, Calloway was forced to come up to the cafeteria for more food. It was too quiet. It hit him that the ship was empty.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "They all left. What the hell?"

Angrily, he stomped up to the bridge. He only found a three-dimensional holographic video message from Penski telling him the team had gone out individually to make final tests and check their equipment. She expected everyone to be back within a few days.

What idiots, he said to himself. They should have, at least, alerted him so he could monitor their progress. He might have been confined to quarters, but someone aboard had to watch out for crewmembers in the field. Hating the rules didn't mean getting rid of common sense.

After raiding the cafeteria for snacks, he went to his engineering cubicle and plopped himself down in his chair. It took only a minute to queue up the crews' monitoring devices. As expected, they had all turned their uniform cameras off. Same crap, different day. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the life function monitors...

...and blanched.

Harrigan's monitor was blinking yellow - a warning light.

Damn it to hell!

He activated the radio and tried to call the rest of the crew. He got no response.

Cursing loudly, he rushed out of his station and went to the cargo bay. In less than five minutes, he had loaded emergency medical supplies into the remaining ATV. He put two server robots into the rear and roared out of the ship. After ordering the AI to raise the ramp and seal the ship, he had it try raising the rest of the crew and vector them towards Harrigan's last known position.

During the drive, Calloway looked up and noticed a slew of ominously dark clouds looming. It looked a thunderstorm was gathering, but, according to Lee, the skies should have been clear for the next three weeks. Nothing about the past week had been normal, so why shouldn't the weather fail to cooperate, he mused.

It took Calloway about an hour to realize what Harrigan must have done. His position was much further than he had anticipated. The engineer came upon Harrigan's empty ATV two hours later at the base of the mountain, the one the zoologist had vowed to climb before leaving 505-D. During the trip, the monitor for Harrigan had begun blinking red, indicating a potentially life-threatening injury. It was still red, but it had stopped blinking.

Calloway sat in the ATV for a few minutes and hung his head. All sorts of emotions ran through his mind. He finally opened the ATV canopy and climbed out. Although it was a foregone conclusion, he opened the rear hatch and released the server robots while fishing out a small case of medical supplies.

He dug around in the interior of this ATV and pulled out a portable life function monitor. This one allowed him to home in on the exact location of Harrigan. Slowly, he began to follow the signal. He took his time. There was no longer a need to rush.

He found Harrigan thirty minutes later. Laying flat on his stomach, he crawled forward to the edge of an outcropping and peered over the ledge to the valley below. The mountain rose impossibly high from the base of the valley and Calloway wondered how high Harrigan had climbed before falling all the way to the bottom.

Even from a distance, with his binoculars in wide-angle mode, he could tell Harrigan was dead. Switching to maximum range for the telephoto option only confirmed the fact. Overhead, the clouds continued to gather and the sky rumbled ominously.

Calloway had to send the robots down to Harrigan's body. There was no way for him to get down there. Even worse, the position of the corpse prevented the robots from positioning themselves to lift it back up to the ATV. All Calloway could do was have the automatons bury the Scotsman where he lay, if only to keep any scavengers away. Later, he and the others could return for a formal memorial, maybe when he came back to retrieve Harrigan's ATV.

"Symbiotic, my ass," Calloway muttered, fighting back tears. "This damned planet killed him. It and that ill wind Muryah."

The trip back to the ship was long and agonizing. Calloway wished he had gotten to know the Scotsman a little better. Being by himself for the trip back to the ship, he had nothing to do but think about what had happened. His calls back to the Humboldt proved fruitless.

Suddenly, he turned the ATV and headed in a new direction. He had just had a horrifying thought. He'd been so keyed on Harrigan's life monitor that he had failed to track the others. Harrigan had ignored the rules (and common sense) in climbing alone, but by no means was he the only one among the crew who would act that way. There was one other.

He only hoped he would be in time.

He wasn't.

6.

It had taken ten minutes to override the controls of the ocean ATV and bring it back from its position, on the seabed a mile offshore. As it rolled out of the surf, Calloway stayed in his own vehicle at the edge of the beach. Only when the ocean ATV finally stopped did Calloway climb out of his own vehicle and approach from the driver's side.

The canopy had been shattered and the vehicle was empty. Calloway peered inside and saw a spear gun between the seats, floating in the dark water that had yet to drain out. It had been fired, but he saw no evidence of what Martine might have been shooting at. Then, he spied an object on the passenger seat, reached down and picked up something large, white and triangular.

It was sharp, too, slicing through the top layer of his protective gloves, which he wore as his hands still had not completely healed from the burns. He carefully laid the object flat in his palm and examined it closely. The edges were serrated, the tip pointed like a spear.

He shuddered when he realized what it was. Though he'd only seen the likes of it in history books and video clips, he was sure it was a shark's tooth. And its owner had to be massive, maybe half the size of a humpback whale, possibly like the extinct Earth Megalodon, a predecessor of the Great White.

He placed the tooth in the storage compartment of a server robot floating just behind his right shoulder and continued his examination of the ATV's interior. He reached for the spear gun. It seemed to be jammed, so he tugged a little harder and it came free.

It was then that he noticed two things around the base of the gun, each attached to something longer that hung down before stopping abruptly. Calloway gasped, dropped the spear gun and spun around, sickened. They were Martine's hands and forearms!

It wasn't too difficult to imagine what had happened. Not only had Martine gone into the ocean alone, she had probably left the safety of the ATV to explore the natural environment. It was a gross violation of the diver's code to go out alone; that had also applied to Harrigan with his mountain climbing. They both had ignored the rules.

More than likely, Martine had encountered the shark and fired her spear at it, to no effect because of its immense size. She had fled back to the ATV, hoping to find safety from the pursuing creature. She'd made it inside, but the enormity of the thing had made the ATV a useless kind of protection. Calloway prayed her end was swift.

Suddenly, one of the server robots sounded its shrill alarm. Calloway looked up, barely stifled a scream and scrambled back to his own ATV. Coming out of the surf was a maw filled with humongous teeth.

He wouldn't have believed had he seen it on one of his vid-flicks back on the ship. The shark was much bigger than he imagined. Not only that, it was surviving out of the water and walking on its fins!

The shark came ashore and sniffed at Martine's demolished ATV. Then, it glared at Calloway, clearly sniffing the air. Had it become accustomed to human flesh because of Martine and now wanted the engineer as well?

The shark clamped its jaws onto the wrecked ATV and slowly dragged it back into the surf. It seemed to detect Martine's scent and wanted to finish the job it started. So intent was it to get the vehicle back into the water that it barely noticed Calloway's bullets stinging its head like angry hornets.

Unfortunately, since the ISEA counted on its advanced technology to identify and avoid threats, it hadn't seen fit to include heavy weapons for its deep-space missions. Clearly, it could not know that its scanners would be fooled by this planet's ocean. That didn't mean that Calloway was ill-prepared, however and, right now, Calloway was angry. Angry at Martine's stupid death. Angry at his ineffectual pistol. Angry at planet 505-D.

Using his own ATV's command system, he overrode the ocean ATV's backup system. He forced the door to the power compartment to open. Then, reloading his pistol, he emptied an entire magazine into the power coupling, making it spark and flash. Just as the vehicle slipped under the waves, he purposely sent one of his server robots directly into the live power reactor.

The explosion sent a geyser of water fifty feet into the air. Calloway barely had time to get back inside his vehicle and pull down the canopy before a curtain of water cascaded down it. He couldn't help but notice the chunks of meat and gore now clinging to his windshield.

He left his ATV again and while his remaining robot cleaned his vehicle, he approached the water's edge, reloaded pistol in hand. Blood-soaked sea foam washed up on the sand. Farther out, the water had turned crimson. Calloway smiled and then went back to his ATV before any other predators of this deadly ocean called to scavenge the remains of Martine's killer.

Drops of moisture hit Calloway's shoulders and head. He looked up. The sky was much darker now and looked very angry. To him, it was about right.

The cargo bay ramp was down when Calloway finally returned to the Humboldt. At least one other member of the crew had seen fit to return. When he stopped inside the bay, however, he spotted two hover cycles in a far corner. No one ever returned any of the vehicles to their proper spots, but he was much too remorseful to be angry.

After putting the ATV back into its proper slot, he programmed the server robot to service it. He then climbed out and made his way slowly to the cafeteria. He wasn't surprised at all that no one had met him in the cargo bay upon his return. In fact, nothing at all surprised him anymore regarding their actions.

Along the way, he stopped by the ship's armory. He typed in his command code so he could retrieve more ammunition for his weapon. Sadly, he felt he might need protection for himself from the planet in case Muryah's talk of "symbiosis" was really true.

Strangely, the door wouldn't open. He keyed his code in again, but the door still wouldn't budge. Even his verbal request to the AI for alternate access was denied. He had been locked out. Fuming, he could figure on one reason - Penski.

He strode purposefully towards the cafeteria. Sure enough, the rest of the crew was there, sitting quietly at the table. Muryah was also there. She didn't even bother to look up at him when he entered. He just stood in the doorway, glaring at the people he thought were his crewmates.

When someone finally spoke, it wasn't Penski, but Muryah.

"Let me say how sorry I am at the loss of your crewmates," she said. "But, you had no right."

Calloway said nothing, too stunned to respond. He could see her knowing about Harrigan, but not about Martine. He had only found out about her on a wild guess. There was no way Muryah could have known if Veronica was dead, unless...the symbiosis claim was valid.

"This planet speaks to me," Muryah continued, as if she sensed his questioning. "I...I felt their deaths. I am mourning for them."

A light bulb seemed to go on in Calloway's head and, finally, he understood.

Now, it was clear. It explained the strange storm clouds that had mysteriously appeared over both of the death sites. Muryah was in tune with the planet, incredible as it sounded. But, hadn't she made the place sound like a paradise? Hadn't she said the planet provided for its life forms?

"What did you mean I had no right?" Calloway demanded.

"You had no right to kill the shark," Muryah spat, her visage turning angry. "It was acting according to its instinct."

"It killed Martine," Calloway shot back, incensed. "My crewmate. You do remember what a crewmate is, don't you?"

"Calloway, that was uncalled for," Penski interrupted.

"The creature did not attack you, yet you attacked it," Muryah stated. "You killed it. You are totally opposed to everything this world stands for."

Calloway ran a hand over his face and turned away for a moment to avoid doing something he might regret. When somewhat calmed, he turned back to face his accuser.

"You call this a paradise, Muryah?" he said. "Martine and Harrigan are dead. How convenient that you left out the part about how death is a part of even paradise. Why? I mean, I really have to know. If this is paradise, are you Eve or the serpent?"

"That's enough!" Penski roared, stepping forward and getting right in her engineer's face. "These were accidents, pure and simple. The only intentional act was yours."

That sounded about right. He was the bad guy. Again.

"Self defense is what I call it," Calloway countered. "But, if it will make everyone feel better, I apologize. Everyone satisfied? Seriously, though, Captain, we need to report this. The AI tells me the probe launch is still down, which leaves us just one option. As I suggested before, I say we take off immediately and put into low orbit, at least. That'll be enough to get a signal out, unhindered."

"I've already brought it up with the crew," Penski replied, moving away from him and back toward her chair. "We've decided to complete the mission."

"Complete the mission?" he exploded. "Two of our people our dead, Captain. This isn't about putting another feather in a cap or notch on a belt or whatever it is that completing these missions gets us. It's our responsibility..."

"I know what my responsibilities are, Mister Calloway," Penski shot back, as she rose up quickly out of her chair. "My whole life has been about nothing but responsibilities. So, don't lecture me, Commander."

"I agree with the captain."

Calloway suddenly realized Lee was in the room. The man had been almost invisible the past week, less talkative than Boronova, who had lately become the chatterbox. Calloway turned to look at the meteorologist.

"I think we should stay a little longer," Lee said. "Maybe even after the colonists arrive. What Muryah has told us has prurient scientific value that must be explored. I want to explore them.

"And, please, no more of your lectures on regulations and responsibilities. I am carrying the hopes and dreams of more than two billion people on my shoulders. I know far more about responsibilities than you ever could, Commander. Mine can't be found in some handbook from the engineering academy. I vote that we stay."

For the first time, Calloway noticed how tired Lee had looked. But, now that the meteorologist had gotten the words out of his system, he seemed happier, almost relieved. As if some great burden had lifted off his shoulder. Calloway realized now how little he really knew about his crewmates.

Right on cue, Boronova let Calloway have it.

"I guess that's it, Commander," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Democracy in action. Funny, I think this is the first time I've actually had a say in anything in my life. My parents died when I was young, so I had to take on the responsibility of raising my siblings. Everything I did was for them. Even when I had time to myself, I used it for them.

"Now, I have that opportunity. I can still do what I love and have some free time all to myself. You don't realize how great it is to just be able to sit down all by yourself and do what you want, without someone asking for something or demanding something like it's his or her birthright. I also vote that we stay."

Calloway looked daggers at Muryah. He had no doubt that she had been talking with all them. She had had long conversations with Martine and Harrigan and now they were dead because of something foolish.

"Captain, may I have word with you outside?" Calloway asked, simply.

He and Penski moved to the passageway and waited for the door to the cafeteria to slide shut. Penski eyed him coolly. No doubt she suspected his true motive: to attempt use of his military authority to override the others.

"Captain, the mission is over," Calloway started. "Two of our people are dead. Everybody's acting crazy, shirking responsibilities and look where it's gotten us. Martine went diving alone, which is a cardinal sin for someone that experienced. Same for Harrigan, climbing without even server robots."

"Like I said before, those were accidents," Penski replied, with some consternation. "It's tragic, but there have been tragedies on previous space missions."

"Like the Tomahawk?"

Penski eyed her engineer coolly. If he wasn't treading on thin ice before, he was about to break through it now.

"Don't push your luck, Commander," she practically snarled. "As I was saying. There have been tragedies before. We can deal with them and still do our jobs. We are professionals, remember?"

Calloway couldn't believe what he was hearing. It sounded as if nothing that had happened so far had fazed the captain. She was in her own world and she wasn't going to let anything intrude upon it.

"Have you lost your mind, Captain?" he snapped, not regretting his words this time. "We have to leave and leave now."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Penski yelled, catching Calloway off-guard. "I'm not your little girl anymore!"

She whirled and walked away, leaving a flabbergasted and perplexed Calloway in her wake.

An hour later, a sullen Calloway sat in his engineering station and punched at a myriad of buttons on his console. Occasionally, he tried to issue voice commands to the AI. All in vain. Penski had shut him out of virtually every command function that might allow him to take control of the ship. He couldn't even launch in an emergency.

A soft hiss filled the space as the door slid open and then closed. He didn't even bother to acknowledge the visitor. Right away, he knew it could only be Muryah Abernathy.

"Yes, may I help you?"

"What's wrong?" Muryah asked in her same pleasant, unaffected voice. "Why is it so hard for you to accept the beauty of this planet and all it has to offer?"

"Because your planet killed two of my crewmates," he replied, curtly but sharply.

"Was the captain right?" Muryah continued, unfazed. "She mentioned someone hurt you? What's your story?"

Calloway said nothing at first. He was shocked. Penski had mentioned private items from his psych file to Muryah. He had been hurt several times before in romance. He had joked about past relationships many times, but that gave Penski no right to reveal his file to strangers.

"Look, my personal life is none of your business," Calloway said, coldly. "You can leave now."

But, Muryah didn't leave. Instead, she moved around Calloway and took the empty chair next to his. He tried not to look at her, but she pulled at him and forced him to look at her.

"They said you were the glue that holds this ship together," Muryah stated. "Always quick with a joke; making everyone laugh to lighten up a serious situation. I haven't heard that laughter. You've changed, like the others. But, your friends, they've changed for the better.

"You heard them up there in the cafeteria. They had been holding things inside and it was hurting them. Now that they've gotten those things out, you can see how much better they are."

Calloway looked at Muryah quizzically. He couldn't imagine his crewmates saying anything nice about him. Was Muryah lying to break through his defenses?

"But, not you," she continued. "You've lost your sense of humor. You seem angry all the time. Why not let it out. Tell me what's hurting you?"

Calloway tried not to listen to her words. But, there she was, looking at him with those beautiful eyes. It had been much too long since he had been able to talk to anyone, he thought. Suddenly, before he knew it, her lips were on his and he didn't resist.

"It can always be like this, Devin," she said, using his first name for the first time. "I don't know what it is, but I've felt something for you since I first saw you. And I think you feel it, too. Let me show you what this planet truly has to offer you. To offer us. Let me show you what you've been missing."

Calloway didn't respond and Muryah looked confused. She tried to kiss him again, but he stopped her. He then gently pushed her away.

"Why now?"

"Why now what?" a puzzled Muryah asked.

"Before, I couldn't get the time of day from you," Calloway explained, pushing his seat back to gain a little more space between them. "I was never in on your little plans with the rest of the crew. I mean, it wasn't enough that you turned my crewmates against me or that I got electrocuted? But, then, I kill that shark and prove what a real threat I am to this so-called paradise of yours and, suddenly, I get a personal date with you? Forget about my story. What's your story? Who are you really, Muryah?"

"What?" she replied. "You know who I am. I'm Muryah Abernathy."

"I'm not so sure," Calloway retorted. "The Muryah Abernathy I read about went through most of the same training as Martine and Harrigan. In order to be assigned to a deep-space mission, she would have to pass an in-depth psychological evaluation. So, in order for her to be before me spewing enough saccharine to sweeten that damned ocean, she would have to have suffered some traumatic incident. Something frightening enough or incapacitating enough to make her forget being rational."

"But, you don't have to be angry anymore, Devin," Muryah almost begged. "You wouldn't have any responsibilities. The planet can take care of that for us."

"Give it a rest, Muryah," Calloway snorted. "You sound like a broken record. We're adults and adults have responsibilities. And just like me, this planet has its responsibilities."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Muryah asked.

"You're just like a child and you don't want to remember anything bad," Calloway explained. "You remember how your crewmates acted and you shut that out. But, this planet doesn't. You can regress to what you think are better times, but life's not so easy. It should have occurred to me long before now, you were right.

"This planet does take care of its own. Animals have to eat, Muryah. That's why Martine is dead now. Death is as much a part of life as we are, and so it has to exist here on 505-D, to keep the circle of life going. I think that's why Harrigan had to fall off that mountain. The planet couldn't save him because it would upset the balance. If it saves him, why not other life forms? Don't you get it?"

If she got it, she didn't let on. Instead, Muryah, looking as if she wanted to cry, turned and left the workstation. Calloway got up, but didn't bother following her. Instead, he stopped next to an air vent and leaned against a bulkhead to collect his thoughts. That's when a sound coming through the vent assaulted his ears.

"What the?" he muttered, pushing himself upright. "What are these idiots doing now?"

He opened the door and strode to the ladder. Now, he clearly heard the angry shouts emanating from the cargo bay. Concerned, he climbed the ladder as quick as he could, walked quickly down a passageway and stepped into the bay. What Calloway saw startled him.

Penski and Boronova were holding pistols on one another. Boronova stood at the top of the ramp while Penski was by the remaining ATV. Lee stood almost between them, like a boxing referee. If one or the other fired, he surely would be hit, possibly killed. Watching it all from the sidelines was Muryah.

"What the hell is going on here?" Calloway demanded, wary that either woman could turn the pistol on him.

"She started it," Boronova spat. "Lee and I were going to leave the ship but she tried to stop us."

"No, it was her," Penski shot back. "She's the one who wanted to be by herself, but now, she wants Lee all to herself. Can't you see?"

"That doesn't make any sense," Calloway blurted.

This was, indeed, surreal. Yes, he'd noticed the flirtations between Boronova and Lee, but hadn't paid them too much mind. Lee had seemed too preoccupied with meteorology to settle into a long-term relationship with anyone.

The kicker was the captain. How had she regressed in her discipline to this sad state of affairs? Had her comment to him before – the one demanding that he not tell her what to do – foreshadowed this moment?

"Jeez and I'm supposed to be the immature one?" he noted. "You're acting like children, for God's sake. Put the guns down and let's talk like professionals."

That idea went over everyone's head. Nice idea, Calloway said to himself. They'd been barreling toward this point for the past week at least. How was he supposed to reverse that with a few choice words? Especially since they'd all made it plainly clear that they didn't respect his opinions or want to follow his previous suggestions.

"Muryah, is this your idea of a paradise?" Calloway asked, sternly. "People pointing guns at each other? Putting friendships in danger, not to mention lives? How is the captain trying to reclaim her lost childhood going to help anyone, much less this planet?"

Muryah couldn't know that Calloway was groping blindly for explanations because she was too busy shaking her head in disbelief. She, too, seemed stunned by the turn of events. She might have spent a decade on this planet and she might have had some kind of symbiotic relationship with it, but she was still immature and naïve when it came to truly understanding how 505-D really affected human emotions

"Marie, Janice, please put down the guns and let's talk about this," Calloway reasoned.

Both women lowered their weapons slightly. They seemed startled, but Calloway felt it to be more of a reaction to him using their first names for the first time since they had left Earth. Then, their demeanors reverted and the guns went back up. Lee, meanwhile, acted like a jerk, telling both women there was enough of him to go around.

"Lee, shut up," Calloway snapped. "Before they put a hurting on those shoulders."

Just then, the ship shook violently. Penski and the others stumbled and she accidentally pulled the trigger. The gun barked once as she fell to the deck. It took a moment for everyone to hear the extremely loud claps of thunder and the pounding of rain against the hull.

A few seconds after that, they turned and saw the body lying prone on the deck, wisps of smoke still rising from the bullet hole in the chest.

Boronova rolled over and sat up. Trying to clear her head, she looked down the ramp and saw that it had grown pitch black outside, save for the intense lightning that lit up the skies. By the dim light trickling down from the cargo bay, she could see the fierce winds driving the rain sideways across the ramp.

Lee saw it, too, and it frightened him. He had studied the weather patterns carefully for this world, so he knew something was not right with this storm. Putting the matter aside, he pulled Boronova to her feet and, knowing they couldn't take the hover cycles, he led her to remaining ATV. Moments later, they had left the ship, chancing that the ATV could survive this unprecedented storm.

Penski just watched them leave. She could have cared less. She had been stupid and it had cost her - her dignity, her pride, her self-respect. Finally, she pulled herself to her feet and saw...

...Calloway laying flat on the deck. She couldn't miss the smoke rising from his chest. Penski gasped and cried out. She had shot her engineer. He had taken a lethal laser-guided bullet from her pistol. Muryah leaned over him, sobbing hysterically.

"What have I done?" Penski murmured, shaking her head vigorously, as if she could shake the memory away. "What have I done?"

She dropped the gun to the deck, turned and fled into the interior of the ship. Behind her, Muryah continued to sob. Outside, the storm seemed to intensify.

7.

Muryah stumbled into the engineering station and took Calloway's seat. She tried to dry her cheeks, but it was of little use. The tears were still flowing freely, much like they had that day long ago. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to erase that terrible memory.

It was then that she noticed the item on the computer screen. It was a likeness of her. She looked closer and gasped when she saw that it was her personnel profile. But, it was different than the one her captain on the Tomahawk had access to. This one showed everything, even her other name of...

"Penland."

Muryah jumped and half-screamed, turning to look at the figure in the doorway.

It was Calloway!

He stepped inside, moving slowly. He seemed to be moving rather stiffly and Muryah could see the look of excruciating pain on his face as he made his way towards her. Finally, he stopped, then moved around her and collapsed into the alternate seat. Muryah turned to face him, as if she were watching a ghost.

"I was perusing...that file before you walked in...last time," Calloway gasped. "The captain may have locked me out of most of the systems on this ship, but I'm...still the engineer. I have a few backdoors in the system, things even Captain Penski can't get into. Like accessing your entire...personnel file."

"You...you were dead," Muryah murmured. "I saw you die."

"No, no, you're thinking of my sense of humor," Calloway answered, with a pained grimace. "As for me, I'm wearing a protective vest. Flexible armor. I-I've worn it ever since your planet...tried to kill me with that lightning bolt. Lucky me, eh? Most...most people don't get shot...by their captain unless they really...really deserve it."

"So, you're okay then?"

"No, I've been shot. Weren't you paying attention?"

Muryah still looked confused, but Calloway couldn't blame her. It would take more than a little parlor magic to solve her problem. He slouched a little more in his seat.

"So, what's your story, Muryah?" he grunted, as he tried to find a more comfortable sitting position to ease the pain and make it easier to breathe. "Or should I say Miss Penland?"

Muryah had a wild look on her face. She started to stand, but the ship shook again violently and tossed her back into her seat. Calloway glanced up briefly at the sound of the thunder getting louder. The wind buffeted the ship even more, so much so that, with great difficulty, he had to strap himself into his seat. He leaned over and did the same for Muryah.

"You changed your name a few years...before joining ISEA, Muryah," Calloway continued. "Why? You got the others to speak out about what was hurting them, but...we know nothing about you? What kind of pain were you in that would make you want to abandon Earth and...stay here? You have family back home? What about them?"

Muryah refused to answer; just kept shaking her head. She fumbled at the lock of the seatbelt, but couldn't get it undone quickly. She stopped, then tried again, but stopped again when Calloway reached forward and put his hands over hers. She looked up, mouth agape and stared directly into his eyes.

And she let it all out.

"Oh, God, I am so sorry," she sobbed.

The ship shook even more violently and Calloway heard something break in the cargo bay. He ignored it, knowing the AI and server robots would contain any damage. Instead, he leaned forward and lifted Muryah's head with one hand. He might not have had the best personality, but he hadn't made it this far in the ISEA without being able to mentor and counsel people. As he looked at Muryah, he could only wonder if this approach might have worked better in his dealings with the others instead of his being a hard case.

"I...I killed someone," she whispered. "I...I was my father's favorite. I used to...tease all the boys. Make them fight over me. I thought it gave me power over them. I liked the attention.

"But, I went too far. I teased some of them and then some other boys got into it and started a big fight. One of the boys fell and hit his head. He...he died. I didn't mean for it to happen. I told my father that, but he...he couldn't see. He only saw how I had hurt the family name and he blamed me. They all blamed me."

"They...they disowned me," she continued, her tears now flowing so freely that she didn't even bother to try to wipe them away. "My own father. My own siblings. I had nothing. I had to leave. I...I ran and ran, but I couldn't get away. I tried to make it up. I tried, but they wouldn't let me forget. So...I tried helping other people. I thought maybe if I did, that God would forgive me, help me go back home. But, it never helped.

"That's why I signed up for the mission. The training gave me a new purpose, something to focus on. Otherwise I could never have passed my psych evaluation. But, I did and volunteered for 505-D."

Calloway made a mental note to remind ISEA to revamp its psychological testing methods. Provided he made it back to ISEA.

"I wanted to leave it all behind," Muryah went on. "Then, when I found this paradise, I thought I could finally be free. Do what I wanted. Not have the nightmares anymore. But, the crew, they started fighting with each other. It was like with my family all over again. When the ship took off, I was glad."

Calloway felt like an idiot. Had he been less confrontational, he might have found this out sooner. Instead, he'd treated Muryah's visit as some kind of intrusion into his life, a threat to everything he believed in. Maybe that's why ISEA had picked Penski over him to lead the mission. Truth be known, it wasn't – or shouldn't have been – news to him. Other senior officers had indicated his confrontational nature as a bad mark on previous evaluations.

"When your crewmates died," Muryah continued after catching her breath, "I started believing I was causing it all over again. I tried to convince myself that it wasn't me. But, then when you got shot, it all came back. I had caused someone to die again. Oh, God, I am so sorry. It's all my fault. All this wouldn't have happened if it hadn't been for me."

Calloway leaned forward again and released Muryah's seatbelt. He drew her into his arms, held her and, despite his own discomfort, let her cry on his shoulder. She cried for a long time. When she finally stopped, Calloway let her go. Then, he told her it wasn't her fault.

"Not my fault?" she questioned. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Listen."

Muryah stopped and listened. It was quiet. She realized the storm had stopped.

"It was you, Muryah," Calloway said. "You were right about the planet. It does provide for its life forms. It takes care of its life forms and it responds to them as well. When you hurt, the planet hurts. When Martine and Harrigan died, it reacted with dark clouds, like remorse. When I killed the shark, the skies became angry."

Calloway stopped to let a wave of pain pass.

"And when you began to question yourself during the confrontation in the cargo bay, the planet could no longer hold back," he said when the discomfort subsided. "You let it all out and so did the planet. That's why you and the captain and the others can't lose control of your emotions. The planet is going to react and if the emotions are heated, so will the planet's reactions be."

Muryah sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her uniform.

"Think about it, Muryah," Calloway continued. "Martine and her love of the ocean. Harrigan and the mountains. Janice and the desire to have time by herself without being needed by everyone else. By Lee, who didn't want to carry the weight of so many people. By even the captain, who had worked so hard to please her parents that she never had time for herself. It's all a recipe for disaster."

Calloway shifted in his seat and tried to take deeper breaths. Talking so much in his condition had taxed him. For Muryah, it was a needed respite, as she seemed lost in her thoughts.

"I-I don't understand," Muryah said. "Why...why is it a disaster?"

"Look, this is all guesswork," Calloway answered. "So far, you were the only intelligent...being on this world, at least by human standards. The planet attuned itself to you as that higher life form. Now, it has my crewmates' emotions to react to. You're all clashing as the planet tries to accommodate everyone at the same time, as well as helping the lower life forms. It can't continue...like this."

"Wh-what do we do now?" Muryah asked, innocently.

"I have to go," he answered, matter-of-factly. "I have to warn the colonists not to come here. Can you imagine three thousand souls affected by this planet? It would be an absolute catastrophe. I have to get this ship off the ground and you have to help me."

"How can I help?" Muryah queried. "What about your crewmates?"

"The planet reacts to your emotions most of all, Muryah," Calloway replied. "As the original higher life form. If you accept that I need to leave, then the planet shouldn't stop me from lifting off. I hope."

Muryah stayed silent for a long time. To Calloway, it looked as if she was calculating the chances of him being right.

"I can circle around and pick up the others," he added. "If they want me to."

"Okay, I-I'll help you," Muryah agreed.

"Alright then," he said. "Let's take off. You weren't involved in takeoff and landing procedures aboard Tomahawk, were you?"

Muryah shook her head.

"Figures," he murmured. "Well, give me a moment to override the captain's lockout. Looks like she bailed on me, too. The AI isn't finding her anywhere onboard."

Calloway had to dig deep into his various backdoor programs to override Penski's lockout. Fortunately, this was a dire emergency, as more than a few of them could have gotten him court-martialed. Despite there being only Calloway to handle the ship, the Humboldt took off. The AI helped, but it was rough going because of the way the planet's atmosphere ionized parts of the hull. Well, Calloway mused, ISEA regulations required that the ship's engineer should be able to run the ship by himself in an emergency, but they had never promised him a smooth trip.

Fortunately, Muryah's radio call had reached Boronova. She was waiting as the ship landed hard in a grassy field. She was dry and warm as she had been inside the ATV during the storm, but, she still wanted to be alone and nothing Calloway said could convince her otherwise. She still wanted to stay. He didn't see Lee anywhere and he didn't bother to ask. It was confusing, but so were human emotions.

Calloway never found Lee. The meteorologist had separated from Janice during the storm, setting out on foot when she had told him she didn't want him around every waking moment. He had shouted that he was heading back to the ship, telling her that Penski would take him. Maybe he stopped to enjoy the rainstorm, Calloway hoped.

That just left Captain Penski and Calloway knew she would be the toughest case of all. She and Calloway had clashed fiercely and some things were more difficult to forgive than others were. Calloway eventually located her near the mouth of Muryah's cave. He brought the ship down almost to the ground, but couldn't land because of the rocky surface. He had to set the ship to hover, with the AI attempting to adjust for the tricky winds channeling through nearby crevices and gulches.

"It's actually good to hear your voice," Penski said through her lapel microphone.

Jeez, Calloway muttered, that was definitely a backhanded compliment. Maybe the wounds opened earlier were still too raw to deal with.

"Are you okay?" Penski queried.

"Well, I've been ostracized, electrocuted, relieved of duty and shot," Calloway answered, curtly. "I don't think they treated Magellan this badly. Other than that, I'm fine. Look, Captain, I'm going up to warn the colonists. I'd appreciate your expertise in handling this ship. It's difficult with just me."

"I'm sorry, Devin," Penski declined, her voice sounding glad. "I can't go back. Not now. Not after the way I've acted. It was definitely not conduct becoming an officer."

"Hey, I can let bygones be bygones," Calloway said, as a couple of hard coughs racked his body.

"Thank you, Commander, but I'd still know," Penski replied. "I need time to work my issues out. I need to relive the time I've missed out on. I-I'm staying."

In the cockpit, Calloway let his head hang heavily. Though he'd argued with Penski, he had to admire her. She stuck by her convictions, even if he thought those convictions to be not worth staying behind for.

"No, Marie, you can't stay," Muryah interjected, leaning over Calloway to get to the radio. "Devin's more hurt than he's letting on. He might get the ship into space but at what price?"

"You don't understand, Muryah," Penski objected.

"I understand that you're captain of this ship," Muryah countered. "And you're ultimately responsible."

Calloway's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected Muryah to be an advocate for responsible behavior. Maybe she was beginning to learn.

"I'm going to have Devin lower the ramp, Marie," Muryah continued. "I'll come out and you come back aboard."

She cut off the conversation and then made her way toward the cockpit door.

"It'll be okay, Devin," she said, turning to look back. "I think once she's away from the planet and not under its influence, she'll be okay. Oh and thank you."

"For what?"

"For reminding me of my own responsibilities," she said.

"What responsibilities?"

"I'm responsible for them now," she replied, with a smile. "For Lee and Janice, maybe even the captain if she decides to come back one day. I have to show them how to live in harmony with the planet, how to survive like I did, so that they don't upset the balance of life. Goodbye, Devin."

Calloway looked up at the monitors and watched Muryah navigate the long corridors until she got to the cargo bay. He then pressed a button to lower the ramp. He watched her walk down the ramp and step across to the flat surface of the rock formation above her cave where Penski lent a hand to keep her steady. He watched the pair hug tightly before the captain disengaged and walked into the ship. He then closed the ramp and slowly moved the ship away.

Within a few minutes, the door to the cockpit slid open and Penski stepped inside. She couldn't look at the engineer. Instinctively, he slid out of the captain's chair and took the co-pilot's seat. Penski started to object, but finally nodded her appreciation of the gesture and took her spot at the helm.

"Devin, I..."

"Save it for later, okay, Captain." Calloway interrupted. "It feels like an elephant's sitting on my chest."

He stared up at the monitors that showed all views around the ship. He watched Muryah waving as the ship rose slowly above the rocky outcroppings and into free sky. Then, Penski activated the retro jets and finally, the afterburners, leaving a trail of vapor through the atmosphere.

"I know we had our differences of opinion, Captain," Calloway said after the ship had escaped the planet's atmosphere. "But, it's good to have you back."

Penski merely nodded, perhaps needing more time to find the words to properly apologize.

"You'd better report to the infirmary, Commander," she suggested. "The AI's not as good as Martine, but it will do in a pinch. At least until we rendezvous with the colonists and get you to their doctor. Oh, and don't worry. I won't send off a radio message from here and then land back planetside."

"Are you sure you can handle it, ma'am?" Calloway asked. "I could stay and help, at least until we reach the first beacon."

"That would be helpful, but you really have to report to sick bay," Penski replied. "Regulations, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Calloway acknowledged, a thin smile playing across his lips at the inference. "Wake me when we get there, please."

With that, he left the cockpit and made his way aft. His chest ached but he wasn't sure if it was from the bullet or maybe something else. At least, he thought, he'd have someone to dream about, with no regulations to get in the way.

Surprised he'd actually thought that, he made his way into the infirmary.

\- 30 -

The following is an excerpt from Hunters, the new novel by Gregory Marshall Smith, available from Red Hot Publishing...

Hunters

Prologue

Kane could not believe his luck. In all his years of hunting and prowling, he had never found a woman so exquisite. He pulled back, gazing longingly into her eyes.

He smiled as her near perfect body writhed in the ecstasy he'd now given her. He felt an incredibly strong pull from this seemingly delicate creature, trying to take him back down to her as they lay on the grass. She was completely oblivious to anything, except the sensations he knew must be sweeping through her body.

The rustle of the trees. The crush of leaves across the jogging path. The almost hypnotic lapping of the Trinity River against a nearby boat dock. All of these served to make the intercourse of Kane and the woman, known as Heidi Nguyen, as close to love-making as either had experienced in far too long.

Kane smiled and, in that moment, decided she had to be his. There could be no leaving her to wake up in the daylight, groggy and unsure of what had happened. He knew he'd regret it much longer than she would, if she even vaguely remembered him at all.

Pulling back his lips, he bared his inhumanly long incisors and plunged them back into her throat. At that, she peaked yet again, arching her back and shaking as she clung to him like a second skin. All the while, he drank furiously, with each drop of her blood taking her closer to his world and further from hers.

"So, you like this, do you?" Kane said, pulling back for a breath of air. "Trust me, my dear. You'll come to love giving this to others very soon."

He hadn't known what drove this lovely young woman to suddenly get out of a car on the Main Street Bridge and walk down to the poorly lit jogging path along the river; but he didn't care. He'd felt her blood pulsing through her veins because she had been angry, possibly at the man in the car. That did not matter now, it was her mistake, and his fortune, that allowed him to pull her into the shadows under the bridge.

Kane never had a problem attracting women. He'd once been one of Europe's top fashion models, with long wavy hair, a chiseled jaw and muscles like granite, features he kept even after being turned. But, he had only attracted shallow women, who did not have the intellect to sustain the kind of relationship he craved.

It would not be so with Heidi Nguyen. She was beautiful, her body sensuous and powerful. He could feel the intellect flowing behind her almond-shaped eyes. He felt himself blessed by the fates, she'd allowed emotions to overrule that intellect at just the right time for him.

Suddenly, his senses flared, like a four-alarm fire. Someone was coming. He pressed a hand lightly over Heidi's mouth, melting back into the shadows, nearly becoming one with the darkness. He knew he could easily kill whoever was stupid enough to interfere, but he had someone else to think about now. A cry of help from this stranger, before he died, might elicit the police and force him to abandon his newfound love. No, he needed to err on the side of caution and, if need be, strike at the most opportune time.

Then, to his surprise, he sensed more than one presence. He sniffed the air. Human. He could only wonder why they were on this jogging path, at this ungodly hour; and, he thought with an involuntary shudder, they were walking deliberately toward the bridge. He caught his breath, the silhouettes now producing flashlight beacons to stab into the darkness, playing them across the shadows, toward him.

Impulsively, he leapt forth into the nearest beam, fangs bared, hands now transformed into clawed weapons that could rend flesh as easily as a knife through butter.

"Another fly come to my web?" he said, fiercely. "Or a hyena trying to steal the kill? Which will it be?"

Kane never saw who shot him, but he felt it. The intense pain, as something pierced his thick skin, embedding itself deep into his chest, was nearly unbearable. He could not scream, his mind racing wildly as it fought to comprehend its sudden change in status – from hunter to prey.

"Y-you dare," he gasped as he staggered back, acting more like a man offended than one who'd been assaulted. "D-don't you know who I am? We own this town."

"Yeah, well, we should all have a dream," a deep, disembodied voice replied.

The pain in Kane's chest was excruciating. He looked down at the stubby piece of wood protruding from his torso. His usually sharp mind could not comprehend what it was.

His legs gave up and he felt himself falling – he gasped for air and feebly waved a clawed hand at his attackers. Soon, he found himself tumbling into shadows much darker than that from which he had sprung.

Alas, even the thought at having finally found eternal companionship abandoned him, for his final thoughts did not include a wisp of Heidi Nguyen.

Above Kane's body, the two silhouettes stopped. One stepped forward, into the moonlight, pulling something long and shiny from somewhere on his person. He raised it and, with one swing, made sure Kane would never take the blood of anyone again.

"God, I hate it when you do that, Ryker," said the woman next to him.

"Show some backbone," the man called Ryker snorted. "For a change."

The woman glared at him, but stopped when she heard a moan nearby. She played her flashlight back into the shadows. Cursing, she moved over to Heidi's body.

She didn't pay attention as Kane's corpse suddenly flared up like a match, dying out almost as quickly. Caring only about Kane's victim, she called Ryker over to her.

"What about her?" she queried, sounding forlorn and sad. "She's lost a lot of blood. She's well into the turn. You know we can't let that happen."

"No, we can't," Ryker agreed. "But she might be one for the doc."

"Always the pretty ones, right Cantrell?" the female commented, with disgust.

"Au contraire. I saved you, didn't I?"

Glaring at him, the woman fought the urge to hit him with her flashlight.

"Very funny," she said finally. "Okay, check her out then. If you think she's worth salvaging, we'll take her. But, if she can't be helped, you're the one who has to finish her."

"So I have to do all the work, eh?" Ryker commented. "What else is new?"

Ryker looked down into Heidi's eyes, feeling pity instantly. He knew she was yet another innocent victim, in a war she didn't know had been declared. He saw her eyes darting wildly side to side, as if the brain behind them could not handle what was happening to it. Shaking his head, he checked her throat, touched her carotid artery, and looked at her skin pallor.

"I'm truly sorry about this, Miss," Ryker said. "I really am. But, it's war and everybody dies."

As he lifted his obscenely long knife into her field of vision, her eyes stopped darting and grew wide in stark fear. Breaking contact with her almost pleading eyes, he lifted the knife and brought it down toward Heidi's head. Seconds later, he pulled the knife out of the ground, the blade now clean of Kane's blood.

He looked down at Heidi, showing no surprise, and saw those beautiful almond eyes rolling up into her head, taking her body into sweet oblivion. He glanced up and across the dark river toward downtown Fort Worth. Standing to his feet, he held his knife up to the moonlight and sheathed it.

"One more down, Riordan," he said to himself. "And one step closer to you."

Chapter 1

Opening her eyes slowly, Heidi almost instantly felt different. As she sniffed the air, she sensed smells she'd never known before. She smelled the very dust of the air and rich aromatic scents of the flowers and water nearby. She looked around, seeing she was in some kind of room, it puzzled her that she could see no flowers or water anywhere in her confines. She wondered how she could have smelled the scents.

Her ears picked up a tiny scratching sound. Spinning around, she zeroed in on a small beetle, inching its way along a far wall. She looked at it for several moments and gasped. The insect was in a darker corner of the room, yet she could see it as if it were in bright light. She could see in darkness like a cat and she couldn't understand how.

"What's happened to me?" she said to herself, her voice shaky and disbelieving, her mind reeling at sensations that threatened to overwhelm her sanity.

She forced herself to calm down, somewhat, and think back. Yes, now she remembered. She'd been on that blind date. She still couldn't believe she'd actually taken up that creep's offer to meet; after all, they'd only known each other online. But, she'd been desperate for a date and she was the one who told her students that the Internet was a much better place to meet men and vet out the perverts.

Yet, her blind date had tried to get fresh with her. He had let slip his plans to eat dinner only after they had made a brief stop at a hotel. It served him right for the black eyes she'd given him when he'd tried to cop a feel.

Then she remembered how truly stupid she had been – she'd gotten out of his car on the Main Street Bridge. All she had to do was walk on. She would have been right by the main buildings for the Fort Worth Police and the Tarrant County Sheriff's Office. She would have been safe.

But, no, she'd reverted to stubborn Heidi, the one who let her emotions get the better of her – at the absolute worst times. She ignored the Heidi who taught self-defense classes to women at the Y. Somehow believing that her martial arts prowess would be some kind of shield for her, as she headed down to the river in the middle of the night to clear her head.

She gasped as her memories now raced a mile a minute. She shuddered as, in her mind, she felt strong arms reaching out, pulling her into the shadows. She remembered struggling, breaking the grip, punching and kicking the source of those arms, only to be pulled into the shadows again.

It was those eyes, she told herself. So mesmerizing. She'd felt her resistance melt away; she willingly let herself be taken. She felt ashamed at succumbing so easily.

Suddenly, her memories disappeared, replaced by a searing pain in her mouth. It was as if her gums were on fire. It felt as if her teeth were growing and, indeed, her incisors pushed further out of her gums, curving downward. At the same time, an incredible hunger began to fill her belly. Subconsciously, she licked her lips, feeling the incredibly sharp points of her incisors.

Totally confused, she looked around again and spied a sliver of sunlight, coming from two small windows she hadn't noticed before. Making her way over to them, she reached up for the warmth of those sunbeams. Her skin sizzled and she screamed in pain. Pulling her hand back quickly, she saw that her hand was very red. The sunlight had hurt her!

She stumbled back to where she'd been sitting before. Collapsing, she now realized what had happened. The stranger – the one who had made her feel so good – had long sharp incisors.

He'd been drinking her blood!

Now, she had fangs and suddenly craved the same thing. She could hear, smell and see things just like an animal. She looked down at her hand – the one she'd stuck in the sunbeams – gasping upon seeing the flesh almost completely healed. My God, she forced herself to realize, I'm like him now.

She wondered how she could ever go back to her old life. She thought of her friends and had horribly wonderful thoughts of sinking her fangs into their throats. She shook her head, trying to force the horror from her mind. She put her head to her knees and stopped resisting the surge of tears behind her eyes.

Outside of the room, Dolores Montoya fretted and sympathized. Just watching Heidi's horrible transformation, on the monitor of the room's closed-circuit camera systems, was bad enough. What made it worse were her own memories of someone very close to her suffering through the same ordeal.

Once, she had been a happy stay-at-home mother. That, however, was before fangs and blood ripped her daughter, Evangeline, from her. Now, here she was, watching the change come over another innocent. She could only wonder if she would have to kill this woman, as she and her husband had been forced to kill their Evangeline.

It had been ten years since that fateful moment, every day since had been nearly as difficult. In a futile gesture, she shook her head, as if to dislodge those painful memories. It was hard enough to bear the loss of a child, but much worse when that loss came at her own hand.

She heard footsteps, looking over her shoulder as Jesus, her husband, approached. A swarthy man, he still resembled the muscular beefcake she'd fallen for almost thirty years earlier. Though his hair was fast becoming salt-and-pepper, he still had the upper body of a man twenty years younger.

She had to admit that he did look exhausted. The eyes that had won her over – and had disappointed all the women in Juarez – had lost some of their shine. Like her, the war was getting to him. They were both nearing fifty and no longer able to handle all the physical and mental aspects of their battle.

"What's wrong?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Patel's experiment is what's wrong," Jesus snorted. "You-know-who called him, letting him know that he was bringing in another test subject. Patel knows the woman is here and is prepping. Now, we have to commit."

Dolores didn't know whether to fret or breathe a sigh of relief. On the one hand, she hadn't liked what happened to all the other test subjects, who had suffered mightily when Patel's previous serum incarnations had failed. On the other, she really did not want to see Heidi killed, not if there was a chance to save her. In that instant, she made up her mind.

"Jesus, I need to tell you something," she said. "I think we should support Patel on this."

"We should what?" Jesus asked, shocked.

"Look, I know you haven't liked the past experiments," she explained. "But, we're losing the war. Don't give me that look. Have you seen yourself lately? You're exhausted. I'm exhausted."

"That's why we brought in the others," Jesus challenged. "Fresh blood, if you'll pardon the pun."

"But, it's not working," Dolores countered. "We need a new plan – cornering vampires in deserted barns and farm houses doesn't cut it anymore. Not when men, like Louis Riordan, are running mob-style clans. I doubt he's even noticed our little nightly patrols. Jesus, if this war is going to begin going our way, we have got to step it up."

Jesus stepped back and looked long and hard at his wife. She still reminded him of the tomboy, he'd picked over all of the beauty queens in Juarez, Mexico, she was still as stubborn and feisty as ever.

"But, we are organized," he finally said, though he didn't really believe his own words. "We communicate with other hunters – through the Internet, we keep tabs by cell phone. We even cobbled together a SWAT-style group to take the fight to men like Riordan."

"Riordan has Fort Worth in his back pocket," Dolores shot back. "He has cops on his payroll. Politicians, too. His building is so heavily protected, we'd need an army to break through, and that would only happen if he didn't call for help from his police cronies.

"The only saving grace for us is that Riordan is a megalomaniac. He doesn't share power. But, God help us, if he suddenly has an about-face and decides to do just that. There are many rogue clans running around Texas and the Southwest, who would love to be part of Riordan's empire."

Dolores waited for her husband to say something. He didn't. He only looked defeated and she wasn't sure that she liked it. She'd never been able to convince him of anything this easily.

"Okay, Jesus, let's just think on it," she blurted out, hoping to snap him out of his doldrums. "Let's see what we can do for Miss Nguyen and move on from there. Then, we can...oh, por el amor de Dios."

Looking down the hallway, she saw a tall, lanky black man in battle-dress uniform approaching. She took a deep breath as Jesus turned, noticing Cantrell Ryker as well. She knew there was one thing lately, guaranteed, to get Jesus out of his uneasiness and that was Ryker, her newest team member

Despite his reputation as a loose cannon, she'd accepted him into her group. It was true that two other team members had vouched for his entry, but she had ultimately kept Jesus from overriding that vote because the group needed a lot more experience. There were days she regretted her decision. She had never worked with anyone who was so disruptive to team spirit before. If he hadn't turned into one of the best members of her team, she would have cut him loose long ago.

Ryker's past history guaranteed Dolores' distrust, especially where an organization called Moonrise, Inc., was concerned. There wasn't a member of her team, who hadn't known someone in that organization and felt the loss of their friends intimately. It had been extremely tough for them to accept Ryker, the only surviving member of Moonrise. And that didn't even take into account his murky legal status.

"I'll handle this," she heard Jesus say. "Don't worry. I won't kill him. Yet."

Jesus truly loved Dolores. She meant the world to him and didn't know what he would do if he lost her. That made it all the more difficult to work with her against vampires. Yet they had endured a decade, in an underground business that sent many a man and woman to prison, to an asylum, or to the grave. Or worse.

He knew she was right about needing to be more organized. For her sake, he'd listened, putting aside even his trademark stubbornness to assuage her. That said, he had very little patience left over for the man fast approaching him. He really didn't know what it was about Ryker that upset him so. Maybe it was the fact that the man only followed the orders that suited him or his irritating aloofness during tense situations, like he was merely a bystander at a sporting event.

"Oh, Jesus," Ryker said as the pair met halfway down the hallway. "I was just coming to see if Miss Nguyen was ready."

"Have you always been cruel, Ryker, or is this a new thing you picked up in the last few years?" Jesus asked. "You know, while you were hiding from every law enforcement agency under the sun."

"What?"

"Do you get some thrill watching people change into vampires?" Jesus queried. "Jessie told me you took great pleasure in finishing off that vampire tonight. Did it get you off? Are your trips to Korean massage parlors not working anymore?"

"You know where you can go with that sh..." Ryker caught himself just in time. "Why the hell would you take Jessie's word for anything? She couldn't even finish the guy off. That's a freakin' liability in my book."

"Well, it's a good thing we're not playing by your book. You're supposed to be playing by ours," Jesus snapped.

"Look, the girl – Miss Nguyen – she was well into the turn, okay?" Ryker explained. "Doc said we had no choice but to let the change take place."

"And you would know, since you called Patel first, not myself or Dolores, like anyone else in this outfit would," Jesus snorted. "Maybe we could have made the determination about Miss Nguyen's suitability. Maybe we could have even put her out of her misery, ended her suffering. But now, we'll never know, will we?"

"I'm not a sadist, Jesus," Ryker replied, fuming. "I just don't think we can win the war like we've been fighting it. We need something better. Anything. Like the serum. Or don't you want it to work?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, muchacho?"

"Don't tell me you like rousting vampires out of hay lofts or raiding graveyards?" Ryker asked. "If that's the case, why don't we all just pack up and get the hell out of here? Go back to Nowhere, Texas and tell distraught parents how their former beauty queen daughter ended up just like Evang..."

"Don't go there, amigo!" Jesus roared, causing the usually distant Ryker to take a step back. "I have had just about enough of your shit!"

Jesus could feel his blood pressure rise. Catching himself, he took a deep breath and turned away from Ryker. Seeing the horrified look on Dolores' face, he made himself calm down.

"Just listen to me, Cantrell," Jesus warned, turning back around. "They may have put up with your 'loose cannon' crap at Moonrise – and, for the life of me, I don't see how – but it doesn't fly here. Here, we work together and watch each other's backs. If you don't like it, you can pack your things. Your entry into this group wasn't unanimous, compadre, not by any stretch of the imagination. So don't go biting the hand that feeds you. That's the end of this discussion. Comprendez?"

Jesus waited for Ryker to say something. But, the man said nothing. Just nodded once and walked off. Jesus took a moment to compose himself, then went back to his wife.

"Madre Dios, I don't understand that guy. I swear I don't," Jesus said, heatedly. "I'm beginning to think he's the reason why we're so tired."

"Don't go having a heart attack on me, my husband," Dolores warned, planting a feel-good kiss on his lips. "Maybe try putting some of that anger toward Riordan."

"It's like he wants to run rogue one minute, then be a team player the next," Jesus continued, as if he hadn't heard his wife. "I wish we'd had more time to vet him."

"War makes strange bedfellows," Dolores replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Jesus' obstinacy. "I don't like it either but we can't ignore his accomplishments. He has the uncanny knack to know which vampires to pick off and which to squeeze for information. We wouldn't be this close to Riordan if it hadn't been for him. And, if we really are to take that next step in this war, we're going to need him far more than he needs us."

"I don't know if I fully trust him," Jesus admitted.

"Don't forget that there are people out there who might say the same about us," Dolores reminded her husband.

Jesus remembered. Evangeline had inherited a lot of money from Jesus' only brother, who had doted on her as if she were his own child. The money changed Evangeline. Leading her down a path that ended in a dark alleyway, where a promise of the latest designer drug turned out to be fangs. Though Dolores and Jesus had freed their daughter of her curse, not many people bought the carefully crafted explanation of Evangeline's demise.

Making matters worse, was the fact that that money had gone into helping Jesus and Dolores set up their loose-knit organization. That money was sorely needed by people accustomed to living hand-to-mouth, in pursuit of Hominus Nocturna. Yet, since 99 percent of the world did not believe in vampires, it was impossible for the Montoyas to reveal how they were using the money. Charity had carried on as an excuse for where the money was going for a while. But even that chestnut was getting stale, especially in light of the recent purchases of abandoned property in Fort Worth, for the group's newest base of operations.

The use of said money, invited at least a dozen inquiries from the Texas attorney general. Though none bore fruit, at least a few people in the AG's office thought the Montoyas murdered their daughter for financial gain and were determined to bring them down. In fact, a new election for attorney general was coming up, and both incumbent and challenger had vowed to get to the truth behind Dolores' and Jesus' dealings.

"So, it's the devil in the dark, I guess," Jesus commented, with a weak smile.

"Let's not bring him into this," Dolores joked. "Let's just worry about our guest, okay?"

Jesus had always loved his wife's common sense and her ability to keep him grounded. It had been a sorely needed quality these past ten years, putting their group together. There had been many trials and tribulations that threatened to tear the group apart. Yet, Dolores had been the rock upon which they'd all built their foundations. She had remained solid and he loved her all the more for it.

"It looks like the change is complete," Jesus noted, sadly, viewing the television monitor again. "I still have serious qualms, but, at this point, we can only hope the good doctor succeeds this time. Come on. We've got a debriefing to run."

Jesus walked down the hall, but Dolores lingered a moment. She stared at the screen and watched the woman sobbing. Reminding her of when her daughter had first turned – the horror she'd felt when Evangeline had turned up at the family farm. It also reminded her of her daughter's first kill and she didn't want that fate put upon this young woman. She turned and quickly walked after her husband.

Detective Aurelia Hernandez hated missing person cases with a passion. She'd see the desperate families clinging to any shred of hope as days passed and the chances of finding the missing declined dramatically. It was like watching a heroin addict slowly poison himself.

Hernandez glanced around the office at her fellow detectives on the Fort Worth police department payroll, wondering what they were thinking. They had a lot on their plate these days. Murders had hit an all-time high in the Fort Worth/Dallas Metroplex and the mayors were crying for something drastic to be done.

She didn't want to say that their efforts were wasted. She knew the murder cycles came and went like clockwork. Still, she felt pressure from the police chief to reassure the general population. So, reluctantly, she picked up her cell phone and punched in a few numbers.

"This is Aurelia," she said in a low voice. "We need to talk. Same place. An hour before sunset."

She ended the connection and shoved the phone back into her jacket pocket. She glanced around quickly to see if anyone had been looking. She then went back to the paperwork on her desk.

Her current case was another tough one. A woman named Heidi Nguyen was reported missing. If the local homeless population could be believed, a woman fitting Heidi's description was last seen walking down the Main Street Bridge.

Street cops found blood under the bridge the next morning, but not a trace of a body. The driver of the car, she had been seen getting out of, had come forward almost immediately. He had, so far, been exonerated as he had received a ticket for reckless driving several blocks north, shortly after dropping Heidi off on the bridge. Aurelia sighed and reread the report from the beginning, especially the part about the ash that had been found scattered across the grass nearby.

"Idiots," she mumbled under her breath.

Ravi Patel waited impatiently for the blood sample to finish spinning around in the centrifuge. He was a man who always hated to wait. The awkward frustrating days of his youth, as in intern in the overcrowded hospitals of Mumbai, India, still replayed in his mind to this day. He loathed waiting days for test results that doctors in America could get within a few hours. He couldn't say that his current surroundings were any better than his old ones, but, at least, he had his own laboratory and only waited on himself.

The centrifuge stopped and he opened the door. Removing the test tube, he carefully held it up to the light, the blood was still crimson. He smiled. He walked over to his regular workbench, gently placing the blood sample into a rack packed with other tubes. He scribbled some notes on a pad of paper and went over to his newly-acquired portable DNA microscope.

"Hey, Doc."

Patel looked up to see Ryker entering the lab.

"Jesus gave the okay or, at least, he didn't say no after ripping me a new one," Ryker reported.

"What is it with you, Cantrell?" Patel asked. "You seem to get ripped at least once a day."

"Must be my wonderful personality," Ryker replied, smirking. "Are you close?"

Patel smiled a little. He always liked Ryker, perhaps because both men had one thing in common – a desire to fight vampires that was not borne of personal tragedy. Neither of them had lost loved ones to the bloodsuckers or had come close to death at the hands of vampires. Patel became a vampire hunter because he had seen far too many of their victims end up in his hospital.

Generally, most vampire victims recovered with few ill effects because of an enzyme in the saliva that healed wounds within an hour. But, that was only in good conditions. It was a far different story in places like Mumbai, where victims were often left lying in filth after an attack, their wounds becoming horribly infected. Even worse were the superstitions of the people, whose panic at seeing the bite marks on throats forced the government to kill scores of victims who might otherwise have been saved if left alone with an IV and time to rest.

The actions of his youth led Patel to seek more humane remedies for the vampire scourge, for he knew that vampirism was like drug addiction. Most of the body's immune system spent its energy directly against the infections caused by the attack, with little left over for the enzyme in the vampire's saliva. That enzyme would often lie dormant, until the victim's body was too weak to resist. Then, it would spring to life and begin the horrible process of conversion.

It was this process that Patel wanted to attack. He'd worked hard for more than two decades on his ideas and was sure his serum would work; even if the others considered it a waste of time. To him, anything was better than what he had seen back in India.

"I think I might actually have it this time, Mr. Ryker," Patel said, happily. "The tests look extremely positive. Tell me, has the young woman changed yet?"

"Oh, yeah, she's ripe and ready, Doc," Ryker replied, with his sometimes morbid sense of humor. "In fact, maybe too ripe, which is Jesus' latest reason for ripping me."

"I'm not worried about Jesus," Patel said, climbing off his stool and walking over to where Ryker stood. "It's Dolores I have to please. Jesus would just take everyone who's ever been bitten and kill them. We can't win a battle like that. Trust me. I've seen it many times. No, I believe my way can work a lot better for us."

"Hey, you don't have to convince me, Doc," Ryker said, good-naturedly. "We just need to know it works, so we can go after the big shots, maybe even Lin Tang. If it works on her, then you'll be up for the Nobel Prize in Science."

"Yeah, yeah, you jest, but this is serious business," Patel remarked, tartly, as he returned to his microscope. "Tell Jesus, I will be ready to test her within two hours."

"Good luck, Doc," Ryker said, leaving the lab. "For all of us."

Chapter 2

Louis Riordan was not happy.

Standing by one of the specially-tinted, full-frame windows of his high-rise office, he ignored the dying rays of the sun to look out over the cityscape of Fort Worth. It looked so peaceful to him; though he knew down on its streets, thousands of men and women were just beginning the hectic race to make it home from work. He also knew his people would be down there, to begin a new day while most others were ending theirs.

Riordan was more than 400 years old and never felt as unsure of himself as now. Other than looking at the silver creeping into the temples of his jet black hair or trying to count the scant few age lines around his eyes and mouth, one could not tell his age. Such mental discipline had helped him weather countless crises from his days as a thief in the mean streets of 17th century Paris, to a new life in Montreal, to the violent days of two worlds wars and, now, the 21st century.

He'd built a vast clan in Canada only to see it fall from within because of jealousy. He'd taken those lessons, built up over centuries, and created his new clan in Texas. Here, he ruled the streets with a hand that was only iron-fisted when it needed to be. And, it helped him become one of the largest vampire clans in North America.

He had a net worth north of $3.2 billion, owned twenty percent of the office buildings in Tarrant County and had no fewer than five homes across the state. He had personal relationships with most of the area's politicians and celebrities, though only a few knew his true nature (in reality, most of them only cared about was how much green he had).

But, for all that he owned and all the power he possessed, Louis Jean-Marie Riordan was about to give it all up.

Why?

Because he had to.

Sighing heavily, he glanced at his watch and then walked over to the large oaken desk that dominated his spacious penthouse office.

"Allison, have you heard anything yet?" he asked into his voice-comm.

"The first guests have just landed at DFW, sir," the lovely voice of his secretary Allison came back.

"Please let me know when they're en route."

He plopped himself into his leather, high-backed chair and slouched as he picked up a portfolio, containing information about the previous night's actions. He did not care if he wrinkled his suit. He would change into a fresh one – for he was always impeccably dressed for business – before his guests arrived. He went back to looking at the information, if only to get his mind off his looming problem. Right away, he noticed one disturbing item in particular – the name of that problem had been Kane.

"Allison, please send Travis up here immediately," he ordered.

He did not need this kind of distraction. It was best to nip it in the bud before any of his guests got wind of it.

The nightly meeting had just finished and, remaining on the dais, Jesus watched his people mill about the room. He glanced at his watch and saw it was only 30 minutes before Patel's latest experiment took place. He sighed and thought about what his wife said, about stepping up their operations to a new level.

It was true, he often thought about it; it was just that circumstances kept them out in rural areas, rousting vampires out of barns and dilapidated cemeteries. It certainly wasn't a voluntary decision as Ryker had implied.

The membership of his hunters had always been liquid. He hadn't pressed for commitments because hunters, by nature, tended to be loners who didn't stay in one place for too long, lest they become the hunted themselves. The loose-knit feel of the group had worked for years, but, in light of recent developments, seemed to be wholly inadequate.

For one thing, a bunch of loners staying in touch by Internet or cell phone, getting together once in a while, like relatives at Christmas, could not hope to accomplish big things. Any military historian could show that D-Day was not a spur-of-the-moment event. No, the Allies had to claw their way across North Africa, through Sicily, past Monte Cassino and into Rome. All to gain experience before tackling the monumental task of invading Adolf Hitler's Fortress Europe.

Likewise, Jesus imagined it would be the same for his young team. They needed to be blooded as a cohesive unit and slowly work their way up to bigger targets. In turn, that would mean particularly harsh responses from their enemies (upon which his people would have to learn to accept the possibility of death). Hopefully, they could remain together long enough to, at least, put some fear into Louis Riordan and his ilk. Otherwise, it would all be a senseless waste.

"Fifteen minutes, Jesus," said Patrick Wesley, a tall, broad-shouldered, mountain of a man, bringing Jesus out of his trance-like state of deep thought.

Jesus thanked his training officer. He'd nicknamed Wesley "Elvis" because his surname rhymed with the King. He'd recruited Wesley away from a dead-end job running security for a supermarket giant in San Antonio. The man was once a Marine, until a drunk driver clipped him during an early morning jog.

He looked around the room, taking note of the others. Talking to Wesley was Angelica Morales; a brunette whose beauty was only outdone by her muscular yet sensuous physique and was one of two people, in the group, who did not object to Ryker's presence. She'd sponsored Ryker, feeling Jesus needed the experience and because she'd wanted Ryker to come in from the cold, so to speak.

Sitting at the back of the room, was a short man who looked as if he hadn't shaved in a month of Sundays. He had a full beard that was already showing a little gray, although Jesus knew it was more from stress than age. Michael Lee was only thirty. As the group's computer expert, he often let time get away from him and needed to be reminded of such simple things as eating and trimming his beard. But, he was excellent at what he did and Jesus tolerated his sometimes-unkempt appearance.

As usual, Marcus Van Niekerk was studying. Tall and muscular, he cut a mean figure, which was needed for his profession. He was a mercenary and not afraid to let anyone know it. His reputation counted a lot with Dolores Montoya and played a crucial part in Van Niekerk sponsoring Ryker's membership. The pair had worked together a few times, though not hunting vampires. They'd gone after a werewolf, a devil cult, an Aztec mummy and a good old-fashioned zombie – a voodoo zombie, not a Hollywood one.

Van Niekerk had taken extensive notes of the debriefing following the previous night's river patrols. Jesus liked that the mercenary was thorough. If this group was to take a big step forward, it needed someone like Van Niekerk to properly train it.

And, last but not least, was Kelly White Cloud, who was, perhaps, the group's most hardcore member. She'd once been a "half-dead" until Ryker rescued her from the clutches of Lin Tang and persuaded Dolores to help convert her back to be fully human. "Half-deads" were humans who had been bitten by Lin Tang, but just enough to remain addicted to the bite. Weaning Kelly off Lin's influence had been tortuous at best, involving a vicious form of delirium tremens that would have made the most experienced drug rehab technician quit. Yet, Kelly had pulled through, driven by an intense desire to get back at the woman who had kidnapped her off the streets and made her into a virtual slave.

The only people missing were Jessie Kellums and Horace Garvey, who were on duty in the monitoring room, watching the security cameras that covered the surface of the compound. And Jesus knew Ryker and Patel were in the lab.

The door to the meeting room opened and leaning in, Dolores simply nodded and Jesus sighed. It was time.

"Okay, people, let's do this."

While Jesus awaited Patel's experiment, Aurelia Hernandez waited patiently at table outside her favorite bistro in downtown Fort Worth. It was not that busy, despite only being a few blocks from Sundance Square, Fort Worth's main entertainment district. She sipped an espresso and nibbled on some nacho dips, electing not to have the queso dip.

Within a few minutes, a portly man, with very white skin and neatly cropped sandy brown hair, took a seat at her table. Her ordered a Bloody Mary from the waitress and grabbed some chips. He said nothing, until after the waitress delivered his drink.

"Thanks for making it sundown," Tanner Coleman said. "You know how I hate getting sunburned."

"You and a thousand other people," Hernandez commented, snidely.

"Hey, I'm a familiar," Coleman objected. "I can still enjoy the sunlight, just like you. I just get sunburned easily. Now, what can I do you for, Detective?"

"It's all these missing persons," Aurelia started. "The list is huge and I suspect it's growing far too quickly."

"My boss is very careful, Detective Hernandez," Coleman countered, testily. "You know they keep their numbers low to draw little attention to themselves. When they feed, they take just enough to satiate themselves. They leave behind saliva, which heals the wounds to two small marks, which the victim barely notices when they wake up. And being bitten does not turn one, you know. More than twenty-five percent loss of blood begins the process, which can be stopped if the victim receives a transfusion or antibiotics. Only when blood loss approaches fifty percent, does the victim turn almost immediately."

"So, your boss is not responsible for this horrible murder rate then?" Hernandez queried, clearly not convinced. "Gunshots, strangulations, and stabbings, I can understand, but do you know how many bleeders we've had in the last month?"

"Most likely copycat," Coleman offered. "Riordan bucks no rogues."

"Then maybe some of Tang's people are practicing," Hernandez suggested.

"Half-deads can't turn anyone, not even themselves," Coleman whispered, fiercely. "Are we done here? I have to get ready for tonight."

"Put the word out, please," Hernandez said, sternly. "If your boss and his people are behind these missing person cases, it needs to stop or we'll be forced to call in help."

Coleman stopped eating his nachos, staring hard at the detective. She met and held his glare, until he looked away. He felt like a worm on a hook, caught between two equally hard masters, either of whom would gladly throw him under the nearest bus. He was just a "familiar," a human who willingly worked for a vampire, and had to continue to survive the only way he knew how – by walking a tightrope.

"Okay, okay," he relented. "We did have a rogue two nights ago. We put the word out to his master, to curb his roaming. His name was Kane. He's actually an outsider, visiting with some other vampires doing business in Fort Worth."

"What was his usual haunt while he was here?" Hernandez asked, suddenly willing to listen.

"Under the Main Street Bridge," Coleman answered, glancing around to see if anyone was close enough to hear. "From what I hear, a lot of these rogues love it by the river."

"I have a missing person reported by the Main Street Bridge," Hernandez said. "Name of Heidi Nguyen. My street guys found her driver's license and a lot of blood, but no body. Any chance she made an appearance in the ranks of the undead?"

"Not yet," Coleman replied, calmly. "But, my people did feel a loss last night. Someone killed one of ours. Most likely, it was Kane who got ashed, but don't quote me on that. They think it was one of yours that did it. Travis heard it straight from Mr. Riordan; and when I told him I was meeting you, he passed it onto me, – to say our boss is none too pleased would be more than the understatement of the year."

"No way," Hernandez denied, vehemently. "Those who know wouldn't throw away our deal. However, I do have something interesting for your boss – someone has been very active in trying to pin down a schedule for a certain group of half-deads. I don't know the identity of the person asking, but a name has been on the grapevine. Seems a lot of people, on both sides, know of this mystery person."

"Well, it wouldn't be a mystery if you'd give me the name," Coleman blurted.

"Does the name 'Cantrell Ryker' ring a bell?"

Coleman almost spit out his swig of Bloody Mary, he couldn't have gotten any paler. Hastily wiping his chin, he tried to regain his composure.

"Wow. I haven't heard that name in almost three years," Coleman said, as he tossed his napkin down. "Why the sudden interest in Ryker? It didn't come from my boss' people – we would have heard it long ago. Believe me."

Aurelia took note of Coleman's last words. Had she struck a chord of discontent?

"So, he's not a vampire?" she said. "Interesting that he should elicit such a reaction. I would certainly hope that he is not in town."

"No chance of that," Coleman replied. "He was killed three years ago. He's as dead as a doornail."

"Then, why are you sweating so much?" Aurelia queried, with a sly smile. "It's been my experience, especially during my time with narcotics, death is not all that it's cracked up to be. The DEA and CIA fought the drug wars in Colombia by killing agents and then letting those supposedly dead agents operate with anonymity."

"Do you have a reason to believe that Ryker might not be dead, Detective?" Coleman asked, looking somewhat suspicious. "Something tangible, besides a feeling?"

"I'm having it checked as we speak," Hernandez said. "I still have a few relatives in the DEA, and with some private contractors, they can make discreet inquiries. They can work the government angle; see if he's listed anywhere clandestine. If he were miraculously alive, he might be someone we could sway to our side. It's been very lonely in my bed lately."

"If I were you, detective, I'd table that fantasy right now," Coleman warned. "If Ryker is alive, he's no one to fool with. He was one of the Core..."

"The what?"

"N-n-nothing," Coleman stammered. "Let's just say that he had a huge target on his back."

Coleman glanced at his watch and suddenly pushed back from the table.

"I've got to go. This should cover the snacks and tip. If you hear anything on Ryker, no matter how remote, it would be in your best interest to let us know immediately. We certainly don't need that maniac messing up things now."

Coleman spread some bills on the table, got up and left. Hernandez breathed a sigh of relief. She'd been afraid the meeting would yield very little. She took her phone out and dialed a number.

"This is Aurelia," she said, smoothly. "I need everything you can dig up on Cantrell Ryker. C-A-N-T-R-E-L-L. R-Y-K-E-R. I need it as soon as possible. Basic information. Past, aliases, known connections and associates, dead and alive. I need it yesterday. Yes, it's extremely important. Thanks. And see what kind of connection he had with the Corps. Well, the Marine Corps, I'm guessing, or Corps of Engineers. Hell, check the Naval Sea Cadet Corps."

Good Lord, she thought after she cut the connection. What the hell have you gotten yourself into now?

Truth be told, she had to laugh at the situation. Here were two humans working for vampires – albeit for different reasons, but working for vampires nonetheless. Yet, they sought to call Cantrell Ryker a "maniac."

She made a mental note of things to check out ASAP when she got to work the next day. She had to know all she could about Ryker and that meant pulling favors she'd hoped to keep a little while longer. More than likely, she realized, this Ryker person was dead, but having had such a big target on his back meant he had been very effective. That usually meant he had help or allies of some kind – people who would provide sanctuary, medical assistance or weapons. Those people might just take it upon themselves to continue his work.

She also sensed Coleman seemed extremely nervous. What was going on now, that was so important, that Riordan didn't need an unexpected distraction like Ryker to interfere? And what was he trying to say when he mentioned Ryker had been part of a corps? Why had he suddenly been so tight-lipped? Just who in the hell was Cantrell Ryker and why would vampires be so afraid of a human?

She frowned at not knowing and went back to sipping her now cold espresso.

Horace Garvey and Jessie Kellums stared at the bank of television monitors relaying feeds from hidden cameras all over the compound. Garvey, a tall, lanky man with a penchant for plaid shirts and generic baseball caps, seemed to be making a game of it, trying to catch sight of rabbits and other animals darting in and out of bushes, like he was back on his family's ranch in Midland. Jessie, a real spitfire with an attitude to match the size of the guns she loved, had given up trying to find out why Horace wasn't as bored with guard duty as she was.

The compound, the group occupied, was vast, but did not stand out in the least. For one thing, most of the working, sleeping and eating areas were underground, in refurbished basements and in tunnels rebuilt from the era of Prohibition.

"Come on, Jessie," Horace implored. "Loosen up. Don't tell me you really wanna' be there?"

"I just need some action, that's all," Jessie replied.

Horace had been a Marine, like Wesley, but had been wounded four times in Iraq and Afghanistan. He'd been medically discharged after his last Purple Heart, still able to wield a weapon effectively but no longer having the stamina or endurance needed to be a Marine. Needing a job, he found himself personally contacted by Jesus Montoya, who had somehow heard of his encounter with vampires in Fallujah, Iraq.

Despite being a jarhead, he never craved action like Jessie. He knew she was the only girl in a family with twelve children. She'd gone whole hog in getting herself into shape in order to do everything her brothers could do – run, climb, shoot, fight. Jessie never seemed to want to let a grudge go; if she knew or thought she was right, she'd keep at her opponent until she was publicly acknowledged as being correct. Now, she used those skills to fight an evil that had reduced her eleven siblings to eight.

"I wouldn't advise it," Horace retorted. "You staked that guy last night, but, you also said you almost puked when Ryker took his head off. Why would you want to see another experiment go bad with our resident mad scientist?"

"Sorry. It's what happens when you try to keep up with the Kellums," she replied, with a shrug. She got quiet and Horace knew she was thinking of her brothers Clem, Luke and Daniel.

Daniel had flat out disappeared two weeks after taking a job in Lincoln, Nebraska. No one knew what happened until the twins, Clem and Luke, double-dated some girls new to Ames, Iowa and unwittingly joined the ranks of the undead. Only when Jessie learned that those girls were related to the woman who had been Daniel's new boss, did Jessie begin believing all those weird stories she'd heard around town.

She never got her revenge against any of the women who had taken her brothers from her, but she had found a way to channel her anger. Patrick Wesley had tracked down the women and killed them. Jessie had been there, shame-faced, as she'd been unable to back up all her proclaimed bravado. It was then, Wesley took her under his wing and tried to make her into as efficient a vampire killer as himself. She'd learned a lot, but still had a way to go.

"Let's just be glad for small miracles," Horace said. "Think of it like a Cowboys-Eagles game – sometimes you just want to find out the score afterward and not have to sit through the game, in case it all goes wrong."

"Well, let's sit back and wait for the score then," Jessie said, with a heavy sigh.

"Is she ready?" Dolores asked, speaking into a slim microphone.

"Yes, ma'am," Michael Lee replied, sitting in the control station, just inside of the medical lab. It had once been an underground supply area for a food bank.

Inside the lab, Heidi Nguyen lay upon the gurney. She was unconscious, thanks to two shots from one of Van Niekerk's heavily-modified cattle prods, but Jesus had still ordered her strapped down to the metal table. Many vampires had supernatural strength far beyond what one might expect of a normal person.

Dr. Patel entered the sealed-off room in surgical garb and mask.

Dolores and Jesus Montoya watched via closed circuit television. Kelly White Cloud was with them, anxious for the serum to work because she knew how difficult it was to overcome the addiction of the vampire.

Inside the room with Patel was Lee, monitoring the various machines that showed Heidi's life functions, which currently consisted of just a slow heartbeat and some brain waves. A few feet away, holding a submachine gun, stood Cantrell Ryker, just in case Heidi rejected the serum and had to be killed. Dolores knew Ryker saved the woman, but she also had no doubt that he could kill her without too much remorse. That much she learned from her friends at Moonrise.

Jesus murmured a silent prayer. Dolores heard it and smiled quickly to reassure her wary husband. He took a deep breath and leaned down to the microphone.

"Do it, Doctor Patel."

Patel moved over to the gurney. He heard a sharp sound and looked up to see Ryker taking the safety off his gun. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to his patient and raised a hypodermic syringe filled with a red liquid. He wiped an area on Heidi's throat with an alcohol swab, to kill germs, and then injected the full contents of the syringe into her carotid artery.

Almost immediately, she woke up, screaming like a banshee, strained against the heavy leather straps holding her down. The straps could hold down a young bull – yet they stretched to their limit to keep Heidi on the table. Patel jumped back.

"Cantrell!" he called out.

He watched Ryker rush up and push down hard on Heidi's chest to restrain her, he held his submachine gun ready in his other hand. Fortunately, Heidi's struggles diminished rapidly. Only when, she slipped back into darkness and lay still, did Patel let out a huge sigh of relief, as if he'd forgotten how to breathe.

"Still no change in vitals, Doc," Lee reported. "It might take a while."

Patel frowned. All of his previous test subjects had shown no immediate reaction, as well. It had taken hours for the side effects to emerge and he hoped it would be different with Heidi. Then again, he chided himself, these things always took time and it was foolish to think that he could change things just by fervently wishing.

"Give me a status report when she does show a change, Doctor," Dolores said, through the microphone.

Outside the lab, Dolores hugged her husband and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She told him that he had to give it time. Reluctantly agreeing, he let her lead him away to the cafeteria. Kelly White Cloud lingered for a moment, pausing to stare at Heidi and feeling more sympathy pangs. Then, she, too, went to the cafeteria to await word.

Chapter 3

Diane Simmons wondered what her mother would have thought, to see her only daughter dressed like a street walker. She strutted down Main Street in Sundance Square in a tube dress, so short one misstep could have gotten her arrested for public indecency. The stiletto heels, her ample bosom and seductive mocha skin did nothing to make her situation better.

Ignoring all the car horns and wolf whistles directed at her, she kept walking straight ahead. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a tall, casually dressed man running across the street, to catch up with her, as she rounded the corner onto to Belknap. She slowed down to let him overtake her.

"Whoa, wait up," the man said, out of breath. "You know you shouldn't be dressed like that and walking the streets at night."

"I can handle myself," she said, coyly. "Can you handle me?"

"Well, I was thinking of the cops," said the man, suddenly a little nervous. "They might think you were a prostitute or something."

"But not if you were with me, right?" she asked. "And not with all these other people around. Wouldn't be good for business, would it? Nice of you to offer, though, Mister, ahem..."

"Michael," the man answered, feeling a little bolder now. "Michael Anderson."

"I'm Diane," she cooed, seductively. "So, are you going someplace special, Michael Anderson?"

"Wherever you are, I guess," he said, beaming. "Just to make sure you get there safely, of course."

"Of course," she said, with a smile. "Let's go then."

They walked and talked for four blocks, until she stopped at a small building. She pressed some buttons on a keypad and the door opened. Stepping inside the foyer, she held the door open.

"There's a party I'm going to, Michael," she said, seductively. "We'll do wild things at this party, things that are guaranteed to leave you totally drained. But, before I can invite you, I have to see if you're worthy. I can almost feel your blood racing, so let's see what else is pulsing through your body."

She leaned against a wall and bent over at the waist, letting her tube dress ride up over her shapely rear. She spread her legs and looked back at a very excited Michael Anderson. He began to unzip. Stepping into the darkness, he closed the door.

Two minutes later, Diane opened another door and stepped into a larger foyer, her dress pulled back down. Michael Anderson followed, hastily zipping up his pants. He did not look happy. Neither did Diane.

"I thought a virile man like you would have lasted more than a minute," she commented, coldly. "I am very disappointed."

Suddenly, strong hands grabbed Michael from behind, slamming him against a wall face first, Diane clearly heard his nose break. Diane smiled at the muscular man, with the earrings, who held the bleeding Michael Anderson so firmly. Anderson struggled to no avail and could barely get enough air to breathe, much less protest.

"Another one failed the test, Diane?" the muscular man asked, with a smirk. "I think you're just too much woman for any man, Miss Simmons."

"Maybe, maybe not, Duke," she said, coyly. "As for Mr. Anderson, I think he had too much cocaine in his system. You can have him as a gift from me. He's giving you a little sample right now."

"Hear that, pretty boy," Duke Drexler breathed harshly into Anderson's ears. "When you dry out, we'll bleed you out. I like the fear, so I'll control myself and ignore the urge to taste the blood on your face. Let you stew a little more. How's that sound, pretty boy?"

Anderson struggled to look at his assailant. His eyes went wide when he saw the man's long incisors. He wanted to scream but Duke pulled him back and slammed his head against the wall again. Knocking him out cold. It was probably the only merciful thing Duke would do to him this night. Diane smiled, deviously, and slowly strutted upstairs.

Diane's machinations did not go unnoticed. The woman watching her through the closed-circuit television cameras, surreptitiously placed around the building's lobby, did not know whether to smile at Diane's actions or curse her out. She aimed her remote at the viewing screen in her apartment's living room, and pressed a button, turning the screen off.

Serves you right, she said to herself. She's just reflection of you, you know.

Truth be known, Lin Tang could have graced the cover of just about any fashion magazine in the world. She was lithe and well-toned, with a sexuality that would have turned the eye of even the gayest man. She was also a black belt in at least twelve different martial arts, including one the known world was not familiar with. She filled out her black uniform, like a porn star, and she didn't care what people thought.

Perhaps that is the problem – this side of you is merely another form of control – and we must always be in control, mustn't we? No matter how much it hurts.

Lin shook her head to clear her mind, though she knew it would do no good. She didn't know how long it had been since she'd first had the other voice in her head, but it had seemed like a lifetime. She wandered over to the shrine and contemplated, as the huge painting of an elderly Chinese man looked down from its place on the fireplace mantle, looking proud and masterful.

"You taught me so much, Master Chang," she professed, looking almost pleadingly at the portrait. "Why must I continually have to learn so much more?"

Of course, she received no answer, at least not from Chang's portrait. The other voice in her head would tell her that life was a continuous journey of learning. If only, she had paid attention much earlier.

Stop it, Lin. The past is past. Come back to the present. She is here.

"Enter," Lin called out.

Diane Simmons stepped from the foyer, into the living room. She was much meeker now, almost cowering and Lin tasted the submission in her lead half-dead. It was a stark contrast from the one who had led the man named Anderson into Duke's clutches. Part of Lin wanted to reward Diane for knowing her boundaries, but another wished the woman would show more independence, much as her predecessor had done. As usual, though, the darker side of Lin Tang won out.

"Am I late, Mistress Tang?" Diane asked, nervously.

"No, you are just in time," Lin Tang replied, sliding up behind the woman. "You will not be punished."

Tang gently cocked Diane's neck to the side and bared her fangs. Gently nipping Diane's exposed throat, she drank lightly. Diane moaned in ecstasy. Tang let the woman slide slowly to the floor, following her down and covering her body. They lay together for a minute before Tang pulled Diane to her feet.

"Thank you, Mistress," Diane gasped.

"I've been extra special to you, Diane, because I have a special assignment for you," Tang explained.

"Anything for you, Mistress," Diane said, obediently.

"The event will be upon us soon," Tang said. "And there are still a few who have not let Mr. Riordan know of their intentions. We must know if they will give their loyalty to him and not their spineless constituents. I may need you to recruit some more of your former...co-workers to help persuade them. This situation calls for your...special talents."

"Is that all, Mistress?" Diane asked, perplexed.

"That is all you need to know," Tang said, coldly. "For now. You have been a good leader to my half-deads. When the awakening has finished, I am sure you will find new favor with our master. And, you will get what you have so long desired."

"Oh, thank you, Mistress," Diane replied, giddily.

"If you succeed, of course," Lin added.

"Yes, my Mistress. I am your most obedient servant."

After Diane left, Lin contemplated events. She'd had mixed feelings about Diane, but could not find reason to fault her. Diane had kept the half-deads in line and, as of yet, had not been challenged.

Why would she be challenged? She's probably slept with every man and woman in the group.

Lin dismissed the voice. She knew she should be thankful for small favors. She sometimes missed Diane's predecessor, Kelly White Cloud, but not the drama the agile, young Kiowa had brought with her. Of course, she realized, that might have been due to being forcefully turned into a half-dead. But, Kelly had finally given in, though not without drama – in the form of an "accident" that crippled her boyfriend, who had lured her into Lin's clutches.

Alas, Kelly's tough-mindedness had proved too fractious. She made enemies from within, it had only been a matter of time before someone got to her. In this case, a half-dead named Lincoln who, with two other half-deads, set a trap for Kelly. He admitted as much after Lin tortured him, but had gone to his grave without revealing where he'd left Kelly's body or why he had seen fit to torture and kill the other two half-deads.

It took a lot of work for Lin to make a good half-dead. She had to carefully vet the ones she would later bite. She needed to be sure that leaving them lingering, between life and undeath, would not cause them to commit suicide. They had to desire her bite so they would remain loyal and do her bidding.

Her earpiece buzzed and she answered.

"Mistress Tang, Mr. Riordan would like to see you when it's convenient for you," a voice at the other end of the line said.

"Tell him I will be over immediately," she said, curtly. "Bring the limousine around. I'll go in style."

Time for us to be subservient. We're not so much different from Diane, are we?

She went into her bedroom, changing from her silk robe into black, battle, dress uniform. She slipped into black combat boots and strapped on her specially-designed back harness. She walked into the living room and over to the fireplace. From the mantle, just below Chang's portrait, she removed two samurai swords from holders and gazed at the light gleaming off of each one.

She received them as a special gift from Lo Chang, the man who had made her the lethal assassin she was today. With the thought of Lo Chang, she grew a little sad, thinking of his demise, especially of the cruel, torturous way it had been done – staked to the ground in the blazing hot sun, both knee caps shot away. Chang deserved far better from his enemies. What made her sadder – and angrier – was the knowledge that those responsible for his death already paid the ultimate price at someone else's hands, denying her the revenge she'd craved.

Silently, she took each blade, sliding them into the leather scabbards hand-stitched to the sheath on her back. Sure she was properly attired, she left for her meeting with her boss. It would not do to be late for Louis Riordan and she never disappointed her master.

Heidi fluttered her eyelids open and closed them quickly. She very slowly opened them again getting used to the light streaming in. Suddenly, she jumped up and began to scramble backwards, desperate to get out of the sunlight. She couldn't, however, the whole room was bathed in sunlight.

She cringed into a tight ball and waited for the burning and the pain. Nothing happened. Confused, she slowly uncurled and sat up. She looked at her hands and then felt her body. There was no burning sensation. Quickly, she ran her tongue over her teeth and felt no sharp tips or long fangs. She heard her stomach grumble but she had visions of steak, well-done, and it didn't sicken her.

"Confusing, isn't it?" a deep male voice asked.

She looked up to see Cantrell Ryker, stepping into the room through a door she hadn't heard open and hadn't even known was there as it blended perfectly with the dull gray of the walls. Suddenly, she remembered him holding that long knife up to her face, right before she passed out on the walkway under the bridge. She cowered, meekly.

"It's not sunlight," Ryker explained. "Ultraviolet lamps in the ceiling. Works like the sun – sun tan, melanoma, disintegration for vampires."

"B-but why?" she asked, weakly. "B-because of what happened to me? W-what that man...Kane was his name, wasn't it? What he...made me?"

Heidi tried to create more saliva to wet her throat but couldn't. She wondered if the overhead lamps had anything to do with it. She desperately wanted answers and, for that, she desperately needed to talk.

"Don't worry about that now," Ryker replied. "You're cured. And he definitely won't be bothering you again."

He held a tray of food and a small drink. The smell of steak wafted into her nose and she smiled, weakly, though she was still confused and more than a bit frightened. He set the tray down before her on the floor.

"Wait," Heidi said, after gulping down half the water in the cup. "Don't leave."

Ryker stopped at the door, turning to face her.

"You said I was cured? Then, why these ultraviolet lights?"

"Just making sure," Ryker replied.

"But, what if I wasn't...cured? Heidi asked.

"Eat your food," Ryker said, blankly. "You'll need your strength."

He turned and walked out without saying another word.

No one in his right mind messed with Travis Pratt. Standing six-foot-four and weighing two-hundred and ninety pounds, virtually all of it chiseled muscle; he could intimidate most men with just a quick stare. He was a master of the mixed martial arts disciplines of Muay Thai and Krav Maga, the martial art of choice for the much-feared and respected Israeli Mossad, which only reinforced his reputation.

He was in charge of security at the Nyman Building, one of the tallest towers in Fort Worth. It cut an imposing figure into the skyline of the city historically known as "Cowtown." Inside, the city's biggest wheelers and dealers made connections and contracts that controlled the future of most of Tarrant County's two million-plus residents.

It was into this cauldron Lin Tang stepped. Climbing out of the passenger's side of her limousine, she approached Pratt, who bowed in deference, and opened the front door for her. She smiled at him and sashayed inside the foyer. Another man tried to follow, claiming business, Pratt stopped him cold with a hand to the chest that knocked him to the ground.

"Sorry, amigo," Pratt snarled. "As I recall, you still have a month before your exile ends. Come around here again before then and you won't have to worry about it. Got it?"

Lin smiled when she saw the man scramble to his feet and run down the street as fast as he could. She looked at Pratt and nodded once. It was good to have power, she thought as she continued inside.

Inside the foyer, Lin Tang strolled past the front desk, winking at the cute blonde receptionist, making the woman blush with the memories of their sensuous times together. She stepped into a waiting elevator. The receptionist made a quick phone call.

"She's on her way, sir," the woman reported.

The elevator stopped at the top floor and Tang stepped out. Two large men, in three-piece suits, moved aside for her. Both knew how quickly she could kill them if they so much as looked at her the wrong way. One of the men opened an oaken door.

"Ah, ma cherie, how nice of you to come so quickly."

Lin Tang smiled broadly as a tall, imposing man, with jet black hair and a regal air rose from behind his solid oak desk and came around to meet her, his arms wide open. He'd lost most of his French accent over the years, but still let a few colloquialisms slip through, especially when Lin was near.

Though she barely came up to his chest and, despite her intense manner, she let Louis Riordan take her by the shoulders and plant a kiss on each cheek. She looked at him, taking in the fine lines on his face that did not tell of his unnaturally long life. She focused on his intense, blue eyes and his shocking, black hair that only now seemed to be losing the battle against graying.

"My pleasure, sir," she said, bowing in deference to her superior. "How may I assist you tonight?"

Riordan turned and went back to his desk. Sitting down, he nodded his head to the right. She turned and saw Porter Coleman step out of a side room. He looked rather nervous, which was appropriate, for he knew of Lin's sinister and well-deserved reputation.

"I must apologize for the abruptness of this meeting," Riordan said, in a voice that did not sound happy. "But, it was necessary. You have been careless, Cherie."

"I don't know what you mean, sir," Lin Tang countered, defensively. "I keep a tight rein on my people."

"On the contrary, your half-deads are obedient, but they are cocky," Riordan retorted. "For instance, my people tell me that Diane Simmons led a man named Michael Anderson into your residence tonight. Tomorrow, he will be an unnecessary statistic. Since he is the only son of one of this state's most powerful attorneys, this will have repercussions, and unwanted attention, that we cannot afford at this time."

Hear that, Lin. You are his chief enforcer and he is still watching you. Maybe he really doesn't trust you as much as you think.

Lin Tang took a deep breath, trying to control herself. She hated being dressed down by anyone, but could not show her displeasure at Riordan.

"Please make sure Mr. Anderson is dropped off at the nearest hospital and make it look like an accident," Riordan ordered, nonchalantly. "Now for why I really called you here – I was going to have you take care of a certain pain in the neck named Kane. However, he was ashed last night."

"Ashed, sir?" Lin asked. "Who would dare?"

"Yes, that is the question," Riordan continued. "Oh, I know you would not, unless I requested it, but something even more disturbing has come up. Aside from you-know-who, our guests have arrived and are getting acquainted with the accommodations I have prepared. The rather plush accommodations, I might add. This...event is far too important for any issues to spoil it.

"That said, I have brought Mr. Coleman here to relay some news – it seems he had a rather fruitful meeting with Detective Hernandez this evening. Most of the conversation I could care less about, but one interesting tidbit did surface. It is all the more interesting because Mr. Coleman confirmed it with Travis' rather extensive network of insiders. A name is in the wind and I can tell you that I am not happy. Mr. Coleman, please tell Lin what Madamoiselle Hernandez told you earlier."

"Y-yes, sir," Coleman stammered. "She was investigating the high number of murders and she came across a name. I-I told her it was nothing, but she said that it was a name being repeated far too often to ignore."

"So, a name was being thrown around," Lin said, getting exasperated. "This concerns me how?"

"The name was Cantrell Ryker."

"What?!" Lin roared.

Immediately reaching back, she gripped one of her sword hilts. The blade out so fast Coleman barely saw it. In a second, she was upon him and pressed the blade to his throat. The blade had been honed so fine a slight cough from Lin Tang could have pushed the edge through Coleman's jugular vein with no resistance.

"Lin, stand down!" Riordan snapped, jumping to his feet. "No need to kill the messenger."

Lin Tang instantly obeyed her master, falling back, she caught her breath and sheathed her sword. Coleman, meanwhile, grabbed at his throat and backed against the wall. Casting a frightened look at Riordan, who shook his head with disdain and took his seat again.

"Sorry, sir," Lin apologized, prophetically. "Cantrell Ryker is supposed to be dead. He was part of Moonrise, Inc. – his team killed my former master, Lo Chang. They tortured him. They shot away his knee caps. They staked him to the ground to bleed to death, slowly and painfully."

"I can understand your desire for revenge, Lin," Riordan said. "Three of my kin, though distant offshoots, died in San Antonio. What I want to know, though, is who is throwing his name around. I understand that Detective Hernandez is checking her contacts, but I need your half-deads on it as well. Is there any light you can shed on this, Mr. Coleman?"

"Well, sir, a check of some of Travis' contacts, outside of the Metroplex, reveals a slew of similarities," Coleman replied, still rubbing his throat.

"Similarities to what?" Lin demanded.

"To Kane's ashing. Piles of ash have been found in Mexia, Waco, Harlingen, Brownsville, San Antonio and Houston. And there were at least six ashings in and around Prairie View A&M University."

"And why am I just hearing about this now, Mr. Coleman?" Riordan asked, looking irritated.

Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, Coleman found his throat suddenly dry.

"I believe they were in your daily reports, sir," he croaked. "But, being outside of Fort Worth, I don't think they were rated seriously. Many of the vampires beyond the Metroplex have decided to remain independent and not come in from the cold, literally."

Riordan contemplated the news. He wondered if his preoccupation with the upcoming event caused him to overlook the ashings, as well as Kane's transgressions. He really didn't need more problems now. Especially not things that might undermine his authority in front of his guests.

"Am I to surmise that, maybe, there are people out there emulating Mr. Ryker's methods?" he asked.

"Or those of Moonrise, sir," Coleman expounded. "They were known to hook up with more independent hunters on occasion. From what I understand, they had quite a set-up. They communicated constantly and worked together against common enemies. It was one of the reasons why Travis restructured the security apparatus. Fortunately for us, I believe Moonrise's system only worked well in rural areas and not in large urban ones."

"That's not to say they might not be trying their model out in Fort Worth, as a test run, don't you think?" Riordan commented.

"You think there are some of Ryker's allies here in Fort Worth, sir?" Lin inquired. "I will admit I never really investigated the man because he died along with the other Moonrise members, but I do know that he had a reputation as a loner, a loose cannon. Who could possibly have been his ally?"

Shouldn't you be asking that question of yourself, Lin?

"There are some, Miss Lin," Coleman answered. "Had Moonrise not wanted him, he would not have been part of their team for long. Off the top of my head, there are two potential allies listed in the Fifty. It is possible, they may be the ones tossing his name around. Perhaps, for leverage, or to make themselves bigger than they really are."

"The Fifty?" Lin remarked, tartly. "Is that still relevant?"

"Please, Lin," Riordan countered. "Most of us, believe the list of the most dangerous enemies to the supernatural world died out with Moonrise. However, we do tolerate its continued existence because the New York-New Jersey clan keeps it up. And, Giancarlo still wields a lot of power. It also can't hurt to keep tabs on any future enemies. In fact, Mr. Coleman, please work with Travis on that."

Lin had walked away from the conversation, over to the nearest window. She looked out across the city. She did not know why she was suddenly so antsy. She knew her half-deads could handle this new mission and her skills would put an end to any fool stupid enough to be Ryker's ally.

Why so worried? Riordan's clan owns virtually all of Tarrant County. What could a few hunters hope to do or don't you have confidence in yourself anymore?

"Lin, if you'd care to join us."

"I am sorry, sir," she said, walking back to Riordan's desk. "Pardon my insolence. But, how can these allies, if any, be of any concern to us? Maybe they got to Kane, but we could leave that to his master, Kuster, to solve."

"No," Riordan snapped. "To do so would let the others know we cannot handle our own business. How then do we convince them we should be the ones to take the lead? Absolutely not. I will not have that – nor will I brook any interference, from anyone –vampire or human. And, I will definitely not have a dead man haunting me from the grave."

Coleman could not help but catch the irony in that last statement, though he wisely kept the thought to himself.

"Yes, sir," Lin finally said. "Whatever I may do to atone for my transgressions."

Now, that's a good little girl.

"Good," Riordan replied, leaning back contently in his leather chair. "Mr. Coleman, that will be all."

"Now, for the reason I do not want to leave the issue of Kane in the hands of his master," Riordan explained, after Coleman had left the office. "He is a guest in my town, yet he defies the rules, such as letting Kane run rogue."

"You want me to remind him you run things here," Lin said, with a thin smile.

"No," Riordan retorted. "I want that message to go to the others."

"With pleasure, sir," Lin said, pulling her lips back in a hideous smile and lasciviously licking her fangs.

Chapter 4

Marcus Van Niekerk thought he had seriously hurt Angelica Morales. While working on a new battle plan he hoped to take to Wesley, a hand grabbed his shoulder. Instinctively, he shoved an elbow at the source, only to see Angelica stagger back against the far wall of his small office.

"Jou bliksem," he said, as he checked her with a tenderness one would not expect of a mercenary. "I'm sorry, Angelica, are you okay?"

She rubbed her chest, looking pained, but nodded she would recover.

"My fault," she said as she got to her feet. "I should have knocked. By the way, what does 'jou bliksem' mean?"

"Well, it's Afrikaans for 'good heavens.'"

"Good nuff, gabacho," Angelica said with a smirk. "That's Chicano for 'good heavens'."

"Touché," Marcus remarked, with a sly grin. "What can I do you for, Love?"

Angelica said nothing at first. She only spoke after fully gathering her thoughts. Part of that discipline had come from the intense world of competitive bodybuilding, only to be heightened by her second career as a professional bodyguard.

Marcus knew something was wrong with his lifelong friend. Though he'd lost touch for a time with the girl he first met at an international school for the children of diplomats in Thailand, he'd made up for lost time when he'd run into her twenty years later. By then, he'd changed dramatically from shy schoolboy to mercenary after the massacre of his grandparents, during the Rhodesian Bush War in 1978.

He'd developed eyes in the back of his head, to be aware of slight changes in the surrounding area. He knew when a fellow soldier was in distress, a situation that might endanger not only the person concerned, but anyone else nearby. Now, those "eyes" saw something with Angelica.

"Come on, out with it," he demanded.

"Okay," Angelica sighed. "I'm worried about us."

"Well," Marcus replied, puffing up his chest. "I knew I'd eventually break through that shell of yours."

Angelica blushed and playfully slapped at him.

"Not us us," she shot back. "I meant the group. I wonder if they really know what's going on."

"You mean – do they really know what they're doing?" Marcus surmised. "We should. On paper, we're a lot more organized than Riordan. On paper, we should be able to call upon allies from all over the southwest. We should be able to run rings around these vampire clans."

"On paper," Angelica finished. "But, in reality?"

"We're all over the place," Marcus answered, grimly. "We're content to nibble around the edges. Pick off a few strays here and there. That would be fine – if we weren't aiming for bigger fish."

Angelica sighed. It was obvious she felt the same way. However, feeling the same way and doing something about it were two different things.

"So, how do we correct this?" she finally asked.

"That's what I'm working on," Marcus said. "You know my mind. When the gears turn, things happen.'

"Like smoke, creaking, and grinding," Angelica quipped.

"Aha, so you do have a sense of humor," Marcus shot back. "Anyway, we've got to do something new. Something with teeth. Sooner or later, our enemies are going to really pay attention to us. Even a pit bull will eventually respond to a Chihuahua nipping at its legs."

"That about nails it," Angelica responded. "Thanks for listening."

"No problem," Marcus said. "Except, that's not the real reason you came in here. You're really wondering, if you did the right thing bringing Cantrell into the group."

Angelica started to defend herself but stopped. Her cheeks warmed as she realized how well she and Marcus knew each other. She wondered if her reservations were as noticeable to the others as they were to her friend.

"That obvious, eh, Papi?" she commented. "I thought I was doing a good thing when I sponsored him. He had a lot of experience and a lot of good ideas."

Pushing his notes aside, Marcus turned to look his friend fully in the face. My God, he thought, even when she's troubled she's the most beautiful woman in the world. How did you ever earn her friendship?

"Remember the bulk of it was my sponsorship," he reminded her. "Although you did second the motion, Jesus specifically said that my many years of mercenary work carried the day. If it turns out to be wrong, it's all on me, love."

Again, Angelica said nothing, just fretted a little.

"But, you want me to push for some kind of resolution about Ryker, right?" Marcus asked. "Fortunately, none of us has burned all of our bridges. Still, it might be a tough sell; to say Cantrell has an abrasive personality would be an understatement."

"Really?" Angelica asked. "Didn't you say he was in the Navy? Did he hate authority or something?"

"Quite the opposite, actually," Marcus answered. "But, the reason is what's plaguing us – Ryker doesn't seem to respect a lack of authority. Confusing orders. Unclear objectives. Lack of common sense and situational awareness. We both know there are some days – hell, let's be honest, there are many days – when it seems like all we do is sit around and talk about what we need to do. It's hard for a man like Ryker, working under those conditions."

"But, you have no problem."

"Ah, yes, but I'm a mercenary," Marcus said, coolly. "I've worked under good bosses and bad bosses – half-assed and wholly moronic. The Navy is a lot more structured, which is good. The ocean floors are littered with the wrecks of ships doomed by indecision, arrogance and incompetence."

Marcus eyed Angelica while she mulled his information. He could only wonder how she stayed committed to the cause, in the midst of such a dysfunctional organization as the Hunters. Maybe it was her desire to make sure no one else suffered the fate of her favorite cousins. After turning into vampires, they converted several other cousins and nieces to the undead. It also might have been borne out of a competitive desire to always finish what she started.

"Okay," he said, after a bit. "I'll do more than just talk to Dolores and Jesus."

"Thanks, Marcus," Angelica said, planting a peck on his cheek. "I owe you."

Marcus rubbed his hands together as if relishing something.

"What was that for?" Angelica asked.

"Just thinking of my reward."

Eyeing her teammate, Angelica smirked.

"No need to wait for that," she said, coyly.

She stepped back into the room. Switching off the light, she closed the door behind her.

Heidi heard the creak of the hinges long before the door to her prison opened. She looked to see an older man and stocky woman step into the doorway. She did not know the woman, but recognized the man as the one who had injected her while she was strapped to the lab table. She shivered and began to push herself back into the nearest corner.

"It's okay, Heidi," Dolores Montoya said, in a comforting voice. "We're here to help you. This is Doctor Patel. He is the one who saved you."

Heidi glanced around, nervously.

"What's wrong, Heidi?" Dolores asked. "Are you ill?"

Heidi shook her head, but kept darting her eyes about the room.

"Where is he?' Heidi finally asked, while pushing herself, unsteadily, to her feet. "The one called Ryker."

"He's not here right now," Patel answered. "But, he is the one who saved you at the bridge. You can thank him later."

"He can go to hell," Heidi spat. "If you saving me, means being anywhere near that bastard, you might as well kill me now."

"Come, my dear," Dolores said. "We have a lot to talk about."

Heidi stepped forward with uncertainty. She really had no choice – she needed answers and these looked to be the people to give them to her.

She let Dolores put her arms around her and guide her out of the room.

On any other bright sunny morning, a sedan with dark tinted windows driving down a farm road would only have attracted the attention of the most bored police officer. What set this dark-colored sedan apart from most vehicles, was its driver. By all rights, he should have been safely ensconced someplace dark and cool, not squeezed behind the wheel.

Duke turned off the farm road, leading to Springtown, onto an even narrower road. Looking over to the scraggily-bearded man, slouching in the passenger seat, he shook his head. His cousin Avery wore dark sunglasses, though it was from too much drug use that the sun hurt his eyes. He looked up into his rearview mirror, examining the two spaced out female junkies. Avery had procured them for their little day trip, both were obviously not original blondes, but Duke didn't care.

"Glad you came out today, Cuz?" Avery asked, his speech slurred. "Doing a public service and supplying the needs of a grateful population at the same time. By the way, why the hell, did you have to stop at the hospital first before picking me up?"

"Ah, I had to drop off some jerk named Anderson," Duke replied. "Diane gave him to me for fun, but, apparently, the big boss got pissed."

"Well, let's just sell these chemicals and go party with the cash," Avery said. "And these chicks – they'll last longer than any present from a half-dead."

"Maybe you're right, Cuz," Duke admitted. "Crack-tainted blood is the ultimate high. Of course, being human, you wouldn't appreciate that."

"If you're trying to get me to turn – forget it."

"Your choice," Duke said. "Now, where the hell is the turn-off for that trailer park?"

"It's right up here on the left," Avery replied.

"Can we hurry this up?" one of the girls in back moaned. "I need a fix. I'm getting a shooting pain from withdrawal."

Laughing, Avery looked at Duke. "Wait 'til you girls see what I got waiting for ya'. That'll be some shooting pain. Hope you girls like to give head."

Duke would have laughed, had the windshield not exploded. Something sprayed into his eyes, as he swerved off the road. Half-blind, with the two girls screaming bloody murder, Duke fought to get the vehicle back on the road. Finally, after finding pavement, he slammed on the brakes.

Cursing loudly, he wiped his eyes. Something smelled coppery and set off his appetite. He realized what it had to be. Looking down, he saw his hand covered in blood. On the edge of panic, he raked his hand across the side of his face and found more blood. It was then that he also noticed the little bits of bone and some gray matter on his wrist and forearm.

Suppressing the urge to gag, he finally looked over at Avery. Despite his bulk, not to mention his menacing reputation, he nearly puked. The front seat of the passenger side was painted red with blood and the source was obvious.

Avery's head was gone!

"Oh, my God!"

Duke didn't have time to correct the blasphemy from the back seat. Needing to take action, he ignored what remained of Avery and threw his vehicle into reverse. Whoever was shooting, was in front of the car.

"Shut up Bitches!" he yelled and the girls stopped.

The engine blew up with the next shot. After a loud whump, the hood flipped up. As the engine died, the car slid backwards into the culvert between the opposing lanes.

Duke struggled to keep from hyperventilating. He felt an intense heat on his back, looking into the rear view mirror, and saw both girls had bolted the car, leaving the doors open for the deadly sunlight to flood in.

Not that it mattered. Whoever was attacking him wasn't taking pot shots at random. These shots were precise. He hadn't even heard them. And, he had hearing on the level as good as any predator.

He fumbled through his vest pockets until he found his cell phone. Hurriedly, he dialed a number. He was outside of Tarrant County, beyond the jurisdiction of the crooked cops on Riordan's payroll; and he knew the girls would either call the police or would attract the kind of attention from locals, who would notify the sheriff. He needed help badly.

He heard a shot hit the trunk. A second shattered his driver's side window. Screaming in pain as the sunlight burned his elbow, he dropped his phone. Ignoring it, he scooted to a point over the gear shift, trapped between sunlight to his left and light coming in from the hole in the windshield. He was in full panic mode now. He grabbed his cousin's bloody corpse and tried to shove it onto the dashboard to block out the deadly rays.

He cursed himself for his greed. He didn't need to help his cousin deliver ingredients to cook meth or make crack. He had just liked the money. He knew he'd gotten careless, thinking that his status as Lin Tang's security man gave him some kind of immunity.

He found himself shaking and, try as he might, he couldn't stop himself. He was glad no one was around to see his fear. Oh, how often he had inflicted that same fear on his prey, like that Anderson kid. Now, he was on the receiving end and, the worst part was, that he had no idea who was behind the attack. He could think of no one foolish enough to attack anyone connected to Louis Riordan.

Of course, he thought, with a shudder, maybe the attack specifically targeted him or, possibly Avery, because of the drug connection. If so, he was in deep trouble. He looked left and saw a large copse of trees next to the northbound lanes. He seriously began to wonder if it might be better to risk the sunshine and bolt for those trees.

Perhaps if he could run fast enough, he might not get more than a few third degree burns. Then, once he made it back to Fort Worth, he could recuperate with fresh blood. Leaning over, he looked ahead, past the wrecked hood, nearly missing the hump in the grass of the culvert. A drainage pipe.

Yes. And it was not more than fifty feet away. He saw, further down the road, some indistinguishable figures out on the highway. Some were walking quickly toward the car. They must have heard the commotion.

He had to make his move fast. Not only did he not want them to know that he was a vampire, but he also realized he had drug materials in the car. The sheriff's deputies – he could make out the faint sound of sirens – would have to arrest him. He would resist to avoid the sunlight and all hell would break loose.

Another bullet hit the trunk. There was more than one attacker, he thought. He shivered. Who could be trying to kill him? That's when it hit him.

The meth chemicals were in the trunk!

For the first time in his life, Duke Archimedes felt the same kind of extreme terror he'd meted out to many victims.

Sunlight be damned, he put his first foot outside of the car just as a third bullet drove itself into the trunk. He was halfway out of the car when he burned for a different reason. He never saw the fireball that tore through the back seat, until it fully engulfed him. The concussive force of the blast virtually disintegrated him even as it ripped his car apart.

In the copse of trees ahead of the burning car, the forest floor moved. A figure in a military-style ghillie camouflage suit rose to one knee. The gun in its hands was dark, and odd looking, because of a box attached to its right side to catch the brass from spent bullet casings.

"Mission accomplished," Marcus said into his communications mouthpiece. "Scratch one vampire."

One hundred feet away, at a point where the trunk of Duke's car was in view, two ghillie-covered silhouettes moved deeper into the tree line. The taller of the two pulled back an assault rifle fitted with a silencer and a brass catcher. The shorter figure propped itself on its elbows, while holding a spotting scope in one hand.

"And one drug dealer, too," Cantrell Ryker added. "Two birds with one stone. Let's scrub the area."

"I hear sirens," Angelica announced, as she moved a leafed branch over the area where she and Ryker had lain during the attack. "I sure hope this escalation is worth it."

Ryker shrugged.

"Are you okay?" he inquired.

"Oh, um, I had a little bit of a workout before I came out here today," Angelica stammered. "Marcus and I. A lot of pumping...with weights."

"I meant with this operation," Ryker corrected.

"Oh, yes, of course," Angelica answered, looking away. "Yes, I am okay with it. I...I thought you meant...Marcus and I have been good friends – really, really good friends for a long time. But, you didn't ask that. Sorry. We'd better go."

"Why do they keep telling me these things?" Ryker muttered under his breath. "And they wonder why I don't listen to anybody."

He followed Angelica deeper into the shadows.

If Duke found traveling in daylight hours to be worth the risk, Louis Riordan hoped for much more. He was betting the bank, that his decision to hold the first meetings with the visiting clan leaders in daylight, would demonstrate his leadership potential. Sitting in his office, he peered out through the heavily tinted windows, taking a deep breath because he felt a little weak. Of course, he would never let on that the sun bothered him.

"Allison, would you ask Mr. Giancarlo and Ms. Waterston to come in here?" he said into his desk intercom.

A moment later, a pale white man, in a sharp three-piece suit, and a short, stocky black woman, in jeans and a plaid shirt, walked into his office. He bade them sit down and they took chairs in front of his desk. He spun around to face them and studied each one carefully.

"Tesino, mon ami," Riordan said, leaning forward to shake the man's proffered hand. "How is life in the New York-New Jersey area? And Jewel, straight from Seattle."

Giancarlo did not look amused, checking his Italian suit for invisible dirt. He then ran fingers through his jet black hair. His rugged good looks were marred by a nose that had obviously been broken several times. It only made his discomfort more pronounced.

"I presume there was a reason that we have to meet in the daylight," he said, uneasily.

"Yeah, all this sun is bad for my skin," Jewel added, though her manner was much rougher. "I don't need a sun tan."

Riordan smiled, noting Jewel's dark skin.

"I will admit, mes amis, that this is an unusual time to meet," Riordan explained, leaning back in his chair. "But, it is important. You see, we – each of us, the others included – have so much power and yet we are afraid."

"Maybe you're afraid," Jewel huffed. "Living in this glass tower. But, I ain't afraid of anything."

"Aren't you?" Riordan countered. "Then, why do we never meet in the daytime? Because – we fear the daylight. Even the most powerful organized crime families, that we have modeled our organizations after, have fears. To have real power, we must conquer those fears."

"Okay, I am listening," Giancarlo said, seeming to relax a bit. "You have graced us with deluxe accommodations, so we can, at least, show some gratitude by listening to your point of view."

Riordan scowled inwardly at Giancarlo's conceited air, but, on the outside, through decades of practice, he smiled warmly.

"You two are among the most powerful clan leaders on this continent," Riordan continued. "If we are to truly be strong, we need to overcome our fears. We must work together. And, what better way than to give a big F-U to our most dangerous foe?"

At that, Giancarlo finally relaxed and slouched a little in his chair. Next to him, Jewel leaned back and crossed her ankles.

"I think the man might have something," she said. "So, let's get this party started."

Riordan smiled and leaned forward. The die had been cast and it had been favorable to him. The next few days would be very tricky, but he felt in control. If all went well, the awakening would unite the clans, and he would be the top master.

If nothing interfered, he suddenly thought. But, with Lin Tang as his enforcer – and with her hidden power – nothing would.

Riordan could only wonder why, with everything seeming to fall into place for him, he could not shake a nagging doubt in the back of his mind.

"Bloody Marys anyone?" he offered to hide that ill feeling.

Chapter 5

Lin Tang was unusually restless. She'd returned from her meeting with Riordan to find Alex Dupree on duty at the front door. Duke, apparently, had not returned from whatever errands he'd been running. It was nearly two in the afternoon and he hadn't even given a message as to his whereabouts. It wasn't like him.

Maybe Riordan took him from you as punishment.

Ignoring that little voice in her head, she went back to honing the edges on her swords. Sitting on her leather couch, legs crossed Indian style, she ran a honing stone slowly along the edge of one sword. She looked over at the window and sighed, seeing nothing through the almost black tinting keeping out the sunlight.

Don't you just want to rip that tinting away? But, that wouldn't please him, would it?

Frustrated, Lin put the sword aside and got off the couch. She padded across the Persian rug in her boot-clad feet and activated the intercom. It took almost half a minute for Dupree to answer.

"If you are going to stand in for Duke during his little errands, please be as prompt to answer as he is, Mr. Dupree," she snorted.

"Y-yes, Miss Lin," Dupree's stammered.

"Have you heard from Duke?"

"No, ma'am," Dupree answered, meekly. "I can't get an answer on his cell phone either. It keeps going straight to voice mail."

She turned the intercom off and went to her bedroom. Along the way, she shed her top and callously tossed it on her chaise lounge. Within seconds, she'd pulled off her boots and leggings. She climbed onto her bed and slid under her silk sheets.

Reaching over to her nightstand, she grabbed the remote for the flat screen television mounted on the wall. The news was on and she frowned. Nowadays, there seemed to be nothing but news shows on. This particular channel was talking about an explosion near Springtown, something involving drugs or meth or some such nonsense. She could have cared less so she turned the set off.

She hated being away during the day. But, it couldn't be helped. She'd promised Riordan that she would deal with Kuster as soon as the sun set, so that he could have something to tell his guests when they all met. That meant preparing her attack plan and weapons in the daylight hours.

Pleasant dreams.

"Oh, shut up," she muttered before pulling the sheets over her head.

Aurelia Hernandez managed to make it through most of her day off without her cell phone ringing. She was in the middle of a water gun fight with her nieces and nephew, when she heard the familiar ring tone coming from the mantle above the fireplace. Even the children knew to take their play elsewhere when that happened.

Aurelia sighed and set her water gun on top of the marble island in the kitchen. She moved into the living room, deftly avoiding the furniture that had been moved by the kids to make forts. She got to the phone on the last ring, but did not answer it, instead looking at the Caller ID.

"Shit," she moaned.

It was her least favorite detective at the office. She didn't want to listen to his smarmy tone. He was another one on Riordan's payroll, and wouldn't call unless he had something important for her. She pressed the redial.

"What is it, Eddy?" she queried. "Hold on a second."

She put the phone down, grabbed the earpiece next to it and put it on.

"Okay, now my hands are free," she said. "What do I need to write down that you can't send me in a coded e-mail?"

She listened for a second, whereupon her demeanor changed considerably. She moved over to her couch, grabbed the remote and turned her television on. She caught the news just as it repeated the story of the car explosion near Springtown. She turned up the sound, hearing the news anchor talk about the car being shot up and exploding from methamphetamine chemicals stored in the trunk.

"This is outside of our jurisdiction," Aurelia said. "How does this concern me?"

She listened and the blood rushed out of her face.

"Madre Dios," she whispered. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be in first thing tomorrow."

She disconnected and then quickly dialed another number.

"Ian, this is Aurelia," she said, quickly. "Meet me at the usual spot in one hour. No excuses, Amigo. We've got to get a handle on this first before it goes up the chain. Someone has messed with the wrong person, if we don't find out who did and deal with them, some serious blood is going to hit the fan. Namely ours."

Heidi sipped her cocoa as she listened to Dolores explain what had happened to her. Despite the complicated answer, she seemed to take it amazingly well.

"I need to puke."

Dolores looked at Jesus and sighed. This was turning out to be harder than she thought. She wasn't used to helping victims, amazing as it sounded, she had very little experience with them. She and Jesus had been killing vampires for years. Oftentimes, they found the vampires during the day when no victims were around or killed the vampire's prey for being too far into the turn.

"I'm no good at this, Jesus," she admitted.

Jesus was certain he could do no better. Sitting in the compound's break room, he pondered how to deal with the unique situation. Kelly White Cloud was too raw to offer any real insight and Jessie still had more maturing to do. He thought of Angelica, but she had not returned from a supply mission to Burleson with Marcus.

"What happens to me now?" Heidi asked.

"We're still trying to figure that one out," Dolores replied. "No doubt the police found your blood under the bridge."

"And the body of that guy, the one Ryker decapitated, right?" Heidi asked, with a shudder.

"Not quite," Jesus answered. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"More complicated? Jeez, what kind of horror show did you bring me into? And you're surprised I want to kick Ryker in the balls for making me into a guinea pig?"

At last, something we both agree on, Jesus thought.

"What about your parents, Heidi?" Jesus inquired. "From our research, we know both of them are still alive. You must want to contact them."

Heidi sighed and let her head droop.

"We haven't spoken to each other in years," she said, slowly. "I'd be surprised if they even knew I was in Fort Worth. I love them, but they controlled me for years. They even arranged a marriage for me. Can you believe that? In this day and age?

"And now I'm still being controlled. By that...that vampire. By Ryker. By that doctor, what's his name, since you say I still need regular doses of the serum. Are you two going to control me as well?"

Dolores felt an ache in her heart. Heidi reminded her so much of Evangeline that it hurt. She and Jesus had been far too strict with their daughter and she had rebelled, with terrible results. Dolores could not help but think how different things might have been had they let Evangeline make some of her own decisions. Strangely, though, she wondered if she were being given a chance for redemption.

"No, Heidi," she said, pushing back from the table and standing up. "We won't control you. Not anymore. You're free to leave."

Jesus started to object, but Dolores shushed him.

"No, Jesus, she's right," she explained. "We have no right to keep her here against her will. That would be as bad, if not worse than, what Kane intended."

Heidi stared at the Montoyas for a few moments, not sure what to think. Finally, she pushed her cocoa away and got to her feet.

"Thank you, Dolores," she said. "Now, tell me how to kill those mothers."

"Whoa, Heidi, that's a big step," Dolores cautioned. "It's a lot more...I don't want to say 'complicated,' and sound like a broken record, but it is what it is. It's not as simple as you might think."

"Then teach me," Heidi retorted. "Everything. For years, I taught women how to protect themselves from predators. Now, it's time for me to protect myself from a new predator, so I can teach others."

Dolores looked at her husband and nodded. It was the outcome she'd hoped for ever since Ryker had dragged Heidi's body in for Patel's experiment. She gained a new recruit and had avoided an extremely awkward situation.

"Well, we can get you started on training soon enough," Jesus said. "But, please be patient with us. There is still a lot we have to find out about you, before we expose you to our entire operation."

"Thank you, sir," Heidi replied, a thin smile breaking across her lips for the first time in days. "I won't let you down. At least not the way I let myself down at the bridge."

"Well, let's get you started with a few basic facts about vampires then," Dolores said. "Provided it doesn't make you want to puke."

Heidi blushed deeply.

"Meanwhile, I'll see if I can't get Angelica and Kelly to give you some sisterly guidance."

"Thank you, both," Heidi said. "I'm actually glad you're putting me with Angelica. I've followed her career for years. I like how she combines strength with a sense of responsibility, respect and compassion. I'm going to need it, so I don't end up the wrong way."

"Wrong way?" Jesus queried.

"Cold and emotionless," Heidi answered. "Like him. Like Ryker."

Riordan dozed lightly on the bed in his penthouse suite. It had been a long day, made all the more difficult by his impromptu daylight meeting. Despite the heavy tinting on his window, he couldn't keep all the sun's rays out and they had sapped more strength than he dared let on in front of Giancarlo and Jewel.

It was dusk now and he had set up a reception for the rest of his guests. It delayed his all-important meeting to discuss the Awakening, but, at heart, Riordan was a businessman. He had to gain the trust of his potential new business partners and that meant schmoozing.

He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't need to look at a clock to know it was getting dark. He'd been able to sense the sun's setting for centuries.

As he lay, he thought of the night's activities. He would host the reception. At the same time, his enforcer, Lin, would be taking care of that brackish, upstart Kuster and his ilk. Then, she would join him at the reception, along with her personal security man, Duke.

His bedside phone chimed and he cursed mildly. He hated being interrupted in the middle of his thoughts, but sat up anyway. Only a few people knew this phone number, and all of them knew that it had to be vitally important to call it.

"This is Riordan," he said after activating the speakerphone function.

"Sir, we have a problem," Allison's voice said.

"Can it wait?"

When Allison uncharacteristically paused, Riordan straightened up and, out of habit, reached over to pick up the handset.

"What's wrong, Allison?"
He listened closely and slowly hung up the phone.

"Damn it," he muttered.

That nagging feeling from earlier in the day suddenly came back.

Lin Tang was angry now. She'd suited up in her all-black stalking outfit. She had her scabbards on and both swords sheathed. Everything was ready, except she had yet to solve one puzzling mystery.

Where was Duke?

She strode downstairs with a demeanor that told the other residents of her building and, especially, her half-deads to stay out of her way. Only Alex Dupree had no way of avoiding her. She walked up to him on the bottom floor, just as he sent two of his subordinates away. Sweat rolled over his brow even before she reached him.

"Where is Duke?" she demanded. "Speak before I cut your heart out."

Dupree swallowed hard and finally stammered, "Duke's dead, Mistress."

What are you going to do now? Your hand-picked man is dead, Lin. Maybe it was Kuster or maybe it was Riordan?

"Dead?" she blurted. "How? When?"

In her heart, though, what she'd felt earlier in the day was true. A sense of loss. And now, her head told her as well. As Dupree explained, she remembered the news report of the car explosion in Springtown. She vaguely heard Dupree say that police had found Duke's wallet at the scene, along with identification of someone named Avery. Two girls had also been in the car and they had given statements to the police.

Lin ignored Dupree and went back up to her apartment. She had trouble fathoming the news. It was one thing to lose someone like Kelly White Cloud, because she had Diane to replace her. Finding someone as trustworthy and loyal as Duke would be next to impossible.

A million questions swirled through her mind. What was he doing all the way down in Springtown – during daylight hours no less? Was it true that he had drug materials in the car? Most important, however, was the identity of his killers.

Someone had to have a massive set of cajones, to take on anyone connected to herself or Riordan. She imagined that it might be rival drug dealers, if the stories of the drug chemicals were true. She recalled that the other man, Avery. He was Duke's cousin and had a criminal record for narcotics. But, why would Duke be mixed up in drugs, especially, outside of the protection of Tarrant County?

She also had to think of Kuster, but she dismissed it quickly. Kuster was uncultured, but not stupid. Sending Kane to go rogue was one thing, but killing a member of a powerful master vampire's inner circle was like killing a Mafia don's trusted lieutenant. There would be harsh reprisals, no sane vampire would risk.

Her clock chimed and she mumbled a curse. She did not have time to grieve. She had her mission from Riordan and she still had to meet him at the reception – straight-faced. That was what he required of her and she never let him down.

Just like a good little girl.

She ignored the voice, got up and headed back out, this time to mete out punishment. And the way she was feeling now, she hoped Abel Kuster was as macho and chauvinistic as his reputation implied. She needed something to relieve her stress, and kicking the crud out of him sounded like just the right medicine.

After that, she would find Duke's killer and apply the same "cure."

Back at the compound, Dolores and Jesus were taking Heidi on a small tour, when Horace Garvey found them. He was out of breath. Jesus had Dolores take Heidi back to the room they'd set up for her, so that he could talk to Horace alone.

"Who's on duty in the monitor room?" Jesus asked.

"Michael and Jessie," Horace answered.

"Okay, then what's so important?"

Horace pulled out his new cell phone. After touching a few buttons, he brought up the current newscast and held it up. Jesus watched for a moment, nonplussed. His eyes widened in shock. Immediately afterward, his face contorted in abject anger. He stared at Horace and started to ask him something, only to see the answer in his man's eyes.

"Son of a bitch!" he snapped, his face turning crimson. "What the hell did he think he was doing?"

"Should I bring him to the hall for a tribunal review, sir?" Horace asked, his arms crossed.

"Oh, yes, by all means," Jesus finally answered when he got his wits about him again. "And handle it personally. Get Elvis to help you. We can't let this one go, amigo."

Horace didn't like how his boss was talking.

"And Cantrell better have all the right answers," Jesus added. "Because, if he doesn't, I'm going to kill him."

Chapter 6

Abel Kuster spat in disgust. He had arrived in Fort Worth a week earlier and, as of yet, had not been allowed any action. He'd already scoped out several, unwilling females at a local honky-tonk, billed as the world's largest, that he wanted to add to his personal harem, but Riordan had forbade it. He wasn't used to being refused anything. He was regretting the choice to abandon Phoenix for this great awakening Riordan had planned.

Also keeping him in a foul mood was the fact that Kane, his right-hand man, had been killed. He'd sent Kane out on a clandestine to pick off a few choice females for the group, in defiance of Riordan. He knew Kane had turned at least one woman, but the woman hadn't shown up anywhere. And, someone turned Kane to ash.

He growled, flicked his long, tangled and unkempt blond hair out of his face, and kicked an empty paint can across the floor of the long empty warehouse a few blocks from Main Street. The six men – four vampires and two familiars – who had come with him for the meet with Riordan, paid their boss no mind. They'd seen his moods before and knew not to say anything.

"Aw, is my poor baby mad?"

Kuster spun around, trying to find out the source of the female voice. His men jumped up, grabbing the pistols and shotguns they had hidden either on their persons or under the boxes they'd been sitting on. They took defensive positions.

"Who the hell said that?" Kuster demanded. "Don't mess with me, lady!"

He got no answer. Angrily, he motioned for his men to check the doors. Their temporary quarters were small compared to most warehouses, but it was much too large for such a small group to defend. Kuster ordered his men to hurry, knowing they were vulnerable the longer they were separated.

As ordered, his men split into two-man teams and hurried off into the shadows. Reaching inside his duster, Kuster pulled out a Mac-10 machine pistol. He'd cleaned it several times awaiting word from Riordan and, thus, it was primed and ready for action. Kuster preferred to take out his enemies hand-to-hand, but he was smart enough to know gun action gave him the edge.

Most of the time.

"See anything, guys?" he called out. "Is it the bitch that Kane bit? Guys?"

He heard a strange sound behind him and he spun around, gun at the ready. Something flew at him out of the shadows and clattered to the floor. He looked down and swallowed hard. It was a pistol grip shotgun his man Nance carried, and it had been cut clean in half, despite being made of tempered steel.

"Fall back!" he ordered, forcefully. "Defensive positions, now!"

Only four men came out of the shadows, backing towards Kuster and scanning the area for hostiles. Kuster had no time to ask what had happened to Nance and the other man, Linton, probably a moot point considering the state of Nance's gun. Just then, Lin Tang dropped down from the overhead rafters and landed behind his men so silently they never even turned.

"Behind you!" Kuster warned.

Lin immobilized Kuster's men with kicks to the groins and punches to their solar plexuses. She then snapped the necks of two of them. She pulled a long blade out of one of her boots and slit the throats of the two familiars. It went down so fast Kuster didn't have time to shoot. Tang twirled around at inhuman speed, hurling the knife across the floor and burying it in his torso, up to the hilt, the thick bone of his chest cavity proved no barrier.

"Mr. Riordan wanted me to send you a message," Lin said, mockingly, as she walked up to Kuster, who sagged to his knees in intense pain. "Oh, come now, Mr. Kuster. I didn't hit anything vital. Suck it up. No more roaming, okay? We have safehouses that supply all the blood and life force you'll need until the awakening. Next time, I won't be so merciful."

"Y-you bitch," Kuster spat, trying vainly to pull the knife out of his chest. "What d-do I look like? Some l-loyal lap dog like your dearly d-departed Duke?"

Lin burned with anger. She knew Kuster would never get the message but, on her boss' orders, she had to give it anyway. Now, however, the man had crossed a line that made those orders very easy to ignore.

Hear that? This bastard probably knew about Duke before you did. Maybe he's the one responsible. You can't let him get away with something like that, you know.

For one of the very few times, Lin actually agreed with the voice in her head.

Her hand shot forward, gripped the blade and wrenched it free so quick that it made Kuster cry out in agony and fall to his hands. Through eyes, blurred by more pain than he'd ever felt in his life, he looked up just in time to see Tang bring the blade of one of her samurai swords over his head.

"Forget what I said earlier," she remarked.

Deep down, she knew she should have asked him how he knew about Duke. But, she was too angry. Instead, she decapitated him in one stroke.

She smiled at her handiwork, sheathed her blade and turned. The incredible energy of the life force rushing out of the vampires caused the bodies to self-combust, immolating flesh, bone and clothing and turning them to ash within seconds. Lin felt no remorse as she melted back into the shadows.

Despite the recent bad news, Louis Riordan did a good job of hiding his apprehensions. Instead, he was all smiles at the reception for his fellow clan leaders. He looked around the magnificent ballroom he had rented out in downtown Fort Worth for the occasion. The diamond chandelier might have seemed over the top, but he was sparing nothing for his occasion. Everything depended on him overwhelming his guests into following his moves.

He took stock of those who had arrived, escorted by a plethora of vampire lieutenants and sexily-clad male and female familiars. He also noted that his main security man, Travis Pratt, at the main door. Pratt was the only security inside the room, all others being kept outside to avoid any of the guests thinking that something might be amiss.

As Tesino Giancarlo entered the ballroom, Riordan eyed the deliciously tall blue-eyed brunette on his arm. He wondered how long it would take the woman's ample breasts to "accidentally" spill out of her v-neck black ballroom gown. He raised his glass of champagne toward Giancarlo, who gently moved himself and his date over to the host.

"Tesino, my friend," Riordan greeted. "So glad you could make it. And just who is this delicious creature?"

"This is my companion, Eva," Giancarlo replied, looking at the woman as she blushed coyly. "Eva, this is our host, Louis Riordan."

Eva merely nodded, telling Riordan that Giancarlo liked his women totally submissive.

"She is a familiar," Giancarlo expounded. "Though most of the world would rather not think that we exist, a small, but sizeable, portion of humanity welcomes us. The number of night clubs in the New York-New Jersey area alone, that cater to familiar-vampire bondings, would make Texas look miniscule. It is incredible, to say the least. But, I digress. I really brought Eva to show that familiars aren't just the power-hungry sycophants the movies would have us all believe."

"Ah, I would have to agree," Riordan said. "My Allison still turns heads and is completely loyal. Hmm, I see that Edge still prefers to go solo."

A tall gaunt-looking man, with a graying grizzled beard, stepped into the room, clad in a sharp Italian suit. He took a glass of champagne off a passing tray and looked around. Upon seeing Giancarlo and Riordan, he slowly made his way over to them.

"Run along and play with the other familiars," Giancarlo said to his date. "Maybe you can convince some of them to come play with us later."

Eva made her way to the other side of the room just before Edge Ringgold, who represented Canadian vampires, arrived.

"It's always the former porn stars with you, eh, Tesino?" Ringgold commented, dryly.

"Nice to see you, too, Edge," Ginacarlo retorted. "Alone as usual. Don't tell me. You had to dispose of yet another one for being too stubborn? Or is it too submissive? I can never tell with you."

"Now, now, my friends," Riordan interrupted. "We are here to mingle, not argue. There will be time for that during negotiations. This night is for us all to meet each other on a less formal basis."

"Still, there are some things that can't be ignored," Ringgold said, with a snort. "Like the assassination of Duke, which is still all over the news, even if most people have no clue who Duke was. As for Kane, I could care less. Even on his best days, his master, Kuster, is a dick. I'm surprised you even allowed his worthless ass to stay in town. However, Duke is a more serious issue. And Kane's ashing has me more than a bit concerned. Have you found out who did either one?"

Riordan kept smiling, but, inwardly, fumed. Who were these men to question how he ran his town? Then again, he thought, maybe they were testing his leadership abilities.

"Don't worry," he said. "Lin is taking care of those responsible as we speak."

"A-ha, your enforcer," Giancarlo noted. "And the main source of your strength."

"I'd like to be the main source of her strength," Ringgold said, with a crude laugh. "If I wasn't afraid of being castrated and decapitated."

Riordan looked toward the door again.

"Well, well, well," he said, happily. "Tsukiko Matsutaka looks as good in a gown as she does in a business suit."

"And there must be a God," Ringgold joked. "Is that Jewel Waterston in a dress? Will miracles never cease?"

Both women soon joined the group. Jewel wore a simple cream-colored gown that reached the floor. Matsutaka looked stunning, her well-toned body filling out her dress in all the right places. The diamond necklace around her throat made her look that much more exquisite.

The group made small talk while other clan leaders entered or left the room.

Suddenly, the room went quiet and Riordan looked toward the door.

Lin Tang had arrived.

Clad head to toe in black leather; she wore a ruffled jacket, midriff-baring bustier, knee-length skirt and stiletto boots that accentuated her sleek, muscular calves. In fact, her outfit made every muscle and sinew stand out like a statue to be admired. Even Matsutaka, who always considered herself among the world's most beautiful women, reddened slightly with jealousy.

Lin bowed gracefully and nodded slightly at her boss while Ringgold leered. Riordan knew she had taken care of the situation with Kuster. By the gleam in her eye, he also knew she'd taken care of Kuster. No doubt the man had said or done something completely stupid. He didn't care. He'd given the man ample opportunity to shape up, and, he could truthfully tell the clan leaders that he had done so.

"Ah, Lin, I see that you have concluded your business quite quickly," Riordan said. "As you all must know by now, this is Lin Tang. Lin, these are Tsukiko Matsutaka, Jewel Waterston, Edge Ringgold and Tesino Giancarlo."

"I am most honored to meet you all," Lin said, bowing gracefully again – like a courtesan.

Now, now, no need to lie. It is unbecoming a lady.

"Well, well, graciously mannered and stunningly beautiful," Giancarlo commented. "Where ever did you find such perfection, Louis?"

"From Lo Chang, where else," Ringgold replied, snidely.

Lin's smile disappeared briefly before returning in an awkward manner.

"Please forgive Edge," Waterston apologized. "He sometimes thinks before he speaks. The rest of the time, like now, he sticks his foot in his mouth."

"Not to worry," Giancarlo interjected. "That situation is in the past. Moonrise stuck its neck where it didn't belong and now it is gone. On to more pleasant things."

"Like the new wonderful age of vampires that will begin on Sunday," Riordan said.

"Why Sunday, Riordan-san?" Matsutaka asked.

"What better way to stick it to Him?"

Riordan laughed and ordered a waiter to bring more champagne.

Aurelia glanced at her watch and fumed. She was supposed to be home looking after the children, not waiting for Ian Hendricks in the parking lot of a roadside restaurant along Interstate 35. Still, she had little choice. Things had hit the fan and, as usual, she would have to clean it up. It wasn't like she needed another reason to hate having taken that bribe from Riordan.

She watched a large pickup truck pull into the lot and park near an SUV in the back. The door open and a rather stocky man wearing a brown leather Australian-type duster stepped out. The man also wore a cowboy hat, jeans, western shirt and brown cowboy boots.

Aurelia paid little mind to the clothes. It was Ian Hendricks' face that got her attention. His rugged good looks could melt even her foulest mood. She wanted nothing more than for that scruffy face to be looking at her, as they rode each other in rhythm to climax. Alas, she could never get it to happen, what with the kids and the demands of her job.

"Any reason why we're doing this in public and not over the phone?" asked a perturbed Hendricks.

"You know why," Aurelia shot back. "Face-to-face meetings carry more weight in my reports than a phone bill."

Aurelia studied Hendricks' face. He was one of the best private investigators in not just Texas, but the entire American southwest, not to mention Mexico. He had many contacts within the criminal world, as well as the legal one. His good looks, rugged demeanor and street smarts often got him information that many people would never dare give to the police. It was just that she really could not be sure of the man behind that pleasing face.

"What's up then?" he asked. "Now that we are facing each other."

"I need you to go down to Springtown for me," Aurelia said.

"That's a bit out of your jurisdiction."

"You heard about Duke? Lin Tang's number one lackey?" Aurelia eyed Ian coolly.

"Not really," Hendricks replied. "Per your instructions, I am not to keep an eye on anyone directly connected to Riordan or Lin Tang, unless specifically requested. That said – are you implying that Duke was one who got taken out in that ambush?"

"According to Riordan's people, yes," Aurelia answered. "They say someone found his wallet at the scene. They haven't been able to get a hold of him. So, put two and two together. Besides, you know that they can feel the death of their own kind, within a certain distance. And, the only body positively identified, both by witnesses and by fingerprints, is a man named Avery."

"Duke's cousin," Hendricks noted. "I've run into him before. The man boasts that his cousin is – or maybe was – a vampire. Most people thought he smoked his own product, since we all know vampires don't exist. Quote unquote."

"Here's what I need from you, Ian," Aurelia stated. "I'm pretty sure Duke was the other victim, but that's actually not the important thing. What I need to know, is how it was done and by whom. I don't need to see the streets of Fort Worth run red because Lin Tang starts her own brand of investigation."

"No, we just let the streets run red from the nightly partying of Fort Worth's vampire elite," Hendricks remarked, acidly.

"Just do what I'm fucking paying you for, okay?" Aurelia snapped. "I have to get back to the kids."

Hendricks watched Aurelia get into her car and drive away. He shook his head with some disdain, still smarting from the complete break from her usual professional demeanor. She was smart, gorgeous and had a body he wanted badly.

But, she was the enemy. It was one thing to take her money, but another to get involved emotionally. Those things rarely worked out in his line of work. Still, the more he met with her, the more his willpower decreased. Something had to give and Ian wasn't sure how much hell he'd catch when it did.

He took out his phone and speed-dialed a number.

"Yeah, this is Ian," he said when the other party answered. "Write this down."

Marcus Van Niekerk had relied so much on gut instinct to survive the brutal world of mercenary work, he knew something was up long before he got to the front gate of Manuel's Auto Repair on Jacksboro Highway. Even when Jessie Kellums tried to sound nonchalant about his entry request, he sensed that she was very upset. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why.

Angelica Morales felt the same thing, though her instincts weren't quite as refined as Marcus'. She had been a bodyguard for several years, but handling a few crazy fans and stalkers was nothing like going up against rebels in war-torn Africa. That didn't mean she was out of her element, though, and she eyed Marcus warily as she climbed out of the passenger side of his SUV after he had parked it inside one of the garage bays.

"A little too quiet tonight," Marcus remarked. "Normally, we'd be hearing Jessie's yammering as soon as got near the garage doors."

"I can imagine they might have a few questions for us," Angelica noted.

"No. Just one."

They stopped when they saw Jesus walk out of the garage office, with Wesley and Manuel Acevedo right behind him.

"Where the fuck is Cantrell?"

"Aha," Marcus replied, simply. "I see we watched the news."

"Now is not the time for that famous British humor, Marcus," Jesus shot back. "This is serious. I warned him what would happen if he didn't start being a team player. And no amount of explaining from you is going to keep me from kicking his ass out."

"Are we our brother's keeper?" Angelica whispered. "This is getting real old, real fast."

Marcus glanced at her and nodded slightly.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, Jesus," Marcus said. "What if I said it was all my idea? And I'm South African, in case you misplaced the accent."

"I'd say that you don't need to cover for Ryker anymore," Wesley answered. "Dude, do you think he's even worth it?"

"Jesucristo, Wesley," Angelica interjected, fuming. "¿Realmente escucha usted a usted cuándo usted habla? El hombre sólo le dijo la verdad. Deje de ser un Infante de marina y muestre alguna inteligencia para un cambio. Todavía mejor, déjeme traducir. Cierre el infierno y escuche o arrancaré su cabeza y defecaré abajo su cuello."

Wesley just stood in place, stunned.

"What the hell did she just say?"

"She said 'yes,'" Marcus replied, to which Acevedo kept mum, even as his face threatened to break out into laughter.

"That sounded awfully like a shot about Marines," Wesley remarked.

"She said 'marina,' dumb ass," Marcus remarked. "Didn't you listen? Anyway, the killing of Duke was not Ryker's idea. It was mine. You know Ryker's methods. If you two would stop going ballistic every time you think he's done something wrong, you might learn a thing or two. Ryker does not have that kind of finesse. And we all know that, don't we?"

Jesus looked shocked at the confession. He had his hands on his hips and seemed to be beside himself. Wesley and Manuel were even more stunned.

"What in God's name were you two thinking then?" Jesus demanded. "Do you know the can of worms you just opened?"

"Yes, I do," Marcus answered, standing his ground. "And if you want to ash-can me for not passing the idea by you first, then you're welcome to do so. But, Dolores said we needed to step things up. And, I figured a direct attack against Lin Tang was the way to go. Before, nothing we did before worked at drawing her out. Now, she'll have to get her pretty little hands dirty in the street."

"Yeah, and she might bring Riordan's entire organization down on our heads," Wesley shot back. "Did you think of that?"

Angelica stepped between the two parties.

"Truce time," she said. "We cannot fight amongst each other. We can't make it business-as-usual among hunters. The enemy has made it clear that they are organized and so must we."

"Okay, I am calm," Jesus said, after taking a deep breath. "Where is Ryker?"

"At one of my safehouses, keeping low for a day or two," Marcus answered, calmly.

"See how better it is to talk with cool heads?" Angelica noted. "Now, let's get back to the most important things."

"And those would be?" Jesus asked.

"What will Lin Tang do and how can we use that against her?" Angelica replied, with a sly grin.

"Wat ze bedoelt is het tijd om eff de werken," Marcus commented, with a larger grin.

"Eff up the works is right, brother," Wesley added. "What? I used to date a Dutch girl, okay?"

Jesus rolled his eyes.

"Dios, concédeme la fuerza," Manuel mumbled.

"God grant us all strength, Manuel," Jesus clarified. "Come on. Let's try to explain all of this to the others. In English."

Chapter 7

"You may not believe it, but I can sympathize a little with what you're going through," Kelly White Cloud said, as she sat down next to Heidi with a tray of food.

Heidi lifted her head. She smiled weakly and made room for the new arrival. She'd been all alone in the facility dining hall, while Jesus and the others held some kind of tribunal to discuss something that had gone down with Marcus. This had interrupted her initiation into the Hunters and had led Dolores to put her away from the others, as she was not yet a member.

"Really?" Heidi asked, surprised. "You were a vampire, too?"

"Well, no," Kelly laughed, with some embarrassment. "I was a half-dead."

"What's a half-dead?"

"Okay, you know how a heroin addict can get severely addicted to the point that they will do anything to get the drug, even rob and kill?" Kelly said. "I was bitten by a vampire named Lin Tang, just enough to get addicted to it. Without it, I went through severe withdrawal, so I did whatever Lin Tang told me to do just so she could bite me again. All I wanted was to get away from her, but I didn't want to face the DT's."

"How did that happen?" Heidi asked, now intrigued and alert. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Kelly shook her head.

"It's okay," she answered. "It does me good to talk about it. Let's put it this way – I was a wild child. Stubborn as a mule, ready to fight anybody and everybody. Must have been my Kiowa blood. Anyway, I met this guy, he took me to this exclusive club, and really worked to get me to join. I got antsy about it and tried to get out. That's when Lin Tang appeared and I found out my so-called boyfriend was a half-dead."

"And you willingly became a, what did you call it, a 'half-dead'?"

"It was either that or be bled dry by Lin Tang," Kelly said. "She was mad that I wasn't a willing recruit but she couldn't let me go either. After I became one of her subjects, she used that anger and rebellion within me to make me head of the group. My first act was to give my now former boyfriend a serious walking impediment."

"I know a lot of women who'd love to do the same thing to their exes," Heidi said, with a wide grin. "But, back to the story. Lin made you head of her group, just like that? I'll bet that went over well."

"Yeah, except for this scuzzball named Lincoln," Kelly replied. "He got his revenge. Lured me into a trap during a recruiting mission and left me for dead. If Ryker and Angelica hadn't happened along, I'd have been face down in a gutter, dead or probably something far worse."

"Did they inject you with the serum, too?" Heidi finally asked, after an uncomfortable silence. "I still don't know how I feel about being used as a guinea pig. I can't bring myself to forgive Ryker for saving me just to be used."

"Yeah, I heard about your reservations in the holding room," Kelly said. "I thought the steak was bad or something."

"No, it was actually pretty good."

"Good, because I cooked it," Kelly noted. "As for Ryker, I wouldn't be so hasty to condemn him. After all, without him, you'd be dead. There'd be no making up for any mistakes or helping others. Yeah, Cantrell's strange and abrasive. And aloof and weird, and a bunch of other adjectives I won't repeat. But if you need help, he's got your back."

"You're right," Heidi agreed, sheepishly. "Maybe I needed someone to lash out at since I haven't been able to get back at these vampires. God, I hate myself for getting taken so easily. I teach women how to defend themselves and not make themselves targets. Then, I go and do all the things I preach against."

"You know, you have twenty-four hours a day to blame yourself for what happened," Kelly said. "Or you can use it as a practical example of what not to do. Now, onto more important things; since Dolores is busy, it's up to me to give you a crash course in the world of vampires."

"Okay. Let me put my seatbelt on."

Diane Simmons shivered a little in the night air as she stood just in the shadows outside of the Fulbright Hotel, one of the most luxurious hotels in North Texas. The dress she wore was even slinkier than the one she'd used on Michael Anderson. It was not made for warmth or comfort.

About twenty feet behind her stood two others, a man and a woman, impeccably dressed. They seemed to be looking straight at Diane, but their eyes were carefully scanning the surroundings. Inside their jackets, they carried nine-millimeter pistols. They were half-deads, who ranked high enough to act as bodyguards for Diane on certain missions.

Diane strained to hear the music coming from the grand ballroom and wished she could be inside. But, she wasn't a vampire – not yet anyway. One day, if she served her master well enough, she would be inside with Riordan and his ilk. Right now, though, she did not rate high enough for entry into the foyer.

Still, Diane was Lin's obedient servant – her position as head of the half-deads depended on it. Without her new life, she knew she'd be back working as an escort for some sorry madam or pimp.

"Are we getting impatient?"

Diane gasped, jumping forward about a foot when she heard the voice behind her. She looked toward her bodyguards, who neither moved nor blinked. Turning, she breathed a sigh of relief as Lin Tang materialized out of the shadows.

"No need to be afraid, Diane," Lin said, as she approached her lead half-dead. "It is a weakness. Do not worry. You are not late. It is I who must apologize for the hour of this call."

'You, mistress?" Diane asked, somewhat incredulous.

"That is not important now," Lin said, dismissively. "Pay attention, for the mission that I mentioned to you earlier is canceled. It can wait. I have a new target for you."

"Yes, mistress."

"You, no doubt, have heard that Duke is dead," Lin continued, as she began to pace back and forth on the sidewalk. "That is an affront that cannot be allowed to stand. No. Will not be allowed to stand."

Diane was even more confused. She tried to steady herself on her six-inch stiletto heels as she contemplated her master's words. Lin, meanwhile, seemed to enjoy manipulating the gullible woman.

"Surely I would not be able to persuade the vampire responsible to give up such information, mistress," Diane blurted.

"It was not a vampire," Lin retorted. "No, I am afraid that we have a human hunter. One who has no idea, exactly, what he has stumbled into."

"How will I find this person, mistress?"

"Through the man who knows everything about this town, Diane," Lin answered, coyly licking her lips. "You know, Diane. You are very lucky."

Diane said nothing.

"I trust very few humans," Lin continued. "I once trusted humans implicitly, even after I was turned; that was before they murdered my master, Lo Chang. Before the one called Cantrell Ryker tortured him for the sheer fun of it. However, I have developed a fondness for a few humans, and, I do not mean these sniveling familiars."

Diane cast a wary glance at the nearby guards. If any of them took offense to Lin's words, they did not show it. That was probably wise, Diane thought.

"Kelly White Cloud was one such person," Lin said. "But, she is dead now. Betrayed by a human, of course. And now I have you, Diane. And do you know why I have a fondness for you?"

"No, mistress."

"Because you always do as I ask and have never failed me, Diane," Lin replied, walking up close enough to Diane to playfully nip at her neck. "So, I know you will not fail me this time."

"I will not fail you, mistress. M-mistress, please."

Lin smiled and then bit again at Diane's neck. She drank quickly and then lapped the wound with her tongue so that it healed. She stood back to let Diane experience the rush that her bite brought.

"T-thank you, mistress," Diane gasped, after recovering her faculties. "Who is my target?"

"A private detective," Lin replied. "He works for one of Mr. Riordan's police contacts, but I would not hesitate to say that he does not tell Detective Hernandez all that he knows. Put him under your spell, Diane and then he will tell me everything he does know. Everything."

Hendricks slowed his truck along Jacksboro Highway and turned right onto the driveway of a gray building that said "Manuel's Garage" on an overhead marquis. He eased into an open bay, shut off the engine and climbed out. Manuel Acevedo came out of a side office, wiping his dirty hands with an even dirtier towel.

"Hey, muchacho, what's wrong with the truck this time?" Avecedo asked. "You keep running this baby into the ground, you'll be making the last few payments for nothing."

"The boss around?" Hendricks asked.

"Oh, boy, is he," Avecedo replied, motioning towards the open doorway. "You're just in time for the tribunal."

"Tribunal?" Hendricks gave Manuel a curious look. "What is this? Ancient Rome?"

"You'll find out," was all Manuel said before turning his attention to Ian's truck.

Puzzled, Hendricks went into the office, looked around past the bookshelves, crowded with tattered auto manuals and an old television, and settled on the closet door. He opened it, stepped inside and turned on the light. He ducked past a row of overalls hanging on a clothing bar. At the back of the closet, he pressed a panel and watched it swing open. He found himself at the top of a long flight of steps, lit only by a single light bulb.

He descended. When he got to the bottom the barrel of a shotgun came out of the shadows and into his face. He threw his hands up defensively and the shotgun was pulled back.

"Jeez, didn't Manuel say I was coming down?" Hendricks objected. "And I thought there was some kind of tribunal going on? Don't tell me Ryker finally broke the camel's back with this Springtown mess?"

Horace Garvey stepped into the light and apologized. The gangly man, who looked barely old enough to be in college, tilted his faded red baseball cap to the back of his head, propped the sawed off shotgun on his left shoulder and stepped aside. Hendricks eyed the man warily and walked past him. He knew Horace Garvey was far older than his baby face announced and he wasn't about to underestimate him.

"You wish, kemo sabe," Horace joked. "No, we're actually talking about the mess you started with your little phone call."

Hendricks walked down a long, narrow hallway, followed closely by Horace. As it became much cooler, he realized he was passing under the hills upon which used to sit some of Fort Worth's finest mansions in Cowtown's heyday. The rich soil kept the hallway naturally cool. It also made it smell a little musty, he told himself. He could imagine all sorts of molds and fungi growing in the dark recesses and corners.

"What exactly is this little tribunal about?" he asked Horace.

"About killing these freaking vampires once and for all," Horace said. "Starting with Lin Tang."

"Sweet Jesus," Hendricks gasped. "Lin Tang? Just cut to the front of the line, why dontcha'?"

Hendricks came around a corner and found himself in a wide open room that had long metal tables and comfortable-looking office chairs. They were all there. Jesus, Wesley, Jessie, Dolores, Marcus, Angelica.

And they were all looking at him.

Ryker flipped through the 500 channels available on Marcus' satellite television package and still found nothing worth watching. Frustrated, he turned the television off and went into an adjacent room. Sitting down at the computer desk within, he logged on to the Internet and fished through the headlines – carefully avoiding the Springtown reports.

He played a few games of freecell and solitaire before switching to one of the military-style, first-person shooter games. After about an hour, he was tired of those and gave up. He didn't even feel like writing another chapter in his memoirs. Truth be told, he was already on the third volume of a series he could never publish.

"To hell with this," he muttered.

He went out into the living room and grabbed his jacket. He picked a backpack up from next to the couch and went to the basement door. He pulled a set of night-vision goggles from the pack, put them on and then headed down into the basement, his target was one of the safehouse's emergency exits.

In the living room, the telephone buzzed.

"Looks like someone's going to get hung. I'm hoping it's not me," Ian said as he stood before a semicircular table in the underground compound of the Hunters.

He felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. He glanced around at the table's occupants – Jesus, Dolores, Elvis, Marcus, Angelica, Jessie and Horace, who had just taken one of the last two available chairs. Jessie look shot daggers at him and he wished he'd never taken her out on that disastrous date six months earlier.

"Actually, Ian, you're in the way," Jesus replied. "You're blocking the computer screen. Have a seat."

Looking over his shoulder, Ian saw a rather complex organizational chart being beamed from a small laptop computer onto the opposite wall. Half the chart was on his coat. Sheepishly, he moved around the table and sat down next to Garvey.

"What I was referring to earlier, Ian, was to see where you stood in our arrangement," Jesus said. "As you should know, the battle against Riordan has been taken up a notch."

That's an understatement, Ian thought.

"Don't tell me you actually approved killing Lin Tang's right-hand man?" Ian asked, more than a bit stunned. "I can see Ryker doing it, yes, but you, Jesus? Dolores?"

"It wasn't Ryker's idea," Jesus retorted. "But, what's done is done. And, in the long run, it is probably a good thing."

"A good thing?" Ian queried. "I just got reamed by my police contacts. They're itching to find out who did it before Lin Tang and Riordan rip them a new one. You've stirred up a real hornet's nest. I hope you have a good follow-up plan."

Jesus nodded at Marcus, who stood up and moved around the table. He stopped next to the organizational chart. He pressed a button on a remote in his pocket and the chart changed.

"Yes, Ian, we do have a follow-up plan, but it may get us all killed," Marcus answered. "Then again, how is that different from any other day? We don't have too much choice as we are just a small group. What you see here, plus Michael Lee, Cantrell, Kelly White Cloud and a new member we just got in recently. Oh and Manuel in the garage, of course."

Ian studied the chart and saw that it broke down the Hunters group into different categories. He saw titles for Leadership, Technology, Weapons, Transportation, Planning, Intelligence and Training. Each header had one or two names next to it. His name was next to Intelligence, along with Kelly White Cloud and Ryker, and he suppressed a groan at having to work with Cantrell.

"Is this just an organizational chart?" he asked. "Just noting who's who with what specialty, or, is it what I think it is?"

"It's what you're thinking," Wesley replied.

"Not afraid of a little hard work, are you, Ian?"

Ian frowned at Jessie's cutting remark. She clearly didn't know how thin of a line he treaded on a daily basis, acting as a double agent. He was taking a big chance just coming to the compound, though his news was very important this day. Normally, he called via one of his coded cellular phones.

"You realize that I can't be put into a position of being possibly compromised," he noted. "And you do realize that Ryker is supposed to be dead."

"Can't be helped," Marcus chimed in. "If we are to take this fight to Riordan's doorstep, we need to be as efficient as possible. That means training in not only our specialty, but cross-training in another. We've got to hone our organization. No more random patrols just to seem like we're doing something positive. We don't have a great deal of time."

"And we may have even less."

Everyone looked up to see Michael Lee entering the room.

"Okay, then, why do we have even less time?" Jesus asked.

"I tried to establish comms with Cantrell at the safehouse," Lee said, scratching his scruffy beard. "I still haven't gotten an answer."

"Damn it," Jesus groaned.

Ryker nibbled at the egg salad sandwich he'd purchased at a local gas station just after leaving Marcus's safehouse. As he did so, he brought the binoculars back up to his eyes and peered down at the street. He was in an empty suite in a partially-finished office building near downtown Fort Worth.

It had been a chore getting into the building. He'd gone through the sewers, a hole in the wall, a sea of rats, who didn't like his intrusion, and up an old drainage pipe from the previous building that had occupied the site. Then, he had to crawl through an air vent to the shaft of the freight elevator, and ride to the tenth floor on the car's roof, when the building's lone security guard made his rounds. From there, he climbed a maintenance ladder up to the twelfth floor, going faster than normal, as he needed the car to provide a safety net in case he slipped.

He'd obviously made it, scampering into another vent just as the guard returned to the freight car and went back down to the lobby to take another nap. He'd made such a treacherous journey because of what he found in his e-mail. Months earlier, he'd had Michael Lee set up a program to monitor activity by any of Riordan's front companies.

Tonight, that program had come across a gala event organized at one of Fort Worth's most posh hotels. Riordan had rented out the entire banquet hall and Ryker could see why. The security guards were numerous and at least two of them were familiars, who worked directly with Travis Pratt. A third, he was almost sure, he'd seen with that pasty-faced bastard Porter Coleman.

Ryker didn't know why Riordan was hosting the reception, but he had gambled that it was extremely important. More than likely, he figured Riordan was putting more corporation officers, political leaders and cops on his payroll. He wanted to see who else he might have to add to the Hunters' target lists.

His cell phone vibrated in his tunic pocket. He ignored it. It could only be an irate Jesus. He really didn't feel like explaining his actions yet again. Jesus would just yell at him some more.

Sometimes, he wished he was still with Moonrise, Inc. He'd been brought in to the group as a liaison between the various departments – the group was divided into sections that handled cults, covens, vampires and miscellaneous. Competing for funds, the groups had fallen into something worse than the interservice rivalries that plagued the American military. Ryker was supposed to work to facilitate communications between the sections, as he was an outsider who had no personal connections in any of the departments.

It was a cold assignment, but at least no one had ever yelled at him for doing what he felt needed to be done, to get the job accomplished. He only wished it all hadn't ended so badly.

He still remembered the event in San Antonio quite vividly. What a cluster that had been, Moonrise had attempted to break up a religious cult that kidnapped fifty college students.

They had severely underestimated the size of the cult. Thirty armed men turned into sixty, and, at least five of them were actually vampires looking to convert some college students into familiars. Ryker had to help, even though he hadn't been cleared for field work.

By the end of the day, he'd taken out several cult members trying to gun down fleeing students in the back. Then he helped capture Lo Chang, the cult's teacher or "sensei." Which ended messily, as well, with Ryker blowing out the sensei's kneecaps.

Ryker grimaced at the memories. Had San Antonio been the turning point, he wondered. Had that been when he became such a cold-hearted person? Was saving the likes of Heidi, Kelly and Jessie his way of trying to regain some of the humanity he'd lost with Moonrise? Was it why he chose to obey only some order with the Hunters, because he'd gotten so many conflicting ones with Moonrise?

Three years hadn't been enough to dull the backlash. He was still a pariah, even after coming in from the cold. Why?

Man, he thought. This is weirder than the Isle of Blood. Of course, he realized, he couldn't talk about that particular ordeal. The whole thing was still classified top secret.

Just then, he saw a fleet of limousines pull up to the hotel. Shoving his thoughts back into the deep recesses of his mind, he activated his miniature video camera. He wanted to keep a record of who he saw, so that, later on, he could check them out through Ian Hendricks.

When the first people finally came out, Cantrell Ryker blanched.

"What the hell?" he muttered, as he took a long, hard look. "Oh, my God."

At one time, he wanted Jesus and Dolores to seriously reconsider their purpose for coming to Fort Worth to take on Riordan. He didn't think they were organized enough for such a task. He'd warned them that their time to act was dwindling rapidly.

Now, as he watched Riordan's guests – fifteen of North America's most powerful clan masters – exiting the banquet hall, he realized they actually had no time at all.

He pulled out his phone.

Chapter 8

Louis Riordan made sure he was the first one to the front door as the reception broke up. He wanted to bid his guests farewell before they headed back to their hotel rooms or searched for more amorous action. Lin Tang had already excused herself earlier to meet with Diane Simmons, no doubt to begin her own investigation of Duke's death. He fretted a little about that, hoping she would not let herself become so distracted by it that she forgot her role in the awakening.

Travis Pratt stood by him at the door and he merely nodded at the man. He found him, oddly enough, doing security at a local wrestling arena where Riordan had met with a man trying to get him to invest. He sensed that Pratt needed to handle something more than rousting drunken rednecks and had recruited him that very night.

"Limousines approaching now, sir," Pratt said.

The line of limousines rolled around the corner into the valet parking lane of the reception hall. As each one stopped in front of the lobby, a master vampire and his ilk walked outside and got in. Riordan said his goodbyes and thanked them all for coming.

As they left, he noted their names and the cities from which they hailed. Mentally, he wanted to make sure he knew them all well enough to call them by their first names when they met for the negotiations. He'd learned decades ago that such a method made even the most nervous guest feel comfortable.

Nelly O'Roarke, a spry redhead from Chicago, was the first one outside, walking with a tall Latino that Riordan knew only as a local paid escort. The familiars, who couldn't get into a master vampire's clan, had gotten clever by hiring themselves out as escorts for visiting masters or important guests. Riordan didn't mind it because it showed the kind of initiative he wanted from the people in his organization.

Beauregard Collins was next. He had arrived alone, but now left with two female familiars who hung all over him like a second skin. Riordan was impressed. He'd long held the impression that both women were hardcore lesbians. Then again, Collins had quite the reputation as a ladies' man back in Atlanta.

The rest of the masters seemed to go by in a blur. Jake Lucabaugh, in charge of the Houston clan; Alexia Ciccione, from Minneapolis-St. Paul of all places; Mia DuMont, a dusky beauty representing the Caribbean; Luc D'Estaing, from Baton Rouge, Louisiana; Esmeralda and Alberto Lupo, former heads of drug cartels who had married and now controlled vampires in the northern half of Mexico.

The next group consisted of the ones who most concerned Riordan. They were the upstarts, clan masters who upset the balance of power just for the hell of it. Life was definitely a game to them, and, the biggest game was challenging the oldest, most established clans. Riordan had tabbed them the most likely to object to his quest for leadership of the new alliance.

The ebony beauty Nyrobi Kenya, who came from St. Louis, held huge sway in the American Midwest. Aguelo Munoz controlled Central America and, in many ways, was more powerful than the Lupos' Mexican concerns. Elisa Fusco, another Italian-American like Giancarlo and Ciccione, was the group's most reluctant member, as she had been forcefully turned by her own mother in Boston's South End. But, she was strong on family and had been faithfully representing her clan's New England interests for years.

The final quartet were the masters he'd been standing with for most of the night. Edge Ringgold went to his limousine, a brunette from his native Toronto on his arm. Pratt had hired her to be a hostess, unaware of her Canadian roots. Tsukiko Matsutaka and Jewel Waterston left together and Riordan found himself actually surprised. He knew Waterston liked women but he thought that Matsutaka abhorred such sexual notions. Finally, Giancarlo and his date, Eva, stepped outside.

"A very delightful evening, Louis," Giancarlo said, with a slight smile. "I might have to admit that such things are possible outside of New York and Newark."

Riordan thanked him. Though, inwardly he hated the man's conceit. He certainly did not want to have such a man in charge of the collective. That ego would only breed contempt among the others. If, however, that conceit was under his thumb, Riordan would find it far easier to control.

Riordan watched as Pratt closed the limousine door and the vehicle drove off. He breathed a sigh of relief and nodded at his chief of security. He bid him goodnight, just as Allison came outside, clad in a stunning burgundy gown. Riordan slid an arm around his secretary's waist and ushered her back inside, to a private room.

Pratt put two men on the door, dismissing the rest of the special exterior detail for the night. Then, something caught his eye, a glint of light from the building across the way. He looked up just as one of his familiars came up to him. He ignored the man as his eyes scanned the twelfth floor.

More than likely, it was just moonlight hitting the building's glass panels, but something still bugged him. He felt as if he were being watched. It was almost simple to guess by whom. Though he'd met with the master vampires' security teams, he didn't doubt at least one of them had brought along a few extras, of a more clandestine nature. He had suspected that from Giancarlo at least and, possibly, the Lupos with their old drug cartel connections.

"Something wrong, boss?"

Pratt looked at the familiar and shook his head.

"Probably nothing," he said. "Thought I saw something."

"It might be the building's security guard getting curious," the familiar offered. "Of course, that would probably mean he'd have to be awake. Should I take one of the boys and go see?"

"That's okay," Pratt replied. "We can't chase every shadow. Besides, you're off the clock now. It's your own time. Go have some fun."

The familiar shrugged his shoulders and moved away to catch up with the other guards who had just gotten off duty.

"This is totally on you, Marcus," Jesus snorted as he pushed back from the table and began to pace the floor. "Ryker has got to play ball with the rest of us, and, leaving the safehouse without letting anyone know doesn't qualify."

"He's probably getting full service at one of his massage parlor hangouts," Jessie suggested, derisively.

Ian gave her a dirty look and shook his head. He was used to that from her. She often berated and demeaned others to hide her own insecurities.

Michael Lee stood in the back, trying to shrink back out of the room. He was a computer expert, not a politician or spin doctor. He had no head for the kind of personal interplay that drove the group. Give him a computer or ask him to design a program and he was content.

His phone buzzed and he was glad for the distraction. Then, he saw the number on the caller ID and frowned. Nothing like a call from Ryker to kill a mood, he thought, as he answered.

After listening for a moment, his face grew ashen. It must have been noticeable for the room suddenly grew quiet. He looked up to see everyone staring at him. He told everyone who it was and passed the phone to Jesus, who put it down on the table after activating the speaker feature.

"We've got serious problems, guys," Ryker's voice came out.

"No, muchacho," Jesus retorted. "You've got serious problems. Like where you're going now that you've gotten on my last nerve."

"If that would make this situation go away, I'd gladly do it," Ryker replied. "But, it's not, so shall we can the attitude and just listen for a change?"

Jesus started to go off on Ryker's insolence, but Dolores touched his arm and shook her head. It was enough for her husband to stifle himself. She moved the phone closer to her.

"Both of you need to can the attitude," she said, curtly. "Now, please tell us why you left the safehouse? And, why this phone call is so important?"

Dolores listened intently. As she did, she grew more alarmed. When the call ended, she was only able to say four words.

"Mary, mother of God."

Ryker wanted to give out a lot more information, but he had his own problems. He heard the distinct bell of the elevator echo down the hallway. The freight car had arrived at his floor. Even worse, he was sure he heard the click of one of the stairwell doors, so he had at least two visitors. The fact that one had come by elevator and the other by the emergency stairs meant they knew something was amiss.

He couldn't figure how he might have given away his presence, but that was not the most important thing right now. He stuffed his binoculars into his backpack and moved to the door. He peeked out quickly and saw that the immediate hallway was empty. He stepped into it and disappeared into the nearest open doorway.

Joachim Danforth had only been a familiar with Travis Pratt for six months, but had been moving up steadily in the ranks, gaining more responsibility. He had a knack for acting on his instincts and that gained him much favor. It had also gained him some enemies among his fellow guards. Which is why he had only taken one other familiar with him into the building. Gina Golightly was the type of person who jumped on the coattails of fast risers like himself.

He looked over at the building's security guard, who was as nervous as a cat. The man was just a low-level familiar, but Danforth needed another body. The man wasn't worth much, but he could, at least, watch both the elevator and the nearby door to the stairs, while he and Golightly searched the floor.

Pratt said it wasn't necessary to check the building. But, he had also said that the guards were off-duty. So, Danforth had opted to check the building, knowing that he could always claim to be acting on his own initiative should things go wrong.

"Gina, see anything?" he asked into the mouthpiece of his headset.

"Nothing yet," came the reply.

"Move down the hall, check all doors," Danforth ordered. "Note the unlocked ones and meet me at the window where Pratt thought he saw the light. Don't go into any rooms by yourself. Got it?"

"Got it."

Just then, the lights went out. The whole floor was cast into complete darkness, save for a couple of emergency lanterns. Danforth gripped his gun tighter and looked back at the elevator. The indicator lights were still on.

"What gives?" he asked the bewildered security guard. "How could anyone have gotten to the power box in the basement so fast?"

"The building has been redesigned," the guard said. "Each floor above the tenth has a separate way to cut power only to that floor. For safety reasons, in case electricians or engineers have to cut out circuits to make changes. We couldn't have power to the whole building cut out for every little modification."

That made sense to Danforth. It also meant that they were dealing with a real intruder, not just a figment of Pratt's imagination. He thought about calling for additional help, and stopped himself. It would be a real feather in his cap if he could catch the intruder with just himself and Gina.

"Gina, meet me at the central point," he ordered.

He told the security guard to stay put and moved down the hall. He never made it to the meeting place. Somebody stepped out of a side door and hit Danforth in the genitals, causing the man to drop like a sack of flour.

The shadow reared back and hurled something at the security guard, who was trying to make a call on his cell phone. The man dropped the phone and clutched at the stiletto buried, just barely, in his chest. It was painful but not fatal.

"Relax, you'll live," Ryker said as he stepped into the light of an emergency lamp on the wall, a cattle prod in his left hand.

The guard saw the cattle prod that Ryker had used on Danforth's genitals and fainted. He dropped to his knees and fell face forward to the floor. Unfortunately, he landed on the knife and drove it into his chest deep enough to kill him.

"Oh, great," Ryker muttered. "One of these days, I may actually kill someone intentionally."

Gina Golightly knew she should have brought her phone with her. Instead, she'd left it charging in her car while she helped Danforth. Now, she had no way of calling for help. She hadn't been able to get Danforth on the radio. And, like a fool, she'd used one of his earpiece units, meaning she could only communicate with him. He obviously wanted more glory for catching the intruder and she had idiotically tagged along.

By rights, she should have been heading home to a nice warm bed. If her luck held out, she might have caught either her friend Sally or Eric in time for them to come over and keep her company in bed. Instead, she was facing off against an intruder who had neutralized Danforth, who was a much better security guard than she.

Peering around the corner, she took in the entire hallway and then pulled her head back. This was bad. Danforth was prone on the floor and the security guard was on his back, by the elevator, with what had to be a knife sticking out of his chest.

Steeling herself, she moved into the hallway and stopped by Danforth's body. She knelt down to check it, hoping to find his cell phone. She then noticed that his submachine gun was missing. That was because the barrel of that gun was now pressed to her right ear and the sound of the safety being released echoed down the hall.

"P-please, don't shoot," she stammered.

She was no fool. Being a familiar had its rewards, but it also held great dangers. Ironically, she wasn't in it for the rewards. She was paying off a serious gambling debt she'd incurred at one of Pratt's rigged parlor games.

No shot came.

"I'm going to ask you for a favor some day," a deep voice said to her. "I'll expect you to honor it, no matter what. In return, you'll live. Do I have your word?"

Golightly was speechless. She didn't know what to say. However, the person pressing the gun barrel harder against her skull brought her back to reality.

"Y-yes," she blurted. "I'll honor it."

She suddenly felt a hand come down over her shoulder and press against her left breast. She caught her breath and thought the worst. However, her mind tried to convince her the indignity was a small price to pay for her life. Just then, the hand lifted the flap of her tunic pocket and slipped what felt like a business card inside.

"Get the hell out of town," the voice said. "Call the number on the card. They'll take care of you. This city is about to explode. I need you alive if you're going to keep your word."

It took almost two minutes before Golightly realized the gun barrel was no longer by her ear. It took another minute to gather enough courage to look back and see no one was behind her. In a flash, she was on her feet and heading down the emergency stairs. By the time workmen discovered the bodies of Danforth and the guard late the next morning, Gina Golightly would be halfway to St. Louis.

Ryker watched Golightly disappear down the stairs. He waited a moment and took the staircase on the opposite side of the building. He really hadn't wanted to kill anyone if he could help it. The last thing he needed was for police to find dead bodies that didn't turn to ash.

And he really didn't consider Gina Golightly another of his "pretty strays." Though she really did fill out that uniform that she wore, she was worth more as a future asset. He had survived three years on the run by using such contacts to stay out of the crosshairs of law enforcements and vampire enforcers. If things went the way he hoped they might against Riordan, he figured he might have to go underground again and he would need even more help this time around.

And if things actually got worse, something that was entirely possible with sixteen master vampires in town, he would need protection more than ever. These were the days he wished he'd never left the Navy. Sitting off the coasts of Iraq or Libya seemed to be a much safer way of making a living.

Back at the compound, Kelly and Heidi walked into the main meeting hall. When they saw everyone sitting at the table, silently, they became concerned. The atmosphere had changed and not for the better.

"You called for us, Jesus?" Kelly asked.

Jesus looked up at the two women and nodded. He had his hands folded. The others either mimicked him or refused to look at the newcomers. Something was definitely wrong.

"Heidi, I must apologize," Jesus finally said. "But, we must hold off on your indoctrination into the group."

Heidi's eyes grew wide with surprise.

"I don't understand, sir," Kelly said. "I thought she had passed the initial checks."

"Something's come up," Wesley interjected. "And it's very serious."

Kelly looked at Heidi. They both had fear in their eyes.

"It goes against everything I've worked for over the last ten years," Jesus said, slowly, while glancing at Dolores, who looked away. "But, I feel I must do it for the safety of the group."

Heidi shivered. Did they not trust her? Were they going to send her away?

"This operation is over," Jesus said, in a heavy voice. "We're pulling out."

Chapter 9

Marcus was in no mood to make any changes to his computer files. Normally, he would be modifying the various contingency plans he created for attacking vampires such as Lin Tang and Louis Riordan. Now, he felt so disgusted at the recent turn of events he couldn't even turn on the computer. He just sat in his room, brooding in the dark.

"Penique pues tus pensamientos, amigo."

Marcus looked up to see Angelica standing in the doorway. Smiling weakly, he motioned for her to come in. She found her way to one of his spare office chairs and plopped herself into it.

"Penny for my thoughts, eh?" he mused. "Well, I think you'll need a boatload of pennies. This is absolutely the wrong decision. We shouldn't run."

"Jesus had his reasons, Marcus," Angelica shot back. "He's got to worry about the entire operation. We weren't looking so good trying to take down Riordan – but, now, add another fifteen clan masters in town, most likely with their most trusted lieutenants and security staff. Our task is virtually impossible. We'd be vastly outnumbered by them alone."

Angelica had a point, but Marcus had not survived as a mercenary by running from fights. The whole nature of his profession was to take on superior enemy forces. Mercs countered such enemies by using extensive experience and superior tactics. More than once, a platoon of highly-trained mercenaries, together with one or two helicopters, had routed entire Third World armies.

Marcus had never run from a fight. Once, when he and two others had found themselves surrounded by Robert Mugabe's Zimbabwean army, outnumbered one hundred to one, he had fought on. After killing sixty Zimbabweans, he and the others had escaped the trap, having put fear into their lesser-trained foes. His reputation had soared after that, and, to this day, he still had a high price on his head from Mugabe's ilk. Of course, he'd always joked, the price was in Zimbabwean currency, which wasn't worth enough to cover the bullets necessary to kill him.

"So, we wait for the clan masters to leave, is that it?" he asked. "What do you think?"

"You don't want to know what I think, Marcus."

"Yes, Angelica, I do," he said.

Angelica took a deep breath and thought about her words. This wasn't one of her bodybuilding contests. It wasn't even one of her bodyguard assignments. It was a virtual life-or-death decision.

"I think Jesus and Dolores are right," she finally said. "There will be other fights against Riordan. He's not going to pack up and leave Fort Worth to the clan masters. I say we wait until this little get-together is over and then come back."

Marcus was disappointed. He really thought he knew Angelica. He could never imagine her backing down from any fight. He got up and moved to the back of the room so she wouldn't see the look on his face.

"Oh, my God, Marcus," she exclaimed. "Don't tell me you want us to try to take on that many clan masters? I can see it with Cantrell, but you?"

Marcus moved over to a desk. Callously, he began tossing odds and ends into a small box. Behind him, Angelica folded her arms and fussed.

"You can't make me go away with that distraction, Marcus," she snorted. "You're a mercenary. You live very Spartan. A few minutes from now, you'll be packed and have nothing else to do but talk to me."

Marcus sighed and turned.

"Okay, hear me out on this," Angelica said, pushing herself to her feet. "Be the rational mercenary I've grown to care about. You said that, on paper, we should be as organized as the clans. And then you emphasized on paper. In reality, we're paper tigers. You know Jesus and Dolores recruited most of us over the past three years. We don't have the cohesion to take on such a large task. Maybe, at one time, we did, but not now and you know perfectly well why."

Marcus did know. It was the untimely deaths of sixty members of the now-defunct Moonrise, Inc. in a cataclysmic explosion in California three years earlier. The effects of that disaster were still being felt.

The mercenary knew just one and possibly two percent of the world's population was actively aware that vampires existed. Discounting victims, most of those in the know were familiars or corrupt people on the take from vampires. The rest were hunters, outnumbered ten to one, sometimes worse depending on the geography.

By nature, hunters tended to be loners, pariahs in a civilized world. They rarely came together, but when they did, it was often for some huge mission. So, losing sixty in one event was devastating. A huge chunk of the most experienced hunters were suddenly gone.

From what Marcus had learned of the Hunters, at one time, the group had almost thirty-five members, second in size only to Moonrise. After the latter's demise, all but one person – Manuel Acevedo – left the group. Some got cold feet. Others figured it was safer to hunt alone or in pairs, so that any losses would be smaller.

"I wish Ryker would hurry up and get back," Marcus blurted, shifting to find a more comfortable stance.

"If that's your ace in the hole, amigo, we definitely have to get out of town," Angelica retorted. "Ryker will never convince Jesus to stay, if only because of the bad precedent it would set by having Jesus agree with Cantrell on anything."

"Yeah, you're right," Marcus said, with a heavy sigh. "It just galls me to run like this. I didn't run from Gaddafi or Mugabe or Gbagbo or the Junta in Myanmar. But, I have to run from a scumbag like Riordan."

"Look on the bright side," Angelica said, as she got to her feet and moved toward the doorway. "It will take the rest of us a few days to get packed and moving. Who knows what might happen in that time?"

Michael Lee couldn't type anymore than Marcus could design another tactical plan at that moment. Now that the mission was being abandoned, he had the staggering task of packing up the compound's computers for storage. That meant sanitizing them of sensitive information, like personnel identification, with special computer programs.

What bothered him is that he normally sanitized the computers when the group either finished a successful operation or moved onto another one. Doing so now, only reminded him that they were running away from a mission.

He walked into the underground compound's surveillance control room. He knew he could not sanitize these computers because of the security issue. He was just here to talk.

"You can't be starting here with the sanitizing?" Garvey asked, looking up in surprise at Lee's entrance.

Jessie, who had been leaning back in her chair playing solitaire on one of the room's computers, glanced at Michael and then returned to her game.

"He's not, bumpkin," she replied, with a yawn.

"Just came here to talk," Lee said, grabbing the only empty chair. "Everybody else is busy. Jesus and Dolores. Kelly is helping Heidi, and Marcus and Angelica are having a long discussion."

Jessie suddenly sat up.

"Where's Ian?" she asked. "With Dr. Patel or Elvis?"

"Naw," Lee answered. "Elvis is trying to convince the doc to pack up. I think Ian is bailing."

"Shit," Jessie spat.

She jumped to her feet, rudely pushed past Lee's chair and stormed out of the room. Lee stared after her and gave Garvey a questioning look. The former Marine just shrugged.

"Don't ask," Garvey said, simply. "Now, what do you want to talk about?"

"But, you can't stay here, Patel."

Patel let his shoulders sag as he took a deep breath. He'd been listening to Wesley's reasons for packing up and leaving ever since Dolores and Jesus had made the decision. He sought what he thought would be the peaceful security of his lab, but Wesley had invaded the sanctity of it anyway.

"Surely, you realize the breakthrough we have just made," he said. "The serum has been proven to work. It now needs to be tweaked so that it can serve as a vaccination for all of us. If we pack up and move now, that momentum is lost. Jostling the equipment might throw off the calibration and affect the results. No, I simply cannot move now. Please impart that information to Jesus."

Wesley leaned back against a bench and scrunched his eyebrows. He wondered if the dull ache in his head was the beginning of a migraine. He'd never met so many stubborn people in one organization as this one – and he'd been a Marine drill instructor.

"Okay, Doc," he conceded. "Let me see what I can come up with. I still have a few connections in town. Maybe not as many as Marcus or Angelica but I might know someone at PJS who can help."

At that, Patel's ears perked up. Turning from his microscope, he looked at the former Marine with newfound interest. Peter Jaysmith was the main public hospital in Tarrant County and one of the top medical facilities in not just Texas, but the entire Southwest. It was also famous as both a teaching hospital and a research facility for the area's college medical programs.

"Well, Staff Sergeant, I might actually be persuaded to begin packing," he said, with a smile.

"Finally, a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dreary day," Wesley quipped as he stood tall.

"By the way, has anyone informed Cantrell?" Patel asked.

"Thanks for raining on my parade, Doc," Wesley groaned.

"I'm confused."

"Join the club," Kelly said, as she flicked a stray tress of black hair out of her eyes.

She and Heidi had retreated to the compound's cafeteria, which actually consisted of a few tables and chairs, two microwave ovens and a small refrigerator. Kelly had very few items to pack and Heidi, of course, had none.

"Let's see," Heidi said, holding up fingers to count. "In the course of a few days, I've been on the worst blind date ever, gotten attacked by a vampire, watched Ryker cut a guy's head off, became a vampire, got cured by a mad scientist, got recruited into a secret society, and, just when I was finally pumped enough to start kicking vampire ass, found out my new leaders are wimps."

Kelly sympathized with Heidi Nguyen. She had signed on with the group in hopes of taking down Lin Tang. Now, it seemed that chance would pass. Oh, sure, she knew Jesus and Dolores had promised to return once the clan masters left, but Kelly wasn't stupid. Something big had to be occurring for so many clan leaders in one spot. She doubted things would go back to the way they had been; certainly not enough for the Hunters to slip back into town and set up shop with nary a notice from the powers-that-be.

"Not wimps," Kelly retorted, though she didn't sound sure of her own words. "Over-reactive maybe, but not wimps. You don't know the hell they've been through or the hell they've dished out. If anything, with most of us having joined piecemeal over the past couple of years, they might have felt we didn't have the organization to take on such a big threat."

Heidi sighed. Maybe she was overreacting herself, but, at least, she had a good excuse. She'd had not one but two life-altering moments in the past couple of days. She was angry, first at herself but, mostly, at a scourge she had no idea existed a few days ago. She needed something to vent her rage on and now she was being asked to put that rage on hold for God only knew how long.

"Look at it like this, Heidi," Kelly said, placing a hand gently on one of her new friend's shoulders. "We'll have more time to see those fantastic moves you keep telling us about. Akira jitsu."

"That's aki-jitsu," Heidi corrected.

She smiled weakly, gave in and started laughing.

Jesus knew he'd find his wife here. She did not turn at the sound of his footsteps, as he approached the holding chamber that had once caged Heidi Nguyen. Even when he put his arms around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring kiss on the left cheek, she did not respond. Taking the hint, he stepped back and gave her some space.

"I thought we both agreed that it was necessary?" he asked, looking frustrated.

"We were on top of the world, weren't we?" Dolores murmured. "We cured Heidi and it looked like we finally found an edge in our long war. Now, it all might have been for nothing."

"It's just for a short time," Jesus said.

"Don't lie to me," Dolores shot back, turning to look at him with tear-stained cheeks. "I know you – you've never run before. And make no mistake, Jesus, we are running. Not laying low for a few days, but running away."

"He who fights and runs away..." Jesus wisely let the idiom peter off.

Throwing up his hands in frustration, he began pacing back and forth. It was true that he was in a very unfamiliar position. For ten years, he and Dolores had fought the good fight. They had always taken that fight to the enemy and refused to let the enemy intimidate them.

Except now.

"Why is now any different?" Dolores asked, as if she'd read her husband's mind.

"Well, you have to admit the sixteen clan masters have a lot to do with it," Jesus replied, trying to remain cool and collected. "Surely, you can't expect us to take on that many masters. We need more training. Marcus and Elvis are working on it, but we need a lot more time."

Dolores turned away.

"We knew that when we started this whole thing," she said, slowly. "It's why I pressed you to allow Cantrell in. We knew Riordan was up to something big, just not this big. We agreed he had to be taken down but the whole operation has been a foul-up from the start. What the hell were we thinking?"

Jesus held his tongue. What could he say, really? He had been as gung-ho as his wife putting this operation in motion. Riordan had to be stopped before he realized whatever plan he was working on. Only, Jesus had thought their foe was trying to expand his territory to include most of Texas. He certainly could not have contemplated the man bringing in fifteen clan masters.

Dolores was right in one respect. The whole mission was a cluster. He had been assembling the team little by little, bringing them along slowly with limited missions in outlying areas against relatively weak master vampires. He had hoped to cultivate a fighting force that was close to, if not as good as, the group he'd led before things went to hell in a hand basket after Moonrise Inc.'s horrific demise.

Now, he realized he fooled himself and the others as well. He'd unnecessarily risked all their lives. Simply put, while each of them was very good in his or her respective field, as a team, they were simply out of the league of Lin Tang, much less the clan masters. Assassinating Duke was bold, and it had been a coordinated effort that had left no trail to his group, while baffling Lin Tang. But, it was just one success.

"All the more reason to pull back and regroup," he blurted out. "At the very least, we can lie low until Lin Tang cools down. We can go someplace far from here and train. I mean really, really train. Make ourselves a force to be reckoned with, not one going against impossible odds, hoping to get lucky and take Lin Tang."

Dolores said nothing and Jesus knew why. It wasn't the money they had wasted setting up the compound or the valuable time lost. It was the notion that the vampires were going to win again. Even Jesus couldn't guess what those clan masters were planning with Riordan. He couldn't tell how bad things might be after the Hunters left or if they'd even be able to return once they did get their act together.

Worst of all, for Jesus, he had blown a golden opportunity. It was rare for a large group of hunters to set up shop in any clan-controlled territory without drawing notice. A man like Riordan had an army of familiars, along with crooked cops and politicians, spying for him. And Lin Tang's half-deads only made matters worse, for they often prowled night clubs, strip clubs and bars looking for recruits. Meaning the main places that the Hunters counted on for inside information were compromised.

Suddenly, Dolores turned, walked quickly over to her husband and threw her arms around him. She buried her head on his shoulder and let her tears flow unhindered. Jesus said nothing, but just held her tight.

"It'll be okay, baby," he cooed. "We'll make it through this like we always have."

"Promise?" she sniffled between sobs.

"I promise," Jesus replied, though he wondered how he'd ever be able to keep it.

"Things have definitely taken a turn for the surreal," Ian Hendricks said to himself, as he walked toward the staircase that would lead up to Manuel's garage.

He really didn't know what to say about Jesus' decision to pack up and leave. One part of him said it was a wise decision as this group was no match for Riordan. The other part of him was angry because he'd been risking his life as a double agent, so to speak, and the thought all of that effort had been for naught was enough to make him burn up inside. True, he was being paid well for his services and he didn't like losing clients – especially ones that paid – but this was an entirely different game.

He still had Aurelia Hernandez to contend with. She was growing desperate for answers about Duke's assassination and he was wondering if Lin Tang would let that particular matter die down if she did not get immediate results herself. It was unlikely, meaning that the Hunters might have to make a fighting retreat.

Anyway he looked at it, he was screwed. He'd either lose a well-paying client or he'd lose a well-paying, beautiful, corrupt detective who paid even better.

It was times like these, Ian wondered how he'd gotten into this game in the first place. Certainly losing his ex-fiancee and her entire family to vampires had something to do with it. But, there had to be more since he was, technically, working for the enemy. Money was a big part (he'd always loved his trucks and expensive clothes) but that couldn't explain it all. Big trucks and fine clothes meant nothing if he was dead. And he would be dead if anyone on Riordan's payroll ever found out about his double-dealing.

"Ian, wait up!"

Ian groaned. He knew that voice. Yet another reason why he wondered why he'd stuck by these hunters. Jessie was a beautiful girl, no doubt about it, but she was too high-strung and stubborn, with not much of a backbone to back up her bravado. She was still just a child and it had been a big mistake to date her.

He stopped under a light and waited for Jessie to catch up. She was out of breath, yet another sign that she needed a lot more training if she was going to be an effective hunter. He waited for her to get her wits about her.

"Don't tell me you're leaving," she said, at last.

"I'll be around to help out," he replied. "When I can."

"Humph," she snorted, crossing her arms and scowling. "Where have I heard that before?"

"Look, Jessie, I never meant to hurt you or lead you on," Ian said, after rolling his eyes. "God, I sound like a soap opera."

"Well, you wrote the script," Jessie shot back. "I guess I was just another notch on that gun belt, right?"

"Jessie, I like you. Really, I do. It's just that..."

"That you're getting better stuff from Aurelia Hernandez," Jessie assumed. "Sleeping with a snake, you're liable to get bit, Ian."

"It's not like that," Ian retorted.

"Yes, it is, Ian," Jessie snapped. "I'm not a little girl anymore. Haven't been for years. I know how it goes. Take care of yourself. You've always been good at that, since you are the only person you really care about."

Jessie stormed off before Ian could react. He watched her walk away and threw up his hands in disgust. He spun around, cursing under his breath, and continued up to the garage.

Ryker scanned the area with his night-vision goggles. No heat signatures, human, animal or vampire, disturbed the dense undergrowth running along Jacksboro Highway. Ryker put the goggles back into his backpack. He checked his pistol once more and then slid it into the shoulder holster under his jacket.

He was careful – for recklessness in this game meant death or worse. In this regard, he had learned well from some of the best at Moonrise, not to mention Marcus Van Niekerk and his fellow mercenaries. Though he was the only member of the Hunters who had not been personally affected by vampires before joining the war against Hominus Nocturna, he made himself a target almost from the start of his new profession.

He looked down the hill at the garage. The lights were on, always a good sign as Manuel was a stickler for conserving energy when his business was not in use. He checked his watch again, for the umpteenth time and cursed mildly. What was taking so long?

Finally, his earpiece beeped twice. It was the signal from Horace Garvey in the control room that Ryker could come in safely. The woods around the compound were bugged with miniatures cameras and sensors courtesy of Marcus's "don't-ask" connections. Ryker had to wait for the all-clear signal as his identity was confirmed.

He slung his backpack over his right shoulder and pushed his way out of the trees. Making his way down a barely seen, but well-trodden path, he was at the front doors of the garage in no time. He went in through the left door, which was open, and saw Ian Hendricks' truck. A moment later, he saw Ian.

"Hey, amigo, what's up?" he called out to Manuel, who was shutting the hood of the pickup truck. "Ian, where are you going?"

"Got things to do, no time to stick around and chat," Ian said, rather coldly, opening his truck door and climbing in.

"Say, you told your people not to throw my name around town, didn't you?" Ryker asked. "Tell them to build their reputations without me. I don't need the free publicity. I'm supposed to be dead, remember?"

"God, you are such a dick, Cantrell," Ian snapped.

"Wow, that was original," Ryker mocked. "Where are Jesus and the others? Already down below? Aren't they meeting to discuss the next move?"

Ryker was perplexed. He thought Ian Hendricks was full of crap when he claimed to be a big man around town, so he wondered why he was leaving now. The private detective was a key part of the group, their eyes and ears in the outside world. He had to be in on the decision on what to do with the information Ryker had given.

"We already met," Ian said, leaning his head out of his now-open driver's side window. "Start packing."

"What?" Ryker asked, now even more confused. "What do you mean start packing?"

Ian started the truck engine and Ryker suddenly couldn't hear anything. While he waved away the exhaust fumes, he watched Ian shoot out of the garage, veer left to reverse direction and head for the closed front gate. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Manuel reaching over to push a button on the wall next to the office door. The gate opened and, soon, Ian was out of sight and both the front gate and the garage door were closing.

"Yeah, nice talking to you, too," Ryker snorted. "Tell your sister thanks for last night, you stupid inbred redneck."

Manuel frowned at the insensitive remark.

"What did he mean by start packing?" Ryker asked, turning to look at the mechanic, who suddenly had a guilty look on his face.

"It was Dolores' and Jesus' decision," the mechanic said, avoiding Ryker's stern gaze. "We're pulling out. As soon as we can pack up and shut this place down."

Ryker was flabbergasted. For once, he was absolutely speechless. Maybe he'd heard it wrong. He always did have trouble catching Manuel's mangled English.

"Pulling out?" he asked, incredulous. "You mean, like pulling up stakes and scattering into the wind?"

"Don't shoot the messenger, amigo," Manuel retorted. "But, si, that is what Jesus said. We are going to lie low, at least until all those clan masters leave town."

Ryker was beside himself.

"What the hell?" he scowled. "We've got them right where we want them. Where the hell is Jesus? Maybe I can talk some sense into him."

"I think we both know how that's going to end, amigo," Manuel said.

Ryker knew and it pissed him off to no end. But, what else could he expect from people who played at war and tilted at windmills? What a bunch of gutless bastards, he thought.

"Son of a bitch!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

He took off his backpack and chucked it across the garage. He didn't care if he smashed the expensive goggles within. He kicked out and toppled a stack of oil bottles, much to the chagrin of Manuel who, nevertheless, declined not to act for fear of being Ryker's next target.

"Are we finished with our little temper tantrum?"

Ryker spun around, seeing Angelica and Marcus standing in the doorway of the office. He wasn't surprised. He knew a warning was always sent out whenever he arrived at the garage. He rubbed people the wrong way, but screw it. He hadn't survived this long by pussyfooting around or sugarcoating anything.

"Did you agree with this decision, Marcus?" he asked, accusingly. "I know you did, Angelica, because that's just how you are."

Angelica reddened in anger. "What did you say to me? Listen, vendejo, I seconded the motion to bring you in. Now, you have the nerve to fu–"

"Please, Angelica," Marcus cut in, raising his hand in front of her face. "Don't stoop to his level. And, for your information, Cantrell, I did not agree. But I will abide by the decision."

"In the interest of team unity and esprit de corps," Angelica added. "Something you should try for a change, Cantrell."

Ryker frowned.

"Come on, Marcus," he cajoled. "You, of all people, should be on my side. Or least, able to see things from my viewpoint. We might never get another chance like this. Sixteen – count 'em, sixteen clan masters in one place. We can't let a golden opportunity like this slip away."

"Doesn't matter, my friend," Marcus shot back. "The decision has been made and we will all abide by it. Cantrell, we asked you into this group because we needed you. We need your expertise, but we need to know if you can stick with us, even when things don't go your way. Can we count on you?"

Ryker said nothing. He turned away and walked up to one of the windows on the garage door. Looking out through the dirty glass, he saw the traffic on Jacksboro Highway whizzing by. All those innocent people, he thought.

He abruptly moved to his right, aiming for a red button on the wall that would make the door lift.

"I can't let you do that, Cantrell," Marcus blurted.

"Oh, so I don't like a decision – I'm an ungrateful jackass," Ryker sniped, without turning to look back. "But, if you don't like a decision, it's okay? You know what, Marcus? I'd tell you to fuck yourself, but you've got Angelica for that."

"Why, you ungrateful piece of crap," Angelica snapped.

"Now, now, Angelica, I'm sure that's just the steroids talking," Ryker said, mockingly, as he went back to trying to open the garage door. "You guys can keep my stuff. I'd rather leave it than spend another minute with a bunch of cowards."

"That is enough!"

Marcus' words boomed throughout the garage. Ryker stopped reaching for the red button, instead, let his hand drop. He was no fool and his hearing was still as good as ever. He mentally sifted out Marcus' booming voice and keyed on a sound so slight anyone without his experience would easily have missed it.

"You'd better pull that freakin' trigger now, Marcus," Ryker snorted, after taking a deep breath. "If it's come to that, this group is completely finished."

No sound came. Turning around slowly, Ryker saw Marcus pointing a large ominous black revolver right at his head. He recognized it as a .454 Casull, normally a hunting pistol. The bullet wouldn't even leave enough of his head for identification.

"Always the mercenary, eh, Marcus?" Ryker said rather calmly. "Nothing or nobody interferes with the mission. Not even a colleague. I guess the vampires win. Again."

Next to Marcus, Angelica was freaking out, unsure of what to say or do. Behind Marcus, Manuel had the phone receiver in hand, no doubt calling everybody up to the garage. Soon, a half dozen, or so, guns might be pointed at heads in this Mexican standoff.

If that were to be the case, he wouldn't go down alone. When he'd turned, he'd snuck his right hand up inside his jacket and onto the Czech Skorpion submachine pistol in his other shoulder holster. He'd already decided that his regular nine-millimeter Browning was too small to compete with a .454. He pointed the Skorpion right at Marcus, knowing if he fired, the spray pattern would undoubtedly take out Angelica and Manuel as well.

For what seemed like an eternity, but was actually just a minute, the two men stood opposite one another, perhaps seconds away from tragedy. Neither was willing to so much as blink. Next to Marcus, Angelica was frozen with fear. Nothing in her days as a bodyguard ever prepped her for such a situation.

"You bloody, conceited, arrogant bastard," Marcus finally said, after a bead of sweat rolled off his forehead and into his eyes. "I will not let you jeopardize this mission, put the gun down – right fucking now!"

"Make me!"

A different sound suddenly entered the garage and Angelica stepped forward, even as a look of utter fear spread across her face.

"No, don't!"

A loud boom echoed through the garage and out into the once silent night.

Chapter 10

Jesus wished he were ten years younger. Then, he would have been at the front of the group rushing toward the garage in answer to Manuel's frantic call. From what he could make of Manuel's hurried mix of Spanish and English, people were pointing guns at each other in the garage. He could only think Ian Hendricks, who had been in a foul mood when he'd left the meeting. At least, he hoped it was Ian; the alternative was that Riordan's people had found their hideout.

With Dolores watching Kelly and Heidi, Jesus had a rapid reaction force (so to speak) of Wesley, Horace and Jessie. All three of them were close to leaving him in the dust as they approached the stairs to the office. Fortunately, they had to stop at the top to activate the secret door panel. Jesus caught up and, though breathing heavy, forcing Horace and Jessie to get behind him.

"Michael, talk to me," he ordered through his headset. "What's the situation?"

"Can't tell," Lee replied. "I think Manuel took down the interior cameras already."

Jesus cursed under his breath. Manuel could never prioritize anything and must have started moving the cameras as they were the easiest task. It looked as if he was going to have to do things the old-fashioned way.

Letting Wesley take the lead, he moved into the office. Wesley had stopped at the doorway. Then, as if on some mental cue, Wesley, crouching, moved out into the garage, through the bay once occupied by Ian's truck and took up a firing position by a metal tool cabinet. Jesus moved through the door, brought up his semiautomatic pistol and scanned toward the garage door.

WTF?

He spotted Marcus pointing his infamous .454 Casull and Angelica Morales next to him, looking beside herself. Looking past the mercenary, he saw that gun pointed not at Ian, but at someone pointing a submachine back. When he saw the man – he only saw red.

Ryker!

It was then Angelica peered over her shoulder and did something he did not expect. She moved into his line of fire. He tried moving out further into the garage to get a new firing position, while Horace took his old spot. He saw Jessie behind Horace and she looked like she wanted to puke. She had a death grip on her .50-caliber Desert Eagle (a gun totally disproportionate to her size but not her ego).

"No! Don't!" Angelica cried out.

Boom!

The only thing stopping Jesus from shooting Ryker at that particular moment was, the fact that, the sound came from behind him. He and Wesley both looked back to see Manuel standing next to a toolbox that lay on its side on the floor. Manuel himself had a look on his face that was both embarrassed and frightened.

Jesus looked at Jessie in the doorway and saw her fiddling with her gun. Cristo, he thought. She had gone into action with the safety still on! Just as quickly, he believed it might have been a good thing. As nervous as she was, she could have blown off her own foot.

"Marcus, what the hell's going on?" Jesus called out.

"Why are you asking him?" Ryker interjected. "He's the one who pulled on me."

"Had no choice, Jesus," Marcus answered. "He was going to leave. I couldn't take the chance."

Jesus didn't need this, not now. He had a compound to pack up. He had safehouses to reactivate. He had no time for stupidity.

"Okay, guys, first things first," he said, slowly. "I am going to lower my gun. When it is on the floor, Marcus, I need you and Ryker to put yours down, too. Okay?"

"Oh, to hell with this," Ryker blurted. "I'm not giving you guys any more excuses to shoot me."

Abruptly, Ryker pulled his gun back and aimed it at the ceiling. Engaging the safety, he calmly dropped it down by his side. When Marcus and Wesley relaxed their weapons, he crouched, set his Skorpion down and then kicked it away.

Jesus breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Okay, now that cooler heads have prevailed, anyone care to elaborate on what the hell started this?" he asked.

"You and Dolores were right, Jesus," Angelica said, as she slumped against the nearest wall and wiped sweat from her brow. "This vendejo is loco. I guess, maybe, I didn't want to admit that I had made a mistake backing his membership."

Ryker looked daggers at her. "After everything I've done for you guys, this is my reward?"

Jesus felt sick. He had override authority. He could have nullified the vote and kept Ryker and his volatile personality out of the group. He could have explained it to Dolores well enough for her to accept it. But, in the interest of team unity, he hadn't.

"Start from the beginning, Marcus," he said, wearily.

Marcus looked at his boss; it was obvious he was still steamed. He had to take a moment to compose himself, and even had to hand his gun to Angelica, lest he do something stupid.

"I'm sorry, Jesus," Marcus said. "It shouldn't have come to this, but I could see Cantrell was losing it. He found out from Ian that we were pulling out and flipped. Threw his backpack somewhere, kicked over the pile of oil cans. Totally disrespected Angelica. Just lost it."

"Why, Cantrell?" Jesus demanded. "What is it this time? Why is it always something with you?! Do we need to give you a drug test or something?"

Ryker fumed. His eyes darted about the room, as if he were seeing ghosts. Finally, he just threw up his hands, stifled himself and walked to the other side of the garage.

"Okay, so I lost it for a moment," he snapped. "That doesn't give you the right to put a gun to my head."

"He was so agitated, Jesus, I felt I had to stop him," Marcus blurted. "He wants to go after the clan masters. I've been in some lopsided battles in my time, but it's pure suicide. Even worse, it could lead right back to us and get all of us killed. I had to keep him from leaving."

"Ryker doesn't see reason, Marcus," Wesley butted in. "We've been trying to tell you that all along. If it's not his way, it's no one's. This is probably what happened at Moonrise."

"Screw you!" Ryker practically screamed. "At least they weren't a bunch of cowards!"

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Wesley had holstered his gun because he didn't need it. He charged Ryker like an angry bull. Horace and Marcus went after him, but he was too fast.

It said something to Ryker's experience, he stood still right up to the point of impact. Then, in a blur, he hooked, spun and flipped Wesley over on to the floor. Unfortunately for Ryker, Wesley was far too strong and back on his feet in no time flat. Ryker couldn't avoid him. Hefted off his feet in Wesley's crushing bear hug, he was slammed down through a stack of boxed pistons.

"Get up!" Wesley roared. "Get up and repeat what you just said, man! Get up so I can kick your sorry ass!"

Ryker kicked Wesley in his crotch instead. When Wesley doubled over and staggered back, Ryker rolled to his left and got back on his feet, stumbling a little as he grimaced from unseen bruises. Then, Angelica was on him in a flash, while Horace and Marcus went to help Wesley.

"That's it, Cantrell!" Jesus roared. "You just attacked another team member! I guess you're going to call that self-defense, too!"

"He attacked me," Ryker corrected. "Are you guys freakin' blind?"

"You provoked it, muchacho," a seething Jesus spat. "I don't know why I'm even explaining myself to you."

"Maybe because you know I'm right," Ryker suggested.

That was the wrong thing at the wrong moment. Jesus looked at Ryker and then threw up his hands. He turned away from the man.

"Fuck you!" he snorted. "You're out! Get your things and leave!"

"Belay that order!"

Everyone looked toward a very angry Dolores stomping out of the office, Kelly and Heidi meekly in tow.

"Dolores, I'm sorry, but he's gone much too far this time," Jesus countered.

"No," Dolores said. "He is not leaving here. Not until we find out what is wrong with him."

She looked right at Ryker.

"And for your sake, you'd better be straight with us," she said, sternly. "Or I will personally kill you myself."

Aurelia Hernandez had just finished putting her kids to bed. Normally, they'd have been in bed much earlier, but she had interrupted family game night to go talk to Ian Hendricks. She knew he was holding back on her, yet she wasn't sure why. She certainly paid him well enough for his services.

She retired to her bedroom where she hooked up her laptop computer on the dresser. She had a more powerful computer in her office downstairs, but that did not afford her any privacy. Now, she was in her closet, going through her personal safe. The floor of the closet was strewn with papers of every color and size.

She sat back, unfolding a packet of papers. It was the deed to her house, marked "paid in full." She should have been smiling. She had the house of her dreams, the one she'd desperately needed in order to raise her sister's children. However, that dream had long since become a nightmare.

"You fool," she whispered. "What did you think you were doing?"

She wished to God she never accepted that money to clear up her late mortgage payments and her back taxes. That led to her doing favors for people in league with Louis Riordan, favors that introduced her to the frightening world of vampires. It was too late to turn back, though. Any move to abandon Riordan and she would join the ranks of the undead. Even worse, Riordan himself had made it perfectly clear that, once she became a vampire, her first victims would be the children.

She folded the packet again, stuffed it into a manila envelope and tossed it back into the safe. She grabbed the other papers and unceremoniously shoved them in as well. After closing the safe door, she got to her feet, turned off the light and padded across the bedroom floor to her dresser.

There, she took a seat in a metal folding chair, typed her password into the computer and perused a few files. The most important of them was the one holding her current case files.

She had long since put Heidi Nguyen on the back burner. No trace of the woman had been found and that relegated the case to just another missing person. Even the ashing of Kane was out of her hands. She had the more important task of finding Duke's assassins before Lin Tang ripped the town apart.

Making matters worse, she'd been ordered – ordered – by Riordan to find Duke's killer. It was downright humiliating. It wasn't even in her jurisdiction, but that mattered little. To the vampires, she was little more than a lap dog.

She blew a lock of her brunette hair out of her eyes as she pondered the facts that Ian Hendricks had gleaned for her. The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms was crawling all over the case because of the high-powered weapons used in the attack. The Texas Department of Public Safety, as well as the Texas Rangers and the local sheriff also had hands deep into the situation. Yet, she, an outsider, was supposed to match up to the big boys and demand a place in the investigation.

The guns used in the attack were military-grade sniper quality. The attack was classic military. One sniper from the front and another from an angle not just to the rear, but, out of the crossfire. She knew Duke's car had been modified with extra armor and, yet, the bullets had punched through it to detonate the drug chemicals in the trunk.

There couldn't be many people in the state who not only had military training but military-grade equipment. She thought maybe the federal government itself was responsible for the attack, but neither Ian nor Travis Pratt had found any such link. That still left former military members, most likely snipers or Special Forces. It was possible they could have been mercenaries working for one of the Mexican drug cartels.

"Come on, girl," she chastised herself. "You have got to come up with something better than that. Duke and his idiot cousin were in business for themselves. You don't send in a professional hit squad for low-level thugs. That's overkill. A waste of time and money."

That's when it dawned on her. Why hadn't she seen it before? Kane's ashing. Porter Coleman's apprehension upon hearing Ryker's name. Duke's assassination. It all fit.

"So, Riordan's got enemies," she mused.

Aurelia was used to Riordan running a tight ship. The man did not suffer fools gladly. Between threats and outright graft, he had the entirety of Tarrant County in his vest pocket. She was sure that his reputation carried well beyond the limits of both the Metroplex and Texas. She could not imagine any rival vampire clans challenging him.

No, there was only one logical explanation. There were hunters in town. She didn't know much about them other than they were the bane of vampires everywhere. That much she read when she found the need to find out about her new bosses.

From what little she'd learned, most hunters were either loners or of rather suspect mental capacity. Some had deep connections to the Catholic Church while others hunted vampires for revenge. They tended to be amateurs. However, if hunters had taken down Kane and Duke, they certainly weren't loners or amateurs by any stretch.

She wondered if she might be able to use them, possibly as a hedge against Riordan. That meant finding a way to get in touch with them. Of course, she told herself, if they were easy to find, Riordan wouldn't be on her ass to bring them down.

Another thought struck her and, this time, it wasn't good. She wondered what these hunters might do to her. If they were willing to take out Lin Tang's right-hand man and challenge Riordan on his own turf, what would they do with a cop on the take from the head man himself?

She shivered just as her cell phone buzzed. She reached over to her purse that lay on her bed, opened it, grabbed her phone and checked the number. She sighed heavily and answered.

"Lieutenant, do you know what time it is?" she snapped. "Wait a minute...let me get something to write with...oh, I see. When was she brought in? Whoa, who did she say attacked her? I'll be at the hospital as soon as I can."

She cut off the call and snapped the phone shut. Cursing under her breath, she scrambled to find her running shoes. Grabbing her purse, she headed out.

"Isn't that redundant?" Ryker asked. "Personally kill you myself isn't good grammar, Dolores."

"It's time to stop being a smart ass, Cantrell," Dolores answered, her arms crossed. "It's time to grow up. I can't understand it. We've got sixteen clan masters in town. Yet, the biggest threat to us is you."

Ryker said nothing.

"We have got to pull out and wait for those masters to leave, but if we leave you here or let you roam free, you're going to do something totally stupid," Dolores continued. "I know it – you're going to get yourself killed or worse. Then, you might compromise all of us. Tell me why I shouldn't have you sedated and dragged away with us?"

"Go ahead, do what you want," Ryker snorted. "Nobody listens to me anyway."

"Because you're a nut job, Ryker," Wesley grunted, still bent over and walking very gingerly. "Why are we discussing this anyway?"

"Wesley, shut up," Dolores said, curtly. "No, Cantrell. That is not good enough. You don't follow orders. You bring home strays as guinea pigs for Patel. You're insubordinate. You pulled a gun and threatened Marcus, Angelica and Manuel. And what the hell did you say to Heidi after giving her that steak? She hates your guts."

"Oh, great, don't tell me she's vegetarian?" Ryker joked, though no one laughed.

"Humor is not going to get you out of this one, Cantrell," Dolores remarked, coolly. "Is this what you were like with Moonrise?"

"Ah, now, we come to it," Ryker snorted.

He pulled away from Angelica, slapping away her hands when she tried to grab him again. He backed up a few feet until he hit one of the shuttered windows.

"They died, I lived, get over it," he said, coldly. "Oh, I forgot. It's never simple with me, is it? Okay. Tell me what a piece of crap I am because I'm here and they're not. You want the truth? They didn't listen to me and look what happened to them."

"Then, isn't it swell that we've got the great Cantrell Ryker to protect us," Wesley mocked. "If we listen to you, we'll all come out okay, is that it? Maybe we should vote you in as leader? Think that would work, Horace? How about you, Jessie?"

"I think we need calmer heads right now, Wes," Horace replied.

Jessie started to say something, but stopped when Horace looked at her and shook his head. She bit her lip and turned away.

"We're wasting our time, Dolores," Jesus huffed. "Jessie, go get Dr. Patel. Horace, you and Manuel watch Ryker. The rest of you, continue preparations to leave. Dolores, uno momento, por favor."

"No!"

Jesus had turned and now he spun back around to see Ryker charge him. Fortunately, Angelica caught him by his collar before he made contact. Still, Horace had to disengage from Wesley to help her.

"No!" Ryker screamed. "No more! Do you hear me? No. More. Running!"

Jesus was shocked by the outburst, but Dolores did not seem surprised. She put a tender hand on her husband shoulder and eased him back. Then, she took his place in front of Ryker.

"We are not running, Cantrell," she said, simply.

"Yes, you are!" Ryker shot back. "Do you really think that sixteen clan masters just dropped in on Riordan for a holiday? No, they are in town to talk business. What do you think would happen if sixteen Mafia families got together in one place? Huh? Don't you think the feds would be all over it?"

"How do you know this, Cantrell?" Dolores queried. "Inside information? Something even Ian doesn't know about?"

Ryker stopped struggling and let Angelica and Horace pull him back a few feet.

"I know because I've seen it," he answered after composing himself. "For three years, I watched it happen. For three years, while I ran. Remained dead to the world, hoping none of the coven's allies would catch on that I was still alive. I slept in barns, in drainage pipes. I lived among the homeless, even as I killed the ones who turned. I hunted and was hunted, by vampires and humans.

"I saw the smaller clans attach themselves to bigger clans to survive. I saw the big clans recruit to increase their power base. I was running into Riordan's people long before you ever thought to."

Ryker sagged against the window and ran a hand through his hair.

"Before Fort Worth, Riordan was running from a failed clan in Canada," he continued. "But, he fled to Fort Worth. Consolidated power in no time flat, right under our noses. Because, we were too busy fighting amongst ourselves to see the signs right in front of our eyes.

"I tried to form alliances when I could, but, inevitably, we came up against a large clan and my so-called allies would run. Now look at us. Fighting a clan in control of an entire city when we could have taken Riordan out years ago. Do you know how that feels? To have failed and have to sit back and watch all those innocent people get killed, corrupted or converted because of it?"

"Yes, Cantrell, we do," Dolores said, with sympathy.

Ryker looked up at Dolores and glared.

"No," he said, sharply. "No, you don't. Otherwise, you wouldn't be running. And it's not just you. It's everyone. Gangs virtually control whatever the vampires don't. We've practically written off two entire generations to drugs. Morality is disappearing almost as fast as loyalty. Everywhere you turn, people have abdicated their responsibilities and duties and, as a result, evil has moved in and thrived.

"But, there's nowhere to run anymore. That's why I came in from the cold. I had to start making a bigger difference. I couldn't stay in the shadows anymore and neither can we. We need to make a stand. We need to take back our society. Every day we don't is another day the enemy wins."

Dolores closed her eyes and absorbed what she'd just heard. Could it have been true, she wondered. Were her Hunters running away from their responsibilities by settling for easier target?

"You know what, Cantrell?" she finally said. "I'm going to agree with you. On some of what you said, okay? I can see some of your points, but you can't let it destroy you. Don't you remember the old saying 'he who fights and runs away lives to fight another day?'"

Ryker dug his hands into his pockets and began to pace back and forth.

"Okay, Dolores, tell me this then," he said. "What's the plan? For us."

"Pack up and move to the safehouses," she said, nonchalantly.

"All of us together in one safehouse?"

"Well, no," Dolores answered, looking confused. "Of course not. Too conspicuous to the locals. We stay at different houses. Keep in constant communication. Then, we can meet at neutral sites for training. Like we did before we came to Fort Worth to try to get Lin Tang."

"Those clan masters aren't doing it," Ryker riposted. "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. There have been rumors for years about the clans getting together to form a super alliance. It never happened before because the clan masters let their egos get in the way. However, this time, it's different. We've got sixteen clan masters in town at the same time. They've put aside their differences to do that, so who knows just how far they'll take the initiative.

"If they do form some kind of alliance, then we're screwed. All the smaller independents will eventually join up or be swallowed up. We'll fall further and further behind. Imagine if Lin Tang were to suddenly start training security details from these clans?"

Horace whistled low when the realization hit him.

"We wouldn't stand a chance," he deduced.

"No, we wouldn't," Ryker concurred. "Hell, I'd be surprised if we could even sneak back into town once we leave. Who knows how many eyes would be on us?"

Jesus let out a huge breath of air, ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and turned away. Kelly and Heidi stared at him, looking for answers. He could sympathize as he was just as confused as they were. He turned back to look at his wife.

"All of this is just talk, Dolores," he finally said. "We don't know why these clans are in town. There's too much at stake to go on half-assed guesses and theories."

"Fine, whatever," Ryker replied, with disgust. "Just go on and leave then. And, don't worry. I'll wait 'til you're all gone before I go off the deep end. I guess I owe you all that much."

"And that's still not good enough, Cantrell," Marcus chimed in.

"Well, what the hell would you have me do then?" Ryker demanded.

Jesus started to answer, but stopped when Dolores looked at him. She had that curious look in her eye again. He'd seen it too many times before to know she had something unusual up her sleeve.

"No, Cantrell," she started. "I think the question is what would you have us do?"

Ian Hendricks couldn't believe the evening he was having. It was bad enough learning that his primary meal ticket was pulling up stakes and leaving. Now, he had to go to the county hospital to meet Aurelia Hernandez for reasons unexplained.

He pulled into the parking lot, found a space not too far from the emergency room entrance and went inside. As expected, the place was full. Crying children, anxious mothers, drunken frat boys who had learned the hard way that alcohol and stunts didn't mix, the homeless and indigent, everyone normally seen in a county hospital ER.

He eased his way through the crowd to the check-in desk. He saw Aurelia and waved to her. She disengaged herself from two police officers and came over.

"What the hell is so important that I had to cancel a date?" Ian lied.

"You are, Ian," Aurelia snorted. "You're not doing the job I'm paying you for."

"What?"

"One of the girls who was in Duke's car is in surgery," Aurelia explained. "Somebody worked her over pretty good."

Ian furled his eyebrows.

"I didn't know that," he said. "I talked to both women and they lied through their teeth. Said they were hitchhiking when Duke and his cousin picked them up. I checked them out and they had links to Duke's cousin. I could see them, maybe, being attacked by the thugs who killed Duke, but why leave them alive?"

"I don't know," Aurelia answered, sounding frustrated. "All I know is I've gotten virtually nothing useful out of you in the past week. You say you know this town front and back. You can go places I can't. Yet, you have no leads on Heidi Nguyen, you don't have a clue who ashed that vampire under the bridge. You can't tell me anything about Duke except to say the two women with him lied."

Ian frowned. He had messed up. He spent too much time helping the Hunters and not enough time placating Aurelia. With Jesus and Dolores blowing town, he had to reinvigorate his relationship with his only source of income.

"Do you want a refund?" he asked, trying to make light of the situation.

Aurelia slipped and let a thin smile break out across her face.

"I'll take a rain check," she quipped. "Actually, the real reason I asked you here is because I need a big favor."

"Anything for you," Ian commented, making Aurelia blush.

"We have a witness to the beating," Aurelia said. "I need to keep it low-key since it involves Duke and our secret world of vampires. Can you stash her with one of your contacts for awhile? At least until we catch the guy who did the beating so she could identify him or her?"

"Uhm, yeah, I guess I could," Ian said. "Who is she?"

Aurelia looked over her shoulder and motioned to a woman sitting in a chair in the waiting room. Ian did a double-take when he saw her. She was gorgeous. And there was something oddly familiar about her.

"May I introduce you to Ian Hendricks," Aurelia said, with a look of jealousy when she saw how Ian eyed the woman. "Ian, may I introduce you to Diane Simmons."

"Pleased to meet you, Diane," Ian said, with a big smile and a proffered hand.

"Oh, I'm sure the pleasure will be all mine," Diane replied, coyly. "I have a feeling we are going to get to know each other very well."

Chapter 11

Diane Simmons felt lucky. None of the men she was previously assigned to seduce had ever looked as delicious as Ian Hendricks. And as an added bonus, she could tell by the look in Aurelia Hernandez's eyes that the detective desired Ian, so it was fun to think she had stolen Ian away from the competition. Even better for her (and worse for the detective), there was no choice in the matter.

Ian could not know Aurelia had been forced to lie to him about the real reason for the trip to the hospital. It was really to set the trap. Lin Tang had already deduced what the detective couldn't – Ian Hendricks knew far more than he let on about the people responsible for not only Duke's death but Kane's as well. Of course, Lin had the ability to read body language more thoroughly than Aurelia, and, after viewing some surveillance tapes of meetings between the detective and Ian, had figured out that Hendricks had been holding back.

Perhaps it was for more money. Maybe not. That was for Diane to coax out of Ian.

As for Aurelia Hernandez, Diane expected no trouble. The detective had to cooperate; if not to continue getting her bribes but to avoid being exposed to the police department's Internal Affairs division. Lin Tang's "ambush" in the hospital parking lot, where she had her fangs at the detective's throat to gain her cooperation did not hurt either.

Now, at one of Ian's safehouses, Diane studied him and found him to be very engaging, with a forceful personality that had ignited her own passions quite easily. She wasn't naïve, though. She knew he checked her background. He had to know she was one of Lin Tang's half-deads or at least suspected it. That he hadn't kicked her out of the house, said he had his own motives for staying with her.

"I normally do this in the dark, you know," she said, coyly.

The early morning sun was already peeking through the blinds of the master bedroom. It had taken more time than she was used to in order to sweet talk her way past his skittishness. He'd seemed apprehensive, at times, downright hostile, but, fortunately, that anger was directed at someone else. Maybe, she hoped, it would be at the people her master was seeking and she could get him to give them up.

"That's okay," Ian replied, his arms behind his head. "I like to see what I'm getting."

Diane tossed her bra aside and seductively stepped out of her shorts. Ian, already undressed, pulled her back on the bed. She laughed and spread her legs to receive him. Instead, he surprised her by crawling between her legs and settling down to send her into another dimension of ecstasy. She gasped and felt an intense wave of pleasure rip through her body almost immediately.

"W-whoa, I wasn't expecting that," she said, out of breath. "Okay, you've made your point. You don't have to continue."

"Okay," was all he said before diving back in.

Diane had never had a man or woman who took so much time to please her. She lay back, enjoying the fantastic sensations rippling through her body. Orgasms made her back arch almost to the point of breaking.

There was no question that she'd take him to bed. That was her forte. He wanted to know her secrets, but she was a master of turning the tables and eliciting others' secrets instead.

Finally, he finished his oral ministration and she pouted. She was so used to faking her pleasure with her targets she didn't know how good sex could really feel. After he pulled her on top and let her ease herself down onto him, she felt even better. She wasn't used to being in control during sex.

Hours later, she fretted. Ian was dressed and she was alone in bed, covered by a thin silk sheet. He had to leave, of course. They all do, she told herself. That was okay. He'd be back and she could finagle the information Lin Tang wanted out of him.

"Don't keep me waiting too long," she said as he left the room. "I definitely want to learn a lot more about you."

"And I want to learn all about you," Ian replied, with a wink. "I don't know who's been pushing your buttons, but you really need to learn to open up."

Diane sat up, clutching the sheet to her bosom and watched as he opened the front door to let the relief guard, a rather stout woman, inside. She'd been with women before, but she wanted no part of this one. Rolling out of bed, she headed for the bathroom

"Score another one for me," she laughed to herself as she stepped into the shower.

Louis Riordan looked at the clan masters ringing the large oval oaken table in his main conference room. Each looked none the worse for wear after the previous evening's soiree and eager to get the alliance meeting started. He liked that. His hard work had paid off so far.

"My friends," he began. "Once, long ago, all vampires in the world were governed by the Supreme Council which is, as you know, based in Budapest. While they were good at controlling vampire affairs in the Old World, they left the New World to the whims of lesser lieutenants. In response, we in North America began forming clans. By the 20th century, we began to use the Mafia as a model, especially in the years during Prohibition. However, we were not efficient. We let pettiness and jealousy get in the way of proper relations between us."

"I think we all know this, Riordan-san," Matsutaka interjected. "Why must we rehash it?"

"For emphasis, my dear," Riordan answered. "The Supreme Council, through its various agents, both vampire and human, used those rifts to keep us from uniting. They still hope to regain their power base in North America, even as they see their European and African bases eroding under the threat from Asia. And they can do it, too, if they begin to round up the various rogue clans."

He paused to let the information sink in. Every clan master present had problems with unaffiliated clans running around, interfering in their operations. For too long, though, those rogues had been ignored because they were deemed too small to bother with.

"I'll give you an example right here in Texas," Riordan continued. "My clan is the largest in the Southwest. Yet, there are smaller clans in the other large cities – Dallas, Austin, San Antonio, Corpus Christi, Amarillo, El Paso to name a few. They are all wary of joining our stronger organizations for fear of being swallowed up. Monsieur Lucabaugh from Houston can attest to this."

Lucabaugh nodded.

"And you think that presenting these holdouts with an even more powerful alliance, will allay those fears?" Giancarlo asked, with a smirk. "I would think that they would be even more intimidated."

"That is most certainly true," Riordan replied, succinctly. "However, it is then a question of power and inevitability. Once the largest clans are united, the smaller ones must make a decision. Do they join with the alliance? Do they side with the Supreme Council, which is too far away to protect them? Or do they remain rogues, fighting for the scraps?"

Riordan did not wait for any replies. Instead, he walked over to the closest wall and pushed a button to activate the intercom. He said something and stepped away.

A moment later, the door to the room opened and Riordan's secretary Allison walked in with an armful of thick packets, akin to prospectuses. She distributed one to each clan member, nodded to her boss and left, closing the door behind her.

Riordan turned away from the group and peered out the heavily-tinted windows at the Fort Worth skyline. It was fully bright now as the rush hour commuter traffic had finally ceased. Outside of his building, an unsuspecting world carried on with its business, mostly oblivious to the power plays that would affect their lives down to their very blood. If he played his cards right, he would be watching this unsuspecting world from a more powerful vantage point as head of the new alliance.

"Have we had a chance to glance at the particulars of the alliance?" he asked after a while, glancing over his shoulder.

Jewel Waterston flipped through a few pages before dropping the packet on the table. Clearly, She was not pleased.

"It seems like you're aiming to lead all of us," she said, huffily. "Or am I misreading this?"

"No, you are not," Riordan answered. "But, you are getting a little ahead of yourself. We all know that this alliance is a done deal. This meeting is to work out the particulars. We all submitted our questions about the alliance; the prospectus is the culmination of the compromises we have made. We ultimately must see if those problems and questions have been sufficiently answered."

"You still haven't answered my question, Louis," Waterston retorted. "Do you intend to lead this alliance?"

"I will put my name into the ring," Riordan replied, perturbed at Waterston's insistence. "As, I suspect, you will."

"You might be disappointed, my dear Jewel," Ringgold chimed in. "You don't have the edge our dear Riordan has, namely a ninja enforcer named Lin Tang."

"I object to that, Edge," Matsutaka snorted. "Ninjas are Japanese, not Chinese. So are samurai, in case you were thinking of stealing that moniker, too."

"Okay, master swordsman then," Ringgold relented. "Or swordswoman, to be PC. Whatever. Riordan's got one, we don't. As long as she's the enforcer, que sera sera."

"By the way, where is our nimble little minx?" Lucabaugh asked, with a lascivious grin.

"Out finding Duke's killer?" Aguelo Munoz remarked, sarcastically. "How's that going, by the way? While we're at it, did you ever find who ashed that bastard Kane?"

Riordan looked daggers at the clan masters. The men was challenging him in front of the others, when they could just as easily done so last night – in private. Perhaps it was another test of leadership.

"That is an internal matter," he said, brusquely. "Am I to deduce none of you have unsolved murders of vampires in your respective areas?"

"Yes, we have," Elizabeth Lupo said, brusquely. "But, I'm sure we didn't send an enforcer to wipe out a fellow clan master. However, I digress, as I am sure that Kuster's demise was meant as a warning to the rest of us."

Ringgold got to his feet and put his hands up like a referee. "Enough. I think we all get the point. What's done is done. Kuster was a leech and I know none of us really care that he's gone."

Riordan saw Giancarlo roll his eyes. Apparently, the man had heard enough of the bickering and loudly set his now empty glass of port on the table. That got everyone's attention.

"This is exactly the kind of bickering that stopped us from uniting before," he stated. "Let us agree, we are better off without Abel Kuster and his ilk. And let us agree, we all have unsolved killings in our territories. Riordan should be free to handle his own business. That's fair, isn't it?"

"No, I don't think so at all," Elisa Fusco blurted out, drawing a harsh glare from Giancarlo. "It goes to the heart of this alliance. I may just be representing my family in this matter but I'm not naïve. Duke's killing suggests some unsettling things. Since the act was done in broad daylight, that eliminates direct vampire involvement. But, it doesn't exonerate us. You could have rivals who hired familiars or other humans to do the deed."

"Or there could be humans with a completely different agenda," Alberto Lupo added. "In Mexico, we have come across some former cartel enforcers who had loved ones turned by our kind. Those enforcers then became hunters."

Riordan kept his cool at the mention of hunters. He hadn't told any of them of the rumors of potential allies of the late Cantrell Ryker, possibly being in the area. He certainly didn't want unfounded rumors added to his already full plate. He tasked Lin Tang with putting the rumors to rest and she always came through for him, at least since she returned from training with Lo Chang. However, he hadn't heard anything recently from her and could feel the gray trying to creep back into his hair.

"All the more reason to put aside our squabbling and agree on a compromise," Riordan lied. "I have recent information that the Supreme Council has been talking to outsiders."

"That is not new, Louis," an indignant Giancarlo shot back. "The council has the equivalent of a consulate in most of our territories. It helps to prevent any, shall we say, differences of opinion that might become real problems if not tackled early."

"But, what if those same Council representatives have been seen talking to members of unaffiliated clans?" Riordan offered. "That would be a violation of our agreements of non-interference."

Munoz nearly spit out the Bloody Mary he had been sipping.

"What are you proposing, Louis?" he asked as he wiped the mess off his tie. "We cement our new alliance with a war against the Supreme Council?"

"Yeah, let's not forget the Council has enforcers with centuries of experience," Nelly O'Roarke said. "Let's all think clearly before we do something that could have long-term repercussions."

Nyrobi Kenya stood up and looked crossly at her fellow clan masters.

"And let's all remember this alliance was meant to strengthen us against the Council's machinations," she stated. "How about we all put the fear away and start acting like clan masters? And, as for you, Louis, what are you planning to do about both the Council and whoever killed Duke and Kane, if they're not related?"

"My friends, I can assure you I have things under control," Riordan replied, as he paced back and forth across the room. "Pardon my hostility at being taken to task in my own territory. However, plans are in motion to flush out the people responsible for Duke and Kane. And, as for the Council, that plan is in the back of your prospectus. Page twenty, I believe."

He waited for everyone to get to that section.

"Special enforcers?" Alexia Ciccione queried, with a very puzzled look.

Riordan nodded. He touched his wall screen and it came to life. The screen showed various clips of military Special Operations units in training, mixed in with combat videos. Some of the clips showed actual members of the clans' security units doing their things. The montage ended by showing a black-clad Lin Tang going through her sword practice.

"Lin Tang has made amazing strides in the time since she got back from training with Lo Chang," Riordan stated. "Before his untimely demise at the hands of Moonrise, Inc., he made her into one of the best enforcers I have ever seen – that includes the best the Supreme Council has to offer. But, such power makes no sense if it is ultimately wasted. And that would happen if some of it is not passed on.

"I propose that each of us send two or three of our best enforcers to Lin, to train into a SWAT-style force. We could then learn from the best what each clan has to offer in the ways of interrogation, investigation, et cetera; until we have groups capable to taking on whatever the Council throws our way."

"I'm not too sure about that," Ringgold said. "But, what the hell? I'll agree to it just to get this meeting moving again."

For the first time that day, Riordan felt some weight come off his shoulders. If he kept on playing his cards right, he might just be able to pull this alliance off. Just then, Allison quietly stepped in, walked over to him and whispered something in his ear.

"Okay, let us take a short recess to stretch our legs," Riordan abruptly said.

"Anything wrong?" Giancarlo asked on his way out of the room.

"No, maybe some fresh blood will help us get back to concentrating on the meeting," Riordan lied again.

Allison had just told him more bad news. Pratt had found one of his familiars dead and another critically injured in a building near downtown. Worse, the perpetrator had apparently been spying on the reception the previous evening.

When everyone left the room, Riordan crossed back over to the nearest window and looked out. Somewhere amidst the plethora of buildings and houses stretching as far as the eye could see was an unseen enemy. One that threatened everything he had accomplished.

Somebody was onto the alliance and was playing for keeps.

Chapter 12

Heidi thought she and Angelica were just passing through downtown Fort Worth. However, Angelica cut off the highway via the Belknap Street exit, heading over the bridge and into downtown Fort Worth. Just before the courthouse, the former bodybuilder turned right, curved around, and got onto the Main Street Bridge. Heidi recognized the spot, inhaled sharply and closed her eyes, trembling.

"Sorry to do this, babe," Angelica said, emotionlessly. "But, the first step in training is to face your fears. Isn't that what you tell the women in your training class?"

Forcing herself to calm down, Heidi slowly opened her eyes. She looked hard at Angelica and then sighed again. She nodded in agreement, sitting back as Angela parked in a lot at the low end of the bridge. She waited as Angelica climbed out. After some hesitation, she climbed out, too.

"That's the Fort Worth Police Department right across the river," she pointed out. "Aren't you worried I'll be recognized since I am, officially, a missing person?"

Angelica shook her head. "To the powers that be, you're just another faceless person."

"This is so embarrassing," Heidi said, as they carefully made their way down to the jogging path that ran alongside the river.

"Hmm, not quite the reaction I expected," Angelica noted. "This is where you basically died and became a vampire, and, you're embarrassed?"

"Ah, no, I mean I always tell my clients to face their fears," Heidi explained, sheepishly. "I had a woman in one of my classes who was raped and refused to go back into her own bedroom for years afterward. I got her through it. But, something happens to me and I act like some novice student instead of the instructor. What does that make me?"

"Human."

Smiling at Angelica, Heidi thanked her for the support. She stopped at the pathway where she had been attacked and stared hard. The blood was gone now but her memories remained. Angelica kept watch, her eyes darting about while her right hand remained near her jacket pocket.

"This is almost too much," she said, slowly.

"You almost died," Angelica answered. "You have a right to be anxious."

"No, I mean these past few days have been so weird," Heidi clarified. "Just when I thought I was going to learn something, Jesus says we're leaving town. Then, Ryker and Marcus have a Mexican stand-off, and Wesley actually got into a fight with Cantrell. If this is what passes for training to join the group, I might have to rethink this whole thing."

"Can't blame you," Angelica sighed. "Ryker's definitely a product of his environment, but that doesn't excuse the rest of us. We have definitely got to get our...crap together.

"Strange as it might seem, I can actually sympathize," Heidi countered, much to Angelica's surprise.

"Really?" Angelica said, with more sarcasm than she meant.

"A couple of nights ago, all I wanted to do was kill vampires," Heidi explained. "I don't think I could imagine what drove the rest of you into this fight. People are shaped and altered irrevocably by past experiences. I've often referred clients to psychiatrists and therapists, but I imagine there can't be many, if any, of those types available for people like you and Dolores and the others."

"May I ask what your degree was in, Heidi?" Angelica asked, curiously.

"Psychology," Heidi replied, with a slight blush. "Never got to practice, though. I thought teaching women to defend themselves was of more immediate importance. Seems like I should have kept at my profession. Then, maybe I could get to the root of this Moonrise thing."

Angelica shook her head, as the wind blew her tresses across her face.

"I don't recommend going there, Heidi," she warned. "You haven't been around long enough to understand even a little bit of what went on there."

"Then, he had a point with Moonrise?" Heidi asked. "Ryker, I mean."

"Just drop it, okay," Angelica snapped, looking back over her shoulder.

Heidi walked closer to the river. "I guess I'm not the only one who needs a first step. Maybe Dolores letting Ryker stay is that first step."

"Not quite," Angelica corrected. "She allowed Ryker to not get booted out. We're still leaving. Dolores is just letting Cantrell come up with possible plans to use against Riordan and those clan masters, should we find out that they're actually planning something that could harm us. Does that explain it?"

"Yeah, sure," a disbelieving Heidi replied. "In other words, she sidelined him. And when we get to the safehouses, would it be too much of a stretch to say that he won't be called back in when – or if – we decide to rejoin the fight?"

Angelica said nothing and didn't even look in Heidi's direction.

"Thanks for clearing the air on that one," Heidi said.

"You know, you're right," Angelica stated. "You might get recognized. We'd better go pick up Patel from the hospital."

Heidi knew she wasn't going to get anything else out of her guardian. Reluctantly, she nodded. After one last look at the spot where she had died, she shivered and quickly turned away to catch up with Angelica.

Chapter 13

Aurelia Hernandez shot up out of bed, sweating profusely. Despite the perspiration, she was shivering. She rubbed her eyes and arms before throwing back the covers of her bed. She looked out the window and saw it was still night.

She needed to call Ian. She wanted to know what he'd found out from Diane Simmons. After all, that balderdash about witness protection had been a farce dreamed up by Lin Tang. She shivered again, thinking of Lin's ambush in the hospital parking lot. The woman was crazy, Aurelia had told herself. She'd actually bitten her!

Sure, the enforcer had quickly closed the wounds, but that did not diminish the true terror of the attack. In the moment when she was bitten, Aurelia could only see her children's faces. She felt an intense fear like she'd never felt before. That had driven home the need to find Duke's killer that much faster, before Lin Tang took care of the matter herself. It didn't take a genius to see Tang would add the detective to the ranks of the half-deads.

To avoid that fate, she needed Ian to come through. At the thought, she switched from being frightened to being angry. She wanted Ian, but had to let him go into the clutches of Diane Simmons. Nausea threatened to overpower her stomach and she reached over to her nightstand for the half-full glass of water she'd left there earlier.

She felt completely helpless. She'd lost Ian, Riordan was losing faith in her abilities and Lin Tang had had actually threatened her family, the one thing she cared most about in this world. And she was powerless to stop it.

Or was she?

She reached over to her phone, picked it up and dialed furiously.

"Hello, Kamarov, this is Aurelia," she said. "Yes, I know it's late. I have a job for you. Yes, it's urgent."

Cantrell Ryker typed furiously into the computer, navigating through at least three Internet search engines. He found pages, copied them to regular document files, and moved onto to more research.

For hours on end, since that turbulent night less than twenty-four hours earlier, he devoted himself to his plan. It was all he really had, all that kept him from the street, from another stretch of being a fugitive.

"Need some help?"

Ryker glanced at his computer screen and saw from the reflection on the monitor that Kelly White Cloud had just entered the makeshift computer lab.

"I'm fine," Cantrell muttered. "You shouldn't be here. I might be infectious."

"Coffee break then. Can you spare the time?"

Ryker looked over his shoulder. It was then he noticed she carried two extra large cups of something hot and steaming. He relented a bit and accepted one from her. It smelled like French vanilla cappuccino, his favorite.

He took a quick sip and apologized for his behavior. "I shouldn't be taking my frustrations out on you. And, yeah, I've got time. This little project here was something Dolores dreamed up to sideline me."

"I'm sorry it had to happen like this," Kelly said, slipping into the room and onto a folding chair. "But, if you ask me, it's been building for a long time. Some days, it seems like we're just a bunch of people standing around instead of a team of professionals. Hell, I've been stuck at base since you brought me in. Because I might run into one of the half-deads among the three million people in this county."

Ryker couldn't argue.

"What are you looking at?" Kelly asked, changing the subject.

"Computers."

"Okay, wise ass, what are you looking at on the computers?"

"Searching for information on our targets," Ryker replied, setting his coffee down on a side table. "Sixteen clan masters together in one place has never happened before. That I know of. This is more than just a social gathering."

"You said there were rumors of an alliance?" she asked between sips of her coffee.

"It's possible," Ryker confirmed. "Maybe it's true. Maybe it's not. But, it's one of those things you don't joke about. This war is already lopsided. An alliance would be the final nail in our coffin."

Kelly shivered at the thought and its implications.

"Hold on," she suddenly said. "What if Dolores and Jesus are right? Maybe they'll leave town once their business is finished. They can be an alliance from afar, right? Like at the United Nations?"

"You'd think, but you'd be wrong," Ryker answered, solemnly. "There's another reason for an alliance that doesn't involve us. In fact, I'm pretty sure they don't even know we exist."

"Then, who would they blame Duke's death on?" Kelly queried.

Ryker typed something into his computer and a screen popped up with a sinister dragon logo. Kelly studied it and saw it was some sort of European family crest, for the dragon held a shield and a sword. Kelly also noticed that the monster had vampire-like fangs.

"Ruling crest of the Supreme Council," Ryker explained. "Sometimes they go by the Tribunal or a few other names depending on who's in charge at the moment. They run things in Europe, as well as parts of Africa that used to be European colonies. They've been around for centuries, at least since the time of Vlad Tepov, a.k.a Vlad the Impaler, a.k.a. Dracula.

"The most powerful and aged of these Hominus Nocturna formed the Supreme Council to take care of their affairs in the Old World, what you know as Eastern Europe. Eventually, they expanded to all of Europe, plus colonies in Africa and the Middle East. They were who first decided it was best to keep vampire numbers small and controlled. They created rules and formed networks to help protect their kind. Later, when European explorers reached the New World, they began organizing things here on this side of the Atlantic. However, they tended to use proxies as few wanted to venture to such a faraway land. Let's just say that, without discipline, these proxies went a little overboard."

"And the clans here formed Mafia-like families to run their own affairs?" Kelly asked.

"Not at first," Ryker explained. "But, plans were made, especially when the Supreme Council failed to protect their own from the Salem Witch Trials and the Puritans."

"The Salem Witch trials were real?" Kelly gasped.

"They didn't get any witches, but they cleaned house of the vampire menace," Ryker expounded. "Ironically, it was an alliance of Puritans and Native Americans, a feat unto itself considering all the bad blood between colonists and Indians after the Great Swamp Fight and the Narragansetts' burning of Providence.

"Anyway, the clans got bigger and bigger until they directly challenged the Supreme Council. The Council reached a truce because it had to. However, as part of the truce, they got to build the equivalent of a consulate in the main city of each clan's territory. To iron out differences and problems, according to the official line, which is pure bull."

"They're trying to influence the smaller clans to ally with the Supreme Council, right?" Kelly deduced. "To contain the big clans, hem them in so they don't get too strong."

"Hey, I'm not the only smart one around here," Ryker quipped, visibly impressed. "But, that's the gist of it."

Kelly silently sipped her coffee as she absorbed the history lesson. Ryker, getting no further cues, shrugged and went back to his work.

"What happened to you, Cantrell?" Kelly said, suddenly.

Caught off-guard by the question, Ryker raised an eyebrow and turned around again. He half-expected Kelly not to follow through on the question. So, he was surprised when she pressed the issue.

"A long story would be an understatement," he admitted. "Let's just say I went from good guy to the quarry almost overnight."

"Quarry, eh? You make it sound like something to do with mining."

"Well, I don't take it for granite," Ryker quipped, though his smile disappeared when he saw the blank expression on Kelly's face. "Hmm, must work on my humor. Seriously, though. I can't talk about it and it's over the head of Dolores and Jesus. Way over."

Kelly gave Ryker a confused look.

"Then, what about Moonrise?" Kelly said. "No one wants to talk about it, but it seems to factor into everything, every decision that's made. And, it all seems to be aimed straight at you."

Ryker couldn't complain. He'd always encouraged young people to learn by asking questions. How could he fault Kelly for asking a sensitive question?

"Moonrise was a big organization," Ryker said, at last. "More than sixty members, active and in reserve. That's huge for anyone in this business. Of course, with so many members and so many missions – vampires, witches, cults, werewolves, lycanthropes, et cetera –there was a lot of infighting. The group had been broken into three parts for ease of administration, but they all drew from the same resource pool.

"The end result was each group vying for funding, computer time and other resources. Add in some of the members were more visible than others, which led to clashes of egos. That's how it was when I joined in. There were two others, besides me, who ended up being liaisons between the groups."

"So, you never got anything done?" Kelly asked.

"On the contrary," Ryker countered, strongly. "We had success. Mixed success, but success nonetheless, especially in the deprogramming area. In fact, we had one big operation right after I joined. This cult recruited and brainwashed fifty college students. The aim was to send them back to their colleges to recruit others, in some weird black Sabbath MLM."

"Sounds like something went wrong," Kelly said.

"Don't get ahead of the story, please," Ryker lightly admonished. "As I was saying, we had to use the entire organization and were still outnumbered three to one. Absolutely, horrible planning. A bunch of cultists escaped because we weren't coordinated."

"Like I said, something went wrong."

"You get a cookie," Ryker snorted. "Now, shut up and drink your coffee. Anyway, I wasn't supposed to be active in field ops, but, I had to go in to stop all these guys, including Lo Chang, from getting away. It was like the O.K. Corral. Bodies were dropping like flies."

"Wow," Kelly whispered, stunned. "Were the cops there?"

"Not until the end," Ryker replied. "When I realized just how much clout this cult really had. I mean, the cops should have been there by accident considering the whole operation took the better part of a day. But, the cops got all the credit when the news cameras showed up."

"You got no credit for anything?"

"Not a thing," Ryker answered, with a shrug. "I still don't know how it got covered up. Guy must have had a whole lot of favors owed to him. Oh, sorry, Guy Laroux was one of the founders of Moonrise. He used to run with Dolores and Jesus back in the so-called good ol' days. Yeah, right, as if there were any good days in this war."

"You don't sound happy," Kelly noted. "I would have thought a mission with such a resounding success would be cause for some of those good ol' days."

"You'd think, but the success gave us hubris," Ryker said. "Well, not me. I tried to get the others to analyze the battle and fix the mistakes, but it's hard to convince a victorious army to do things like that. That sense of being unbeatable didn't last long."

"You mean the incident in California, right?" Kelly asked.

Ryker sighed and nodded, his shoulders sagging.

"We got word on this incredibly well-organized, religious cult," he said. "Guy and the others insisted we had to take it down, no matter the cost. Somehow, he'd gotten wind of something really big, possibly between the cult and one of the big vampire clans. I objected and got shunted aside. No way were we ready for something like that. They went ahead anyway and you know the rest. Everybody died, on both sides. A hundred or so in all. Complete disaster."

"Wow, no wonder Dolores and Jesus and the others were so emotional," Kelly stated, whistling low.

"The founding members of Moonrise were friends with Jesus and Dolores," Ryker said. "Jessie, Horace, Angelica, Elvis, Manuel, Marcus; they all had a friend or two in the group that died that day."

"And they blame you for living?"

"I committed the ultimate sin in their eyes," Ryker commented, his arms crossed and his head hung low. "I was a cancer to team unity. As Guy said, I was opposed to the whole spirit of Moonrise. I was expected to mold myself to fit the ship, so to speak. It was all flowery, but I'd read Sand Pebbles, too.

"You see, groups like Moonrise are like the Marines, or police SWAT teams, or Special Forces. They're tight knit, like family. I was the outsider, brought in by the leadership to add fresh blood, so to speak. At first, it was good because, as a stranger, people could open up to me and say things they wouldn't say to friends. Then, it got bad. Real bad."

Kelly didn't realize that she'd been holding her breath during the last explanation. She slowly let it up and drained almost the rest of her coffee to settle herself.

"How come everyone thought you were dead?"

"Laroux had a list of the people involved in the operation on his person," Ryker said. "Incredibly stupid, of course. Another silly mistake. The FBI got hold of the list and my name was still on it, so, with the incident spread all over the news, I was officially dead. And I had to stay dead."

Kelly sat silently for several minutes. Ryker said nothing to break that silence. Instead, he went back to creating his plan on his computer.

"You weren't with the group during the operation?" she finally asked. "Where were you during that time?"

"Nowhere," Ryker answered, without emotion. "I got sidelined."

A knot formed in the pit of Kelly's stomach. Easing herself out of her chair, she headed for the doorway. There, she ran flush into Marcus.

"Oh, hey, Marcus," she said.

"Can you give us a moment?" Marcus asked.

"It's okay," Kelly answered. "I was just leaving. Thanks for answering my questions, Cantrell."

"Cantrell," Marcus announced after Kelly was gone. "We need to talk."

Chapter 14

Marcus sighed when Ryker didn't acknowledge him. He forced the issue, stepping into the room, and taking the seat Kelly had vacated. Ever the patient one, he simply whistled for what felt like an eternity.

"Is there something I can help you with?" an irritated Ryker demanded. "I've got legitimate work to do."

"You can be a real asshole sometimes, Cantrell," Marcus noted, sourly. "I just wanted to see how you're feeling."

"You pointed a gun at my head," Ryker snorted. "How do you think I feel?"

"And you disrespected myself and Angelica," Marcus shot back. "After we went out on a limb to sponsor you. I had half a mind to let Angelica break you off a new one, and, we both know she could have done it."

Ryker sat silent.

"That's right, Cantrell," Marcus droned on. "Deal with a serious issue by acting like a child with the silent treatment. Let me tell you what I think. You spent so much time hiding, you lost sight of who your real friends are. Having to rely on no one but yourself, you had to become a killer. You couldn't afford to make friends who might become targets of vampires, or, who might get turned and attack you. So, you kept everyone at arm's length. Am I right so far?"

Ryker was still silent, but he also stopped typing on his computer.

"We didn't just bring you in to the group for your experience, Cantrell," Marcus continued. "We brought you in so you could get used to society again. If we're to finally get the upper hand in this war, the days of hunters being loners has to end. But, to do that, we need people to cooperate and be team players."

Ryker started typing again. Marcus muttered under his breath. He'd tried. Pushing himself wearily to his feet, he walked out of the room.

"You know what the hardest part about being on the run was?"

Marcus stopped and turned around. He saw Ryker lift his head. There was no anger anymore, but the mercenary couldn't quite put his finger on what had replaced it.

"Not having anyone to talk to," Ryker finished. "No friends, no family. You find yourself reacting to things, because one slip and you could suffer a fate worse than death. You anticipate it from everyone around you. Are they vampires? Are they human and, if so, are they freakin' familiars? That's why I wasn't surprised when you pulled the gun on me. And, God help me, I was prepared to shoot, just to go down fighting, like I'd readied myself for every damned night I was on the run. That's why I hate running."

Now, Marcus was the one at a loss for words. Why hadn't he seen it before? Hadn't he trained himself to look for adverse effects among his fellow mercenaries? Did he think it would be different in a highly civilized nation like America?

Ryker was one of the toughest hunters he'd ever met. Yet, before all of that, he had been a Navy officer, not a warrior trained for combat, like a Marine. The war had been forced on him, made worse by the unflinching egos of Moonrise. And now, here in Fort Worth, the same conditions manifested themselves again, like he'd heard Ryker talking about before he'd interrupted.

Even worse, Ryker had no one to turn to. At that, he thought about Angelica and was glad he had her. Dolores had Jesus. Horace had an eye for Jessie. But what about a man like Ryker, who feared making relationships when the next day could bring death or capture by the police?

Just then, Kelly brushed past, forcing her way into the room. A stunned Marcus deduced she must have been in the hallway, listening as he had been doing during the earlier conversation between the two. She stopped and looked back him, with a mix of pleading and angry eyes.

"Christ, Marcus, you're the asshole, you know that?" she snapped.

Before Marcus could answer, Kelly threw her arms about Ryker's neck and shoulders. It was then the mercenary realized that Ryker was crying. After a moment, he watched Ryker grip one of Kelly's arms, whereupon, she moved to one side and pulled his head against her body. She held him tightly, letting him sob uncontrollably even as he wrapped his arms about her and hugged her tightly.

Feeling out of place, Marcus turned and left.

Bartoli Kamarov hated his life. He'd been quite comfortable in his house when Aurelia Hernandez called. He would have hung up on her, had he not been certain of his life ending. Aurelia had kept him out of prison on a third strike, but could send him back to Huntsville in a second if he didn't cooperate.

Bringing the binoculars back up to his eyes, he looked over the edge of the roof upon which he lay. He instantly zeroed in on a small auto repair shop. It was nondescript and he wouldn't have paid any attention to it, except, he hadn't seen a single customer go in or out of the place. He'd been watching the place all morning and the only movement he had observed was from a burly man in overalls working under the hood of a sedan. At least, it appeared that the man was fixing it, Kamarov had not seen the mechanic – if he could be called that – taking anything out of the vehicle or putting any new parts in.

"That's interesting," he said to himself. "Looks like Andujar actually earned his pay this time."

Kamarov had learned from one of his own snitches the auto repair shop had been open a few months, but no one in the area knew much about it. A man named Manuel Avecedo ran it, but only took special clients – who were always coming to the garage for repairs. Unless this Manuel was a piss-poor mechanic and those clients were incredibly naïve, something was amiss.

Kamarov had once been one of the most trustworthy members of the Russian Mafia, until Vladimir Putin found it expedient to crack down on his bosses, right around election time. Kamarov fled to Miami. Joining up with the Russian mob there only to be become a guest of the state twice, –he had struck out on his own, working freelance to scout locations and individuals for discerning clients.

He liked working for Aurelia. She might have been good at forcing confessions out of people, but she was a lousy detective. In less than half a day, he found out more about the people she was hunting than she had in a week. Of course, he had scores of associates who would never dream of talking to a cop. That was why she paid so well, to cover her deficiencies.

And, Kamarov had to admit, he had no problems getting dirty, unlike the detective. He didn't mind being on top of a dilapidated building. It gave him a great view of the garage. In fact, he could see the entire block and began to wonder about it. The fences that once separated the individual businesses had been taken down. Even more mysterious, the other three buildings besides the garage looked to be occupied, with lights on. Yet, he saw no one going in and out of them.

"Finally, some business," he said to himself.

He watched a black SUV roll up to the gates of the repair shop. The gates rolled back to admit the vehicle and closed behind it. He continued to watch until the vehicle stopped inside the first garage bay. When the driver climbed out, Kamarov did a double take.

"Ian Hendricks?" he gasped. "But, that's Aurelia's primary source. Well, well, well, this ought to be good for a big pay raise."

Kamarov knew Aurelia used Hendricks to find out things about people who did not like publicity. He also knew Hendricks was not unfamiliar with the supernatural, especially vampires. Kamarov still shuddered at the thought that vampires truly existed and was not anxious to meet any. That was his only condition when working with Aurelia – he would not work or meet with vampires.

Back to the present situation, Kamarov could only deduce one thing. Hendricks was working both sides. He was a mercenary. Yet, Kamarov had to know who the other "side" was. He put away his binoculars and brought his telephoto camera up, snapping more pictures of Manuel, plus some new ones of Ian.

"Who's around?" Ian asked as he slammed his truck door shut. "Or all they all still packing?"

"Jesus and Dolores are here," Manuel answered, while stacking old tires. "So are Michael Lee and Jessie, of course. But, be careful what you say. Jesus is not really in a good mood."

"What else is new?" Ian joked, until he saw the serious look on Manuel's face. "What happened?"

"Well, you'd find out anyway," Manuel answered. "Marcus got into a stand-off with Ryker. They were pointing guns at each other, amigo."

"Jeez, are you serious?" Ian asked, incredulous.

"Somehow they didn't shoot each other," Manuel continued, carefully leaving out how he almost caused disaster by knocking over his toolbox. "But, then Ryker and Elvis got into it. Elvis went after Ryker and slammed him right into that stack of carburetors. Then, Ryker kicked him in the cajones. Elvis had to go to the hospital to get checked out this morning."

"Too bad I missed it," Ian remarked. "You'd think Wesley would've pounded Ryker into a pulp. Cantrell certain had it coming in spades. Will wonders never cease? So, I'm guessing they won't be in a mood to part with any money today?"

"I would say no, amigo," Manuel answered.

"Well, nothing beats a try but a failure," Hendricks countered, with a beaming smile. "Because, today, I might just have something that will cheer everybody up."

Ian went into the office. Manuel merely shrugged and continued cleaning up his garage.

"You know why Dolores and I started the Hunters, Ian?" Jesus asked.

Jesus sat in a rather large office, occupied by two cheap, battered metal desks. At least half the drawers were jammed shut but it did not matter. The Hunters' operation was such that things might have to be abandoned in a hurry.

Dolores occupied the second desk, carefully going through a stack of file folders. To her right was a medium-sized box in which she placed two of the folders. Jesus was at the desk closest to the door, while Ian had a heavily dented folding chair.

"For personal reasons," Jesus explained. "Our daughter, Evangeline, was turned and we had to kill her. We made it our life's work to save others from that fate. I like to think we've made a difference. We made a dent. A family here. A master vampire there. Mostly in small towns. We've kept our group small to attract little attention but, I'm afraid that is all about to change."

Ian listened politely. It didn't pay – literally – to be ungracious to someone paying the bills. In truth, as long as the cash flowed, Ian would possess the most attentive ears.

"Doesn't sound like anything's changed, Jesus," he commented. "In fact, it sounds like business as usual. Now, don't take this the wrong way, but neither of you can honestly expect to keep doing this strenuous small-scale stuff at your ages."

Dolores stopped messing with her file folders and shot a dirty look at Ian. It did not last long, though, as the truth of Ian's words hit home. She leaned heavily against her chair, contemplating things.

"What would you recommend then, Ian?" she asked. "Maybe we overreached with such a small group. Maybe taking down Lin Tang is too monumental a task for anyone. How can we compete against a man like her boss, Riordan, who controls police like your so-called friend Aurelia Hernandez? He has enough clout making the victims of his underlings go away. He's got an enforcer like Lin, plus hundreds of familiars spread out around the county that we have to account for. His headquarters is an armed fortress with a small heavily-armed protection force to guard it."

Ian repressed a sigh. This was not going well.

"You wouldn't be here for a mere social visit," Jesus added. "So, amigo, tell me what's on your mind?"

Ian took a deep breath, held it for a moment and then let it out to steel his nerves. Standing up, he shed his coat and tossed it over the back of his chair. The weight of it nearly tipped the chair over, but Ian coolly stuck a foot out and caught the bottom crossbar. When he had set things right again, he looked at his benefactors.

"Okay, let's get the hard part over with," he started. "I was a bit pissed you were leaving town, and, not just because of the loss of a reliable paycheck. Living in a town secretly controlled by vampires was a bit easier knowing the people, and means, existed to threaten that control. However, my mood was tempered by an interesting turn of events. A special project landed in my lap. I am doing witness protection with a woman named Diane Simmons."

Neither Dolores nor Jesus seemed to recognize the name.

"She's a half-dead," Ian explained.

The Montoyas recognized that.

"Jesus Christo," Dolores uttered. "Ian, are you crazy? Getting involved with a half-dead?"

"You didn't tell her anything about us, did you?" Jesus demanded. "Don't you know from Kelly, Lin Tang keeps a tight rein on her half-deads?"

"Relax," Ian countered. "It's not like she's the leader of the half-deads. According to my people, she's not even in the hierarchy. She's just the numerical replacement for Kelly. But, we can still use her."

"And just how were you planning to do that?" Dolores queried.

"Well, that's why I'm here," Ian admitted. "I've got a plan that just might work, but I'll need your help. Normally, I know you'd use Marcus to do the particulars. In a pinch, maybe Elvis, but both of them are pretty busy with the logistics of the move. That just leaves Ryker."

"No, it doesn't," Jesus corrected, giving Dolores a stern look that said not to contradict him. "Dolores and I were planning complicated missions long before he arrived. What is it you want us to do?"

Ian smiled. His plan had worked. Who knew that Ryker would actually be useful? He mused. Brimming with confidence, he reached into a vest pocket and produced a small notebook.

"Well, what I have goes something like this," he said, as he laid his plan out.

Chapter 15

Lin Tang watched, impressed, as the vampires successfully navigated the obstacle course she'd set up for them at an old gun range in far north Tarrant County. It was pitch-black and yet they navigated the course with ease. Whenever enemy silhouettes popped up, they took them out with their shotguns, submachine guns or pistols. Only once did someone mistakenly take out a vampire.

She'd gotten a vampire from each of the masters now allied with her boss. She hoped for at least two per clan, but understood the reluctance and skepticism. After all, she was trying to take fifteen huge egos and meld them into one unified ego that could, potentially, take on the best the Supreme Council had to offer.

And, that was her ultimate goal. She had no doubt the Council had hired humans to kill Duke and Kane to embarrass her master. The linchpin to discovering these humans was Ian Hendricks and, once he was in her clutches, she would bleed him for everything he knew. Then, she would sic her new enforcer squad on the Council and exact a bloody revenge. With that, she would also send a message, much as she had when she eliminated Kuster.

"Very impressive," she complimented, when the exercise had finished. "For a reward, you each get to hunt tonight. No corpses or converts, please, but you can have as many meals tonight as you want. Let us see if you can keep yourselves out of the news tomorrow."

The vampires cheered and went about their clean-up tasks. Lin Tang walked away from them, activating her earpiece to call Riordan. She gave him the good news and then made a separate call. She wanted information about Diane Simmons, who had been getting spotty in her performance lately. Lin had worked especially hard to develop the woman and didn't need her flaking out.

Can't even control your own half-deads, can you? How can you expect these enforcers to trust you?

"What news of our little detective?" Lin asked when she made the connection. "Yes, I see. That is good. Very good. I was getting worried. Activate the next phase."

She disconnected her phone and smiled, mischievously. It was time to reward herself with a night on the town. She just had to decide which of her new enforcers she would take to bed when the evening was over.

Diane felt sick. She had done what Lin Tang had asked of her. She had pretended to be a witness to a crime in order to get next to Ian. She had discovered valuable information about him and his contacts. Yet, she sensed that Lin Tang was still not pleased and she worried herself sick. What more did she need to do?

Sitting in Ian's safehouse, being minded by another of his dykish assistants, she thought hard on what to do. After several fruitless minutes, she hit on something. Maybe she was being too one-dimensional in that, she always tried to use her stunning looks to get what she wanted. Maybe if she tried using her brain, she might accomplish her mission and get back in her master's good graces.

She looked up from her thoughts and saw the stout guardian named Jennifer standing in the doorway.

"Excuse me?"

"I said that Ian just called and will be over here shortly," Jennifer repeated, sounding like she was in a foul mood. "In about an hour."

"Thank you," Diane said.

When the woman was gone, Diane went back to thinking. She only had an hour to come up with a completely different plan.

Louis Riordan should have been more confident. He had practically sewn up the leadership of the new alliance. The others had taken his suggestion of a combined enforcer squad under Lin Tang's command without any protest. Despite all the good news, he was very troubled.

Kane's ashing. Having Lin eliminate Kuster. Duke's assassination. Even the failure of Pratt and the police in finding Kane's victim. And now, the latest incident – the attack on familiars in a building right across the street from where he held his ball for the other clan masters. One dead, another maimed by a cattle prod to the crotch. A third familiar was missing and he could only assume that she was dead.

To blame it all on the Supreme Council would be foolish. The Council could be cruel, but not stupid. It would not kill members of the clans, even if it thought seriously about showing the large clans as weak. While it might help the Council recruit among the unincorporated clans, it would invite retaliation and, possibly, war.

No. Somebody was openly challenging his rule. And, he had no real clue who it could be. So far, Lin Tang had sicced her best half-dead on a man named Ian Hendricks, who was also working for Aurelia Hernandez. It seemed that particular avenue yielded no useful information yet. Travis Pratt had gone back to the hospital to question the injured familiar as to his attacker's identity. It galled him to have to depend on others for such crucial information.

To make matters worse, strong doubts had begun to creep into his psyche. Was the person or persons responsible somehow connected to one of the other clan masters? Was it a subtle way of undermining his authority? If so, who could it be?

His first choice would have been Edge Ringgold. The man was an uncouth lout, who felt no apprehension at challenging his authority in front of the others. Then again, only Giancarlo Tesino could have had the clout to hire mercenaries or professionals bold enough to do the deed in Riordan's backyard.

Riordan was going to have a lot of trouble sleeping for the next few days, until he got some answers.

If Louis Riordan was troubled, Travis Pratt was angry. Until now, he had enjoyed the fruits of his position as Riordan's head of security. No one had really ever challenged Riordan, as far as humans were concerned, so the job was a piece of cake. Any upstart vampires faced the wrath (and swords) of Lin Tang.

Now, however, he had been touched. One of his familiars – albeit not a very good one – was dead. Another had been maimed and still couldn't talk. A third had simply disappeared. The best clue he had involved an actual dead guy and the possibility that maybe an ally of said corpse was in town. Of course, nobody knew what allies, if any, Cantrell Ryker ever had. At least, ones who hadn't been killed already.

So, here he was, heading back into the hospital to talk to his only witness, a man who once had the biggest balls among his familiars. Now, thanks to an unknown assailant and a cattle prod, the man had none.

He strode into the lobby, Porter Coleman and two other familiars in tow. Instead of going to the information desk, he cut right and headed for the elevators. He took his group to the basement where the hospital's main laboratories and blood banks dwelled.

Pratt had an intern in one of the laboratories on retainer and relied heavily on the woman to keep tabs on vampire victims, particularly the ones who looked to be well into the turn. This day, he needed to know if anyone had showed up in the emergency room with odd injuries. The injured guard was an expert knife man and Pratt hoped he had gotten in at least one good strike. It was a long shot, to be sure, but it was all he had.

"I can't think of anyone stupid enough to do anything this outrageous," a familiar named Cutchner commented.

"Wake up and smell the coffee, Cutch," Coleman retorted. "This is at least the fourth incident in the past four months. This is making us all look bad."

"Both of you shut up," Pratt snapped. "Try thinking of some names, why doncha'?"

"I already gave you a name," Coleman said. "It's gotta' be those friends of Ryker's we keep hearing about."

"Jeez, give it a rest, Porter," Pratt spat. "Ryker's dead. He was a loose cannon. He didn't have any friends. Think of someone else."

"Au contraire, mon frere," Coleman countered. "He does have a couple of friends. Most notably, a mercenary named Marcus Van Niekerk – pretty nasty character, from South Africa. He'd have the chops and the resources to make that hit on Duke."

"South Africa's pretty far away from here, Coleman," Cutchner noted. "Why would he be in Fort Worth?"

The elevator doors opened and the quartet stepped out. A rather muscular woman and a short man in a lab coat were just getting in to the other elevator. Cutchner took time to get an eyeful of the woman's rear before trotting to catch up with his friends.

"Guys, you won't believe it but I think that was Angelica Morales," he said, when he caught up.

"The pro bodybuilder?" Coleman asked. "Why would she be down here?"

"She's retired from the bodybuilding circuit," Cutchner explained. "She became a bodyguard months ago. Used to have a lot of high-profile clients, but she dropped off the map for some reason. Wonder what she was doing with that doctor?"

"Probably testing for steroids," the fourth familiar, a woman named Eilbacher, joked. "She looks like a man to me. Maybe the doc's gonna' give her an operation to turn her back into a woman."

Pratt ignored the drivel. He longed for the days when more professional people signed on to be familiars. But, with the lack of any real action, most of the good people eventually left for more exciting jobs. Pratt was left with what he could scrape up, namely a pasty-faced Coleman and lightweights like Cutchner and Eilbacher.

A middle-aged, rather comely, light-skinned black woman stepped out of the lab at the end of the hall. It was the lab where the hospital did its blood research. Pratt didn't particularly like the hematology lab because it gave him all sorts of problems when overeager doctors tried to test vampire-tainted blood.

"Vicky, what's the word?" Pratt asked.

Vicky Adevold looked past Pratt and at his companions.

"You know Coleman and the other two are with me," Pratt explained. "Now, out with it. What's new?"

"Did you see that man in the lab coat?" she asked.

"Yeah, so what? I'm not here for him."

"You should be," Vicky answered. "He's been here for the past two days. Doing some really weird work."

"What do you mean by weird?" Coleman asked.

"He seemed to have done most of his research before he got here," Vicky expounded. "He just said he had a few tweaks to make on a serum. Something about affecting invasive enzymes in the blood."

"What are you not telling me?" Pratt demanded. "I told you Coleman and the others are with me. They know. So, spill it, girl. I ain't got time for twenty questions."

Vicky shivered and took an involuntary step back.

"I think he might have mentioned something about the vampire enzyme," she blurted. "I can't be sure, but it's why I didn't let you know right away. I could have just misheard him."

Travis wasn't listening to her excuses. Instead, he immediately ordered Cutchner and Coleman to head back up to the parking to catch the man in the lab coat, as well as Angelica Morales. He stayed with Vicky, grabbing her roughly by an arm and dragging her into a supply closet, while telling Eilbacher to watch the corridor.

"No more games, girl," he snarled at the frightened technician. "Or you'll find yourself in a lot more trouble than I can give you. Understand?"

Vicky nodded, meekly.

"Did you get this doctor's name?" Pratt queried.

"I think he said his name was Ravi Patel."

"Eilbacher," he called to the familiar in the doorway.

"On it, boss," the woman replied.

Pratt released Adevold and she backed away, rubbing her arm and fighting back tears from her fright. He watched Eilbacher check the name "Ravi Patel" on her PDA. Within a minute, she had her answer and, when she showed it to him, he swallowed hard

"Damn it," he muttered.

Now it was all beginning to make sense. Patel had been allied with at least three members of the now-defunct Moonrise, Inc. If Angelica Morales was with him, together they could be the "allies" of Ryker he had so readily dismissed.

You idiot, he berated himself.

"Come on," he told the female familiar. "We've got to catch up with Coleman."

Coleman and Cutchner had taken the stairs to get back to the main floor. When they stepped out into the corridor, they looked first at the elevators. Not finding their quarry, they walked quickly to a hallway intersection. That proved fruitless, as well. Cursing, Coleman realized his mistake and tried correcting it by rushing out into the parking lot.

"Shit," he spat. "I should have known they weren't heading deeper into the hospital. How are we supposed to find them now?"

"Wait, over there," Cutchner said, pointing to a large SUV heading for the nearest exit to the street.

Coleman looked. He couldn't see the driver, but did make out the passenger– a short man in what looked like a white lab coat. There was also a woman in the back seat with her window down. He quickly pulled out his cell phone, activated the camera function, and, using the telephoto option, snapped three quick pictures.

"Did you get anything?" Cutchner asked.

"Not sure," Coleman replied. "Maybe Pratt knows someone in the police forensics lab that can help."

"I hope so," Cutchner said. "Well, at least our targets are good-looking this time. I'm so tired of these gap-toothed dogs we have to drag out of truck stops. Jeez, Porter, are you listening?"

Coleman wasn't. He was too busy staring at one of his pictures. It was of the girl in the back seat of the SUV.

"Cutch, you got that picture on you?" he asked, with a voice gone dry.

"What pic?"

"The picture of that girl the cops are looking for," Coleman answered. "The one Kane attacked before he got ashed. Remember? We had to check all of the hospitals to see if she turned up."

Cutchner reached into his jacket and fished out the 4x6 file photo Aurelia Hernandez had dug up somewhere. Coleman took it and set it next to the photo he had. He and Cutchner studied it carefully.

"Damn, I think that's her," Cutchner commented. "Looks close, but I can't be sure. She sure didn't look turned to me."

"It's her," Coleman said. "It's gotta be. This can't be coincidence. And remember that name I had earlier? That mercenary from South Africa."

"Van Niekerk, right?"

"Yeah," Coleman said. "If I'm not mistaken, he's one of the Fifty, as is Angelica Morales. I should have remembered it sooner. Mr. Riordan and Lin Tang mentioned it that night I gave the bad news about Ryker's name being used around town. Van Niekerk would have the skill – and the cajones – to do that ambush on Duke."

"And Angelica Morales is not only on the list with him, but is guarding a doctor affiliated with Moonrise, Ryker's old outfit," Cutchner added, whistling loudly. "Rolling around town, pretty as you please, with someone who supposedly lost enough blood to be well into the turn, before Kane was done in."

"Maybe the serum," Coleman suggested.

"What about the serum?"

Coleman and Cutchner looked up as Pratt and Eilbacher came rushing up. Coleman showed his boss the photos of Heidi. Pratt went ashen.

"Ain't this a bitch?" he snarled. "If this is good news, why the hell do I feel so freakin' bad?"

Inside the SUV, Angelica Morales fought to keep control of her nerves. Seeing Pratt and Coleman walking toward the hematology lab had been bad enough. Seeing Coleman and another familiar come running out of the hospital was even worse.

Next to her, Ravi Patel sat rather patiently. He held a small box of vials in his hands, the sum total of the "tweaking" he'd felt was important enough to jeopardize the Hunters' safety. Angelica hoped his effort was worth it. If Pratt recognized him in some way or if he or Coleman had spotted Heidi, the game would radically change.

"God, I am so sorry," Heidi apologized from the back seat. "It was stuffy in the car; I didn't think it would matter if I had the window down. Do you think they might have recognized me?"

'Do not worry, my dear," Patel consoled. "We had no way of knowing that Pratt or Coleman would be here. Most likely, it was me they were after."

Angelica had no doubt on that. As for Heidi, she could excuse the Hunters' newest member. She was still young and naïve, but she had to grow up fast. They had already saved her from one huge mistake. There might not be a third chance.

"Dial base," she said aloud. "Emergency one."

Her vehicle was equipped with a hands-free phone that operated by voice command. It dialed a special code. A moment later, the voice of Jessie came on.

"Jessie, it's Angelica. We've got a problem. I think Patel was made."

Ryker walked into Jesus Montoya's office, looking nothing like the man who had just released years of frustration and anger into a flood of tears in Kelly White Cloud's arms. In fact, he looked like the same old Ryker as he took a seat in front of Jesus' desk. Without a word, he plopped a thick manila folder onto the desktop, causing a very annoyed Jesus and Dolores to interrupt their work.

"I take it, this is what you've been working on?" Jesus asked after a moment. "The contingency plan?"

"Basically," Ryker said. "It needs a bit of tweaking, but I think we all know it was just busywork to keep me out of the way until everybody's gone."

Dolores raised a perturbed eyebrow at the inference.

"Well, you might be a psycho, Cantrell, but no one can say you're stupid," she remarked, bluntly. "Miracles do exist. That said, I am actually glad to see you. You might be able to help us out with something."

"Like you said, I'm not stupid," Ryker remarked. "Why do I get the feeling I'm about to be sacrificed for something?"

Dolores stood up. She came around her desk and took a seat on the edge of her husband's desk. Her look was totally serious to the point; even Ryker felt it necessary to listen to what she had to say.

"We're all packed and ready to go," she stated. "However, about an hour ago, we had a very interesting visit from Ian. He has a plan he wants us to use...should the right circumstances arise."

Ryker nodded slightly to tell Dolores to continue.

"Ian has made contact with a low-level half-dead," Dolores explained. "The circumstances are dubious so it was easy for him to see through it. Our friendly neighborhood detective Aurelia Hernandez pushed this half-dead on him, supposedly for witness protection, but Ian believes the woman was sent to spy on him and thinks he can flip her into giving up something big on her boss."

"You're not serious," Ryker snorted. "Ian's messing with a half-dead? And you thought I was going to do something stupid?"

"I can't say I approve of Ian's actions, but he might have something," Dolores said. "So far, we've been banging our heads against the wall, trying to find something, anything that will get us close to Lin Tang. This is our best chance yet. Ian took a big chance coming to us with it."

"No, he didn't," Ryker shot back, sarcastically. "He's looking to continue his pay checks."

"Are you a mind-reader now?" Jesus snorted.

"Go ask Marcus or Angelica," Ryker retorted. "Neither of them use Ian's services. The guy's good at getting information, but he's not hands-on. He's never been involved in one of our operations. I don't remember ever hearing of him actively involved in his own cases, other than being behind the scenes. If it wasn't for his connection to Aurelia Hernandez, we'd have no use for him. But, hey, you're the boss."

Dolores said nothing. She just stared at him, her gazing threatening to bore right into his brain. Ryker could only wonder if he'd finally found the straw for the camel's back. He certainly touched just about every nerve.

"Okay, whatever," Ryker relented. "Who's the half-dead? Have you run the name by Kelly?"

"We're not new at this, you know," Jesus said, gruffly. "Kelly said the woman had just joined the ranks of the half-deads about a few months before her, ahem, ordeal."

"Okay, so what's this woman's name?"

"Diane Simmons."

Ryker rolled his eyes, threw his hands up in disgust and got to his feet. He had actually turned and begun walking out of the office, when Jesus told him to stop. Only when Dolores literally put her foot down, did he stop in the doorway and turn to face his bosses.

"Low-level?" he asked, derisively. "Is that what he thinks Diane Simmons is? Low-level?"

"Yes, that is what he said," Dolores replied, angrily. "Oh, wait, let me guess. Wesley was right. You do know everything."

Ryker sighed, crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb.

"Diane Simmons is Kelly's replacement," he said.

"Yes, we know," Jesus said, testily. "She was the numerical replacement. According to Kelly, the next in line for the top position was a guy named Lincoln; the one who betrayed her. He left her for dead at the hands of two other half-deads, he left at the scene to finish her off. As I recall, she would have been dead if you hadn't happened along and taken care of her would-be killers."

"Lincoln did not take Kelly's place in the half-dead leadership hierarchy," Ryker stated. "Think about it. He leaves with Kelly and two others, but comes back alone and none of the others ever show up again. I can pretty much guarantee you his body's one place and his head is in another. Plus, I saw Diane with Lin Tang that night at the banquet hall. She was being escorted by two others acting as bodyguards. I doubt Lin does that for anyone else."

"Look, whatever she is, she's in Ian's pocket now," Jesus snapped.

"Uh-huh," Ryker snorted. "Pocket's not the word I'd use."

"Cantrell!" Dolores admonished.

"Alright, cut to the chase. What am I supposed to be helping Ian with, as far as Diane Simmons is concerned?"

"We're not asking you to bring home another stray," Dolores said, as she got to her feet and stretched her legs. "I think we can all agree she does not need to see our operations. However, I would like you to meet with Ian and Diane. He's going to try to get her to flip."

"Won't happen."

"He's going to try to flip her," Dolores continued. "I need you in the shadows – listening. I want to see if she is pulling the wool over Ian's eyes or if she is genuine."

"No."

"Why not?" Dolores asked, perplexed. "We're not asking you to physically meet her."

Ryker had a knowing demeanor. "You want to use me as bait. Somehow, someway my name is going to slip out to Diane. Then, she is going to repeat it to Lin Tang. And if there is anything that is guaranteed to get that bitch out of her safety zone and into doing something irrational and stupid, it would be trying to get revenge on the man who she believes killed Lo Chang. Tell me I'm wrong."

Neither Dolores nor Jesus said anything to contradict his words. Ryker could only shake his head. Fortunately for everyone, Jesus' cell phone rang. Making a sour face, he answered it. He only listened for a moment before cutting the connection.

"That was Jessie," he said. "Angelica just phoned. She thinks Pratt and Coleman just ID'ed her and Patel at the hospital. It won't take long for them to check her out and find Marcus's name among her known associates from her bodyguard days."

"Well, we all knew it was only a matter of time," Ryker noted.

"Don't be smart," Jesus said. "It also means your grandiose plan of taking on all sixteen clan masters is out the window. As I recall, your plan's primary benefit was the element of surprise."

"Enough, both of you," Dolores interjected. "We have to leave right away, so Ian's plan will have to wait. What I need to know from you, Cantrell, is can we trust you to at least give us time to get set up in the safehouses before you shoot up the town?"

"Yeah, yeah, I gave my word up top, didn't I?" Ryker replied with mild irritation. "I'll stay behind with Michael to ensure the place is scrubbed. Then, I'll drop him off where we stashed the last car. And, like a good boy, I'll go blow in the wind, 'til you guys call me."

Ryker left abruptly, before either Dolores or Jesus could say something. It didn't matter. All three of them knew no phone call would be forthcoming.

"I don't know what our future holds, Dolores," Jesus began, as he stared after Ryker, "but I can guarantee that we cannot have any more people like him in the group."

Dolores nodded in agreement and went to make preparations for departure.

Chapter 16

Ian took Diane to dinner at Sundance Square that very night and enjoyed a fantastic meal. The food and ambiance left Diane wanting more. For some reason, though, she kept fidgeting with her stiletto heels. Ian didn't ask, though, because her ministrations gave him continuous views of her ample cleavage.

"I took a big chance retrieving those heels for you, Diane," Ian commented, as he sipped a glass of red wine. "Don't tell me they're too big."

"No, they're not too big; one of the straps just won't stay tight," Diane said, after straightening up and propping herself on an elbow. "Anyway, I want to thank you for this wonderful dinner. You shouldn't have."

"I always have time for a beautiful woman," Ian said, coyly.

"I mean I am a witness who is supposed to be protected, right?" Diane said. "This doesn't look like a protective detail."

"I was right," Ian countered. "Aurelia said you were a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but I knew different."

"The detective is just jealous," Diane said, with a slight laugh. "You must know that she wants you very badly, Ian. A woman can tell. She'll tell you lies to get what she wants."

"And are you telling me lies, Diane?"

Diane looked mortified.

"How can you say that?" she gasped. "After I've cooperated so far. And I'm sure you know I haven't been faking it when we're together."

Ian suddenly put his wine glass down. He stared directly at Diane, as if he were trying to see into her soul. She looked away, feeling both guilty and uncomfortable.

"Diane, we need to talk," Ian finally said. "But, not here."

"What is it?"

"Not here," Ian repeated. "Too public. Come on. I know a place where we won't be bothered."

"Weren't you waiting for a phone call?" Diane asked. "You said it was important."

"No, it was only important if they didn't call," Ian replied. "They haven't, so we can go."

Diane shrugged, fiddled with her heels one more time, and got up to follow Ian out of the café.

Riordan was in much better spirits when he received Lin Tang that night. She was dressed in workout clothes and looked as if she had just finished a session at the gym. Riordan sniffed the air and knew she had, indeed, been working out, and so, he did not give her his customary kiss on the cheek.

"Are your people ready for action?" he asked, taking his seat behind his desk.

Hmm, does he not trust you to do the job?

"They have proven to be worthy warriors, my master," Lin replied, obediently. "There were some who were reluctant, but they have come around."

Ryker decided not to ask how Lin had gained their compliance.

"That is good to hear," he said instead. "I have just received some very important information. We may end up needing your new enforcer unit."

"I must take offense, my master," Lin retorted, looking hurt. "My half-deads and I are more than capable of carrying out your missions. And you do have Pratt. I thought the enforcer unit was strictly to placate our new allies."

It seems you thought wrong.

"And that is why I am in charge and not you, my dear," Riordan shot back, his voice quiet but his gaze so intense that Lin bowed in deference to atone for speaking out of turn. "The enforcer unit was created so we could sweep through the state and put pressure on the other smaller clans to join with us. Several of them reside on our borders, in case you have forgotten. Plus, I believe we need to send a clear message to the Supreme Council to stay out of our affairs.

"But that's neither here nor there. The reason I called was, initially, to find out where we stood on finding Duke's killer. Now, however, I may have answered that myself."

Lin straightened up and looked at her boss with wanting eyes.

Go ahead, Lin. Beg him.

"Travis called from the hospital," Riordan continued. "What do you know of Angelica Morales?"

"She is, excuse me, was a professional bodybuilder from Fort Worth," Lin replied, wondering what her boss was getting at.

"She was seen escorting a doctor," Riordan explained. "A hematologist who has been working on a serum that supposedly counteracts the vampire enzyme."

"Surely, Travis is wrong, my lord," Lin said, stunned. "That is impossible, isn't it?"

Afraid of losing your half-deads? What will they do if they find that there's a cure for you?

"I wish I could be sure," Riordan answered. "This revelation has left me rather shaken, I must admit. It could very well be that Pratt was clutching at straws. He got his information second-hand. However, the subject is not something even to be joked about, so we must treat even a rumor with concern. As for Angelica Morales, we discussed her before, along with a colleague of hers."

"Marcus Van Niekerk," Lin said.

"Yes, thank you, mademoiselle," Riordan said. "Both are among the last vestiges of the Fifty. By themselves, they pose no threat, but if Senorita Morales is, indeed, escorting this doctor, she now poses a serious threat."

"Begging my master's pardon, but surely she can't really hurt us."

Riordan sighed and stood up. He walked over to his favorite window and peered out across the city.

"It is true, the list of the Fifty has been treated more as a novelty in recent years, since Moonrise went away, but it seems we may have erred gravely in the matter," Riordan said after a moment. "Still, Morales is not quite as important as this doctor. The man's name is Ravi Patel. He has friends who were part of Moonrise."

"Moonrise was destroyed utterly," Lin reminded. "No one survived, if the official reports are to be believed."

"But, it shows that this doctor is still working hard, if he is still in the game," Riordan explained. "This serum may or may not be a reality, but he's working on it as if it is. Besides, somebody ashed Kane and also killed Duke. Angelica Morales' presence here could mean the mercenary is here as well. He is more than capable of carrying out the hit on Duke."

Lin fought to keep back her anger at the mention of her right-hand man. She'd had virtually no success in finding his killer. All she had was Diane and a hunch about Ian Hendricks, but that failed to bear fruit. It was becoming extremely frustrating, a feeling she thought she'd let go long ago.

This conflicts with your theory about the Supreme Council's involvement, doesn't it?

"Which brings us to another matter," Riordan said, turning away from the window to look at his main enforcer. "Travis is sure he spotted Heidi Nguyen with Morales and Patel. Mademoiselle Nguyen, if you remember our earlier heated meeting with Porter Coleman, is the woman who was attacked by Kane before his demise. According to Detective Hernandez, the woman lost enough blood to begin the turn. More than likely, she was the new vampire we sensed.

"However, Coleman said she did not appear to be a vampire. While I'm not going to say Porter is psychic, he has been around us long enough to recognize a vampire, especially a new one. Yet, to have lost so much blood and to have the sensing of a new vampire, so soon after her attack, can only imply that this so-called serum works."

Here it comes, Lin. He is going to add to your burdens with yet another mission.

"I want your enforcer unit ready to move at a moment's notice," Riordan ordered. "Things are very delicate right now. The future of this alliance, as well as my own mission to lead it, could hang in the balance. It is doubly imperative we find these people immediately. Whatever it takes, Lin. No egos, please. And, as always, keep me informed."

"Yes, my master."

See, he still doesn't trust you, Lin. He dismissed you rather easily. Are you going to continue to take that?

"Oh, shut up," Lin said, after she had left Riordan's office. "Why must you torment me so?"

Suddenly, the cell phone clipped to her waistband buzzed. Tossing a stray tress of black hair out of her eyes, she checked the Caller ID. Surprised, she answered.

"What? Where? Get the others and meet me at there."

She hung up.

"Very interesting," she said, stepping into one of the elevators to the lobby. "I have a mission much sooner than even my master realized."

You had better call those enforcers, like your master wants.

"I won't need them," Lin shot back. "My half-deads and I can take care of this. I will show my master that I can do this myself."

She smiled devilishly as the elevator doors closed.

Dolores and Jesus finally got the room quieted down. Their Hunters had all gathered in the makeshift meeting hall, except for Ryker, who manned the monitor room. Everyone else had at least one backpack with them, save for Patel, who had nothing. All of his equipment sat in the lab, waiting to be loaded.

"Okay, you all know your assignments," Jesus announced. "I know this is a rush job, but we've got a serious problem. Angelica was spotted in Patel's company by Travis Pratt and Porter Coleman. We have to assume he found out about Dr. Patel's serum experiments in the hospital lab.

"So, we have to leave a little earlier than planned. We will break off into teams. Wesley, you help Angelica and Dr. Patel. Marcus, you go with Manuel, Jessie and Horace. Heidi, you and Kelly will go with Dolores and myself."

"What about Michael?" Jessie asked.

"He's staying behind to shut down the monitor room," Dolores replied. "He'll leave with Dolores and myself. Ryker will make sure the place is locked down tight and then go. We will all communicate when we get to our respective safehouses. Questions?"

Heidi raised her hand, tentatively.

"Yes?" Dolores acknowledged.

"Kelly and I volunteer to go with Ryker if you need us to," Heidi said. "Safety in numbers."

Dolores smiled at the suggestion. It wasn't all that long ago Heidi wanted nothing to do with Ryker. She was sure Kelly had something to do with Heidi's change of mind.

"That is admirable, my dear," Dolores said. "But it is better if Cantrell goes off by himself. I'll explain it to you when we're safely on the road."

"Are we going low key, Dolores?" Horace queried, as he helped Jessie cinch up her backpack.

"To start, yes," Dolores answered. "We don't want to attract undue attention."

Jesus went to the room's lectern and reached behind it. He pulled out a small radio and keyed it. A moment later, Ryker answered.

"Cantrell, are we ready?" Jesus asked.

"I'll be able to cover you completely," Ryker replied. "Michael and I replaced all the heavy duty cameras with smaller hidden ones. Hard to spot. We can access the system remotely, drawing power from the solar panels hidden on the roof."

"What about the cars?"

"All ready and waiting. I passed out the keys, once you leave through the various emergency exits, the vehicles will be waiting. I've got cameras on all of them."

"What about you?" Dolores chimed in.

"Don't worry about me," Ryker answered, rather curtly. "I've got a way out."

"Okay, okay," Jesus relented. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, where the hell is Ian?" Ryker asked, sounding miffed. "Wasn't he going to help escort you guys out of town?"

"Michael, didn't you call Ian?" Jesus asked.

"Left a message," Lee replied, suddenly looking guilty. "Sorry, I was so caught up with last-minute stuff, I forgot to tell you. His phone went straight to voicemail."

"Well, Ian's a grown man," Dolores commented. "We'll call him when we're safely away."

"Say, Jesus," Ryker called out. "Remember that thing we talked about earlier? You don't suppose the right situation came up tonight, do you?"

Jesus looked at his wife in horror.

"Oh, God."

"What are we waiting for?" Diane asked, looking, around the empty warehouse.

She and Ian had arrived here a half hour earlier, the latest stop on a confusing evening. After leaving the café, they had gone to another warehouse only to see it surrounded by fire trucks. Then, Ian had taken her to another of his safehouses, where they made passionate love for almost an hour. And now, instead of cuddling, Ian had checked his cell phone three times and dragged her out to another warehouse.

"Ian, you're scaring me," Diane said, her voice edgy. "What are we doing here? You're not making some kind of drug deal, are you?"

Ian stepped out of a large office that had a single dust-covered metal desk, which was almost as dirty as the large window in front of it. He was very anxious and kept looking at his watch. It was clear he had something other than Diane's body on his mind.

"Ian, I swear, if you don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to walk out that door," Diane threatened.

Just then, Ian's phone buzzed. He answered it, listened and smiled broadly. With a puzzled Diane looking on, he cut the connection, shoved the phone back into its holder on his waist and walked up to her. Taking her by the shoulders, he gently guided her to the nearest wall.

"Diane, I know what you are," he said.

Diane suddenly shivered.

"W-what do you mean?" she stammered.

"I know Aurelia Hernandez put you up to this," Ian expounded. "She believed that I was something besides her friend and wanted you to find out. Of course, we both know that you are under the thrall of Lin Tang and her bite, so we know who's really pulling the strings on this whole charade."

Diane tried to pull away from Ian but he held firm. She refused to look at him, but he was constant and relentless in not letting her go. Finally, as tears began to flow from her eyes, she looked directly into his.

"Oh, Ian, I-I'm sorry," she cried. "You don't know what it's like. Th-the bite. Her bite. It's incredibly addictive. After she turns us, she...she lets us feel what it's like to not have it. It was so horrible; I vowed never to go through that experience again. I have to do what she tells me."

"And I'm here to tell you that you don't," Ian countered. "Can you listen to me for just one moment? Please."

Reluctantly, Diane nodded.

"I know you were sent here to spy on me," he began. "And, whatever Aurelia and Lin Tang told you, it's true. I do have friends who are enemies not just of Riordan, but vampires in general. They can help you."

"Really?"

"Yes. My friends have deep connections. They can cure you. Diane, you have to stop letting Lin Tang control you. There is a way out."

"Oh, really."

Diane looked up and screamed.

To read the rest of this book, please check out Hunters, available soon from Red Hot Publishing.

Author Bio

Gregory Marshall Smith, born in Somerville, Massachusetts and raised in historic Medford, is a decorated Navy veteran. In his career, he has been, among other things, a sports writer, a national columnist, playwright, engineer, asset protection agent, editor, safety auditor, fingerprinter, training instructor and sometime actor. He is the author of the novella Crawl and the anthology Dark Tidings. He has had numerous short stories appear in Farspace 2, Writer's Bump, Far Side of Midnight, Spectacular Speculations and SFH Dominion, among others.

Ever restless, he currently resides somewhere in America.
