Turned (13 page)

When he’d come back to himself and they’d told him that Naomi was dead, he’d screamed until his throat was raw. For a while, his sanity had completely left him.

But then things changed. Their vampire captors had herded a bunch of them into one room—including him, Peter, and Ben. The vampires had been freaked out, whispering that their location had been compromised, that maybe the FBI had found out they were double-crossing them, and that they had to transport everyone to another facility immediately, regardless of whether it was daytime or not.

That’s when Peter had revealed a huge secret—that he’d had a role in the FBI’s Turning Program and therefore had some knowledge about vampires, including the fact born vampires couldn’t survive direct contact with the sun; as such, it was a pretty safe bet the vampires transporting them would be turned vampires and thus easier to take down. The odds would be against them, especially given the torture they’d endured, but Ty, Peter, and Ben were hoping their extensive combat training would give them an edge. It had. As soon as they’d been shepherded outside the building, he and Peter and Ben had worked together to overpower the two turned vampires transporting them. Peter and Ty had managed to get away.

Ben had not. The last time Ty had seen him, he’d been pinned to the ground and shouting for them to run.

Peter had contacted Carly, another special agent working in the Turning Program, who got Mahone to arrange their transfer to a safe house. Eventually Ty and Peter had recovered. His freedom and the prospect of continuing his work as a special agent hadn’t miraculously fixed things, but it had eventually brought him back from the edge.

“It’s okay, Ty,” Peter said. “I know you loved her. That’s all that matters.”

When Ty again remained silent, Peter stared at him, long and hard, then sighed, obviously choosing not to pursue the subject. “Carly heard back from Mahone. Doesn’t matter if the queen knows about the FBI’s Turning Program; we’re to proceed as planned.”

Ty grunted. No surprise. The fact that he might have confirmed the Vampire Queen’s suspicions didn’t necessarily open up many new options for her. She was the leader of a hidden race, one that wanted to remain hidden. That meant she didn’t have a public forum to object to what the FBI had done behind her back. She
could still, however, take matters into her own hands. All they could hope was that she concentrated her resources on the Rogues rather than the FBI.

“Well, I’ve done my job recruiting the others. Collette, Barrett, and Justine are scheduled to arrive,” Peter continued. “You really think Ana will be able to teach them anything useful? I know they haven’t been assigned to any specific missions yet but—”

“She needs training herself. But I think Ana can demonstrate the finer points of street fighting.”

Peter was fully briefed on their first mission and as such he knew exactly what they were going to be asking of Ana. It wouldn’t involve her fighting anyone so much as fighting her own demons, which was often the more difficult challenge.

“So what’s going on with her? She coming in?”

Ty thought back to Ana’s phone call. She’d been upset. Grieving the loss of her friend Téa. She’d asked him if he’d had anything to do with it, and he’d been honest when he’d said he hadn’t, but
someone
had killed Téa. And it hadn’t been the pathetic drunk driver who’d been blamed for the car accident, either. Had it been Bobbie? Miguel? Officer Southcott? Someone else entirely?

One thing was for sure—Southcott wouldn’t be providing answers. The morning after he visited Ana, Southcott’s housecleaner had found him dead. The means of death had been a gunshot wound to the head, supposedly the result of a random home invasion. Ty wasn’t buying that, but he didn’t have a clue as to who had actually killed Southcott, or why, either.

He needed to talk things out with Peter, but suddenly Ty didn’t want to stay in this room. “I don’t want to sit on my ass,” he said abruptly. “Let’s get in some target practice and I’ll fill you in.”

Five minutes later, the wind whipped harshly across Ty’s face. The day was overcast, but even so, their skin
would eventually mottle and burn from the little sun that was shining through. If they stayed in the sun, they’d just keep burning. He wasn’t positive how much sustained exposure would actually kill him. In the past, he’d only managed to stand two hours of direct sun and the third-degree burns he had suffered had been excruciating.

Maybe the fact that they could survive even that much sunlight had something to do with their body temperatures. That was another trait they’d shared since being turned. On the other hand, their core body temperatures seemed to rise with each passing month. Eventually, he and Peter suspected they’d maintain a body temperature similar to born vampires, which was about five degrees warmer than human. What would happen then? Would they still be able to walk in the sun, or would they be confined to the dark, like born vampires? If so, that would be just one more reason to end things.

He gestured to Peter and they both lay down on the damp forest floor, their long-range rifles at their sides. As he did, Ty felt the gold medallion he’d been given by Lesander press against his body, still hidden beneath his shirt. He’d told Peter and Carly about his encounter with the vampires but he hadn’t told them about the medallion.

And he hadn’t been sure why.

Until now.

He turned to Peter.

“Read my thoughts.”

His friend looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“What?”

“You’ve been able to do it more consistently than I have.”

Peter looked insulted. “I’ve never tried to read yours. If you think otherwise then fuck you.” He started to get up, but Ty stayed him with a hand on his arm.

“No. I don’t think that. But tell me this. When you have tried to read minds, how many times have you been successful?”

Peter relaxed slightly, though he still continued to frown. “If I had to guess, eight out of ten.”

Ty nodded. “That’s a pretty good record. And that’s why I’m asking you to read my mind right now.”

“Why?” When Ty just continued to look at him, Peter rolled his eyes. “Fine.” The other vampire’s eyes grew more intense as he stared into Ty’s. Thirty seconds passed. A minute. Ty felt no tickling sensation.

Peter shrugged. “Nothing.”

Ty hummed. So the necklace actually worked. Unless this was just one of the rare times when Peter’s mind-reading powers failed him.

“You gonna tell me what that was about?”

Just testing this necklace that I got from another vampire. He said it’ll stop any vampire from reading my mind
.

That’s what Ty was about to say. But he didn’t. And again, he didn’t know why.

He just knew his gut was telling him to keep quiet. And for now, he was listening to it.

“Nope,” he said smoothly.

Of course, Peter appeared less than satisfied but he dropped the subject.

Ty pointed at a pine tree a ridiculous distance away, far enough to be a challenge to even two vampires with supersharp, extraordinary eyesight. “The challenge is to shoot the pinecone right where it joins the limb. There’s a one- to three-inch shaft, and if you hit it just right, the pinecone drops. Ten points for each dropped pinecone. Five points for every pinecone you obliterate on the tree. Zero points for hitting the tree. Negative points if you have to use a scope.”

“You’re on,” Peter said, hefting his rifle up to his shoulder and aiming.

They’d downed five pinecones each before they took a break to reload. Ty finally told Peter about Ana’s phone call and what she’d learned about Téa Montgomery. “So what do you think?”

“My bet’s on Miguel being behind it,” Peter said. “He probably used Bobbie or Southcott as his hired gun.”

Ty shifted, aimed, and shot, only to destroy the pinecone while it was still on the tree. Damn.

“But why kill Téa Montgomery?” he asked. “And why now?”

Peter proceeded to execute several successful shots before turning to Ty. “You think Bobbie Hernandez tried to pop you to protect Ana, right?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t around when we were in the alley, but I continued to smell him after he left the coffee shop. He was close by. Maybe just outside. He probably saw me wrestling with her.”

“You sure that’s all he saw you doing?”

Ty remembered the way he’d kissed her and his silence was a deafening admission of guilt.

“Anyway, Téa and Ana were friends.”

“But she hadn’t seen her since her last parole check-in a couple of months earlier. Why would Miguel move on her when he did? Why at all?”

“You talked to Téa about Ana, didn’t you? Used her to fill in your research?”

“Yes.”

“Téa gave you answers because she knew Carly and trusted her. It wasn’t part of her job. In fact, what she told you was probably illegal.”

Peter handed him a thermos of animal blood. Ty took a swig, then wiped his mouth. Drinking animal blood settled the unease that ate at his gut every day, but it never seemed to satisfy like a good steak or fish-and-chips
had when he’d been alive. He’d never had enough to know, but he’d bet if he drank human blood on a steady basis, the hollow feeling in his gut would completely disappear.

But since that wasn’t going to happen, he forced himself to focus on what Peter was saying.

“So Téa betrayed Ana by giving us info about her, and Miguel offed her. But how would he even know?”

“The same way he knew you and Ana had ‘wrestled.’ Maybe he had her office wired,” Peter replied. “Or had someone watching her. You ever check Ana’s prison records?”

“She was a model inmate.”

“How about the records of her cell mates? Of anyone who’d talked to her? Given her a bad time? Maybe even a guard.”

“No. Why?”

“What’s to say Miguel didn’t have eyes and ears in prison, too? In two years, somebody had to have harassed Ana. And chances are they probably paid for it. You should see if you can find proof.”

“Jesus. You really think so?”

“It’s a long-shot theory, but if it’s true, what does that tell you about how our man Miguel feels about Ana?”

Ty pondered the question for a few seconds. “He not only loves her, he’s obsessed with her. He’s watched over her for seven years. And he’d hurt or kill anyone who hurts her and not think twice about it.”

“That’s right. And a man obsessed with a woman is the most dangerous kind there is. And yet the plan is for Ana to catch his eye so he’ll invite you into Salvation’s Crossing. You really think she can handle something like that?”

“Maybe not now, but when we’re done with her, yes. Besides, it’s entirely possible that Miguel’s not as dangerous
as he thinks he is. He had a chance to kill me and he failed,” Ty pointed out.

“Something in your tone tells me you regret that. You would rather have died?” Peter asked. “That day? Six months ago?”

“Damn right,” he gritted out. “Dying was supposed to happen. Just like it was supposed to happen when Officer Southcott shot me. And numerous times before that.”

“Hmmm,” Peter intoned, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him. “Well, I for one am glad I didn’t die. If that makes me some kind of sick fuck, so be it.”

“You’ve also been a vampire for six months. Let’s see how you feel in a few decades. Maybe in a century. Something tells me living without really being alive’s gonna feel a lot like trying to eat a hologram of a slice of cake. There, but not there. I am not looking forward to it.”

“But you’re looking forward to catching the bastards responsible for all this, aren’t you? ’Cause I certainly am. When you start thinking about wanting to die, force yourself to think of that instead.”

“Vengeance won’t bring back my sister. Or my humanity. But—you’re right. It’s something,” Ty agreed. Right now, it was everything.

He fired again and dropped several more pinecones. Peter did the same.

“Score’s dead even. You want to keep going or call it a day?”

Peter grimaced. “My skin’s starting to burn. Let’s go in and you can tell me more about your girl.”

Your girl
. That was the second time that Peter had referred to Ana in that way.

Despite Ty’s misgivings, the words sounded right.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

Deep within the recesses of Building T, Mahone watched
from behind a one-way mirror as Mike Polanski, a twenty-five-year-old army vet who’d had his legs blown off in Afghanistan, ran around the track of a full indoor gymnasium. The guy was grinning from ear to ear, and for a moment, Mahone wanted to grin with him. He didn’t.

Mike Polanski was now a turned vampire.

Just like the turned vampires that had come before and after him, no one knew how he’d been turned, just that he’d been delivered that way by the Rogues that had been doing the FBI’s bidding.

Turning Polanski into a vampire hadn’t made his legs magically grow back, but what it had done was give him amazing strength and speed. The fact that he had to use prosthetic legs was irrelevant. Even with the prosthetics, he still moved faster than any human. Was stronger than any human. And for a man who’d been on the verge of suicide when Mahone had found him, that was an amazing accomplishment.

This was why he’d supported the FBI Turning Program from the beginning. Because it was achieving some incredibly positive things.

And when the program had been threatened, he’d agreed to act as the FBI’s liaison to Belladonna. So that the Rogues didn’t mess everything up.

Only lately …

Mahone couldn’t deny it. He was starting to have doubts about what they were doing and whether they should be doing it at all.

Polanski was running again because the FBI was tampering with forces it knew nothing about. His speed and strength were the equivalent of playing with fire.

Hell no. Not even that. They were the equivalent of playing with an atomic bomb.

The program was based on experimentation and on keeping secrets from the Vampire Queen. Now two vampires had attacked Ty Duncan. They had probably already told their queen about the FBI’s duplicity.