Salvation: Immortal Soulless, #7

By Tanith Frost

Welcome to judgement day

Aviva had hoped her return to Maelstrom would follow the downfall of her enemies, proving her worth and setting the stage for a time of peace—or what passes for peace in the blood-soaked world of vampires. Instead she finds herself the bearer of more questions than answers and bringing news of a coming invasion.

She has her power, her gifts, and a few remaining allies, but with Maelstrom tearing itself apart from within and an enemy who always seems to be two steps ahead, what chance does Aviva have of saving the world from the darkness that threatens to overtake it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sparrowcat Press
• Release date: Oct 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781989614044

Book preview

1

Something is wrong.

It’s not just the flicker of the fluorescent lights outside this old gas station, though they’re irritating enough that I’d smash every last bulb if we weren’t trying to keep our presence quiet. And it’s not the wind in the trees, even if it rubs the branches together in gusts of creaks and clacks.

There’s something else. Nothing I can see, hear, or smell, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

I pace away from Daniel, keeping one ear on his end of his conversation with Miranda. As I open myself to perceptions that run deeper than my physical senses, the mid-December chill cuts through the navy-blue parka I lifted from the cabin where Daniel and I holed up after our narrow escape from our enemies’ underground lair.

No, they’re… I suppose you could call them that, Daniel says. He sounds exhausted, but even if Miranda picks up on that, she can’t understand how badly off he really is. Sunglasses he found in a closet at the cabin can cover the dark circles under his eyes, but the shadows of his hood can’t fully hide the healing gash on his forehead or the nearly faded bruise on his cheek. He hasn’t told her any of this. He wouldn’t consider it important, especially compared to the other news he needs to pass along to our clan’s high elder. Dead humans, yes. Moving about, chasing us… No, there didn’t seem to be much going on in their minds, but they’re fast, and sharp enough to know they want to hurt vampires. He reaches up to rub the back of his neck and winces, then lowers his arm. I’m not sure whether they’re a threat to the living. We should assume they are until we know otherwise, but I don’t think there’s any chance it’s a contagious—yes, exactly.

This is what I came to Ontario for—to find out what this enemy clan has planned for our own, to get Daniel the hell out of there after he was captured. None of it was easy. We left with only a vague idea of Tempest’s plans and the absolute certainty that they’re going to act within the next few nights. I nearly lost myself in the process, coming closer than I ever have to letting myself become a true monster, as cold and cruel as any vampire who’s walked this world before me.

Yet here I am. Here we are. Not safe, but on our way.

But that’s a big but.

I move silently, creeping through the night, circling around to the back of the gas station from the far side. We were lucky to find a public phone Daniel could make this call from. Collect, of course—we left Tempest’s stronghold with nothing but the clothes on our backs and what was left of our will to survive. No cash, no credit cards. Finding the car we stole was a stroke of luck, but one full tank of gas won’t get us home.

That’s Daniel’s concern for the moment, though. Mine is to watch his back. We’re still in enemy territory, and the odds of Lachlan letting us slip away are as good as nonexistent.

I fed recently and am feeling strong despite last night’s stress and exhaustion. But I’m not at my best. I tried to stay up all day to keep watch, poking around in the cabin, searching for clothing and supplies when I was sure Daniel was asleep.

I’m tired. I’m on edge. And I pity anyone who gets in my way tonight.

It would be easier to feel what’s wrong if I closed my eyes, but I’m not about to risk it when we could have dozens of vampires hunting for us. The strongest among us have a range of gifts, and some, like Daniel, are eerily good at hiding the power that would allow others to sense their presence. Even a vampire like me, who feels not only the void that animates us but also other powers, can be fooled.

Still nothing. Maybe I was wrong. It’s easy to let every moving shadow throw me into a panic when the world is this dangerous.

I’m on my way back to Daniel when I catch it—not power, but movement in the darkness of the forest behind the gas station. It’s only then, with my focus on the right place, that I feel him.

Vampire.

Enemy.

My right hand closes around the weapon in my pocket, one of four rough wooden stakes we carved late this afternoon from the legs of a kitchen chair using an axe and kitchen knives. Two of them are in the car; Daniel has the other. I pretend I didn’t see anything and continue my scouting.

We will, Daniel says into the phone and raises his eyebrows at me. I’m being watched. I can’t say anything. Instead, I give the slightest nod over my shoulder and head back to the car. I don’t enter, but duck down out of sight on the other side, open the door, and close it hard. I hide my own power as well as I can, first letting the void rise to cover the werewolf fire that scarred me more than a year ago, then letting the void settle until I can barely feel it in myself. All the while, I watch from behind the rear bumper. A pale face flashes above dark clothes within the bushes. He has gaunt cheeks, blond hair spiked like Billy Idol’s. He’s focused on Daniel, who’s playing his part, acting oblivious to the danger and effectively holding the enemy’s attention.

There are no plumes of breath to give the enemy away, and I still wouldn’t be able to see him if I didn’t know where to look. He’s a good hunter. And he has no idea that he’s just become my prey.

I slip into the bushes behind the car and circle around through the trees, moving as quickly as I can without making any noise, alert to signs that he’s not alone. They must be spread pretty thin to have someone searching this far out, but I’m not going to let assumptions fuck me over if I can help it.

Heavy leather jacket. I won’t have a clean shot at Billy Idol’s heart from behind. That’s fine. I don’t want to send him to oblivion until we get some information.

He’s still watching Daniel as I creep up behind him, stake in hand. He’s like a cat watching a juicy bird on the lawn, choosing the right moment to pounce. But he’s too late. I scan the parking lot one more time to make sure there are no humans around to hear the commotion, then come up beside him and tackle the vampire to the ground, forcing him deeper into the cover of the forest.

He obviously didn’t feel me coming, but he recovers quickly. He’s strong, as we all are, and quick. He throws punches with one hand while the other reaches into the pocket of his jacket.

Like hell, I mutter. My fists aren’t large, but there’s more power behind them than most enemies expect when they size me up. The punch I land on his nose is enough to make him pause for a split second, just long enough for me to pin his wrist and drive my stake through the exposed skin below the armour-like cuff of his jacket. He snarls, bucks, and throws me off—but I’ve got his gun.

I roll to my feet and train it on him. Hands in the air.

Very original, Aviva. Well done.

Billy remains on the ground and lifts his hands above his head, palms up.

Sit up. Slowly.

He complies, not shifting his focus until he glances behind me. I’d look, too, afraid that he had a partner who’d decided to join the party, if Daniel wasn’t letting me feel him clearly. I shiver as the void channelled through him moves over my skin. He’s so good at hiding his true self that it’s still a shock when he reveals this—his true nature, dark and cold and hungry, the monster hiding beneath a beautiful exterior that looks human until you notice the predatory chill in his hazel eyes and the graceful strength in every movement.

Everything good? I ask him without taking my eyes off our new friend.

Relatively speaking. What have we here? Few words, spoken like regular conversation, but there’s a threat in his voice that makes me glad I’m not the one lying on the ground.

You don’t piss Daniel off. Not if you don’t want to see what really lies beneath the surface.

That’s the question, isn’t it? I prod Billy with the toe of my boot as Daniel steps into view beside him and takes off his sunglasses.

I know this one, Daniel says. He spends a lot of time among Tempest’s higher-ups. Dressing down tonight, I see. Suits you.

Billy just sneers.

Speak up, now, I tell him. I can probably guess who sent you, but I want to hear it from your lips.

He glares up at us. You’re not going to make it out of here. Everyone is looking for you.

Everyone? No one’s planning anything else? Little vacation to Newfoundland? Daniel crosses his arms. And I mean, sure, he looks a little funny in the oversized red parka he’s wearing—like Santa Claus shaved his beard and hit the gym hard last year—but nobody’s laughing.

The fuck would I know about that?

Daniel chuckles, low and cold, and delivers a kick that would have a human peeing blood for the next week. It won’t injure Billy anything like that badly; we vampires are made of stronger stuff and have little need for most of the organs we held on to after our death. Still, he snarls and rolls onto his side. We do feel the pain.

Daniel crouches and rubs a hand over his jaw. What do you think, Aviva?

I think it’s possible that he doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t feel as powerful as most of the higher-ups. Lachlan might not tell him shit.

Billy glowers at me but doesn’t seem to have anything to add.

No, Daniel says. But he spends time with them. He probably keeps his ears open. Anyone who survives for long in Tempest makes a habit of it.

My fingers tighten around the stake. We need to get out of here.

We will, soon enough. Daniel forces Billy onto his back and holds his arms over his head, and I drop to my knees, pinning his legs. Poor old Billy is struggling, but I grit my teeth and hold him down for long enough that I can unzip his jacket, leaving his chest vulnerable beneath his black t-shirt.

His deep blue eyes go wide, showing the whites. Something inside me awakens—something dark, something that responds to this enemy’s fear and wants nothing more than to watch him piss himself here on this forest floor.

No, don’t, he gasps. I—I can tell you something. I can help you.

Daniel frowns down at him. You have ten seconds to convince us.

A plane. Billy pauses and takes a longer and harder breath than a dead man should reasonably need. I overheard something about a plane leaving tonight. Going to Newfoundland, like you said.

New-FOUND-land. I may not be from the island, but I’ve been around long enough for it to grate when people mispronounce it like that.

And? Daniel asks. He looks down at him, trying to make eye contact, but Bill here refuses, going so far as to squeeze his eyes closed.

It seems someone in Tempest figured out Daniel’s other gift. And we tried so hard to hide it, too.

Daniel rests his knees on Billy’s wrists and pulls out a knife I didn’t realize he was carrying. It’s small, but sharp, and does the trick as Daniel presses it to Billy’s throat, releasing a few drops of his pale, dead blood. We’re going to need you to do better than that. Look at me.

You don’t know what they’ll do to me if I help you. Billy’s voice trembles.

Daniel’s jaw muscles flex. I do. Believe me. If you help us, this ends relatively painlessly for you. If not, I swear we’ll deliver you to them ourselves on our way out of the province, and we’ll make sure they know we owe you one. He knows what he’s threatening. He saw members of our clan—vampires whose safety he was responsible for—tortured and facing God knows what else before Bethany decided she wanted to study him. Now, look at me.

Billy opens his eyes slowly, one at a time. As soon as his gaze is locked on Daniel’s, he relaxes.

Good, Daniel says, his voice soothing. We’re friends, right? You want to tell us everything you heard. I bet you’ve been searching for a way to hurt those higher-up vampires who think they’re so much better than you.

Billy grits his teeth. Not one of ’em earned what they’ve got. Not one works as hard as I do.

Of course they don’t. Assholes, every one of them. So why guard their secrets?

I watch, keeping silent so as not to break whatever spell it is that Daniel weaves when he does this—when he changes minds and alters memories, subduing weaker enemies, making them vulnerable to attack, to forgetting what they were doing before they looked into his eyes. It’s not a unique gift, but it’s one I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing in action.

Billy’s still fighting it—I can see it in his eyes. There’s an airfield not far off, he whispers. Very private. Couldn’t say where. And you’ll never make it in time even if I could tell you. Plane’s leaving tonight, going to… I don’t remember. Swan Lake or something. He lets out a hysterical bark of a laugh, and a tear leaks from one eye. I hope Lachlan catches both of you and makes you suffer.

Daniel looks to me. I’ll call Miranda back, see if they can have someone scan satellite images from the area to find what we’re looking for. They can’t very well put an entire airfield underground.

Good.

Neither of us moves. Daniel and I both know what needs to be done. In the past, I’d have left him to it, letting him bear the shame and guilt he’s always seemed to feel less acutely than I do when it comes to harming enemies. It wasn’t so long ago that he had to snap a human’s neck because I froze, unwilling to kill her when she was so clearly intent on killing me. It was nothing to him and everything to me.

But that was before my time in Tempest, before I learned to be harder, stronger, and more ruthless than I ever thought myself capable of.

Daniel’s got enough blood on his hands. I won’t ask him to do this for me. Not when I’m capable of taking this burden on myself.

Something shifts within me as I let myself become more like Ava—my own Mr. Hyde, the aspect of myself that kept my secrets and embraced the ambition and darkness that served me so well during my time in Tempest. She feels no shame about seeing this enemy pay for trying to hurt us, and she sure as hell doesn’t have any problem with doing what she must to make sure Daniel and I both get safely back to Maelstrom even if it means this asshole is snuffed entirely from existence.

We vampires possess no souls, have no hope of heaven. No hell, either, which is probably a blessing for all of us at this point.

I brace myself and plunge the stake into Billy’s heart as quickly and cleanly as I can.

Billy gasps and bucks beneath me. His skin wrinkles, his blue eyes pale, his hair turns grey and then white. Daniel and I release him and back away a few paces, leaving him free to arch his back and move as he wishes as the strength drains from his muscles.

Damn you to hell, Billy gasps. Then his body crumbles to ash that fades to nothingness before the wind has a chance to carry it away.

Daniel clenches his fists and squeezes his eyes closed, then digs the car keys out of his pocket and gathers the clothes Billy left behind.

I don’t quite catch what he says as he turns his back on the scene of our crime, but it sounds a lot like, Buddy, we’re already there.

2

T hink that’s it?

Daniel glances around. I don’t see any other planes. Either we’re right, or we’re fucked. He sounds not at all concerned about this.

So maybe his will to survive hasn’t fully recovered, but the fact that he’s here is something. It means he’s let go of the lies he told himself during his time in Tempest, that he’s decided to trust Miranda again. It can’t have been easy. He had to get to a place where he could tell Lachlan, without lying, that he’d turned his back on Maelstrom and everyone there including me. That meant letting his lies become truth. I only dipped my toe in those waters and nearly lost myself. I can only imagine what it’s taken for him to come back after giving up completely.

Despite what must amount to a case of mental whiplash, he sounded fine on the phone with Miranda. Not excited or relieved. That’s Daniel, though. All business when shit needs doing. And Miranda came through for us, ordering the searches Daniel requested, locating a remote airfield not marked on any maps.

And we may have just made it. The craft looks like a regular mid-sized passenger plane, but it’s been converted with a larger door into the passenger area to allow them to load long wooden crates. They’re preparing the last of them for transport now. From our position beside the runway, the open cargo doors below are visible, still open. The humans are all busy above and ahead.

Shall we? I ask.

Now or never, I suppose.

We run at a crouch, darting through the shadows, keeping out of sight until we’ve reached the loading door. Noise is less of a concern; the engines are running, drowning out footsteps and voices. They’ve moved their rickety old ramp slightly away from the door, but we take it anyway—the jump is short enough and easier than attempting to climb.

So far, so good. The humans seem oblivious to our presence, and aside from dozens of crates, the space seems to be empty.

For now, at least. We’re going to need a hiding place, and soon.

Daniel scouts ahead, weaving between the crates that are stacked three high and four across, forming close-set islands of cargo held in place by nets attached to the floor. Whatever it is, they’re hauling a lot of it; we only saw them load a few of the boxes into the passenger area, but there have to be fifty or sixty here in the cargo hold.

I brush a finger over the rough wooden planks of a crate that’s stamped with DEER LAKE in thick black paint.

Swan Lake. Nice try, Billy. At least we know we’re heading in the right direction even if this is the wrong plane.

They’re an odd shape, these boxes. Only a few feet wide and high, but about six long. Almost like…

I squeeze my eyes closed and focus everything in me on perceiving powers that might betray the presence of vampires, but whatever’s in the boxes isn’t giving me anything. At least there’s that.

Daniel motions to me from behind a stack of crates, and I follow him toward the front of the plane, then to our left when we reach a wall with a door in the centre. He’s found a small counter with cupboards above and below. It’s hardly larger than a kitchen island, but once we’ve moved a few boxes out and hidden them behind a stack of crates, it looks as if we can both fit if we squeeze in. It’ll be tight, though.

I’m about to go looking for another spot when voices reach me from the rear of the cargo hold. Daniel folds his long limbs into our hiding spot, and I fit myself around him, wedging my legs between his and pulling myself into a tight ball, knees to chin, shuffling over so he can pull the doors closed.

The voices are muffled, their presence brief. Both human. That would be good news if they found us, but it does nothing to reassure me that we’re on the right flight. If Billy was telling the truth about a plane flying from here to Newfoundland, surely it would at least be carrying some troops, if not Lachlan himself.

I don’t feel any vampires, I say. I’m not whispering. There’s no chance of anyone hearing me.

Should you if they’re in the cabin?

I guess not.

A dull clang rings through the cargo hold, and the sound of the engines becomes muffled.

Daniel shifts slightly. Too late to change our minds, anyway.

The plane lurches and rolls forward. I close my eyes and focus on the movement, the momentum, the vibrations of the floor beneath us. We’re airborne. Those loud thunks are probably the landing gear coming up. Nothing to worry about, but it all feels so unstable, so primitive and dangerous down here compared to my experiences flying as a proper passenger when I was alive.

You okay? I ask.

Bit cramped. If those humans are gone, we should be able to get out to stretch and take a look around.

That’s not at all what I meant, and I think he knows it. I want to know why he hasn’t said a word about what happened last night, why he locked the bathroom door when he showered before we left the cabin. I’m glad he’s focused on our mission, but I suspect he’s using it to avoid more personal problems. Daniel’s one of the strongest vampires I’ve ever met… I just hope this isn’t a case where giants fall harder than lesser beings.

We level off after a few minutes, and Daniel pushes the catch inside the cupboard door to release us. The plane shudders as he’s finding his footing, so I grab his arm to steady him.

He pulls away, then glances down at me. He must catch something in my expression—my confusion, concern, or the twinge of hurt that I have no right to feel—and mutters a quick thank-you accompanied by a thin smile that does little to ease my mind. We’re on the job now and should keep things professional, but it wasn’t so long ago that he’d have taken any excuse for physical contact, letting my touch linger longer than was necessary.

Wounds don’t heal overnight, I remind myself. And he’s used to licking them on his own. If he needs space, there’s no point taking it personally.

You want to stay here and get some rest? I ask.

He shakes his head and makes his way between the stacks of boxes.

A single row of dim lights illuminates the space, leaving deep shadows between the crates. But it’s enough to read by, and every box is stamped with a location. I start at the back of the plane and find eight marked for Deer Lake, but I can’t read what’s on those trapped next to the wall.

Daniel approaches, stepping over and between the nets holding everything in place. This should make things easier. He holds up a clipboard with several sheets of printed paper. Shipping manifest… sort of.

Any indication of what’s in the boxes?

Unfortunately, no. And no information on who’s sending or receiving them, either. But every page lists a location and a series of— He pauses and looks over the crate at eye-level beside him. Here. Each one has a four-digit code.

Which means someone’s making doubly sure they all get to the right place, I guess. But that doesn’t tell us anything if we don’t know what’s in them.

I look past the crates, taking in the interior of the plane. It’s unusual—at least, I think it is. I haven’t spent much time in cargo holds before. The fact that it feels pressurized doesn’t surprise me, but the temperature does. It’s cool, but comfortable. Even the humidity feels as it would above. Less unpleasantly dry than most planes, actually. Not luxurious surroundings, but controlled.

A soft banging noise echoes through the space. Daniel sets the clipboard on the floor, and without another word, we move deep into the shadows and crouch between two stacks beside the plane’s outer wall. A click, a thump, and a creak follow from toward the plane’s nose.

The door. They must have access from above.

Daniel rests his forearms on his knees, appearing relaxed save for the stony chill in his eyes and the way he’s balled his hands into fists.

The faint, familiar scent of our prey species touches the air. I’d have known our visitor was human without it, though. His footsteps are too heavy and graceless to belong to a vampire.

And he’s whistling. I catch a glimpse of him as he passes our hiding spot—short, balding, dressed in navy-blue pants and shirt.

When he reaches the rear of the plane, the whistling stops. I tense, ready for a fight if we’ve been found out, but the human turns and walks back in the direction he came from. Still, I don’t relax until the door has groaned shut again.

Security check? Daniel asks.

Seems like it. I don’t think he did anything else while he was down here. That gives us what, twenty minutes between patrols?

If they’re that organized about it. We might have more if he was just making sure nothing shifted during takeoff. Less if there’s more to it than that. He frowns at the crates. You’d still feel vampires if they were sleeping in there, right?

My stomach tightens.

It would be a lot harder, I admit. But yeah, I should get something. Besides, this would be a weird way to ship them. I can’t imagine a vampire consenting to be transported in such an undignified manner. Look. They’re nailed shut.

The sardonic lift of Daniel’s left eyebrow is a welcome glimpse of his usual self. Because Lachlan is known for caring about the desires and comforts of less-important members of his clan?

I shake my head. It’s a nighttime flight. They’d be awake. Unless… I shrug. Only one way to find out what’s in there, I guess. You didn’t happen to find a crowbar while you were looking around, did you?

I did, in fact. Just over our cozy little hiding spot. See whether you can find any crates that look more accessible than these ones.

There’s only one obvious spot, a stack of eight crates marked for Marystown stacked only two deep. The netting holding them down is attached to the floor with heavy carabiners—sturdy, but easy enough to remove so I can expose the top boxes before I climb onto them.

When Daniel returns with the crowbar and a large rubber mallet, I nod toward the rear of the plane. The human took the clipboard.

Eight to Marystown, ten to Corner Brook, thirteen to Twillingate, seven to Stephenville, thirteen to Gander… I could go on. He glances around at the boxes that surround us, then wedges the crowbar under the lid of the box closest to him. About seventy in total, which means the list includes what they’ve got stowed above. Knowing that should give us an advantage, whatever else happens.

Assuming we’re not on the wrong plane and these boxes aren’t full of ramen noodles or party supplies, sure. Hang on.

He freezes as if he thinks I’ve heard something. It’s not that, though.

It’s the smell. Faint and familiar. Sulphurous, but sweet.

My mouth goes dry. Go ahead, I whisper. Slowly.

He makes quick work of it. There are no locks or mechanisms to hold the crates closed besides hinges along one side and a few nails along the other—whoever packed them is interested in keeping them safe, not worried about containing whatever is within. And there’s nothing moving inside, even when Daniel makes enough space for light to enter through the crack.

I wish that made me feel better.

He glances up at me, and I nod. He braces the heels of his hands under the lid and pushes up, and I catch it before it can swing up and hit me in the shins.

When I look down into the box, my knees go weak.

They’re not crates. They’re coffins, each one holding not a vampire, but a human body. Not breathing, not living, but I don’t imagine they’re truly dead. The burns on this one, bad enough that the skin on the face is charred black in places, mark him as one of those that chased Daniel and me as we escaped Tempest’s stronghold.

Whatever Tempest’s plan is, their secret weapon isn’t vampires.

It’s an army of zombies.

3

At least he’s not moving. Small blessing, but I’ll grab at anything at the moment.

Daniel looks the body over for a few seconds, then glances around at the dozens of similar crates that surround us. "What are the odds that the others actually are all filled with ramen noodles and party supplies?"

I want to be glad that he’s attempting a joke, but I can’t muster even a forced smile. How many did you say?

Around seventy total. Far more than we saw in that room last night.

Neither of us dares touch the body. We don’t know what’s keeping it still, or what will wake it up. The faint chill of the cargo hold seems to penetrate to my bones, and I shiver. I don’t feel anything from these creatures—not life, not void, not any other power that would identify them as anything but garden-variety corpses. If I hadn’t seen them myself, running and snapping and clawing, I’d find it hard to believe this one would ever open its eyes again.

But I have no doubt it will. Unless Lachlan’s plan is to do a fly-over cargo drop of flash-barbecued human flesh, these things will be on the move again soon enough.

Daniel checks the watch he took from the cabin, a heavy chrome affair that looks as if its owner can probably afford a replacement. We’d better get this cleaned up if we want to be hidden before the next patrol.

There’s a question there. Do we want to be hidden? It’s not our only option.

I push the lid back toward him, and he eases it down, hiding the horror within, and passes me the mallet. A few quick hits set the nails back in place before I lower myself to the floor and help resecure the net. Everything looks the same as it did a few minutes ago, though everything has changed.

My mind races as we make our way back to our cramped hiding spot beneath the counter. We leave the doors open, unwilling to cram ourselves in before we have to, and sit side by side with our feet on the floor.

It doesn’t make sense. I push my hair back from my face and slump against the wall. "These things aren’t soldiers. They barely seem conscious. Even if Lachlan can control them, even if other vampires can control them, they’re not going to be more effective than vampires against Maelstrom."

More disposable, maybe? Daniel shakes his head, answering his own question. I don’t suspect Lachlan would be too put out about losing any number of lower-ranking clan members if it gets him what he wants. We do know that these things are vampire-aggressive, though. That they won’t stop once the attack has begun even if it means they don’t survive.

Especially then, maybe, I add, remembering the lightless human who beat his own head in trying to get at Bethany and me, and the ones willing to blow themselves up when it seemed their only way out. I doubt a little thing like death has altered their desire to end their misery, and battling against vampires would be an effective way to end things. So what, then? The vampires are coming on another plane, and these are… cannon fodder? A weird kind of weapon?

Daniel frowns at the stack of boxes in front of us marked for Corner Brook. And why multiple attack sites when we’re all in town? The threats to secrecy alone would be… He turns to me.

Fuck.

He wouldn’t, I say, so quietly Daniel probably has to lip-read to understand me over the sound of the plane’s engines. Lachlan thinks he has a rightful claim to these lands. He’s not going to risk pissing off other clans by exposing all of us—not when he’s going to need their support if he’s planning to come in and take over. But the words ring hollow even as