Part 30 (1/2)

”Or before I forced your hand,” he said, his eyes narrowing, trying to follow us both.

He didn't move, which was smart. I wasn't visibly armed, but Adrian was holding the major's own .38, aimed steadily at its owner.

The old man's eyes darted back and forth between us. Me immediately in front of him. Adrian off to the right, holding point by the hallway. ”Forced my hand?” I said, sitting down slowly on the edge of his mahogany coffee table. It put me about ten feet away from him. This is to say, I was outside his his immediate lunging distance...but he was well within immediate lunging distance...but he was well within mine mine. ”I don't know what, precisely, you think you forced. I just got tired of it, that's all.”

”Bulls.h.i.+t.”

”Think whatever you want. I'm not afraid of you,” I said in all honesty. ”Even though I know what you've done. What you're trying to do again.”

”You don't have any idea what we were about-what we were doing,” he objected.

I shook my head. ”I'll admit we don't know all the ins and outs, but we've read enough of your paper trail to have a pretty d.a.m.n good idea.”

”If that were true, you wouldn't be here.”

I sat up straighter. Then I leaned back on my hands-like he'd surprised me, but I was prepared to roll with it. ”Wow. It's all or nothing with you, isn't it? Meet me in the middle ground for a minute, will you? I have some follow-up questions.”

He snorted. ”And you think I might answer them?”

”It depends on how badly you want to survive this little meeting.”

His eyes slipped over to a bookcase off to my left. That's because he kept a big knife there, a cousin to the carbon steel foot-long that I gave up and let Adrian keep. I let Bruner look, and didn't call attention to it. Why bother? I'd already swiped it, to replace the aforementioned carbon steel foot-long. It was the only piece of weaponry I was carrying at that particular moment, but it didn't matter. We all knew I didn't need it in order to bring him a whole lot of discomfort.

”You don't have any intention of letting me out of here.”

I told him, ”It's smart of you to suspect that. But it's all going to come down to how useful we think you are, and how good your information is. If we'd seriously wanted you dead and nothing else, your B-positive would be all over that screen right now. And you can take that to the bank.”

He swallowed. ”What do you want to know?”

”That's the spirit! Let's begin at the beginning,” I suggested. ”Project Bloodshot.”

”What about it?” he asked. Working hard to stay cool as a cuc.u.mber. Neither completely succeeding nor utterly failing.

Adrian chimed in, ”It closed, but it didn't die. Just like you retired, but you didn't go away.”

”Sounds like you already know all about it,” Bruner snapped.

But Adrian said, ”No, not all about it. I don't know what really happened to Isabelle deJesus.”

”Who?”

”My sister. Subject 636-40-150. Her name was Isabelle. She was a vampire. You kidnapped her-”

”No,” he interrupted, but Adrian didn't let him get any other words in edgewise.

”You experimented on her. You took her hearing, like you took Ian Stott's vision. Why?”

Bruner snorted. ”What do you mean, why? It was just a job, same as any other except that it was so d.a.m.n interesting. The combat applications of their...of your”-he nodded at me-”abilities. They were epic. They were paradigm-s.h.i.+fting if we could harness them for the military. And anyway, who gives a s.h.i.+t? You're You're the monsters, and you'd do worse to us, given half a chance. I've known some of your kind. I've seen what you do, to yourselves and people like us.” the monsters, and you'd do worse to us, given half a chance. I've known some of your kind. I've seen what you do, to yourselves and people like us.”

”Monsters? Is that what you think? We're none of us more monstrous than we were before we turned. If you don't want to believe that, then I won't make you, but you ought to be kicking yourself, you know. It's a h.e.l.l of an opportunity you've squandered. You should've just recruited some of us on the up-and-up, but now that's never going to happen. There's not a vamp on earth who'd have anything to do with you, now.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a sneer of irony-the worst kind of sneer, in my opinion. ”Is that what you think?”

Well, yeah yeah...but I refused to show him that I knew I might be wrong. I asked, ”After Bloodshot went belly-up, why'd you start it again?”

”That's a complicated answer.”

”Break it down for me,” I said, hoping I injected the command with a hearty dose of menace.

”I, personally, didn't reopen the d.a.m.n thing. Surely you can understand that, can't you? I was just a guy collecting a paycheck. I didn't have the authority or the resources to take it elsewhere.”

It almost made me sad, how calm and cool he was. This was a guy who'd been under fire before-literally, I imagined-and he'd come out the other side as a guy I could almost like like, if he weren't a total f.u.c.king maniac. My initial impressions held true. We were more alike than either of us would've admitted. I cast a glance at Adrian, still keeping his distance, and still just as tense but calm as the rest of us. I wondered if he was thinking along those same lines, or if he was too angry with the major to identify with him in any way.

As if my glance had given Adrian a nudge, he asked the next question. ”Then who did did pull the trigger? Who paid to launch it as a civilian operation?” pull the trigger? Who paid to launch it as a civilian operation?”

He smirked. The son of a b.i.t.c.h actually smirked smirked. ”I don't know the whole answer to that,” he flat-out lied. Then he said, directly to me, ”But what I do know, you you won't like.” won't like.”

”There's not much about you or your program I do do like, so whatever you want to spill, I think I can take it,” I replied. like, so whatever you want to spill, I think I can take it,” I replied.

His hands waved casually, idly...like he was trying to remember a recipe for soup. ”I never heard the whole story, but I do know he's one of yours. yours.”

”One of...what?”

”He's like you. Undead, or whatever.”

”Why would a vampire fund something as bizarre and f.u.c.ked up as Bloodshot?” I demanded to know. ”That doesn't make any sense-”

”He's a real self-hater. Didn't want to become like you. It was forced on him, as a punishment for something-and don't ask. Because I don't know what. what.”

”No.” I shook my head, taking my eyes off him for an instant, then remembering myself and locking down his gaze again. ”No, that's not true. That's not how it works with my kind. The Houses don't turn people to punish them. It's a gift. A reward.”

”It's not much of a reward if they mutilate you first. Eternal life is pretty s.h.i.+tty if you can't see, or hear-or taste or smell. Really, honey. That's my idea of h.e.l.l.”

He had my interest now and he knew it, but he'd told me more than he meant to-and he didn't know that that. His story had a note of truth.

I only know of that punishment being doled out once every hundred years or so. It isn't common. And on the rare occasion this terrible sentence is is handed down, it's always given to a ghoul. Vampires consider it a form of high irony, and fitting of only the severest betrayals. It's used as a bedtime story to keep other ghouls in line. It adds the necessary element of threat to a relations.h.i.+p that's entirely too important to be left at the mercy of love, or other friendly sentiments. handed down, it's always given to a ghoul. Vampires consider it a form of high irony, and fitting of only the severest betrayals. It's used as a bedtime story to keep other ghouls in line. It adds the necessary element of threat to a relations.h.i.+p that's entirely too important to be left at the mercy of love, or other friendly sentiments.

I said, ”You've got a point there. It must be a miserable way to spend eternity.” And it would would be eternity, too. Other vampires are forbidden from killing such a punished ghoul. Usually, he was kept in a cellar or something-watched like a hawk, to make sure he (or she, there I go again) doesn't run out into the dawn to end it all. be eternity, too. Other vampires are forbidden from killing such a punished ghoul. Usually, he was kept in a cellar or something-watched like a hawk, to make sure he (or she, there I go again) doesn't run out into the dawn to end it all.

It's a serious punishment, intended to last. Vampires are vindictive. And they have very long memories, with plenty of room to hold very long grudges.

”What's his name?” I asked.

”It doesn't matter. He's holed up so tight even the bloodsuckers can't get him.”

”What's his name?”

He was getting worried. I could tell it in the way he licked at the corner of his lip, and his eyelids kept twitching as his gaze jerked back and forth between us. ”Sykes,” he finally said.

I knew it. ”And how'd he get so tightly holed up?”