Part 3 (1/2)

Jenn's mom stared at him. For a full ten seconds she was silent. And then a wrenching wail tore out of her-the scream of a mother who had been told her child was dead. Jenn held her with both arms, trying to contain her mom's shock. But her mom pushed her away and got to her feet, still screaming. She flailed her fists at Father Juan, then showered Jenn with punches. She kicked at Jenn's legs, shrieking. Jenn scooted away, protecting her mother from her instinctive response to fight back, but her mother came at her.

”You! You!” she screamed, over and over again.

Gramma Esther tried to grab her daughter-in-law's upper arms, to stop her from pounding Jenn. Jenn slid out of the pew and stood in the aisle, her arms outstretched.

”Mom, we'll get her back. And we'll help her. I promise!” Jenn had to shout to be heard over her mother's screams.

Father Juan joined her in the aisle. ”We have to leave,” he said into her ear. ”The brothers will hear. Tell the others to get ready. We'll depart the second the sun goes down.”

She looked over at her mother, who had collapsed in the pew. She was rocking back and forth, shaking her head as she shrieked and cried.

”I should stay with my mom,” she said, but as soon as she spoke, she knew she was wrong. She needed to put distance between her mother and herself.

Because she blames me. She thinks I made this happen. Just like Daddy thought when I left for the academy.

Gramma Esther caught her gaze and held it. She gestured for Jenn to leave the two of them alone. Shaking all over, Jenn obeyed. Tears blinded her as she hurried out of the chapel.

Framed by a stone archway, Antonio was s.h.i.+elded from the dying sun. He remained silent, but his expression-sympathy, pity-spoke volumes.

Oh, why can't you love me? she thought, crumbling inside. Her heart was breaking, for herself, for her mother and grandmother, for Heather.

And for him.

Why do you have to be a vampire and a priest?

Why does it have to be this way?

Antonio retreated into the shadows, becoming almost invisible. As Jenn brushed past him, she cleared her throat and said, ”We're leaving as soon as the sun sets.”

He didn't reply.

IN A BUNKER BENEATH THE WHITE HOUSE, WAs.h.i.+NGTON, D.C.

SOLOMON AND PRESIDENT KILBURN.

The room was octagonal, and ringed with high-definition monitors. Solomon, the leader of the Vampire Nation, strolled beside Jack Kilburn, the president of the United States, pausing before each screen so Kilburn could get the full effect. Solomon had been very busy.

”This beautiful new 'hospital'-he made air quotes-is in New Mexico,” Solomon explained, gesturing to an enormous structure that towered against the brilliant suns.h.i.+ne. ”Filled to capacity already. Six hundred beds. People are dropping like flies from 'causes unknown,' and they're begging for help. People are talking about a worldwide epidemic. Which is what we want them to talk about.”

President Kilburn tried to smile as his sweat beaded on his brow. Solomon could smell the tantalizing odor of fear. Solomon enjoyed a mini fantasy about ripping into the president's throat and killing him on the spot. Kilburn's price for cooperating with Solomon was eternal life. Solomon had yet to pay it.

Kilburn had yet to earn it. The president was hesitant to get with the program, and Solomon needed someone fully committed to ma.s.s extermination.

”And they're dropping like flies from . . . ?” President Kilburn asked.

Solomon smiled patiently. ”We sprayed a toxin on the local produce,” he said. ”Not traceable. Incurable. So the humans come in for help . . . and they don't come out.”

Kilburn swallowed hard and nodded. ”But we . . . my family . . .”

”Just don't eat any chilies,” Solomon said pleasantly.

The monitors revealed more ”hospitals” and other camps for humans. Solomon had been building them for months, but was only now informing the president. The camps were being presented as ”overflow facilities for our crowded prisons,” and of course some of the inmates were convicted criminals. But others would be undesirables-rabble-rousers, protestors, and anti-vampire terrorists-who would never face trial. The definition of ”undesirable” would be repeatedly expanded until anyone Solomon could not control-human or vampire-found him or herself behind barbed wire.

It would be some time before this bothered the Americans. After the chaos of the war, humans wanted security and order. The majority cheered the removal of low-life sc.u.m and troublemakers from their streets. By the time things reached a point where they realized mankind had been reduced to an exotic species, it would be too late for them to do anything about it.

”Now, this camp is located in Malaysia,” Solomon said to Kilburn. He frowned. ”You seem distracted.”

”How's the supersoldier program coming?” Kilburn asked.

Inwardly Solomon seethed. The supersoldier hybrids were disintegrating. He had scientists from all over the world poring over the files Dantalion had e-mailed him before the lab in Russia had exploded, but a critical component must not have come through.

”Come and see,” he replied.

Kilburn stood staring at the screens for a few more seconds, then trailed after him. Six armed guards-three human, three vampire-snapped to attention as Solomon and Kilburn entered the dimly lit corridor. As they progressed down the pa.s.sageway, the guards stationed at other doors saluted them.

At the end of the corridor they paused for retinal and fingerprint scans. Solid steel elevator doors opened. The guard inside saluted as Solomon, Kilburn, and their security detail entered. Then the elevator descended, pa.s.sing floor after floor, until at last it stopped, seemingly at the bottom of the world.

They walked through a literal maze of corridors, arriving at a steel door guarded by more soldiers in full battle gear. Solomon key-coded the door, and it opened with a vacuumlike fwom.

After another series of guarded doors, they finally reached one marked BIOHAZARD. Kilburn stank of terror. Solomon was gleeful.

Six cells, each containing a hybrid, faced them. Solomon led the way to the second cell. A creature, part werewolf, part vampire, part human, and mechanically enhanced, glared at Solomon. Thick, greenish wrists were restrained by handcuffs. Its furry ankles thrashed, clanking the chains that held them. Its long claws tapped against the tile. A thick rope of drool dangled from its mouth. Werewolf teeth gnashed and vampire eyes glowed red.

Kilburn was really losing it, straining to act normal despite his shallow breathing. Maybe he wouldn't have been so frightened if he'd known-as Solomon did-that the hybrid was slowly rotting from the inside out. So were the five other hybrids. The different strands of DNA were unraveling. If Solomon was lucky, these hybrids would last another three or four months-long enough for the team to create replacements-if Solomon still needed to pretend that he was fulfilling his promise to Kilburn. Of course, Solomon planned to create his own army, and he'd make sure his hybrids were bigger, faster, and stronger than the supersoldiers he created for the humans. But right now the project was a failure.