NINETEEN
The subject’s blood itself is filled with
previously unidentified hormones, enzymes and antibodies. These
compounds, which we continue to study, may explain the subject’s
immunity to our test-panel of diseases. Attempts to inoculate the
subject with everything from the common cold (Rhinovirus) to AIDS
(HIV) failed completely. Within an hour, no trace of any viral or
bacterial contaminants could be found in the subject’s blood.
Similar efforts with bioweapons (powdered anthrax), nerve agents
and gases were also unsuccessful.
—BRIEFING BOOK: CODENAME: NIGHTMARE PET
Zach followed Cade to the parking garage
attached to the clinic, headed for the sedan.
“What did you think of him?” Cade asked.
“Give me some credit,” Zach said. “Guy’s more full
of shit than a duck pond.”
Cade’s mouth twitched at the corner before settling
into its usual stony calm.
Cade opened the trunk, and retrieved a black nylon
case. He unzipped it, and revealed an array of electronic gizmos
held by Velcro straps.
Zach grinned. “Sweet. Finally some superspy
tech.”
Cade resisted the urge to sigh. He turned on the
small, battery-powered GPS tracker. A signal lit up on his
sat-phone.
Then he found Konrad’s parking space, Zach trailing
along behind.
The doctor’s Ferrari was parked under his RESERVED
sign. Cade looked around for cameras and then ducked under the rear
wheel. The rare-earth magnet on the tracer stuck to the axle like
glue.
Zach watched, still grinning. “So what do we do
now?”
“Now, you wait here. Konrad has several cars.
Tomorrow morning, you do the same thing I just did if he comes to
work in a different one.”
Zach’s face fell. “That’s it?”
“For the time being, yes.”
Zach stewed all the way back to the sedan. Cade
figured the tantrum would come before they exited the garage. Zach
didn’t even make it inside the car.
“You know, I’m getting a little bit sick of this,”
he said. He stared at Cade over the roof of the sedan. “You’re
supposed to take orders from me, remember?”
It suddenly occurred to Cade why Zach annoyed him.
He was completely convinced that he knew the shape of the world,
and resisted every attempt to knock him out of that certainty. Cade
had not dealt with anyone like that for decades.
In short, he was young, and he made Cade feel
old. That was a human feeling—one he hadn’t had before. Not
ever.
He wasn’t sure what to make of it.
He knew Zach was frustrated and acting out, trying
to assert control over an arguably insane situation.
It didn’t make him any less irritating,
however.
Cade buried the feelings. “It doesn’t quite work
like that.”
Zach wasn’t going to be put off. “So how does it
work? Tell me. What happens if I give an order and you don’t follow
it?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Zach rolled his eyes, then reached inside his
jacket and came out with a small silver flask.
“Actually, I do.”
Cade couldn’t sniff the contents of the flask—it
was sealed tight. “What is that?”
Zach looked inordinately pleased with himself.
“About twelve ounces of type O negative, I think.”
“What? Where did you get that?”
“I swiped it from the doctor’s fridge, when I told
you I was looking for the restroom.”
Cade stepped back from the car. His hands were
shaking, and despite his best efforts, they would not stop.
“Why would you—why?”
“Because I want to know, Cade. What kind of vampire
doesn’t drink human blood?”
“I won’t do it.”
“Sure you will. I’m following the rules. I just
gave you a lawful order. And I’m the president’s representative. As
far as you’re concerned, that’s the same as coming straight from
him.” Zach’s smug look was just about unbearable now. “So drink
up.”
Cade felt his right foot move, as if on its own,
back toward the car. The first step to taking the flask and downing
it, all in one long, easy gulp . . .
His mouth was full of saliva. He found it difficult
to talk. “Please,” he said. “I’m begging you.”
Zach laughed. “Begging me? I thought you were the
guy in charge, Cade—”
He didn’t say anything else, or Cade didn’t hear
it, because that’s when the seizures started.
His right hand reached out for the flask, so he
drove it into the door of the car instead. The panel crumpled under
the impact. The force under all his thoughts shoved its way to the
front of his mind, telling him to just pick up the flask and follow
the order. He stood in front of it like a man before a tidal wave
on the beach, trying desperately to keep his footing in the
sand.
His body thrashed away from him. Pain, overriding
his nervous system. Punishment. His legs kicked out, and vaguely,
he noticed a fender torn off the driver’s side of the car.
Mme. Laveau’s voice came back to him, bigger than
anything, softer than silk. “By this blood, you are bound,”
it told him, “. . . to the orders of the officers appointed by
him . . .”
He screamed, to drown it out. Because even if it
left him in ruins, he swore, never again, not one drop, no
matter what.
He thought back to a ship, the last night he had
been human. He remembered how he had failed to stand against the
darkness. And how easy it would be to just give in to it
again.
No. Never again. No matter what.
Then he heard another scream, a different voice.
The sound of sheer panic. It took him a moment to recognize the
voice. To connect it with a name.
Zach. “—Jesus Christ, Cade, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I
take it back, I take the order back—”
A lawful order, from an officer of the
president.
The pain vanished. The certainty moved back to its
normal place, in the back of his mind.
The gray cleared from his vision, and he noticed he
was on the floor. His fingers had carved small furrows in the
concrete.
Zach was next to him, worry and fear on his
face.
Cade had bitten through his lip. He pulled his
fangs back in, and shifted to a sitting position. He leaned against
the door of the sedan. He didn’t think he could manage standing
just yet.
Zach had never stopped talking. Of course.
“—I didn’t know, I swear, I mean, holy shit, holy
shit, Cade, I’m sorry, I really didn’t know, I just—”
“You just wanted to find out how far you could
push,” Cade said. His voice was a croak, strangely distant in his
own ears.
Zach kneeled down closer to him. The flask was in
his hand.
“Please,” Cade said. “Get that away from me.”
“What? Oh, this?” Zach opened the flask, and the
smell touched Cade like a burn.
Zach took a quick swig.
“Whiskey,” he said. “Graduation gift from my dad. I
carry it around everywhere. I figured by the time I actually opened
it, it would be twelve-year-old Scotch, instead of the cheap crap
he put in there.”
Cade stared at him for a long moment.
Zach finally looked away. If he wasn’t ashamed, he
was doing a good job imitating it.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted to know.”
“Now you do,” Cade said.
Slowly, he got to his feet. He looked at the car.
The rear driver’s-side door was wrecked. The window had cracked,
but not shattered. The right front fender had been sent across the
garage. There were scratches in the paint Cade didn’t remember
making, and a fist-shaped dent in the roof
Zach tried to help him up. With more force than he
intended—maybe—Cade shook him off.
“Cade. Seriously, man. I’m sorry.”
“Stay here,” Cade said. “Wait for Konrad to leave,
then call me. If I don’t answer, call Griff. He’ll tell you how to
activate the tracker on my phone.”
Zach looked worried. “You’re leaving me here? Where
are you going?”
Cade walked over to the side of the garage. They
were on the fourth story. The parking structure was open to the
air. He breathed in deeply, smelling the night-blooming jasmine,
the heavy metals in the smog.
His hands were still shaking.
“Let me give you a word of advice,” Cade said to
Zach. “I’m not human. Don’t make the mistake of treating me like
one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You remember that magician in Las Vegas? The one
who was mauled by the tiger he’d used in his act for years?”
Zach nodded.
“You can bring it inside, put it on a leash and
dress it up, but a wild animal never really loses the taste for
blood,” Cade said. “You might want to consider that before you test
me again.”
Cade leaped over the side, and was gone.