“Not much we can do about it tonight.” Aidan finished off his whiskey. “But training starts in earnest tomorrow. Mirren’s in charge. Robin and Nik, sorry, but you’ll have to get acclimated to training at night. Welcome to the world of vampires.”
“What about Fen?” Cage asked. “I’m not endorsing him, mind you. Under normal circumstances I’d keep him away from our plans, but he is a good fighter.”
Aidan shook his head. “Not yet. If he’s here honestly, he’ll understand it’s too soon to be in the middle of our scathe’s business. If he acts put out by it, that’s a red flag—let me know. Be careful what you say around him in general, all of you. Same with Shawn Nicholls and Britta Eriksen.”
Cage lit one of the little cigars he was so fond of, and managed to get two puffs out before Robin’s glare and less-than-subtle coughs led him to snuff it out. “Bloody hell. Can’t a man keep one bad habit?”
Robin frowned. “I don’t get it about the women; their bios were in our dossiers. They’re both vampires that joined up in Atlanta, right? I thought you usually recruited humans from that Atlanta free clinic, from the addicts who hadn’t been vaccinated.”
Aidan smiled faintly. “Shawn was strung out before she was turned vampire, and was still getting juiced from feeding off junkies. She’s clean now. Britta actually came looking for me at the clinic and asked to be allowed to move here. She’s a fairly new vamp—two or three years—and wanted to be part of a community. Like many of us, she didn’t enjoy the hunt for feeders.”
Mirren didn’t like the idea of bringing any of the newcomers into their training plans, but they did need extra bodies. “What about some basic grunt work for them? We need people to patrol.”
Aidan rubbed his temples again. “Just the very basics. Put them on basic security details and have them report anything that looks unusual. Not a word about Matthias or sabotage or extra shape-shifters.”
“Aidan, what’s wrong?” Cage slid to the edge of his seat, frowning. “If you weren’t vampire, I’d say you had a headache.”
“Someone’s trying to reach me through a bond.” He jerked his head from side to side, as if trying to shake something out. “I think it’s Hannah, but . . .”
Voices reached them from the street, shouting, and Mirren recognized Glory’s among them. He ran toward the door and threw it open in time to see her in the street with Krys and Melissa. More people were running to join them from both sides of Cotton Street. When Glory saw Mirren, she veered toward the house while the others raced toward the old mill.
“Hannah’s house is on fire!” Glory yelled.
CHAPTER 12
Nik leaned against the community house three doors down from the fire and checked the clip on his Army-issue Beretta. He’d been ducking in and out of cover near the buildings that lay between Mirren’s house and the fire.
The whole street was a combination of new houses and burned-out shells of houses that had been partially demolished. Nik shook his head and surveyed both sides of the street and farther down, toward the old mill. If he’d been a sniper, wanting to lure out the Penton leaders and then take them out like ducks in a shooting gallery, a fire would make effective bait. Even Aidan and Mirren and Cage had run toward the flames, which was stupid. They weren’t thinking of their own safety—and from what he’d seen so far, their survival was the key to Penton’s survival.
Nik scanned the scene again, looking for anyone who might be watching from a distance or running away from the fire instead of toward it. He didn’t know the people here, damn it. No way he could spot who didn’t belong.
He’d lost sight of Robin as soon as they followed Mirren out of the house, but she could take care of herself. She’d probably shifted so she could fly above the scene and spot anyone skulking, running away, or driving like they were in a hurry.
When he reached the second house from the fire, the heat pressed against him with warm, gentle pulses. Another few yards and he discovered why—sparks from the hot mass of burning wood had been picked up in the southerly breeze and had spread to the roof of the second house. It was old construction, though—probably an original mill house—and Nik didn’t think anyone lived there.
He grabbed the arm of a woman running past, and she turned to him, blue eyes wide, blonde hair reflecting the blaze like a golden halo. She jerked away from him, then grabbed his arm and wrenched it behind his back before he could react. She twisted it higher, and it felt as if it might snap off.