“We need to find out where each one, but especially the two infected, went after the murder,” Elena said, furious at the stupidity that might’ve done more damage than the other attacks combined. “The only bright point in this situation is that the disease needs a blood transfer to infect.”
The interviews went fast—courtesy of the amputated leg sitting in the middle of the warehouse; none of these vampires was old enough to heal such an injury in anything less than twelve excruciating months.
Most of the murderous idiots had run home, but two had gone to a club. Where they’d fed on and been fed by fellow vampires. One of those two was the sick woman. Beautiful, sexy, and an unmistakable magnet for male vamps who wanted to sink their fangs into sweet, hot flesh.
“God damn it!”
Had the club been a high-class place like Erotique, where blood sharing was considered a seduction, a pair often spending hours together, there was a good chance they could’ve quickly halted any further spread. Unfortunately, Bezel was on the opposite end of the spectrum, catering to young vampires who were all about sex, blood, and more sex, multiple partners the norm in both categories.
The first indication Elena had of how bad this was going to be was when she landed in the club parking lot just as a tall, skinny vampire staggered out on four-inch heels, only to collapse to the concrete screaming that it hurt, it hurt!
34
Nine grueling hours later, Raphael looked down at the report Aodhan had just pushed across his desk and said, “How bad?” The disease had finally been contained, but not until it cut a swath through a particular segment of the city’s vampiric population.
“Three hundred and eight dead or sick,” Aodhan told him. “Two hundred under observation for the next day.”
It wasn’t the total disaster it had been shaping up to be, especially as none of Raphael’s vampire soldiers patronized Bezel, but given the already downed angels, added to the fear that now permeated the city’s vampire population, it was a brutal blow to the beating heart of his territory. “Continue to monitor the situation and alert me if there are any signs the disease has escaped containment.”
Montgomery, he said after Aodhan left, is Elena home? She’d been working side by side with him until an hour before, when he’d ordered her home, able to see her exhaustion after two tumultuous nights.
Yes, Sire.
Make sure she rests.
The slightest pause. I do not believe I could make the Guild Hunter do anything.
Despite knowing New York was on the brink of a catastrophic final assault, he almost felt the urge to laugh at the tentative response from the centuries-old vampire. True enough, he said, and touched his mind to Elena’s in a quiet question. When he heard only peaceful silence in response, he knew she slept.
Her sister? In all the chaos, he and Elena had had little time to speak, but she’d told him about her biological grandmother right before she left the Tower, the continuing shock of the revelation a strain in her expression. But trumping that had been her concern for what this might all mean for Eve.
Miss Evelyn is sleeping peacefully.
Thank you, Montgomery. With that, Raphael turned to input a number into the large communications screen on one wall of his office.
Titus’s face appeared on it a minute later. “Raphael, my second tells me you wish to speak to me,” the warrior archangel said, the mahogany of his skin gleaming in the light in the room from where he spoke.
“I hear you’re encountering the same vampire disease in your territory that almost brought down an aircraft in mine.” There’d been no way to suppress that information, their enemies no doubt aware the strike had found a target. Yet still they waited.
“I will trust you with this information, Raphael.” Titus’s eyes bored into his. “Do not betray me.”
Raphael inclined his head. “You are one archangel whose word I know is his bond. We are united in battling this scourge, and I’ll share all I know of it if you’ll do the same.”
Apparently mollified, Titus nodded. “The disease has at times threatened to decimate my ground forces. We tracked down and eliminated the carriers, but Charisemnon keeps sending more of the infected over our border, their only aim to disseminate their blood in the hours before the disease begins to show.”
Since the instant he’d received Jason’s message about the problems in Titus’s territory the day before, Raphael had had his suspicions about the archangel who was neighbor to Titus. “So. It is Charisemnon who is the architect of the disease? Is there any indication of Lijuan’s hand in its creation?”