S. Harper - Cursed

“Only, you aren’t ready to let him go,” I say.

Alan glances at the clock on the wall above the coffeemaker. “Michael’s was supposed to be the last life Isabella saved. According to Mother, she’s at the end of her period of . . . usefulness. After a while, the levels of silver necessary to control them turns the organs, spoils them.”

Zack’s on his feet. “How much time do we have?”

“The operation is supposed to take place this afternoon. Maybe an hour,” answers Alan.

Zack fires off a series of questions, short and direct.

“Are there other vampires being held hostage?”

Alan nods. “I don’t know how many.”

“Is there a security system?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know the code?”

“No.”

“Are there guards?”

“Yes. One. Mostly just to sign visitors in and out. And to provide security after hours and during the weekends.”

“Anything else we should know?”

Zack walks over to a refurbished cast-iron radiator next to the window and gives it a good yank.

Alan hesitates.

Zack turns his attention back on him. “Well?”

“There’s a door,” Alan continues. “It’s hidden behind a bookcase in Mother’s office. It’s the way into the laboratory.”

“Address?”

Pierce’s lab is not far from Barakov’s office. We should be able to get there in ten, fifteen minutes tops.

Zack reaches back, under his suit, with one hand for his handcuffs. With his other hand he grabs Alan’s wrist. “We’ll come back for you.” After cuffing him to the radiator, Zack turns to me. “No way he can move that thing. I’ll drive ahead and scope out the building. Call me when you get there.”

Alan sinks to the floor. “Michael’s going to die. And I’m going to jail, aren’t I?”

He’s come clean. The least I can do is give him the truth. But what exactly is the truth? Nothing he said to us could be used in court. And even if it could, what kind of story are we talking about? A doctor using vampire organs in transplants? Who would believe it? Once the word got around the vampire community, though, I’m afraid he’d have more to fear from them than any human court.

I heave a sigh. “I don’t know, Alan. Depends entirely on your mother. If she’s willing to take responsibility for the murder of Barakov’s first wife and the homeless victims, you may get a break. But I think if I were you, I’d worry more about retribution from the vampires. They don’t play by the same rules we do.”

Since it’s early Saturday morning, it only takes me fifteen minutes to get across town. During the drive, my thoughts are as frenetic as they are fractured. This case has turned into a nightmare with ramifications that can literally shake the worlds of both humans and supernaturals. I was serious when I told Alan he may have more to fear from the vampires than any human court. And what about this Davis Mager? Will Barbara Pierce give him up? It may be her only way to win favor with the district attorney and, possibly, immunization for her son.

The address Alan gave us for his mother’s office comes into view. It’s a fairly new three-story luxury medical building built around a courtyard. I pull into the parking lot next to Zack’s car and climb out.

Unlike in her husband’s office, there is a large air-conditioning unit perched on the flat roof and signs announcing that Crown Security monitors the premises. The area around the building and adjacent parking lot is landscaped with cascading bougainvillea and large ferns, giving the appearance of a well-kept residential yard. There’s a sign on the front listing Dr. Barbara Pierce’s name among the other medical tenants and a telephone number to reach the security desk outside of regular business hours, including the weekend. The security gate, which leads to a courtyard, is closed and locked.

Still no Zack in sight. Before I have the chance to pull my cell from my pocket to call him, Zack appears and opens the gate from the inside.

“How’d you get in?”

“A little trick I picked up from my previous job.” He pulls the gate closed behind me.

“Have any tricks up your sleeve to get us past that?” I point up ahead to the building’s main entrance. A security camera hovers over the door, no doubt monitored by the guard inside.

Zack scoffs. “Amateurs. The security is unbelievably sloppy. I’ve already found an alternative route. Come this way.”

The courtyard has a fountain in the middle. He leads me behind it and around to a side yard. Separating the side yard from the front is a six-foot stucco wall with a locked gate. Zack easily scales the wall and seconds later the gate swings open for me.

“No camera,” he says, pointing to the door up ahead. “And just an old-fashioned dead bolt.” The door is partially hidden by a screen of thick bushes. As we walk toward it, Zack pulls out a ballpoint pen and begins to unscrew the top. The casing is hollow and contains a variety of picks and tension tools.

I have a very bad feeling nothing we do today is going to be reportable to our superiors. This may be the first time I’ve partnered with someone who has Zack’s “special” skills, but there are three missing vampires, people as far as the world knows, and I shake off my reservations. Human or not, the victims get my sympathies.

Zack gets right to work. “Never met a lock I couldn’t pick.”

“Get a lot of practice, do you?”

“You should see my collection of chains and handcuffs.”

“Kinky.”

Within seconds, there’s a metallic click and he’s cracked it.

We slip inside.

This side entrance takes us to the private elevator that goes directly to Dr. Pierce’s suite.

“Now what?” I whisper. This door requires a key card of some kind.

He pulls something from his wallet, swipes it, and voilà—green light.

“Do I even want to know where you got that thing?”

“Probably not,” he mutters, pocketing the card, then drawing his weapon.

Zack takes point. Since he’s the one with super-duper healing and I’m practical, I let him.

The waiting and reception areas are empty. We quickly move into position by the entrance to the back office. Gun in hand, I pull the door open. Zack leads the way. We proceed cautiously down the hall of exam rooms. At the end, a door stands ajar. According to the placard, it’s what we’ve been looking for, the office of Dr. Barbara Pierce. And it’s empty. Once we’re inside, the real chore lies ahead of us. Finding the hidden entrance to the lab.

There are floor-to-ceiling bookcases on all four walls.

“I should have asked Alan which bookcase,” I whisper.

“No need,” Zack answers, in a hushed tone. He crosses to the first bookcase, leans close. He straightens and moves to the second. Then the third. He gives me a thumbs-up. “This one.” Before I can ask how he determined it, he adds, “I hear the whine from a generator. It’s strongest here. Labs need power. A secret lab with its own operating suite needs its own power source.”

“You are so clever.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Any idea where the catch or lock is that will open this puppy?”

I’ve already holstered my gun. With both hands free, I begin to explore the bookcase, passing my hand under and over each shelf. Nothing. I reach behind the case as far as I can. Still nothing. On either side. I turn and look at Pierce’s desk. I remember Alan had the release for the front door of his office somewhere under the top of his desk.

I take a seat in Pierce’s chair and let my hands explore. No catch. I open the file drawers to the left and right, shuffle papers around so I can see the entire insides of the drawers. My impatience is growing along with my fear that if this takes any longer, we’re going to lose Isabella.