Emily McKay - The Lair

My father could realize his key is missing. My father could decide he needs to talk to me now, nap be damned. Someone could come and check on the guard. Those were all possibilities. Remote, but possible. The more likely scenario is that there is a security camera in that room and that someone saw or heard everything I did and is on his way to retrieve me right now. If that’s the case, more troops will be here any minute. My new disguise is the only thing keeping me from being identified. So I keep my glasses firmly in place, even though the mirrored lenses muck with my vampire vision. I wear the outfit like I own it. Like I was born to be a brainless, hired goon.

I move quickly down one hall and then another. I don’t sneak because there are probably security cameras here, too. Still, every springy vampire muscle in my body is twitching to run. I could be anywhere on this compound in under three minutes if I let loose. But that would really blow my cover. Not just my identity, but the whole kit and caboodle. I don’t want anyone knowing what I’m capable of until it’s too late to stop me.

It’s a strain to move like a human, but I manage it. At least, I think I do. When several minutes pass and there are no obvious signs that I’m being followed, I relax a little. I’m still sure there were security cameras in that room, but that doesn’t mean someone was monitoring them.

In my mind, I try to pull up the little map that Sebastian drew for me. I know from my ride through town that it hadn’t been completely accurate. He had underestimated the number of houses. Even the “Main Street” had more buildings than Sebastian’s drawing. I wasn’t sure where he’d gotten his intel. I assumed some sort of satellite from the Before. If the number of new buildings was any indication, El Corazon has done well in the After. Chaos rules outside these fences, but in this little swath of what is left of the United States, order reigns. Roberto’s order. And my father’s. The fact that he’s alive shocks me, but the mystery of their connection is a puzzle box I’m not willing to play with right now. There have to be three hundred people living here. Three hundred people and one vampire. Roberto must eat well.

I step out of the clinic through one of the side doors into the late-afternoon sunlight. The temperatures are starting to drop off and there is a slight chill in the air. Directly across the street is a building that looks like a classic Texas county courthouse: four stories of impressive limestone, late-nineteenth-century architecture sitting on a neat square of trimmed grass. That’s the building from which Roberto rules this little kingdom. But I’m equally sure that he isn’t there now. No, it’s dusk. He is definitely at home, wherever home might be for him.

I don’t know enough about normal vampires—other vampires, that is—to know where he might live. Lore says vampires must sleep in the dirt of their native land, but Sebastian has never done that. So I walk along Main Street looking as I go at the buildings in either direction. I’m surprised, but grateful, that no one has come racing after me yet. To the south, I see the open plain. Longhorn cattle dot the landscape as well as active pump jacks. This doesn’t surprise me. I saw the windmills on the way in. Roberto is the kind of man who would have planned this stuff out far in advance. It wouldn’t even surprise me if this compound of his wasn’t set for the next decade.

I walk farther down the street and don’t see the house until I turn the corner and the land begins to slope gently up a hill. There it is, on the crest of the hill, overlooking the town. Actually, it’s less house and more sprawling Victorian mansion: three stories of ornate, pink granite with glossy, black slate on the roof and more wrought iron than the French Quarter in New Orleans. There is a pair of massive live oaks in the front yard, shading the house from the southern sun, their branches clumped with ball moss and dipping low to the ground. It reminds me of the Haunted Mansion from Disney World.

I walk right up. There is a single guard in front and another patrolling the sides and probably the back of the house, too. I take out the patrol guard first using the tranq rifle I’d stolen with the uniform. The second guy takes a little more planning, but it is still relatively easy. I pretend to be the guard from the side of the house and call him over. I hit him with the tranq rifle. I tie them up with zip ties, like I’d seen Carter do before—then eye the back of the house looking for a window that looks vulnerable.

I return to the front, find a tree branch that’s about an inch or two in diameter. I break off the branch and snap it in two and then use the knife I stole off the guard to whittle points on either end of both sticks. As stakes go, they’re primitive, but they’ll do.

I’m just starting to wonder why I’ve gotten this far without more interference, when I hear the howl of Ticks in the distance. My heart gives a little shudder of fear at the piercing yips. Even after all this time, even after I’ve killed so many of them, that sound still terrifies me. It’s like I’m back in that parking lot, dying all over again.

I push my terror aside. I have nothing to fear. Not from them. Besides, this was what I had planned. I wanted the Ticks here. This was why I cut the tracking chip out of the neck of that girl I’d killed. This was why I’d stashed it in my pocket and carried it with me during the long drive here, despite the annoying buzzing it caused in my head. The radio frequency of those chips irritated me, but it bugged the crap out of the Ticks.

Their arrival spurs me to get moving. I turn back to consider the house. Roberto wasn’t expecting an attack, certainly not from a vampire, so safety wouldn’t be his first concern. This was his empire. He would want to survey it. Which means his room would be on the third floor. So I decide to scale the outside of the building and go in through the window and then search the building from the top down.

Climbing the outside of the building is slower going than I expected, even with my new vampire strength and speed. Finding the minute crevices for footholds takes time. Enough time for me to wonder whether or not anyone else lives with Roberto in this house. It’s huge. There could easily be several people.

Will I have to kill them all, like that SEAL team that went after Osama Bin Laden? Or will I be able to find just him and destroy him alone?

Will I even recognize him? He’s old. Older than Sebastian. Which means he’ll be smart. Vicious. Heartless. Brutal. Yes, those are all the things I expect from him personally. Those are the qualities of a vampire. Sebastian’s taught me that much.

As for his body, that I’m not sure about. He goes by Roberto and has lived in this part of the world for close to two thousand years. I’m picturing dark hair and high, Mayan cheekbones. Old-world manners and oozing charm. Basically, I’m picturing Ricardo Montalban, that old actor from Fantasy Island and Spy Kids .

As soon as I’m in the window, I pull off the mirrored sunglasses and tuck them into my pocket. I may need them later, but for now I’m happy to have them off. Even without turning on lights, my vampire vision allows me to see just fine. Turns out I was wrong about his bedroom being on the third floor. The window was easy enough to open, but the four bedrooms were obviously unused, elegantly appointed guest bedrooms. Creeping down the stairs, I hear voices. One pitched too softly for me to understand, the other a deep, rumbling voice that’s faintly accented, like Sebastian’s. And, for that matter, the voice is similar to Ricardo Montalban’s.

I creep closer, back pressed against the wall, trying to catch the conversation. There’s something about a security breach. No big surprise there.