Up From the Grave

Ten

The good news was, after hours of questioning Barbara, we knew the location of the facility where Tate, Juan, Dave, and Cooper were most likely held since that’s where the vampire blood samples came from. Then, like the not-actor James Franco, Barbara was sent on her way with a lower blood count and a new memory.

Ian was going to throw in a bonus service (“I’m many things, but a tease isn’t one of them,” he’d stated), yet I stopped him before he could make good on his former, unspoken offer to Barbara. We didn’t have the time, plus, her previous attraction didn’t equate to current consent in my book.

The bad news was, I didn’t know how we could break into the facility without getting caught.

The McClintic Wildlife Management area in Mason County, West Virginia, was more commonly known as the “TNT area.” During World War II, it was a large manufacturing and storage center for explosives. In addition to the dozens of aboveground concrete bunkers that housed the aforementioned TNT as well as radioactive waste, there was also a network of tunnels and underground bunkers built to withstand a nuclear blast. After the war, the blueprints of the massive underground facility conveniently disappeared, though the topside bunkers were just sealed up and left to rot.

Today, a few hundred out of the three-thousand-plus-acre tract were off-limits to the public due to safety and environmental concerns. Even the airspace was closed over a section of preserve after one of the bunkers mysteriously exploded in 2010, but while the government owned and monitored the area, someone like Barbara could slip in and out without arousing locals’ suspicions. In addition to hunters who frequented the McClintic Wildlife Management area, it was also the original location of the Mothman sightings and thus drew paranormal seekers by the thousands.

“In short,” I said to Bones after I spent several fruitless hours scouring the Internet for more information, “we’re screwed. Barbara always picks up the briefcase in front of the S4-A storage igloo, but that doesn’t mean it’s the entrance to the underground compound. That could be anywhere underneath three thousand acres of swamp, forest, and brush, and we can’t go there ourselves to narrow its location by listening for thoughts.”

After all, this wasn’t located in a city like Madigan’s lab in Charlottesville. There, it wouldn’t be unusual for vampires to frequent the vicinity. Hunters and wannabe cryptids might be able to stroll around the McClintic Wildlife Management area without arousing suspicion, but no self-respecting vampire would shoot animals for sport. Neither would one chase after a supernatural creature that didn’t exist.

“If this place has security like the Tennessee compound,” I continued in frustration, “infrared alarms will go off if anyone with a body temperature lower than ninety-six degrees enters the preserve. And if those alarms triggered an instant explosion, well . . . they don’t call it the TNT area for nothing.”

No one would find that unusual, only unfortunate. Madigan had the perfect cover with this facility.

“Send Fabian to scout it,” Ian suggested, referring to the ghost I was friends with.

I gave him a sour look. “It’s worth a shot, but I doubt the most important place in Madigan’s scheme to create partly undead supersoldiers is also the only place he didn’t ghostproof.”

Bones tapped his chin, his silence acknowledging his agreement. Then, with a twisted smile, he tossed me my purse.

“You’re friends with the only vampire in the world who can beat infrared sensors, and he’s explosion-proof to boot.”

I thought he muttered, “More’s the pity” after that statement, but I was too excited to chide him.

Vlad! With his pyrokinesis, he was warmer than most humans, and that same ability also rendered him fireproof. I dug my phone out of my purse and dialed Vlad’s cell.

Daca nu este ceva important, nu lasati mesaj si nu sunati din nou, a recorded male voice answered, followed by the English translation of “If this isn’t important, don’t leave a message and don’t call back.”

No one ever accused Vlad the Impaler of being too charming. I left an urgent message with both mine and Bones’s cell number before I hung up.

“Okay, that’s done. Now, let’s find Fabian and get him to check out the McClintic Wildlife preserve, just in case.”

Fabian du Brac had been forty-five when he died, and his longish brown hair was still drawn back in a style that went out of fashion over a century ago. His sideburns and clothes also marked him as from another era, but it was his somber blue eyes that I focused on now. Before he even spoke, they told me that he didn’t have good news.

“There is indeed a large, active facility deep beneath a section of the McClintic Wildlife Management area, but I don’t know where the entrance is. The entire facility is covered by a barrier I cannot penetrate and no one has left it the entire time I’ve been there.”

I ground my teeth. Madigan’s staff lived on-site, so no one could glean information from their comings and goings. Or kidnap one of them after they left, which had been my other plan to get more details.

I hated the bureaucratic bastard, but if I’d been designing security for the place, I would have done the same thing.

My breath blew out in a sigh of resignation.

“Then we have to wait eleven more days until the next scheduled labs pickup. Someone will have to come out of that compound to give the briefcase to Barbara.”

Fabian nodded. “Elisabeth and I won’t leave until we discover the entrance. She remains there now in case someone emerges while I’m gone.”

I gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, and thank your girlfriend for us, please.”

Resolve flashed over his face. “You owe me no thanks. You gave me a home when no one wanted me, and Elisabeth wouldn’t be my ladylove now if you hadn’t helped her in her time of need, too.”

He was, as always, too kind. For the thousandth time, I wished I could hug Fabian, but instead, I did the only thing I could do: held up my hand and smiled as his transparent fingers curled next to—and through—my own.

“Now all you need is to make a V with your hand and say in a death rattle that you have been, and always shall be, his friend,” Ian noted with heavy irony.

“Why would I . . .” I began. Then understanding dawned.

“Holy crap, you’re a closet Trekkie!”

I would have delved deeper into this surprising revelation about Ian, but my cell phone rang. I glanced at the number before snatching it up with impatient relief. After leaving multiple voice mails for three straight days, Vlad had finally called back.

“Where have you been?” I answered in lieu of a hello.

“Busy,” was his clipped reply, his cultured accent more pronounced.

“Aren’t we all? Listen, I need your particular brand of help, which is why I called—”

“Count me out this time, Cat.”

I was too upset by his reply to make a quip about the real Dracula using the word “count.”

“It’s serious,” I said, in case he thought I was looking for a teammate for competitive nail filing.

“Whatever it is, I can’t help. Furthermore, you need to be in Romania tonight.”

I was well versed in Vlad’s arrogance, yet this was going too far. “You refuse to help me with a life-and-death scenario, but you want me to hop a plane and leave immediately for your house?”

“He’s lost his wits,” Bones muttered from the next room.

Vlad replied with four words that briefly cleared my mind of all thought. I asked him to repeat them to be sure I hadn’t misheard, and when he did, I began to grin.

“Then I guess I’ll see you tonight,” I said, and hung up.

Bones came into the room, his chiseled features marred by an expression of disbelief.

“We can’t rush off to Romania, Kitten. Whatever Vlad thinks is so important can wait—”

“No, it can’t,” I interrupted, still grinning. “He’s getting married tonight.”