"Thought they were in a train tunnel,” one of the Feds said as he opened the car door for her.
"No.” She climbed out and for a moment wished she could simply relax under the cool canopy of trees in the nearby gardens. “They're in an underground room of some sort, accessed through the sewers. It's close to a train tunnel, though."
"Sewer rats,” one of the cops muttered. “There are hundreds of them down there, and hundreds of places they can run."
"I doubt if we're after homeless folk,” the blue-eyed FBI agent said. “This is too well organized for them.” He handed her a flashlight, then added, “Which way?" She took a deep breath and fought the pull of the images pulsing from the necklace. One little push, one tiny reach, and she'd be with Anne Harris, sharing her pain, sharing her fear. She swallowed back bile and nodded up the street. “That way."
They were close to a hall of some kind when she stopped. “Here,” she said, pointing to a grate. “We need to go down here."
Several cops glanced at each other, then bent and levered free the grate. A ladder led down into deeper darkness.
"Down there?” The cop pointed his flashlight at the rusty-looking ladder.
"Yep. You want me to lead the way?"
"I'll lead the way,” Blue Eyes said. “Mitch, Davidson, you follow me down. When we know it's safe, the rest of you follow."
They disappeared into the darkness. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, needing to move, needing to chase the images flashing through her mind. She crossed her arms and reached out to Michael instead.
You near?
Close. I'm not alone, though.
Fear tripped through her heart. What do you mean?
I mean there's a Loop of vamps nearby.
What in hell is a Loop?
It's a term for fledglings who were all basically created around the same time. They tend to flock together.
I thought fledglings couldn't control their bloodlust enough to hang around with anyone but their master?
The newly risen can't. But these have a few years on them and, while the bloodlust still reigns, common sense is beginning to reassert itself. There is safety in numbers. What sort of numbers are we talking about?
Five.
We've already destroyed six of his vampires. How many of these so called Loops has he made?
Quite a few, by the look of it. Our boy appears to like his harems. Bile rose in her throat. What are we going to do?
Nothing much we can do. I doubt if the police will be too pleased if you suddenly lose direction. Besides which, we have to free Anne Harris.
Yes. He hesitated. She lives. I can hear the frantic sound of her pulse. So could she, through the necklace. Only the sensation came with flashes of horror—fragmented memories of what the vamps had done to her. Repeatedly.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Could you go rescue her before we get there?
I could—but I prefer not to. I don't think Farmer has realized you're not working alone. I prefer to keep it that way for as long as possible.
Why?
Because he'll undoubtedly change his method of attack once he realizes you have a vampire protecting you.
"All clear down here,” a distant voice said. “Start climbing down. You first, Miss James." She did. She stepped off the ladder and into inch-thick muck. The air had a slightly damp, fishy smell, and the darkness was lifted only by the lonely flashlight beams. She clicked hers on and swung it around. Graffiti greeted her—angry scrawls and disjointed pictures—representing God knew what.
"Where now?” the Fed said once the last of the officers was down.
"That way.” She pointed to the darkness on her left.