Authors: Sierra Dean
I couldn’t even blame the American public school system for failing me. I’d been home-schooled. In Canada.
The seat belts in the jeep were broken, so whenever we hit a big divot or branch in the road—about every three seconds—I’d either slam into the passenger door or be tossed against Eduardo. He seemed to be having the time of his life. He was laughing and rattling off fun facts about the jungle.
“If you stay, I will show you the pampas. So much wonderful wildlife.” His English was perfect, and his accent made all the familiar words sound much prettier than I was accustomed to.
“Pampas?”
“Yes. Wetlands. You’ll see capybaras.”
“ROUSs, you mean.”
“Disculpe?”
“Rodents of Unusual Size.”
“
Si
.” He gave me a look like I was an idiot. Guess he’d never seen
The Princess Bride
.
I
thought it was hilarious.
In the back, my big duffel bag slid from side to side. Eduardo had provided me with a thick black flak jacket when I’d arrived at the El Alto airport. I’d been pretty impressed with my travel conditions up to that point, which of course changed drastically once I got into Eduardo’s car.
The first three hours—from El Alto to Coroico—had been fine, and then we’d hit the jungle. I’d shed the flak jacket within the first hour of our Amazon drive and wrapped it around my bag. The humidity was so overpowering, even in October, that my white linen shirt was soaked through in the exact shape of the vest. It hadn’t dried since.
The AR-15 he’d given me was tucked in by the door—safety on—and my personal Sig P229 was secured in its hip holster.
I normally had no problem traveling while armed, because I usually got to use a private plane. I’d gotten spoiled. Even with government-issued ID and a permit, I had to bring the gun in a lockbox that got checked with the rest of the luggage. So much for my clever plan to only take a carry-on and a gun.
What would they have done if I’d tried to bring a sword?
“You like the Yankees?” he asked casually as I was thrown back into the passenger door. He pronounced it
Yahn-kees
.
“Huh?” I rubbed my sore shoulder and righted myself. Sweat dribbled down my back, and I swatted away an enormous mosquito that had a vampiric thirst for my blood.
“Your hat.” He jerked his chin at the ball cap on my head that I’d forgotten I was wearing.
“Oh. Not really. My husband does.”
Husband.
It had been three years since our wedding but I still loved the way that word sounded, loved the way it tasted on my tongue. Like limes.
Like Desmond.
I smiled to myself, and then remembered he was the reason I hadn’t been able to use the jet and furrowed my brow. What a jerk. Worst husband ever.
The light overhead that had been so bright and yellow when we left Coroico had turned dark gray, and somewhere a little ways off I could hear the distinct rumble of thunder. The humidity was so bad at this point I’d welcome the rain. The sound was a buzzing lullaby of bird, frogs, and insects that got louder the farther into the forest we went. It was like having one of those white noise “Sounds of the Rainforest” albums, but turned up to AC/DC-level volumes.
I fanned the front of my shirt, hoping to get some reprieve from the sweltering, oppressive heat.
“Remind me never to complain about summer in New York again.”
“Oh, you should not. Summer is wonderful.” Eduardo flashed me a broad smile. Already on this trip he had said New York, the FBI, Jeeps, and Tuesdays were wonderful. I was starting to think he was a robot programmed by the American government to infiltrate the Bolivian Special Intelligence Service and inundate them with goodwill towards the US. No one should be this naturally happy about everything.
Especially not considering the reason I was here.
“Can you tell me anything that wasn’t in the report?” I was almost shouting over the rattle of the jeep. This poor car was going to shake itself to pieces, and then we’d need to walk the entire way back to Coroico.
“How much do you know?” he asked.
“Idiot vampire who thinks he’s a god is taking his weird legion of bloodthirsty baby vamps into the nearby villages and putting the indigenous people in those villages at risk of being wiped out.”
“
Si
.”
Ba-
BUMP
. I was literally lifted from the seat before smacking back down hard.
Come to think of it, maybe walking wouldn’t be such a terrible thing after all.
“And you know where he is?”
“Yes, he has moved into some ruins near Taipiplaya. His group has grown considerably. We believe there are almost twenty of them now. But it’s hard to know for certain.”
Damn. Twenty baby vamps in the early stages of bloodlust, doing the bidding of some nutjob who had them believing he was a vampire god.
No wonder I was here.
In the three years since vampires had been outed to the world—in part because of me—most countries had come up with systems to deal with those who went rogue and rejected the
very
strict laws of the vampire council.
The trouble was, rogues were usually individuals.
A highly trained kill squad, like the one the Special Intelligence Service had, would be able to manage one or two vampires easily. There were protocols: silver bullets, beheading, sunlight. These teams were skilled, smart, and effective. They didn’t need someone like me for the regular jobs.
But any vampire who could exert control over twenty newborns and start killing off whole villages? That was beyond anyone’s scope.
Almost anyone.
This was more than my job, this was my calling. I’d spent most of my adult life hunting vampires and other supernatural freaks. When supes had gone public, my role shifted a bit, and I became the face of Human-Supernatural Relations in America.
Why?
Well, when you were born half-vampire, half-werewolf, and you stop the apocalypse while the world is watching, you inadvertently draw a
lot
of attention.
I had died.
And then I’d come back.
Now I was human, but people still seemed to have a lot of the same expectations of me. One of which was that when shit hit the fan, I’d show up with a mop and bucket.
Or in this case a gun loaded with silver bullets.
Turns out being human didn’t mean I suddenly decided to be a fragile little flower who sat behind a desk. I might not be as strong or as fast anymore, and I couldn’t shift into a wolf or flash vampire fang, but I was still
good
.
One of the best.
Fighting the undead for a decade left me with a certain set of skills that would have made Liam Neeson blush with pride.
Am I bragging?
Sorry, not sorry.
We hit another bump, and I braced myself on the backseat. I’m fairly certain a monkey laughed at me from a tree nearby. Bastard.
“I don’t mean to offend you, Ms. McQueen, but you are a very small woman. Are you sure you don’t want any help from our unit?”
“That depends, Eduardo.”
“On what?”
“Do you want your men to make it home alive tonight?”
When I’d pictured
ruins
, I had thought of moldering old fortresses or castles in disrepair. What I hadn’t imagined was a series of doors carved into the face of a huge stone ledge beneath a waterfall.
Which, of course, would be a perfect place for vampires to hide.
Better yet would be if the ruins couldn’t be reached by road and were only accessible via the sheer cliff face.
Now this was my idea of a vacation.
Eduardo parked the jeep near the top of the waterfall, and we both made our way to the rocky outcropping that looked down into the cool teal pool below. The sound of crashing water cancelled out all the rest of the jungle noises, until the only thing I could hear was the dull roar of the waterfall and my own heartbeat throbbing in my ears.
“We think they are gaining access from there.” He pointed out three caves near the water, each about twenty feet from the other.
Most of the front-facing edifices that might have once resembled something like the rock mesa homes in New Mexico had crumbled thanks to the damp environment and pressure of the running water. Still, there were definite signs that this used to be a place dozens of people lived.
Now life had returned to these homes, but not like before.
Today death would visit as well.
“Do you have what I asked for?” I gave him an expectant look, realizing I should have clarified this before we’d left civilization.
He blushed, almost sheepishly, and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I could not find exactly what you requested. Not many shops carry katanas on short notice.” The way he said
katana
was slightly wrong, but sounded better than the original somehow. He must have seen the way my brows were coming together in concern, because he raised a hand quickly. “But I have something I think will work just as well.”
We went around to the back of the jeep, where I pushed the bulletproof vest aside and grabbed my duffel bag. The vampires wouldn’t shoot me, and I wanted to be light and quiet going in. Adding a bulky Kevlar vest to my frame would only slow me down.
I’d save it for the next time I went head-to-head with necromancer bikers or insane human servants.
As I unzipped my bag, Eduardo opened up a lockbox that was tucked behind our seats. While he dug around for whatever he’d brought me, I strapped my Sig’s holster to my thigh for easier reach and stowed a few spare clips of silver bullets in my belt pouches. A hunting knife—also silver—fit perfectly inside the special slot I’d had added to my knee-high boots.
I had to admit, it was pretty nice to be able to work with silver weapons now and not need to worry about the metal burning my flesh.
Desmond—being a werewolf—wasn’t thrilled with me keeping them around the apartment, but he knew what he was getting into when he married me.
Once I was outfitted—including a too-tight climbing harness—Eduardo held out what he’d brought me. “It’s not a sword, but I think you’ll find it very efficient.”
He placed the machete in my waiting palms, and I withdrew it from the leather carrying case. The blade—matte steel—looked sharp and well used. The weight of it in my hands was slightly heavier than I was accustomed to, but still comfortable.
I touched the blade, just to be sure, and my finger opened up so easily I barely felt the cut until it started bleeding. Sticking the wound in my mouth, I sucked and gave him an approving nod. “That’ll do.”
Eduardo smiled, pleased with my reaction.
Sword or machete, it didn’t really matter as long as the thing was sharp and sturdy enough to take a guy’s head off. I’d need to account for the shorter, wider surface area, but I was a quick study when it came to instruments of death.
It took one to know one.
I affixed the machete’s sheath to my belt at an easy grabbing angle and got the AR-15 out of the front seat where I’d left it. I wouldn’t be able to comfortably use both weapons in the caves, but I could figure out which one I wanted to carry when I was down on solid ground.
For now I just wanted options, because one human against twenty vampires wasn’t the greatest of odds.
“I don’t suppose you have any grenades in that magic box, do you?” I grinned, because I was mostly kidding, but Eduardo didn’t smile.
He also didn’t hesitate.
Back into the lockbox he went, rummaging with the kind of single-minded focus one usually only sees on a dog that has caught the scent of a squirrel. A moment later he straightened up, triumphant, and handed me a heavy green egg.
“I would not recommend using it in there,” he cautioned gravely. “You may mean to kill them, but you would be dooming yourself as well.”
“Noted.” Into a pouch went the grenade.
I returned to the front of the jeep where I clipped the metal hook from the winch and affixed it to my climbing harness.
“Have you ever done this before?” he asked.
“What, hunted vampires? Sure, lots of times.” I backed towards the edge of the cliff, mentally going through my weapon inventory to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything.
“No. Rappelled down a cliff using only a winch.”
I glanced down at the claw hook latched below my bellybutton, then gave him my most reassuring smile. “No. But how hard can it be?”
Famous last words.
Well, Secret, as it turns out it’s actually very hard to rappel down things.
Lesson learned.
I braced myself against the side of the cliff face, my arms and legs shaking like they were made out of Jell-O. Perhaps I should have assessed the distance before jumping off the ledge. And maybe a smarter woman would have inched their way down.
Nausea swelled in my belly, and I fought the urge to puke on the slick rocks.
If there was a long way up, I was taking it.
“Ms. McQueen. Are you all right?” Eduardo’s voice drifted a hundred feet down to meet me. “I don’t think you were supposed to go that fast.”
“No, I’m cool.” I gave him a thumbs-up and a fake smile, swallowing back the knot in my stomach. Now I just had to hope this was the worst part of the day.
I unhooked myself from the harness and got out of the binding contraption, feeling instantly more relaxed without it riding up my crotch. I double-checked all my weapons and found nothing missing.
Show time.
The easiest access to the waterfall caves was along a narrow ledge that went right under the cascading water.
I couldn’t tell if that would make my frizzy hair more or less of a disaster.
I hugged the wall, wanting the option to grab on to the rocks if things got slippery, and inched my way along until I was within reach of the first cave. The smell hit me immediately, which I didn’t think was possible with my now-reduced human senses.
Under the damp, humid scents of rotting vegetation and jungle air, and the clean wet smell of the waterfall, was the unmistakable reek of death. The pungent rot of blood and decaying bodies.