Midnight Reign (29 page)

“So Limpet’s all alone now,” Matt said.

“Almost.” Something inside of Benedikte throbbed—a craving, a wounding hunger. “You’d probably agree that Dawn is the wild card, but I can tell you that she’s primed to come to our side.”

“All ours.” The PI smiled.

The Master’s hackles rose. “Not quite.”

The Servant obviously knew what that meant. Dawn didn’t belong to human Matt at all. In fact, he’d never even come face-to-face with her. Bringing her Underground—and using her to take down Limpet—had been the plan all along, ever since they’d heard she was back in Hollywood.

“Let Limpet attack now,” Benedikte added. “We’ll be ready for any ineffectual attempts.”

“Congratulations.” Matt reached out to shake hands, but pulled back when he realized it was too familiar. “We’re almost done with the enemy. Pretty soon, it’ll be back to good times.”

Benedikte accepted the handshake anyway. “Now, I need you to go Above and fetch Charity Flynn, otherwise known as Amanda Grace. We’re gathering all Elites, and she might need an escort to tear her away from her big premiere tonight.”

“Got it.”

The Master went on to brief the Servant as much as he could since the PI needed to know every interaction with Dawn so the masquerade would be complete, in case he ever
did
run into Dawn himself. He even went so far as to strike the stalwart human with wounds that matched the ones Dawn had inflicted on Benedikte. Then Matt took his leave.

Like Tamsin, he cast one last look back, bemusement clearly written all over his face.

It must’ve been strange to see your own body doubled—a walking, talking mirror reflection in life’s funhouse.

And that’s what existence had indeed become since Dawn Madison had arrived—bright, intriguing, and hopeful.

Within minutes, the real Matt finally left to return to his home Above, where he’d take up where the “other Matt” had left off, discretely going about life as usual in his regular job at the private investigation firm. He’d never been hired by any “mysterious client” to find Frank Madison—that had only been the Master’s ruse to get close to Dawn. A good ruse. And Matt also wasn’t a vampire hunter, as she clearly suspected. But there were a couple of truths to the charade: the real Matt’s parents
had
been murdered, even though Servants had gone on the Internet and planted news stories to dramatize the circumstances. Using Bruce Wayne’s mythology as a backstory had been too tempting for Benedikte to resist, but everyone Above had worked with that.

Alone now, the Master took a moment to compose himself. Preparation, the actors called it. Finally, he’d become one of them, no longer a coward who didn’t want to see if he had what it took to “make it.” With this body he’d assumed for Dawn’s sake, he was performing the most award-worthy role in existence.

Eva would be proud.

He left the room, closing it up, then continued his tunnel walk toward the Underground. All the while, he transformed back into his most comfortable form: vapor-thick darkness.

As he transitioned, he thought of Dawn again, as he did more and more every day.
His.
She wasn’t terribly pure, but that could be changed. Like the movies they made Above, the right props and scripts could make her the perfect woman someday.

He’d taken so many risks to be with her, made a few miscalculations, too—especially when he’d given Eva’s dress to her.
That
had been idiotic, and it still bothered him. He’d been too intent on merging mother and daughter that night. But now he’d slow down, never do anything so heedless again. With Eva’s help—and with “Matt’s”—Dawn would be manipulated into bringing down Limpet.

Floating the rest of the way into the Underground, Benedikte went straight to a private room.

He stopped outside a one-way window, looking in from the outside. Through the pane, he could see Sorin scowling at a tentative Eva and her new guest.

As Benedikte focused on Frank Madison, his outline crackled.

Eva’s story had been too strange not to be true. She’d told them that, after seeing how Frank had beaten Breisi’s location out of Julia the Servant, Eva had tracked her husband to the woods. She’d been able to bring Frank back here, but only after losing Dawn to Limpet’s unexpected “Friends.” Too bad the Underground hadn’t anticipated them—one or two hidden Elites would’ve taken care of the protective ghosts and Dawn would be down here now, too.

Pressing against the window, Benedikte assessed his rival. Bedraggled, wide shoulders hunched, dark brown hair tufting up, Frank Madison’s face was a study in blank expressionism. Not much competition there. He would’ve made a nice Guard, actually. So why did he hold Eva under such a spell?

One glance at the way she hopelessly looked at her withdrawn husband increased the mystery even more. It charred Benedikte from the inside out, making him steam.

Didn’t Frank appreciate Eva?

Master?
It was Sorin, glancing at Benedikte from the corner of his eyesight.

I’m here.

Benedikte hadn’t updated his second in command about the meeting with Dawn yet. Using Awareness Above was foolish, since, over the years, he and Sorin had realized that it could be picked up on by blood brothers. It was only while they were buried under the earth’s layers that vampires were free to use their powers without detection.

That’s why the Master hadn’t utilized more than one mind trick on Dawn. He’d tried to discover what she knew about Milton Crockett when she’d visited “Matt’s” home that night, but she’d blocked him.

His Dawn was so good at that.

But here Below…Benedikte was tempted to infiltrate Eva’s mind, just to see if she truly loved Frank as much as she said. Yet the Master wouldn’t do it. His love was too pure for such games. Besides, Eva was skillful enough not to let him in if she chose to block her Awareness. She’d feel his efforts to invade, and he’d have to pay a big price for the attack.

As Sorin used his maker/high-child Awareness, he remained unruffled.
So Eva has returned with her new pet. She said Frank found her after a month of “tooling around” in Alaska. He had grown weary of the private detective life—as is his pattern with jobs—and tried to procure work in a new, adventurous location. But, she claims, when he could not find employment, he returned to Los Angeles. Here, he was struck by Jacqueline Ashley’s resemblance to Eva Claremont, and he tracked her to the house on Bedford. When he found her absent, he used a Limpet brain trick on Julia to ferret out information regarding Eva. At the same time, he came across the Vampire Killer scheme. Then he rescued Dawn and went to save his fellow hunter Breisi Montoya. Eva punished him well enough, but it is all fairly…interesting.

Can Julia confirm this?

Eva’s Servant was mind altered by Frank…so it seems. Hence, there is no record of what actually happened tonight. Eva’s story is the only one we have at the moment.

This was true: besides having no camera transmission save for the beginning of the Killer’s performance, Sorin couldn’t silently communicate with a bunch of distant Guards Above who were too weak to have word Awareness.

But…The Master went back to what Sorin had said about Eva. Was his son hinting that the Elite had brainwashed her Servant?

Eva would never do that. Sorin didn’t know her at all—not like Benedikte did.

His son must’ve heard his thoughts.
The danger is: Dawn Madison knows her mother is alive. Eva revealed herself, and now Dawn is on the loose. That was not supposed to happen, Master. When Dawn found out, we were supposed to have her under our sway already.

Sorin, Limpet is just about destroyed. Let him attack.

What if there is a different danger out there? What if Eva has revealed us to another with her carelessness?

Benedikte shook his head, on such a high with tonight’s success that he couldn’t be brought down.
Dawn won’t be a threat. She’s just as alone as Limpet is right now.

Sorin paused.
Eva did say that Dawn is disillusioned with her boss….

And in this disillusionment, she’s going to turn to family and also to the one man Above who offers her help. That’s Matt Lonigan. And you know I’ve got that covered.

When Dawn had first gotten involved, Benedikte had been the one to come up with the masquerade. Since he could shift into diverse forms, it only made sense. “Matt” would be there to place doubt in Dawn’s mind about anyone else except him, just as he’d done a month ago at Klara Monaghan’s crime scene. “Matt” would win her over, would direct her suspicions about these Vampire Killer murders away from actual vampires.

“Matt” was invaluable.

Besides, Benedikte had longed to meet her, and when he realized just how much she could help the Underground, justifying his growing attachment to her had been simple. And when there’d been an entire month during the lockdown when he’d only been able to phone her, excuses about his absence had been easy, too.

It was all easy.

The Master was having the time of his life with this acting, even if Sorin hadn’t liked this charade one bit. But Benedikte had been careful to shield himself 99.9 percent of the time, and his son had to admit that these trips had given his father a reason to exist again. Who could argue with that?

Sorin had grown quiet. He tilted his head as he considered Eva, reflecting in the usual inquisitive vampire pose.

You absolutely trust her,
his son said.

Benedikte lavished a gaze over his angel, taking in her long blond hair, her pure beauty, and ignoring how she watched Frank with such delicate longing. In her, he saw everything that used to move him while sitting in a place of worship.

I trust her with everything, Sorin.

Yes, Master. But
you
know what Elites are capable of. They captivate the world with their acting. Do you not think she could do the same to you?

Benedikte could feel himself heating up to a sizzle.

You’re questioning me again.
His thoughts were as low as a growl.
Haven’t I brought us this far?

No answer. Benedikte took that as a yes.

The Master smiled.
Maybe you’ll only be satisfied when I have Limpet’s head on a stick?

Now Sorin glanced over at the one-way mirror, his smile reflecting his maker’s.
That would satisfy me a great deal.

Then it’s time to finally wipe our hands of our enemy…quietly, as usual.

When his son chuckled out loud, a ravaged Eva turned away from her nonresponsive husband to face Sorin, then the mirror.

As she cocked her head, the Master pressed closer against the glass, tilting his head, too, worshipping her from a dangerous distance.

A
S
Dawn all but stumbled up to the front door of the Limpet house, the UV lights blasted on, stinging her eyes.

She opened then slammed shut the door. “Kiko?”

She sounded like she was about to jump off a cliff, and maybe that was the truth. Nothing made sense, and it seemed like the only way to make things better was to annihilate herself then build from scratch.

But the only response she got was her own thin voice, chopping back at her from the corners of the house.

Why didn’t she ever get answers?

Anger exploded, pushing Dawn into a run toward Breisi’s lab door. She knew it’d be locked, but she needed to try to get in anyway. Pounding with her fists, kicking, she took perverse pleasure at the punishment the door was taking.

But soon, her minor kicks and punches turned into flails, then a fight to keep back more tears.

“Damn this.” Dawn slammed her heel against the door, once, again. She leaned her head against it. “Damn…every…thing…”

A click caused her to stumble forward, the door giving way. Breathing heavily, she watched as it cracked open.

For a second, she could only stare. Breisi had always kept the door as secure as an armory’s, and Dawn had only been able to imagine what was down there.

What kind of science experiments, fantastic inventions?

Holding back the sorrow, Dawn rubbed her hands over her face, preparing herself to find out.

A droning buzz escorted her down a stone staircase. It was illuminated by lifeless blue light, which only grew stronger as Dawn descended farther, hand against the granite wall.

Buzzzzzz…

The sound attacked her, but she didn’t dare cover her ears. Ignoring her pained arm, she pulled out her whip chain.

But when she reached the bottom, she dropped her weapon.

The blue light was coming from the ceiling, which had been designed to look like a heaven, complete with painted clouds amidst soft azure neon fixtures. Below, an army of computers, plus the expected lab equipment, stood abandoned: steel tables holding the unfinished structures of projects Breisi would never fool around with again, space-agey machines Dawn couldn’t even begin to explain. But there was also a trundle bed with white railing and fluffy linen bedclothes and pillows. Next to that stood a lace-mantilla-covered end table with a reading lamp and pictures of a very young Breisi and her grandmother hugging.

Dawn walked over to pick up one of those. It felt like her ribs had turned inward, bleeding her.

Breisi, so help me, I couldn’t do anything….

She held the picture to her chest, pressing so hard the metal frame cut into her.

When she heard footsteps, she didn’t even glance up.

Silence. Then more steps. Then The Voice, his unamplified words making it sound as if he were in the room. But it was him. She knew it.

“I wanted to help her.” His tone was like the aftermath of a decimated city: crumbled and haunted. “But we lost contact, and Hatsu, her Friend, disappeared. They’re all disappearing, one by one….”

Tautness strung the air together, linked only by the buzzing machine in the corner. Breisi had lived here. She’d made the Limpet house her home, made the team her family. Dawn wanted to cry even more.

“Can you tell me what happened?” The Voice asked.

Dawn tried to talk, couldn’t, but then gathered herself and tried again. It was rough but audible. “You really have no idea? You never saw the—”

She almost said “video,” but Eva had said the transmission hadn’t gone public.

Something tapped at her brain. Video. The broadcast. But she couldn’t hold on to it.

The Voice abolished the silence. “We only have her…” He stopped, then started again. “We found Breisi’s body set out in the backyard, and she’s being carefully seen to.”

“Thanks to Eva.” Dawn wasn’t going to give that vamp credit for carrying Breisi away from the cops, for giving her back to the people who cared about her. Eva could apologize in a thousand different ways and it wouldn’t make up for anything.

“The Friends have already told me many things about what happened.” A footstep echoed. “Can you tell me, Dawn?”

“Do I need to repeat it? You’ve set us all up.”

“What did you say?”

His voice blasted out with such wounded ire that Dawn dropped the picture. It shattered to the floor, jags of glass killing Breisi a second time. Dawn wouldn’t take her gaze off that, somehow knowing she could’ve stopped this, too.

But it gave her an odd strength, and she felt herself whipping around to face his darkness. “You knew about Eva. Why didn’t you warn me? She took me, Jonah. She has Frank, too. It makes me wonder if you knew something that could’ve saved Breisi, but maybe you weren’t telling
her
, either—”

“Frank is with her?” Relief, pure and simple, weighed his voice. “And Eva took you to be with both of them?”

Now he didn’t sound relieved so much as remorseful.

“Yes, I was kidnapped. Did you really think I ditched you and the team, even if Eva pretended she was me on the phone?”

The Voice didn’t say anything, which meant he’d had doubts about her, too. How? What had she done to burn
him
? Just because she wasn’t a natural do-gooder like Breisi or Kiko didn’t mean she lacked loyalty or more noble qualities. Did he think that little of her?

His laden sigh filled the room, seeping into her. But she was already too soaked with grief, saturated enough to hit rock bottom and stay there.

She sank down to Breisi’s bed.

More footsteps. But he still didn’t come out of the shadows.

“Kiko’s prophecy, where you’re victorious over the vampires…” Pause. “He also predicted that you’d have to make a choice, Dawn, and you’d have to arrive at that decision yourself. Just know that I kept you uninformed because I couldn’t afford to turn you against me until you were already invested in our cause. This meant you would eventually come to hate me….” His voice cracked. “But I was prepared. I am
always
prepared because that’s why I exist.”

“To serve your crusade?” she bit out. “That’s why you…” She primed herself to finally say it. “That’s why you used me as bait again—to see if Jac was an Underground vampire?”

“I need you, Dawn.”

No voice tricks, no hypnosis. He just sounded terribly human.

She stared straight ahead. “The good of the many outweighs the good of the few, right?”

“This is the most powerful vampire community I’ve ever met, and the best hidden. I’ve never needed more than my spirits and a few well-chosen humans to act as my eyes and ears outside. But we’ll be the victors, somehow, even if there’s always a price. I learned that early.”

“How?”

“Through other facades, just like Limpet and Associates, which exists only to find this Underground.”

She took that in. “So all our cases, like Robby’s and the Vampire Killer’s…We don’t take them on unless they’ll lead Underground. And when your team finds them, that’s when you step in.”

“As I always do.”

“So there’ve been other…Undergrounds?”

“Many.”

His voice seemed even closer and, only now, did it raise something up inside of her, something that had been slain when Breisi died. Raw feeling, even more than Matt had stirred. But his tone wasn’t hitting her in a physical way; it was at the core of her, soothing what needed to be soothed.

She didn’t want that. Didn’t want him.

“So let me get this straight,” she said, an edge to her tone. “About a year ago, you started collecting your lambs for the slaughter here in L.A. for
this
facade?”

“Every one of my fighters is precious to me.” His voice had dragged itself back to a growl. “I had a hunch about all the strange movie-star murders—and I felt the presence of a master—so that’s when I began recruiting.”

“Why a new team? Do they all die before your next mission?”

“I ask every one of them what they are willing to do for a bigger cause, Dawn. They all have the same answer: anything. You said the same, too, when it came to helping us find Frank. I have to depend upon a literal interpretation of ‘anything’ or I have nothing.”

It was a roundabout answer, goading her to ask, “Just how many times have you done this before?”

When he didn’t answer, Dawn asked, “Am I on the right side? Why did you let this happen to Breisi,
why
?”

“The terrible part is that I did not let anything happen tonight. It was beyond my control. Far beyond my control.”

If he hadn’t sounded so troubled about that, Dawn would’ve attacked the dark. But there was something much more frightening at work here: maybe The Voice wasn’t all-powerful. Maybe he was in over his head just as much as everyone else.

“Then why do you want to hunt this Underground?” she asked. “Why don’t you just back off and stop?”

“Because I cannot.”

She knew that was all she was going to get. But then, as if he wanted to make up for it, he offered something else.

“A while ago, I lost an entire team because one of them used knowledge they shouldn’t have ever possessed. She knew
too
much. The team divided because of it, and we lost our quarry, so I learned my lesson and applied it this time to avoid a repeated disaster of that magnitude.” He let out a breath. “Whether the world Above knows it or not, we are at war. And war is not merely physical combat—it’s built on lying, torture, and mental games. It’s the utilization of anything that works, and I
will
do whatever it takes to win. You would, too.”

Maybe he thought he’d earned her trust with that nibblet. But he hadn’t. It’d take a lot more.

Something on a steel table caught her eye. On weak legs, she managed to rise, to go to it.

When she touched the object, she couldn’t hold back anymore.

It was a bladed crossbow, only half-formed like a creature caught in the middle of death and existence.

“She was making it for you,” The Voice said. “Breisi knew how much you admired her own weapon.”

On a ragged sob, Dawn hunched over the table, depending on it to keep her standing. She pushed at the crossbow but it was attached to the table, immovable. “Damn you to hell, Jonah.”

“Well said,” he whispered.

She darted a glare toward the location of his voice. Darkness. “Can’t you just give me a sign of faith, just one? Can’t you make Breisi’s death meaningful in the least?”

“Nothing can do that.”

Giving up, she rested her head in her arms, rubbing her tears off on her jacket. She was done. No more.

“Dawn?”

She heard a stirring behind her, then another sigh, this one a surrender of sorts.

Then she felt the shocking tingle of someone at her back.

Almost not wanting to, she raised her head, chills digging down her spine, skin more alive than ever. Slowly, she turned her head to find him right behind her.

Jonah.

Words vibrated in her throat but wouldn’t come.

The details of him finally completed the blanks from the few pictures she’d unearthed. Dark hair that had grown out slightly, curling like soft down. Tall, lanky but filled out through the shoulders and chest. Dressed in an outdated silk coat over a white shirt and trousers. But his face—God, his face stunned her the most.

It wasn’t his topaz eyes, almost almond-shaped, reddened from Breisi’s death. It wasn’t even his etched cheekbones and full lips.

It was the scars, long razored crisscrossing welts, angry and tragic.

A broken saint, was all she could think. A young man in his early thirties who’d already seen too much to endure.

He rendered her even more speechless when he held out a lone daisy, an offering of peace or…maybe something else she didn’t have the strength to handle.

She didn’t take the flower. Couldn’t.

Jarred by her rejection, he withdrew it, looking around the room as if lost. He set the daisy on a table near him, his skin going red.

“Help me,” he said simply, jaw clenching, as if he were barring himself from further agony. “I don’t want to beg, but you’re the only way we’re going to beat them.”

The enemy: her mom, the other vamps.

She didn’t know who was what anymore.

“I never did get the chance to…” Jonah used his hands to help him formulate whatever it was he needed to say. “Last night, at the party…”

He wanted to check her over.

She didn’t move as he came forward, hand outstretched as if to gentle her. It was only now that she saw beyond the scars.

His eyes burned with a compelling force she couldn’t resist. It was as if this was where he lived—in his gaze—and that’s where she should join him.

He looked into her, just a momentary flare. But then, whether it was required or not, he laid a palm to her forehead—a cool hand battered with rough, male skin. She allowed her eyes to close. Allowed her body to stop resisting, just this once.

His touch was voltage to her system, her belly tightening and heating. And when he pulled away, all her worst instincts wanted to haul him right back to her, not necessarily for the physical satisfaction, but because he understood the pain.

He might’ve been the only one who did.

Jonah looked at the ground, fisting his hands. And when he raised his scarred face again, his brutally forceful gaze, Dawn didn’t like what she saw.

Shattered ire.

“You’ve been mind wiped,” he said, voice ragged.

Dawn touched her neck.

“I’m going to gut every last one of them.” His face had grown so red that his scars stood out like white blades. His neck veins mimicked the scars, pulsing as he turned around, addressing the room—or the world. “I
will
find out which one you are, you demon bastard! I’ll—”

The room shook, the walls exhaling bits of dust.

“Jonah!”

He turned back around and the rumbling stopped. But his eyes still held the wrath of vengeance. “I don’t think they exchanged with you. No blood exchange, no turning.”

“I’m…not one of them.” Thank God, sweet Jesus.

“They were trying to get information out of you. I imagine you mind blocked them, Dawn.”