Downbeat (Biting Love) (32 page)

“Stuff it. Get her in there. It’s going to Iowa. She’ll be safe with Elias.”

We stopped in Meiers Corners to gather people from Julian’s and Bo’s households. In our van, Nixie and Elena sat grimly on benches across from each other, their babies strapped in car seats next to them, sleeping soundly. I sat between Liese and Twyla Tafel, Meiers Corners’s city admin. Twyla slept against the chest of her fiancé, Nikos, a dark mountain of a man who’d become inexplicably older and smaller last summer. Whatever had happened to ruin his body, it had only honed his spirit, which shone like a nova from his dark eyes.

I was too tired to move and too wired to sleep. A few quiet voices conversed but mostly we were silent. Occasionally I’d glance at the convoy of vans behind us. I wondered how Elias would ever find room for us all.

At one point Nixie roused to say, “Hey, Liese. Where’s Hattie?”

“Mom and Race are on vacation.”

“Again?”

“What can I say? Mom’s retired and Race has money.”

We arrived in Coralville, Iowa a little after five in the morning. A set of seven vans disgorged tired and dusty people in front of what looked like a huge apartment building, easily big enough to house a hundred people or more.

The front door opened. A couple of young men trotted out and helped carry car seats and diaper bags and day cases. We stumbled behind them into a cool hallway. Through my exhaustion the only thing I noticed was the warm glow of the biased oak floor slats and the honey-cinnamon scent in the air.

I found out later that while the place looked like a blank faced seven-story apartment building from the outside, inside it was more like a college dormitory complex—or a palace. It was a six-sided building with a central courtyard cut in two by a narrow walkway from corner to corner. There were windows, but they all faced the courtyard; it was apparently a vampire deterrent. Each floor had a hallway running along the outside perimeter.

Then I only saw the giant foyer and the sweeping staircase. Later I learned the first floor held the household’s common areas, a dining room and kitchen on the right and a meeting room and parlor on the left. The second floor was a fitness center and rec room; the third floor held offices and smaller meeting spaces. The next four floors were dorm-style apartments, each with bedrooms, bath and kitchenette.

We were led upstairs where a gym-teacher of a woman with clipboard and whistle allotted us rooms. I don’t know how, but I ended up in a two-bedroom on the fifth floor holding two cribs and two single cots in one room and two cots in the other with Liese, Nixie, Elena, and babies Jaxxie and Rorik.

Jaxxie was crying, had been from the minute the van stopped. Nixie held her tight, walking the floor, while Elena put Rorik in his crib and Liese and I sat slumped on Nixie’s bed.

“Poor punkin,” Nixie said as the baby stiffened and arched. Nixie’s voice was as tired as her eyes. “Her schedule is all screwed up.”

Elena flopped down on her bed, one hand over her eyes. “He’s activated Project Shield.”

Liese raised her head at that, and her blue eyes sharpened. “The Ancient One?”

“Who’s the Ancient One, and what is Project Shield?” I said.

“Head of the Alliance,” Liese said. “And my boss, Mr. Elias. Project Shield is an arc of Alliance households monitoring the Coterie—the bad guy vamps. Activating Project Shield means putting the households on high alert. That’s why we gathered our noncombatants and came here.”

Elena said, “I also heard the Ancient One is issuing a warning to Nosferatu. That megavamp—he’s out of control.”

“Nosferatu’s an idiot,” Liese said.

Nixie said, “Yeah, once the monster defeats us, what’s to stop him from turning on Nosy? Oh, at last. She’s settling down.”

Jaxxie’s cries had slowed and now she blinked bright blue eyes, her baby lips making sucking noises.

“Momma knows, honey.” Nixie slotted a pacifier between Jaxxie’s smacks. The baby sucked a couple times, then her curly black head wobbled and fell onto Nixie’s shoulder. “She’ll sleep now.” She lay her carefully in the other crib and tucked a blanket around her. She sighed. “Let’s find some coffee and food and talk.”

Elena uncovered her eyes. “Sounds good. But what about the kids?”

Nixie picked up a walkie-talkie-like box and waggled it. “Infant monitor.”

“Right.” Elena heaved herself to her feet. “Let’s find the others and get fueled up. Who knows when the next assault will be?”

We gathered Twyla and Gretchen, Elena’s blonde cheerleader of a sister, now settled into solid matronhood with her two kids and a third on the way. Twyla’s fiancé, Nikos, and Gretchen’s husband, Steve, who had accompanied us from Illinois, had taken Gretchen’s children off for exercise.

We wandered in search of the kitchen. And wandered. The Ancient One’s building was huge, and because of the split hexagonal shape, not all the corridors went where I would’ve thought. We went in a circle at least twice, ending up at our room and double-checking that the kids were peacefully sleeping, then heading off again.

Finally we ran into a guy in black coveralls perched on a ladder, changing smoke detector batteries. He took pity on us and showed us downstairs to the kitchen. There, a young man in a sharp black-and-white chef’s uniform kindly showed us how to work the airline instrument panel masquerading as a coffee pot. He also, with a finger to his lips, slid a really nice coffee cake out of the fridge and left it with us.

We spent half the cake—super fresh cinnamon, the kind that’s like eating sparklers—talking about the attack.

“Maybe we can get Elias to help us,” Twyla said.

“That ancient fucker?” Elena snorted. “We could, but his help always comes at a price.”

Naturally it was Nixie who said, “So, Rocky, Zajicek’s your mate. How’s that asshole working out for you?”

My fingers spasmed; my fork clattered onto my plate. “Dragan’s my
what
?”

“Mate. You know, like husband, but jacked on steroids because it’s vampires.”

Elena tapped the table with the tines of her fork. “Look, sorry I blew my mouth before, but we shouldn’t talk about v-guys in front of her.”

Gretchen shrugged. “Elias is going to erase her memory anyway.”

“Don’t think he is.” Liese cut herself a second piece of cake. “First, mated to a vampire, she’ll be in on the secret. Second, she’s immune. She already knows.”

“She does not.” Elena stared at her like she’d grown a second head.

“Does too.” Liese munched cake. “Remember what she said before all heck broke loose?”

“Excuse me.” I raised my hand. “Not to take sides or anything, but I do know. I’ve known for a while. Why do you think I’ve been feeding you guys information from Nosferatu Central?”

Elena transferred her stare to me. “But Elias erased you!”

“He fuzzed things out,” I admitted. “But I pieced them back together, and then Dragan filled in the cracks. Now, why do you think he’s my mate? He’s a playboy. Not anybody’s idea of a mate.” Though the thought of Dragan permanently in my bed sent luscious hot shivers running over my skin.

“Sure, vamps have tons of sex,” Nixie said. “They’re sexual machines, doing anything and everything to anybody and everybody. But each of them has a Goldilocks out there who tastes and smells just right, who’s also immune to their mind zapping. When they bond, it’s forever.”

“Oh. Well I’m not Dragan’s ‘forever’. He hasn’t said anything about me tasting or smelling right, and he certainly isn’t talking mate.” Although he did think I was special. I let the golden pleasure of that take me for a moment.

“You keep thinking that. Meantime, who’s in for how long she lasts? Me, I’ve got a five that says a week.”

“I’m in,” Elena said. “Put me down for three days—”

A baby’s cry interrupted her.

“That’s Jaxxie.” Nixie jumped to her feet, scooped the monitor from the table and ran from the room. The rest of us exchanged a concerned look.

“Go,” Gretchen said. “Make sure the babies are okay. I’ll clean up.”

We thanked her and ran out the kitchen door after Nixie, catching up at a three-way intersection of corridors that looked like a line bisecting an arrowhead.

She stood, baby monitor in hand, head swiveling three ways, forward, right, and back the way we’d come. “I don’t remember how to get back to our room. God, my baby needs me and I can’t remember where she is! What kind of fucked-up mother am I?”

Elena grabbed her shoulders. “We’ll find her.” She frowned at the three corridors. “Won’t be easy though.”

“That one.” Twyla shot a finger toward the forward corridor. “I recognize that excellent Dali reproduction. At least, I think it’s a reproduction.”

“Good enough.” Elena took the lead and we ran down the corridor.

It led to the foyer with its sweeping central staircase. We ran up, only to find ourselves at the elbow of a long, bent hallway. A freshly showered man came out from a door. The cutting scent of chlorine and pungent tang of a gym wafted out after him.

There were no stairs we could see, no elevator. No way up. The baby continued to cry on the monitor.

“Ahead. It’s the only way.” Elena led us down the length of the hallway, around a bend and down another hall, the baby’s thin wail urging us faster.

My hands were clenched and my teeth nearly powder before we found a cramped stairwell. If we’d gone two feet to the right, we’d have found a bank of elevators. But we didn’t. We slammed into the concrete chimney and ran up three flights.

Panting hard, we piled out on the fifth floor. Three halls confronted us, bend left, bend right and central straight. “Which way?” Nixie yelled.

“They’re marked.” Liese huffed out of the stairwell behind us. “I noticed before.” She pointed at plaques labeled 510-519, 520-523, 501-509. We were in 517.

“Left!” Nixie ran.

We went left. 510, 511…up ahead, after 512, the corridor jagged right. We were almost there.

The cries stopped.

Liese, hand to her side and gasping like a fish, slowed. “She’s…feeling…better.”

Nixie kept running. “No. She’d’ve trailed off. Something’s wrong.”

We careered around the corner and thundered down the hall. Second-last door before the next bend was 517. Elena threw it open and we piled into the room.

Jaxxie’s crib was empty.

“What the fuck?” Nixie ran straight to the crib, tossed the bedding, then dug one hand through her short curls.

Elena ran to Rorik’s crib. He blinked big brown eyes up at her, awake but almost unnaturally quiet. She scooped him up.

Hugging her baby to her, cop mode hardened her gaze and her head swiveled, taking in the scene. “No indication of a break-in.”

I started for the door. “I’ll go look for her.”

“Someone took her.” Nixie spun in a circle as if looking around the room, but the frantic glaze to her eyes said she wasn’t seeing anything. “Why? Who? She’s a good baby. She’d never hurt anyone. She smiles like a little angel. Who could have taken my angel?”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Elena said, but her arms were tight around her own baby. “Maybe one of the neighbors heard her and came to comfort her.”

“Of course!” Nixie ran out of the room, knocking into me and nearly tossing me on my butt though I outweighed her by ten pounds. “Sorry.”

“’S’okay.” I followed her out. She was rapping on 516.

I went down the hallway and knocked on 515. Liese went to 518.

A cheerful forty-ish brunette answered my door. I asked if she’d heard anything.

“The poor baby crying. I was going to go see what I could do, after I got my own kids off to school.” She turned into the apartment and raised her voice. “Time to go! Grab your lunches and get out here
tout de suite
!”

I thanked her. Nixie had turned from her door, her too-pale face telling me she’d also struck out. Liese was still knocking. “I don’t think anyone’s home here.”

“We’ve got to find her,” Nixie said. The monitor was still in her hand.

“We will,” Elena repeated. “Let’s find someone in charge.”

We turned that place upside down before we finally found the lady with the clipboard who turned out to be the housekeeper, a Mrs. Shaddeline. Nixie described Jaxxie’s bright yellow sleeper, blue eyes and black curls while Elena swayed with Rorik. I clasped my elbows, fighting down rising panic. Who’d take a helpless baby? Battling vampires was easy compared to being a mother.

The housekeeper touched an ear piece and put out a call for information.

The answer came a few nail-biting moments later. Someone had heard a crying baby in the office sector.

The housekeeper led us to the bank of elevators we’d missed earlier and pressed the button for the third floor. It seemed to take forever to descend the two flights but was probably only a few seconds. I only knew my heart was pounding and my breath rasping before the housekeeper led us past an office reception area and pointed to a long corridor punctuated with doors. “Your child was heard that way.”

The office doors were open. We sped down the corridor, barely pausing to check inside each. Most were empty.