Chapter 7
Seven
The Order’s jet touched down at Stewart International Airport and taxied to a private hangar, where a sleek black limousine awaited on the asphalt.
Cally sighed and turned to Eve. “Are we doing the right thing?”
Eve lifted one shoulder in a wordless reply, then mimed zipping her lips. In the end, Amelia hadn’t accompanied them, but they’d already agreed they wouldn’t talk of weighty matters on the flight, in case the Order had it bugged.
Their smiling flight attendant reappeared. “Your onward transportation is waiting, and we look forward to seeing you for your return trip tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Cally said out of reflex, and unclipped her lap belt.
They’d only brought overnight bags, and she slung hers onto her shoulder as the flight attendant opened the cabin door. A flight of stairs stood ready, and Cally descended with Eve following close behind.
Two men in dark suits waited beside the limousine.
One wore the peaked cap of a chauffeur, while the other was a younger man, not much older than Cally, with broad shoulders, a trim figure, and a clean-shaven, federal-agent chic.
She didn’t need to see a bulge to know there would be a gun under the jacket.
The man stepped forward as they approached, eyes flicking between her and Eve. “Calista Davis?”
“Cally,” she corrected.
He offered a surprisingly warm smile, dimples on display. “My name is Darian. I’m here to escort you to our headquarters.”
It was neutral language; no mention of the ‘Vigilantia’ or the ‘Order’. He could’ve been any corporate executive meeting a client.
Although Cally doubted many clients turned up wearing jeans and a hoodie.
“This is my friend, Eve,” Cally said.
“Miss Sullivan,” Darian nodded a greeting.
“That’s going to get heavy fast,” Eve replied. “You Order types can use first names, right?”
Darian’s smile became a grin. “I had special training just for that.”
Eve narrowed her eyes.
“Shall we?” Darian said as the chauffeur opened the rear door of the limousine.
“Yeah, let’s go meet your boss,” Cally said, ducking as she climbed within.
Eve followed, choosing a seat near her, and Darian sat opposite. The car rocked gently as the chauffeur took his seat and started the engine, but they didn’t move.
Instead, Darian reached to a shelf beneath the crystal glasses and pulled out two black hoods. “Did they warn you about this part?”
“No,” Cally said bluntly. “They did not.”
“Apologies. But the location of our HQ needs to remain a secret. I’m sure you can understand.” He offered them one each. “And I’m going to need your phones.”
“We’re not wearing those.”
Darian let his hands fall as if he’d expected their reaction and wasn’t bothered.
“I’m afraid this part is non-negotiable.
And I should warn you: they secure around your neck.
Not tightly, but you won’t be able to take them off without my help, and I wouldn’t advise you try.
” A nonchalant shrug. “It’s either that or handcuffs, which are uncomfortable to travel in.
Otherwise you could take them off at the wrong moment, and then I’d have to kill you. ”
She stared at him. “Was that a joke?”
“No,” he said calmly. “But we can pretend it was if it helps.” He proffered the hoods again.
“If we refuse?”
“The plane will take you back to Boston.”
“We’ve come this far, babe,” Eve said, resigned, and handed over her phone in exchange for a hood. “If they wanted to kidnap us, they wouldn’t have bothered with the private jet and a limousine.”
“Fine.” Cally gave her phone over and took the hood with bad grace, pulling it over her head.
A metal wire ran through the hem, and she felt Darian tighten it, pulling it snug around her neck.
The material blocked most of the light, yet was breathable enough to keep her from feeling suffocated.
As the limo pulled away, she could make out the faint shapes of buildings, vague shadows drifting past.
“Just so you know,” Cally spoke loudly, so there was no chance the hood would muffle her words, “if anyone touches me while I’m wearing this, I’m going to rip it off and kick the shit out of them.”
“What she said,” Eve added.
“I take my duty as your escort seriously,” Darian replied. “No one will be near you but me, and any touch will be nothing beyond a guide on your arm. Is that acceptable?”
Cally said nothing, seething. Eve’s hand reached out, brushing her thigh, and Cally clasped it in hers. She wasn’t sure if she was offering comfort or accepting it, but either way, it helped.
It was a long journey into the countryside of upstate New York, made all the more boring by the inability to see anything.
Darian didn’t try to fill the silence with conversation, and Eve was uncharacteristically quiet, as though the hood had sapped some of her joie de vivre.
It left Cally time to contemplate what they might expect, and whether Noah would be angry when he saw her text message: back tomorrow.
Even angrier if she wasn’t back tomorrow.
Her thoughts turned to Antoine, floating in his hellhole, and how far from ready they were to rescue him.
Gabe’s thralls were pulling together the equipment they needed, scouting WHOI, and preparing for extraction.
The most optimistic estimate was two more weeks.
According to a WHOI press release, the Human Occupied Vehicle deep-sea submersible Alvin was scheduled to depart on a research project in Puerto Rico early November and wouldn’t be back until the New Year. Time was tight.
Not long to finalize a plan and acquire everything they’d need to execute it.
But there was nothing she could do but wait, and hope Gabe had it under control.
How long could Antoine survive without blood before he turned feral?
How long could she go without being fed upon before her power swelled so much it killed her?
Cally swallowed hard, the noise muffled by the hood.
Antoine had told her, through Noah, that if she needed to, she could ask Gabe for help. But Antoine didn’t know Gabe had already fed on her—she’d never told him. Feed enough times, Belle had said, and a new bond would be formed. She hadn’t been sure how many it would take.
What if Gabe formed a bond with her?
She didn’t love Gabe. She barely knew him. Sure, he was nice enough, and he helped them out, but who was he really?
Too little on which to base an eternal bond. And she knew how Antoine would react.
What a fucking mess.
Maybe the Order knew something of the bond, or had books she could use to research it.
But how could she even ask without giving away that secret?
From what Amelia had said, they existed to fight vampires.
They would hardly take a positive view of her being bonded to one. Or two. Let alone sleeping with one.
Darian shifted. “We’re here.”
Finally. She couldn’t wait to get this hood off.
The road beneath the limousine’s tires changed from the smooth whir of asphalt to the crunch of gravel, and the vehicle slowed and swerved around in a wide circle before gliding smoothly to a stop.
The door opened a moment later. Darian rose, crouched almost double under the low roof, his figure indistinct through her hood. His hand grasped her upper arm.
“Ready?”
Ready for what?
She let herself be led out of the car and waited on the gravel while he went back for Eve. The air carried a crisp coolness, with faint scents of pine, grass, and lingering rain. Small stones crunched beneath her feet.
It was tempting to reach for her hood, but this wasn’t the time to anger them.
Darian’s fingers closed around her bicep again, and with a gentle tug, he led her away from the limousine. Two sets of footsteps walked beside her.
“Eve?”
“Here.” Her voice came from Darian’s other side, and sounded nervous.
“Steps,” Darian said, slowing, and waiting while Cally felt with her foot for the first. Then he guided them up.
A porch? It made sense. There were some very large estates in this part of upstate New York, hidden discreetly amid lakes and forests, and when she considered how old the Order must be, that made sense too.
Lots of money, lots of time to invest, fingers in many pies, strands of their influence reaching out.
Yet she’d never even known they existed.
Another footstep ahead of them and the sound of a door opening. Warmer air as they walked inside. Dark walls, glimpsed through the hood. A carpet beneath her feet, the smell of pine and grass replaced with leather and the sharp tang of furniture polish.
Darian led them along a hallway that stretched for a while and gave some impression of the size of the house. He paused, his hand leaving her arm, and there was a sharp knock on a door before it was opened. Then his hand returned, urging her forward.
“Ah! There she is,” said a voice. “And with her friend, too. Which one is…?”
Darian didn’t reply, but maybe he indicated some other way.
The voice spoke again. “We can dispense with the hoods now.”
“Yes, Primus,” Darian said, and his hands tugged at the wire around her neck. Cally tilted her head forward to give him better access, the wire coming loose. Darian stopped when it was unfastened and didn’t try to pull it off, and she appreciated that. She tugged it away herself.
The room was a library. No, study, she corrected herself as she saw the large mahogany desk before her.
But the walls were full of bookcases and rich wood paneling, the carpet a dark green.
Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of lawns, trees, gray sky, and little else—nothing to indicate where they were.
The man before her was short and thin, his remaining gray hair combed over.
He wore a dark suit with a shirt and tie, and a smile that was perhaps supposed to be welcoming, but didn’t reach his impassive brown eyes.
His features were narrow and pinched, giving him the appearance of an undertaker or a tax auditor.