Read Thirst No. 3: The Eternal Dawn Page 18


  “What do you think?” Teri asks. “I feel guilty leaving all my friends. You’re the ones who made this all possible.”

  “The president will meet with you for a few minutes and send you on your way. You can always come back here. This party has plenty of life in it.”

  “All right.” She hugs me and turns to leave, but something keeps her by my side. “Alisa?”

  “Yes, Ms. Olympic Champion?”

  “Thanks for that smile at the start of the race.”

  “I’m amazed you saw us in the crowd.”

  “I knew where you were sitting. But it’s not that. When you smiled at me, it’s funny, I felt everything was going to be all right. That I was going to win.”

  “You had faith?” I tease her.

  She smiles. “Maybe.” She turns serious. “It was deeper than that. I felt you ran the race with me. At the end, when the pain was overwhelming, I had this moment of doubt. I thought, I can’t do it. Then I saw your face again in my mind, and my doubt vanished.”

  I brush her long hair from her eyes, a habit of mine.

  “We were all with you, Teri. But you were alone on that track, and you faced that fear alone. Don’t forget that. It will give you a special kind of strength that will stay with you for the rest of your life.”

  She hugs me. “I feel like I’ve changed inside.”

  I squeeze her in return but stay silent.

  Teri and Matt leave the party and go off to Matt’s room to change. Teri is famous for taking forever to dress and fix her makeup. Seymour, of course, acts like he should get to meet the president.

  “He’s a fan of my books,” he says.

  “Under which pen name?” I ask.

  “All of them.”

  Shanti goes off to bed. Seymour and I sit alone in a corner and drink wine and smoke cigarettes. I’ve taken up the habit to keep him happy, but only smoke in his company. He nods in the direction Teri disappeared.

  “How does she feel?” he asks, and I know what he means.

  “She’s going to be all right.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “She pushed herself to the limit but not beyond it.”

  “You know you have a problem now.”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Her coach is already talking about the next Olympics. Between now and then Teri expects to break the world record a dozen times. How’s she going to feel when the magic wears off ?”

  “Disappointed. But she’ll never forget tonight.”

  Seymour shakes his head. “I think that ‘fifteen minutes of fame’ bullshit is overrated.”

  “How would you know? You’re afraid to come out of the shadows.”

  “So says the world’s last vampire.”

  I touch my wineglass to his. “Touché.”

  Then I feel it. I hear it. I sense them.

  Seymour sees my face change and asks what’s wrong, but I gesture for him to be silent. However, he follows as I hurry from the party out into an empty lounge area. There I sit cross-legged in a leather chair and close my eyes. My subtle hearing spreads out into the night, like a vast fishing web thrown over a dark sea. I cannot see the predators that await me, but I’m suddenly convinced they are there.

  Four powerful heartbeats. Four pounding pulses—of a type I have only heard once before in my life, the night the assassin Claudious Ember came for me. They approach from four separate directions. They’re still miles away and appear in no hurry to reach me, probably because they’re confident they already have me.

  Opening my eyes, I explain my dilemma to Seymour.

  “How can I help?” he asks when I’m finished.

  “Get out of here. It will only distract me if I have to protect you.”

  “I’m not going to leave you.”

  “Then give me a brilliant idea that will allow me to stop them. Make it quick.”

  “Are you sure there are only four?”

  “Four in a ten-mile radius. Beyond that, I can’t tell.”

  “Are you armed?”

  I gesture to my leather coat. “I have a Glock .45 semiautomatic.”

  “How many spare clips?”

  “Three.”

  “Can you tell what they’re carrying?”

  “I hear their weapons banging into each other. They’re carrying some kind of bags. We have to assume they’re more heavily armed than I am.”

  “What if you run as fast as you can in one direction? Can you kill one of them and keep from getting boxed in?”

  “I doubt it. They increased their pace the moment we came out here. That means they must have me under observation, in this hotel, by a normal person. If I try to flee from this trap, they’ll just spring it that much faster.”

  “How many do you think you can take?”

  “Based on the last guy, maybe two. If I’m lucky.”

  Seymour suddenly holds up a hand. “Wait a second.”

  “I hope what you have is extremely good.”

  “It’s perfect. We’re not vulnerable at all. In fact, we’ve never been so invincible.”

  “I’m dying to hear what you have to say.”

  “The president’s hotel. It’s down the block from here. Teri and Matt just left to go there, but you know how long she takes to get ready. They won’t get there for half an hour. You won’t have to worry about exposing her to harm.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “I’m talking about the secret service. The president will have at least a hundred agents with him. More like two hundred. This is the Olympics, a prime terrorist target. If you can get inside his hotel, you’ll be surrounded by a wall of the best-trained guards on earth. If these monsters try to attack you, they’ll be cut to pieces. If they just try to sneak weapons into the president’s hotel, they’ll be arrested.”

  “You can’t arrest creatures like these.”

  “Then they’ll be killed. But you’ll be safe.”

  I consider, then nod. “Clever. I like it. But what if the four surround the hotel and try to take me hostage? In that case Teri and Matt would be in danger.”

  “I doubt it will come to that. Whoever this group is, they’ve sent four superhumans to get you this time. They want you. They’re not going to leave without you. Trust me, they’ll do whatever it takes to get inside that hotel.”

  I stand and kiss him on the lips. “I owe you.”

  “Make me a vampire. That will make us even.”

  “You’re perfect the way you are. I hate to ruin a good thing.”

  He kisses me. “We’ll talk about it later. Run, Sita, and kill them. Kill them all. It’s what you do best.”

  I’m outside a moment later. I walk briskly toward the president’s hotel, but I don’t break into a run. My pace appears to determine the speed of my assailants. Since I know they cannot hear as well as I can, I must assume their human spies still have me in their sights. If I increase my pace even slightly, they do likewise.

  The night is warm and humid, London in August. Although it’s late, a party atmosphere fills the city. I hear people drinking and carrying on. The Brits love track and field, and many are still celebrating Teri’s race, among others.

  The president’s hotel is a five-star Hilton. Even before I catch sight of my first secret service agent, I dispose of my gun in a tree. I’m sure I’ll have to go through a metal detector. I can get the weapon later, if need be.

  Two hundred yards from the Hilton, I see my first wave of agents—the outer perimeter. A few are dressed as athletes, others as tourists. It’s their job to stop anyone who looks remotely suspicious. I guess I pass the first test.

  At the door to the hotel, I successfully go through a metal detector, but then I’m stopped cold. I don’t have an athlete’s badge, and I’m not on their list. I don’t have time for subtlety. From each direction, I hear my assailants accelerate. They now know what I’m up to, and they don’t like it. I hear them break into a run. They must be a blur to people out f
or a late-night stroll.

  “My name’s Linda,” I say to the secret service agent who stands before me. He’s of Asian descent, and I can tell by the way he holds himself he’s an expert in martial arts. His neck is thick and his fingers are blunt. Ordinarily I would say he has intense eyes, but they melt as I focus on them. I continue, “Let me inside. It’s important I see the president.”

  He begins to perspire. He checks his list again, hoping it will bring relief. “What did you say your name is?” he asks.

  I move beside him so I can read the list. There’s a Lindy Addage near the top, who works for the LA Times, and I point to her. “That’s me. Now please let me inside.”

  He shudders under the assault of my burning blue eyes and powerful suggestions. He must have remarkable self-control. He should have caved in the instant our eyes met. Finally he nods and steps aside.

  “You must see the president,” he mumbles.

  “Thank you. You have been most kind.”

  I pass inside and find the president’s party on the second floor in a ballroom twenty times larger than the one I rented for Teri. A few people have on tuxes, but overall the dress is casual. Many athletes wear the national suits they were issued when they made the team. Since the purpose of the affair is to celebrate American victories, there’s plenty of red, white, and blue. I have on black pants, a white silk blouse, and a gray jacket.

  The president has yet to arrive.

  There is no sign of Teri and Matt, either. Good.

  I focus in on the secret service and the four who are converging on the hotel. Seymour was confident the latter would try to break in, but I have my doubts. Like I told my friend, they can bide their time, lay siege to the hotel, and wait for the agents to leave. If I was them, that’s what I would do.

  I don’t know the extent of their mental powers. It’s possible they have none, and the only way they will be able to get by the guards will be to use force. Yet with two hundred agents focused on protecting this room and its occupants, it would be a desperate strategy. All agents are equipped with handguns, but a small number will have Uzis—handheld machine guns.

  Two of the four reach the door. To my surprise, I discover they’re women. I listen as they try to bluff their way inside. Their technique is a virtual replay of my own. It’s a fact then—whoever they are, they possess at least basic telepathic abilities. I watch as the women slip past the guards, and I feel depressed. I had hoped to have shelter for a while, time to plan my next move.

  The women are tall, sleek, with copper skin and dark brown hair so thick it would intimidate any modern stylist. They look like figures lifted from an ancient Egyptian pyramid wall. Their dress, however, is plain, and I understand why. They wear coats like mine, but they’ve made a mistake by bringing guns into the president’s ballroom. In the bulges of their pockets, I see signs of their arrogance. However, I’m surprised they were able to get the weapons past the metal detectors.

  I hear two men at the door persuading the agents that they, too, are invited guests. It won’t be long before all four are inside. I have to move fast. Acting scared, I approach three female agents.

  “Excuse me, but I think you have a problem,” I say.

  The shortest of the agents studies me. “What’s wrong, ma’am?”

  I nod to the two females, who stare at me from the other side of the room. If looks could kill . . . Their eyes are so cold I think of them as witches. Between them, they make rapid hand gestures, employing a subtle form of sign language no one else would notice. They’re smart—they know if they speak, I’ll hear them. Of course, they can hear what I’m saying, there’s no point in being too coy.

  “You have a security breach. Those two women standing over there got in here without presenting any form of ID. They’re armed.”

  The short agent is amused. “I hardly think that’s likely, ma’am.”

  “You have no reason to believe me, but please, check them out and you’ll see what I mean.” I catch the woman’s eye and light a fuse between her synapses. I raise my voice. “For God’s sake, look at them. Their coat pockets are bulging. They look like goddamn terrorists. Do you want to be the first secret service agents to be directly responsible for the death of a president?”

  Shorty turns to her partners. “Janice, Debbie—approach the women from the front. Ask for ID and try to establish what door they came through. Be polite. I’ll be behind them, ready to take action if necessary.” Shorty glances at me. “Satisfied?”

  “Thank you. Be careful, those witches are the real thing. They’ll start shooting the instant they feel cornered. I’d bring more backup.”

  “We know what we’re doing,” Shorty says.

  The agents move off, and I silently wish them good luck. It’s against my nature to send humans after monsters. But I don’t know what else to do. I can’t die, I can’t surrender, not when I don’t know what these strangers are capable of.

  The male half of the foursome makes it past the agents at the door and heads directly for me. They’ve seen me point out their partners. Before they reach my part of the room, I cower behind two agents, one tall and well built, a guy in his thirties, the other thin and close to retirement. I gesture to the men who are after me.

  “Those guys have guns,” I say quickly, in a panicked voice.

  The older of the two agents frowns. “How do you know that?”

  “I was behind them when I arrived here. They weren’t frisked. They weren’t required to go through a metal detector. The guard at the gate did whatever they told him. Are they part of the secret service?”

  The old guy glances at his partner, then at me. “No, they’re not. May I ask what your name is and why you’re here?”

  “Lindy Addage. You’ll find my name on the guest list. I’m here with the Los Angeles Times. I was hoping to get a quote from the president about his feeling about the games. But I got here early and got stuck in the line with those two goons. I’m telling you, there’s something creepy about them.”

  I notice the two males have stopped and are watching me.

  The old guy is undecided. “Did you actually see their guns?”

  “Definitely. They’re carrying them inside their coats.” I can see the weapons bulging through their jackets from where I stand. “Please, talk to them at least, check their IDs. What harm can it do?”

  The old guy nods. “What do you think, Ted?”

  “Like the lady says, Mike, it can’t hurt.”

  “Let me go with you,” I add.

  “What?” Mike exclaims.

  “I’m the one accusing them. Let me do it to their faces.”

  “She has a point,” Ted says. “It’s not like we can’t protect her.”

  Ted is making a joke, but the irony of his remark weighs on me as we head toward the assassins. I fear to leave the agents alone, afraid they’ll be killed. I wish I could have accompanied the women agents, but I had to alert the secret service to both groups of killers.

  I have no idea how the assassins are going to react.

  “Prepare for a fight,” I say to Mike and Ted as we near the males, adding power to my voice. “They’ve come to kill, and they’re not afraid to die. Put a hand on your guns now.”

  Mike and Ted jump at my command. They obey.

  I note they’re wearing bulletproof vests. Good.

  I glance in the direction of the female agents and the witches. The group is having a casual conversation, and I worry the latter have already used their mental powers on the women. There’s nothing I can do about it at the moment.

  “Gentlemen. How are you doing this evening?” Mike says as we stop before the assassins. They bear no resemblance to their female counterparts. Both are tall, blond, and blue-eyed, with clearly marked Nordic bloodlines. They wear the same type of watch that Claudious Ember did, the one that worked as a communication device. I notice they both angle the watches so they’re pointed at me. More people are watching this party than meets the
eye.

  The male on the right frowns. His partner forces a smile. It’s curious how clumsy both expressions are. These two don’t get out much; they have no social graces. Smiley speaks first.

  “We are having very good time, thank you,” he says.

  “May I ask your names, please?” Mike asks.

  “Why?” the sullen male responds.

  His happy buddy smiles some more. “My name is Edward Simmons. This is my partner, Thomas Freeman. We are with the press, the Times. We have identification. Would you like to see it?”

  “Love to,” Mike replies, concerned. “You say you work for the Times, but you’re obviously not Brits. What’s that accent I hear?”

  “I’m from Norway. Thomas is from Holland. Perhaps I confuse issue. My English not so good. We both employed by Amsterdam Times.” Mike hands over two ID badges, adding, “We here to cover Olympics.”

  Mike studies their identification, still keeping a grip on the gun on his hip. “This looks legit,” he says, handing back the badges.

  “Thank you, sir,” Edward says.

  “Now may I see your invitation for tonight’s event?” Mike says.

  “Pardon?” Edward mutters.

  “As I’m sure you know, this is a presidential event. Only those who have been personally invited by the White House are allowed here tonight. You must have shown your invitation at the door. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have let you inside.”

  Edward glances at his partner, loses most of his smile. He gestures in my direction. “Excuse please, does this woman have an invitation?”

  “He’s trying to distract you,” I say. “Don’t let him. They’re pros. Look at the bulges in their coats.”

  “Are you carrying weapons?” Mike demands.

  Edward tries to catch his eye. “No, sir. We are unarmed.”

  I wave my hand in front of Mike’s face. “He’s using hypnosis on you. Don’t look into his eyes. Frisk them, force them to surrender their guns.”