I'd never traveled in Dan's car as a wolf before. The Jeep was roomy, but it was still kind of awkward. Though better than trying to change forms in the back seat and dress in one of the spare outfits Dan carried in the back for both of us.
I lay on the back seat—the Jeep wasn't tall enough for me to sit—and enjoyed the stream of smells flowing through the window, like a smorgasbord of information for my nose. Of course, in the city, a lot of that information was gasoline and garbage and the smells of too many people together, but there were intriguing hints of so many other things, passing almost too fast for my brain to process. I understood why dogs liked car rides so much.
It was simpler as the wolf. That part of me knew I was worried and upset, but as far as it could tell, I was safe, and our mate was here, and the car was familiar, so it stayed calm. By the time we got back to the Taskforce, my adrenaline spike and crash had leveled out a little. I changed in one of the first-floor locker rooms—designed with shifters in mind—and then headed upstairs. Jase had told me the latest on the office schedule and my appointments while we waited with him for the paramedics. He'd said it took his mind off his arm to think about other things, and while I'd watched the color return to his face as his vamp healing started to kick in, I'd known he was going to be okay. Otherwise, I would have gone with him to the hospital rather than with Dan back to the office, case or no damned case.
I grabbed my phone as I walked. There was already a text from Jase telling me he was fine and to stop worrying. I texted him back a hug and told him I'd worry if I wanted to.
As I headed to Dan's office, I glanced at one of the monitors that were always playing various news channels, wondering if the attack was being covered. Then I froze as I saw Marco's face. He was standing outside his house, surrounded by media.
What was he doing? I hit the volume button.
"—no cause for alarm," Marco said in his cool but calm tone. "The people responsible for the attack are already taken care of." I noticed he said “people,” not “vampires.” Trying to emphasize that we were all the same.
"Lord Marco, what does such a bold attack in the middle of the city mean? Have you lost control of the vampire population?"
It was either a very brave or very dumb reporter who asked that question, and I was surprised he didn't shrivel into dust from the icy stare Marco turned his way. Not full vamp mind whammy—Marco was too aware of his position and responsibilities to try to intimidate a reporter that way—but it was definitely scathing.
"No," he said shortly. "No more than the government has lost control of the situation when anyone commits a crime. There will always be people who do not wish to be good citizens. And those of us responsible for the safety of the city will always act to curtail their ambitions in that direction. You may rest assured that the vampires of Seattle want nothing more than to live peaceably as we have done alongside the shifters and the humans for many years now. Do not try to fan the flames of fear. You do no one any service if you try that."
I couldn't see the reporter's face, but he didn't ask a follow-up question. There were several more who asked slightly less direct versions of the same question before Marco called the conference to a close and went back inside.
I turned the volume down, my sense of calm fading. This wasn't good. The press was going to turn this into the kind of disaster we were trying to avoid if they continued on this path.
Damn Smith. He was putting us all in danger. And I'd been attacked again. Anger curled through me.
I went to look for Dan. I found him in his office, talking to Esme and Andy.
"Marco was just on TV," I said to the three of them.
Dan lifted a brow, not looking too concerned. As the head vampire in Seattle, Marco did, of course, make public statements from time to time. I imagined Ani or Sam would, too, if there'd been an incident with a rogue werewolf.
"What did he say?" he asked.
"That the perpetrators had found justice, essentially. The reporters were hitting him pretty hard on whether this is a sign of vampire troubles. One asked him if he'd lost control."
"Ouch." Andy winced. "That's not good."
"No," I agreed. "If the press decides to stir this up into ‘vampires gone wild,’ we're in trouble. We don't need reporters sniffing around looking for links to other recent incidents."
Dan shook his head. "We've got the reports of those attacks locked down."
"Someone will start digging," I said. "Some dumb reporter is going to decide this is good clickbait and get into it. And they might find someone willing to talk. A lot of people work for Esteban. And I'd imagine the security guard at the warehouse has friends. One of them might decide cash for a story is a good deal."
"I know," Dan said. "We're already on it. Talking to the media outlets to keep the hype to a minimum. But we can't put the genie back in the bottle. Besides, people need to know to be careful."
"Once this blows up on social media, there's not going to be any stopping the hysteria," I said. "All those idiots out there talking up nonsense on those sites aren't going to be listening to the FBI or anyone else calling for calm. Even if they don't know about victims this week, this is another seemingly out-of-the-blue attack like the one at the memorial service. That's two attacks, not that far apart. That hasn't happened for years. People will get angry."
"I know," Dan repeated. "But we'll deal with it, Ash."
He didn't say to calm down, but he was skating close to it. Somehow that only put me more on edge. I could smell that he wasn't as calm as he was pretending to be either.
"Do you think Smith did this?" I asked. "It's a pretty big coincidence that someone tried to attack me just as I was closing in on Traxbet."
"I agree. But it's too early to make that call. And it depends on what's moved him back into action."
I thought about Smith on the call. He'd definitely been worried. Scared even, perhaps. About something like this happening?
"If it's not Smith, if it's these hypothetical other vampires he's lost control of, I don't get why they'd still come after me. What can I do for them?"
"Maybe they want the same thing Smith wants," Andy said.
"Then why break away from him? That makes no sense." My voice was a little too loud, and I bit back a breath. Perhaps my adrenaline rush hadn't settled as well as I thought.
Dan held up a hand. "Ash, we don't know the answers. We’re working on ID’ing the vampires, and maybe that will help. We'll put things together and go from there."
I knew he was doing things the right way, the only way he could, but I wanted more answers. And I had an idea about how I might get them. An idea I wasn't sure Dan would like.
"We could try talking to Smith again," I said. "We have his number from earlier."
"It's a burner phone," Dan said. "It pinged as being in Georgetown. But then it went dead. He’ll have ditched it."
"Maybe. Or maybe he's been too distracted. Before he hung up, there were car sounds. If those other vampires are trying to get to him, then maybe he's on the move. And maybe he wants to talk to me. He's human. If his vamps—or some of them—have mutinied, then maybe he's starting to realize we're his best chance at coming out of this whole mess alive."
"He's been very careful up until now."
"And now things are unraveling. Or escalating or whatever the hell is happening. It's worth a try, isn't it? If there's no answer, then we've only wasted a minute." I stared at Dan. "He can't hurt me just talking on the phone, Dan. It's safe."
He grimaced but nodded. "Fine. If you want to try, then call him."
I blinked. I'd expected more of an argument.
I looked at my phone. Smith's number was still in the list of recent calls. All I had to do was hit Call and I'd be speaking to him again.
I hit the button on-screen before I could stop and think myself out of doing it. To my surprise, there was a ring tone.
And then "Ashley?"
"Hello, Baxter," I said. I wasn't going to mess around anymore. He needed to know we were on his case. Maybe he did already if he was behind today's attack.
"I take it you did find something from your father, then?" he said. I had to hand it to him. He was cool in a crisis. If my knowing his real name was a shock, his voice gave no sign of it.
"I don't need that to find out who you are," I said.
"It's taken a long time."
"Yeah, whoever you got to wipe your identity was good. But not quite good enough."
He didn't rise to the bait. "Is there a reason for the call?"
"Maybe I just wanted to chat." Across the table from me, Dan shook his head. Meaning “Don't be snarky and make Smith hang up.”
I took a breath. He was right. If Smith hung up and ditched this phone, then we were back to square one. "I'm calling about what happened downtown."
"Downtown?" He sounded surprised.
I frowned. Was he acting, or did he genuinely not know what had happened?
"There was a vampire attack. People were hurt. Just like they were in Caldwell at the memorial service."
"Caldwell was different," he said. "They were only supposed to take you."
"They came after me. People are hurt. Vampires are dead," I said. "So not that much different."
"Dead?" he said sharply. "Who is dead?"
"Three vampires," I said. "They underestimated me."
He sucked in a breath. "Three?"
"One of them pulled a gun, Baxter. He was going to shoot me. He did shoot one of my friends."
"May I trouble you for a description?"
"Are you going to tell me who they are?" I countered.
"Just tell me what they looked like, Ashley."
I offered the description of the three vampires. There was a small chance he’d tell me their names.
"All dark-haired?"
"Yes," I said, and I heard him blow out a breath. Was he happy or sad about that fact? "Is there someone else you thought might be involved? Someone behind these attacks? If you tell me, then we can help you. Unless you were behind the attack and you're just a very good actor."
"I don't want you dead, Ms. Keenan. I want the information you have."
Right. He wasn't going to answer my question. "Which you will never get if I do die, just to be clear."
"I understand that," he said. "But if things are escalating, it would be better for both of us if there's a deal to be made."
Better for him. I'd be happy with just bringing him in. But trying to take him by force carried a degree of risk. What if something went wrong and Smith died? If Felipe was right, we needed Smith to figure out what he'd done to the virus. We had to bring him in and keep him alive.
So maybe he needed to think we were willing to trade. Get him to meet with me. How did I get him to agree to that? And how far would Dan let me push the boundaries to lure him in? He hadn't wanted me to be bait, but maybe we were now at the point where we were out of options. If there was truly a group of rogue plague vamps out there and they were willing to escalate the situation to get whatever they wanted, we'd run out of time to catch Smith the old-fashioned way.
"All right. But if it wasn't you behind the attacks, then obviously you’re no longer in charge of all the vampires you used to control. Or all your plague vamps, at least."
"Was someone bitten?" He sounded worried.
"No. Not tonight. But it won’t be long until it happens. Not if the same person was behind today's attack who was involved in other recent attacks. So, Baxter, who is it? Who's doing this? Tell me and we can maybe help you. Because I'm thinking if they're after me, they might just be after you as well."
"I…." He hesitated.
"If you want to make a deal, then you have to start with some honesty," I said sharply. "So, I'll ask you again. Who is the vampire behind these attacks? And don't pretend you don't know. If there's someone else out there making plague vamps, then we have a bigger problem, and I have no incentive to help you. So, your choice, Baxter. You can help us, or you can stay quiet. And, well, that's the end of any chance of a deal."
For a moment I thought the phone had gone dead. That he was choosing whatever insane version of loyalty he was practicing rather than getting what he wanted. I gripped the phone tighter. He had to make the choice. If he wanted help, he had to offer something in return. Hopefully stubborn wouldn't outweigh self-preservation if I was right about his vamps being out of control. I held my breath, waiting for the answer.
"His name is Lancaster. Mitchell Lancaster."
I resisted the urge to do a fist-pump. "And that's a real name?"
"Yes." There was a weight of something I thought might be sadness behind the words.
"All right. Mitchell Lancaster. That's helpful. I take it he worked with you?"
"No. He worked at Synotech. But he was one of Cilla's friends."
That made sense. All of this seemed to circle back to Cilla and Smith—no, Baxter—in the end. Love—or love combined with guilt—sometimes was a force for destruction.
Across the table from me, Dan was listening, but his fingers were already typing. Sending Lancaster's name out to be searched for.
"Thank you," I said. "That will be helpful. Now, you said you wanted to make a deal. So let's work out if that can happen."
"I gave you what you wanted," he said, the words half a snarl.
"You did. But you might want something I can't give you," I said. "I'm not a miracle worker. But we could meet. Discuss it. See if we can come to terms."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"Because of Lancaster?"
"Yes."
"We can meet in daylight. He hasn't made a move in daylight yet." At least not that we knew of. Not one that had left any evidence—or bodies behind.
"I suppose you think we should meet at your FBI headquarters? Where it's safe."
The sarcasm was so heavy in his tone I could almost see the air quotes around safe. "No," I said, and Dan glanced up at me, eyes narrowing. "I don't expect you to do that. I still think that might be the best approach, but we can find a neutral meeting place if you prefer."
"No FBI."
"No." That was a lie. There would be a team watching me. There was no way Dan would let me do this alone. But I was hoping I could convince him to let me talk to Smith for a while before they moved in. "But you have to understand that the goodwill only goes so far. If you try to screw us over, then the deal will be off." And he would be carted off to prison faster than he could say “vampire.” Where, if he chose not to cooperate, I wouldn't shed a tear if Dan sicced a whole team of vampires on him to thrall him and get the information we needed.
"How about the Geiger Hotel?" It was one of the boutique hotels where Bug often stayed. It was smaller than the big chain hotels, and I knew the layout. It had a downstairs lounge bar that was busy enough that Smith would feel safe, but not big enough that the Taskforce wouldn't be able to keep an eye on me. "Do you know it?"
"Yes," he said.
"Good," I replied. "Then tomorrow, 2:00 p.m. I'll see you there."
I hung up. Then looked across to Dan, whose jaw was clenched. "Okay, yell at me now."
He threw up his hands. "I can't yell at you. It's a crappy plan, but right now, I can't think of a better one.
That wasn't the reaction I'd been expecting. "That's it?"
"Unless you think you can call Smith back and convince him to turn himself in after all, yes. We don't have much time, and we have an operation to organize. We need to get agents into the hotel and set up an observation room before Smith or anyone else who's on his side can get anywhere near the place."
Esme and Andy were already typing things into their laptops.
"Okay. What can I do?"
He shook his head. "For now, nothing. No, wait. You can run the searches on this Lancaster guy. Find out some background. We need to know who we're looking for."
With a name and a former employer, it didn't take long to find photos of Lancaster. He was younger than Smith and Cilla. Only a few years older than me. He looked like your typical slightly geeky guy. Sandy blond hair, blue eyes. In the employee photo we got from Synotech, he looked awkward, as though he wasn't quite at ease in his own body. He was wiry, I thought, though the photo showed him in a lab coat and only from the chest up, so I didn't get a good sense of his height. He didn't look like an evil genius who would team up with the likes of Tate, Smith, and Cilla, that was for sure.
But then again, Smith didn't look evil either. He was cold and detached, and that had been my main clue when I'd first met him that maybe he wasn't entirely normal, but he didn't look like a mad professor. That was the problem with human monsters; sometimes they hid themselves quite well. Tate had been a different story. He looked wrong somehow, even in photos. Nothing behind his eyes but the soul of a predator.
But Mitchell Lancaster looked normal. He could have been a neighbor or the Little League coach or the nerdy guy talking about the latest in cold brew in a coffee shop.
The only thing he really had in common with Smith was that his identity also seemed to vanish from the records not too long after Smith had. He'd worked at Synotech for about eighteen months after Smith resigned from WishLife, but then he'd quit and his apartment had gone up for sale. After that, he was smoke.
"Great, another phantom," I muttered. I looked across at Dan, who was staring at something on his screen. "I'm sending you the info now. Picture. His bio before he vanished."
Dan nodded, not looking up. "A picture is worth a thousand words these days."
"Send it to Marco and Esteban. If he's been around the city, especially if he has a group of vampires with him, then they may have been careless. Someone might have seen them."
"I'll get this out. And then you and I are going to talk about what you just agreed to do with Smith some more."