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Dusk had settled over Atlanta like a swarm of locusts, encouraged by a cloudy Georgia sky. The sunset had been magnificent, Charles observed, a good omen. Brilliant gold, orange, fuchsia, and purple extended to indigo, where the sun’s descent met the city's night sky.
Inside, over thirty members of the Shévet ha Dam congregated in the Table’s former meeting place, the vast basement of a Gothic-style home in Atlanta. Renfields had removed the books, which were now housed in Charles’ library. The polished mahogany table itself was conspicuously absent. Only the crystal chandelier above and the parquet floor beneath them remained.
The younger vampires, Charles noted, harbored a few new battle scars. Cheng had lost the top of an ear, but it was growing back without a hint of scarring. The elder members, though exhausted, appeared unhurt.
Charles waited as his Renfields scurried about, serving cold cocktails or warmed blood. He paced at the fringe of the circle with his tumbler of Dalmore until the beverage service was complete, then stepped soundlessly to the center of the group. He took each step in a calculated fashion before turning to note faces, postures, thoughts. What he gathered was a room full of legions who’d grown exhausted from fulfilling his directive and a few who wondered what had happened to the ones who hadn’t made it.
Obedience. Good. Perfect.
Hasheput Keket rested her dusty feet on an ottoman, one of the few remaining pieces of furniture, her long, braided black hair hanging to her triceps. The absence of Domevlo Ghedi by her side was a blatant gap in their usual number. An untouched snifter rested in her palm. “Charles,” she said, her voice scarcely a whisper, “we are here again after so much progress. Why?”
“How much progress, would you say?” Charles asked.
“How much?” Errando asked, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket. “Well, I’d say we’ve eliminated over one hundred groups.”
“Closer to two,” Wynda said with a stubborn tilt of her chin.
“Si, si,” Errando said, his head bobbing, “The reports aren’t fully in, but there have been several hundred killed.”
Charles smiled at the news. “Good.”
“Where’s Doyle?” Cheng asked, more to Errando than Charles, avoiding his superior’s gaze. His brazen posture was gone as he sat near the feet of Lan Chiu, but his voice revealed his bitterness at the presence of another young vampire holding a close bond with the vessel of the Maleficence.
“Doyle,” Charles said, lifting his glass of scotch to his mouth, “will not be joining us.” His tone was asperous, and he took a sip and dared Cheng with a fiery glare to ask why. Cheng slouched but didn’t interrupt.
Doyle’s absence was regrettable, but not unforeseen. Charles had hoped to prolong Mr. Christy’s cooperation long enough for him to help with Vivian’s capture. The young one’s anguish had been delectable, but now the perfidious youth was another casualty to the Source. Disloyal Doyle had chosen a side and was now useless.
Charles waited a moment to see if anyone else had more to add. No one did. Good. He needed more time to decide who would take the places at his Table—this was not the time for rash decisions.
“We shall take a more leisurely pace for the next few hours,” he said. “What I need now is information. For you to put your legions to work in search of a woman.”
Wynda’s eyes closed, and her head dropped to her chest, her thoughts broadcast into Charles’ mind almost as if she’d meant them to reach him. Not another search for a woman. Jude had asked the same when Jerusha escaped days before he died.
He held a hand up. “Relax. This isn’t Armageddon waiting to unleash the way it was with Jude when he lost control of Jerusha. This is strictly a favor.” He directed his attention to Cheng. “A big favor. And the woman is not a vampire, although I suspect she is more than human.”
Cheng’s spine found its rigidness, his face some attentiveness. He winced and laid his hand to his ear as if suffering from a sharp pain as it regenerated. Charles waited until he had the group’s full consideration before speaking.
“Allow me to tell you about Amara.”
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MICHAEL REENTERED THE clearing where he’d left Vivian, only to find the circle of trees silent and empty. The moonlight, which had shone so brightly here before, now cast silvery shadows on the leaves and the trees. But there was no Vivian.
“Vivian!” he cried. Then he spotted her lying on the ground in the dark, legs crossed, eyes closed, focused.
“I’m here, Michael,” she said, her voice eerily calm and exhausted.
“What’s wrong? What’s—”
“Shh,” she said. “I need a moment, please.”
Michael froze in a gauzy point of moonlight and shadows. Vivian hovered inches above the leaves, unmoving, her back rigid and straight. Bit by bit, she descended until she’d shaken the trance. She stretched her arms over her head and sat upright.
“The Source?” Michael asked, “Did you contact it? Did it say anything?”
“Yes, and yes,” Vivian replied.
“But the light,” he said, “you didn’t—you usually produce light. Or the Source does.”
“Not this time,” Vivian said. “What it had to convey was brief, not to mention a little vague. The connection was weak.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s not good.”
“What’s not? Tell me what’s going on.”
“Maysun has found Amara, but she’s formed a psychic barrier around them that makes it impossible for Charles to see them.”
“What’s not good about that?” Michael sat on the clump of leaves nearest Vivian.
“It’s made it hard for me to pinpoint her, too. All I can say is that they are south and west of us.”
“It’s a start,” Michael observed.
“Yes, they won’t stay in one place. They’re running, and we’re running after them. Same as Charles. We might benefit from Crystal’s ability to put us on her doorstep, but she has to stop for us to get to her. And it won’t do us a bit of good if the Tribe has made it so that they’re driving straight into Charles’ arms.”
Michael put a hand to his chin and rested his elbow on his knee. He rubbed his brow with his other hand, smoothing out the thoughtful creases that had formed there. Vivian said she suspected Lukas had a connection with the Maleficence, a suspicion he hated to give credence. But if it helped, it was an idea worth exploring.
“What if we didn’t need to find Amara?”
Vivian straightened her legs. “You mean we find Charles, see what he’s planning? You know I can’t do that. With Jude’s blood out of my system, I have no connection to him.”
Michael rose and smoothed his jeans down with his palms. “Wait here,” he said. Vivian agreed, and though her expression begged for more information, she knew the answers were forthcoming.
He crossed the stretch of woods to where his son sat by the fire, his stomach already twisting with the thought of lying to Lukas. He trampled, and Lukas turned to face him as he heard him approach. This time he wasn’t as sullen, but his slouched body and tightly curled hands showed Michael that his son was still far from happy.
“I need your help,” Michael said. “We do. Vivian and I. You too, Blu,” he said almost as an afterthought.
“What about me?” Crystal said.
Michael nodded. “You can touch the Source. It’s worth a try.”
Lukas motioned his father to the seat beside him. “What can I do?”
Michael braced himself. He’d never believed he was a good liar—clever, maybe, but not good. He’d prepared his phrasing during the walk to Lukas’s side and forced himself to use it before his courage wore off and the story sounded too phony.
“We believe we may have a method of locating Charles. If we find him and get to him before he gets to Amara, then this whole debacle is over with—for now, anyway.”
Blu and Crystal were following, but Lukas frowned. “I don’t get it,” he said, crossing his long legs. “Where do I fit in?”
The first part was simple; this was where the Big Story came in. Michael stirred up his courage and spoke. Never had he told his son such a bald-faced lie.
“Vivian thinks that if we all focus on Charles at once that it might concentrate the Source powerfully enough that she can overcome the Maleficence and pinpoint his location. Especially if he’s not actively blocking her.”
Lukas looked skeptical. “Sounds pretty iffy.”
“It’s a theory,” Michael said, “but if it works, then we’re one step ahead of him. We’ve never tried anything like this with Crystal helping us. Blu—you’re pretty old, so you can offer a few centuries of power. And you—” Michael cut off his sentence, not wanting to remind Lukas of the short branch of the vampire family tree that led him straight to Cartephilus.
Lukas hunched over and put his elbows on his knees. “What the hell? I’m game.”
“Good,” Michael said. “Blu?”
Blu looked puzzled, his tight lips and narrowed eyes telling Michael that he knew his friend was hiding his true motivations but agreed to cooperate.
“Crystal?”
She shrugged. “I’m game.”
“Good,” he said. “Vivian’s already doing her part. Are you ready?”
“Go ahead,” Blu said.
“Sure,” Lukas said. “What am I doing?”
Michael, who’d only heard secondhand what it was like to use telepathy, tried to recall what Vivian had told him. “Okay, try to relax. Let your mind go wherever it’s inclined to. Breathe deeply. Concentrate your thoughts on what you remember about Charles. What he looks like, sounds like, every detail. If you need to close your eyes to focus better, then do that. Block as many external stimuli out as you can, but don’t stress if you can’t.”
Lukas closed his eyes. His face grew somber, then angry. His hands clenched. He looked ready to kill.
“Relax as much as you can, Lukas,” Michael encouraged, not liking the expressions he saw crossing his son’s face. Lukas loosened his fists, but his jaw remained tight.
“Can you see him?”
“Mm-hmm,” Lukas said from behind tight lips, his anger so forceful it was palpable.
“Do you know where he is?”
Lukas cracked in eye and regarded his father dubiously. “Aren’t you going to do this, too?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be quiet and focus. Just tell me if you get a hit, okay? Any detail that might help.”
Michael settled in and behaved as though he was participating in the exercise. Crystal and Blu sat, faces impassive, as they cooperated, but it was Lukas that Michael observed. Seconds ticked by. Michael fluctuated between keeping his eyes closed and watching his son and his changing expressions as he attempted to pinpoint Charles.
“He’s in Atlanta,” Lukas said flatly, his eyes fluttering open.
Michael sat up, his esophagus burning as his stomach roiled. He made his voice steady. “You’re sure.”
A single massive shoulder rose and fell. “Yeah. There’s a place inside the city. Used to be used by Jude. The place is filled with Tribe members right now.”
Such detail! Michael almost winced, but fought to maintain his poker face. “You don’t happen to have an address?” he asked, forcing a chuckle.
“No, but I’d bet I can get us almost to his door once we’re nearer.”
Michael stood. “Good, good. Blu, you get anything?”
Blu shook his head. His eyes had grown wide, but he prudently was not voicing his reservations. “Nothing new,” he said.
“Crystal?” She shook her head, her eyes wide and her lips pressed together and biting back questions. Michael knew Crystal understood more than she said, but silently thanked her for not voicing her concerns.
“I’ll go tell Vivian.”
“I think... I think he’s telling them about Amara. The Table. He wants their help in capturing her because he thinks she’s a key to him tilting the Balance.”
Michael’s brows arched, the air in his lungs froze. He gave himself a second to compose before responding. “Well, let’s get ready to go, then. I’ll get Vivian.” He’d walked several steps before adding, “Good job, son.”
“Did you get anything, Dad?”
Michael licked his lips and said, “No, but I’m not as strong as you.” Lukas nodded and started gathering his few possessions.
Michael made the trip to Vivian’s side on shaky legs and joined her in the clearing. Once there, he slumped onto the ground, fighting the urge to put his head in her lap and cry. His hands balled into fists in the leafy ground, crumpling up dried oak and maple leaves and ravaging them in his palms.
“What’s wrong?” Vivian asked, drawing close and placing a wary hand at his temple.
“Lukas. He found Charles in Atlanta.”
Vivian withdrew her hand and put it on her mouth with an arched brow. “You taught him to use telepathy?”
Michael felt his eyes burning, and he brushed at them with the back of his forearm. “I tricked him. Vivian, you should’ve seen the look on his face. He was livid. There was no way he used the Source. And not only did he find Charles, but he also knows what he’s thinking.”
Vivian stood and rubbed the dirt from her palms onto her shirt, then began swatting the leaves from her clothes. “Well, that’s a–”
“Vivian, he used the Maleficence!” The words came from a throat raw and burning with emotion.
Vivian stopped brushing and lifted her head. Empathy radiated from her eyes, and he noticed a glassiness there, too. “Michael, we need to save Amara before Charles gets a hold of her. Maybe he’s wrong, and she’s useless to him. Maybe he’s right, and Eoghan led Charles to her for a reason. But if Amara will give him an undue burden on the Balance, there’s more than your son at stake. After this is over, we’ll ensure that Lukas is all right. For now, his ability to point us to Charles is helpful, and it gives us an advantage. I hate it, too, but Lukas is dealing with a lot.”
Michael clenched his jaw. She was right. But why does all this seem to involve Lukas? First, Cartephilus had Gina turn him into a vampire. Then Jude toyed with him, killed Gina in front of him. Now, Charles has had him kidnapped. He killed Megan while Lukas watched. Why my son? Why is he going through all this hell? What does the Source have in mind for my son?
“So, we go to Atlanta?” Michael asked.
Vivian shook her head. “Charles is in Atlanta. According to Lukas, he’s using the Blood Tribe to track down Amara, right? Which means he has no more clue where she is than we do.”
“But if we stick close to Charles—”
“We risk Charles sensing Lukas.”
Michael found himself without words. He plopped down on the ground as the gravity of Vivian’s words became real. His son had a grain of evil in him, and they didn’t dare bring him near Charles. Vivian said, “If Charles senses us nearby—”
Michael interrupted. “He’ll try to fight us, try to kill you. It’s the same reason he kidnapped Lukas before.” He tongued the points of his eyeteeth. “You don’t think he can use his telepathy to find Lukas now?”
Vivian joined him on the forest floor. “Maybe. Possibly.” He gave her his sternest look. Her hands went up in protest. “Probably. He probably can. How else did Krieg find him before? We suspected the credit cards, but that mall was a big place—he had to have more guidance. If we get within twenty miles of Charles, we might as well hire a brass band and buy huge beacon lights and blinking signs that point right to us.”
Michael understood. “We’re still stuck.”
“Until we find out where Amara is, yeah.”
“My ingenious idea was for nothing.”
“Not nothing,” Vivian said morosely. “Now we know we have to be concerned more about Lukas.”
“Do you think we’ll lose him?”
Her eyes clouded. “I think we already have.”
