CHAPTER 11
Reginald felt deja vu.
Once again, he suited up. Claude, who was the only other person going on the mission, prepared beside him. This time, they were suiting up just enough to protect themselves but not enough to fight… which, in the end, made the deja vu that much more intense because Reginald hadn’t known his companions had planned to fight the first time. So as he prepared, he wondered at the intentions of those around him. Would Claude and Ophelia try to mass troops in secret to assault the humans as they’d done last time? Or had they actually heard Lafontaine’s message and accepted that whatever extra troops they tried to send, the humans would be more than prepared to meet them?
Suspicious, Reginald asked Claire to sift through the building’s computer network to see if she could find any secret plans pertaining to the mission. Were there charts and troop assignments on any of the hard drives? Had there been unexpected gun or armor deployments? Were Claude and Ophelia sending communications back and forth that looked like plotting for anything beyond what Lafontaine had allowed?
But there was nothing. Claude seemed to accept that he’d been outmatched, and that the Vampire Nation’s best (and possibly only) chance would be to take what they could get, fall back, and then reassess. Claude had heard what Walker said about the farms the same as Reginald had: they were already lost. Fighting for them now would be an act of ego instead of logic, and would do more harm than good.
So he suited up, donning a set of body armor as Lafontaine’s directives seemed to allow, watching as Claude did the same. With only two of them going, there was no room for funny business. But he still made sure to pocket his phone, then asked Claire to watch whatever satellites were in the area and call him if she saw anything funny. He wanted to be the first to know if more vampire troops arrived, if there was any sign that Claude wasn’t playing fair. And if that happened, Reginald would blow the whistle himself. Then he’d change sides if the humans would let him — or die if they wouldn’t.
Nikki asked Claire what would happen on the upcoming mission, seeing as she’d intuited danger before and during the earlier mission. Claire told Nikki that she could see nothing. Reginald said that Claire’s blankness proved there would be no foul play, but Nikki pointed out that Claire’s predictions were far from predictable, and that hearing her prophecies was a bit like trying to tune into a distant TV station whose reception popped in and out of clarity depending on the weather.
Nikki hated that Reginald was going and that she wasn’t, but Reginald told her that there was a hierarchy of importance at work here, and that as much as he loathed Claude, keeping the vampire population alive was now at the top of that hierarchy. Other than Claire (who was barely human, if at all), there were no humans left that he felt any real attachment to; everyone else he cared about had fangs and drank blood. So he had to do what he could, and right now, that meant making the exchange work. It meant walking in beside Claude, and it meant walking out with the mastermind of the global holocaust on his other side. The entire endeavor was beyond repugnant, but it was, at the moment, what needed to be done.
So Reginald would go. Claude would go. Everyone else would stay behind. Lafontaine had allowed for a party of two only, and had added that spotters would be looking out for vampire backup for miles around. If they saw any, the deal was off. He’d kill Timken; he’d kill Claude and Reginald; he’d burn the blood farms and the other points of siege.
As Reginald double-checked the straps on his vest, he looked over at Claude’s large form. He met his eyes, trying to prod without prodding. Since their first encounter on the TGV, Claude had always kept a firm mental wall up around Reginald, but feeling the edges of Claude’s emotions now, Reginald found nothing alarming. He looked at him evenly, his gaze trying to remind the big man what was at stake.
And then they were off.
They drove to the site in a Lincoln Town Car exactly like the one they’d used the last time, parking at a much smaller building in the middle of a large, unobstructed field. As they approached, they’d seen movement all around the horizon — small flickers in every direction. Somehow, they’d been surrounded. But that made sense and was even okay with Reginald, seeing as the humans were already holding all of the cards.
Lafontaine and a human guard were already there, already out of their car and waiting, their headlights on and pointing toward the vampires. Reginald could see a shape in the back of the car that had to be Timken. There was also a fourth man in the group, unarmed and unarmored, wearing a tattered suit. He approached Reginald, who’d been driving, and held out his hand. Reginald, guessing, gave him the keys. The man climbed into the Town Car behind them, started it, and drove away. The move struck Reginald as funny, but he decided not to comment. Instead, he looked at Lafontaine and his armed escort across the parking lot, then at Claude.
“I’m glad you understand the need to help the Vampire Nation resolve this,” said Claude. “Despite… you know.”
“If you talk to me again,” said Reginald, “I will try to kill you. I’m sure I’ll fail and you’ll kill me instead, but then you’ll be short one fat genius brain.”
Reginald was sure that Claude would retort — was almost hoping he would — but the big man only looked at Reginald and then closed his mouth with a sense of “fair enough.”
Lafontaine, who hadn’t bothered with his sunglasses this time, dragged the shape from the back seat and began walking with it toward the center of the parking lot, back-lit by the other car’s headlights. The guard followed on Lafontaine’s other side. As they came nearer, Reginald could see Timken’s face. His hair was disheveled but he looked otherwise pristine, almost ready for a photo shoot.
Then they stopped, and Reginald suddenly realized that nobody would be entering the building. The exchange would be conducted in the open. That, too, made sense, but Reginald couldn’t help but look over at the building, wondering if it was filled with human snipers.
Lafontaine beckoned. Reginald and Claude walked forward to join them.
Right now, all of the humans at the besieged blood farms would be lining up at the gates. The vampire troops guarding the gates would be allowing them to do so, lowering their weapons. It was all being televised by news crews, and the whole nation was watching. That, Reginald thought, was the hidden reason behind this exchange — the reason Lafontaine had insisted on it. It wasn’t just about freeing the captive humans; it was about changing hearts and minds. The public would see the Vampire Nation regain its leader, but it would also see the Nation allow 75 percent of its blood supply walk away unmolested. The surrender of sustenance would demoralize the vampire world to the point of breaking while simultaneously giving the humans unbridled new levels of hope. In the minds of the watching humans, the righteous would have won. Their cause would have become not just possible… but really just a matter of time.
On his belt, Claude wore a cell phone. This was intended to be straightforward; Claude would use the phone to tell the vampire troops to allow the humans to pass the gates, then Lafontaine would hand Timken over, and then when the blood stock was safely away, Lafontaine would order his troops to retreat. But until those events actually took place, anything could happen. There were guns aimed in every direction, creating a giant Mexican standoff.
Reginald had stopped caring. All that mattered were Claire and Nikki, ideally Brian, and, if possible, himself. That was it. As he stood in the dark, headlight-lit parking lot, he realized that he didn’t care about the humans of the world; he didn’t care about the vampires of the world; he didn’t even care about the human community where his mother and Nikki’s sister had lived and died, or the cluster of vampires he knew back at home. In an ideal world, everyone would live. Maybe they’d join hands and sing and braid flowers through each other’s hair. But that wasn’t going to happen, and he just didn’t care. Nikki. Claire. Maybe Brian. Maybe himself. And the rest could go to Hell.
They stopped ten feet from Lafontaine, Timken, and the guard. Timken was at the end of what appeared to be a silver-chain leash. Claude picked up the phone, dialed a number, and put the phone on speaker. They heard Ophelia’s voice.
“The gates are open,” she said, her voice distorted by the phone’s speaker. “The humans are lined up, the guards awaiting your command.”
“How do the humans look?” said Claude. “For the cameras, I mean?”
“Clean and unabused enough. But a lot of them still look sick.”
“Good,” said Claude. “Stand by.”
“Standing by, sir.”
Claude looked up from the phone and met Timken’s eyes.
“How are you, Mr. President?” he said. Reginald couldn’t help looking over. Hearing concern come out of Claude’s mouth was surreal. He tried again to pry into Claude’s thoughts, but Claude still had his impervious wall up.
“Oh, peachy,” said Timken.
Reginald looked at Lafontaine. He was dressed in dirty blue jeans and an old button-up shirt that was whole but well-worn. As before, his empty eyes were looking directly at Reginald and Claude as if he could see them, and Reginald again wondered how. The guard, beside him, was carrying a weapon with a tank under the barrel like a giant squirt gun, but Lafontaine himself was unarmed. Still, Reginald remembered what had happened last time. He thought of the glints they’d seen on the horizon. The unknown element of the building beside them. And Lafontaine’s dark skin, which might again have been covered in the vampire disease agent. They were ready for anything, appearances to the contrary.
“I’ve been watching the news while we’ve been waiting,” said Lafontaine. Then he nodded with satisfaction. “It looks like you’re keeping up your end of the bargain on the blood farms.”
“We don’t really have a choice,” said Claude, a scowl forming on his face.
“Sure you do. You could let him die.”
Claude shook his head, exasperated.
Lafontaine turned to assess the president as if he’d never seen him with his sightless eyes before, starting at his feet and scanning him upward. Then he turned back to Claude and Reginald.
“I shouldn’t let him go,” he said. “I’ve heard the stories about vampires from my grandmother’s day. You used to stay in the shadows. You hid, before anyone knew you even existed. But this one right here —” He shook Timken’s chain. “— was the one who made you come out. He’s the one who planned the slaughter of humanity.”
“Well,” said Claude, “him and me.”
Lafontaine was looking at Timken again. He sighed. “Well,” he said, “a deal is a deal.” He locked eyes with Claude, then with the others. He paused. Then he said, “Do I need to remind you that if you try anything, we’ll kill you all?”
Claude laughed.
Lafontaine ignored the insult. “And do I need to remind you that if you think you can kill us, you’re sorely mistaken?”
This time, Claude didn’t break a smile.
“And while we’re at it, I’ll just go ahead and remind you that we’ve watched you since you rolled out of New York, since you took that wrong turn seventeen miles back and had to turn around. We’ve got eyes in the sky, and eyes all around. Enough to be sure that you don’t have anyone waiting to jump on us this time.”
“Fine,” said Claude.
Lafontaine nodded. “Then go ahead and do your part.”
Claude looked down at the phone in his hand. “General Thax?” he said.
“Yes, sir?”
“Release the humans.”
“Yes, sir.”
They stood for a moment, everyone staring at each other. Claude started to talk, but Lafontaine held up a finger. He looked over at the guard beside him. The guard touched an earpiece, listened, and then nodded. Then Lafontaine carefully, using only his fingertips, lifted the silver chain from around Timken’s neck.
“Wouldn’t want to touch his skin with mine and kill him by accident,” he said, noticing Reginald’s gaze. Then he laughed. “Well… at least not yet.”
The chain came off. Lafontaine nodded at Timken. The guard raised his weapon and trained it on the president’s back, casually, just in case. Claude watched the display, seething. But something was wrong; Claude was too tense. Something had gone sour. They needed to finish this and get out.
Timken walked the short distance and came to stand beside Claude. He straightened his suit coat.
“You okay, sir?” said Claude.
Timken nodded. “I’m fine.”
Then Claude looked directly at Lafontaine, grasped Timken’s head between his hands, and twisted it off his neck.
“Now,” he growled, “you have nothing to hold against us.”
Timken’s body had begun to spark. Claude shoved it hard at the guard. Timken’s corpse, now flaming, struck the guard like a two-hundred-pound sack of flour, driving him to the ground. The guard’s head racked hard on the concrete of the parking lot, and then he began to burn.
Claude had dropped the phone when he’d decapitated Timken. He stooped to pick it up.
“General Thax,” he said, “tell the farm guards to kill the humans.”
“Sir?”
He raised his eyes to stare at Lafontaine. “Do it.”
Claude pocketed the phone, then marched slowly toward the human.
“Stay back!” he said, raising his hands. “I’m contaminated!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” said Claude, a smile surfacing beneath his black goatee. “I won’t kill you. I want to be sure you’re able to see them die.”