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ONERISINGA red mist hung over Los Angeles at midnight, a mist so thick that it blocked the moon’s glow.One so dense it almost hid what would become another shocking Tinseltown legend by the time morning rolled around.The damp air had been tinted with the crimson neon of a dingy alley’s bar sign: Lenny’s, it read in cursive beneath the tilt of a cartoon martini. As the wiring flickered on and off, so did the atmosphere, an apathetic heartbeat on the fringes of Hollywood Boulevard.A police radio from one of the many black-and-whites blocking the entrances to the alley broke the silence with a burst of static, then buzzed to nothing. A hushed crowd was gathering on the slick pavement nearby, people craning their necks to gape through the fog and into the slender passageway. And even though the cops were doing their damnedest to contain the scene, they couldn’t cover up the accident.At least, that’s what they’d called it at first.An “accident.”From the looks of the Aston Martin, it was a f
TWOABOVEEleven Years LaterWHEN Dawn Madison got back to L.A., her dad had already been missing for four days.That’s right. Frank Madison, age forty-seven, a towering charmer with linebacker shoulders and hands strong enough to crack heads when his usual job as hired muscle called for it, was gone, just like that. A fading picture on a Wanted poster. Or maybe even an image on a milk carton or, more appropriately, a bottle of Ex-Lax or whatever geriatrics were gulping down these days. Because in La-La Land, you might as well be dead if you were over thirty. Harsh, but true.Not that Dawn really believed at this point that he was in actual trouble. Every so often, the man went off her radar, hopping on his Harley to take a spin up the California coast so he could carouse with the finest elements of society in roadside greasy spoons and bars. Or sometimes he went on mysterious fishing trips near Mexico only to resurface a week later with crazy stories about mermaids or any variety of tall t
THREETHEVOICEWHATthe hell?When Dawn realized the greeting—or whatever it was—had ended, she attempted to stand again. Her pulse wrestled with her veins, tangling with that first ebbing flare of surprise. The heat was still buzzing through her tummy, trickling, melting even lower.Exciting her.Oh…God…As she panted, confused and overcome, she felt the vibration lingering like a slow thrum of fingers between her legs, stroking her with the pressure of foreplay, stimulating her with a warm flood of fear.She wilted even more against the doorframe, giving in to whatever was happening.What had hit her? It was…Pressing her lips together to stifle a slight moan, then leaning her head back, Dawn brushed a hand over her belly. The muscles there prickled, jumped, sensitive and awakened.It wasgood.Pulse calming to a cautious thud, she languished until the rush eased away. But even then, she was too lazy, too fuzzy-warm to move.Almost like great sex, she thought, wanting more.Almost like a quick erot
FOURTheLostLittleBoyAFTERthe meeting, Kiko persuaded his boss to allow Dawn to go with him and Breisi to the Pennybaker home for an innocuous round of questioning with Robby’s dad. Although the mysterious Voice wasn’t that excited about her riding along, Kiko was adamant—no doubt because, in the psychic’s all-knowing mind, Frank’s daughter was meant be on this case with them. The Voice had to have a lot of faith in Kiko’s talents to go along with this.And, even though she didn’t really buy into the vision thing, she couldn’t fly in the face of this opportunity, either.In any event, the boss had made his employees promise to always keep Dawn in their sights, safe. Truthfully, she didn’t feel the need for babysitting, but if she wanted to be there, following directions from the spook crew was mandatory.And that’s how she got to this point: stuck in the backseat of Breisi’s 4Runner. There were some wanky features, like the panels that had been built into the floor and the compartments in
FIVETHEDAMNEDEVENbefore Dawn could choke out a question—What are these things?—Bresi shoved what was clearly a gun, a .45-caliber revolver, into Dawn’s right hand.“Listen, you must hold up the crucifix, cover me with the gun—you’ve been trained to use it,si?—and don’t you bleeping move from that spot…”Her voice trailed off, and Dawn had the bad feeling that Breisi was hightailing it back to the SUV, deserting them. When she heard a door pop open, her fears were confirmed. But then it sounded like Breisi was rooting around in that back storage area. For what? Shit! She’d left Dawn standing all alone with Kiko, who’d thrust out his own crucifix and gun and…The red eyes were getting closer, framed by the hint of pale faces outlined in the darkness.Damn it, what was she doing here again?Dawn’s gun and crucifix started shaking in her hands.Gradually, moonlight revealed three black-clad creatures hunching out of the trees, moving in a way she’d never imagined possible. It was like they were
SIXBELOW, PHASEONEWORKINGthe whip with skilled ease, Sorin sent one more lash to the bared back of the pale, massive Guard as it cowered against the stone wall.“S…sorry,” the beaten vampire said. “I’m sorry, Master.”Sorin relaxed the whip in mercy as the Guard slumped to the ground of its cell—its home. It had been reduced to groans at its punishment for failing so spectacularly on its mission tonight. The iron of its fangs decorated a grimace; the barb of its sharp tail beat against the stone in pathetic time.Even though it was Sorin’s job to discipline the Guards, among other residents of the Underground, he couldn’t bring himself to strike at the poor creature again. It already understood what had gone wrong: the drone, plus his two newly created comrades who had gone Above tonight, had been careless while tracking their quarry. Once they had been detected, they had panicked, attacking when they should have retreated.That was the problem with the Guards—expendable, lower-rank vampir
SEVENTHEGHOST OF THEPASTTHEPennybakers’ air-conditioned parlor was a stark depository for blunt art: paintings and sculptures which were all circles and squares, severe black-cushioned furniture, white walls. The decor echoed Robby’s mom, who looked like her soul had been turned into a deadened room ever since the death of her son twenty-three years ago.Right now, Breisi was poised on the couch next to Nathan Pennybaker, her casual manner disguising what Dawn recognized as building questions. Sure, there’d been some introductory small talk after the missus had expressed her surprise at seeing the bruised and torn Limpet associates at her front door, but it’d only been a formality.Dawn could see the good-cop/bad-cop pattern emerging. Breisi, uncharacteristically loose and friendly. Kiko, glowering in the corner while holding some of Robby’s old clothes, just to see if he could get any new vibes off of them.In the meantime, Dawn sat quietly on the fringes, sweat drying to stickiness on h
EIGHTTHEOTHERPINESTLEDon a lonely stretch of Hollywood Boulevard, the Cat’s Paw was one of those places that hung rusted license plates on the walls as if they were fine art. It showcased vintage posters with things like 3-D women hefting sledgehammers over their heads, an act that, of course, made their size D breasts the focal point of every uber-heterosexual male within a mile radius. The walls were planked wood, the chairs high, wobbly, and swivelly. There was a polished faux-marble bar—the owner’s pride and joy—and brick pillars reaching up to the ceiling. It smelled of strong alcohol and soured ambitions while a broken-down air conditioner and old Johnny Cash tunes created music.It was Frank’s kind of joint, Dawn thought. And for tonight, it was hers, too.As “Tennessee Flat-Top Box” chugged along on the jukebox, she held a baggie of ice that the bartender had provided against her left wrist. It was an old injury earned from her second movie, when she’d landed wrong on a padded ma
NINETHEHUNGERAT2:00 a.m., the team met in The Voice’s office, rain tapping at the window like it wanted to enter the insular safety of the room as well.On Dawn’s left, Kiko reclined in a lounge chair, ice packs tucked against strategic locations of his body. On Dawn’s right, Breisi sat on an ottoman, straight-backed, one long leg crossed over the other, her foot bobbing with nervous energy.Dawn adjusted her own ice packs, keenly aware of muscles she hadn’t known about before. All of them were whining, too.And then there was the ache, the belly-deep nudge of a craving she hadn’t been able to satisfy back at the Cat’s Paw.She tried to forget it as The Voice talked to Kiko. “In light of the attack, keep your eyes open for vampires hiding behind any corner, waiting for you to be alone.”“So what do you think those tailed things were? They sure were ugly mo’fos. Strong, too.”Outside, a branch moaned against the velvet-shrouded window, and Dawn started in her seat. The covering blocked what w
TENTHELESSONDAWNwoke up late the next morning on a strange couch with a new crucifix hanging around her neck.As things came into focus, she saw a pin-neat living room, complete with a TV, a TiVo box, a stereo system, and about a thousand CDs and DVDs stacked against the walls. The reason the place was so clean was that these were the only things in it.Well, besides a framed poster of Pam Grier as Foxy Brown, the ultimate cool badass.Slowly, Dawn sat up, her body tender with cuts, bruises, and dull pain. Like a one-second newsreel, it all came back to her: the plane ride back to California, the nouveau gothic dollhouse of Limpet and Associates, the vampires, and then…Her skin flushed, heat flowing inward.Thanks to The Voice, she’d actually slumbered well last night. In fact…She glanced at the digital clock on the TiVo. 9:11. She hadn’t slept this long in years.“Morning!” called a cheery voice.Kiko burst into the room from the hallway, tossed a PowerBar at her and deposited a glass of mi
ELEVENTHEINFORMANTKLARAMonaghan sat in front of the mirror in a makeup trailer on location in Santa Monica, where a TV show,Manic Five, was shooting on the amusement park–studded pier. She sat still under the deft touch of the production’s cosmetic artist, who was turning the actress into a prostitute.“It’s only a bit part,” Klara said apologetically, “but it’s better than nothing.”In spite of her smooth face, the skin of her hands was getting wrinkled, showing a middle-forty age range that she would never admit to. Her tinted auburn hair was cotton-candied up into a mockery of a beehive.As Breisi crowded the chair during her “good cop” act, Dawn and Kiko sat to the side, out of the way. The make-up artist kept shooting their associate irritated glances, and Dawn couldn’t blame him. The area was cramped with chairs and supplies, including a variety of wigs.When the man finished his makeover, Klara led everyone outside. She’d wanted privacy while telling them the most sensitive informat
TWELVEBELOW,PHASETWOLATER, Sorin watched a contingent of Groupies readying themselves to journey Above via the deep canyon caves that had once been used as a rock quarry and were now forgotten. The young vampires were dressed in what was known as their “Gothic” finery, primed to blend with humans as well as any other ghouls and stray, non-Underground vampires who wandered the city.The leader, who called herself Galatea, came to the front of the black-clad crowd. As she faced Sorin, her eyes held the silver tint of all Groupies—vampires who had joined the society for the honor of providing food and amusement for the Elites. Above, they would hide their preternatural appearances and abilities, just as chameleons would camouflage themselves in drab surroundings with far less spectacular colors.As the young vampire bowed her head, a thicket of dark, braided hair fell around her moon-white face. Her high cheekbones were decorated with slashes of blue paint, warlike. She wore a blackened Nat
THIRTEENTHEGATHERINGSMOKEand mirrors. That’s what this place was made of, Dawn thought as she, Breisi, and Kiko sat at Bava’s crumbling altar-bar smelling of the garlic they’d rubbed over their skin like insect repellant. If it worked, great. If not, she’d be tasty scampi for some lucky set of teeth tonight.Kiko had been the first to note that this cramped Goth hangout was named for Mario Bava, a noted Italian horror director. It was an homage to one of the artist’s best-known movies,Black Sunday,La Maschera del Demonio. The color scheme was stark gray and white; the inside gutted like a ruined chapel with iron grating, stone coffins, and gnarled branches and weeds creeping over the walls. A tinge of white light rose up from the bar, casting shadows under the faces of the black-garbed bartenders, lending them nefarious attitude to go along with the dyed jet hair and heavy eyeliner. Dog collars, see-through netted shirts, and piercings were the order of the night in here. Throbbing musi
FOURTEENTHEHAUNTEDHOUSEONCEthey were in the car, Breisi turned around in her driver’s seat and let loose. “You’re out of control, Dawn.”“We had them.” Dawn held up her hands in impotent fury. “We should’ve given chase before they disappeared.”“No. We gather information for the boss. We don’t exterminate, not unless we’re attacked and we have to. Besides, that’s how Frank got into trouble—not thinking and pursuing things at a whim, the fool.”Scolding was bringing out the mother in Breisi, or at least, close to what Dawn thought a mother might sound like. The fine wrinkles had deepened around the older woman’s narrowed eyes, her tone final and nonnegotiable.But Dawn didn’t need a parent—never had. As soon as she was old enough, she’d assumed that role in a household where Frank needed someone else to take care of the bills, cook the meals, tuck him into bed after he passed out.Staring out the window, Kiko wasn’t saying a word, so Dawn didn’t know whether or not he was agreeing with Breis
FIFTEENTHESTANDOFFSEVENbucks for an iced tea,” Dawn said to no one in particular as she perused a menu the next day at Chez Rose, a bistro near the trendy Farmers Market.She was seated outside, an umbrella fighting the waning sun, misters spraying huffs of moisture over her garlic-rubbed skin as she waited for Matt Lonigan. At Breisi’s urging and The Voice’s go-ahead, Dawn had called him early this afternoon to finally make an appointment with the PI.The day had been another full one. She’d sent in a concealed weapons permit application that might not even be approved since the L.A. County Sheriff ’s Department wasn’t exactly known for giving out a lot of those. Afterward, she’d arranged to take a class for the permit and had done some shooting at a range with a supply of lead bullets—not the customized silver ones Breisi made—then arranged to meet Matt. Yes, Dawn Madison was turning into a regularMagnum, P.I.“Seven ducats? That glass better come as big and roomy as your head,” said Ki
SIXTEENBELOW,PHASETHREETHATnight, the Underground rang with the presence of all its members, save for those who had been released Above. They had been gathered into a community meeting to pass judgment on a threat that could steal their utopia.On the top tier of the stone theater, the elite citizens sat next to Sorin in cushioned throne seats. The top vampires shone in all their unfathomable beauty, their skin rosy from feeding, their eyes a swirl of colors that did not exist on the surface of earth. Males were bare-chested, dressed only in loose-fitting silk pants. Females decorated themselves with the finest of embroidered materials that seduced Sorin with thoughts of a mighty old world.Then came the Groupies on the lower tiers. Dressed in thin silks, their skin shining with scented oils and glitter, they lounged like cats, rubbing against each other, draped over the stone in lazy luxury. Some had been chosen by the Elites to sit at their feet, the lower-ranking vampires leashed in j
SEVENTEENTHEBODYCAUGHTin a limbo between reluctance and satisfaction, Dawn lay on the couch in Limpet’s office somewhere around midnight.Newsflash: she’d been with The Voice again. Yeah, it was true. Dawn wasn’t about to admit to having a lot of restraint when it came to him or the way he made her feel with his talent for soothing her neuroses. He’d become something like a bed buddy, a comforting return to real life.At least, sort of. If they’d actually been having flesh-to-flesh, wolf-howlingsexsex, it would’ve been just like old times for her. But this kind of loving wasn’t so normal.Evensheknew that.Still, there was one indisputable fact: instead of just entering her from the inside and working his way out tonight, The Voice had kept her overtime, switching from mysteryluv-ahto mentor without intermission. Even during the aftermath of the Big O, he began coaching her on mind blocking, seeing to the fine details of what he called her “greatest weapon.”It’d been a puzzling transition
EIGHTEENTHEBAITBREISIwas making record time through the streets as Kiko leaned over the seat, asking Dawn what happened to her.“Lonigan,” she said. “We had an intense tête-à-tête behind that wall. He was hanging out there.”Her coworkers exchanged a significant look.“What, it’s not like I was making out with him in our special hidden spot.” Dawn hesitated. “Did you…I don’t know…ever wonder if the guy is just after the same things we are? Or if he’s following the trail of vampires and not just Frank?”“Wondering about it now,” Kiko said.“He wasn’t happy to see me…us…there. Not even remotely.”Kiko raised his eyebrows. “Hey, maybe he’s a PI who has a bit on the side, one of them mercenaries who doesn’t want the competition. You know, Breisi, those people we’ve heard about who travel the world bagging vamps for big cash? There’s this website where you can contact them. I’ve been on it.”“It’s possible.” Breisi kept her eyes on the road.“You should’ve heard this story he told me about his pare
NINETEENTHEMIRRORKIKO’Slast comment stripped her of comprehension. It was almost like he’d spoken a foreign language and she was taking forever to translate it, the seconds ticking by in a vacuum.In this slow-motion draw of time, Dawn noticed that Breisi was hiding her face. Had she known about Frank? Had she and The Voice—Dawn’s attention whipped back to Kiko when he hauled in a sharp breath. He blinked his eyes, his pupils contracting to normal size, as if gradually coming back to consciousness.Back to Dawn who, in spite of her nature, had naively started to trust him.You idiot, she thought to herself. See what happens when you let down your guard?See?Her sense of betrayal must’ve announced itself on her face, her whole body, because as Kiko wiped away the sweat that had popped out over his upper lip, he scrambled to explain.“Wait, I know everything that just came out of my mouth, Dawn, and it didn’t sound like the way things really went down.” He glanced at Breisi, as if she could e
TWENTYBELOW,PHASEFOURSORIN, the Master, and a guest were in a secret room watching through a trick window that was mirrored on the side of the citizens. Steam from the spa, where the Groupies waited on the Elites, fogged the glass’s edges, yet a view of the bacchanalia was still clear.Male Groupies massaging female Elites, female Groupies bathing female Elites, or any other combination of pleasure they could dream up. As if to provide a beautiful garnish, Groupies huddled in the room’s misted corners, stroking each other, giggling, as they waited to be called.The hidden Sorin and Master were focused on the nearest of the raised beds, where an Elite was bent forward, naked, his arms propped on a column of harem pillows while he rested on his knees. Three female Groupies attended him: one rubbing her fingers over his scalp, one spreading oil over his broad shoulders, one positioned on her back beneath him, in between his parted legs. Her mouth worked at his penis, taking him in and out a
TWENTY-ONETHEHEALINGNOWthere was definitely no way Dawn was getting any sleep, especially after what had happened with Jonah. And, worse, just knowing that Frank was somewhere out there, in pain, needing help, was even more reason to get a load of caffeine into her.After she left the room where she’d been with The Voice, she engaged in a marathon coffee-drinking session and then went with Kiko back to his place. All the way there, he stumbled over the same explanations about Frank. Having already heard enough from Jonah, she told Kiko to stop apologizing, but shedidn’ttell him that she was never going to forget that he was on the boss’s side, so she just let it lie.Nonetheless, she enlisted him in a ritual that would carry her through the day.“Can you…?” She motioned to Frank’s undershirt.Kiko seemed to understand. As she drove, he touched the material. This time he didn’t go into convulsions; in fact, he didn’t even react.“Nothing,” he said. “But we can keep checking.”That last part a
TWENTY-TWOTHEPAINTHATnight, hell came to L.A.It started around a quarter after midnight, when Dawn, Kiko, and Breisi were back at the office after a long day of interviews plus bar and hotel visits. At the very least, they weren’t getting any evidence to support the theory that Nathan had been using Robby to gather blackmail material against the more powerful players in town. This gave weight to the possibility that he might’ve been lending Robby out to further his career even more. Or was it even more personal than that?Hell, all Dawn knew was that today’s first interview with Robby’s old costar had revealed a viper; all morning, as they’d strolled around the Universal lot, he’d sniped at his fellow child actor, seeming to revel in Robby’s misfortunes. The man was clearly taking out his own failure to succeed in the biz on Robby, but he’d confirmed what Klara Monaghan had told them about Nathan and Robby’s passes at the older costars, and he’d noted that his competitor seemed to be ge
TWENTY-THREETHECHILDWITHOUTROBBY?” Kiko asked.“No-brainer,” Dawn whispered. Her closed throat made her sound like the tense, quick drag of a record needle when it’s yanked off the vinyl.At first glance, the boy looked absolutely human, but there was one big difference—his indescribably colored eyes. They were as magnetic as envy. They made her want to get closer to him, touch him, cry just because he was standing there and he wastheRobby Pennybaker from the covers of magazines and the heaven of movies. Was Kiko unable to look away, too?“You’ve been over at my house,” the boy said, tilting his head in curiosity. “You’ve talked to my dad. You know him?”Not a child, Dawn kept telling herself.This boy, who was dressed to go outside and play in a striped soccer T-shirt and jeans, would be a thirty-five-year-old man by now. She wasn’t talking to a kid here, even if he still looked twelve.Robby repeated himself. “So are you looking for my dad?”“No.” Dawn’s fear gathered itself in anger. “I’m
TWENTY-FOURTHEVISITTHEambulance got to Bava in good time. From there, Kiko was whisked to Lady of Mercy Hospital, and despite the overflowing ER, the staff saw to him as quickly as possible.Though she’d refused to leave Kiko’s side, keeping a hold of his fingers while he bravely smiled then alternately winced, Breisi, who Dawn had called from Bava, had pretty much manhandled Dawn into being taken care of, too. So after Breisi had quietly offered the staff a hefty donation to see Dawn quickly—and to ask no probing questions about Kiko’s injuries—Dawn had caught Breisi up on current events while a doctor stitched up the gape in her cheek. He pronounced that her arm and shoulder were severely bruised—nothing broken, due to her stunt-experienced maneuvering. Then the medical staff handed her some painkillers, but when they weren’t looking, Dawn pocketed the pills. Nothing was going to put her out for the rest of the night; damn the pain.When further news of Kiko came, it was a mixed blessi
TWENTY-FIVEANOTHERRISINGAT3:15AMPacific Time, an Internet broadcast aired to an audience of millions. TV executives would have died for numbers like that.But Tamsin Greene actuallydid.Worldwide, screens revealed the beautiful, ultra-famous woman who had recorded her first CD at age fifteen. Her voice had been hailed by critics and fans alike, her star shooting into the night sky so rapidly that films had followed, as had champagne-filled hot tubs, Grammy and MTV Video Music Awards, and a thousand fan sites devoted to her majesty.Now, at twenty-six, Tamsin was still perfection. Her skin was smooth and dark, her eyes almond-shaped and almost black in hue. Her midnight-dark hair was short, sophisticated, and seductive, revealing a lovely nape and curls gelled to the skin of her sloped cheekbones.As she sat in front of a computer camera in what was obviously her plush,InStylebedroom, Tamsin allowed the tears to fall. She was wearing a creamy satin sheath. A candle burned next to her, makin
TWENTY-SIXTHEREUNIONINorder to sneak up on the Pennybaker mansion, Breisi parked the 4Runner at the bottom of the hill, where the gates were open. It was a far cry from that first visit, when they’d been shut and secretive.As night echoes sought refuge in the darkness, the fighters silently armed themselves: among other toys, Breisi had her death-dealing saw-bow for backup, while Dawn wore whatever she could manipulate with her left hand. This meant that her weapons didn’t includeshurikenor a stake. She didn’t think she could summon enough power to pierce a vamp’s heart with the sharpened wood, so she stuck to carrying the gun, putting a new vial of holy water and a crucifix in her jeans for any other vamp breeds that might show, plus wearing a silver-edged machete from the weapon collection under Breisi’s tarp in back of the car. Dawn slidthatbeauty into a sheath at her right hip, believing that she’d be able to swing the blade with enough force to do some damage if the need arose.As
TWENTY-SEVENNEWMOONHOURSearlier, at nightfall, a star had been reborn.Unlike previous “deaths”—such as Jesse Shane’s—this one had been made easier with the advances of technology. Certainly Dr. Eternity and his trusted group of Servants could have used Hollywood special effects to simulate Tamsin Greene’s gory demise, but there hadn’t been any need for it—not with the doctor’s vampiric talents.The resurrection had been deceptively simple.As night swallowed Los Angeles, Dr. Eternity’s plans had been set into motion. Using the cover of darkness and disguise to emerge Above, the doctor—or Master, as he was known to Sorin and the Elites—visited the victim’s home. There, Tamsin Greene invited him over the threshold.Greedy for forever-fame, she was eager to begin the agreed upon ritual, her makeup carefully applied, her body clothed in satin, her eyes speaking of a fear she would soon forget.Fear of aging. Fear of losing the adoring glances bestowed upon her by millions.Then she led him to h
TWENTY-EIGHTTHERECOVERYITwas midday at the hospital, where Dawn and Breisi sat with Kiko, keeping vigil over his bed. Although they’d taken quick showers at their crash pads to clean the blood off their skin, they hadn’t gotten any sleep, and it was wearing on them.But they could always get some shut-eye in this room, Dawn kept telling herself as she forced her eyes open. She was holding Kiko’s fingers in one injured hand and nursing a coffee with the other while she watched TV. On the other side of the bed, Breisi fiddled with her locator receivers, trying to goose some kind of response out of their silence. Both of them wanted to spend as much awake time with their partner as possible, because tomorrow, when Dawn and Breisi got back to tracking Frank and this Underground, Kiko would be in surgery.Since his L1 vertebra had burst into his spinal column, he’d sustained damage to his spinal cord but hadn’t severed it, thank God. In order to stabilize his back, the doctors planned to use
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