Page 78 of The Second Sight
“Tonight,” Desmond continued. “The abandoned train yard at 11 PM. Bring Theia’s daughter. Come alone, just you and Lily. I’ll bring the human girl.”
“Agreed,” I said simply.
“Wonderful,” Desmond replied. “Until tonight, vampire.”
The call ended with a click that echoed in the silent office. I stared at the phone for a long moment. Pure hatred burned in my chest like holy water on vampire flesh did in old horror picture shows.
“Seven,” Lily said softly. “We need to prepare.”
I nodded. “Yes,” I agreed. “We have a trap to set. Did you complete your training with Zander Valentine’s head of security?”
Lily’s lips curled into a slight smile, the expression both beautiful and deadly. She was my family. I made her a vampire in the spring of 1639, shortly after I discovered her dying of the plague in London. She was born Humility Cooper in the year 1619, the daughter of Robert Cooper, whose wife died during childbirth in Henlow, England. She, like me, came to America on theMayflower in 1620. She was a mere one-year-oldin the custody of her uncle and aunt, Edward and Agnes Tilley. Unfortunately, both her Edward and Agnes Tilley died the first winter at Plymouth, and Humility was sent back to England in1627. In my travels, I stumbled across my shipmate living or dying in the parish of Holy Trinity. Humility Cooper became Lily Crackstone, and the rest was our shared history.
“Yes, I completed my training with Natasha,” she confirmed, her fingers brushing against her hip where I knew the Cripo Glock was concealed. The weapon was advanced tech entrusted to us from the vampire owner of the nightclub FOY. I didn’t know much about the weapon, but I knew it could only be used by its owner. “I’m ready.”
“Good,” I said, rising from my desk. “I hope this Cripo Glock can kill more than just vampires.”
“It doesn’t actually kill vampires. It just immobilizes them.” She corrected. “Natasha said the toxins in the bullets will kill a human.”
“Let’s hope the Bambara still possess enough human DNA to make the gun effective.”
“Let us hope.”
“You’ll need to coordinate with Romeca. I want the fairies positioned strategically around the train yard. Their wings give them an aerial advantage we can’t match.”
“Do you trust them?” Lily asked, the question loaded with centuries of prejudice between our kinds.
“No,” I admitted. “But their interests align with ours tonight. Desmond has hunted their people near extinction. They want him dead as badly as we do, and I believe Romeca wants to score points with her niece.”
“Do you think Kasi’s fairy bath did anything?” Lily asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“Only time will tell. If it did, Desmond will want her even more,” Lily pointed out. “We have to kill him.”
“That is my plan. Desmond won’t touch her. I don’t care what I have to sacrifice.”
Lily’s expression softened. “You truly love her,” she said, not a question but a realization. “As you loved Basirah.”
“Differently.” I corrected, the comparison stirring complex emotions. “Basirah was my vampire mate. Kasi is...” I searched for words to describe what she meant to me. “Kasi is dawn breaking after the longest nights of darkness.”
“Seven, what happens if she wants to go back with her people?”
“Either I hold her hostage or I let her go,” I said simply, the words painful yet true. “I’ve lived long enough to know that loving someone means sometimes setting them free. But that’s a concern for tomorrow.”
I moved to the wall where my weapons collection hung. The wall housed blades and firearms spanning centuries of craftsmanship. My fingers traced the hilt of a silver dagger I’d carried back in 1702. Its edge was enchanted by a Creole witch in New Orleans.
“Desmond will bring his best hunters,” I said, selecting the dagger and securing it in my boot. “Tarus certainly, and others we haven’t encountered yet. We need to be prepared for anything.”
“The coven fighters are already mobilizing,” Lily assured me. “Marcus and Feliz are briefing the others now.”
I nodded, determination hardening my features. “Good. We’ll need every advantage tonight.”
Somewhere in Chicago, Desmond Moreau believed he was getting a half-Fae girl whose blood he coveted. What he didn’t realize was that he had walked willingly into the territory of a vampire who had spent a century planning his revenge.
Tonight, one of us would not walk away. And after four hundred years of existence, I had no intention of it being me.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
