Lucas Read online

  She hit the button and had her window already sliding down before he could go for it. He gave her a sour look, as if maybe she’d spoiled his fun. Like she cared. She flashed her FBI credentials. “Special Agent Kathryn Hunter,” she said. “I believe Mister Donlon is expecting me.”

  The guard studied her silently for a moment, and she studied him back. Black male, shaved head, brown eyes, and she’d been right about the height and weight. About the muscles, too. Not an ounce of fat. He was still staring.

  If he thought to unnerve her with his sphinx act, he was going to be disappointed. She could stare at him all night. She wondered if he was a vampire. She’d never seen one before. They were notoriously camera shy. Even Duncan. He was making the rounds of Capital makers and shakers, partying with the best of them, but while his name was frequently mentioned, she’d never seen a photograph of him. And it wasn’t because of that old superstition about vampires not appearing in mirrors and, by extension, cameras, either. That was just stupid. Simple physics said if a body occupied mass, it interacted with the universe in predictable ways, including mirrors. No, he was simply one step ahead of the photographers, that’s all.

  Nope, vampires lived and breathed just like everyone else. Although, maybe not quite like everyone else, since they certainly lived a hell of a lot longer.

  The sphinx was still staring. She was about to say something when the big guy in front of the car beat her to it.

  “Boss is waiting, Kofi,” he called.

  A flash of irritation crossed her guard’s face before he smiled . . . and displayed two very long, wicked-looking fangs. Kathryn almost groaned out loud. Please. Did he think that was going to put her off? Was she supposed to shriek and race away in her little SUV, never to darken his archway again?

  Kathryn bared her teeth back at him in a perfect smile that was the product of four miserable years of braces as a teenager.

  The sphinx finally grunted and stepped back, nodding at his buddy to do the same.

  “Thank you,” Kathryn said politely. She buzzed her window up, more against the dust from the road than the cold, and continued toward the house. A glance in her rearview mirror showed the sphinx on a cell phone. Probably warning his boss that she was on her way. Good. If they were ready for her, she wouldn’t have to waste time waiting.

  The road very quickly entered a patch of trees that combined pine trees and a bunch of others. Kathryn didn’t know trees. Anything that resembled a Christmas tree was pine, and everything else was just a tree. Good enough.

  It was even darker once she passed under the thick branches. She was tempted to flip on her brights, but figured she’d only be turning them off soon enough. And she didn’t want to show any kind of weakness or fear, especially not of something as straightforward as a little bit of heavy shadow.

  The trees thinned out, and the road straightened. A white rail fence appeared on her right, and she recognized the enclosure as a paddock. It was dark at this end, but there was a well-lit structure in the near distance with more white-fenced enclosures. And in the one closest to the barn, she could see . . . horses. She blinked, not quite believing her eyes.

  “Oh, please,” she muttered. “A cowboy vampire? Like I believe that.”

  As she drew closer, it was obvious the horses were well cared for and well-bred. These weren’t family pets but expensive animals. Was someone training them? Or maybe breeding? Was horse breeding profitable? She wouldn’t have thought so, but she’d have to look it up. She hadn’t found anything in her research to indicate Lucas Donlon was breeding livestock, but that didn’t mean anything. As far as she knew, she was the first federal agent of any kind who’d made it this far. She slowed slightly as she drew even with the paddock. The brightly-lit structure was a horse barn, with a long aisle down the middle and stalls on either side. It all looked very tidy . . . and very expensive.

  Kathryn felt the weight of someone staring at her. She turned her head sharply toward the far end of the paddock and saw that it wasn’t one pair of eyes watching her, but several. Even the horses seemed to be studying her. She knew that was nothing more than a fanciful thought, but there was no mistaking the suspicion of the men. She frowned. Maybe they were all vampires like the gate guard. Did vampires ride horses? Wasn’t there some superstition about animals being more sensitive to vampires than humans were? She supposed it was unscientific of her to give any credence to that kind of superstition, not to mention it was probably politically incorrect. Vampires had fought and won several civil rights lawsuits which took into account their unique natures.

  Not wanting to draw any more attention to herself, she sped up once again, following the road as it circled around the barn, slowing as it dipped alongside a small creek bed for what felt like a hundred yards, then circled around a grassy hill to finally reveal . . .

  Oh. Now that was lovely. And not at all what she’d expected from a vampire’s residence. She hadn’t been foolish enough to imagine he lived in a creaky castle with bats circling around the turrets, but she hadn’t anticipated this, either. This was a beautiful house, built into the hillside and glowing a warm gold in the wash of landscape lights. It was a Craftsman style with a peaked roof and skylights, somewhere around 8000 square feet would be her guess. But there was probably a basement level she couldn’t see, and who knew how big that was? That was one thing the myths got right about vampires. They didn’t like sunlight, which made the skylights an unusual feature, but if the house had windows, why not skylights?

  She drove up the short hill to the foot of the front steps, where a woman appeared to be waiting for her. She wore a severe black pants suit and a blindingly white, tailored blouse, with a short red tie. If not for the spiked heels, Kathryn would have thought she was trying to look like a man. But those heels gave it away. She was either a dominatrix or a lawyer. Kathryn was betting on the latter.

  The woman walked over to the truck as Kathryn was climbing out. She pulled her briefcase off the passenger seat and slammed the door.

  “Agent Hunter,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “I’m Magda Turkova, Lord Donlon’s attorney.”

  Bull’s eye! Kathryn thought to herself and shook the other woman’s hand. “Special Agent Kathryn Hunter,” she said unnecessarily.

  “Lord Donlon is expecting you,” Magda said, her attitude all business, but there was a slight edge of hostility beneath it all.

  Kathryn followed the attorney up the stairs and into a slate-floored foyer that completely lived up to the promise of the golden exterior. The house was single story, but the ceilings were high, the walls raw stucco and painted a blend of warm hues. The décor was decidedly western, but elegant and reeking of wealth. Apparently, it paid to be a vampire, especially one with a title.

  Magda continued through the entry, leading Kathryn around a handsome, double-sided fireplace and into a living room which had clearly been decorated with a male sensibility. Big couches and chairs were gathered around a huge slab of glass that was perched on a piece of rock and served as a coffee table. The room was nicely done, but there were no dainty designer accents, no carefully posed vases or works of art. Instead, there was a pile of magazines comprised of mostly sports and business, with a big screen monitor gracing the main wall. A bookshelf next to the monitor boasted a collection of videos and games and at least four separate gaming consoles. Next to that, a wall of windows looked out on the front of the house and down across the property, with its dark clusters of trees. Kathryn noted the slight distortion that told her the glass in the window was bulletproof. Apparently, all was not happy in the land of vampires.

  The lawyer indicated the seating area. “Lord Donlon will be with you in a moment.” She walked over to a wet bar.

  Of course, there was a wet bar. What else would there be in a man cave like this? Kathryn thought cynically.

  “May I offer you a drink?” Turkova asked. “Or no, you probably can’t drink on duty, can you? We have water, or soft drinks?”


  “Water would be nice. Thank you,” Kathryn said. Normally, she wouldn’t accept anything to eat or drink from a person she was about to question in relation to a crime. But first of all, she wasn’t certain a crime had been committed. Secondly, she had no evidence that Lucas Donlon was directly involved in her brother’s disappearance, and, in fact, doubted that he was. And finally, she was thirsty.

  Magda retrieved a bottle of water from the under the counter refrigerator and grabbed a glass from the overhead rack. “Would you like ice?”

  “No, thank you. And I don’t need a glass. Just the bottle will be fine.”

  Magda gave a brief smile. “My own preference, as well. I can rarely drink one of these things—” She held up the bottle. “—in a single sitting. I like to take it with me rather than throw it away.”

  Kathryn took the proffered water. It was icy cold, the bottle slightly wet with condensation. “So, Ms. Turkova,” she began, but the woman interrupted her.

  “Magda, please. We don’t stand on ceremony.”

  “But you do have guards.”

  Turkova gave a dismissive shrug. “A necessary precaution for my lord’s security.”

  Kathryn tipped her head to one side in curiosity. “You refer to him as lord. Is that a hereditary title of some sort?”

  Magda laughed lightly, sounding genuinely amused. “No, not at all. Vampire society has a feudal structure, Agent Hunter. And Lord Donlon rules a substantial territory.”

  “Feudal . . .” Kathryn repeated, thinking that if nothing else, she’d gain substantial knowledge about vampires from this visit. “Do his subjects—”

  “Not subjects. His people. We have made some concessions to the modern age.”

  “Of course. His people. But if the system is feudal, do they tithe to him?”

  “Naturally. He protects them, defends them from both humans and other vampires. He also runs a considerable corporate empire, which I’m sure you know. Many of his people work for him directly, others he underwrites. Lord Donlon is a businessman, a very successful businessman.”

  “I see.”

  “And you, Agent Hunter, what brings you to South Dakota? I know for a fact that you are not based out of our jurisdictional field office, which is in Minneapolis.”

  Kathryn chuckled, shivering intentionally. “Minnesota’s a little too cold for my bones. No, I work out of Quantico.”

  “I see. And what does Quantico want with Lord Donlon?” Magda’s tone was just as casual as it had been, but her gaze was abruptly intent. The lawyer emerging at last.

  “I’ve made no secret of the reason for my visit, Ms. Turkova. I’m investigating the disappearance of someone. A photographer from California who was here to shoot the Badlands. He’s an artist of some repute and has friends in high places. Hence, the FBI’s interest in what normally would be a matter for state or local authorities.”

  “I see. And what is this photographer’s name?”

  Kathryn smiled, knowing that Turkova almost certainly knew Daniel’s name already. “I’m here to interview your client,” she said mildly, but firmly, “not you, and not to be interviewed by you, either. Is Lucas Donlon available?”

  Magda bared her teeth in an unfriendly smile. She wasn’t as blatant about it as the sphinx-like guard had been, but Kathryn clearly caught sight of two delicate white fangs. “It never hurts to try,” she said.

  “Understood,” Kathryn agreed.

  Magda pulled a cell phone from her pocket and hit a number. “Agent Hunter is here,” she told someone, then disconnected and slipped the phone back into her pocket. “Lord Donlon will see you now.”

  * * * *

  Kathryn followed Magda Turkova out of the comfortable living room and down a long, tile-floored hallway. Turkova’s high heels tapped loudly on the hard surface, and all Kathryn could think of was how cold these floors must be in winter. This was South Dakota, after all. She’d never lived in any of the truly cold states, but she saw the weather reports like everyone else, and South Dakota was usually buried in snow for months at a time. The heating bill for this house must be cosmic. But she supposed if you could afford a place like this on a ranch this big, then you didn’t worry much about heating bills.

  Turkova’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the ID and scowled, but she answered before it rang a second time.

  “Magda.” She listened, then said, “Yes.”

  And that was it. Kathryn figured it was Donlon calling, maybe asking if they were on their way or something. Maybe he was anxious to get the interview over with and return to his vampire business, whatever that was. Actually, her data run on Donlon had listed considerable financial holdings, but everything was owned under his corporate identity of Donlon Inc. It was a private corporation, which meant he wasn’t required to make the details of his holdings and/or earnings public unless he wanted to. And he clearly didn’t want to. Usually, even private corporations made some things public—charitable stuff that was good for their public image, or information they intentionally let slip to influence a particular business transaction. And sometimes political donations were revealed, when it served their corporate interests. But Donlon didn’t seem to care about any of that. She hadn’t been able to find a single article on him or his corporation, not in the major journals, not even in the local newspaper.

  Kathryn and Turkova were met halfway down the corridor by what she took to be another gatekeeper. Male, presumably a vampire, six-foot-three, blond and brown, big shoulders and arms, so probably two twenty-five or more in weight. He was good-looking in an all-American football captain sort of way and gave her an openly friendly smile before stopping them in front of a pair of big wooden doors with iron belting.

  “I’ll take it from here, Magda,” he said, as if he was the one in charge. “Agent Hunter,” he said, turning his attention Kathryn. “My name is Nicholas. Lord Donlon is waiting, if you’re ready?”

  Kathryn scowled inwardly at the use of the honorific for Donlon, but outwardly she only nodded briskly and said, “Yes, thank you.” Unfailingly polite and professional, that’s what the FBI expected of their agents.

  Nicholas opened the door. Kathryn started to step forward, but stopped in surprise when he strode in ahead of her. It threw her off enough that she paused on the threshold until Magda made an impatient noise behind her.

  Kathryn continued into the room, her gaze sweeping the space, cataloging everything she saw. It wasn’t quite what she’d expected, but then so far, nothing about this vampire’s lair had been. The room was big and airy, very masculine, but tasteful, with a grouping of dark leather furniture to one side, in front of an even darker row of wooden bookshelves that lined the entire length of one wall. There was a fireplace on the opposite wall, with a carved wooden mantle, and above that a beautiful oil painting depicting moonrise over what she assumed was the nearby Badlands, although it could just as easily have been MonumentValley in Arizona or another similar desert setting. She wasn’t that familiar with any of them. But the artist had caught the surreal look of those landscapes, and the rising moon gave it such an alien cast that if someone had told her it was another planet, she would have believed them.

  On the side of the fireplace nearest the hallway door, the wall was unadorned except for a series of black and white photographic prints. Kathryn’s eye ranged over the photographs as closely as she could without being obvious about it, and there was no doubt. She had none of Daniel’s talent, but she had a terrific eye for detail, and she knew his work. They were from a series he’d done on Ireland some years ago.

  Her gaze shifted to the vampire she’d come to see, Lucas Donlon, but the broad-shouldered Nicholas was still in the way. Impatient now, she started to walk around him just as he addressed Donlon, saying, “My lord,” and stepped aside, like a magician revealing his trick.

  * * * *

  Lucas sprawled behind his desk, consciously projecting an image of negligent ease, which was at complete odds with what he was feeling. The timing
on this FBI investigation sucked overall, although he was glad to get it over with at last. With his incursion last night into Klemens’s territory, war had been declared. Up until now, the Midwestern vampire lord had limited himself to an occasional, if irritating, foray along the border in an attempt to seize assets he knew belonged to Lucas. His success had been limited, but with the assassination attempt on Raphael, and now Lucas’s response, the gloves would be off. And Klemens was a dirty fighter.

  Vampire wars in general were fought differently than human wars. For one thing, there were no grand battles. There weren’t enough vampires on either side for that, and most of those were civilians, who everyone agreed should be left out of the bloodshed as long as they didn’t insert themselves into the confrontation. Or hang around with traitors like Heintz.

  Instead, the war would consist of a series of skirmishes, short-lived and bloody. Every vampire lord had his warriors, some more than others, but no one had more than a few hundred. Because wars were fought with a limited number of combatants, there were lulls in the fighting. Like now. With Lucas’s successful strike last night, and especially since Klemens had suffered the loss of both property and vampires, it would be at least a few days before Klemens could pick a target and rally his forces for a counterattack. That didn’t mean Lucas could relax. His people were on alert all up and down the eastern border, and his warriors were staged in such a way that at least a few of them could reach any attack point fairly quickly. Their job was to hold the line until backup arrived.

  So, if Lucas had to deal with the FBI, this was as good a time as he would get for the foreseeable future. But this whole thing was a waste of time. He didn’t know anything about a missing person, and neither did any of his vampires. He’d questioned them specifically about this matter so that none of them could weasel out and lie to him. A vampire couldn’t lie to his Sire or his sworn master, and Lucas didn’t permit anyone to reside within his territory unless they were at least sworn to him. Most of the vampires living on the ranch itself were his own children, and that included everyone who worked closely with him in the main house.