"Approaching the fire escape. But there is time, if you wish to abort this plan."

  "No, no, let's keep going. I'm taking the spiral staircase now." I crept up each step, expecting to hear the thunderous roar of gunfire despite the fact that my newly amplified senses told me the second floor was empty as the first. The silence held. So did my nerves, but just barely. If some joker jumped out of the shadows and yelled Boo! I'd blow his head off without even thinking.

  The cavernous room's only light emanated from the red and white exit sign stationed above a dark door on the back wall. I walked past the dance floor and a steady succession of tables dressed in white cloths. Each held a black vase with a black rose in it. Matching black candles flanked the roses, each held by expensive looking crystal.

  I eyed the door. No telling what lay behind it, and any surprises promised to be nasty. I looked around, hoping to find another way up. What I saw suspended from the ceiling reminded me of a university theater. Lights tilted at every possible angle covered the entire expanse, except for the section taken up by the catwalk. It started at a glass-walled booth, perched nearly ten feet above my current position, and wandered across the ceiling in a pattern that allowed access to all the lights. A black metal ladder, nearly invisible against the darker black wall, allowed access from my level. I told Vayl what I'd found.

  "I'm going to check it out," I said. "Maybe the booth has a back door."

  "Good idea. I am headed up to the third level now. Looks like the windows are boarded up, so you will have to be my eyes."

  "Okay."

  I climbed the ladder, which hugged the wall from floor to ceiling, intersecting the catwalk on its way. From there just a couple of steps took me to the door of the overlook. It was open.

  I kept expecting a gang of goons to jump out from behind a curtain and start shooting. "But nobody's here," I whispered. "What are they planning?" I stepped into the booth. To my left, a bank of unlit controls stretched from one edge of the window to the next. Two black chairs on rollers parked in front of it. The only other contents of the room were an empty trashcan and a full ashtray. There was, however, another door. I eased it open, expecting a sound, a click maybe, that would signal the closing of a trap. I need not have bothered. The trap Aidyn and Assan had set for me was too big for a click. A gong, maybe, but not a click.

  This time my senses told me the room wasn't empty, was actually inhabited by someone feeling deep, repeated waves of misery, and once again they were right. I pulled a long-handled dental mirror out of the kit I'd packed at Bergman's, and slipped it through the crack I'd made in the door. I couldn't see any guards, not one. I did see Cole.

  He sat in a chair in the middle of a room that reminded me strongly of Granny May's attic. Boxes, old trunks and abandoned chairs took up every bit of wall space. From the scuff marks in the dust, it looked like they'd been shoved to the sides to make room for the chair. And Cole.

  He sat perfectly still, looking straight ahead, breathing through his mouth because his nose had been broken. The only way I managed to contain the fury I felt at seeing him hurt like that was to promise myself that I would damage Assan badly before I finally wiped him off the face of the earth.

  After another look around the room, I decided Cole was its sole occupant.

  "Jaz?" Vayl's voice in my ear held the slightest trace of worry.

  "I'm here. So's Cole. But it looks like everybody else has taken a coffee break."

  "These boards are flimsy. I can break through them anytime you need me."

  "But you'd rather keep a low profile?"

  "For now. We are only going to get one chance at this surprise. But be careful. This is weird stuff."

  "I'm getting good at weird," I said grimly, nudging the door wider with my foot while I trained Grief on various sections of the room, both of us primed for attack. The only thing that happened was Cole turned his head and saw me.

  He looked like a spring break boozer who's somehow survived a tumble off the balcony. Black and blue bruises covered his entire face, except for where it was red from dried blood. Blood-crusted gashes showed through his torn clothes. His hands, laying limp in his lap, were swollen, the knuckles scraped and cut. He could've gotten up at any time, nothing bound him to the chair, or even to the room, but he stayed put, looking at me with wordless regret.

  "Cole?" I stepped forward and he said, "Stop." The word came out slurred, mostly due to his fat lip, but I also noticed a couple of gaps where he'd had teeth the last time we talked.

  "We've got to get out of here," I urged him.

  "Can't."

  "What?"

  He shifted his gaze and I followed his eyes to a dark, lifeless t.v. that sat on top of a round, wooden bar stool. It blinked to life and within seconds I was involved in a staring match with Mohammed Khad Abn-Assan.

  Mostly for Vayl's benefit I said, "Assan, what are you doing on t.v.? Don't you know scumbags like you have been outlawed by the FCC?"

  "Good evening, Lucille. Or should I say Jasmine? We appreciate your quick arrival. Gives us some extra time to prepare."

  "For what?"

  He chuckled, flashing a couple of gold fillings as he looked off camera, sharing his amusement with his comrades. "Why, the end of the world as we know it."

  The fear that spiked through me fueled my comeback. "You know, you could be killed for throwing cliches around like they actually mean something. However, I believe I'll kill you for your other crimes instead. Starting with your wife's death."

  Cole made a desolate, lost sound that demanded comfort. But I couldn't give it. Not now, while I was still locked in conversation with Assan. He laughed again, his absolute lack of remorse making me feel truly murderous. "You are a jewel. How fortunate for us both that my master has created the perfect setting for you."

  "Bozcowski's not a master. He's a slave to his own psychotic fantasies." And the Raptor, I'm just sure of it, if I only had proof.

  My comment worked like peanut butter on a mousetrap. No sooner had I laid it down than here came the rodent himself, leaping into the camera frame, red-faced and defiant. I expected him to bluster, but he pulled it together fast. He actually smoothed his thick, stubby fingers through his gray-blond hair and straightened his navy blue suit coat. Ah, the magic of television.

  "You are a straight talking woman, aren't you?" he said. "Well then, I'll give it to you straight. Your actions in the next few minutes will determine whether or not your young man dies. You see, we've strapped a clever little device beneath the seat of his chair. If his weight leaves that chair, it will explode, destroying the two of you, the club and most of the block it sits on. Think of the loss of innocent life."

  "Go on."

  "I can disarm it temporarily from my present position, but only for the ten seconds it would take for you to switch places with him."

  Scumbag. "You don't mind if I check out your story, do you?"

  He beamed at me as if I'd just won him a bet. His jowls quivered with pleasure, reminding me of that bulldog from the old cartoon. Would he come prancing into the room if I yelled, "Oh Belvedere, come here boy!" I hid a smirk at the mental image as he said, "Of course not, feel free."

  I knelt in the dust of Club Undead's attic and peered under the chair. Yup, definitely a bomb. I had seen similar devices in bomb squad manuals under the heading, 'Run Like Hell!' I had that sinking-in-quicksand feeling that anything we tried now would only make us descend deeper and die sooner.

  I stood up again, my mind looping around a single word—run, run, run, run—and providing the Pink Floyd soundtrack to back it. A roaring began in my ears, and it had nothing to do with my reconfigured hearing aides. The blackness came next, creeping into my peripheral vision like a feral dog, making my face tingle, making my eyes water. Instinct made me stiffen, resist. It felt so much like losing control, being engulfed in some other, more powerful personality.

  I looked at Cole and my heart began its own chant. Get him out, get him safe, whatever it takes, whatever it takes, whatever…

  I let my head fall forward and closed my eyes. Without the distraction of sight, I could feel the blackness towering over my psyche like a monstrous storm-filled sky. I resisted the urge to bolt. I didn't invite it in. I just listened. Instantly the roaring sounded less like the Atlantic hammering Florida during Hurricane Charlie and more like… a voice. All it said was, "Let yourself go," but the words carried a richer meaning, showed me exactly what needed to be done.

  I raised my head and opened my eyes, catching Bozcowski in such a look of greedy anticipation that I was suddenly reminded of the villain who starred in many of my childhood nightmares, the kid-snatcher from "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang."

  "Why me?" I asked.

  "Previous experience has taught us we need a willing sacrifice. Taking Cole's place makes you willing. It also eliminates the irritation you've been causing." As if I was a hangnail. But there's power in being so severely underestimated.

  I addressed Assan. "So that's why using Amanda's brother in India failed, huh? He wasn't a willing sacrifice. Way to read the fine print, dufus."

  Assan's eyes nearly crossed with fury at my disrespect, but something made him look off-camera, then move aside. Aidyn Strait joined him and Bozcowski in front of the lens and I fought to remain calm, to mask the fury that whipped through me with stunning force.

  "There is no such thing as a failed experiment," Aidyn informed me. "I was working on an entirely different project when I discovered the red plague quite by accident. And I could never have developed it without a series of trials helping me refine it to full potency."

  The Red Plague? Such a simple name for something designed to be so horrific. I felt sure we were only going to get one chance to turn the tide, so I kept playing along, fishing for information, watching for some slip that would betray their weakness. I said, "That's what I don't get. Why don't you just let it spread the way the flu does? Why all this elaborate human-to-vampire mumbo jumbo?"

  Aidyn looked to Bozcowski, who smiled at him like an indulgent parent. "Go ahead, tell her," he said. Aidyn nodded.

  "It is the only way I've found to keep the red plague from mutating into a run-of-the-mill virus." He spoke eagerly, as if I was the science reporter for the New York Times. "When I began this experiment I planned for a sexual transmission. You people were so steeped in free love and multiple partners, I supposed sixty-five percent of you would have been dead in six weeks. But the virus mutated into a non-lethal form when humans spread it to one another. I found out quite by accident that, when it is transmitted to vampires via human blood, it becomes nearly ninety percent lethal. However it also loses its contagion characteristics."

  I interrupted him. "You mean, it can't be spread?"

  "Not by the vampire carrier. I cannot tell you how frustrating the entire process has been."

  Wow. Did anybody else see a Divine Hand dipping down to smack Aidyn every time he took a forward step on this one? First his abominable disease turns into a bunny rabbit when he tries to get humans to pass it around. Then he gets the bright idea for vamps to take the lead role, but they're like a bunch of two-year-olds. NO, WE WON'T SHARE!

  Aidyn continued, "However, One among us knew the story of a visionary leader named Tequet Dirani and how he nearly ruled this world and those beyond, with the help of the Tor-al-Degan. She will be our delivery system. She will take the plague from the infected vampire and spread it to the world."

  "So, what are you telling me, that I should send my damn-you're-an-evil-genius-Hallmark card to the Raptor?"

  Bang. If we'd been standing in front of an impartial jury I'd have gotten my guilty verdict simply from the expressions on their faces. They recovered quickly, however, and without revealing anything incriminating, damn them.

  But maybe they didn't need to. Vampirella had said something before I smoked her that didn't make a lot of sense at the time. She'd said Aidyn would kill her for a guy named Edward, because she and Boris had rejected his proposals. So, just for laughs, let's say Boris and Vampirella are the Vultures of a Russian nest that the Raptor wants as an ally because maybe it's big and bad and centrally located. The Raptor approaches them with a proposal and they say hell no. He's pissed, so he works it out with Aidyn to bring them to Miami, get them killed by plague (or by assassin) and both he and Aidyn get what they want. Huh. I'd have to do a little research to back up my theories, but I was willing to bet I'd just discovered the Raptor's real name.

  All this time Aidyn had been considering me silently. Now he said, "You look familiar. Do I know you?"

  His question staggered me. Did he know me? I experienced an endless moment of total nothingness, like the shock you get right before the boom of a nuclear blast. In that white stillness I instinctively wanted to grab onto something solid. My emotions were suddenly so mangled I couldn't believe I was capable of coherent thought. Oh. My. God! Then I became the explosive, a sleek silver canister containing a mushroom cloud full of infinite death. He'd killed Matt. He'd killed me! And I was supposed to keep chatting him up as if we'd met at a conference years ago and were getting reacquainted?

  "Jasmine!" It was Vayl's voice in my ear, concerned, maybe even a little panicky. "I can sense your feelings from out here. Something is tearing you up inside. Do I need to come in?" Hell yeah! Get in here and trash this room! Impale Aidyn's image on that coat rack over there! Save Cole! Save me!

  I took a deep breath. And another. I had to get control. Right. Now. I started to shake. Full body tremors that made me tighten my shoulder blades and clench my hands. My teeth didn't quite chatter but it was a close thing, as if I'd been walking in 40 degree weather with no coat for hours.

  I closed my eyes. The killing time will come, Jaz. You can wait for it. The Voice told you so.

  "Jasmine, I am coming in," said Vayl.

  "No."

  "No?" Aidyn echoed.

  "No, you don't know me," I replied, wishing my voice wouldn't shake like that. I tried to get back to the facts. Things we at the C.I.A. would want to know when we prosecuted the ones Vayl and I didn't immediately terminate. "What I don't get is—why kill us off in the first place? The way you look at things, that's the majority of your blood supply moved so far down the food chain even the worms wouldn't benefit."

  Aidyn began shaking his head before I'd finished. "No, not at all. We are simply culling the herd, weeding out the weak in order to purify our stock. When they are gone, we will introduce the antidote." I wanted to wipe the smug expression off his face—with a flamethrower. "This will, of course, make the survivors extremely grateful to us. In fact, they will decide they owe us something in return for saving them from the very plague we have begun."

  "I suppose that's where you step in, Senator?"

  He gave me his classic, CNN smile. So caring, so sincere. Ass. "A country under siege needs a strong leader. A popular leader. Someone who can explain the new order to them in such a way that they'll wonder why they didn't think of it themselves." His delivery was so smooth I'd have bet he was speaking from a script. One written by Edward the Raptor.

  "And that is?"

  "Willing servitude, Jasmine dear. Blood for safety, blood for health. It's not such a high price to pay. I'll show them that."

  "And your terrorist friends get to see America brought to her knees."

  Assan flashed his teeth. "We'll be dancing in the streets."

  It wasn't hard to envision. They'd done the same after the Towers fell, and I'd wanted to kill every one of the sons of bitches then. Soon I'd get the chance. But first…

  I sighed. "All right. Flip the switch. I'm trading places with Cole."

  "Like hell!" said Cole, while at the same time Vayl snapped, "You will not do this!"

  I took Cole by the hands, but I spoke to Vayl too when I said, "You have to trust me now. Believe me. I know what I'm doing."

  Vayl's voice blared in my ear as Cole tried to shake his head without passing out. "Jasmine! I forbid this!"

  "Now!" yelled Assan. "Switch!"

  I squeezed Cole's hands as hard as I could, yanked him out of his chair and took his place. He staggered backward until he collided with a pile of boxes. I thought he'd hit the floor next, but he found his balance.

  "Time to go," I told both of my men, before either could argue. "I'll see you again. Soon."

  "I'll be back for you," Cole vowed, his battered face combining with his ferocious expression to make him resemble a biblical prophet. Wild.

  "I'm counting on it," I said. I checked Grief to make sure the safety was on, tossed it to him. "Shoot anyone who tries to stop you. Now get going."

  With a final nod, Cole stumbled out of the room. I didn't have time to worry about whether or not he'd make it down the ladder, much less the stairs. The three amigos were still tuned in and I really needed to get rid of them.

  "Would you like me to prepare you for tomorrow's activities?" Assan inquired. "We have such a fantastic evening planned."

  Oh goody, I've given myself over to the Cruise Director of the Beast Boat. "Why don't you surprise me?" I suggested. "You give me too many details and I may just decide to walk away from this whole deal."

  "But—you would be blown up!"

  "Exactly."

  He and Aidyn exchanged a quiet word with the senator. "Very well then, we will leave you in peace." The picture flickered and faded to gray. They'd gone, though I was sure somebody over at Psycho Central still kept tabs on me.

  I closed my eyes and lowered my head. Hopefully my watcher would assume I was praying. And in a way, I was. As when I made my out-of-body visit to David, I focused my entire mind on what I wanted. Except this time I had the right words to go with it, words the Voice gave me now in tremendous, booming thumps, as if they resounded from the world's largest drum.

  My voice was a quiet murmur, fitting perfectly with the dust and neglect surrounding me. As the words spilled over my lips I began to feel dizzy and disconnected, as if the moment before sleep falls had been magnified a hundred times. My entire body began to tingle, and if I touched someone right now I'd expect to shock them.