The Rose Ransom (Girls Wearing Black: Book Three) Read online

  That’s where Renata came in. Tonight’s visit was the first in years where she didn’t arrive with a suitcase full of money. Not that she was approaching the house empty-handed. Tonight she came with a 3-ring binder she had turned up after an exhaustive search on the Farm. Inside that binder was the research report Melissa had stolen from the Evans family, the research that would allow them to finally finish their work.

  Renata’s driver took her to the main entrance. Falkon met her on the front porch.

  “Good evening. I’m so glad to see you tonight,” he said in his ridiculous accent.

  Renata didn’t know Falkon’s story—nobody did anymore except for him—but in his voice, she could hear some of his thousand-year history. His accent was a mix of Transylvania, czarist Russia, and Slovakia. Not a hint of Italian even though he’d lived in this villa for as long as Renata knew him. Falkon was like Daciana in that way. She too never lost the accent of her homeland, even after a century in the New World.

  Falkon kissed her on the cheek. Renata gave him the 3-ring binder.

  “Ah yes,” he said. “Here it is. I can’t wait to get started.”

  He took her hand and led her into the house, where three humans were waiting to greet her.

  “Renata Sullivan, meet Dr. Sharon Weiss from the University of Berlin. She has been promoted to senior scientist following the untimely departure of Hank Evans.”

  Renata shook hands with the woman, who had the sort of severe look that only a German could pull off.

  “And these two young lads will be our interns for the next few months,” Falkon said, gesturing at a pair of scruffy-looking college boys.

  “Interns?” said Renata. “I didn’t know we had interns.”

  “Yes, well, you know how young blood can inject new life into a project,” said Falkon. He gestured at one of the boys, a dark-haired kid with splotchy facial hair and baggy pants.

  “Mateo here is from the University of Madrid,” Falkon said. “Studying…what was it again?”

  “Chemistry,” Mateo said.

  “Yes, yes of course. And this other handsome fellow is named Channing. He is from Princeton.”

  Channing was a short blonde kid wearing a ring in his nose and a T-shirt that paid homage to some comic book hero named Manta Ray.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Sullivan,” he said.

  Renata knew right away that Falkon wasn’t being upfront with these boys. They were far too chipper and eager to please. They weren’t Falkon’s type at all. He preferred to work with humans who could hold their own with him, who wouldn’t be afraid to tell him the truth, even when he didn’t want to hear it.

  She was about to ask Falkon point blank what he was up to when she caught sight of the servants setting up a chess board in the dining room. Now she understood. Falkon was going to have some fun.

  He turned to the college kids. “Mateo, Channing, please have a seat at the table. You are going to play chess. Mateo will take the white pieces.”

  “Chess? Right now?” said Channing.

  “It is a tradition of sorts,” Falkon said. “Please, come this way.”

  They both smiled and nodded, still so very eager to please. Poor saps.

  “I enjoy a good game of chess,” said Mateo.

  “Me too,” said Channing. “I’ve been in chess club since middle school.”

  “Marvelous,” said Falkon, clapping his hands together. “Just marvelous. Let us hope you are evenly matched and it is a good game. When you are done, I will give a prize to the winner. Begin!”

  Mateo grabbed the pawn above his bishop and moved it forward a square. Channing moved his knight. Renata watched as the two kids laid out their pieces in a very traditional opening. It was clear that they were both experienced chess players.

  Renata had never been much of a chess enthusiast until she met Falkon. He made her play chess every time she came to visit. He also engaged her in ongoing games over the Internet, and even made her install a chess app on her phone. To Falkon, chess was a way to manage the boredom of a life without end. It was a mental exercise that still challenged him even after a thousand years.

  Mateo pushed his bishop into Channing’s territory. It was an aggressive move that Channing could exploit if he worked the board right.

  “Ah, and now the real game begins,” Falkon said. “Your pawns are in place and your stronger pieces are coming out to play. Would either of you care to hear about the prize I intend to offer the winner?”

  Both boys nodded their heads like eager little puppies.

  “The winner gets to assist Dr. Weiss on my research project until it is complete,” Falkon said. “It’s a very good prize, isn’t it?”

  “But, I thought we both were here to assist Dr. Weiss,” Mateo said.

  “You are,” said Falkon. “And one of you will get to. The winner of this game becomes her assistant.”

  Channing furrowed his brow. “You’re not saying the loser…does the loser still get to work on the project?”

  “The loser becomes our test subject.”

  A second of silence passed through the room.

  “What do you mean test subject?” said Channing.

  Renata shook her head. These poor kids. They probably answered some advertisement Falkon placed in their school paper. What a deliciously cruel game he was playing with them.

  “You are here to do highly classified, cutting edge research under the guidance of Dr. Weiss and in accordance with my instructions,” Falkon said. “Your research will be done on human test subjects.”

  “We’re testing on humans?” said Channing. “So this is like, a pharmaceutical thing? I thought you wanted us to do computer work.”

  “Computers do play a large role,” said Falkon. “In fact, why don’t we step away from the game for a minute and go look at the facilities? After you know more about the work we are doing, you’ll better understand what’s at stake in your chess game. Come along.”

  Falkon led the group to the back of the house, where a long stairwell connected his home to the the lab on the terrace below. Renata walked next to Dr. Weiss as they went all the way to the bottom and into the computer room.

  “And here it is, the heart of our operation,” Falkon said, opening his arms wide in presentation.

  “Wow,” Channing whispered, clearly in awe.

  Falkon’s computer room was quite a sight. Computers controlled their research project, and over the years, they found more and more computing power was needed. In this room alone, there were dozens of powerful computers, all networked together.

  “What are you doing with all this?” Channing said.

  “We are building a genetic sequence,” said Falkon. “The computers control experiments throughout the lab, and also compile results we have collected from similar research all around the world. In fact, tonight my dear friend Renata has brought some of the most important research of all.”

  Falkon held up the 3-ring binder Renata had given him.

  “This, Dr. Weiss, will be keeping you busy in the weeks to come.”

  The slightest of smirks came to Dr. Weiss’s lips.

  “What is that?” Channing said. “Are you actually working on paper?”

  Falkon laughed. “Oh, my boy, you truly are a product of the age. Yes, we often use paper around here. And if not paper, then removable storage devices that we hand-carry from one facility to another.”

  “Why in the world do you do that?” Channing asked.

  “Our research is data-intensive and highly sensitive,” Falkon said. “Far too many spying eyes out there to send it over the Internet.”

  “What’s so sensitive about it?”

  “Ah, that is a good question! To answer it, we must go to the lab.”

  Falkon led them out of the computer room, up two flights of stairs, and into a room with large windows occupying an entire wall.

  “This is our viewing deck,” Falkon said. “Please approach the windows. I will turn
on the lights and you can see the laboratory.”

  Falkon went to the end of the room and flipped a light switch, illuminating what was on the other side of the windows.

  “Oh my God, what is this?” Channing said.

  In front of them was the specimen cage, a huge, multi-level prison where every cell had a glass door that allowed a full view of the subject inside.

  “Dr. Weiss, Channing, Mateo, meet the rest of the family,” said Falkon.

  They were looking at sixteen prison cells, each hosting a single creature inside.

  Renata enjoyed watching the reactions of the humans. Dr. Weiss stood close to the window, looking on with fascination. She had a bit of lust in her eyes, just as Hank Evans did when he got his first glimpse of the work he’d be doing.

  Mateo, too, looked more curious than frightened. Channing, however, looked absolutely panicked. He was the first to speak.

  “What the hell are those things?”

  “They are feral vampires,” said Falkon. “Distantly related to Renata and myself, in the same way you humans are related to Neanderthals and cavemen. There are only a few links in the genetic code that separate these creatures from Renata and me.”

  Renata turned away from the window. The ferals grossed her out. And to think that they shared genetic info with her. To think that her blood had helped to create these horrible things.

  All gray-faced and hunched over, the feral vampires were what happened if you took away a vampire’s culture and sophistication, and left only the blood-thirsty predator. This batch of ferals was made using both Renata and Falkon’s blood. In a way, these creatures were part of her clan, a clan where she was queen and Falkon was king.

  But neither of them liked to think of these monsters as their brothers and sisters. Instead, they called them pets. Sixteen pets with different personalities and levels of obedience.

  “Research? You mean, you made these things?” Channing said.

  “I unlocked the genetic code that separates human from vampire, at least, at the most basic level,” said Falkon. “Our challenge going forward is to modify that code further so we aren’t creating these rabid beasts, but instead are making real immortals. When we are done, we will have a clan of immortals that is larger and more powerful than any on earth.”

  “This is really crazy,” Channing said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dillinger. I’m not interested in this job. If you can call me a cab, I’ll--”

  “You will finish your chess game,” Falkon said in a commanding voice. “Renata has brought me a binder of research that requires testing. We need a test subject.”

  “No way!” Channing shouted. “There’s no way I’m doing this!”

  “Are you saying you forfeit the game?”

  “I’m saying I want out of here!”

  Channing ran out of the room and sprinted down the hall. Falkon walked up to Mateo and slapped him on the back.

  “Congratulations,” he said. “It looks like you are the new research assistant for Dr. Weiss. You will start immediately. Renata, give me a minute to go catch our newest test subject, then I will take you to see Nicky.”

  Renata listened as Channing reached the end of the hall and ran out the front door.

  “Have fun,” she said. “See you in a few minutes.”

  Chapter 14

  Monsters with poison fangs and spiders all over her skin—that was what little Nicky dreamed about when the black van stole her and Frankie away in the night.

  Later, she learned it was the knockout gas. Addonox was its chemical name. Addonox gave everyone nightmares. For Nicky, the nightmares were so vivid she still couldn’t shake the memory of them, and even though she had since learned to control her fear of vampires, of danger, even of death, she still was a little afraid to go to sleep at night. She was still afraid of what was waiting for her in her dreams.

  Addonox was the chemical that came spraying out of the canister on the airplane. Nicky knew it when she saw it, and in her final microsecond of awareness before she collapsed, she knew she was headed into another nightmare.

  And that Ryan was too.

  For Nicky, the nightmare was a crystal clear, fast-forward version of the recurring dream that had haunted her since the Masquerade. She stood in front of a silver sphere, in the courtyard of a brick building with a big glass window. Her mother stood behind the glass.

  Her mother was gray-faced, yellow-toothed, angry, and sick. She pounded on the glass until it broke, then she rushed after Nicky. Nicky tried to run but couldn’t get away. Her mother bit her in the neck. Her blood ran cold as sickness entered her body. She screamed in agony. She died.

  She stood in front of the sphere again.

  On and on it went, an endless loop of terror and death. Back at home, when she had this dream, she always woke up at the part where her mother bit her. But now the Addonox trapped her in the nightmare. It started, it ended, it started again. Every time her mother’s cold teeth bit into her neck, every time that awful sickness poured into her blood, she prayed that this time it was over, that this time she would wake up.

  So when she did actually wake up, finding herself in a cold, dark prison cell, with a mattress on the floor and a commode in the corner, she didn’t feel frightened so much as relieved.

  And then the vision started anew.

  “Oh no,” Nicky said, closing her eyes, willing it to go away. “What’s happening?”

  She didn’t know if this was a new part of the dream or if she had somehow pulled the nightmare into the waking world, but as she sat in the darkness, she lost herself in the vision. She was standing in front of the sphere again. She was looking at her reflection.

  “This isn’t happening,” she said. “It isn’t real.”

  Her words did nothing. The world of the dream was more vivid than ever. In the darkness of her prison cell, the vision filled her senses.

  I am in the courtyard. I am looking at the sphere. I am waiting.

  Waiting for what? Something was different.

  In this vision, her mother wasn’t behind the glass, but instead was out here in the courtyard with Nicky. In this vision, there was snow on the ground, reflecting the moonlight and casting a purple glow over everything around.

  In this vision, her mother wasn’t sick. Her mother’s hair, skin, and teeth were all normal, and Nicky wanted to run up to her to get a better look. Outside of that horrible vision from the dream, Nicky had no recollection of her mother’s face, but now she could see it. Clear and beautiful and everything Nicky knew it would be. This woman was her real mother.

  But as Nicky approached, her mother held up her hand and shook her head.

  “What?” Nicky said. “Why can’t I come to you?”

  There was fear in her mother’s eyes. She looked back behind her. A stampede of shadowy figures.

  “Run, Nicky!” her mother yelled. “Run!”

  The shadows descended upon her mother, and Nicky recognized the sickness in all of them. The gray skin, the hunched backs, the gnarled claws—the people coming for her mother had the sickness.

  Nicky turned and ran, finding a dirt road leading into the forest. Behind her were sounds of chaos. Snarling, screaming, biting sounds, the noise of animals fighting to the death. Nicky didn’t turn back to look. She just ran. Into the forest. The snow crunching under her feet.

  I am running into the darkness, leaving the vision behind. Running...

  Her vision was broken when a light came on outside her prison cell. Her eyes, so used to the darkness, rejected the light and she had to cover them with her hands. The glass door slid open and two pairs of feet stepped inside. Nicky struggled to open her eyes. The first face she saw was familiar and unexpected.

  It was Renata Sullivan.

  *****

  Falkon let Renata go in first.

  “Yes, this is Nicky Bloom,” Renata said, rushing at the girl, who looked weak and disoriented. They had been feeding her, but it looked like she had chosen not to eat. Falkon c
ouldn’t say he blamed her. His slaves were never very good at cooking.

  Her hair was a tangle of knots. The only clothing she had on was a silk night gown. She looked like her body temperature had fallen dangerously low.

  But there was still life in her eyes. Whoever this girl was, she had some fight in her. Even in her weakened state, Falkon could sense her preparing for a faceoff. She sat up straight against the wall. She took control of her emotions. She looked at Renata with defiance in her eyes.

  There was something familiar about this girl.

  “Welcome, Nicky Bloom,” Renata said. “Do you know where you are?”

  The girl shook her head.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  The girl opened her mouth and in a raspy voice said, “It’s good to see you, Miss Sullivan. Have you come to get me out of here?”

  Hearing the girl’s voice only heightened Falkon’s sense that he’d met her before. But where?

  Renata laughed. “Oh, you’re a clever one, aren’t you, Nicky? You know, I’ve been curious about you since the moment you were admitted to Thorndike. It was an absolute shock that the admissions office selected someone I had never heard of before. I mean, I didn’t know you, I didn’t know your parents. Had I not been so busy, you and I would have met much sooner. I’m sorry it took this long!”

  “Am I in trouble, Miss Sullivan?”

  Her voice was stronger now, and Falkon was absolutely certain he had encountered this girl before. Her eyes, her face, her voice, even the way she carried herself—he knew her. But how? How would he ever have come to know a teenage girl from America?

  “Yes, Nicky Bloom,” Renata said. “You are in trouble. Let’s have a talk and we’ll find out just how much trouble you’re in.”

  For the next hour, Falkon watched as Renata interrogated the girl. It was the most curious interaction he had ever seen.

  For one thing, Renata did not have any control over the girl’s mind, even though she thought she did. Nicky Bloom was lying to her, and Renata was buying it whole. It was a pathetic display of weakness on Renata’s part, and an embarrassment to Falkon as a vampire. The way the Samarin vampires outsourced their mind control—allowing Melissa and Dominic to program all the slaves and ship them all over the country—it was and always had been an abomination, and the end result was playing out here in front of Falkon’s eyes. Renata was a rank amateur at mind control. She was missing all the big cues! Nicky’s eyes, her tone of voice, the movement of her hands—all of them were practically shouting to Falkon that she was lying, and Renata was missing it!