He pulled free of the good-natured hands that grabbed at his arms and spun, disorientated. He tried to make his way toward the band, but a pretty redheaded woman blocked his path, smiling seductively at him, the tips of her incisors sharp and gleaming beneath the fractured light of the enormous crystal chandelier that hung above them. He turned about and struck out in the opposite direction but had no more success. A ring of men and women rotated in a frenzied circle of kicking feet and flailing arms, their momentum spinning him like a top. As a young man swung past him, his long blond hair flying out behind him, Carpenter saw the red glow beneath the material of his feline mask, and his skin ran cold. He turned and almost ran into the wide chest of an elderly man, who was dancing with great enthusiasm with a girl young enough to be his granddaughter. The man turned and snarled at him, his white mask glowing red, two pointed teeth appearing beneath his upper lip.

Oh God, there are hundreds of them. What have I done?

He reached into his pocket and pulled the stake free, but a girl wearing a diamond tiara above a Japanese kabuki mask thumped into him, and the weapon clattered to the floor. He swore beneath his breath and stooped to look for it, but a dozen feet kicked it beyond his reach. Carpenter stood up and a wave of terror so strong it was almost physical flooded through him.

Standing before him was a luminously elegant man. He wore no mask, and his face, the features hinting at an eastern European ancestry, was so pale it was almost transparent, the veins tracing a faint pattern of blue across the milky flesh. Around them the dancing seemed to have intensified, if that were possible, yet no one collided with the man, or even appeared to come close to doing so. It was as though he were surrounded by a magnetic field that repelled the revelers.

It is him. Dear God, it really is. The youngest of the three.

Valentin Rusmanov regarded Carpenter with a look that made him feel like a specimen in a laboratory. The man’s eyes were the same pale blue as the veins beneath his skin and had a hypnotic quality; he felt himself sinking into them and struggled to pull his gaze away. He was about to say something, although he had no idea what it was going to be, when thundering peals of bells began to count the chimes of midnight.

Everything stopped. The chimes rang on, three, four, five, but they were now the only sound in the room. The dancing had ceased, as had all conversation. Carpenter looked around, sure what he would see, but fear still flooded his system when he saw that he was right.

Everyone in the room was staring silently at him.

The final chime rang out, echoing in the quiet air, and from the back of the room a voice shouted, “Unmask!” There was a second of hesitation, then Valentin nodded, and there was a frenzy of movement as the guests removed their masks, a red glow filling the room as they did so. Carpenter looked around helplessly as the hundreds of men and women turned back to face him.

He was surrounded by vampires.

They regarded him with smiles on their faces, their fangs now fully extended, their eyes gleaming terrible crimson.

This is how it ends. Torn to pieces on my first mission. My father would be ashamed.

23

ROUND TWO

Jamie marched along the cellblock corridor, Frankenstein following a couple of steps behind. Jamie had refused to go to the infirmary and have his neck properly dressed, had not even changed his acrid-smelling uniform. Several Blacklight operators had stared at the white wad of bandages as he stormed through the hangar, the huge colonel following in his wake.

Jamie stopped in front of Larissa’s cell, the UV wall shimmering in front of him. She was lying on her bed, her eyes already fixed on him, as though she had been expecting him to arrive. Then Jamie realized that she had probably heard him from the first moment he entered the block; he found it strangely easy to forget that she was a vampire.

She smiled at him, and then the smile died on her lips as Frankenstein stepped into her field of vision and stood next to Jamie. She had a book splayed over her lap, and she immediately brought it up to her face, obscuring it from their view.

“I need to talk to you,” said Jamie.

The book didn’t move.

“Did you hear me?” he asked, anger rising in his voice. “I said I need to talk to you.”

“I heard you,” said Larissa, from behind the book. “And there’s nothing I’d like more in the world than to talk to you back. But I don’t do threesomes.”

Frankenstein muttered something under his breath.

“Nothing personal,” said Larissa.

Jamie looked at the monster, ready to plead with him to leave them alone, but Frankenstein was already turning away from him.

“Thank you,” he shouted, as the huge man’s footsteps thumped away along the corridor. When the door at the end of the block clanged shut, Larissa put the book down, jumped off the bed, and walked over to him, a wide smile on her face.

“I knew you would be back,” she said.

“This isn’t a social visit,” Jamie said, sharply.

Her eyes dropped from his as he spoke, and then widened as she observed the bandage over the right side of his neck. “What happened to you?” she asked. “Don’t tell me someone bit you?”

The concern in her voice made Jamie’s heart flutter. “Nothing like that,” he replied. “I got burned. On a mission.”

“A mission!” she exclaimed. “Was it a super secret one? I bet it was. Ooh, tell me all about it!”

Jamie blushed a deep scarlet, and Larissa laughed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You just looked so serious with your bandaged neck and your dirty uniform. Did you come down here to tell me off?”

“I came down here to ask you about Alexandru,” he said. “I came down here because I thought you might be the one person willing to help me.”

Larissa tilted her head to one side and fluttered her eyelashes.

“That’s so sweet,” she said, choking back fake emotion. “Am I your only hope?”

Jamie turned away from her and strode up the corridor, forcing himself to slow his pace, determined that he would not run away.

“Wait,” she called, and he stopped. “Please. Come back. I was only playing.”

He stood in the corridor, between two empty cells, breathing hard. It was embarrassment that had caused him to run, embarrassment that she was not taking him seriously. And although he couldn’t have explained why, it was imperative to him that she do so. He composed himself and walked slowly back to her cell.

She smiled as he reappeared, but he saw the last flicker of genuine concern on her face, and he was glad.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I haven’t spoken to anyone for two days. The guards don’t even look at me.”

Then they’re idiots, Jamie thought, and blushed.

Larissa sat down cross-legged on the floor of her cell, and waited for him to do the same. He folded himself crouching to the ground, carefully, moving his neck as little as was possible, and then they were facing each other, no more than three feet apart, the UV field flickering between them.

“Will you tell me where Alexandru is?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know. Honestly.”

“Will you tell me where the last place you saw him was?”

She shook her head again, causing a lock of dark hair to fall across her forehead. Jamie tried not to look at it; the urge to brush it away was overwhelming.

“Why not?”

“Because if I tell you, I’ll never leave this cell again.”

“I can talk to them—”

“It won’t work. I’ll take you there, but I won’t tell you. I hope you can understand the difference.”

Jamie lowered his head. He knew she was right. If she admitted to not knowing anything, Seward would have her destroyed; if she told him what she did know, Seward would have her destroyed. Her only chance was to admit she had information, refuse to reveal it, and hope they became desperate enough to play the game on her terms.