Duncan (35 page)

“Look, Dietrich. This
is
Tammy Dietrich, right?”

“Got it in one, sweetheart.”

“Well,
sweetheart
, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not leaving until—”

Dietrich laughed bitterly. “This is no game. Max doesn’t play games. He never did. He simply clears the board until he gets his way, and you, Duquet, are in his way.”

“Max Grafton? Your brother?”

“Half brother, but who’s counting. I don’t have time for this. I called to give you a warning and I’ve given it. I wanted to talk to you at Lacey’s service, but there were too many people around. So I’m telling you now. Your life is in danger, and dying won’t bring Lacey back. That’s it, Duquet. That’s all she wrote.”

“Wait! How do I get in touch with you?”

“You don’t. I told you, I’m taking my own advice. I’m going to dig a hole somewhere far away and crawl into it, and hope to hell Max never finds me. Good-bye, Ms. Duquet.”

“Wait!” Emma cried again, but Dietrich was gone. Emma gave a wordless shout of frustration and spun on the guard. “What’s your name?”

“Marlon.”

“How long ‘til sunset, Marlon?”

He glanced at his watch. “Two hours, give or take, probably less.”

Emma thought for less than a minute. Getting out of town wasn’t even a consideration, especially without Duncan. And she would bet a year’s salary that the vampire lord had absolutely no intention of leaving, not because of Max Grafton or anyone else. But as powerful as Duncan was, he bled and he could die.

“We’re leaving, Marlon. Duncan’s in danger.”

Marlon didn’t waste words. He grabbed her arm and hustled her out of the kitchen and through the living room, where the local TV news was covering a story about an explosion and fire somewhere in the District. They were calling it terrorism, which was the first thing everyone thought of these days, whether or not it was. Emma reached out as Marlon dragged her past, intending to turn off the TV, when she recognized . . .

“Marlon,” she said breathlessly.

Something in her voice stopped the hard charging guard. He turned to stare at the same horrifying image on the television screen that had caught her attention. It was Duncan’s house. And it was on fire.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Emma felt like she was dying. If she had gone directly to Duncan’s after leaving work, maybe she’d have been there in time to have stopped whatever this was. She needed to get to the house, needed to see for herself what was going on and how bad it was. Duncan and his vampires were all there, helpless in sleep. Was the house burning around them? Were they dying as she and Marlon raced through the D.C. streets? She didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it. Deep in her heart, she was sure she’d
know
if anything had happened to Duncan. He was too important, too
alive,
to die without causing even a ripple in reality, certainly in
Emma’s
reality. But what if he wasn’t dead, but badly injured? What would she do then? Every vampire she knew was with him. Whom could she call for help? When Baldwin was shot, it was Duncan who brought him back with his blood. But who would be there to bring Duncan back?

She gripped the padded handle of the door as Marlon sped down side streets to avoid traffic, taking every turn with a squeal of tires. Emma had the local news channel up on her cell phone, the same one they’d watched back at her house. The station was running a live feed from the scene, but it didn’t show her enough. She needed details, closeups. She screamed at the screen every time they broke away to the useless news anchors, who did nothing but repeat what she already knew. The authorities were on the scene and refused to speculate on the cause, but that didn’t stop information from leaking. This was Washington, after all. The leading theory was a gas explosion of some kind. But was it an accident or intentional? Speculation was running wild. All the embassies in the area had shut down tight.

There was no mention of anyone being hurt, but there wouldn’t be. Duncan and his vampires could all be dead and no one would know it until sunset. Emma swallowed hard, refusing to give in to the terror screaming at the back of her brain. She squinted at the tiny images on the video, comparing what she was seeing to what she knew of the house and its layout, trying to determine which part of the house was burning. A gas explosion could be anywhere, and the house was half-empty. But the images she saw were from the street, and the flames and destruction were very visible, which meant the front of the house was involved. And Duncan’s bedroom looked out over the green expanse of the front lawn. Emma turned the phone face down on her thigh and looked away. She couldn’t watch it anymore. She needed to see for herself.

She closed her eyes and half-listened to Marlon, who was on the phone, trying to reach his supervisor, the guy in charge of the daytime guards, but so far he’d had no luck. The guard commander was far too busy dealing with the emergency to worry about Marlon and Emma. But then she heard Marlon tell someone they were on their way back.

“She’s here with me. Yeah, five minutes tops.” He paused, then, “Why the fuck not?”

“What?” Emma demanded. “Put it on speaker,
damnit.”

Marlon gave her a harassed look, but said, “Wait. I’m going to speaker. It’s my boss,” he added for Emma’s sake.

“Ms. Duquet?” The voice that came out of the speaker was deep and controlled. The voice of authority.

“Call me Emma. What is it?”

“Well, Emma, the fire department wants to enter the residence, and I can’t permit that.”

“Wait. Say that again? Are you telling me no one’s fighting the fire?”

“No. They’re on the scene and they’ve got hoses going full-bore, but they want to get inside the house. Lord Duncan himself has given me very specific orders that no one, under any circumstances, is permitted inside the house during the day.”

Emma listened with half an ear, her brain racing. It had to be an embassy thing. Embassies were considered the foreign government’s sovereign territory and everyone treated the vampires’ residence like an embassy. She could see why there might be some confusion, but . . .

“Okay, I understand that,” she said out loud. “But this is an emergency. Surely—”

“No one, under any circumstances,” he repeated firmly. “Except you.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re the only one allowed inside during daylight. Even I’m not allowed to go in there.”

“Well, but that’s—”

“Standard procedure, ma’am. And the press is all over this. I’d rather not say more until we can speak in person.”

Emma looked up as they finally made the turn onto Duncan’s street and the house came into view. “Oh, shit,” she breathed. Then to the guard captain, “We’re coming up on the gate now, can you get us inside?”

“Definitely. But, Marlon, you’ll have to park outside.” His voice started jumping, as if he was running. “I’m on my way to the gate. I’ll meet you there.”

Marlon double-parked as close to the gate as he could get, then wrapped a meaty arm around her waist and all but carried her forward. He had to shove his way through the crowd, ignoring angry shouts and demands from uniformed police that they stop. The only thing that was going to stop them was a bullet, and no policeman would risk shooting them in this crowd. She hoped.

“There he is,” Marlon said, shouting to be heard above the noise of the crowd and the firefighting trucks and equipment ranged inside the estate walls. They might not be able to get inside the house, but they certainly weren’t giving up on fighting it from the outside.

A tall, exotic-looking black man waved at them as he stepped over to the policeman guarding the open gate and said a few words. The officer looked up, then lowered his head and triggered his shoulder radio. Almost instantly, a hole opened up in the throng to disgorge two burly cops who hustled Emma and Marlon past the wall.

“Ms. Duquet,” the black man said. “I’m Jackson Hissong, Lord Duncan’s Chief of Daylight Security.”

 “Call me Emma,” she reminded him, shaking his hand quickly. “What can I do?” She ran alongside Hissong as he spun and jogged over the lawn to the front of the house where some sort of command post had been set up.

“First, you need to back me up with the fire captain. They
cannot
go in that house.”

“Look, Jackson, this isn’t even a real embassy, and I’m not sure what the law says about a situation like this, even if it was.”

“But you’re a lawyer, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t have any authority to—”

“Good enough. You’re acting as Lord Duncan’s agent in this, and as the only individual authorized to enter the premises.”

“Then, maybe I should tell the fire department it’s okay for them to enter, so—”

“No,” Hissong said, stopping to regard her steadily. “You absolutely cannot do that.”

“But what if Duncan and the others are in there and they’re hurt?” Emma asked, anguished.

“Lord Duncan knows the risks better than you do, and I’ve trained with Miguel for ten years. This isn’t a matter of some lame protocol or diplomatic immunity. This is a vampire’s residence. I already have private fire contractors on their way, but in the meantime, if those guys—” He gestured at the firefighters all around them. “—break into that house, the vampires inside will be completely vulnerable. And what if that was the plan? Most of them are probably decent, courageous public servants doing a dangerous job. But what if just one of them isn’t who he seems to be? He goes in there, finds the vampires and—” He slapped his hands together, making Emma jump in surprise. “That fast, Emma. It’s all over. There’s a reason for these restrictions. Lord Duncan’s a smart man, and so’s Miguel. You have to trust them.”

“I do, but—”

“No buts, babe. You back me up, or you don’t talk to the fire captain at all. There’s no other option.”

Emma scowled. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack,” Hissong replied.

Emma looked away, staring at the house. The fire seemed to be under control, but what did she know about things like that? They were still spraying water, and men were still working all around the wreckage. Her heart stopped as she recognized what she was seeing. That was Duncan’s room. Or it had been. The explosion had gone off right beneath the room she and Duncan shared, blowing out windows and ripping out big chunks of the wall. She couldn’t see into the house, couldn’t tell if Duncan was there—the hole wasn’t that big and there was water spraying everywhere, and too much equipment in the way.

Tammy Dietrich’s warning that they were in danger came back to her. But she didn’t trust Dietrich. Maybe the phone call had been a ploy to get Emma back here in time to die in the explosion herself.

She looked at Jackson Hissong, his dark face glistening with dirt and sweat, hands on his hips as he studied her, waiting.

“Fine,” she said. “We’ll do it your way.”

Hissong nodded, as if there’d never been any other possibility. He took her upper arm, guiding her forward. “Watch your step,” he warned. “There’s a lot of crap on the ground.”

Emma realized for the first time that she was still wearing the three inch heels she’d worn to the office that morning. She hadn’t had time to change before racing out of her house to get back here. She sighed and was grateful for the support of Hissong’s hand on her arm.

“Captain Stavros,” Hissong called, his deep voice carrying despite the roar of sound all around them, not only from the equipment and the rush of water, but from the fire itself.

A tall man in yellow turnout gear finished his conversation with two other firefighters before favoring Hissong with a scowl which he quickly transferred to Emma.

“Captain, this is Emma Duquet, Lord Duncan’s attorney.”

Stavros’ eyes were weary as he looked her up and down, but that didn’t mask the clear fact that he was not impressed. Whether it was with her specifically, or lawyers in general, Emma didn’t know. Either way, it got her back up like nothing else would have. She might not agree with Hissong’s decision on this, but having met Captain Stavros, she would fight for it with her last breath.

“You’re the lawyer?” he said doubtfully.

“Yes, I am. Is there a problem?” she said coolly, deciding a head-on approach was the only kind that would work in this instance.

“Yeah, there’s a problem. We need to get inside this structure and your man here is stopping us. You’re lucky I haven’t had him arrested along with all—”

“Captain Stavros, you cannot have risen to the position you have in the District without being aware of the law regarding foreign embassies, which is that the embassy itself is, for all intents and purposes, the sovereign territory of the respective nation.”

“Of course, I’m aware of that,” he said testily. “But I’m not required to stand by and watch the damn building burn to the ground, putting other people and properties at risk. All I’m—”

“There is far more at risk here than property. This is the
vampire
embassy. There are a large number of vampires inside that house, and I’m certain every one of them is pissed as hell right now. You want your men to deal with that?”

“Hell, no, but that’s a risk we take, just like every other risk on this job. Besides,” he added, lowering his voice. “I thought vampires slept during the day.”

Emma gave him a small smile and lied through her teeth. “You’ve been watching the wrong movies, Captain. Look,” she continued in a conciliatory voice, “it rained last night, everything is wet, including the surrounding properties. On top of that, Mister Hissong’s men activated the automated sprinkler system and with the distance between houses, the chances of the fire spreading have got to be slim.”

“So, maybe I should instruct my
men to pull out and let the damn house burn,” Stavros replied, clearly not feeling in a conciliatory mood.

“And that is certainly your prerogative. I understand we already have private contractors en route to continue fighting the blaze.”

“Son of a—” Stavros glared at her. Anyone who worked or lived in the District, especially in an official capacity, knew the minefields associated with the various embassies and their personnel. And regardless of her jab at the fire captain earlier, she knew he had to have successfully negotiated more than one such encounter in the past in order to rise as high in the department as he had.