Hunting Daylight (9781101619032) (47 page)

It’s all my fault
, she thought.

The metal door buzzed open. Vivi pretended to sleep, but she watched the door through a crack in her eyelashes. Dr. Hazan walked in, his lab coat giving off the smells of disinfectant and fruit.

“Vivienne, time to wake up,” he said, tugging at her arms. “It’s morning. Mr. Al-Dîn is coming to see you.”

She pretended to snore. Whoever Al-Dîn was, he could wait. The shithead.

“Up, up, up,” Dr. Hazan said, forcing her into a sitting position. She held her breath, squeezed her tummy, and wrinkled her forehead. Oh, she wanted to make Dr. Hazan go away.

Dr. Hazan, let me out of this place!

He kept gripping her shoulders. She glanced furtively at him. No blood. Not even a broken blood vessel in his eye.

“The diazepam should have worn off by now,” he said. “If you don’t cooperate, I will give you another injection.”

“No more shots. Jeez, I’m awake. Barely.” Vivi rustled up a fake yawn.

Dr. Hazan melted against the wall when the door buzzed open again. An old, baldheaded man shuffled into the room, gripping a metal walker, his leg wobbling violently. He wore a long purple robe, and his right-hand pocket hung low, the fabric bulging and twitching, like a cat was trapped inside. On his feet were leather slippers, the toes curled up like a jester’s hat. An IV tube snaked from his arm up to a clear plastic bag, and the bag hung from a tall pole. The mustached man she’d bitten stood beside the pole. He moved it forward each time the old geezer took a step.

“Fadime?” the geezer said. “Help me sit in that chair.” He spoke in heavily accented English, adding a
d
to “that.”

“Yes, sir,” Fadime said. He let go of the pole and took the geezer’s arm. Dr. Hazan moved away from the wall, pulled the chair close to Vivi’s bed, then hurried out of the room.

It took an eternity for the old man to get settled. His eyes were reddish gold, and his lashes were so dark and thick that for a second Vivi thought he was wearing makeup, but he wasn’t. That was a relief.

As he got nearer, Vivi saw that he wasn’t old. No wrinkles. No jowls. No liver spots. But he’d been in a bad fight. Bruises and purple splotches covered the backs of his hands, and more ugly marks ran under the sleeve of his robe.

“Who are you?” she asked, trying to sound braver than she felt.

“Mr. Al-Dîn,” he said. “My friends call me Mustafa. Welcome to my compound.”

You’re not my friend
, she thought. “Am I in Africa?”

“Sutherland. Near Cape Town.” Perspiration was beaded on his head. Someone was in charge of that, too, a man with long blond hair that hung down like a broom. He swept a white cloth over the geezer’s face.

Vivi tilted her head. “Are you a vampire, Mustafa?”

“Yes.”

Just as Vivi had suspected. And he could call this building a compound, but it was really a giant coffin. She scooted away from him. “Are you gonna hurt me?”

“No, no, no. Not me.”

He was lying. Why else had he stolen her from Sabine and Lena? Why had those men kidnapped her? Where was her mom?

At the thought of her mom and Raphael, pain twisted through her belly, and she wrapped her hands around her waist. She felt a tear slide down the side of her nose.

“Do you have a question?” Mustafa asked, lifting his hand. His fingernails were clipped short, ridged like seashells.

She wiped her mouth. She had so many questions, she didn’t know where to begin. “How long have I been here?”

“Not long.” Mustafa leaned closer, studying her face. “How did you get that bruise on your cheek?”

Vivi swallowed. “A blond lady hit me.”

A muscle worked in Mustafa’s jaw. “Was her name Tatiana?”

Vivi shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Mustafa turned to Fadime. “Where is she now?”

“In her quarters, sir.”

“Detain her.”

“Yes, sir.” Fadime bowed, then went out of the room, leaving the door open. The big, blond-haired man went out and began pacing in the hall.

Vivi rubbed her eyes. “Why did you kidnap me?”

“A long story.” Mustafa tilted his head. “First, I have questions. When my people arrived in Provence, the woman who was keeping you had some type of power. She killed my men.”

“What men?” Vivi asked, keeping her face slack.

“Who was this doctor you were staying with?” Mustafa persisted.

“I don’t remember.”

“You are a poor liar.”

“Dr. Hazan gave me a shot, and now my brains are fried.”

“I am sorry,” Mustafa said.

“Why is this place underground?”

“Because I paid the architect to build it this way. It took four years. Lots of bribes.”

He spoke slowly and clearly, but she was distracted by the way he shaved the letters off the front of some words, anything with a “
th
” sound.
This
sounded like
dis
, and
the
sounded like
de
.

“Do you know why the S.A.L.T. telescope was built in Sutherland?” he asked.

Vivi shook her head. “What does salt have to do with a telescope?”

“S.A.L.T. is an acronym for South African Large Telescope.” Mustafa smiled. “Sutherland has the darkest night
sky in the world. We have a little telescope upstairs. Maybe if you are good, I will let you see it.”

His pocket was still twisting and writhing. He cupped his palm over the bulge, and the fabric went still. “Oh, Bram. You are tickling me,” he said.

Vivi saw an infinity tattoo on his wrist. It was just like Dr. Hazan’s, with a green snake looping through the curves.

Mustafa opened his pocket, and a furry head popped up. The animal was sable, with a long torso, a pink nose, and two shiny eyes, each one circled by a white bandit’s mask. He wore a tiny diamond harness.

“What’s that?” Vivi asked.

“My ferret,” Mustafa said. “His name is Bram. He wants to know if you have any questions.”

“You can read his mind?”

“No.” Mustafa grinned at the ferret. “But I like to pretend. Don’t we, Bram?”

“Can you read minds?” she asked.

“No. I don’t need to. I am smarter than everyone in this building.”

Vivi didn’t believe him for a second.
Asshole
, she thought, then watched his face. His expression didn’t change. She swallowed. “Why is everything red?”

“You are speaking of the light?” Mustafa asked. “An illness has made my eyes sensitive. Even the faint glow of moonlight causes my skin to burn and my vision to falter.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Vivi asked.

“I caught a disease in Africa. A long time ago.”

“I thought vampires didn’t get sick.”

“Some of us are susceptible to the hemorrhagic fevers. I was infected with Marburg Virus. It is similar to Ebola, which I’m sure you’ve heard of. Do not be scared. I recovered from the virus. But it left me with a hematological disorder. A stem cell leukemia. The doctors say I will be dead soon.”

“I’m sorry,” Vivi said, her voice cracking. “But I want to go home. My mom is probably freaking out.”

“Mothers are like that.” Mustafa rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Always worrying.”

“When can I leave?”

Mustafa’s forehead wrinkled. “Leave? But you just arrived.”

“My mom is a very nervous person. And she has powerful friends.”

“I am more powerful. I get what I want. And I want to keep you.” He patted Bram.

Vivi brushed tears off her face. “You don’t want me. I’m a brat. Nothing but trouble.”

“A prophecy says you will bring the vampire race into the light.”

Holy shit. He was one of those freaks. “You’ve got the wrong person. I’m not mixed up in that damn prophecy. I can’t read minds. I can’t do anything.”

“Your modesty is charming.” He smiled. “My scientist will be here in a moment. He will help you understand why I brought you here.”

Bram crawled inside the cuff of Mustafa’s sleeve. A bulge appeared in the purple silk, then moved toward the old man’s shoulder. A pink nose appeared and sniffed the air.
Bram slid out of the robe and curled up beside Mustafa’s neck.

The door buzzed. A man in a wheelchair rolled into the room, his arms corded with muscles. His legs were tiny, no bigger than baseball bats, and two bony knees jutted up beneath his blue scrub pants. His eyes were four shades darker than the scrubs. A dark brown ponytail fanned over his left shoulder. His chin had a cleft, and dark stubble ran down his neck. Two armed guards pushed in behind the wheelchair.

Mustafa’s gaze roved from the ponytailed man to Vivi. The man in the wheelchair looked at Vivi, then stared at Mustafa.

“Why am I here?” he asked.

“I want you to explain to this girl how a quarter vampire’s blood will allow me to walk in daylight.”

The man turned to Vivi. He stared without blinking, his chest rising and falling, a vein pulsing in his neck. He swallowed, then pursed his lips.

What a loser
, she thought. Whatever he had to say, she didn’t want to hear it.

Mustafa smiled. “Yes, it’s her,” he said. “Ignore her hair coloring. Look at her eyes. They tell the true story.”

“What story?” Vivi said. “You people are nuts.”

The man in the wheelchair kept staring at her, his eyes filling. He put his hand over his face and shook his head.

“What’s your problem?” Vivi said.

The man lowered his hands, tears spangled in his lashes, his chest sawing up and down. “Meep?” he said. “Is that you?”

PATIENT CONTAINMENT AREA—LEVEL 2

AL-DÎN COMPOUND

SUTHERLAND, SOUTH AFRICA

Jude pushed his wheelchair toward the girl’s bed, his heart thudding. Was she really Meep? After all this time? “Vivi?” he said, then wiped his face.

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve never seen you in my life.”

“You know him, Vivienne,” Mustafa said. “You do not remember.”

Jude couldn’t stop staring. Her eyes were blue, with brown chips in her left iris. He should have recognized her right away, but the hair had confused him. It jutted up in short, auburn tufts. None of the Barretts were redheads, and Caro’s family had been blonds. But now that he was closer, he realized the color had come from a bottle. A home dye job. A disguise, most likely, one that hadn’t worked.

“Quit looking at me like that,” Vivi said. “It’s rude.”

“I’m sorry,” Jude whispered, his gaze circling her face. How long had Mustafa’s brutes been chasing her? What about Caro?
She would have fought Mustafa’s men, and they would have killed her. Unless…had they brought her here, too?

Jude’s stomach pitched. He breathed through his mouth, trying to steady himself.

“Try to relax, Dr. Barrett,” Mustafa said. “You’ve wanted to see your daughter. Here she is.”

Jude darted another glance at Vivi. Her cheekbone was bruised. Blood rushed into his head, spilling heat behind his eyes. He turned to Mustafa. “Who hurt my daughter?”

The Turk’s smile faltered. “Dr. Hazan says it was a minor contusion.”

Hold it together, Barrett.
He faced Vivi. She was perched on the edge of her cot, staring at the floor as if it were a minefield.

“Vivi, I know you must be in shock,” he said. “I am, too.”

She looked up. “Mister, I don’t know who you are, but I’m
not
your daughter.”

Jude angled back to Mustafa. “May I have a few minutes alone with her?”

“No, Mustafa,” Vivi shouted. “Don’t leave me with him.”

Jude drew in a breath. So this was the plan, to turn him into the enemy.

“You do not want to be with your father?” Mustafa asked.

“My dad got lost in a jungle.” She glared scornfully at Jude. “I don’t know this guy.”

Mustafa ran his finger down Bram’s fur. “All right, Dr. Barrett. You have ten minutes.”

“Please, sir,” Jude said, hating the groveling sound that crept into his voice. “Can’t we have more time? I haven’t seen her since she was three.”

Mustafa lifted the ferret. “What should we do, Bram?”

The ferret wrinkled his nose. “Gabir?” Mustafa called over his shoulder. The man with broom-like hair appeared in the doorway. “Give the Barretts ten minutes.”

Bloody wanker
, Jude thought. How could ten years be explained in ten minutes? Mustafa was playing with his captives, throwing them together, waiting for them to clash.

A smug look came over Mustafa’s face. “Vivienne, at eighteen hundred hours you will join me in the banquet hall. I will send escorts. Do not be late.”

Vivi pointed at Jude. “Will he be there?”

“Did you hear me invite him?” Mustafa said. “I think not.”

“What are you gonna do at this banquet?” Vivi’s eyes narrowed. “Eat me?”

“Not tonight.” Mustafa winked.

After he left the room, Jude glanced up at the surveillance camera. He had to get closer to Vivi so their voices wouldn’t be picked up. He wheeled toward her, moving in at an angle.

She scooted away from him, moving to the opposite side of her bed, and pushed her shoulders against the wall.

“It’s okay, Meep,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Who are you?” Vivi asked. “What’s your name?”