Dark Peril Page 0,160

at her disposal. Long ago, she'd learned that her intellect and her ability to stay calm were her two most powerful weapons. In this situation, she was certain a gun, knife and definitely her crossbow would be more helpful.

She made a move as if to run, but her feet refused to move. "What do you want?"

"Are you having trouble running?" Henric taunted. Deliberately he allowed his civilized mask to slip, showing her the skin stretched taut over his skull, his bloodred, glowing eyes and his dark, bloodstained teeth revealed by a parody of a smile.

"Help!" Solange twisted and turned frantically. "Someone please help."

"No one is coming to help you." Henric took a step toward her and watched as tears swam in her eyes. "No one is going to come. No one can save you."

"What are you?" Deliberately she recoiled, wringing her hands together.

Henric shuffled a few steps closer, drawing out her fear, feeding on it. He looked down at his hand. His fingernails lengthened into long, razor-sharp talons. Smiling, he looked back up at her.

Solange held her crossbow and now she was smiling. Now, Dominic. "Then I guess I'd better save myself," she said aloud as she shot the arrow.

Henric tried to dissolve, but she was close, almost too close. The arrow shot him through the heart and nearly pushed out the back when it ignited. Henric, half substance and half mist, shrieked and howled. He spat curses at her as he tried to dislodge the arrow burning white-hot from his back to his heart. The arrow had gone through the center of the withered heart, impaling the organ and holding it to form. Solange calmly fit another arrow into her crossbow and shot him a second time, watching with cool detachment as he burned to ash. She took a breath and let it out.

They're dead, Dominic. Where do you want me?

No injuries? Not even a scratch from running through the forest?

She heard the concern in his voice and carefully inspected her body to ensure she had no cuts or scratches. I'm good.

Make your way back to your original position. I will get things going here. Everything is in place. When all hell breaks loose, these are the leaders I want you to try to take out.

Solange studied the images in his mind. She recognized Giles and his lesser vampires. Dominic had paid attention to four others. One looked older, unusual for a vampire to make that choice, a distinguished, silverhaired man wearing, of all things, a business suit.

He goes by the name Carlo. He has been living in Sicily so long he thinks he is part of the Mob.

She could see that. He certainly looked intimidating. The second man was slender with the cold, flat eyes of a killer. He wore casual clothes and he made her shiver for no reason at all. His hair was longer and drawn back in the usual Carpathian style. His jaw was pronounced and he idly swung a chain. He stood a distance from the others, and his gaze was watchful.

Akos. He used to travel with a falcon. I would not be surprised if he uses a harpy eagle to watch the skies, Dominic warned. Wherever he goes, there is a bloodbath.

Great. He and Brodrick are probably friends.

Men like Brodrick and Akos have no friends, only those they use as pawns. Do not underestimate him. If you have the shot, take it when the frenzy starts.

Solange was a little uneasy with the word frenzy. What are you going to do?

Turn them on one another. As soon as Josef gives me the word that the virus has had a chance to work through the computers and destroy the data and spread into the network, I will destroy the laboratory as well.

"He's going to turn them on one another," she muttered aloud. She had a picture of vampires devouring one another in her head.

She climbed back up the tree and found her favorite resting place. Two boughs made a nice little cradle for her to stretch out in, her weapons close. Her favorite sniper rifle lay waiting, and she checked it out of habit. No one had disturbed her blind, but she cast around for tracks, always careful of the jaguar-men.

I'm in position. She used the scope to take a better look at her targets.

The third image he sent her was of a short, stocky man who could easily have passed for a jaguar male. He had thick, ropy muscles on the frame of a