whether she would sell information only or follow Simmons’s idea and capture a few talents. If she had live samples, it would be easier to convince the buyer that she could deliver what she promised.
Simmons had been an idiot for keeping the information from her and not taking her along on the mission. She could have saved him the trouble and compelled the talents to come out without a fight. All she needed was to get in hearing distance of them. Hell, she could compel them to accompany her on a field trip, straight into the arms of the Chinese program.
At the thought, a vague memory tried to push itself into her conscious mind, something about a potential snag in her plan. But the threads were too elusive, and after a few moments of intense concentration, Eleanor gave up. She needed a clear mind for that, and right now she was running on adrenaline fumes. Perhaps it would be better to take a nap and wake up refreshed.
Except, she had too many things to plan.
Before going to snoop around the mansion, she needed to find a place to stay and a car. Rentals were problematic because they were too easy to trace, but until she found a car to buy for cash, she could use an Uber. A new burner phone and one of her fake identities would be good enough for making her Uber trips anonymous.
But if she wanted to capture several paranormals, she couldn’t do that using an Uber or a Lyft. She needed her own car, maybe even a van.
But that was for later. First, she was going to do some reconnaissance. If what Simmons and Roberts had suspected was true, she would move to stage two and get the supplies needed for transporting her victims. If she couldn’t deliver them straight to the Chinese, she would need tranquilizers and handcuffs for when she had to leave them alone in the house.
As she’d found out in the program, some people reacted to compulsion like others did to alcohol. They shook it off quickly and required another dose. If she could find a house with a basement, that would be great. She could lock them up in there while she negotiated with the buyers.
With her plan solidifying, Eleanor couldn’t wait to go snooping. Nothing too ambitious, just drive by the mansion to assess the location and check for exterior surveillance cameras. The easiest way to do that was to rent a car at the airport and make a circuit or two. Later, she could return it and take a taxi to a hotel in town.
After a proper night of sleep, she would check the Airbnb listings for houses that suited her particular needs.
Closing her eyes, she tried to doze off, but the thoughts swirling in her head kept her awake.
“Would you like something to drink?” asked the flight attendant.
“Coffee, please.”
If she couldn’t sleep anyway, she might as well start her house hunting on the plane.
The guy sitting next to her ordered a drink, and five minutes later started snoring.
She patted his arm. “Please stop that.”
He cracked one eye open. “Stop what?”
“Don’t snore,” she said, imbuing her voice with compulsion. “Go back to sleep, but no snoring.”
Up until now, she’d never tried to compel someone to stop doing something that was not under their control, but it had worked, and the guy went back to sleep sans the snoring.
Fascinating. Evidently, compulsion worked on the subconscious mind as well as it did on the conscious one.
An hour later, Eleanor had a house secured in San Mateo, only fifteen minutes away from the mansion. The place was a dump, but it had one feature that made it perfect. The house used to be a restaurant, and it had a spacious walk-in fridge that locked from the outside. The cooling didn’t work, and the only reason the fridge appeared on the listing was because of a disclaimer that guests were responsible for their own safety.
48
Vlad
“What would you like for lunch?” Wendy sat next to Richard on the couch.
“Nothing.”
That was atypical. The guy was always happy to eat. Perhaps he was transitioning?
Vlad walked over to him. “You are always hungry. Are you feeling sick?”
Richard shook his head. “I’m depressed. Nothing is happening even with Kian’s venom. I have to accept that I’m not a Dormant, and that I’m not going to live forever, and it’s damn depressing.”
“Don’t give up yet,” Wendy said. “I didn’t transition overnight either. It takes time for the venom