Night Reigns by Dianne Duvall Page B

that?” He straightened as much as he could, placing a hand on his churning stomach.
    Dennis shrugged as though Montrose had just asked him why he had rented a particular movie. His face, chin, neck, and chest were covered in crimson. “He was distracting you. It annoyed me.”
    Montrose’s mouth fell open, and some of the fear racing through his veins converted to anger. “He annoyed you?”
    “Perhaps now that he’s gone you’ll have less trouble focusing.” Dennis seemed so calm now, his eyes no longer luminescent.
    “He was helping me!” Montrose blurted out incredulously. “Helping us! I couldn’t have gotten this far in our little experiment if he hadn’t been here! What the hell am I supposed to do now?” He was yelling by the time he finished and later would wonder where he had found the balls to do so. Dennis’s brain was clearly surrendering to the virus, his impulse control deteriorating to near nonexistence. And his mood swings ...
    Well, they were off the chart.
    Again, Dennis shrugged. “Find some other geek to help you.”
    Montrose started to remind him just how long it had taken him to find someone he could trust not to call the men in white coats when asked for aid in capturing an immortal creature for a vampire king. But Dennis drew close, his fetid breath deepening Montrose’s nausea.
    “Get it done, Montrose. You’re out of time.”
    “W-W-What do you mean?”
    “We found Roland.”
    Excitement skittered through him. “You did? You found him?” Roland Warbrook. One of the Immortal Guardians who had killed Casey. And someone who could tell them where to find Bastien the Deceiver. “Where is he? When can I see him?” Interrogate him? Torture him? Destroy him?
    “When you finish what you started,” Dennis gritted out,
    “and help us catch him. He killed thirty-four of my men tonight. He and his human bitch.”
    Montrose eyed him in disbelief. “Thirty-four? That’s impossible. He must have transformed her.”
    “He didn’t.”
    “How do you know? Were you there?”
    Dennis’s eyes flashed dangerously. “No. Toby texted me, told me they were getting their asses kicked by an Immortal Guardian and some woman and asked me what they should do.”
    “What did you tell him?”
    “That if he tucked his tail between his legs and ran I would make an example of him as I did Eddie.”
    Inwardly, Montrose grimaced. He had heard about that. The vamps had gained three new soldiers that night.
    “None of my men survived.”
    Two triumphing over thirty-four. And Toby claimed one of them had been mortal.
    Montrose’s mind raced. He had to get his hands on one of those Immortal Guardians.
    Dennis backed away, no longer bent on intimidating him. “Scott,” he said calmly and motioned to the silent vampire,
    “come forward.”
    Leaving the shadows, the young vampire crossed to Dennis’s side with obvious reluctance.
    Dennis wrapped an arm around his shoulders, his eyes still on Montrose. “Have you enjoyed helping Dr. Keegan?”
    “Yes, sir.” Scott had once confessed to Montrose that he far preferred being a lab rat to preying on humans or tricking drunken frat boys into joining their army. Montrose had always considered him a rare, top-quality vampire. He wasn’t high on power. He didn’t get off on terrifying and bullying powerless humans. He was a good guy.
    Montrose hoped Dennis didn’t intend to return him to the hunt now.
    Dennis ruffled Scott’s hair the way Montrose used to ruffle Casey’s, then smiled at Montrose, yanked the kid’s head to the side, and sank his fangs into his throat.
    Scott gritted his teeth, the cords in his neck standing out as his arms flailed. One caught and clenched in Dennis’s coat. The other swept papers from the table nearest them.
    Montrose met Dennis’s eyes. Those taunting eyes. “W-What are you ... ?”
    The younger vamp’s struggles continued, punctuated with grunts and gasps. Had Scott been human, the chemical produced by the glands