CHAPTER THREE: INVISIBLE MAN

Vampires, Harry thought. They’re going after something to do with Vampires. I can’t believe these men got so rich when they are so stupid.

She pushed back in her chair from her work station in the Eyrie.  Her eyes flickered from the four screens that were before her showing the interior of Jason Meeks’ sanctum sanctorum to the other screens on her right and left. These showed the security cameras in and around the Eyrie itself. 

The Eyrie was in the slums of Frostholm City in a neighborhood called Three Points. It was a faded Beaux Arts building with ornate balustrades, statues of weeping women embedded in the facade, and ornate corinthian columns by the entrance, which had stood for nearly eighty years. It had gone to seed during those later years, taken over by drug addicts, the homeless and the mentally ill as poverty ravaged the population.  Even now, there were broken windows, crumbling white masonry, and empty, dusty floors. It was a ruin of beauty in a city mostly devoid of it. At least, the bottom three floors of the Eyrie were like that. No one seemed to realize though that the top three floors were inaccessible. 

At least to the public.

And they were quite different from the ones below.

The feeds showed Jennie-O, a member of the unhoused of Frostholm, dressed way too warm for the weather with countless pants, dresses, sweaters and jackets all layered on top of each other pushing a shopping cart slowly down the street to the south of the Eyrie. She was mumbling to herself. Harry wondered if she’d eaten anything that day.  Despite many offering to buy her food or give her money, she was fearful that it was poisoned and so drank mostly alcohol instead. It was clean, she said. The only thing she could be sure was clean, when it was most certainly not.

There was a group of four teenagers–Denny Carter, Jaylon Walker, Ryan Sloan and Decater Walsh–walking and talking too fast past the front of the Eyrie’s old busted front doors framed by those lovely columns.  All four boys were mid-way through high school. Amaya was certain that Jaylon would head to a four-year university while the others would go to various apprenticeships. This was an unheard-of success story in Three Points. Education was a way out and the boys were taking it.

Old Mrs. Deon was, once again, tottering up the front steps of the building opposite the Eyrie with her groceries.  She could afford those groceries now because of Nick, but she seemed intent on going shopping herself despite a service willing to do it for her. Harry tensed as the elderly woman nearly tottered backwards on the steep steps, but there were Denny and Jaylon streaking across the street to help her. She smiled with relief as the four boys took the groceries from Mrs. Deon, laughing and talking with her, as they helped her inside her building. 

The outside sorted, Harry checked the inside feeds. She saw the gaggle of stray cats that lived in the Eyrie chasing rats twice their size down the basement steps. She smiled at Mouser–the largest gray tom cat–as he leaped and tackled one of the beasts only to sigh as she realized that Lawrence Pugh had taken up residence in their basement again too. Hadn’t Nick gotten him into that program for substance abuse just last week?  But there he was, curled at the bottom of the basement steps smoking something he shouldn’t. Money couldn’t fix everything. In fact, many things in Three Points were immune to fixing.  

The rest of the interior cameras showed empty spaces except for dust. Even the crown molding had been ripped off the walls and the doors had disappeared long ago. 

She was tempted to scroll through the other cameras that were hidden throughout a five-block radius in all directions just to make sure that there was no one there that shouldn’t be. After that, she could tap into public and private cameras as Three Points gave way to slightly less downtrodden areas. But she didn’t. Her fingers curled against her palm and she forced herself to look back at the four feeds in front of her. 

It was daylight.

They were on a job.

Nick needed her focused.

Still, she felt a slick of cold sweat form on her upper lip. She wiped it away. But she caught sight of her chewed down fingernails and the chipped pink paint.  She grimaced. A bad habit that she’d been trying to shake, but the anxiety just wouldn’t let her go.

It’s daylight, she reminded herself. Besides, what would Vampires want from here? 

Except the answer to that was rather clear. For what the residents of Three Points might not realize–but perhaps the Vampires would–was that the Eyrie existed at all. A high-tech, lux palace in the middle of desolation. The windows blacked out, appearing broken. No lights shining. No signs of life. But inside that was not the case at all.

She had her nest of computers that cost the earth. Tristan’s rooms were heaped high with designer clothes, homemade Italian leather shoes, and high-end watches as if he needed them to breathe. 

Amaya’s room was all white and minimalist. Other than a futon, she had no other furniture. She wanted nothing to distract from the paintings that she hung on the walls with exquisite care. While they sold much of the old masterworks that they stole, Nick gave Amaya some to keep. She would occasionally switch them out, letting Nick sell the old ones on the black market to make room for new ones. More than a few found their ways onto the walls of the hallways, too. The Eyrie held a museum’s worth of fine art.

Nick’s private rooms encompassed the whole of the highest floor.  There were minimal walls up there except for privacy for a bathroom that spanned a quarter of the space and the luxury closet.  Video screens covered the outer walls and reflected whatever mood he was in from a sunset in Paris to the nightscape of New York to the winter swept wastes of the arctic.  

Like Tristan, Nick adored well-made clothes, shoes and accessories. But his were all bespoke. Everything was tailored for him in fabrics that he found all over the globe and brought back for Celia Wu to sew into gorgeous three-piece suits. Paolo Verde made his shoes, dying the leather of some to match the exquisite fabrics while others were in dusky blacks and caramel browns.  

Though she had urged Nick to steal some of the high end watches at Meeks’ party, the truth was that he could have sold just a few of his own pieces for the same price and none of the bother. Not to mention the delicate cufflinks, tie pins and pocket watches he had that would make most collectors drool. 

Money was not a problem for them. In truth, they had more than enough for themselves. Maybe not enough to help everyone in Three Points, but almost.  There wasn’t a good person that Nick hadn’t helped–though few outside their crew knew about it was him–with groceries, rent, schooling and more. Did they have as much as Meeks and his friends? No, but no one needed that.  Well… not for themselves anyways.  And Three Points had stubbornly shown them time and time again that money couldn’t solve everything… though it could solve a lot.

So Harry knew that no matter what Nick claimed, he wasn’t in Jason Meeks’ place because of the breathless sum of money that Meeks had offered in the encrypted message he'd sent to the television repair website that was a drop point for their services. Or, at least, he wasn’t there just for that. Or even mainly for that.

No, Nick was always chasing something. Secrets. Hidden things. Forbidden knowledge. No lock would keep him out. No puzzle was too hard to stump him forever. He would get through. He would find out. He would know it all. 

And when she’d thought that there were just humans to deal with, she’d been right by his side for it. Wanting to dig deeper, look harder, open every door, and just dive in. But then the Vampires revealed themselves and she had realized they’d been damned lucky that one of those doors she’d been so proud to help open hadn’t revealed beings with flashing silver eyes and sharp, white smiles. If they had stolen from even one Vampire, Nick’s life could have been forfeit. Because he would have been the first one in. He would have put himself between Tristan, Amaya, her and the monsters. 

Maybe other people thought that the Vampires were civilized and sexy. Just normal if not strangely alluring people who needed a liquid diet with a whole lot more iron and avoided the Sun for health reasons. Maybe they could convince themselves that the Vampires’ gifts were party tricks used simply to cause wonder and applause. 

But that’s not what they were. 

They were predators. And all those lovely gifts would allow them to take whatever they wanted and whoever they wanted whenever they wanted. 

The biggest way the Eyrie kept them safe from humanity was because it kept them hidden. Keeping out of the Vampires’ notice was the best–and perhaps only–way to stay safe from them. But there Nick was. In a room full of idiots who thought that their plans were secret from beings who could read minds and tell the future. 

She wanted to yell at him to get out of there right that second. But she was only to use the mic when he was in a room like that–near a mark or a client–if it was an emergency. She wanted to pound her hands against her glass desk and shout, “It’s an emergency!” But it wasn’t. Because an emergency was only something that Nick didn’t know. And he knew all of this about Vampires. 

Only he doesn’t seem afraid. He almost seems… drawn to them.

She focused on the camera feeds from Jason’s sanctum sanctorum. He was clearly determined to film everything. For history? For blackmail? Regardless, she was glad for his surveillance, because it had become her surveillance. 

The room was round with two overly large couches in the center.  There was a spotlight effect on the center of the room where the billionaires sat, leaving the outside in near darkness. Nick was by the far wall, seemingly preparing to open a bottle of champagne. His image flickered. She frowned and leaned closer to the screen. He seemed faint. 

Weird.

She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself. What exactly would she say? That Jason Meeks’ cameras were malfunctioning and causing Nick to almost look transparent? Or even not there at all at times?

“How exactly do you propose we take the gift of immortality from them? Just drinking their blood doesn’t work,” Richard said quietly, drawing her attention back to where it should be.  “I can assure you of that.”

“You sound like you’ve tried it.” Jason stared at Richard, who did not deny it.

“The Master has to will it to make the Childe,” Collin exaggerated the words as he took a large swallow of whisky. 

“Uhm, Collin, how do you know that?” Fred adjusted his seat to face him.

“We tried it of course,” Collin snorted. 

You’ve got to be kidding! They’ve stolen Vampire blood? Drunk Vampire blood?  Tried to make Vampires?

Harry felt her gag reflex working overtime even as her palms sweated. What these men were stating they had done was a violation of the Blood Pact. What would Vampire King Daemon’s reaction to such a major violation like that be? 

“We?” Richard asked.

“The military. The US military,” Collin clarified.

“Should you be telling us this? Isn’t this top, top, top secret information?” Fred asked.

Harry’s hands curled into fists. Great. So not is this going to get Daemon angry, but the US military too?!  Fan-fucking-tastic!

Her eyes shifted to Nick. The cameras didn’t give enough detail for her to read his expression. She blinked. Because, for a moment, she swore he was not there at all. But then he was back again. She shook herself.

“Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters really.” Collin stared morosely into his drink. “Anyways, we had the recruits drink gallons of the goddamned red stuff. Drained those Vampires down to near corpses. Didn’t work. Not one fucking bit.  There’s some secret sauce that’s missing. We figure it has to be will or something. A desire to turn them. That was the only thing missing.”

“Something’s missing, to be sure,” Jason said with a faint smile on his lips.

“Do you know what that something is, Jason?” Richard asked with a lifted eyebrow.

Harry stared at Jason’s face hard. The billionaire wore perfectly pressed khaki trousers and a polo in soft blue that hugged his newly muscled frame. She could see the veins that corded his arms as if they wanted to burst out. He had honed himself down to the bone through diet and exercise and drugs. Before the Vampires had shown up, Harry recalled seeing an article about him and several other men with too much money on their hands seeking ways to stop aging and even reverse it. Then the Vampires had come and made that more than a mere possibility, but so much more too. For Jason, not being made a Vampire must have felt like someone had dangled a carrot in front of his nose only to snatch it away from him. 

“Yes… and no,” Jason said. 

Harry leaned forward further as if she could tease the answer from his expression. If he knew of a way to make Vampires without the Vampires agreeing to it…

“That’s not exactly edifying, Jason,” Richard said dryly.

“Another group–likely using the existing research that Collin refers to–has figured it out,” Jason explained.

“If it is a military group, I would know about it,” Collin insisted.

“Military adjacent,” Jason clarified. “And so secret with so much black funds that no one in the government who set it up even knows about it.”

Harry’s stomach plummeted into her feet. It wasn’t just that this group was likely above the law–that had never stopped them before, in fact, it was how they liked it–but because it meant that Nick would definitely want to take this job. Forbidden knowledge. Groups working in secret without oversight hoarding forbidden knowledge. It was like catnip for him.

There was a soft mew before Mouser was suddenly in her lap. His big, warm tom cat body conforming itself to her own frailer one. He was still licking his lips, likely because of his “snack” of the rat. Trying not to think where his tongue had last been, she enjoyed letting him then lick her fingers. His rough tongue tickled and grounded her.

“That doesn’t sound like a good use of taxpayer money.” Fred pressed his lips together primly.

“Fred, how much taxes do you pay exactly?” Richard asked dryly.

“That’s not the point!” Fred blinked owlishly. “So–so what did they find out, Jason?”

Yes, what did they find out?

Jason grinned broadly and said, “How to make Masterless Vampires.” 

Oh, God… Harry knew that Nick would be in on this. He wouldn’t want these men to have this secret knowledge alone. 

“Masterless? What does that even mean?” Fred blinked some more.

“Take the Master out of the equation and you can use the blood to turn anyone?” Richard asked, stroking his chin. “That’s what you’re suggesting, isn’t it?”

“Not just what I’m suggesting, Richard,” Jason said pedantically. “It’s been accomplished. Or very much so.”

Collin was frowning very hard as if it took a lot of his mental powers to accomplish this. “Can’t be done.”

“I’m telling you that it has been done. They’ve got a lab near the arctic. Taking advantage of the midnight sun to keep things mostly under wraps,” Jason explained. 

“Okay, so even if you know about this facility and what they’re doing… what’s that got to do with us?” Fred asked.

“Fred, do you even operate in the same world as the rest of us?” Collin snorted.

“I make games. Really fun games–”

“Addictive games, which are really gambling wrapped in a candy-coated package,” Jason said.

Fred waved that away. “Look! Look! My point is that the people in this room,” he pointed to Collin and Richard, “who usually are part of all this cloak and dagger stuff with the military weren’t invited to this party.  Even if you know about it, what does it matter? Unless they’ve asked you to be a part of it.”

All three mens’ heads swiveled towards Jason. 

“No, I haven’t been,” when there were groans, he added, “and I’m glad I haven’t been. Because the place is going to be taken down by Vampires any day now.  And anyone involved will be dealt with.”

Dealt with? The Vampires will kill them. Or worse.

And she knew that there was a worse. The Kaly Vampires could take souls and do who knew what with them.

“The Vampires know about all of this and you’re just telling us for what? Shits and giggles?” Collin glared drunkenly at Jason. “Now they might be pissed at us too! And for what? To hear your war story–”

“No. No, not at all.” Jason held up his hands placatingly. “You see, this group is done and they’re little experiments are going to be over. All the data and test subjects and who knows what else will be wiped off the face of the Earth.”

“Yes, quite, so–”

“But between now and then, there’s an opportunity to get the fruits of that research,” Jason explained.

Harry’s stomach fell into her feet. Of course, this was what Jason wanted them for: to break into a black box funded, special ops research center in the arctic that was about to be destroyed by a bunch of very angry Vampires. 

Richard’s eyebrows lifted. “You have a way in?”

“I know where it is. I know when the raid will happen. I have all the plans and security for the facility.” Jason ticked off on his fingers.

“Are you thinking of using some mercs? Because I can get some of those to go in–”

“No, Collin. We need to be in and out without anyone knowing we were there. No one at the facility must ever know we were there. Nothing can show up on the security,” Jason explained. “This has to be done by someone who will be invisible to the humans and the Vampires.”

“This–this invisible person will get us the research,” Richard began.

“No, not the research. We aren’t going to be redoing that. No, there is a serum,” Jason explained. “I don’t want to get into all the ins and outs of it, but Collin’s discussion about will is actually partly why previous experiments never worked.  It’s not just any Vampire’s consent, it’s Daemon’s consent.”

“Excuse me?” Richard’s brows drew together.

“We’ve all heard the story about his beloved Childe, Julian Harrow, right? The only one who has been able to withstand the strength of his blood? Well, it seems that there is a diluted strain of it in Vampire blood overall. A Master Strain. The scientists were able to remove it.” Jason made a plucking motion in the air with his fingers. “And once that is gone, the blood can be used to turn anyone.”

This is bad. This is worse than I thought. This is… Oh, God, Nick, you need to get out of there!

But willing didn’t make it so.  Nick was still there, fading in and out of view.

“That bastard has been the one keeping immortality out of our hands,” Richard growled, but he was smiling toothily. “Of course, it would be something like that.”

“So we just need an invisible person to go get serum for us?” Fred looked dubious. 

There was the pop of a champagne cork. Harry’s heart leaped into her throat. All eyes turned towards where Nick now stood at the side of the room, fully exposed, open champagne bottle in his hand.

“Invisible man, Fred,” Nick said, his features and voice disguised and distorted by the mask he wore. “And here he is.”