“The Cabal intercepted the call, right?” I said. “So the 911 dispatcher didn’t get it?”

“Unfortunately, it went through. The dispatcher sent an ambulance, but the Cabal was able to call 911 back from what seemed to be the same address. The guy said he was the assistant’s boyfriend, and he was getting them to the hospital himself.”

I told Aaron we’d meet him there.

*

Anyone who saw Aaron Darnell never wondered why Cassandra had hit on Clay all those years ago. Aaron was also a blond, well-built, good-looking guy. He was bigger and not as drop-dead-gorgeous, but they could have been siblings.

Jordan’s office was in the kind of building you’d expect for a wealthy lobbyist. Central location. Tall and modern, with lots of steel and glass. A reception desk staffed by security guards who would know at a glance whether you belonged there. I suspect they would have buzzed Cass in without her even flashing an ID badge, but we didn’t have to get past them. The Cabal team had infiltrated the building when they’d first begun monitoring Jordan. We met them in the parking garage and they let us in.

“Status check?” I said when we were on the elevator.

The team leader—Estrada—said, “We’ve established that the floor is clear. No other late night workers. The door to Jordan’s office is closed and locked. We’re not hearing anything from—”

He tilted his head, listening through his earpiece. His expression went grim.

“Strike that,” he said.

He hit the floor button beneath the one he’d selected. The team had set up earlier in an unoccupied suite over Jordan’s office, where they could drill down for sight and sound. They’d left when Jordan had, then hurried back after the call.

When the elevator stopped, he said, “This is Jordan’s floor. You folks go on up to 1104. Someone will meet you there.”

I started getting off behind him. “We’ll—”

Aaron stopped me. “Actually,” he said, “I’m going to second the SWAT guy. If Jordan’s staff is infected, I don’t think someone’s stuck them all with needles.”

“Viral, you mean.”

“Which is what this thing is supposed to be. Better let the SWAT guys and the vamps handle this. I’m not worried about getting a shot of werewolf DNA. I always thought they had more fun anyway.”

“You would,” Cassandra said.

They got off the elevator. I looked at Adam.

“They have a point but … Shit.” He glanced at me. “They’re right. Tough as it is to run for cover, I don’t want you getting whatever Bryce has. Don’t particularly want to get it myself either.”

The elevator doors started to close. I reached out to stop them.

“I agree about the not-getting-infected part. But we can watch from here, right? Safe distance?”

“Except the elevator is going to sound an alarm if we keep holding that door.” He prodded me off. “We stay here. Where’s the nearest stairwell if we need a quick getaway?”

I pointed to the Exit sign over a door beside us.

“Good.”

“God, we’re getting responsible,” I said.

He smiled. “Being careful just means we’ll live long enough to have more adventures.”

The team broke into Jordan’s office. I strained to hear, but only picked up footfalls and hushed instructions from Estrada.

Then a low moan came from the other end of the hall. I glanced around for any of our team, but they’d all disappeared into the office. Adam and I crept toward the sound.

“Help,” a voice rasped. “Please help.”

A young woman was making her way along the hall, leaning against the wall as she came. She was covered in blood. I started forward. Adam grabbed me.

She saw us, and her head lolled as she struggled to make eye contact.

“Puh-please help me.”

She kept shuffling along, leaving a smear of blood along the wall. Her arms and face were covered in deep gouges that oozed blood. Her legs were scratched up, too, her pantyhose in shreds.

Adam clamped a hand on my shoulder and backed me up. “We need to get help for her—”

The woman stopped and started scratching at her arm, her nails digging bloody furrows as she moaned, “It burns. It burns.”

I remembered the laboratory. The patient swathed from head to foot, desperately trying to scratch.

“She wasn’t attacked,” I whispered. “She’s infected. I’m getting help.”

I raced down the hall to the open office door and burst through. There were two people on the reception floor. One was a man in a suit, his shirt in shreds, torso covered in scratches, the bottom half a sodden bloody mess. The other was a guy barely out of his teens.

Aaron was holding the young man down as a team member bound his throat, the blood pumping so hard I knew he wasn’t going to make it. Aaron struggled to keep hold of his hands, both slick with blood. One got free and went straight for his own throat, clawing. Aaron managed to grab it before he did any more damage.

“Stay back, Savannah,” Aaron growled without looking up. Almost everyone was doing that—standing back. The team member binding the young man was gloved and masked. The others stood around, watching.

“There’s a woman in the hall,” I said. “She’s infected.” Estrada sent one of the team out after her.

“A woman called this in,” I said. “Where is she?”

“In here,” Cassandra called from the next room.

I found Cass prowling around a big office. On the floor lay a woman a few years older than me, blond, dressed in a blouse and skirt. She was lying in a pool of blood.

“Did they shoot …?” Another step and my question was answered. The young woman’s face was partially changed, brow and nose misshapen, bloody teeth bared.

“The virus appears to have been more successful with her,” Cassandra said.

“Not if they were trying for invulnerability.”

“True, but I might suggest you step away. Just in case.”

I moved back fast. Cass opened the door to a private wash-room, poked her head in, and looked around.

“Looking for clues?” I said.

“I sense someone.” Vampires can detect signs of life. “It’s very faint, though. Someone not long for this world.”