At her suggestion, the official name for the current operation was the Vampire Asylum Military Program of Scotland, or VAMPS. When I first heard it, I thought it was a joke, but I had to admit it was easy to remember. VAMPS currently acted as the human liaison between the US, Scotland, and, to some extent, the rest of the countries that were interested in seeing how the situation unfolded internationally. And who was Morag’s second-in-command? None other than her own brother. The arrangement was equal parts amusing and infuriating for them, and they butted heads as often as they got along. I tried to imagine a situation in which Zach was above or below me in a vitally important international dispute. Hard to put siblings into roles like that.
Thinking of Zach and the rest of my human team, I wondered what they were all doing in the barracks right now. With the vampires who had joined us—over forty at my last count—and some Scottish researchers Morag had brought in to work with the vampires, the camp could be quite a hub of activity some days. It had been a hard but necessary sell to our vampire allies when they’d caught wind of the scientists being brought in. Could anyone blame their hesitation, after first-hand experience or tales of Bureau torture? Not me. But Morag had to appease the international community demanding information. The researchers wanted to do preliminary vampire studies to verify the Bureau’s files. The scientists wanted to study dark matter. At least they were personable and seemed more awed than disgusted by the vampires. The absence of hostility impressed me, but that was honestly a pretty low bar.
I rolled my neck, stretching a sore muscle. The sun broke through the clouds, briefly warming me in my spot atop the peak. Tilting my head to let the sun warm the side of my face, I spotted a flock of small, dark shapes in the far distance. After a minute or two, they were close enough for me to recognize their silhouettes. Redbills. Three of them.
The Scottish military had been wonderful about allowing the redbills to fly freely. It was forbidden to fly a drone near an airport, but our supernatural birds were free to move over Scotland. The redbills flapped their wings in a flurry. My fingers tingled as I stared at the approaching birds, a feeling of unease stealing over me. A vampire feeding party had been dispatched to the Immortal Plane this morning, but they’d said they likely wouldn’t return until evening or even tomorrow if they had to travel far to find food. Had they forgotten something? No, they were flying in too fast for that. Had something happened?
Shaking the stiffness from my legs, I started down the path that would lead me back to the camp. The wet trail was treacherous, and I had to take my time until I reached the foothills that stretched for about a mile across relatively flat ground.
Let’s see if I can break my mile record.
If it ended up being nothing, at least I would get a sprint in. My body groaned at the increased pace, but I leaned into the strain, keeping my breathing as deep as I could as I raced across the open moor. Just under ten minutes later, I trotted up to the gate, gasping for breath.
“No tumbles today, Sloane?” one of the guards, a rosy-cheeked blond guy, asked as I flashed my ID badge.
“Not today, MacGregor,” I replied, still panting, splattered with mud and water. “Did three redbills just come in?”
“A minute ago, aye,” he replied, raising his eyebrows as he waved me in. Maybe he saw the beat of panic in my frown.
The redbills were gathered near the barracks as I raced up the path toward the compound. Maybe it was nothing. I hoped so. Inside the fence, the world seemed much smaller, the wildness outside feeling just out of reach.
On the other side of the barracks, the Scottish military had converted an old structure into a “stable” to house the six redbills we’d brought over to Scotland via military cargo plane. The redbills had been furious. I never again wanted to share a flight with an epically pissed off supernatural bird made of rage and razor-sharp talons.
I caught sight of a tall and sinewy frame in the distance.
“Kane,” I called, jogging closer. “You’re back early.” The rest of my words died as I realized Kane was shouting orders. Two other vampires stood beside him, crowded around a tense, hissing redbill. One, named Neo, was tall with the sides of his head shaved down to skin, the black hair on top left long. The other, whose name I couldn’t remember, was a burly fellow wearing a worried scowl. Harlowe hovered near one of their redbills, her long platinum-blonde hair draping over her shoulder in a braid. Without warning, the redbill shrieked and beat its wings, nearly rising into the air before the vampires called it back to the ground. Something was strapped over the redbill’s back. My stomach twisted with unease. I ran up and, catching sight of Castral’s long green-toned blue hair in its usual braid, realized it was the final member of the party that had gone to the Immortal Plane to hunt.
I needed to help. The redbill would have to calm down so we could move the injured vampire off its back. If we jostled him too much, it could further injure him before we reached a medic. Were the medics in the trailer? I could run and check. The redbill carrying him jerked to the side as Kane attempted to step closer.
“Calm the redbill down. We won’t be able to move him with feathers flying all over the place,” Kane ordered. Harlowe held the redbill’s head close to her chest, rubbing its forehead and murmuring under her breath. The redbill emitted a disgruntled squawk but settled down. What happened to make it so upset? It had to be something they encountered in the Immortal Plane. I’d seen reactions like that before when the redbills tangled with immortal creatures. The injured vampire groaned.
“Is he safe to move?” I asked, immediately snapping into crisis management mode. “Where’s the injury?”
“His leg. Get a medic!” Kane shouted. “Castral’s been wounded. Badly. We’re going to try to get him off this redbill.”
Castral, strapped to the redbill, moaned. I didn’t know him well, but he was part of the vampire cohort Kane brought back from the Immortal Plane. Castral only stood out in my mind because instead of the long cloaks that most of the vampires wore, he sported a rust-colored leather jacket he’d won in a card game with some compound guards on his first night here.
Before I turned to run toward the medical trailer near the barracks, I saw the blood oozing from deep punctures in Castral’s thigh. The skin around his leg and his arm appeared blistered and burned, the flesh raw. Something more powerful than a regular knife had stabbed him. His jacket was ruined on one side.
But it was the blood that hypnotized me.
I’d never had the chance to study large quantities of vampire blood before. Injuries like this hadn’t occurred during our Bureau battles. It was red, but shadows shivered through the color. Even when the vampires had fed on Dorian after he’d been hit by the Bureau’s dark energy weapons for the first time, I hadn’t seen blood. God, the Immortal Plane was far more dangerous than the human world.
I tore myself from the sight and sprinted to the large trailer that served as the medical center. Yanking open the door, I yelled inside.
“Medic! We’ve got a vampire down. He’s bleeding out!”
There was a flurry of movement as several medics tumbled from the trailer and ran toward the gathered vampires, who were carefully lifting Castral off the redbill. From the corner of my eye, I saw Neo returning with a vampire I’d seen working with the medical team before, sharing treatments and information on how to treat vampires. Another human medic ran past me, and I followed. My body ached from my run, but I pushed past the pain. The group descended on Castral. Harlowe held the redbill more tightly as it chirped irritably, upset at all the noise and fuss.