Acquainted With the Night (9781101546000) by Piper Maitland Read Free Book Online Page B

the carnage would be short-lived. Humans were no match for the vampires’ longevity and superior physical abilities, not to mention their otherworldly skills such as telepathy and telekinesis. The lot were canny survivalists. For thousands of years, they’d endured in a symbiotic relationship with humankind. They’d restrained themselves. If they got the upper hand, humans would be openly slaughtered, and as the earth was depopulated, widespread panic would erupt. A polarized society is a weak society. Civilization would disintegrate. The immortals would roost in Buckingham Palace, feeding on animal blood, and humans would go the way of the Neanderthal.
    But this won’t happen, Wilkerson thought. He was developing a biochemical means that would give humans like himself an edge. He took another sip of scotch and walked to the framed black-and-white photographs that lined the far wall. Each picture featured an herb or plant associated with longevity: water droplets sliding down an ephedra leaf, snow on mayapple blossoms, a spiderweb laced over ginkgo biloba. Higher plants were the foundation of many pharmaceuticals, and “green,” natural drugs were fashionable. As always, Wilkerson Pharmaceuticals would be on the cutting edge, creating products for aging baby boomers.
    He patted his thickening midriff and frowned. He was getting older, and bursitis was settling into his joints. His Romanian biochemists were working on a promising drug. They called it “a facelift in a pill.” No surgery, no needles, no allergy testing. The effects were temporary, of course, but once the medication was perfected, women would line up at clinics, demanding prescriptions. Wilkerson would rise to the top of the Fortune 500 list. Time would name him “Man of the Year.”
    The Romanian facility was also toying with stem cells, searching for biochemical ways to control aging—something far more permanent than an antiwrinkle pill. He’d recruited promising researchers from around the globe, and they were near a breakthrough in genome therapy. When that happened, Wilkerson would spend eternity without plucking gray hairs or enduring Botox and collagen injections. Laugh lines, his girlfriend called them. She should know, she had a few. Wilkerson didn’t. His face was a tight, unlined mask. He never laughed. Laughter was for bloody fools with nothing better to do.
    Wilkerson walked back to his desk and glanced at the television. Perhaps Yok-Seng could handle Moose. If not, Wilkerson would have to bring in the Zuba brothers. God, he hated to do that. The Zubas were two Russian vampires with impulse control issues. When vampirism collided with any type of neurosis, the results were unpredictable. Savage, you might say.
    From the desk, the intercom phone clicked, and his secretary’s tinny voice rose up. “Mr. Wilkerson? I have Mr. Underwood on line two.”
    Wilkerson tossed down the scotch and picked up the receiver. “Yes?”
    â€œSir? We have a situation.” Mr. Underwood’s voice sounded quivery and high pitched.
    â€œGo ahead.” Wilkerson lifted his glass and held it up to the light. Just a dribble of scotch remained.
    â€œIt’s the Clifford girl,” Mr. Underwood said. “She’s alive.”
    â€œAre you sure?” Wilkerson sat up straight. A pulse ticked in his neck.
    â€œQuite sure,” Underwood said. “Her passport surfaced on the grid. Heathrow’s cameras show a young woman fitting her description in Terminal Five. She’s flying to Bulgaria.”
    â€œMake sure there’s a greeting party at the airport.” Wilkerson poured another shot of scotch. Well, why not? He had a reason to celebrate. A few moments ago, the wheel of fortune had scraped the bottom, but now it was turning upward. The way it always did, always would.

CHAPTER 7
    HOTEL USTRA
KARDZHALI, BULGARIA
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    Caro was leaning against the steel railing in the