"Don't you want to take out her whole crew anyway?" Haven questioned. "And get your hands on the scrolls? What I saw were Xeroxed pages," he added. "No scrolls involved."

"I'd definitely like to have a look at them, whatever form they're in," Geoff said.

"Destroy them, you mean," Valentine corrected. "It's forbidden to read them."

Geoff balked at this. "Maybe for vampires. We're Nighthawks. I want to know what's been written about us."

"It's rude," Val replied. "Very unflattering."

"But is any of it true?" he wanted to know.

She wished he hadn't asked. "It's propaganda written to discredit the Nighthawks a long time ago. The scrolls were not written by Nighthawks, Geoffrey. How can anyone know what we are without being of our line?"

Haven spoke up. "Are we going to kill vamps tonight, or what?"

Valentine and the other Nighthawks stared at him. "We?" Geoff finally asked.

Haven produced a key card with his photo on it out of a coat pocket. "I can get you into any part of the hotel. I even know what this Martina looks like."

"Mortals aren't allowed to kill vampires," Char said.

He gave her a hard look. "We've had this discussion before." They glared at each other for a moment. He didn't back down, but he did shrug. "Fine. You kill the nest vamps. I'll take the slaves and companions."

Char visibly relaxed. "Deal."

"Wait a minute," Geoff complained. "You can't let this mort - -"

"It's against the Laws for mortals to be involved," Val cut in smoothly, drawing their attention back to her. "You disapprove of the Laws, Geoffrey. I think the Council's full of s.h.i.t. You and I have no argument with Mr. Haven lending a hand if Char agrees to it."

Char gave Geoff a smug look. Val went on. "Of course, if we're going to rescue Duke and kill us some bad vampires, the hotel's probably not where we should be looking. For that, we need the airport.""Why? They've left town?" Haven questioned.

She ignored his sarcasm. "We need to find where Martina's holding Duke prisoner. We have to look for an old, abandoned - "

When the energy wave hit, Val staggered back, words frozen in her throat. She heard vampires screaming up and down the street.

Geoff was one of the screamers. Char fell to the ground, curling up in a fetal ball. Haven's hands clutched his temples, while Val stared helplessly at them all. Lightning swirled through her brain, leaving waves of nausea and confusion in its wake.

"G.o.ddessG.o.ddessG.o.ddess," she murmured, aware it was both prayer and curse.

Then the light died - the flowing picture lights overhead, the casino signs, the shop lights, every light. Light died.

Power surge, she realized, brought on by a different kind of surge. Magic in the air. Loose in the city. Valentine stared into the natural darkness, hardly blind but not used to the absence of artificial light in this modern world. It was eerie, though it lasted only a few seconds.

The lights came back on, almost roaring back to life. A momentary outage. No big deal to the mortal crowd.

There was a lot of noise, people loudly asking each other what had happened. Other sounds were buried in the crowd noise. But Valentine picked out every anomaly - feeling, smelling, and hearing every shout and scream. And the sweet scent of blood.

"Wake up!" she shouted at the Nighthawk children and the mortal man. She yanked Char to her feet. She shook Geoff to stop his screaming. All she had to give Haven was a stern look. "Calm down," she ordered them. "We've got big trouble." She looked around, and pointed. Shadows and strange shapes stalked across the landscape. Monsters moved among the huge herd of mortal sheep. "There. There. There. Go," she commanded the Nighthawks and the human hunter. "Take them down."

Chapter 16.

IT WAS HARD to scream with his face turned into a fang-filled muzzle, but he managed to roar. It was impossible to cry. His vision was sharper, sensing light, shadow, and color in a way that was almost tactile. His hearing was sharpened, the range of sound much broader. Adrenaline pumped through him. And hunger was a spiritual need. Smell was enhanced, the scent of familiar blood everywhere. Much of it wasn't blood anymore, but ash, residue, a by-product that stank of evil. He understood evil. He kind of liked it. But this - Clare had died at the whim of evil. She'd died to call up evil. Her death had been - an ingredient - in a spell.

Nothing more or less.

Ben shuddered, and retched, the taste of vomit hideous to the highly sensitive taste buds in his Hunter's mouth.

The memory of evil tickled at his mind. He could barely breathe, his lungs wanting to reject the charged, heated air. He had to get out of here. He had to get himself under control. He didn't know how or why he'd changed shape. Maybe it had been an instinctive reaction to the darkness and the pain. Maybe a protection against the magic, or a by-product of it. Didn't matter. He had to pull himself together.

He tried to change back.

All that did was send him howling in agony again. Thoughts tried to flee away from the pain, but Ben held on to himself, even inside this shape where it was all right to lose control and simply be the hungry nightmare beast that dwelled in every human soul.

"Monster."

The voice cut through the heat and the pain, through the grief and fear. Ben concentrated on the voice, recognizing it. He'd loved that voice a few minutes ago. Now he used the voice as a chain that led him to the scent of meat fed by warm, rich blood. He'd loved the physical form wrapped around the heart that beat so strongly with excitement and triumph. Reese's body was hard muscled. It would be tough and chewy, but relatively low fat.

Ben ran his tongue over his fangs. His mouth watered with hunger. His claws throbbed with the need to tear into flesh. His c.o.c.k was swollen with the stronger, true Hunter need, to take and dominate, to feed on fear as well as flesh.

"You're drooling. Disgusting animal." Reese's voice dripped with more self-satisfied triumph than it did sarcasm. The winner taking the time to gloat.

Ben looked into Reese's face, and was almost blinded by the blaze of power that shot from the magician's eyes. He had to throw his arm over his eyes. Even then the brightness burned against his closed lids.

Reese chuckled, aware of Ben's pain. "You were going to make me into something like you, weren't you? Stupid creature. I was going to be your slave? I don't think so. You'll make a nice pet, though. I'll put you on exhibit. Let you feed on my enemies. Won't that be fun?"

Ben opened his eyes, concentrated, and managed to finally banish the images of Morgan Reese as potential meal or power source from his mind. He made himself see Reese as an ugly, arrogant murderer standing over another victim, gloating. Ben accepted the murderer, being one himself, and having faced down murderers all his mortal and immortal life. He didn't even mind the gloating. It was being a victim that was galling.

Reese looked at his watch. "Earlier than I thought," he said. "But I still have to go. Still have a show to do. One more show. Then maybe another tomorrow night. Maybe not. Tonight I'll use the real power on my audience. Some of them will belong to me by the time the show is done. I'll burrow my will into their puny brains and have the beginnings of an empire. If you're good, I'll feed one of them to you." He smiled at Ben with the pride of possession. "I'm looking forward to seeing how your kind kills."

With that he turned and walked away. Ben looked after Reese, thinking, You'll find out soon enough.

When the door closed behind Morgan, Ben made himself look around, looking for a way out of the cage. It glowed now, with an icy blue light. Reese's spell had increased the magical strength he'd already conferred on the flimsy stage prop bars. Ben couldn't touch the bars. Beyond the cage, the room was growing hotter. Clare's body was no more than a husk drained of every bit of the vibrant energy that had made her what she was. Reese had consumed her to work his spell. And the red jewel he used in the ritual was resting on the marble table again. It glowed like a piece of burning coal, and something evil writhed beneath the burning surface. It gave off very bad vibes. Ben didn't know what Reese had done to the gem, but Ben didn't want it anywhere near him.

d.a.m.n. The man was good. But magic wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The physical world was the place where a person could really get things done. Ben turned slowly in the small cage, looking for a physical means of escape. He looked down at the cage floor. For some reason the prop was set on a slab of concrete. The material was cool and rough beneath his feet. He sc.r.a.ped the claws of one foot over the surface, and felt a monster's smile bare his fangs. Ben dropped to his knees, and scrabbled his front claws into concrete. It cracked and crumpled as he dug. Making a hole deep enough to squeeze through wasn't going to be the quickest way out of the cage, but it would do.

At least he didn't think it was going to be fast work. Not until he heard the crackling, cracking sounds coming from across the room. He looked up from his work, and what he saw sent a bolt of terror through him. He had to get out! He had to get out now!

It was amazing how fast you can work when a creature from h.e.l.l is being born only a few feet away.

For a while Eddie just ran. No direction in mind, no purpose other than staying alive. Or so he thought. He didn't know when it occurred to him that he was running toward something, someone, but when he realized it, he came to a stop. Wolves howled at his back. The wolves were his brothers.

He threw back his head and laughed until his throat hurt."Brothers? What the f.u.c.k is that about?"

He hadn't thought like that in - centuries. Somebody had told him that once. Somebody who believed there was a community among their d.a.m.ned kind. Someone who protected.

"Mother," he whispered, rough-voiced, with panic rising again. It was too dark out on the city streets. The world was full of headlights and traffic lights and blaring horns borne on the strong, hot desert wind. And vampires.

Duke was coming after him, he was sure of it. The Nighthawk gone mad was going to seek out the strongest blood, a brother's blood. Duke could smell the secret inside him, Eddie was sure of it. Maybe he was one of the weak ones, one of the ones that never turned, but Nighthawk he was. It was going to get him eaten alive if he didn't find safety soon.

Eddie needed the lights.

He needed his mother. Valentine, who'd been in his dreams. More than his dreams. He'd seen her. He'd seen her. On a night like this, in the street. A scream of brakes. Horns. Like now. Shouts.

"d.a.m.n it, Eddie! Are you trying to get killed?"

"No," he answered the memory. "Trying to live. Help me." Eddie closed his eyes and shouted the thought across the centuries-old connection. Mommy! Valentine! Lady and Mother What? came back the annoyed mental shout.

Help me!

Oh, for G.o.ddess's sake. I'm busy!

Eddie was used to ignoring people being irritated at him. He hadn't survived by showing pride, or giving up. And he knew his Val, knew what she cared about, what to bargain with. He sent her a mental picture of what had happened in the lab.

The answer he got was a mental gasp. And, Get your skinny a.s.s to Fremont Street right now!

That was fine with Eddie. That was where he liked to spend his evenings anyway.

This was not how Haven had expected to spend the evening. He didn't mind. Martina's nest could wait. This was still a monster mash. Monsters were monsters, and killing them was what he was good at. But he didn't like that there were innocent civilians around. It wasn't just the vampires that were dangerous to the people in the street. Hunting down the vampires could make for some serious collateral damage. He most definitely didn't want that. He'd killed a few innocents in his time, and made a vow never to do it again.

He wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that most of the people on the street weren't aware they were in danger. The power outage had spooked people, but they were laughing about it as soon as the lights came on. When the monsters started running through the crowd, many a.s.sumed that they were costumed performers chasing other actors who were their "victims." It made much more sense to believe it was all part of some performance art show than to believe the monsters were real. n.o.body thought, The vampires are coming! The vampires are coming!

Partly, Haven supposed, because a hunting vampire didn't look like the popular image of vampires, not even the ones in the Nosferatu movies. There was an animal appearance to what strigoi called the hunting mask. All the better to rend, rip, and tear.

When they hunted, they didn't want to sip your blood and make you into either Mina or Renfrew.

Haven's real problem was knowing that hunting vampires were d.a.m.ned hard to kill.He needed help, and not the Nighthawk trio currently patrolling the street. Haven didn't know what the magic ray was that turned the local vampires lethal, but he didn't trust it not to hit again. He couldn't afford to trust that the next time it wouldn't affect Valentine, Sterling, and even Char.

He moved away from the street, put his back against the wall of a building. He kept his gaze alertly on the action before him when he pulled out his cell phone and pressed a speed-dial number.

"Baker," he said when his partner picked up on the first ring. "You still want to kill vampires? There's a party on Fremont Street.

Get Santini out of bed, and bring all your equipment. I've got stuff in the Jeep, but I have to get to the parking garage. Hurry."

He put the phone away, and became aware of Char by his side as she stepped out of shadows, still in human form, but her eyes were glowing. She was royally p.i.s.sed. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Calling for reinforcements," was the simple answer.

"You can't call in Baker and Santini. The three of you can't kill real vampires."

Haven pointed to the crowd. "Somebody has to."

"We don't have to kill them," she insisted.

"Why not?" Sterling asked, appearing on Haven's other side. The male Nighthawk radiated excitement. He grinned maniacally.

"They're attacking humans," Haven pointed out.

"It's not their fault," Char argued. "Something changed them. They can't change back."

"We don't know that," Sterling argued. "Let's take them out."

"You sound like you want to hunt for fun."

"I'm a Nighthawk," he countered.

"Well, I'm an Enforcer. We have to round them up and keep them safe until they can change back. I do not kill the innocent."

"The people in the street are innocent," Haven pointed out. "I defend mortals."

"You can't bring Santini and Baker into this."

"We need the help."

"I won't let them kill my people."

They'd had conversations like this before. Haven had an answer for her. "Vampires aren't the only supernaturals in town, are they?

Bound to be werewolves and fairies, fallens and demons hanging out in Vegas. Think that magic ray didn't affect them? You need us on patrol."

"Good point," Valentine said as she came up, dragging a skinny, scraggly-looking vampire with her. The skinny vampire was hunched over and looked scared to death, but he held an awesomely large rifle clutched to his chest. "This is Eddie," Valentine said, and patted him on the head. "An old boyfriend."

Char looked the newcomer over distastefully, and made a face at Valentine. "Yuck," was her judgment.

"It was the fourteenth century," Valentine answered. "You had to be there." She took a quick look at the street. "Talk quick, Eddie.

We have work to do."Eddie looked around, furtive and frantic. Haven saw that the vampire was dying for the lights, but Eddie was too scared to give in to his addiction. "Duke's coming," he said. "Berserk mode. He wants our blood. Wants my blood."

"What's he talking about?" Sterling questioned.

Haven had no trouble interpreting what the neon junkie meant. "The Enforcer of the City's gone off like the other crazy vamps. He's heading this way." He focused on Valentine. "You going to stop him? And how are you going to stop more magic from pouring out of that hotel of yours?" Haven had no doubt the origin of the spell that had transformed the monsters was the Silk Road. He didn't know if the current situation was some part of Martina's plan, but he was sure something more was coming. He didn't normally have premonitions, but the reality of impending doom tickled in his mind, and set his skin crawling.

Char put a hand on his arm. "I feel it too," she whispered to him. "Something wicked this way comes."

"It's not my hotel," Valentine countered. "All right, I own some stock, but I have no idea what's going on there."

"Maybe somebody better find out."