Page 30 of Sinistram
For one of the only times in their long, acrimonious relationship, Brent believed him. “Are vampires behind it?”
Shane’s pause was longer this time. “What do you know?” His voice had lost its humor and dropped into a deeper, more dangerous tone.
“How about I tell you a story?” Brent pushed his luck. “Someone with money, connections, and power wants to be rid of rabble hunters so they can operate more freely. They lure hunters onto ginned-up hunts to cull the numbers with plausible deniability. Meanwhile, they broker a deal with the rich, immortal monsters—aka vampires—who want to run their business enterprises hunter-free, for a cut.”
“Interesting story,” Shane said. “Got proof?”
“Working on it. Can you prove me wrong?”
Shane gave an exaggerated sigh. “You know, if there is such a plot—and that’s a very big, unlikely ‘if’—calling the people you think might be involved puts a huge target on your back.”
“Sometimes you need bait to draw the monster out of its lair,” Brent said. “If it isn’t CHARON, is Sinistram behind it?”
“Join us and you’ll be safer,” Shane said. “The offer still stands.”
“Still no,” Brent countered. “I know you guys in the secret societies talk, after you compare your decoder rings and club handshakes. So what have you heard?”
Brent could picture Shane seething, and it was a bright spot in an otherwise suckish day.
“The less powerful vamps have been lying low more than usual,” Shane finally said. “Wish we could take credit for it, but we can’t. The top fanger brass has pretty well fallen off the map—they have their hidden society, and they’re aware we know about it. We had a truce. They don’t slaughter people, and we don’t wipe them out.”
“Since I don’t think even you could cover up a wholesale vampire massacre, I’m guessing the truce hasn’t been broken,” Brent replied.
“Yet.”
For the first time, Brent heard a note of fear in Shane’s voice.
“You think there’s something in the works?” Brent was afraid Shane would remember who he was talking to and clam up before he said something important.
“Just a hunch. And since a bunch of us are psychic, that counts for something,” Shane replied. “People are taking omens seriously, that black moon, and then the lunar eclipse. Weird power outages and more reports of shadow creatures than usual. Don’t know whether that matters or not. Butifsomething was in the works, killing off hunters would help avoid being interrupted.”
“Good point, but why pick us off instead of going after the monster special forces, that’s what CHARON sees itself as, right?” Brent asked. “You’re organized, professional, and armedto the teeth. We’re a rag-tag bunch of guys with rifles and salt. Why go after us?”
Shane didn’t answer, and Brent felt the unspoken reply like a gut punch. “Oh my God. They wouldn’t have to, if CHARON is already compromised,” Brent said in a voice barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t say that,” Shane defended. “I just patiently listened to your theory to be helpful.”
His lack of an outspoken denial was worse than if he launched into a heated defense.
“Thanks. You’ve actually helped a lot.” Brent ended the call before Shane could get in a snarky reply. He sat there for several moments, staring at the phone in his hand, processing the conversation.
Shit. He as much as admitted that either CHARON is already involved, or that they might not side with the hunters if something happens. If that’s true, they’re not the ones in charge, which leans into Sinistram taking the lead. But what’s in it for them? And where do the vampires figure into it?
Brent’s email pinged, and he saw a new message from Mark with the list of hunters he had requested. Brent pushed worries about vampire conspiracies out of his mind for the moment, made a fresh pot of coffee, and dug into the comforting routine of data searching.
An hour later, he called Travis, who answered on the second ring.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Travis asked.
“Because even with the good drugs, I can only sleep for so long,” Brent replied. “And if anything was going to knock me out, it would be research. But it hasn’t yet.”
“I’m guessing you found something?”
Brent wiped a hand across his eyes. He was tired, which was to be expected. But it was “body tired” and not “brain tired,”which meant that even if he lay down, his mind would keep going, and sleep would remain out of reach.
“Mark sent me a list of dead hunters that he hadn’t had a chance to look into. A few of them were monster deaths, noted as ‘attack by wild animal’ in the official report. But the rest were mundane—hunting accidents, car wrecks, fell down a ravine, and a couple of self-inflicted gunshot wounds,” Brent told him.
“All of which would be pretty normal if you didn’t know they were hunters and if they hadn’t all happened in the last two months,” Brent concluded. “And while I was poking around, I found a couple of names I recognize from CHARON.”
