Dark Fire by Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 6

“Do any of the other photos show her face up close?” Wallace asked.

“This is the best. She was staring straight toward the camera. I say we find this girl and get a few answers,” Brady replied.

“Perhaps,” Wallace said, “we should investigate a little further. If this girl knows something, it shouldn’t be all that hard to get it out of her. Find her and bring her back here to our headquarters for interrogation.”

Cullen Tucker looked uneasy. “Suppose she knows nothing at all? Maybe she’s just some girl Matt found photogenic. If you bring her here and she sees all of us, finds out what we seek, we’ll be exposed to the world.”

Wallace shrugged casually. “Sometimes small sacrifices are necessary. Regretfully the young lady will be disposed of in order to protect our identities.”

Cullen glanced around the room, studying the faces, looking for someone who would protest along with him. But the faces were blank, the faces of followers. Prudence dictated that he keep his mouth shut.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Brady growled, his cold eyes suddenly alive with a fever for blood.

Cullen shrugged. “No more than anyone else,” he temporized. “I don’t have to like it, Brady, just because it’s necessary. I’ll start looking for her at the band’s next concert. It’s in northern California. I’m sure they’re heading that way now. She shouldn’t be hard to spot, but just in case I’m wrong, send someone back to the park. Maybe she was a local or a camper. The park rangers might have seen her.”

Brady Grand was silent a moment, quieting the urge to fight. He nodded. “Take Murray with you. It’s safer if there’s two of you.” He indicated the youngster, knowing the kid was eager to do something violent, prove himself to the group.

“I always work alone-you know that,” Cullen protested. “Two of us will only draw that bodyguard’s attention. We can’t count him out, you know. I’m willing to bet he’s the one who took down our team.”

“Maybe,” Wallace mused, “but more likely it was Savage. He showed up right around that time. I hardly think Desari’s bodyguard is a threat to us-unless, of course, he’s one of them himself.”

Cullen bit back his retort. What was the use? Brady Grand had become as fanatical as William Wallace in the last few years. They carried weapons constantly and trained a small army. They both seemed to think they were fighting a war. Cullen simply believed that if something as evil as a vampire existed, it should be exterminated. He believed it because he had been in San Francisco a few years back when a serial killer was on the loose. Except it was no serial killer. The creature had murdered Cullen’s fiancee right in front of him, draining her blood and laughing while he did so. The police didn’t believe him-no one did. Until Brady Grand found him. Now Cullen wasn’t certain anymore whether the bloodthirsty Grand and Wallace were much different than the vampire.

Cullen glanced once more at the picture of the laughing redhead. She was beautiful, with joy and warmth in her smile, compassion in her face, a sweet innocence in her stance. Beyond her slender body and wealth of red hair, he saw someone worth something. He saw a woman with the same natural goodness his fiancée had possessed. He sighed and pocketed the photograph. It was amazing to him the others couldn’t see the innocence in her face. She had nothing to do with vampires.

“I’ll leave now,” he said gruffly. “I’ll be calling in to see if anyone picked up any leads, so have someone on the phones.”

Brady regarded him strangely. His nod was slow, and his cold snake eyes followed Cullen as he went out the door. Cullen inhaled the fresh, crisp night air deeply, wanting to rid himself of the stench of fanaticism. He had followed the society members out of a need to avenge his fiancée’s hideous death. Now that need didn’t seem so great. He wanted to be free of anger and hatred and start his life over again.

The photograph seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket. The smart thing to do would be to disappear. Get out. Hide. But he knew Brady Grand. The man liked killing and thought that in the society he had found a legitimate outlet for his psychotic tendencies. Even the U.S. armed forces had kicked him out, discharging him for his repeated vicious attacks on new recruits and civilians. There had been two incidents noted on his record, two suspicious deaths no one could quite prove were murders. Cullen knew all about those; he’d had a friend access the military reports. Brady Grand was not the kind of enemy he wanted hounding him for the rest of his life.