Up From the Grave: A Night Huntress Novel by Jeaniene Frost

heavy irony.
    “Why would I . . .” I began. Then understanding dawned.
    “Holy crap, you’re a closet Trekkie!”
    I would have delved deeper into this surprising revelation about Ian, but my cell phone rang. I glanced at the number before snatching it up with impatient relief. After leaving multiple voice mails for three straight days, Vlad had finally called back.
    “Where have you been?” I answered in lieu of a hello.
    “Busy,” was his clipped reply, his cultured accent more pronounced.
    “Aren’t we all? Listen, I need your particular brand of help, which is why I called—”
    “Count me out this time, Cat.”
    I was too upset by his reply to make a quip about the real Dracula using the word “count.”
    “It’s serious,” I said, in case he thought I was looking for a teammate for competitive nail filing.
    “Whatever it is, I can’t help. Furthermore, you need to be in Romania tonight.”
    I was well versed in Vlad’s arrogance, yet this was going too far. “You refuse to help me with a life-and-death scenario, but you want me to hop a plane and leave immediately for your house?”
    “He’s lost his wits,” Bones muttered from the next room.
    Vlad replied with four words that briefly cleared my mind of all thought. I asked him to repeat them to be sure I hadn’t misheard, and when he did, I began to grin.
    “Then I guess I’ll see you tonight,” I said, and hung up.
    Bones came into the room, his chiseled features marred by an expression of disbelief.
    “We can’t rush off to Romania, Kitten. Whatever Vlad thinks is so important can wait—”
    “No, it can’t,” I interrupted, still grinning. “He’s getting married tonight.”

Eleven
    W e hitched a ride on Mencheres’s private plane since he and Kira were invited, too. In fact, Mencheres was Vlad’s best man. Ian, however, didn’t come since he and Vlad weren’t close. Hell, neither were Bones and Vlad. If not for me, Bones would never have been invited, and if Bones didn’t know that Vlad had made my short list of true friends, he would rather pound sand than attend Vlad’s wedding.
    While on the plane, Bones and I filled Mencheres and Kira in on what we’d discovered about Madigan. Aside from being his vampiric version of a grandsire, Mencheres was also co-ruler of their combined lines, so he could be trusted. His wife, Kira, might be in training to be an Enforcer, which was the vampire version of a cop, but she’d keep her mouth shut, too. Then I spent the rest of our flight trying to think up a way to discover the compound’s entrance that didn’t involve eleven days of waiting until Barbara showed up to claim another briefcase.
    Our current inability to move on the compound frustrated me to no end, but in this instance, patience wasn’t a virtue. It was a necessity. We couldn’t outsmart the security system, and with Vlad seriously unavailable because he was getting married, I had yet to come up with a way around it that didn’t end up becoming a suicide mission. Part of me hated flying thousands of miles away while our friends were in danger, but the rest resignedly noted that either here or there, we were still stuck in waiting mode.
    Unless . . .
    “You could use your telekinetic powers to freeze everyone underground while we searched the place for the entrance,” I suggested to Mencheres despite it sounding naive to my own ears.
    A winged brow rose. “And if this facility isn’t the command center of Madigan’s operations?”
    I sighed. “Then we’re screwed.”
    Someone high up in the government had to have been backing Madigan all these years after Don fired him. How else could he have at least two clandestine underground facilities at his disposal, not to mention the astronomical funding all his experimental research would have cost? So the shadowy figure—or figures—behind Madigan would go into deep hiding once they knew we had the power to immobilize an entire base. No, we had to save our