Sawyer put the hotel staffer in a choke hold and soon he fell unconscious. Sawyer then stripped the hotel staffer of his uniform. Not wanting to take the chance that the kid would wake up and identify his assailant, he bound the kid’s hands behind his back.

  After duct taping his mouth, he carried the staffer to the closest garden shack and dumped him there. But he didn’t leave without first pulling the phone and wallet out of his pants pocket and taking the kid’s key FOB which should grant him basic level access inside the Hyatt. Leaving the kid hunched and snoring against a lawn mower, Sawyer left the shack and closed the door behind him.

  After disposing of the kid’s cellphone and wallet, Sawyer spotted the black glass of the side door leading into the hotel. But before entering, he located a nearby catering van and grabbed a tray of rattling champagne flutes. It was one of five that were being prepared by an overworked woman in a black apron who didn’t notice him because she was hunched over distracted by something on her phone.

  The moment he approached the side door, he held the key fob up and slid it against the access panel. It flashed green.

  Continuing into the air conditioned hotel, which smelled of a blend of rich essential oils, he passed by the kitchen which smelled of dish soap and garlic. Then he felt the heat. A line cook with tattoos passed by him and barked something in Spanish as he rushed back into the kitchen.

  Once inside, he ditched the champagne and grabbed a black jacket and pair of shoes from the staff closet and slipped into a fresh identity. A basic catering uniform was never going to get him far. After slipping into the bathroom, he buttoned his jacket and ran his fingers through his hair. He actually looked like a pencil wielding stiff who served drinks for a living. It was the perfect cover he needed to access deeper parts of the hotel to find Cormac.

  He made it to the end of the corridor and nearly into the lobby when one of the managers walked over to him. He was built like a skinny bottle of champagne and his cheeks were pink from the stress.

  “You—where’s your badge?” His eyes flicked from his jacket, to his tray of champagne chutes, back up to his face. There was a suspicion in his eyes, but there was also extreme fatigue.

  “Sorry, I’m from the Temp Agency,” Sawyer said. “It’s my first day. I’m here on contract.” He found a slip of folded paper in his pocket and held it up for a brief second. The man grabbed it, so Sawyer stiffened because it was only a receipt for two double cheeseburgers. The manager shoved the paper back into Sawyer’s front jacket pocket. “I don’t need this, I need you back out on the floor. We’re short staffed.”

  “Where do you want me?” Sawyer asked.

  The manager’s posture deflated by an inch and his hand made a quick scribble across a clipboard. “Yes, I need you on tables,” he said, then fished out a badge from his pocket and thrust it into Sawyer’s hand. “Here’s your temp pass. You’re on fifteen minute cycles. Service the mezzanine to Orchid, Orchid to Coral, Coral to Ballroom. Ice is in the kitchen and on the fifth floor. If you screw up, you’re fired. If you spill drinks on anyone, you’re fired. Now go.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sawyer said automatically.

  He worked the loop. Floor to floor, corridor to corridor, he learned the tower by its veins. The service stairs smelled of bleach and old coffee. There were freight elevators with rubber bumpers. He explored the narrow passage behind the main bar. So far, there was no sign of Cormac or Harland.

  His cover was solid so long as he kept moving. He was practically invisible. Nobody looked twice.

  Mostly, he saw suits, gold ties, and wristwatches which blinked midnight blue. There were a dozen men from the states with the same glossy barber shop haircut and the same glassy indifference. He saw too many BlackDiamond cufflinks.

  When passing from the Coral room into the Ballroom, the door opened into a honeyed dark space with a hundred masked faces which turned in slow and synchronized reels beneath the crystal chandelier like a ritual. The masquerade had a rhythm to it, an algorithm of emotion he felt circling the room. The feeling swelled. Masks touched. Bodies detached from their partners and then reformed again.

  The band wore white gloves and black masks which looked like the face of demons. They played something resembling a skeleton waltz. Every few songs, pairs broke away from the tide with a hand around the wrist or a mouth against an ear. They disappeared through velvet curtains toward the tower’s suites to continue their good time in rooms that probably smelled like lilies and kept champagne on standby.

  Sawyer backed into the shadows along the margins and lifted a tray of glasses just enough to obscure his gaze. His eyes did the work. There were some pretty predators and handsome monsters. But he saw through their perfect posture and stinky cologne which fought the scent of the ocean-side air.

  That’s the moment he spotted her.

  Ashley Cross was in the crowd like she belonged there. Her hair was swept into something formal. Her eyes were smoky and her lips were red. She wore a gown the color of midnight and she didn’t wear a mask, and neither did her partner, Esteban the Witch Doctor, of all people. Esteban looked like a diplomat. He wore an immaculate tuxedo and his sharp jaw line was shaved. The pair moved together like they made a truce to dance through the night and forget about everything else.

  For the first few bars of the next song, Sawyer couldn’t hear the band because he kept thinking how he was going to approach her. Did she have the Black Ledger on her? Would she attack him if she discovered his presence? It was likely she carried a silver dagger like he did, so things could spiral into a deadly feud and that’s not something he could afford while Cormac was still out there. He couldn’t deal with that level of attention or his mission would fail.

  When she turned, Ashley inhaled a breath and her nose lifted. She tested the air like an animal in tall grass and every nerve in Sawyer’s body buzzed.

  Her gaze slid across the room. She found him.

  When their eyes matched, there was no surprise and no smile. There was only recognition. Esteban didn’t notice, too distracted by her figure. Hard to blame him, she looked stunning. Ashley gave Sawyer a little tilt of her head that meant we don’t have to do this now. But then Sawyer shook his head, no. They were doing this now or he was going to drag her off the dance floor. He made up his mind.

  Ashley nodded back at him, then retreated off the dance floor the way that predators break from the water. It was smooth and sudden.

  Esteban followed her. Ashley’s breath brushed the side of Sawyer’s throat as she passed close enough to sink her fangs in without trying. “Staff corridor,” she said, voice soft. Esteban’s eyes widened when he realized what was happening, but remained silent.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  They gathered in the hushed part of an adjacent corridor where the music faded but they still felt the vibration of dancing partners.

  Sawyer let his jacket hang open. It allowed him easier access to grab his pistol. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  Up close, Ashley’s perfume carried something sweet.

  “What are you doing here, Ashley?” Sawyer asked, keeping his voice hard. “And where is my father’s book?”

  Ashley didn’t flinch. “I’ll give you the Black Ledger,” she said. “I used the names in the book to pry open mouths. Those names got me here.” From a slit in her gown, she pulled out four black and chrome tickets. “I used the book to acquire these.”

  Sawyer’s jaw worked. “You ran from us. Bradford thinks you’re dead. I think you’re a thief. Either way, your loyalty to Project Black Ledger is tenuous.”

  “It’s complicated,” she said. Her eyes flicked past him to Esteban who waited uncomfortably in the corner and remained silent. He kept looking down at his feet. “I ran because I’ve been trying to reverse this for a long time. I burned some names on the ledger, BlackDiamond executives working in Panama City. I got us leverage. I got us a room.”

  “Us?”

  She nodded toward the ballroom. “Esteban knows what to smell for, what to listen for. That’s why he’s here.”

  “And for the money,” Esteban said.

  Her voice lowered. “BlackDiamond isn’t just moving weapons. They’re manufacturing them. Their partners grease the port authority and shape local policy. BlackDiamond locked the deal for the canal and tonight they’re unveiling something they’ve kept under a shroud. It doesn’t have a name yet, and there are no patents. The stories I’ve heard say they’ve already fielded a prototype in the Darién Gap against a cartel they don’t agree with.”

  “Harland works with the cartels,” Sawyer said. “Why would he try to destroy them?”

  “He works with some of them,” she said. “He feeds the others to the crocodiles. There are too many cartels and he needs enemies to test his war machines. That’s one of the primary reasons Harland is operating in Panama.”

  Sawyer held her stare long enough to feel the heat. “You took the Black Ledger. You put us in the crosshairs of the Panamanian military and you fled to save the world. That’s great and all, but they took Cormac and he’s inside this tower, somewhere. I’m not leaving until I find him. And I don’t want you getting in the way of that.”

  “They took your brother?” Ashley said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “So you haven’t seen him?”

  “No.”

  “What have you seen?”

  “Not a lot, we just got here. But knowing BlackDiamond, if we keep looking we’re bound to find freaky cult activity.”

  “Define freaky,” Esteban said.

  “Can you not?” Sawyer asked.

  Esteban swallowed hard. He gestured toward the end of the corridor. “If you want to see what the devil sells in secret to kings, then you’re invited to the show.”

  Ashley held up the tickets.

  Sawyer took one. “Save me a seat,” he said. “I still have to find my brother.”

  “No promises,” she said, already turning. “We’ll be inside. Come find us.”

  They vanished into the light of the distant lobby. Sawyer stood still long enough to look and feel the tower’s breathing from the distant elevator chimes and the soft droning of the HVAC clearing its throat. Then he moved again, buttoned up his jacket, and kept his eyes open for Cormac.

  He moved like a chameleon.

  Accessing the guest elevators, Sawyer posted himself in the shadows and kept out of view of the cameras. Dodging every camera angle was impossible, but he would mitigate any risk he could.

  There were other vampires and they wore BlackDiamond cufflinks. They knew he was a vampire, too, but thankfully his cover held because he really preferred not to get into a vicious knife fight in the corridor. If he had to escape, there weren’t options for unguarded routes. If he fled, it would be to a hail of gunfire from private security and the piercing blades of BlackDiamond vampires.

  From inside a new set of elevators, he discovered call buttons for the penthouses on the panel. When he pressed the button the reader blinked a rude red color. He tested his key FOB. That failed, too.

  He let it go.

  Cormac may be up there, but for now he had no way to access the penthouses.

  The choice hurt, so he did the next best thing and switched to intelligence gathering. After washing his hands, he crossed back through the hall and into the hotel’s largest conference salon as the last of the people in line were being ushered past velvet ropes.

  The air in the room was electric and people murmured about the events to come. Rows of white chairs lined the room. The stage was a minimalist altar. To the side was an object covered in a black shroud the size of a M-1 Abrams. The BlackDiamond logo hovered on the wall. The audience dressed like they were born into families holding sovereign wealth. There were men in tuxedos and women in gowns. The security around the room stood casually, eyes never still.

  He spotted Ashely on the third row. Esteban sat beside her.

  Sawyer slid into the seat beside her and felt the small magnetic pull of her shoulder. She didn’t speak and neither did he. They knew the pact.

  He scanned the crowd and didn’t see Cormac which meant he was likely in the penthouses. Of course, that was being hopeful.

  The lights went cold.

  Conversations pinched shut.

  The logo on the wall deepened from black to something darker. And then the sound woke with a low and warm note. Spotlights flared across the empty air.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the velvety voice said. “Good evening and welcome to this prestigious event.”

  Sawyer’s fingertips went numb.

  The man who took the stage didn’t need to be introduced. He carried the presence of a nightmare. He glided effortlessly with the occasional glint in his eyes. His hair was silver and his jaw line was perfect. It was Harland Morrow.

  “On behalf of BlackDiamond, thank you for joining us for a very private demonstration of what comes next.”

  Esteban twitched.

  Ashley’s breath slowed.

  Harland let the silence fill the room. Then he said, “I’m Harland Morrow, Vice President of Black Diamond. Let’s talk about the future of this great company.”

  The room exhaled like a congregation. On stage, the sheet over the large shrouded shape shifted from the AC’s blowing air then settled again. There was a hint of dark metal underneath. The structure seemed to breathe. It made him think about Cormac, hoping he was still breathing. But since he had zero leads on his location and no way to access the higher floors, all he could do was sit, watch, and collect intel from the man who stole his humanity and turned him into a monster. Part of him hoped that Harland would spot his face in the dark because it may give Sawyer the tempting pull he needed to leap from the crowd and rip Harland’s head off with his bare hands. But of course if he did that, he would be gunned down. All he could do for now was sit in the dark and wait it out.

  The wall behind Harland Morrow bloomed with maps of Central America and signatures on legal documents. There weren’t any photographs. Most of the documents were stamped with big red letters that read CONFIDENTIAL.

  Sawyer leaned back half an inch and eyed the door, the stairs, the guards, the paths inside and out, and already formed a plan of escape. He would get Cormac. He would get the Black Ledger back from Ashley. He would make Harland Morrow reverse his vampirism and then force him to squeal his name as he dug his dagger into the beast’s heart. But first he would realize the most unsettlingly evil construction ever produced by a monster masquerading as a man.

  Harland smiled like a man who savored revenge. “Shall we begin?”

  The room answered with silence. That meant yes.