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The sarcasm left Dominique unmoved. Or confused. Jackson couldn’t tell which. Turning on a heel, he headed for the mine.

For a trail to a condemned mine, it was remarkably well-maintained as it curved through a narrow canyon of fragrant spruce. The rushing burble of the creek soon turned into a droning rumble. Then, around an abrupt turn, a sheer rock-face came into view, along with the black mouth of a cave. Two hundred yards away, a waterfall crashed to the ground, sending clouds of ghostly mist into the shadowy forest.

“There you go. The mine,” the redhead, Terry, announced.

Jackson eyed the cavern, which seemed to stare back at him. It was big enough to swallow a locomotive—or two hundred vampires—with ease. “This doesn’t look like any mine I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s not. It starts inside the cave.”

“Nice.” Ignoring the thud of his pulse in his temples, he flipped on the torch. “You should stay out here. Nick and I won’t be long.”

To his relief, the villagers didn’t argue.

Dominique gave him another one of those looks that said he thought Jackson had lost his mind, but he took off his sunglasses and tucked them into a pocket on his vest, ready to follow him into the darkness.

Taking the flashlights from their utility belts, the officers tagged along.

The temperature dropped ten degrees when their group crossed into the cave, where they were met by a chilly breeze rushing from the depths. The beam of his torch cut through the gloom, revealing bits and pieces of civilization. Rusted winches and chains, an overturned bucket, and coils of frayed rope lay half buried in mud and gravel. The stacks of modern, camouflage-patterned crates gave him pause.

“Vampires,” Dominique said in a dramatic whisper.

Shivers raced down Jackson’s arms as he turned away from the crates. The actual vampire’s light pointed straight up at the ceiling, where a cluster of bats shuffled and squeaked in the glare. “Wiseass.”

Dominique chuckled.

“Over here,” Rao called from farther in. “This looks man made.”

So it was. The square tunnel was narrow, but tall enough to stand in, a path carved straight into the mountain. Several support struts were visible, but no end. Only black depths that swallowed their lights.

“Bingo,” Jackson said, letting his beam follow a metal pipe as thick as his arm, which emerged near the tunnel’s ceiling and snaked toward the cave’s mouth. A power conduit, he reasoned, possibly data as well. Those solar panels, and the batteries they must be charging, clearly powered more than the cottages.

Dominique made a small worried noise. “Surely you don’t expect us to—”

“That’ll be far enough,” Terry called.

A second later, Officer Campbell barked, “Drop your weapon!”

Weapon?Jackson spun around and straight into a blinding beam of light. Dominique turned away, shielding his eyes.

“Take cover,” Rao commanded before echoing the order to drop weapons. He sounded like he was close to the ground now. Amidst the skittering beams, Jackson couldn’t see a fucking thing.

The same was not true for the village men pointing those high beams at them. “I said that’s far enough,” Terry hollered and emphasized his words with a weapon’s blast that reverberated in the cavern like a thunderclap. Campbell—or maybe it was Rao—returned fire, which was promptly met by more of the same. A deafening crescendo of gunfire followed.

Jackson grabbed Dominique’s arm and hauled him toward a shadowy outcrop he prayed was substantial enough to stop bullets. Where the fuck had the villagers gotten those guns and lights? Had to be those crates by the entrance he hadn’t checked. Fuck!

Just before he ducked behind the outcrop, Jackson cut off his torch. Dominique had dropped his and stumbled after him, blind and clumsy. Jackson yanked him down beside him, eliciting a pained cry from the vampire. “Keep your head down, you idiot. You’re not so immortal that it can’t get blown off.”

Screams and shouts punctuated the gunfire, which raged for what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds. When the noise finally subsided, Jackson noticed Dominique curled beside him in the dirt, speaking in French as though reciting prayers or dispensing curses, maybe both.

“We told you it’s not safe in here,” Terry’s nasal voice admonished. “Wouldn’t listen, though, would you?”

“I got hit in the arm,” one of his cohorts wailed.

“What a mess,” another one spat.

“They had guns,” Terry countered defensively. “Nobody said anything about them having guns.”

Someone who sounded like Campbell cried out in obvious agony.