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The SUV had been moved behind the barn. With his back turned to Earl, he checked his bag and found the contents undisturbed: a change of clothes, toiletries, and—most important—the black leather case with the suppressant. The last, he tucked into his best pocket before zipping up the bag, grabbing it, and closing the hatch. Phase one was complete.

Phase two was related to phase one in ways he didn’t care to contemplate. He launched into it on the way back to the house. “I’ll need a couple of the guys to come back into the mine with me.”

Earl stopped and looked at him, incredulous. “The mine? Why would you want to go back there?”

He made a show of looking uncertain. “I was asked to go back today.” He dropped his voice a little. “Bythem.”

For a moment, the large man with his hands tucked into the bib of his overalls didn’t seem to have heard him. Jackson imagined he could see the compulsion churning in the pale eyes, trying to decide on a course of action. “And you need help?”

“Yeah. Some things need cleaning up.” About two-hundred-odd things, in fact.

Earl scratched his beard. “Well, if you were told, I guess you can’t say no.”

Jackson remained straight-faced. “Why would I want to?”

“Right. Okay, c’mon. Let’s get you your cleaning crew, then.”

37

Cleaning Crew

Thecrewwasalittle larger than Jackson had hoped. He was fairly certain he could handle two—so long as they didn’t pull out their shotguns again—but three was pushing it.Wing it, he told himself, smiling and nodding.

They were three of the four men from the day before, but there was no animosity in them. No one mentioned the shootout, and all introduced themselves to Jackson as though they had only just met. He shook their hands. Terry, the lanky redhead with the wary scowl and nasal voice; Tim, his fresh-faced younger brother and steadfast shadow; and Carl, a large man whose jaw was in constant motion over a wad of tobacco.

Compulsion can be a beautiful thing, Jackson decided as he led the way to the cavern with his new companions. This time, they remained armed only with flashlights.

His backpack was still where it had been flung yesterday, all its contents intact. He pulled out the full-spectrum torch and lit up the small room bright as day.

The lift was still where he left it, thanks to the gate he had left open wide this morning, which blocked it from descending. If anyone noticed the glitch, they hadn’t cared enough—or been unable—to pursue a fix that late in the morning.

My lucky day. Your loss.

When he stepped into the lift cage, all three men looked at him uncertainly. Terry scratched the back of his neck. “No one’s ever been down there.”

“I have. It’s okay. Really.”

The trio thought this over, their eyes drifting between Jackson and the lift. He tensed when Terry eyed the cell Jackson had languished in. “It’s not safe,” he concluded. The comment sounded automatic, like the compulsion it surely was.

“We’ll be fine.Theytold me to come,” Jackson said, hoping that “not safe” referred totheirsafety, not the safety of the vampires sleeping deep beneath their feet, who were definitelynotso safe once he got down there.

The reminder of his supposed orders galvanized his helpers. Carl spat out a stream of tobacco juice. “Guess we better get going, then.”

The lift sagged a little as they piled in. The motor ground to life above their heads and spewed oil-scented fumes that merged with the pong of warm male bodies in too-close quarters. Tension built like pressure with every foot they dropped, and the men held the overwhelming darkness at bay by keeping their flashlights trained on the coarse walls sliding up around them.

When the lift slowed and halted, they were surrounded by solid rock on three sides and nothing on the fourth. Jackson sucked in a breath. Without the electric lights in the hallway beyond this vestibule, the darkness was thick enough to cut. Thick enough to eat their lights. Thick enough to nurture things that could not abide the sun—maybe even at this time of day.

Shoving that grim possibility out of his mind, he opened the gate.

“I don’t like this,” Tim, the youngest of the trio, said.

“This won’t take long. And it gets better just past there.” Jackson walked through the arched passage to the underground compound’s central hall. The wooden floors and silk rugs, the chandeliers and tapestries were all still there, silently waiting for the true night to return.

Terry made a low whistle as he swung his light around, the beam refracting in the chandeliers. “Will you look at that?”

“Epic,” his brother concurred.

Carl spat his juice onto the polished wood beside the rug.