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CHAPTER ELEVEN

ZAND

M y armored SUV drove through the darkness of pre-dawn Chicago.

Josh guided us through empty streets. Chanel sat in the backseat beside me, staring out the window.

Her reflection occasionally caught the glow of passing streetlights.

I wondered what she was thinking. Did she have any idea where we were going or what awaited us?

She didn’t. This excursion was something she couldn’t even imagine.

She would either love it or be repulsed.

“We’re heading west.” Chanel observed, breaking the silence. “Away from the lake.”

I nodded, watching the industrial landscape gradually replace the sleek downtown buildings. “It’s not far now.”

Josh met my eyes in the rearview mirror. I gave him a barely perceptible nod. He knew tonight was different. Tonight, I was on the verge of crossing a line I’ve been hesitant to cross. I was bringing Chanel directly into the darkness of my world.

The SUV slowed as we turned onto a narrow access road flanked by chain-link fences topped with razor wire.

Old streetlamps shined faded yellow pools across the cracked concrete sidewalks.

The buildings in this area were old, utilitarian structures of brick, glass, and metal.

Unmarked facades and blacked-out windows obscured their purposes.

“AV Enterprises.” Chanel read from a small, discreet sign as we pulled up to one such building. “Is this one of your companies?”

“It’s a business I own.” I replied, unbuckling my seatbelt. “I have my irons in many fires.” I had made a little joke, but she didn’t get it yet.

I was a vampire that owned a crematorium.

The place didn’t look particularly ominous from the outside.

It was just another nondescript building in a manufacturing zone where very few questions were asked as long as you paid your property taxes and insurance.

Behind its walls, however, there were a few secrets humans would never know.

Josh parked near a side entrance in a place that wasn’t visible from the main road. He turned off the engine. “Do you want me to wait here, sir?” He asked

“Yes. Josh, thank you. We won’t be long” I opened my door and helped Chanel from the vehicle. There was a faint smell of smoke and chemicals that permeated this part of the city.

I guided Chanel toward the rear entrance.

I kept close to her by placing my hand at the small of her back.

A security camera tracked our approach. The back door buzzed open before we reached it.

I felt the subtle shift in Chanel’s posture.

There was a slight tensing of her muscles, and a quickening of her breath as we stepped inside the doorway of AV Enterprises.

The interior was intentionally mundane. The reception area featured bland, office-standard furniture.

There was a desk with a computer, a few chairs, generic and landscape prints on the walls.

There was a precision to everything in the room.

The freshly waxed floors, the faint smell of industrial bleach and the absolute absence of dust or debris made everything look legit.

A door opened at the far end of the room, and Virgil emerged.

He was a tall, lean man with close-cropped gray hair and skin the color of well-oiled mahogany.

Despite appearing to be in his sixties, he moved like a much younger man.

His movements betrayed his true nature to those who knew what to look for.

“Mr. Valentine.” He greeted me respectfully, then he turned to Chanel. “And you must be Ms. Taylor. It’s a pleasure to have you visit our little establishment.”

Chanel offered her hand, which Virgil took with care. I recognized the cautious pressure of a vampire touching fragile human flesh. “Nice to meet you,” Chanel said. She studied Virgil with the sharp gaze that rarely missed anything.

“Virgil has been with me for many years.” I explained as I watched the subtle interaction between them. It was that thing that Black people did when they met each other for the first time. “He oversees this facility and ensures our privacy.”

“Among other things.” Virgil added with a smile that was genuine as his loyalty to me. He turned back to me. “Everything is prepared for you.”

“Thank you.” I scanned the room, noting the cameras positioned discreetly in each corner. “We won’t need any documentation tonight.”

Virgil nodded with the understanding that my instruction was to disable the surveillance cameras.

“Of course.” He moved to a panel on the wall. He punched in a code that caused the small red lights on the cameras to blink off.

Chanel watched our exchange carefully without saying a word. I knew she was absorbing every detail. Her stillness was deceptive. I could almost hear her mind working, processing, analyzing everything that she was witnessing.

“Your package arrived a few hours ago.” Virgil said, his voice pitched low despite the privacy. “I kept a close eye. The serum appears to be working exactly as Ivanova described.”

“Good.” I felt Chanel’s questioning gaze but didn’t see the need to feel her in at this time.

Virgil checked his watch. “If there’s nothing else you need from me?”

“No, I think I can handle everything for now.”

“Good, my show starts in ten minutes.”

“The one with the doctors?” I asked, familiar with his routine.

“Yes sir. Tonight’s the season finale.” His enthusiasm seemed incongruous with the setting and circumstances, but I’ve learned that even immortals needed their distractions.

“Don’t let us keep you.” I said, moving toward the heavy steel door at the back of the room. It was reinforced with a keypad lock and what appeared to be a standard fire safety sign, but I knew what lied beyond was anything but standard.

“The door will lock automatically behind you.” Virgil reminded me. “Holla, if you need anything.” With that, he disappeared back through the door he came from. He left us alone in the reception area.

I turned to Chanel. I studied her face for any sign of hesitation or fear. I found only curiosity and determination.

“What is this place, really?” She asked.

I punched a code into the keypad, and the heavy door released with an inflated hiss. “It’s where I deal with problems that can’t be resolved any other way.” Yes, I was speaking in riddles, something I did from time to time.

“And what does that mean?”

“It’s better to show you.”

“Is that right?” She blew air from her mouth.

The door swung open, revealing a dimly lit staircase descending into darkness. Cold air rushed up to meet us, carrying the faint dusty scent of the basement below.

“And is that why we’re here tonight?” Chanel asked. “To deal with a problem?”

I took her hand, feeling the clamminess of her fingers against my palm. “Yes.”

Chanel’s eyes were curious. There was no shock, no horror, or an ounce of fear. I’d chosen well. Or did she choose me? The woman beside me was a potential vampire queen in the making. Vampire, no, she was human. Why did I think that?

“Follow me.” I said, taking the first step down into the darkness with Chanel one step behind me.

The staircase descended in a tight spiral. The temperature dropped, and it was for good reason. Chanel’s hand remained steady in mine, her grip neither tightening from fear nor slackening with doubt. I watched her profile in the dim light, searching for any hesitation, but found only curiosity.

“The cold helps preserve them.” I explained as we reached the bottom. “Vampires and humans alike.”

The basement stretched out before us. It was clinically lit with recessed fluorescent fixtures that cast no shadows.

There were stainless steel tables, cabinets, and instruments arranged with surgical precision.

Along one wall stood a row of refrigeration units, their contents hidden behind heavy doors.

The opposite wall housed something that resembled an industrial oven, though its purpose was far more specific.

“It smells like a hospital down here.” Chanel observed.

“Formaldehyde, bleach, and something else.” I led her further into the room. “There is something special here today.”

“Is this a morgue?”

“It’s a crematorium.”

“Why are we in a crematorium?”

“It’s one of the businesses I own.” I explained.

“Why would you want to own this?”

“In my current state. I’ve grown fascinated by death.”

“Your current state?”

“You know fangs, undead.”

“Oh, you’re a vampire.” She said it like she’d forgot. I was flattered by this.

We moved toward the wall at the furthest end of the room, where a stone bed sat elevated on a metal platform. Secured to its surface with multiple reinforced straps, laid Marisol Lopez.

“This is your gift.” I said while I looked down at Chanel to gage her reaction.

“Is she— dead?” She asked.

“Not yet.”

Marisol’s eyes followed our approach. It was the only part of her that could move.

The rest of her body remained perfectly still, held immobile by both the restraints and the serum coursing through her system.

Her skin had taken on a grayish pallor, and beneath it, faint orange traces of the serum pulsed under her flesh.

“Her eyes are open. Can she see us?” Chanel asked.

“I believe so. This technology is new.”

“Can she hear us?” She had more questions for me.

“She can see us. But she can’t move or speak. The effect of the serum is wearing off. I was told she will gain mobility in her face first and then slowly she will move her fingers and toes, then she will eventually regain mobility in all her limbs and get her strength back.”

Chanel stepped closer to Marisol’s lifeless body and studied her condition.

There was no triumph in her expression, no gloating over her enemy.

Her cool assessment reminded me why I was so drawn to her.

Marisol’s eyes widened slightly, recognition and hatred flaring within them as she registered Chanel’s presence.