The Drinker of Blood

Chapter Sixteen

I decided to drive to New York City rather than to fly, and I took Rohan's high-end Jaguar for the remarkable way the seats made my ass feel. I liked my new Audi, but the Jag simply was a cut or three above.

Because of my scant need for rest, I managed to make the trip from Chicago in short order. And I soon was situated in a reasonable room about eight blocks from where I knew Whitefarrow hung his hat. His security might be tight, but he was one fellow it was never hard to find.

My first action upon settling into my accommodations was to contact Fallon and to arrange a reunion. Best to do that before anyone knew to look for me in the city. My enemy was ruthless, and this was the best way to see my young friend while ensuring her safety.

I should have refrained from seeing her entirely. It is with the deepest shame and utmost pain that I admit to any weakness, but things had not gone well with Freya-Lynn and I on our last meeting. She broke down in tears several times on our drive home from Kenilworth. It soon had become clear that the fear she felt was not of her kidnappers. She feared me. Not long after I left her, she texted and informed me she couldn't see me again.

I didn't blame her for any of it. I hoped that one day she might relent, somehow see herself clear to forgive me, but I was not certain she would. Some people simply did not have the heart to look at a creature like me without quailing. And what can I say? She was right.

I thought to see Fallon just once to help me get my bearings. We met at a tiny diner a few blocks from her home, chatted, laughed, and caught up. I hungered for her warmth and thirsted for her society at that point far more than I craved her body. And our reunion was more splendid than I could have hoped.

Afterward, I walked her back to her door, bid her to be careful in the city, and promised her I would again contact her when my business in the area was completed. She left me with the most loving kiss.

I then spent the rest of the night prowling around the city, checking in on the properties I knew to belong to my enemy through his many companies, and getting a feel for the security in each location, especially in the lofty office building that was the nerve center and headquarters of his many undertakings, a place called Centrix Tower. It had been many years, and my study of the man and his affairs was as uptodate as I could make it.

First and foremost, I needed to figure out how to get past the man's security. He was guarded night and day, and in recent years had seldom left his headquarters building.

I wasn't worried about threats from my fellow blood drinkers. My kind tended to be fickle in their allegiances. If what Rohan had told me was true—and I rather suspected it was—there was no great love for the fellow among our kind. Like Marion, Whitefarrow no doubt had a few young and naïve hangers on, but few other blood drinkers would take any significant risks on the man's behalf.

No. My enemy's personal security was provided primarily by normal humans, most of whom were security professionals. Most of those would have little idea what Whitefarrow was. That might work for me or against me. Professionals rely on their reputations, which means they're willing to take great risks to keep their charges safe.

But human beings have families.

Did I want to identify the key people in my enemy's security detail, inform them of the true nature of their employer, and if necessary threaten their families? No, not really. But I think you've guessed by now that it wouldn't trouble my conscience to do so.

I needed more information. One way or the other, I needed to see inside my enemy's organization, to get a handle on what went on there and to assess its strengths and vulnerabilities. Eventually, I'd need to seek the help of people close to Whitefarrow.