On the back, written in permanent marker, were those seven digits she’d assumed were a telephone number.

Leaning down to the keypad, she entered them one by one, the bulky glove camouflaging how badly her hand was trembling.

Nothing happened.

As she waited, heart pounding and throat choked, sweat dripped into her eye, and she went to wipe it away, batting at the hood with the glove, making things worse—

Pound key.

When she punched the pound key, the little light turned from red to green and an air lock released.

A door-sized panel disappeared into the wall itself, revealing a shallow stainless steel room that was about ten feet long and five feet wide. Egg crates lined the floor and they were full of a disorderly supply of nonperishables: canned soup, boxes of pasta, cereals, bags of Doritos and pretzels. Shallow shelves mounted on the vertical held shampoo, soap, toilet paper, Kleenex.

The sliding door began to shut behind her and she caught it with her hand. There was another keypad on the inside, and although she considered propping things open, she was worried that an alarm would go off. She just had to take the chance the code would work on the exit.

Releasing the air intake connected at the back of the hazmat suit, she let the hose fall free and then she was closed in.

The second the door she’d come through relocked, another panel opposite from it slid back, revealing a bright white light.

Swallowing hard, she took two steps forward and then stopped in the doorway.

The wave of revulsion and indignation was so great, she nearly vomited.

Across a clinical space, in a large cage that had some kind of mesh around it, there was a figure dressed in what appeared to be a hospital johnny, lying on a pallet facing away from her. Some kind of water source was off to the side, hanging from a hook, and a tray of empty plates had been pushed out onto the floor through a trapdoor. Behind the cage, medical monitoring equipment beeped and whirred.

Sarah reached out blindly for the wall as the world listed on her—

What the hell? The walls and ceiling were covered by the same mesh as the cage. And the floor … oddly, the floor was stainless steel.

The patient in the cage sat up and turned toward her—and Sarah lost her breath as if struck in the chest.

It was a child. A frail, thin little boy.

Overcome with horror, Sarah stumbled forward. Fell to her knees. Slumped as the inner door slid back into place and locked them in together.

With hands that shook so badly it was as if she were having a seizure, she tore off the gloves. Ripped the hazmat suit’s hood off. Gasped for air.

As she looked up, she found that the child was staring across at her with wary eyes. But he didn’t make any sounds of protest, and he didn’t move from his spot on that pallet.

He had obviously learned that nothing he could do would stop what was being done to him. He was helpless. Trapped. At the mercy of those who had so much more power than he.

Minutes ticked by and the two of them continued to stare at each other, though the mesh made it hard to see him with total clarity.

“Are you here to give me my next shot?” he finally asked in a thin voice. “They said it would be at midnight. But it’s only ten.”

Two years since Gerry died. And they’d been experimenting back then. How long had they been torturing this child?

“Hello?” he said. “Are you okay? You’re not my normal technician.”

Sarah swallowed hard. The implications were so enormous they were incomprehensible. But rather than waste time sorting through the morass, she focused on the immediate issue.

“Sweetheart, I … I need to get you out of here. Right now.”

The child bolted to his feet. “Did my mother send you? Is she alive?”

At that moment, alarms started going off.

Murhder had done this mission before, and he was glad his practice run from twenty years ago had stuck with him even though two decades had passed between the infiltrations. He also had some serious backup this time: He, Xhex, and John had suited up with weapons and Kevlar that the couple had brought with them to her cabin in an SUV. And then they’d dematerialized, one by one, out of Caldwell, to this remote site in Ithaca.

Entry through the rooftop vents of the sprawling facility. Just like before. Interception of a security guard. Just like before.

It was then that he began deviating from the past. This time, he compelled the guard to take them down to the top secret part of the facility, a tour guide who had no will of his own.

So many unadorned corridors. So many unmarked doors in walls made of frosted glass.

So many security cameras.

Murhder had a handgun down by his side as he stayed behind the zombie guard. John was right beside him. Xhex was in the rear and walking backward, making sure no one came up on them. The research complex seemed vacant of clinicians and staff, a benefit to Sunday nights in the human world. There were people on-site, however—their scents were distant and dimmed by all the fake air being pumped in through the HVAC system, but Murhder’s vampire nose detected them.

As they came up to a branching of halls, the guard didn’t skip a beat. He went straight on, striding like an automaton.

Murhder glanced over at John. The male was totally focused, moving with sure footing, gun down at his thigh as well.

Eerie. Even though they’d just met, Murhder could have sworn that they had done this kind of thing together countless times.

John glanced over. Nodded—

And all hell broke loose.

From over on the left, a frosted glass door opened into the hall, and a human male in a suit with an open collared shirt stepped out. He appeared to be in his mid-sixties, with a full head of salt-and-pepper gray hair, a trim build, and eyes that had the dead sheen of sea glass.

The guard in the trance stopped, his training overriding even Murhder’s mind control.

“What’s going on here?” the man in the suit demanded.

With the kind of authority that suggested he owned the place.

Xhex was on it, jumping forward and shoving the muzzle of her gun into his throat as she twisted his arm around behind his back and cranked him into a hold.

“Stay quiet and I won’t shoot you,” she said in a quiet voice. “Dr. Kraiten.”

The man looked back at her and seemed to pale. “You.”

“Surprise. Didn’t think you’d see me again? Well, I’m back to finish what I started with your partner. Who knew I’d be this lucky and find you so soon.”

As Xhex spoke, her mate bared his fangs, John’s upper lip curling back like a wolf’s—and Murhder was tempted to let the pair of them do whatever they wanted to the guy. Clearly, Xhex was familiar with the human from her previous imprisonment, and it was hard not to argue with her right to ahvenge herself. But there was no time for that kind of delay.

“Walk on,” Murhder commanded the guard.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” the man in the suit—Dr. Kraiten?—said. “I will lock down this facility right now and—”

“Walk on,” Murhder snapped at the guard as he pointed his gun at the man in the uniform.

The guard winced like his temples were singing with pain. And then he turned away from his boss and continued onward. As they started forward once more, Dr. Kraiten’s words were cut off, no doubt from Xhex pushing that muzzle directly into his voice box.