Drink Deep (Chicagoland Vampires 5)

certainly proved receptive to my position on vampires."

"So I've seen. I assume you're one of the brains behind the registration law?"

"I'm not a fan," he said.

"Real y? It seemed like keeping close tabs on our activities would be right up your al ey."

"That's only short-term thinking, Merit. If you al ow supernatural aberrations to register themselves, you condone their existence." He shook his head like a lecturing pastor. "No, thank you. That's a step in the wrong direction."

I wasn't real y eager to hear what McKetrick thought the

"right direction" for the city might be, but he didn't afford me the luxury of his silence.

"There's only one solution for the city - cleaning it out.

Ridding it of vampires. That solves the apocalypse problem. In order to clean up the city, we need a catalyst. If we rid the city of a vampire who's known to the public, we might be able to make some headway."

My stomach sanky slys. McKetrick wasn't just looking to kick vamps out of the city.

He wanted to exterminate them, starting with me.

With the gun pointed at me, I didn't have a lot of options. I couldn't grab my cel phone, and cal ing out for humans within hearing range would only put them in the line of fire. I couldn't take that risk. With my increased vampire strength, I might be able to best McKetrick in hand-to-hand combat, but he rarely traveled alone. He usual y came with a pack of equal y brawny guys in unrelieved black, and although I hadn't seen them yet, I couldn't imagine they weren't out there waiting for me.

So I opted to use one of my best talents - stubbornness.

"What exactly do you think taking me out is going to accomplish? You're only going to piss off vampires and incite humans who don't want murder in their city."

McKetrick looked hurt by the accusation. "That's incredibly na?ve. Sure, there may be a few in Chicago who don't realize the breadth of the vampire problem. But that's what this is al about. People need something to ral y around, Merit. You're the ral ying point."

"You mean the ashes I'l become? You know that's al that wil be left, right? A cone of ashes, there on the sidewalk." I gestured down to the concrete below us. "It's not as if you'l be standing over the dead body of a fal en vampire. Believe me - I've seen it."

I said a silent prayer of apology to Ethan's memory for my cal ousness, but given the twitch in McKetrick's jaw, I kept going. "It'l look more like you emptied a vacuum cleaner than staked a vampire, and that's not exactly going to make great television. You aren't even at the front lines."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means there's a mess of humans outside Cadogan House right now protesting our existence, and the National Guard is on its way. Why aren't you out there with them?

Getting to know them? Recruiting like-minded souls? Oh," I said, nodding my head. "I get it. You don't real y like people any more than you like vampires. You just like playing the hero. Or what you imagine to be a hero. I personal y don't think genocide is terribly heroic."

He slapped me across the cheek hard enough to make my head ring, and I immediately tasted blood.

"I wil not," he menacingly said, stepping even closer to me, "let some little fanged bitch turn me from my mission."

My anger - aided by my knife-edge hunger - began to spread through my limbs in a gloriously warm rush that pushed the chil from my bones.

"Your mission? Your mission is murder, McKetrick, plain and simple. Let's not forget that. And I'd reckon that what you know about me - or vampires - would fit on the head of a pin."

"Check the sky," he said, pushing the barrel of the gun into my chest. "You think that doesn't have something to do with you?"

"Actual y, it has nothing to do with us," I told him, but spared him the details about the other groups it might have had something to do with. There was no point in putting them on McKetrick's radar, too.

"How could it not have something to do with you? What else could be responsible for this?"

"Global warming?" I suggested. "Have you recycled today?"

That earn="3"

"You're a sadist," I spat out.

"No," he patiently said, "I'm a realist. You make me violent. You make me fight a war I shouldn't have to fight."

"Blaming the victim is so last year," I told him. I braced for a kick, but nothing came. Instead, he crouched down on his knees, his brows furrowed in concern.

"You don't understand."

"I do. You're an egoist, and you think you know more than anyone else in Chicago. But real y, McKetrick, you're an ignorant coward. You're fighting to take away our rights, and we're the ones trying to solve the problem. Your ego has blinded you. I feel sorry for you, actual y."

That was apparently the end of his patience. He stood up again, stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Two men in black fatigues ran toward us. One pointed another wide-barreled gun at me, while the other wrenched me to my feet and pul ed my arms behind my back.

I cursed him - loudly - and stomped on his foot, but McKetrick's barrel at my chin was a pretty good deterrent for more violence.

"Put her in the vehicle," McKetrick said. "We'l take her back to the facility."

Seeing "the facility" would definitely help me close McKetrick's operations, but it seemed unlikely I'd ultimately survive the visit. Getting into that car was a death sentence, so I fought with al my might. I squirmed in the goon's arms, and as he struggled to keep me upright, shifted my weight and kicked out at McKetrick's gun. It flew from his hand. He immediately went after it.

The goon's grip loosened in the chaos, and with a quick back kick to the jewels and a low roundhouse that connected squarely, I put him flat on his back.

"That's one of my favorite moves," I told him, thinking of a conversation Ethan and I'd had. Too bad I was fighting this one solo.

"Get her," McKetrick said, having plucked up the gun a few feet away and begun walking back to me, arms outstretched.

I turned to run and ran squarely into goon number two. I looked up at him, smiled a little, and offered another below-the-belt kick. This one was smart enough to anticipate the move. He blocked it, but he wasn't the first man who'd blocked one of my kicks. I ducked a punch, and while I was down pounded a fist into his shin. When he hopped in pain, I jumped up and executed a picture-perfect crescent kick that put him on the ground.

That was two goons on the ground with wel -executed kicks, but I didn't even have time to enjoy the victory before a jab to my kidney put me on the ground again.