Later that night, inside the abandoned apartment, Sawyer sat up on the edge of the mattress and stared at a damp patch in the corner of the ceiling while Ashley went out to grab fresh supplies. Turns out that even as a vampire, you needed to eat.

  During that time, he showered, changed, and reviewed what Ashley told him. His new life was one of darkness. The sun was now the enemy. LED lights were good. The sun was bad, so bad it could burn you at the best of times and disintegrate you in seconds at the worst of times. Sunlamps, UV lamps, and consecrated light were all fatal. Running into holy water was rare, but could also be deadly.

  Traveling outside the apartment meant sticking to a new set of rules. He would sleep during the day and hunt for his Cormac during the night. He hadn’t returned to the apartment so it was likely he was searching for him.

  The fan groaned overhead and swayed slightly from the rust. The smell of jungle rot curled through the cracked windows and mixed with the odor of sweat. Somewhere beyond the wall, the city of Colón moved with its usual stuttering rhythm. Mopeds sped through alleys. Dogs snarled at each other for scraps. A distorted bachata melody played from a stereo down the block. But inside his own mind? It was like a circus.

  Cormac was gone. Most likely, he could have been searching for Sawyer, but more likely he chartered a ride back to the states. He really didn’t want to believe what that little voice was telling him. Cormac was dead. He never should have stolen that scooter and ridden after Ashley, leaving his brother behind. And now—he was a blood sucking monster. And to top it off, the girl he flew to Panama for was only using him to locate the Black Ledger. They were seventeen steps backwards and Sawyer desperately needed a win. He needed to find Cormac.

  Ashley entered the apartment carrying a handful of grocery bags.

  “Ready?” she said, slipping past him. She sat the groceries down, then approached the window and peered out into the darkness toward the ocean.

  “Where did you go?”

  “I grabbed some pocket change from a couple tourists and then bought us some food.”

  She flashed a thick green wallet that clearly wasn’t hers and peeled it open. It was stuffed with twenty dollar bills, United States currency.

  “The CIA doesn’t pay you enough?” Sawyer asked.

  “It’s not that…I don’t know…I guess I have a bit of a problem.”

  “Hey, I’m not judging you. I used to steal bundles of cash from opium dens in Kabul and blew it all at the bar. We should go. It’s late and the market will probably close soon.”

  She chuckled. “The Mercado Municipal never closes.”

  After grabbing a quick bite to eat, they fleeted down the streets of Colón. Before going directly to the market, they circled half the city. They checked everywhere from the stinky sewers by the canal wall to the old fishing docks beside the shanties. They couldn’t find Cormac. What scared him was the possibility that one of the countless monsters in Panama may have dragged him into its nest. Cormac was an experienced Army Ranger, but Panama wasn’t Afghanistan.

  They soon arrived at the market. Before entering, they scouted the area.

  Ashley paced across the dirt. They watched cloaked figures flow in and out of El Mercado Municipal. She hadn’t spoken in a while. The silence built its own pressure. Her jaw was clenched tight. Her hands shook ever slightly. Was it adrenaline or hunger? Sawyer looked down at his own hands. The bloodlust hadn’t gone away. He knew that look. Her fingers trembled, and so did his. They weren’t just vampires, they were junkies for blood. The binding spell had done its work to keep him from losing control and transforming into a feral vampire, but the ugly reality of his hunger deepened by the minute. His thirst for blood was written into him like permanent code etched into his bones. His teeth throbbed. His pupils refused to shrink. His tongue felt dry.

  “I’m starving,” Sawyer said. He licked his lips.

  Ashley stopped pacing. “You’re running hot. Me, too. We’ll find some inside.”

  “How long can I starve before I go full jungle freak?”

  “A couple days if you’re lucky. If you don’t feed, it will get worse over time. You’ll experience hallucinations, muscle failure, and then you’ll rage out into a frenzy and kill until you can’t anymore. You’ll overfeed and kill more than you intended, it’s like an uncontrollable high. Believe me, you don’t ever want that to happen.”

  “Harland did this to me…”

  “Yes, but you also did this to yourself.”

  Sawyer stepped up to her, fists clenched. “Don’t say that.”

  A slight smile curved her lips. “Relax, Sawyer. You need blood. So do I—I feel it the same as you.”

  He let out a dry laugh. “You have a hookup we can use?”

  “Yes, inside the market. Just don’t eat me before we get there.”

  “How do you handle the hunger?”

  She flashed him the wallet she procured earlier. “Paper or plastic, usually. But Panama is filled with scumbags I use as bloodbags. I just pick from the rotten litter, they all taste the same to me. If I have my choice, I pick the one with the whitest teeth.”

  “You look at their teeth?”

  “Good hygiene is important to me.”

  “You sound way too casual about this.”

  “As I said, you get used to it.”

  “Okay—enough waiting. I need to eat.”

  They slipped into the market. There were packed crowds, a couple thousand people. There were other vampires too, who could sense their presence and weren’t shy. They flashed their fangs as they passed. They, too, were there for their own needs. There was no point in intervening. Sawyer’s mind, too, was squarely on the business of finding that sweet liquid.

  The air outside the night market was thick with exhaust and the scent of grilled meat. The city’s humidity didn’t let up but the cover of night gave him some comfort. They walked fast and maneuvered through the crowded stalls and alleys, trying to find the right one. His body coiled naturally like he was hunting. Inside the hellscape of free trade and mysticism stitched together, fluorescent bulbs flickered above meat stalls and vendors yelled in tongues. Some offered powder and charms. But that wasn’t what he needed.

  Where was it?

  They passed a blind man hissing sales pitches in three languages. A pair of white robed men whispered over a basin of animal bones and melted wax. Then Ashley took a hard turn through a corridor of plastic tarps and sagging electric cords. The smell changed, it was less like vinegar and more like copper. They stepped into a tent lit by a single red bulb.

  As they went inside the tent, Sawyer was surprised to see that the woman inside was beautiful in a way that demanded caution. She was tall and olive skinned with dark eyes and a crimson veil drawn across her mouth. She sat behind a low counter surrounded by melting candles and humming generators. The air smelled of iron and burning wicks. Her fingers were stained with henna or something darker.

  Ashley gave her a nod.

  The woman reached under the counter and brought out a large white cooler. She sat it on the counter in front of them. Inside, the bags of blood gleamed like rubies. They were neatly arranged beside frozen packs of ice. Each had one polaroid taped to it with a face. There were males, females, young and old. They had pale skin and lifeless eyes. A few of the faces had dirt clinging to their necks and cheeks.

  “What is this?” Sawyer asked, voice low.

  “Tributes,” the woman said. “From Harland Morrow’s war. They die in combat and I’m called to extract the blood for a fee. Since the war has escalated, we never run out of supply.”

  Sawyer blinked. “There’s no war in Panama.”

  The woman didn’t move. “The media doesn’t report on it. But it’s happening—most of it deep in the Darién.”

  Ashley grabbed two blood bags. “Type O. It’s clean and powerful.”

  “Two hundred dollars each,” the vendor said. She lifted a lacquered box to accept the bills.

  Sawyer stared at the polaroids again. “What kind of war is it? Why are they fighting?”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Ashley didn’t look at him. She fished out the bills from the wallet she’d stolen earlier. “The kind of war that doesn’t end with peace treaties. It’s fought in the jungle, mostly. It’s a proxy war between BlackDiamond and various government organizations. Sometimes other corporations. They’re fighting for access to land routes and the acquisition of technology, mostly.”

  Sawyer glanced at the woman with the veil. “Should we be speaking about this here?”

  “She already knows. To her, this is old news. Isn’t that right, Valaria?”

  “That’s right, darling. War in Panama is the way of things.”

  They paid, filled their flasks, and drank the sweet nectar of life.

  The first swallow hit like morphine. Warmth spread through Sawyer’s chest. The burning ache behind his eyes faded. Sawyer’s lungs felt like they’d opened for the first time and he could breathe again. He finished his bag in under a minute. Ashley drank slower, more controlled. He could see the same relief in her eyes, the same savage satisfaction.

  “I hate that I like this.”

  Ashley shrugged. “You seriously don’t know about the war?”

  “Not really. Panama isn’t my area of expertise.”

  He glanced at Valaria. She gave a polite nod and walked into the back room.

  “It’s not happening everywhere,” Ashley said. “But it’s happening. There’s outposts, tribes, scattered cells. Most of the fighters are human, but some are not. I was close to finding some real answers until you showed up and ruined my progress. My bridge with BlackDiamond is burned.”

  “Don’t put this on me. You could have just let me die and you would have never blown your cover.”

  “They were going to bury you alive. I may be a vampire, but I’m not evil. You would have gone feral in that coffin and died a very painful death.”

  “That’s a hard one to wrap my mind around. Still, you made your choice just like I did to come after you.”

  She looked down at her feet, then back up at him. “Maybe we should get out of here.”

  “Yeah.”

  They left the tent and wandered through the deeper corridors of the market. It was quiet and the blood hummed inside his veins. He felt sharper and awake, like he’d just woken up and had the best workout of his life. Everything moved slower and made more sense. It was like the world was born anew in his eyes. The strange black veil started to lift and that’s also what made it all terrifyingly real. He couldn’t just look at a tent and not think something evil was happening inside. And he knew that by being a vampire, he, too, was evil. And he really really didn’t want to be like that.

  “Tell me about Harland,” Sawyer said. “Where can I find him?”

  “You’re lucky to have run into him at all,” Ashley said. “He usually keeps to himself at one of his hidden compounds deep in the Darién Gap. It’s ‘where all the action is’ he says. And he loves to keep a close eye on the war. He often participates, just for the sport of it. He’s the most dangerous vampire in the region.”

  His scars weren’t there on his neck anymore, because they healed already, but he pointed to his neck where they had been. “How do I reverse this? I’m not staying a vampire. You may like it, but I prefer my humanity.”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “What are you saying?”

  “There’s no simple way to cure vampirism. Not that I’ve ever known about. I’ve been a vampire for over a year and I’ve been searching for a way to reverse it, but so far I’ve only come across rumors and dead ends.”

  “Who turned you?”

  “Harland.”

  “That creep got you, too?”

  “Yep.”

  Sawyer sighed. “There has to be a way to reverse this. What have you heard?”

  “If it’s even possible, it requires a ritual and the proper spell components. The problem is, nobody knows the name of the ritual, the words to it, or the components required. It’s a dead end, Sawyer. It’s best to accept that you’re going to be stuck this way for a long time. Maybe forever.”

  “What do you mean, forever?”

  “Well, the ‘no aging’ thing is legitimate. I’ve run into some vampires who are hundreds of years old.”

  His heart sank and he wanted to vomit. “No sunlight…ever?”

  “It’s not all bad…there are hijabs. There are ways to travel even in the sunlight.”

  “What about the Black Ledger? Could there be instructions inside for reversing our vampirism?”

  She scratched the back of her neck. “Maybe. I was hoping there would be something in there. I’d have to look to see.”

  “So that’s why you want it so badly, huh?”

  “Yeah…that and it’s filled to the brim with a list; a kabal of satan worshipping corporate moguls that I’d like to scrub off the face of the Earth. One of them has to know how to reverse this vampirism. Wouldn’t that be like strawberry icing?”

  “I don’t know why you think I have the book. I don’t. I’m not kidding. If there is something inside my father’s book that can help us then I would be on my way to snatch it and fix this nightmare.”

  “I believe you. You spoke earlier about Colonel Bradford. I really think if anyone knows where it’s at, it’s going to be him. Like I said, I know him and your father were friends. Just call him. Tell him the truth.”

  “Are you kidding? If I told him about my fangs he would send a hit squad after me. My father hunted alongside him for some years and they killed monsters just like us.” Her lips parted to speak further—but he stopped himself once he heard distant shouting.

  Cormac’s voice tore through the Mercado like a warning bell. “Sawyer! Turn around!” Sawyer spun around just in time to Cormac barreling through the crowd with his M4 raised. He was soaked in sweat and there was blood on his sleeve. He stopped, aimed, and fired three shots toward Sawyer, who ducked behind a metal stall selling prayer beads. Ashley took cover behind a wooden cart on the opposite side of the path.

  Panamanian militia in long coats burst out from the alleyway behind him. They carried pistols with suppressors. Cormac’s bullets whizzed by Sawyer, missing him by inches, and struck one of the militia who dropped dead. Nearby civilians screamed and scattered. The militia fired back at Cormac, but missed and hit a fruit stall which exploded into bits of mango and kiwi. One woman fell, caught in the crossfire, shrieking as she bled from her leg.

  The militia wore buttoned olive garb. They also wore golden rings and chains. Some of their teeth were transplanted with platinum ones. Their eyes were black and they looked through everyone. They weren’t vampires, but they didn’t feel human. They displayed few emotions, snarling in anger and resentment as they fired upon Cormac and hit several citizens who blocked the path as if they weren’t there. Cormac fired back and killed three of them with precision shots.

  “Harland’s getting bold!” Ashley yelled, over the gunfire. Then she dove out from behind the wooden cart and launched herself at one soldier, flashed a silver dagger, and stabbed him in the heart. Just as quickly, she jumped toward the next soldier, slit open his stomach, and then kicked him back into a stall. The man crunched through the wood and screamed in agony.

  Sawyer unsheathed his .45 and planted three rounds into the closest soldier’s chest who buckled forward.

  His blood sang as the battle erupted. He ducked and reloaded his magazine. Silenced 9mm rounds pinged against the scrap metal he was hiding behind. A few of the rounds pierced through. Sawyer surged up and planted a round in a soldier’s neck. Blood streamed out and he fell choking. He cursed in Spanish then died.

  Three bullets smacked Sawyer in the back from another direction. It felt like someone jabbed him three times with a hot knife. “I’m hit!” he screamed, then ducked for cover.

  “I got him!” screamed Cormac, who fired a barrage with his M4, hitting the soldier in his chest and legs.

  Cormac ran over to Sawyer while reloading a fresh magazine while Ashley engaged fresh targets who appeared from random alleyways. At that point, she had picked up two of the fallen soldier’s silenced pistols and fired at the militia men who stormed in from multiple angles. He had never seen such precision. Her shots always found their target. She remained cool in the face of a hail of gunfire and shouting orders. Through the cracks in the metal sheeting, he watched as no less than twenty different bullets pounded into her chest and back as she fought, tearing her clothing, spattering blood, but it didn’t drop her or even slow her down. She just gritted her teeth and fired back.

  “I finally found you,” Cormac said to Sawyer. “This is worse than Kabul.”

  “Sorry I fled,” Sawyer said. “I had to go after Ashley.”

  “Well…you found her. And I finally found you.” Cormac grabbed Sawyer’s shoulders and inspected his wounds. “You’re shot up. Let me see the damage.”

  He lifted Sawyer’s shirt. “How—just how? I saw you take rounds.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “It’s…there’s not a single penetration wound. There’s minor bruising.” He examined further. “Were you wearing a plate carrier?”

  “No.”

  “How are you not dead, Sawyer?” Cormac looked genuinely stunned.

  “I’m into something deep,” Sawyer said. “It’s about the Black Ledger. Ashley is involved.”

  “Man…”

  He didn’t feel right about revealing to Cormac that he was a vampire, so he let that fact remain hidden for the time being.

  Ashley executed the last attacker with a flourish. She shot him point blank through the chin. The bullet exited through his skull and blood sprayed the tarp above.

  Silence returned.

  Sawyer’s chest heaved.

  Ashley returned to Sawyer and Cormac. She wiped her mouth. “This was a message from Harland Morrow. We’re burned, fellas.”

  “Ashley?” Cormac said. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

  She whispered in his ear. “A little place called the farm in Langley, Virginia.”

  “You’re CIA? Oh…that makes a lot of sense.”

  Cormac reloaded a fresh magazine. Somewhere behind them the Mercado flickered under the failing fluorescent lights. Somewhere far away, sirens wailed half-heartedly and unconcerned.

  Cormac smirked. “We came all the way out to Panama to stumble into a CIA op? What else is new?”

  Sawyer didn’t laugh.

  “So…we headed back to the apartment?” Cormac asked.

  Ashley nodded.

  Sawyer exhaled. “Let’s get out of here. There’s a lot we have to talk about…but it’s probably going to end with kicking down doors and bashing in heads.”

  “Now we’re speaking my language,” Cormac said.