Scene set up: Bill Gannon in car with a minor-minor character, Cooper. This is the fourth book, so just sit back and read it for what it is. The backpack belongs to Sabrina who has lost it in a scuffle with vampires in Garden of the Gods, Colorado.
Bill tossed him the backpack. Cooper caught it.
“Let's get in and find the vampire's lair on the GPS.”
Both men slid into the front seat of Bill's white SUV. Bill turned the engine over and brought up the in-dash monitor.
“Give me the address of the vampire who lives in the area,” Bill asked.
“Twenty-one eleven, Rampart Range,” Cooper said.
Bill looked at him. “You're sure? You don't have to consult a note pad or something?”
“Nope. I've got a steel trap for a memory. Go ahead and put it in. You'll see.
Bill punched in the address. It took only a moment before the site map came up. The roads that lead out of this area of The Springs curved and wound and had dozens of switchbacks.
“Mountain roads,” Bill muttered as he magnified the area. He put it into the satellite mode to see the terrain. “Definitely mountain road.”
“This road goes for miles through mountains,” Cooper said as he unzipped the backpack. “It meanders through Pike National Forest. I think it might eventually go to Denver.”
“Not interested in that. But if that's the correct address, his house is right there, on this curve of road.” He tapped the screen with a fingernail. “A lot of switchbacks . . .” Bill trailed off.
Cooper, meanwhile, had unzipped the backpack and discovered Sabrina's purse. He pulled it out, using the driver's side light to investigate the bag further.
“Hey, you'd better leave that stuff alone.” Bill grabbed Sabrina's purse from the lid of the console.
“Wow.” Cooper's word came on a chuckle. “Your intended bride is into weaponry, I see.” He pulled out a dagger in a fancy black leather sheath.
“What are you doing? I told you to leave that alone.”
“Just curious,” Cooper said.
The dagger wiggled out of its sheath on its own accord, drawing both men's undivided attention as it hovered momentarily in mid air. Then, it darted forward and jammed into Cooper's chest between the fourth and fifth ribs.
Cooper's scream startled Bill more than anything. A memory quickly surfaced. It was something taught to Bill at a very early age. He had thought that the story of The Dagger of Delphi was a myth, told to scare young apprentices in the Nephilistic League of Young Men.
Automatically Bill exited the car, and shut the door, and for an extra precaution, he hit the remote lock. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone. With a thumb he went to his #10 contact, and hit SEND.
It rang several times, and it went to voice mail—which was what he was told it would do—while Bill passively watched the scene inside his white Escalade. Now the interior was no longer pristine white, but blood spattered. The window was smeared with a bloody hand print. Cooper twisted in the seat, trying, to no avail, to pull the dagger from his chest, and illicit Bill's help.
Bill knew better. To help Cooper now would mean his own death. The Dagger of Delphi would seek all which it deemed its enemies—which were all the Nephilistic race, as well as vampires and demons. Nope, he'd remain here, thank you.
When he got the tone he spoke his message: “Cooper has been killed by the Dagger of Delphi. Repeat: Dagger of Delphi exists! I've left the vehicle in the parking lot of The Garden of the God's Trading Post, in Colorado Springs. You'll have to send in non-Nephilistics to do clean up.” He looked at his Rolex watch. His father was in Madrid Spain. This message would get to him automatically. But those who were part of the HAZMAT team would be sent here post haste.
Cooper had become quiet. He was dead, now. Bill was certain of it. Stupid son of a bitch! “It's eight-forty two o'clock, mountain time,” he went on with his message. “I'm calculating that it will be several hours before his body has turned to dust. You'll want to have the car towed away before its discovered . . . it's rather a mess inside, and I know you don't want anyone to see it. Especially the police.”
Bill hit END, and strode away. For him to chance being seen now was quite dangerous. Especially since the Albino was known to be in these parts. The Undead couldn't resist a soul from a Nephilic being. He scrolled to his car rental number. Always open. He wondered how fast they could get him an SUV, as he headed down the road, toward town.