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the Port of Baltimore. Their report triggered our flags in the system,” Griff said to Zach. “When we get an alert like that, you’ll call and tell their superiors to seal off the scene until you and Cade can get there. We have priority commands for every branch of the federal government.”
    Zach suddenly felt like he was in grade school again. He could have sworn Griff was talking slower than normal for his benefit.
    “What did they find?”
    “We’ll see for ourselves,” Cade said. There was no change in his tone, but again, Zach caught a distinct undercurrent of impatience.
    Cade crossed the room. Even walking, the vampire moved impossibly fast. Zach hurried to follow.
    Cade hit a stone in the wall at the far end of the Reliquary. The concrete slid back as if on wheels, and revealed another hidden door.
    “How many of these things do you have in here?”
    “I’ve never counted,” Cade said, and slipped into the passage.
    Zach looked back at Griff. “What, that’s it? That’s all the training and orientation? Now you just expect me to go after him?”
    “Nature of the job,” Griff said. “You hit the ground running.”
    “Fantastic. Any advice, then?” Zach said it with heavy sarcasm, but Griff appeared thoughtful before he answered.
    “He’s smarter than you, stronger than you, and he was eating people over a century before you were born,” Griff said. “He’ll try to dominate you. It’s nothing personal. Just how he sees us. Don’t let him.”
    “Don’t let him?”
    “He can’t touch you, Zach. It’s his job to keep you safe. Push back.”
    Griff returned to the papers in front of him.
    “That’s a big help,” Zach muttered. Then he followed the vampire into the dark.
     
     
    THE TUNNEL SMELLED like a YMCA locker room. Small electric bulbs wired to the ceiling provided dim light. Zach had never thought of himself as claustrophobic, but the roof was barely over his head, and he and Cade had to walk single file to get through.
    “Where the hell are we?”
    “You don’t know? You worked for the White House.”
    “You learn something new every day. Apparently.”
    “Washington, D.C., was designed by a Masonic architect, Pierre-Charles L’Enfant, at the direction of Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton. They included a series of secret tunnels, which have been updated every few decades, ever since. We can get into the Metro from here—even all the way down to Virginia.”
    “Masons?” Zach snorted. “Please don’t tell me you think there’s a conspiracy to take over the U.S. government.”
    “Eight.”
    “What?”
    “At last count, there were eight allied groups of conspirators working to assume control of the U.S. government,” Cade said. “Those are just the major players, of course.”
    “Oh, of course.”
    There was a scrabbling in the corner of the tunnel. Zach made a face.
    “Jesus Christ. A master’s in public policy, and I’m walking around the sewers with rats.”
    Zach kept talking, if for no other reason than to drown out the sound of little feet. “So. You’re a good vampire. How’d that happen?”
    “There is no such thing as a good vampire, Mr. Barrows,” Cade said.
    “But you’re—”
    “Trust me on that.”
    Whatever, Zach thought. Out loud, he tried a different tack. “Have you really been doing this for a hundred and forty years?”
    “Yes.”
    Zach waited. Nothing else.
    “What does that make me, your manservant? Should I pop down to the animal shelter and pick up a cat for dinner?”
    Cade moved.
    One moment a step ahead of Zach, the next a dozen feet away.
    In a flash, Zach realized why people believed vampires could turn to mist.
    Cade faced Zach. In his hand, a rat struggled.
    Cade brought it to his mouth, fangs bared, and snapped his jaws shut. Blood spurted, and he sucked on the writhing animal like a kid with a milk shake.
    Zach tasted lunch at the back of his throat. He swallowed hard.
    Cade tossed the dead rat away and wiped his