“In short,” I said to Bones after I spent several fruitless hours scouring the Internet for more information, “we’re screwed. Barbara always picks up the briefcase in front of the S4-A storage igloo, but that doesn’t mean it’s the entrance to the underground compound. That could be anywhere underneath three thousand acres of swamp, forest, and brush, and we can’t go there ourselves to narrow its location by listening for thoughts.”

After all, this wasn’t located in a city like Madigan’s lab in Charlottesville. There, it wouldn’t be unusual for vampires to frequent the vicinity. Hunters and wannabe cryptids might be able to stroll around the McClintic Wildlife Management area without arousing suspicion, but no self-respecting vampire would shoot animals for sport. Neither would one chase after a supernatural creature that didn’t exist.

“If this place has security like the Tennessee compound,” I continued in frustration, “infrared alarms will go off if anyone with a body temperature lower than ninety-six degrees enters the preserve. And if those alarms triggered an instant explosion, well . . . they don’t call it the TNT area for nothing.”

No one would find that unusual, only unfortunate. Madigan had the perfect cover with this facility.

“Send Fabian to scout it,” Ian suggested, referring to the ghost I was friends with.

I gave him a sour look. “It’s worth a shot, but I doubt the most important place in Madigan’s scheme to create partly undead supersoldiers is also the only place he didn’t ghostproof.”

Bones tapped his chin, his silence acknowledging his agreement. Then, with a twisted smile, he tossed me my purse.

“You’re friends with the only vampire in the world who can beat infrared sensors, and he’s explosion-proof to boot.”

I thought he muttered, “More’s the pity” after that statement, but I was too excited to chide him.

Vlad! With his pyrokinesis, he was warmer than most humans, and that same ability also rendered him fireproof. I dug my phone out of my purse and dialed Vlad’s cell.

Daca nu este ceva important, nu lasati mesaj si nu sunati din nou, a recorded male voice answered, followed by the English translation of “If this isn’t important, don’t leave a message and don’t call back.”

No one ever accused Vlad the Impaler of being too charming. I left an urgent message with both mine and Bones’s cell number before I hung up.

“Okay, that’s done. Now, let’s find Fabian and get him to check out the McClintic Wildlife preserve, just in case.”

Fabian du Brac had been forty-five when he died, and his longish brown hair was still drawn back in a style that went out of fashion over a century ago. His sideburns and clothes also marked him as from another era, but it was his somber blue eyes that I focused on now. Before he even spoke, they told me that he didn’t have good news.

“There is indeed a large, active facility deep beneath a section of the McClintic Wildlife Management area, but I don’t know where the entrance is. The entire facility is covered by a barrier I cannot penetrate and no one has left it the entire time I’ve been there.”