The Vampire Agent by Patricia RosemoorThe Vampire Agent by Patricia Rosemoor

The Vampire Agent

byPatricia Rosemoor, Marc Paoletti

Mass Market Paperback | December 30, 2008

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On the sultry streets of New Orleans, Captain Scott Boulder and Leah Maguire are about to begin a deadly mission. The traumatized, genetically altered subjects of a Department of Defense experiment gone wrong have escaped, among them Rachel Ackart, a beautiful, seductive, and powerful woman–who is now under the dangerous influence of Andre Espinoza de Madrid, a vampire of incomparable evil and power.

While Predator drones circle above New Orleans, and the sound of Black Hawk helicopters rends the air, Scott and Leah must fight their growing attraction to each other as they pursue their quarry amid the haunted and the damned. But Rachel is one step ahead of them. Andre’s vampire agent will soon unleash the greatest terror of all.
Patricia Rosemoor writes about dangerous love–she’s the author of more than fifty paranormal thrillers and novels of romantic suspense. She has won a Golden Heart from Romance Writers of America, and Reviewers Choice and Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times Book Club. In her other life, she teaches in the fiction writing depar...
Title:The Vampire AgentFormat:Mass Market PaperbackDimensions:320 pages, 6.83 × 4.14 × 0.82 inPublished:December 30, 2008Publisher:Random House Publishing GroupLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0345501055

ISBN - 13:9780345501059


Read from the Book

PrologueMiescher LaboratoriesBayou Foncé, Louisiana, 2010“My name is Rachel Ackart,” she whispered, rockingon the edge of her bed, furtively peering into the cornersof her cell to make sure no one was there toeavesdrop.But, as always, the corners were empty of anythinghuman. She was alone, as she had been for most ofthe last year—eleven months, two weeks, four days,to be exact, if she could trust the scratches she’d madeon the wall, one for each day she’d been incarcerated.Not that military personnel didn’t spy on her via thecamera installed high in one corner of the room. Whythey needed to watch her 24/7 she didn’t know. Theyalready monitored her vital signs and brain wavesthrough implanted chips. Medical personnel were inand out multiple times a day to inject her with medsor take her blood. She even had a daily visit from aso-called psychiatrist.“Rachel Ackart . . . My name is Rachel Ackart. . . .”She kept saying her name over and over so shewould remember it. They’d pumped her up with somany damn drugs that she could hardly see straight.Let alone think.Let alone remember.She gazed at her reflection in the piece of medicalequipment that picked up her vitals and transmittedthem to some unknown lab. Her blond hair appeareddull . . . her blue eyes unnaturally pale. . . . Andweren’t those tiny lines she saw forming in her heretoforeflawless skin?Heat flooded her, and she shoved the equipmentaway so hard that it bounced off the wall.She’d gotten by all these years on accomplishmentsshe’d been allowed because of her youthful beauty,and now, despite all she’d done to keep her looks,they were fading and the memories of her triumphswere disjointed and incomplete.Forget remembering.Forget using her powers. . . .Rachel sprang off her bed and began pacing theperimeter of her cell. Undoubtedly her vital signswere bordering on explosive, alarming someone somewhere.They could descend on her at any momentand do whatever they wanted to her.For her own good, of course.She deserved better than this. After all she’d donefor her country, for the military, for the governmentcabal running the Black Ops scientific experimentsmeant to strengthen the armed forces, she deserved tobe treated with the respect she’d earned. She’d givenup her life in service to that science, and look howshe’d been rewarded.Betrayed by her own blood. Locked in an eight-bytencell. No windows. No mirrors. No fresh air.She clawed at her throat and gasped. If she didn’tget some air, she was going to suffocate. . . .They even buried their dead aboveground in thispart of Louisiana, but not their scientific rejects.Where there was a will there was a way, and the militaryalways found it. She was sequestered in an undergroundlabyrinth that should have been impossibleto build on land that was below sea level. Only thearmy had managed it somehow, and if the brass hadtheir way, she would never breathe that fresh air, neversee daylight again.Escape was the only solution. Her thoughtswhirled. Escape and then revenge.Realizing her head was actually clearer than it hadbeen in a long while, Rachel thought she must havebuilt up some immunity to the drugs. A little genesplicing had turned her mind into a powerful weapon,the reason they’d been pumping chemicals into her.They wanted to control her. To further use her as aguinea pig. Her pulse threaded unevenly as she realizedshe had an opportunity to test her mental boundaries,maybe find some way of getting out of this damn hole.She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to touchevery inch of the room. But after several minutes ofsearching, she found nothing she would consider areal weakness.Concentrating, she cast her net wider. She mightnot be able to leave the room physically, but thatdidn’t mean she couldn’t use her mind to search for away out. If she found someone susceptible to suggestion,perhaps she could convince the person to openher door. Using frequencies the damn lab machinescouldn’t detect, she sent tentacles of mental energy inconcentric circles that swept through the undergroundcomplex and beyond.Suddenly, a male voice saying “Rachel, I can helpyou . . .” made her jam her back to the wall.She looked around wildly, but, as always, she wasalone in the room. The voice had filled her head before,but why now? Why when the drugs were wearingoff?Because she really was insane as they claimed?She rushed to the door, to the small opening, to seewho might be playing tricks on her. But the hallwayoutside her cell was empty.The doctors said she’d had a breakdown andneeded help. That was how they’d talked her into thisdamn cell in the first place. A temporary setback,they’d assured her. Now this. A bolt of terror rushedthrough her as she considered she might be losingwhat she had left of her mind.Hot anger replaced fear. Rachel began searchingher cell. The voice wasn’t coming through the speakernext to the camera overhead, but that didn’t meanthere weren’t others hidden in the room.First she tore the medical equipment away from thewall. Then the small dresser. Then her bed. Nothing.She ripped away the mattress and threw it in a corner,then searched the bed frame, and when she still foundnothing, picked up the thing as if it weighed no morethan a child’s toy and threw it against a wall.“Where is the damn speaker?” she yelled, backinginto a corner.“If you close your eyes and concentrate, Rachel,you can find me.”Who the hell was screwing with her? The voicesounded familiar . . . someone she knew once longago.Almost against her will, she closed her eyes. A brilliantflash and a thunderous noise like the blast of anexplosion filled her mind. She caught the sound ofaircraft overhead . . . then the wail of a siren. . . .Heart thumping, she opened her eyes, pushingaway the splinters of memory that she recognized asWorld War II. Time and drugs had suppressed thepast for so long, so how was she remembering now?What was this horrible dark sensation spreadingthrough her, paralyzing her?“I know all about you, Rachel. And you know me.All you have to do is open your mind. . . .”The voice plunged her to new depths, to a placethat made her stomach knot and the breath catch hotin her throat. Having faced evil many times in ninedecades, she recognized the depths of darkness thevoice promised. She was drowning in it.With a gasp, Rachel fought back, more determinedthan ever to escape.Needing to get out of there and now, she openedher mind again, though not in the way the voice hadsuggested. Without moving from her corner, she mentallyfelt her way around the room once more to themost vulnerable spot—the door, of course—and focusedher mental energy on that. The rest of the roomdisappeared until the only thing she could see was thedoor itself, then only the hardware. The energy builtin her mind until the metal lever began to vibrate.And then she let loose what she’d heard BB, the headscientist, call a psychic blast. The door vibrated sohard that it shook in its frame.Still, it didn’t open.“If you ever want to get out of there, you need myhelp,” came the voice, as if to taunt her.Terror warring with her need to be free, Rachel gotto her feet again and paced the small space like acaged animal, one ready to attack.There had to be a way to get out of this damnplace. She would do anything to breathe fresh airagain. Anything to walk unfettered. To regain herpower. To get revenge.There had to be a way.There was, of course. Darkness beckoned. She recognizedit. Sensed how dangerous it could be. To her.To others.Others had betrayed her. Others had kept herlocked up like an animal, had taken her mind awayfrom her for months. What did she owe anyone butherself?Enough.Rachel thought how she had given everything andeverything had been taken from her in return. Shehad been betrayed. No matter the cost, it was time tothink of herself. She could survive any evil.All she had to do was hurl herself into the darknessof the voice to find the way out. . . .

Editorial Reviews

“Beyond creepy–a frightening, wildly imaginative tale that takes the reader on a shocking ride.”
–Tess Gerritsen, author of The Keepsake

“Will plunge you into a world where good and evil collide with explosive force.”
–Rebecca York, bestselling author of Ghost Moon