Abigail gasped. He could actually teleport!
"Awesome," Madison whispered.
Mr. Holstein spread his hands. "I have no intention of harming anyone."
Could that be true? Abigail wondered. Could there be such a thing as a harmless vampire? It sounded like an oxymoron.
"You can believe Mr. Holstein," the stocky man who had arrived with him said. "Even though the Vamps have a number of impressive powers, they are basically safe and harmless."
"Stow it, Whelan," Mr. Caprese muttered. "That's not what you told me when you started the Stake-Out team. You said the Undead were dangerous, and this one has just proven it."
Mr. Holstein folded his arms over his chest. "If I was truly dangerous, none of you would be alive to talk about it. But as Mr. Whelan has discovered over the last few years, we are harmless. We're morally opposed to causing any injury to humans."
"Of course." The general sneered at him. "You wouldn't want to diminish your food source."
Mr. Holstein glared at him. "We're not inhuman monsters. We all started our lives as humans. We had human parents and a human childhood. Many of the older Vamps have descendants. Younger Vamps like me still have family. How could I view a human as food when my own mother is still alive?"
He was a young vampire? Abigail wondered what had caused him to become Undead. What exactly did it mean to be Undead? Gregori Holstein was moving about, thinking, talking. Didn't these things require an active circulatory system? Her mind raced with one question after another. So many unknowns, but one thing was for certain. Mr. Holstein was fascinating.
She winced inwardly. She couldn't allow herself to be distracted by this man, no matter how mysterious and handsome he was. She had to hold firm to her mission. All her years of study and hard work had been aimed at one goal: discovering a cure for her mother. She had no time for studying this . . . vampire, no matter how fascinating he was.
"Mr. Holstein makes an excellent point," her dad said. "He's still basically human. I think we can trust him."
The Homeland Security director, Mr. Schiller, snorted. "Are you kidding? He has powers we can't hope to compete with."
"But we don't use them to harm mortals," Mr. Holstein insisted.
"What other powers do you have?" the national security advisor asked.
Mr. Holstein shrugged and skirted the desk. "You've witnessed most of them. Levitation, teleportation, super speed and strength."
"And heightened senses," Abigail murmured softly.
He looked at her, and that shot her heart rate into warp drive. The corner of his mouth lifted.
Blast him. He could hear it.
"Any other powers?" her dad asked.
His smile widened. "I'm an excellent dancer."
Dad chuckled, but her breath caught in her chest. He was deflecting. She knew it. He had more powers. Powers he didn't want them to know about. For one thing, she was ninety-nine percent certain that he had caused Madison's dog to fall asleep. If he could do that to an animal, he could probably do it to humans. What other tricks could he play on the human mind?
A chill skittered down her arms, giving her goose bumps. Mr. Holstein could be far more dangerous than her father realized. She needed to warn him, but she didn't want to make accusations she couldn't prove.
"Dad?" She sidled up close to him. "Can I have a word with you in private?"
He turned to her, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "You're thinking the same thing I am, aren't you?" He squeezed her shoulder. "That research trip you wanted to take? I think it's possible now."
She gasped. Good Lord, that hadn't occurred to her. She'd proposed that trip two weeks ago.
"I hated having to turn you down," her dad whispered. "But this changes everything. And the fact that it happened now, just when we need it, it makes me believe this was meant to be."
Her heart squeezed in her chest. She couldn't blame her father for believing that fate had somehow stepped in to help him keep his beloved wife alive. But could fate take the form of vampires?
She glanced at Mr. Holstein. He was watching them curiously, and no doubt he could hear every word. "Dad, we need to talk about this. Alone."
"It'll be fine. Trust me." He patted her shoulder, then turned to his advisors. "My decision is made. We will proceed with the alliance. These Vamps possess special abilities that will come in handy." He glanced back at Abigail and winked.
She gulped. Dad might be jumping into this alliance out of desperation to save Mom. Such an alliance shouldn't be based on emotional reasons, but she couldn't help but share his surge of hope. Mr. Holstein's ability to teleport meant he could get her into China without the Chinese government even knowing about it. She might find the plants that had the most potential of saving her mother.
But what if Mr. Holstein had dangerous psychic powers? How could she possibly trust him? On the other hand, how could she pass up an opportunity to help her mother?
"Alan." Her dad turned to the director of Homeland Security. "I'm putting you in charge of making that video disappear and proving to the public that vampires are nothing more than fantasy. Get started immediately."
Alan Schiller nodded with a resigned look. "Yes, Mr. President." He strode from the room.
"Thank you," Mr. Holstein told her father. "We'll be happy to assist you with any problems that might arise." He glanced at Abigail and lifted his eyebrows with a questioning look.
She turned away, her cheeks growing warm. Would Dad actually do it? Would he ask a vampire to take her on her research trip?
"I have something personal I'd like to discuss with Mr. Holstein," her father said. "General, George, Frank, thank you for coming."
General Bond shot Mr. Holstein a disgusted look, then marched from the office, followed by the secretary of defense and the national security advisor.
"Mr. President?" Josh asked. "I'll escort your daughters back to the residence floor now."
"You can take Madison, but I'd like Abigail to stay."
She swallowed hard. Yes, Dad was going to do it.
"But that's not fair!" Madison latched on to Abigail's arm. "If Abby gets to stay, then so do I."
Dad lowered his voice. "Sweetie, we have business to discuss with Mr. Holstein."
"I can do that! I'm a vampire expert!"
Dad's mouth twitched. "I doubt you could know more than the vampire himself."
"Oh." She tucked her chin down. "I suppose that's true."
"If the young ladies wish to remain, I would be honored to have their company." Mr. Holstein gave them a dazzling smile.
Abigail's pulse jumped. Did he know the power of that smile? It was every bit as striking as his phenomenal hearing. The man who had accompanied him, Mr. Whelan, nudged him with an elbow and gave him a warning look that he seemed to find amusing.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Holstein!" Madison grinned and extended a hand. "I'm so excited to meet you. I have long been an admirer of your . . . species."
He shook her hand. "Please, call me Gregori."
She giggled. "I love your name! It's so vampirish. Don't you think so, Abby?"
"I suppose." She avoided eye contact with him, but still saw his hand reach out to her.
"Abby?" he asked softly.
She swallowed hard. Why did his voice have to be so deep and sexy? "Gori." She clasped his hand, intending to give it one quick shake and release, but he held tight until she lifted her gaze to meet his.
A small frisson of energy shot through her, giving her a shock. Where had that come from? His eyes? His hand? Or both? She pulled her hand from his grip, jerking back hard enough that she lost her balance and fell onto her rump on the couch.
"Yes, let's all have a seat." Her dad sat in his chair at the head of the coffee table, apparently unaware that anything odd had happened.
The CIA director and Mr. Whelan sat on the other couch. Josh and the three Secret Service agents remained standing.
Had she imagined that little jolt? No, her right palm still tingled with residual electricity. Abigail clenched her hands together. Maybe it was just her. She ventured a glance at Gregori.
He was regarding her with a puzzled look.
"Gregori." Her dad cleared his throat. "Do you mind if I call you Gregori?"
"No, that would be fine." He sat in the chair at the end of the coffee table.