Roaring Midnight

by Colleen Gleason

Chapter FIFTEEN

  ~ Our Heroine Unleashed ~

  Macey didn't even need to think about it. She simply reacted, slamming her stake into the heart of the undead closest to her.

  Her fighting arm jackknifed back, and she twisted away and down as his ash exploded. Temple's instructive voice singing in her head, Macey sprung back up, shoving the second vampire into the third one, and lashed out with her stake once more.

  This time she missed, stabbing a shoulder, and her would-be victim caught himself and lunged toward her. On his impact, Macey flew through the air, crashing into the bed. Her breath knocked out of her, she rolled to the side and off the mattress, stumbling to her feet as she gasped for air.

  The other vampire caught her by the arm and yanked her toward him. Macey lost her balance and fell against him, then hooked her foot around the back of his ankle. As he grabbed her by the throat with one hand and held her arm with the other, she used her stable foot to pivot her insubstantial weight into him. He staggered, but the hand around her throat was tightening and he remained upright as they twisted around in a macabre dance.

  Black spots savior who carries the deepest tainthe- the mandanced before her eyes, and Macey found herself weakening. She couldn't breathe. Another hand grabbed at her stake arm-the second vampire-and she felt the sharp, unexpected pain of brutal fangs in her wrist. Her grip loosened and the stake fell from her fingers. She couldn't breathe. Her knees trembled.

  She was losing.

  No.

  She wouldn't.

  Gathering all her strength, dragging in the little air she could, Macey jammed up with a knee, then, when the grip at her throat lessened, she rammed her forehead up into the nose of the undead. He howled and released her. She swooped down with her free hand, yanked the stake from beneath her skirt, and spun like a dancer in the arm of her other attacker.

  Slam.

  Into the heart of the undead who was feasting on her wrist. Gasping, still weak with polka-dotted vision, she pivoted just as the third one recovered from her attack. He lunged, but she was ready and the point of her stake found its home-right in his gut. Blood spurted.

  Damn. Missed again.

  He grunted with rage and pain, but he was still moving a little slow. She ducked when he swiped for her, diving for his knees. Macey hooked her arm around him and pulled him off balance as he grabbed a handful of her hair. They tumbled to the floor, pain roaring at her scalp as he held on. But as he rose up over her, using his grasp on her curls to slam her head to the ground, Macey twisted to the side, jamming her knee into the side of his gut. Her arm followed and she slammed the wooden pike into the back of his torso. . .

  And he froze.

  Thank God.

  She collapsed on the floor, tears streaming from her eyes, completely out of breath, room spinning. Then he exploded.

  It was another moment before she dragged herself to her feet. Her head pounded. Knees and hands trembled. But she was filled with grim satisfaction. I did it.

  The air was thick with ash-scent, and it clung to her eyelashes and arms. Some still filtered through the air like dust mites. Oh, damn.

  She vaulted toward the door, flinging the bolt. In the midst of the fight, she hadn't had the chance to wonder what had happened-why the vampires had suddenly shown up-but now she realized. The scent of ash in the air had drawn them to investigate, just as the sound of gunshots would warn mortals of a threat.

  I have to find Chas.

  She listened, waiting. The only sounds were distant-laughing, cries of pleasure, conversation. The chill at the back of her neck was present, but not insistent or foreboding. She opened the room's small, high window, hoping some of the heavy smell of vampire dust would disseminate before any others noticed it.

  After a moment, she unlocked and peered around the door. No undead in sight. Before leaving the room, she replaced one stake in her garter, the other in her sly pocketbook, and tucked the silver cross back down into her dress.

  Now to locate Chas. And maybe do a little snooping. It was safer, now that she wasn't in the room with the remains of a vampire, waiting to be found.

  And she'd slain three of them. All at once. All on her own.

  Macey couldn't help the thrill of excitement and relief at her success. I can do this.

  Listening for the sounds of anyone approaching, Macey went down the hallway, stopping at each door. Silence, silence, silence. But behind one there was the unmistakable sound of pleasure and pain. She hesitated at the door. It would be easy to break in and kill the vampire-particularly if he or she was in the throes of feeding, or other erotic play-but Macey wasn't certain if it was the best thing to do: making more noise, sending more ash in the air.

  And then there would be the mortal left behind, who might shout or call warning, or worse, need an explanation if he or she had been a willing participant. Because, yes, there were those Tutela members Chas had told her about. They desired to be fed upon. They craved it, sought it out.

  Still. . . what if the mortal was in danger? Unwilling?

  Macey had no way of knowing, but her job, her calling was, above all, to protect and save.

  She made the decision and, hand inside her pocketbook, ready to yank out her weapon, she carefully tested the doorknob. It turned soundlessly. Carefully, she pushed it open a crack. The deep sounds of pleasure sent a little shivery twinge in her belly, but then she recognized slurping and suction, and the flutter turned into an uncomfortable twist.

  Neither occupant sounded in distress, but Macey peered through the crack anyway. The sight that met her eyes was disturbing and, shockingly, erotic.

  A female vampire bent over the bare, muscular shoulder of a man. Her hands curled into his skin, covering his bare torso from behind, and the tendons and veins in his neck were distended as his head tipped to the side. Even through the skinny crack, she could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, the muscles in his arms bunching. His hands were fisted on the bed, making no move to fight off the vampire.

  Macey swallowed hard and was just about to close the door when the man shifted and she saw his face, taut with arousal and pain. Chas.

  Without thinking-without allowing herself to think-Macey shoved open the door and launched herself into the room. Both faces whipped up at her entrance, but it was too late-she had her stake in hand and was on the female in an instant.

  One sharp thrust, and the undead was gone.

  Macey spun away to catch her breath, not certain she'd seen what she thought she'd seen. . . not ready to face him and find out. Her heart pounded and her insides were in turmoil. But the image of his expression was burned into her mind. Stark, beautiful, and filled savior who carries the deepest taint coming blood with pain.

  She heard him behind her-rising, pulling on his shirt. When she finally turned, it was to find him facing partly away. His mouth tight, his movements sharp and quick.

  "I-"

  "Any news about Vioget?" He had a stake in his hand, and his eyes were cold and dark.

  "No. I don't think Alvisi has him. But I killed four vampires-now a fifth-and I think the others might know something is happening. "

  He nodded curtly. "The smell of ash-it can spread like smoke. That's why it's not the best idea to stake them here. "

  Was he criticizing her for killing that vampire? Macey shook her head but held her tongue. She knew what she'd seen. She just wasn't sure what to make of it.

  "Let's go. "

  "Where to?"

  "Out of here. You're obviously leaving a trail behind you, and we'll soon be discovered if we don't leave. " He started toward the door.

  She had no choice but to follow him. "Back to the club?"

  "For now. "

  But two steps later, the sound of voices approached, and the back of Macey's neck grew icy cold. She and Chas looked at each other at the same time, and without speaking, ducked into one of the rooms.
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  "Alvisi," he breathed into her ear as they peered out the crack of the door.

  Sure enough, the count and a trio of his female attendants in their blue frocks and feathery headdresses were heading down the hall toward them. Macey sniffed, wondering if the scent of ash was still heavy enough in the air for the undead to notice. Chas was very still, standing behind her to#8220;Who are