Phantom Shadows ig-3

by Dianne Duvall

  Neither could Cliff. He’d like to think it was because there was so damned much other noise going on, but . . .

  She was pale. Her lips were blue.

  “What happened?” Stuart asked, slumped across the room.

  Joe turned blazing eyes on the vampire. “You killed her! You fucking killed her!”

  “Wait!” Cliff shifted his warm, bloody fingers on her neck. “I-I-I think I found a pulse. She’s not dead yet.”

  “Yet,” Joe repeated and began backing toward the doorway.

  “Joe? What are you doing? Get help.”

  Joe just kept moving, his head rocking back and forth. “I can’t do it.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t do this. Not without Dr. Lipton. Not without Melanie. I can’t be here.”

  “She isn’t—”

  “You know what they’ll do to us! They hate us! They’ll blame us! They’ll kill us!”

  Cliff gaped as his friend sped through the doorway. He looked over at Stuart, whose wide-eyed gaze was fixed on Dr. Lipton.

  Crimson liquid trailed from the corner of his mouth. “I did that?”

  “Yes!”

  “I didn’t mean to!”

  Cliff could believe it, but . . . shit! Joe was on the run. Dr. Lipton’s heartbeat was faltering. “If you didn’t mean it, get your ass over here.”

  Stuart scrambled forward.

  Cliff passed him Dr. Lipton, praying he was doing the right thing. “Keep pressure on her neck. I’m gonna go for help.”

  Stuart nodded. He should be flushed from feeding, but his face was pale as death.

  Cliff took one last look at Melanie, then raced from the room. Down the hallway toward the elevator he went, moving so fast he would kill the humans if he bumped into any of them. “Bastien!” he shouted.

  Up through the roof of the elevator he went.

  What? Bastien called back from somewhere outside.

  Cliff leapt up two floors, grabbed the edge, and propelled himself up two more. “Melanie needs you! She’s hurt real bad!”

  One more leap and he ran smack into Bastien on the ground floor . . . or what was left of it.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  “Stuart drained her.”

  Bastien’s eyes flared with panic as he turned to the elevator shaft.

  Cliff grabbed his arm. “Joe’s gone. He saw Dr. Lipton and freaked out. I have to go after him.”

  “The sun’s coming up.”

  “He can’t be alone. He’s too close to losing it.”

  Bastien nodded and pulled him into a rough hug. “Be careful. If you don’t make it back by sunrise, I’ll find you.”

  Cliff nodded and watched Bastien drop through the opening and free-fall to the bottom, where he landed smoothly in a crouch.

  Cliff eyed the chaos around him. There was fire everywhere. Bullets whipped past. Immortals . . .

  He swallowed. Holy crap. No wonder Bastien’s vampire army had fallen beneath the immortals’ swords. They were terrifying in their speed and strength and intensity.

  Cliff’s heart began to pound. His chest felt tight. He felt exposed. Terrified. He hadn’t been outside by himself in over two years. Had he become agoraphobic as a result? Because his feet felt frozen to the pitted floor.

  Until a freaking missile shot past.

  Cliff ducked behind what was left of a desk. The ceiling was gone, the roof mixed with the other rubble beneath his feet.

  Where the hell was Joe?

  Smoke stung his eyes as he peered around, trying to find the blond vampire.

  There! Diving into the trees.

  Cliff took off after him. He leaped over a pile of mercenary bodies and dodged as many bullets as he could. The damned things were flying everywhere. A blurred form sailed past, eyes flashing bright amber.

  Terror cut through him like a blade.

  Would the immortals think he was trying to escape and kill him?

  When the dark as midnight figure kept going, Cliff allowed himself to breathe again.

  Apparently he wasn’t their highest priority.

  Relieved, he headed for the trees, intent on finding Joe.

  Something stung his neck.

  Reaching up, he slapped at it and came away with a tranquilizer dart. His vision wavered. His knees buckled.

  The ground lurched up and hit him hard.

  A shadow fell over him.

  Cliff squinted up at two soldiers. “Ah shi—”

  Bastien raced through the hallway, unable to breathe, panic closing his throat.

  Melanie.

  He saw nothing. Saw no one. Only the door to Melanie’s office.

  He rushed inside.

  Empty.

  Stepping out into the hallway, he met Marcus’s gaze. “Where is she?”

  Stone-faced, Marcus pointed to the lab.

  Bastien burst through the doorway.

  Stuart was bent over Melanie on the floor.

  Bastien roared with fury.

  Stuart spun around, eyes frantic. “I didn’t mean to! I swear I didn’t mean to do it!”

  Bastien sent the vampire flying across the room. “What did you do?” he bellowed.

  Melanie’s eyes were closed.

  Bastien knelt beside her and gathered her limp form into his arms. “Melanie?” He brushed her hair back from her face. It was littered with powder and fragments of sheetrock. “Melanie, sweetheart?”

  Cliff had made it sound as though she were dying, but . . . her skin was warm to the touch. Her heartbeat sounded strong. Blood stained her pale neck. Perhaps Cliff and Joe had seen that and assumed the worst?

  “I was injured,” Stuart said and approached with caution. His pants were soaked with blood. His shirt bore a large stain and was scorched in places.

  Bastien couldn’t tell if the blood was Stuart’s or that of the men and women he had helped. It wasn’t Melanie’s. The scent of her blood rose from her throat and did not match that on Stuart’s clothing. Only that on his face.

  Bastien hugged her tight, terrified by how close he had come to losing her.

  “I was hurt,” Stuart babbled on. “I didn’t know I’d lost that much blood and . . . I don’t know what happened. I just . . . I didn’t realize I was feeding on her until those other vampires came in and . . . I didn’t mean to drain her.”

  “You didn’t drain her,” Bastien murmured and buried his face in her hair. Why wasn’t she waking up? Had she hit her head? He should kill the vampire for this. Accident or not—

  “Yeah, I did,” Stuart said with trepidation.

  Bastien raised his head. “No, you—” He broke off, inhaled deeply. He stared down at Melanie, bent, and drew in her scent. Swearing, he looked up at Stuart. “What the hell did you do?”

  Stuart halted and began to backtrack. “She was dying. I didn’t know what else to do. Her pulse . . . She barely had a pulse. She wouldn’t have made it if I hadn’t . . .”

  “You gave her your blood?” Bastien demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “How much?” Had it just been a little, she wouldn’t be so warm. She’d be going into shock and—

  “A lot,” Stuart admitted in a small voice. “She was nice to me. I didn’t want her to die.”

  “You infected her?”

  Chris burst through the doorway. “What’s going on? Marcus said something was up.”

  “Stuart infected her.”

  Chris drew a tranquilizer pistol and shot Stuart.

  The vampire looked down at the dart in his chest and swayed. His eyes rolled back. His legs buckled.

  Bastien felt nothing but guilt and regret as the young vamp dropped to the floor. He looked up at Chris. “Can you help her? Can you stop it?”

  Melanie had talked about being transformed later on in life. Not now. Not unless it was absolutely necessary. If they could undo it while the infection was still fresh . . .

  Chris leaned his head back and shouted, “David!”

 
Seconds later, David stood in the room with them. “Yes?”

  “She’s infected,” Bastien said. “Can you stop it?”

  David shook his head. “My healing gift has no affect on the virus.”

  “Richart!” Chris whipped out his phone and dialed. “Are we up and running yet? . . . Okay.”

  Richart appeared in the doorway. “Yes?” His brow furrowed with concern when his gaze found Melanie.

  Chris hung up. “The new network headquarters is ready. Richart, would you teleport Melanie there? Maybe if we remove as much of the infected blood as possible and replace it we can halt the transformation.”

  Bastien stood with Melanie in his arms.

  Richart held out his own.

  Handing her over was one of the hardest things Bastien had ever done.

  Richart met his eyes as he cradled Melanie in his arms. “I’ll take good care of her.”

  Bastien’s throat was too thick to respond.

  The two vanished.

  The explosions overhead ceased. As did the automatic weapons fire. For one moment, all was silent, as if the entire world—not just Bastien—waited with bated breath to see how Melanie would fare.

  Lisette entered. Étienne. Roland and Sarah. Yuri and Stanislov, whom Bastien hadn’t even realized had entered the fray. Ethan and Edward. Marcus and Ami entered last.

  All formed a semicircle in front of Bastien, faces somber.

  “Is it over?” Bastien asked.

  Étienne nodded. “The sun has risen. A handful of mercenaries escaped.”

  Good. “Then Ami should be able to track them to their base.”

  “There’s more,” Lisette said.

  They all looked at each other as though none of them wanted to be the one to break the bad news.

  How bad could it be? Melanie had just been drained almost to the point of death and infused with the virus in massive amounts by a vampire. Surely they couldn’t tell him anything that could even come close to that.

  “What is it?”

  Again Lisette spoke. “We believe they have Cliff.”

  Bastien shook his head. “Joe panicked when he saw Melanie and took off. Cliff went to bring him back. They probably sought shelter when the sun rose and will return tonight.”

  Étienne shook his head. “I saw Cliff felled by a dart. I was busy dropping a grenade I confiscated down into one of the armored personnel carriers and had to look away. When I looked back, he was gone.”

  Alarm shook Bastien. “Are you sure?” What if he had only ducked into the trees. If Cliff was still up there, he could die when the angle of the sun changed.

  “I searched the trees,” Étienne said. “He was nowhere to be found.”

  “Are any of the vehicles missing?” David asked. “The mercenaries would not have gone on foot.”

  They all shrugged.

  “I was the first one on the ground,” Richart said, “but couldn’t say how many there were to begin with because they were already bombing the building.”

  David sheathed his weapons. “I’ll see if I can find them.”

  Étienne shook his head. “The sun is up.”

  “I know. I can withstand a few hours of daylight.”

  That long? Really?

  As David strode past, Bastien grabbed his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you could shape-shift?”

  “Because you didn’t ask.”

  The others shared a look.

  “You can shape-shift?” Lisette asked.

  “Yes. And no, I won’t show you. It isn’t a parlor trick.”

  Bastien tightened his grip when David would have moved on. “There was no need to bring Ami here. With your shape-shifting ability, we didn’t need her.”

  “I didn’t bring Ami here,” David replied, expression darkening. “I would never have put her in such danger and you shouldn’t have either.”

  “Because I didn’t know!”

  Étienne gripped Bastien’s arm and slowly pulled him backward.

  Bastien released David. “All you have to do is change into a bird and follow the soldiers home. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have told Marcus we needed her.”

  David stepped up close, eyes flashing amber. “Whether you needed her or not, you should not have brought her here. You risked her life by doing so. Was my hanging up on you not indication enough that it was a phenomenally bad idea? Was there any doubt in your mind as to my disapproval of such a plan?”

  “If you had—”

  “Do not mistake my friendly complaisance for weakness, Sebastien. Nor for ignorance. I have walked this earth for thousands of years. I am more powerful than every immortal in this room combined. And I hold a wisdom and patience you may never acquire. The only immortal who holds more authority than I do is Seth. The next time you do something I have forbidden, you will not like the consequences. If, that is, Seth lets you live. You may very well have forfeited your life tonight when you risked Ami’s. Seth will be furious.”

  David stalked from the room. A moment later, the sound of wings flapping carried to them from the elevator shaft.

  Bastien met the somber gazes of the others.

  “Damn,” Ethan said. “You really know how to push people’s buttons.”

  Yes. The question was: How far had he pushed Seth’s?

  Chapter 13

  Seth stared at the slender figure on the bed. Straight, shoulder-length raven hair, as shiny as it was soft, formed a fan on the pillow beneath her head. Her nose was small, her chin impertinent. He didn’t doubt she had thrust that chin out often in her lifetime.

  Dark, sightless eyes stared back at him, as though even in death she beseeched him to help her. Free her. Save her.

  But he had arrived too late.

  The dread that had been burning his stomach like acid for days began to recede, replaced by numbness. Regret.

  Bending, Seth picked a shirt up off the floor—all that remained of the vampire who had worn it—and wiped his weapons clean. He sheathed them, forced his feet to carry him forward. With a wave of his hand, he sent the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles racing to untie themselves. They fell to the covers. One slithered off and hit the floor with a thump.

  Her slender arms were purple with bruises and polka dotted with bites and dried specks and trails of blood. Her legs, bare save for the small skirt she wore, bore the same. Her delicate hands were bloodstained and curled into claws that continued to grip the sheets beneath her though no breath filled her body.

  Seth left to perform a quick search of her small rural home. He found what he sought in the bathroom and returned to the bedroom.

  Lifting the slight form, he supported her with one arm while he ripped the bloody sheets from the bed and shook a clean white one over it. He laid the young woman down and closed those long-lashed, sightless, accusing eyes.

  He had searched for her every chance he could, narrowing her location down a little more each day. It was a big damned planet. And so much was going on in North Carolina right now.

  Excuses. For the inexcusable.

  He turned to the crib a few feet away. Anguish pierced him as he approached it.

  The body within was so tiny. He lifted the babe and placed him in his mother’s arms, then tucked the sheet around them like a cocoon.

  Two gifted ones lost.

  There were three phenomena Seth always felt internally, no matter how far away they took place: the birth of a gifted one, the death of either a gifted one or an immortal, and the transformation of a gifted one into an immortal. The first triggered a sort of breathless tingle in his chest, as this babe’s birth had three months earlier. It had been a single bright moment among a host of dark ones.

  The second spawned a feeling of emptiness. Seth had thought the emptiness created by the babe’s death an extension of the loneliness that had besieged him ever since he had assigned Ami to be Marcus’s Second. Had he realized it was the result of a gifted one dying, perhaps he could have found these two sooner. Soon e
nough, perhaps, to save the mother.

  The third, the transformation of a gifted one into an immortal, spawned a sick feeling of dread within him. So heavy he could follow it like a scent in the wind. But such took time. Time this woman, the victim of the half-dozen vampires whose blood now painted the walls, had lacked.

  The vampires had tried to turn her. But, as often happened, their bloodlust had thwarted their desire, driving them to drain her before the transformation could conclude. It was the only reason there were two bodies to enshroud and bury instead of one.

  He lifted the bundle into his arms. They were so light. Somehow that made it all the worse.

  Outside, a brisk wind bearing the scent of snow lashed him. He almost wished it carried with it the punishing sting of sleet.

  The beautiful countryside outside Gyeongju, South Korea, bore a white blanket that seemed to dampen sound like cotton balls. Thunder rumbled overhead, spawned not by any meteorological disturbance, but by Seth’s grief.

  He would have to find a shovel.

  “Here.”

  Seth spun around.

  As always, the figure that stepped from the shadows the house cast in the moonlight reminded him of a buff Jim Morrison. His dark, wavy hair lifted and fell with the breeze, tumbling past his shoulders. His chest was bare, hairless. Soft leather pants hung low on his hips.

  Seth hadn’t heard his arrival and wondered if the noise the vampires had made as he had slaughtered them had drowned it out, or if he had simply been so distracted he had missed it.

  The leather pants rustled slightly as the other strolled forward. Snow and ice crunched beneath his boots. One large hand clasped the handle of a shovel he held out to Seth.

  Seth glanced down at the burden in his arms. He didn’t want to lay them on the ground even long enough to dig the grave. Yet he didn’t want to return them inside to the blood-spattered room in which both had died.

  “Never mind,” his visitor said. “I’ll do it.”

  Seth would have been unable to suppress his shock if he hadn’t been so numb.

  “Did you know them?” the other asked as he stuck the shovel deep into the frozen earth and removed a hunk of soil.

  “Not really. I knew they were gifted ones. I looked in on her over the years as I do to all of the gifted ones. But . . .”