by Lilly Gayle
Or more dangerous than ever?
Chapter 23
A thump rattled the freezer door. Amber felt the Clone’s rage. He didn’t understand what she was, but he recognized the threat she posed. And he wanted out. He should possess a telekinetic ability to slide the simple bolt lock open with his mind, but he apparently lacked the cognitive skills required. A snarl sounded from the other side of the freezer door as he slammed his body against it.
Metal buckled outward on the stainless steel surface. The door held.
Amber stiffened as fear coalesced with an inevitable sense of purpose. She’d found the rogue, vampire clone. Now she had to put him down or die trying.
She looked at Reid. Fear shone in his eyes, but not in his actions. He drew his weapon and took aim. Amber already had a round in the chamber. Whispering a quick, silent prayer, she raised her Glock.
Another metal-screeching thump ripped the hinges from the wall. The door burst open and slammed to the ground with an explosive crack that sounded like gunfire. Before she could shoot—or even blink—the clone appeared on top of the fallen door, fangs flashing and body flexed in a wide stance that resembled the starting position of a pro wrestler.
His eyes glowed a fiery red—a predatory shark with eyes the color of hellfire.
Despite a shared resemblance to John Cena, nothing about the creature reminded her of Gerard.
Filled with fatal determination, she took careful aim, knowing she had one shot. If the clone moved, she’d be unable to aim and shoot fast enough to stop him. This was her one and only chance. She had to make it count.
She aimed between his glowing red eyes and…the room erupted into chaos. Whether Reid fired and missed or the Clone moved faster than he could shoot hardly mattered. Hitting a moving vampire was like trying to catch a bullet. It wasn’t possible.
Reid’s shot grazed the vampire’s shoulder. She fired a millisecond later. The shot ricocheted off the freezer, hitting the cinderblock wall to the left—missing the moving vampire by no more than a foot. It might as well have been a mile.
As if by magic, he appeared before Reid and grabbed him by the wrist, snapping the bones in his arm mid-shaft. Reid roared. His gun clattered harmlessly to the ground. The vampire clone flashed his fangs, snarling at Reid like a rabid dog.
Amber wanted to blast the son-of-a-bitch to hell and back, but she couldn’t risk hitting Reid. The two were entangled in what looked like a masochistic lover’s embrace. Reid clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. His cheeks paled. Sweat beaded his brow. The clone pulled him closer, wrapping the fingers of his other hand around Reid’s neck. Using his thumb, he raised Reid’s chin, exposing his vulnerable throat.
Amber didn’t have a clear shot. If she fired at the clone’s head or chest, she’d likely hit Reid. So, she fired at the floor next to the clone’s feet, trying to draw his attention before he bit Reid or ripped his arm off at the shoulder.
The shot echoed through the room, the blast ringing in her ears, nearly deafening her. Gun smoke swirled up from the floor, the familiar smell of cordite triggering memories of Iraq.
Gerard’s doppelganger snarled, his head whipping around to glare. Amber fired again. The clone jerked to the left, his head snapping to the side before bullet met bone. Reid was bound to have felt a breeze as the bullet whizzed between his head and the clone’s, shattering cinderblock in the wall behind him. He flinched but didn’t make a sound.
As if in slow motion, he reached behind his back and pulled out the silver dagger with his good arm. The clone shook him like a rag doll. Reid’s agonized yelp pierced her ears and her heart. The dagger skittered across the floor.
Reid sank to his knees.
Fear and fury pumped adrenalin through Amber’s blood. Moving faster than she’d ever thought possible, she emptied her Glock, hitting the clone in the arm and the shoulder as he shoved Reid aside and dodged bullets like a buzzing fly avoiding a fly swatter.
Heart pounding, lungs burning, she whirled around, catching nothing but wind as the clone dodged to the right. She spun full circle—and came face to face with the bloodsucking bastard.
With one swipe of his arm, he knocked the gun from her hand and sent her sailing across the room. She slammed into the far wall, her head hitting the cinderblocks hard enough to stun. Colored stars exploded behind her eyes. Pain shot down her spine. Her muscles contracted in painful spasms.
Screams echoed in her throbbing skull—Megan’s? Her own? She couldn’t tell. Her vision blurred, but she could still see the creature’s rage-twisted face hovering over her. He opened his mouth. Fangs descended toward her throat. Time slowed—prolonging the inevitable—prolonging her terror.
Her heart slammed against her chest, beating hard and slow. She counted each painful thump as if ticking down the last seconds of her life. Her breath returned with a painful gasp. The next froze in her lungs.
Gerard’s face—not the damn clone’s—hovered before her. His blue eyes encouraged her to fight, the intensity of his gaze begging her not to give up.
Her starving lungs begged for air. She gulped in a mouthful. Gerard’s face faded. Her muscles tensed. She refused to let fear paralyze her. Not this time.
She wiggled her hand out from behind her back, sliding it slowly down her thigh toward the letter opener in her boot.
The clone sniffed her neck like a wolf trying to decide if the prey beneath his paws was something worth eating. A curious light shone in his red eyes—as if he sensed something different about her.
His large hand closed over her throat, tilting her head to the side. He sniffed again. Her heart beat faster.
Taking advantage of the unexpected delay in her imminent demise, she withdrew the dull silver blade. She raised her arm and tried driving the letter opener into his side. He grabbed her wrist. His fingers tightened. The letter opener fell harmlessly to the ground. A scream tore from her throat as pain shot up her arm.
“Amber!” Reid shouted, his voice sounded a million miles away.
A gun exploded. The vampire released her throat with a furious growl. Amber scooted away from him as he turned toward Reid.
Reid cradled his right arm to his chest, holding his gun in his left hand, awkwardly trying to aim. Pain etched his face. Determination shone in his eyes.
Not a lefty by any stretch of the imagination, he nonetheless emptied his clip into the creature’s flesh. Not a single bullet penetrated his skull or entered his heart.
Snarling with rage, the vampire sprang across the room and knocked the gun from Reid’s grasp. Reid fell backward, landing on the freezer door with a painful cry as he hugged his injured arm to his chest and waited for death.
His silver dagger lay within inches of where Amber had fallen. She picked it up and with surprising speed and grace, sprang to her feet with weapon raised.
Four steps. One clean swipe. Blood exploded from the creature’s neck, the arterial spray turning to ash as it peppered Reid’s face. The vampire turned. His head flopped sideways, attached to his body by nothing more than tendons and muscle. Bone protruded upward from his neck. His head lie at an awkward angle. The blood spurting from the fatal wound turned a powdery gray and floated to the floor.
There were no flames. His face turned a scalding red and then scorched black before his body exploded in a cloud of ash. The dust settled at Amber’s feet.
“Jesus!” Reid said as he wiped the ash from his cheeks with his good hand.
Knees shaking, Amber knelt down beside her partner, her heart pounding too hard for her to speak. Ashes floated upward, dusting her boots.
Gasping for air, she finally managed to push out the words in her head. “Are you okay?”
He cocked a brow. “Not really. My damn arm is broken and I got vampire ash in my mouth. But I’ll live. Thanks for saving my ass.”
“Thanks for saving mine.” She helped him to his feet. Her skin tingled with awareness. They weren’t out of danger yet.
“Where’
s Megan?” Aside from a single scream, she hadn’t seen or heard Megan since entering the room.
Despite having told her to stay outside, Amber knew Megan well enough to know she wouldn’t obey—unless given no other choice. Something was definitely wrong.
“Cowering in the van?” Reid said, his voice sounding more hopeful than accusatory.
“Not likely.” Amber wobbled on her feet, jostling Reid’s injured arm.
He sucked air between his teeth. “Shit.”
“Sorry.” She propped him against a wall and collected their scattered weapons. She reloaded both guns and handed Reid his Sig Sauer. Her head pounded but she wasn’t nauseous and the room didn’t spin.
“You look a bit wobbly,” Reid said, stepping away from the wall to meet her in the center of the room. “How’s your head? You got slammed pretty hard.”
She should have been knocked unconscious.
Gingerly touching the lump on the back of her skull, she said, “Hurts like hell.”
But not as much as it should have. She’d hit her head hard enough to do permanent damage and her vision wasn’t even blurred. She had a headache, but she probably didn’t even have a real concussion.
A disquieting sense of pride filled her. She felt like an invincible crusader for justice.
“I owe you, Amber. You saved my life,” Reid said in a voice so filled with gratitude it made her flush.
Her ego tumbled quickly back down to earth. She wasn’t immortal and she was no damned hero. “Had you not taken his focus from me, I’d be dead right now. You don’t owe me a damn thing. We’re even, partner. Now let’s move. Megan’s in danger.”
Reid stopped dragging his feet and moved to catch up. “How do you know?”
“Dhampir intuition?” She chuckled, despite the terror choking off the words.
“I don’t give a damn what you call it,” Reid said, clenching his teeth against the pain. “Just trust your instincts.”
Were her instincts more evolved? Was she something more than human?
When the clone had her pinned down, his hand to her throat, she’d been terrified of dying. But even before Reid fired off those shots, distracting the creature, she’d felt a sense of calm overtake her, giving her confidence.
Had seeing Gerard’s face before her been nothing more than a hopeful hallucination from an oxygen-deprived brain? Or had she actually connected with him on a subconscious level?
As they approached the cafeteria door, wariness settled in Amber’s bones.
Something more dangerous than Gerard’s clone was out there.
And it wanted her dead.
Chapter 24
Shaking off a paralyzing fear that threatened to cripple her the way it had in Germany, Amber stepped in front of Reid, her gun at the ready. He swayed on his feet but managed to remain upright.
“What is it?” he whispered, trying to hold his gun in his left hand while cradling his right arm against his chest.
Amber felt bad for not crafting some sort of sling or giving him time to catch his breath, but time was of the essence. Megan’s life was in danger. She felt it in her bones.
“This way,” she said, following the scent of vampire. “I don’t know where Weldon is, but I’d bet money Axel is in the morgue. It’s the only other place Weldon could contain a vampire.” And she smelled a lingering essence that didn’t belong to the clone.
The morgue was across from a cargo elevator at the other end of the hall. Amber started forward. “Don’t let down your guard. There’s another vampire in the building—and I don’t think it’s Axle.”
Reid didn’t question her knowledge or how she’d obtained the intel. He just nodded and fell into step beside her.
Despite their attempt at stealth, their footfalls echoed down the hall. The eerie silence inside the facility magnified the sound. If Weldon was anywhere in the basement, he’d know exactly where they were headed.
They crept past an open door that hung askew on its hinges. Old files littered the floor. Tracks ran the length of the ceiling and wires hung from a large hole in the wall. The faded and peeling radiation symbol on the door proclaimed that it had once been an x-ray room. The dark room door on the far side of the room stood open. Despite his broken arm, Reid made a detour inside. He poked his head inside the darkroom and then did a brief sweep of the radiology room.
“Clear,” he whispered when he rejoined her in the hall.
A small alcove beside the x-ray room had most likely served as a waiting/reception area. Filthy floor tiles buckled and curled and a semicircle of missing tiles in the far corner outlined where a desk had once occupied the space. Now, it was littered with rat turds and dead cockroaches.
Amber shivered and moved forward. The pounding in her skull faded to a dull ache.
Around the next corner, they reached a dead end. The service elevator was to the right. On the left—just as she’d seen in her mind’s eye—was a steel door marked “Morgue.” Reid used the gun he held in his good arm to raise the elevator gate. He stepped inside and looked up. Nothing pounced on his head.
“Clear,” he said again.
Amber nodded and tried the handle on the morgue’s door. It wasn’t locked.
The hair on the nape of her neck stood on end.
“That’s not a good sign,” Reid said as she eased the door open.
Gun poised, Amber moved in low and to the left. Reid ducked to the right. No hail of gunfire greeted them—no snarling vampires attacked. The room was relatively empty.
White, peeling cabinets with frosted glass fronts lined the wall to the right just above a stainless steel corpse dissection autopsy table. A rolling stainless steel instrument cart at the head of the table held a rib spreader and bone saw. The room smelled of bleach and iron.
Despite a recent cleaning, the stench of blood hung in the air.
Bile rose to the back of Amber’s throat as she slowly turned, training her weapon on the four drawer stainless steel morgue refrigerator—two more drawers than the hospital in Asheville had. The three by six drawers were stacked two on top of the other.
Another shiver crawled over Amber’s cool skin. Piney Grove had been a TB asylum where death claimed lives on a daily basis. During its heyday, there’d probably been a body in every drawer. It should have been turned off, but the dial on the mercury thermometer dipped below minus fifteen degrees Celsius. Something—or someone—was in at least one of the drawers.
Reid tucked his gun against his chest, holding it with his broken arm. With his left hand, he reached for the top drawer on the right. Amber steadied her aim. The slides screeched as he slid the drawer open.
Empty. He closed it and moved to the next one.
Another swing and a miss.
Tension rippled across Amber’s shoulders. Her arms shook, making it difficult to steady her aim as Reid reached for the bottom left drawer and slowly tugged it open to reveal a body. A half-naked man lay on the cool metal surface wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.
Blue-tinged caramel skin stretched tightly across a sculpted, hairless chest. Ice crystals clung to the military-short hair on his shorn scalp, giving it a silvery sheen. Those same crystals clung like tiny shards of glass to his brows, lashes, and neatly trimmed goatee. A Celtic cross tattoo covered the curve of his right shoulder. His left shoulder sported an Ankh—the Egyptian symbol of life and immortality—an eerily fitting tattoo for a man who was now immortal.
Reid nodded to the corpse-like figure in the drawer. “He fits the physical description of Axel Travers.”
Amber touched the man’s cheek. It felt like a block of ice. “Even with his eyes closed, he looks just like the picture we have on file.”
But they needed a positive ID. And Megan knew the young man personally. But where was she?
“Travers is out cold.” She smiled self-consciously. “Forgive the unintentional pun, but he’s not going to hurt us and for the moment he’s safe. We need to find Megan. She’s still
in danger.”
Reid looked at the final unopened drawer. Amber’s stomach flip-flopped.
“You don’t think she’s in there? Do you?”
“No. Weldon has her.”
“Yes he does,” said a voice from the doorway.
Crouching, Amber drew her weapon and turned.
Megan stood in the doorframe. An arm encircled her throat. Another curved around her waist. A man no taller than she was held her against his chest, using her as a human shield.
“I’m sorry,” Megan whispered. Terror shone in her eyes but she didn’t cry. She held herself stiffly in Steve Weldon’s grip.
“Police!” Amber said with forced bravado. “You’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Axle Travers and the murders of Tina Gallagher and Richard Baxter. Raise your hands and step away from Dr. Harper.”
Brown eyes narrowed in a pale face. He peeped around Megan’s head and smiled. “No. You drop your weapon or I’ll snap her neck like a twig.”
Reid and Amber exchanged glances. She didn’t see a weapon in Steve Weldon’s hand, but if they obeyed his command, Megan was dead.
“We can’t do that, Dr. Weldon,” Reid supplied before Amber had a chance to respond. “Now, release Dr. Harper and I won’t be forced to shoot.”
“You couldn’t fire a water pistol. Your arm is broken.” A wicked smile stretched the corners of his mouth when he swung his gaze back to Amber. “And do you really think you can kill me?” He shook Megan. “Tell them, Megs, tell them what your blood has created.”
Fear punched Amber in the chest, stealing her breath. “No.”
“Oh yes,” he said, a smile in his voice. “I’m a new breed of vampire—a day walker. As long as I avoid the sun’s direct rays, I can stay up all day and all night. I only need rest when my strength starts to wane. Usually, a short siesta at noon will do the trick. And I owe my immortality to my good friend and former coworker, Dr. Harper.”
“Jesus! You turned yourself into a vampire?” The incredulity in Reid’s voice told Amber exactly what he thought of immortals.