by Lilly Gayle
“Not intentionally,” he said with a snobbish snort. “After creating the clone, I tried duplicating the antivirus using my own blood—in the lab of course. I didn’t want to risk becoming a vampire by injecting myself with vampire blood. I created a vaccine from the serum and then injected the clone. To test whether he was still a vampire, I exposed a small section of his skin to a sunlamp. It nearly burned his arm off. As I was scraping away the charred flesh so the regenerative sleep could heal him faster, he moved and the scalpel slipped. It sliced my arm, mixing the vampire’s blood with mine. I didn’t know I was infected until I woke up in my make shift lab drenched in sweat and craving warm blood. I then treated myself with the vaccine created from Megan’s blood. It worked—to a point. But I still craved blood. That’s when I decided to break into Lifeblood.”
He gave Megan another shake that clearly rattled her teeth. She whimpered like a frightened puppy.
“Sadly,” Weldon said with a smile, “my little friend here wasn’t there. So, I helped myself to the serum samples. The clone took out the first security guard before I could stop him. The dumbass couldn’t think for himself. I instructed him to capture the young black man.”
“Who killed Tina Gallagher?” Amber asked—for Gerard. She wanted to give him some form of closure—if she lived long enough to tell him.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Reid sliding closer to Axel Travers’ cold body. Steve Weldon didn’t seem to notice—or care if he did. His attention was focused on her.
“I did. I needed sustenance, and I couldn’t bring myself to sink my teeth into her warm flesh.” He shivered as if repulsed. “Still can’t. I slit my victim’s throat, draw the blood up with a catheter tipped syringe and then drink from a glass. Wouldn’t want the authorities getting wind of the truth. And drinking from a glass is much more civilized. Don’t you think?”
The man’s nucking futs.
“You can’t get blood from a blood bank the way other vampires do?” She needed to keep him talking and focused on her. She didn’t know what Reid planned, but if she could draw Weldon’s attention away from him, perhaps he’d have a chance to implement it. “Gerard doesn’t kill to eat. So why do you?”
Not that his killing or not killing made a difference. Weldon had committed a multitude of crimes, some for which he couldn’t be charged. There was nothing on the books about illegally cloning and torturing vampires.
“Warm, fresh blood strengthens a vampire,” Weldon said. “The antivirus weakens us just a bit. To counteract the negative side-effects of the vaccine, I drink fresh blood. I don’t need much. Just a little, since the vaccine allows me to consume some foods. That’s why so much of Tina’s blood was wasted.” He laughed. “I know you think I was trying to stage the crime scene, but really, it was just more blood than I needed and only fresh blood will do.”
Rage coursed through Amber’s blood, diluting the last ounce of fear. She held on to it, nurturing it, feeding her dhampiric nature. Her senses became more acute. Her headache faded completely. She stepped closer to the maniac.
“Let Megan go,” she demanded.
“Not a chance.” Weldon barked a short laugh. “Her blood holds the key to the antivirus. For the vaccine to work, the blood donor must carry the mutated gene that causes xeroderma pigmentosum. That’s why Megan is so important. With her blood and the Liposome sunblock, I can create an army of vampires impervious to sunlight.”
“I can’t let you do that,” Amber said. Then she moved, faster than mortally possible.
She dove behind Weldon, landing in a squat before rolling to the side and springing up behind him with gun drawn. With a startled yelp, he shoved Megan at her chest before she could fire. The two women tumbled backward in a tangle of limbs.
Reid shoved the drawer holding Axel Travers’ body closed with his hip, protecting the sleeping vampire from harm. Then he awkwardly fired off all eight shots from his Sig Sauer P-220. He hit Weldon in the arm, neck, and shoulder, slowing him down but not stopping him.
Enraged, Weldon roared, hitting Reid so hard, he flew backwards, narrowly missing the autopsy table before hitting the cabinets. The glass doors shattered. Reid’s eyes rounded. Blood ran down his forehead as he slumped to the floor.
Amber pushed Megan off her and scrambled to her feet. Weldon whirled on her, moving as fast as lightning to strike. Amber dodged his blow, catching him off guard.
He paused, barely winded. Amber was breathing so fast, she feared hyperventilating.
“Well, well. You’re much more than you seem, aren’t you detective?” He leaned forward without stepping closer and sniffed the air. “You’re not a vampire. What are you?”
“Your worst frickin’ nightmare.” She pulled the letter opener and lunged. He sidestepped her easily and stepped behind her, pinning her arms to her side.
“Drop your weapon. Now.” He squeezed until she thought her own elbows would break her ribs and puncture her lungs.
She held onto the letter opener with all her strength. “No.”
“Then I have no choice.”
His muscles tensed as he lowered his head. Amber felt his warm breath on her neck seconds before his teeth grazed her skin.
She screamed loud enough to wake the dead.
Chapter 25
Gerard couldn’t explain what had awakened him from the regenerative slumber shortly before three in the afternoon—earlier than his usual time. Had changing the dosing schedule given him the extra half hour of daylight? Would continuing to take the injections in the morning allow him to awaken even earlier? Was a cure actually possible?
He ran his tongue over his teeth. His fangs descended.
He was still a vampire—but he was a vampire no longer incapacitated by the day sleep. He was wide-awake and alert. And the sun was shining. It was truly a miracle.
So why did he feel so anxious?
The bed beside him was empty, but that wasn’t surprising. Amber was mortal—for the most part. Despite having stayed up most of the night, she’d never sleep all day.
Thinking about her normally gave him a warm feeling in the center of his chest. Not today. A sense of doom filled him. His stomach knotted.
Unaccountably apprehensive, he threw on his clothes and stepped into the hall, nearly colliding with Vincent.
“Something’s wrong,” Vincent said, his voice strained with worry.
“I feel it too.” Amber was afraid. He sensed danger surrounding her—more acutely than he had when G-2 attacked and Nicolas rescued her.
They headed toward the kitchen. The coffee in the cups on the table had grown cold.
“They have a head start,” Vincent said, curling his hand around the cold cup until it shattered. Coffee ran over his hand and dripped to the floor. He threw the ceramic shards to the ground and spun on his heel, snarling at Gerard. “Amber went after Weldon and took Megan with her. If anything happens to her, I’ll rip—”
Gerard threw up his palms, hitting Vincent in the chest hard enough to knock the wind out of him. “You’re not going to touch her, Vin. Not as long as I draw breath.”
“She’s putting my wife in danger!”
“You don’t think Megan wanted to go?” Megan wasn’t a shrinking violet. Vincent should have known that by now. “If she thought she could help put an end to Weldon’s experiments, she would have insisted on going. Amber would have had to put her in handcuffs to stop her and you know it.”
Vincent raked a hand through his dark hair and growled. “Damn it. Don’t you think I know that? My wife never does what she’s told. I can’t control her.”
“Then stop trying, mon ami.”
Fear ravaged his face. “You don’t understand. It’s my fault she’s in trouble. If I had only erased her mind instead of marrying her, she could have lived her life in blissful ignorance of our existence. Instead, I selfishly tried to keep her. In doing so, I may have forfeited her life.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I can’t go on living without her.�
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A lump formed in Gerard’s throat. He swallowed against it, knowing exactly how Vincent felt. “L’espoir fait vivre—Where there’s life, there’s hope. Let’s not give up just yet. We can save them and maybe keep them too.”
“We’ll burn. Megan has the sunblock.”
Gerard wasn’t giving up. “Amber’s car is in the garage. How fast can you drive?”
They covered as much skin as possible, grabbed comforters off the beds and ran out of the house in a vampiric blur
****
Amber opened her eyes against the pain. Her vision shimmered into focus. Hospital lights nearly blinded her. She tried raising her arms to shield her eyes but couldn’t move. Her wrists were strapped down. So were her legs.
She took a deep breath, trying to hold the fear at bay.
Cold metal pressed against her arms and seeped through her shirt, chilling her back. Weldon had strapped her to the autopsy table. Bile rose into her throat. She swallowed it down and turned her head to the left, catching a glimpse of the walk-in refrigerator.
Thank God. Weldon had strapped her to the prep table in the kitchen—not the autopsy table.
Her short-lived relief withered and died. Where were Megan and Reid? Were they still alive?
She turned her head to the right. The busted refrigerator door had been propped back into place, covering the entrance to the refrigerator. A metal rod had been bent and twisted around the hinges, holding the door closed. There was only one reason for Weldon to have done that and it wasn’t to keep control of his clone. G-2 was dead.
“Reid? Megan?” she said, her voice strained and weak.
“It’s about time you woke up.” Weldon stepped into her line of vision. “Your friends are safe—for now. The seal’s broken on the door so they won’t freeze, but they’ll be pretty damn cold when they wake up.”
“What did you do to them?” Amber asked, straining against the straps binding her to the table.
“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Mortals are just weak. The other cop was out cold. I gave Megan a little tap and knocked her out. I’d never hurt her. She’s much too important to my research. Don’t you see?”
Amber glared and didn’t respond. Her mind was furiously searching for a means of escape.
“I saw you snooping around Lifeblood after the murders. My vampire tried to capture you when he went after Megan. But she was gone and another vampire saved you. Who is he?”
Amber held her tongue. She’d learn more keeping silent than by antagonizing him. And anything she had to say would most likely piss him off.
“You are a quiet one. Aren’t you, detective?” He smiled. “Yes, I know you’re a detective. I know all about you and your partner. But what I don’t know is who that vampire was that saved you.”
Had her arms been free, she would have folded them across her chest. Instead, she turned her head toward the walk-in freezer.
His bony fingers pinched her chin. He jerked her head around, forcing eye contact. “Who is he? Why was he interested in saving a mortal?”
Imagining a brick wall, she blocked his efforts to read her mind.
“How are you doing that?”He leaned forward and sniffed. “Why don’t you smell mortal? Why didn’t you taste mortal?” Fear briefly flashed behind his eyes. “What are you?”
She bared her teeth—her normal, mortal teeth. He hadn’t converted her. Thank God. “I told you. I’m your worst nightmare.”
Ha! A bound dhampir was a threat to no one, especially a vampire.
A demonic light flashed behind his eyes, turning them from brown to red. “Then I guess I’ll just have to experiment on you and find out. Won’t I?”
Dear God. What have I done?
She swallowed against a paralyzing fear, working frantically at the leather straps binding her to the table. She twisted and turned her hands until sweat rolled over her wrists. Miraculously, one hand slipped free.
She cast a terrified glance behind her. Weldon had stepped out of the room. Had he returned to the morgue to get his tools? The bone saw? Or a rib spreader?
Salty tears stung her eyes as she reached for the leather strap binding her left hand. Rusted metal buckles like those on a belt allowed the straps to be pulled through and tightened. The restraints were as old as the sanatorium.
Once her left arm was free, she sat up, frantically working the straps loose from her ankles. Before she could free her left leg, Weldon returned.
He dropped his supplies. Metal clattered to the floor. Glass shattered. His fingers curled around her shoulders, forcing her back down. “You bitch.”
“Let go.” She tried twisting free, but his grip was too strong—too powerful. It felt as if he were crushing her bones.
He pulled a strap up from the table leg and looped it around her neck. Then suddenly, the pressure eased. A roaring filled her head—a sound not unlike an enraged lion.
Heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope, she sat up on the steel table. Gerard had Weldon in a chokehold, pulling him away from her. His face was a mask of rage. His beautiful eyes flashed blue fire before turning a flaming red.
Weldon snarled and tore free of Gerard’s grip. Gerard came at him with fists raised. Weldon evaded.
Where the hell is Vincent?
Before she’d completed the thought, the freezer door sailed across the room. “Megan!” Vincent stormed inside, rushing to his wife.
Amber freed her legs from the straps and jumped off the table. Megan’s bag lay on the floor where Weldon had dropped it. The bone saw lay beside it. Her hand hovered over it. The saw required electricity to work and she wasn’t likely to do much damage wielding it like a club. The shattered remains of a glass vial with a purple stopper lay beside a twenty-two gauge needle. An empty plastic syringe had skittered across the floor to land beneath the prep table.
It looked as if Weldon had planned to draw her blood first. And then what? Saw off an arm to see if it’d grow back like the appendage of a starfish?
Oh hell no. Weldon wasn’t going to experiment on her or anyone else ever again.
The rage returned, filling her with strength and purpose. She reached inside Megan’s medical bag and withdrew a pre-filled syringe. She lightly depressed the plunger, releasing a single drop of yellowish fluid that smelled faintly of garlic. Vampire sedative.
Armed and ready, she jumped to her feet. Gerard and Weldon looked like mismatched wrestlers. A welterweight fighting a heavy weight. Weldon was faster, dodging Gerard’s inhumanly fast punches. But was he stronger? Could Gerard take him if he got in another blow? It didn’t matter. Amber wasn’t about to give Weldon a chance to hurt Gerard again. She’d knock his ass out first.
She took a step forward, waiting for the opportunity to attack, hoping Vincent would come out of the freezer and assist Gerard, thereby increasing both their odds. But Vincent was more worried about Megan than her…or Gerard.
Weldon whirled out of Gerard’s reach again. Amber stepped closer, syringe raised. A hand grabbed her wrist, jerking her back. The musty stench of mildew teased her nostrils as strong, bony fingers held her wrist in a vice-like grip. Turning her head, she faced her attacker.
“Surratt.”
Chapter 26
Amber stared into the hateful eyes of the vampire who’d created her mother’s killer. She waited for him to flash his fangs or snarl like the monster he was, but he did neither. Sympathy—and something akin to resignation shone in his dark eyes.
“Let go!” She twisted her arm in his vice-like grip. He didn’t release her.
“You mustn’t interfere,” he said in an accented, almost reverent voice as deep and smooth as honey.
Tension drained from her body. Her fears abated. For some reason, she just couldn’t work up the indignation the situation deserved. She was consciously aware of being under his control, but she felt emotionally detached as she watched Gerard and Weldon battle.
Her interest was piqued when the air around her stirred and Nicolas
appeared as if from nowhere. Amber had a vague sense of seeing his blurred form rush in from the hall. When Gerard grabbed Weldon by the arm and spun him around, Nicolas stepped behind him, blocking his retreat when Weldon would have escaped.
Gerard slammed his fist into Weldon’s face. His head snapped back, hard enough to snap a mortal’s spine. He shook his head as if he’d bumped it. Blood flew from his mouth and nose, spattering the walls and floor. Nicolas jumped back, avoiding the spray.
Weldon was unable to evade Gerard’s next punch. Or the next. Gerard pummeled him until his face was nothing more than a pulpy mass of blood and bone.
Choking and gurgling, he slid to the ground in a boneless heap. Exposed brain matter sizzled before his body evaporated in a puff of ash and smoke.
Gerard rubbed his knuckles against his palm, smearing them with blood. Then he turned. His eyes went wide, the red draining away.
“Don’t hurt her,” he said, his voice tight with fear.
Surratt nodded once and let go. Released from his grip, Amber’s thoughts and feelings returned, relief the dominant emotion.
“Gerard!” She hurled herself against his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close as she rained kisses over his bruised face.
He kissed her back. Deeply. Thoroughly. Then without warning he broke free, staring into her face with his heart in his eyes.
Grazing her cheek with his abraded knuckles, he whispered. “Are you all right?’
She nodded, unable to speak. He tucked her under his arm, shifting his gaze from Surratt to Nicolas.
“I don’t know whether to thank you for blocking Weldon’s escape or beat the shit out of you for leading him to Amber.” He pointed to Surratt.
Nicolas arched his brows and looked at Amber. His gaze was so intense, she couldn’t hold it. “Amber’s my daughter. I wouldn’t let Surratt within a mile of her if I thought he posed a threat.”
Blood roared in her ears. Greg Buckley wasn’t her father.
She raised her chin, meeting Nicolas’ warm brown gaze. “Did you rape my mother?” she asked, knowing the answer before he gave it.