Darkness Rises ig-4

by Dianne Duvall

  Lisette stared down at the unconscious male Roland dumped onto the floor of the safe house they had claimed for the day.

  He was incredibly handsome. Dark, wavy hair fell below his shoulders. A muscled chest devoid of hair tapered to a narrow waist and slim hips encased in black leather.

  Her gaze went to his wings.

  They were beautiful. The same tan as his skin at their base, the nearly translucent wings darkened to black at their tips and would span twelve or fourteen feet when fully extended.

  The man himself was taller than Seth, who stood a good six foot eight or thereabouts.

  “Do you know him?” she asked Roland as he left the room.

  “No.” He returned, carrying titanium chains thicker than her biceps that humans would probably have to use a forklift to move. Dumping the lot on the floor, he crouched next to their prisoner.

  “Is he an immortal?” Sarah asked as she took a position beside her husband, weapons drawn.

  “He must be,” Roland mumbled, taking the man by the throat and dragging him upright. “Vampires don’t have wings.”

  “Wait.” Lisette halted him before he could start wrapping the man in chains. Hurrying to the only bedroom in the small house, she yanked the covers off the bed and took them into the living room.

  “What’s that for?” Roland asked with a scowl.

  She knelt beside him. “If he’s immortal, Seth won’t respond well to him being damaged.” Dropping the bedding, she leaned forward and tentatively touched one of his wings.

  So soft. Like the delicate strands of hair on a newborn baby’s head.

  Her heart began to pound as she gently took both wings and folded them in close to his back. Holding them in place with one hand, she wrapped the sheet and blanket around him.

  “What’s wrong?” Roland asked with a scowl. “Your heart is beating faster.”

  That part of being an Immortal Guardian sucked. There really were very few secrets among their ranks because of their damned heightened senses. “Are you sure he’s an immortal? I can’t smell the virus on him.”

  “Can you smell it on me?”

  “Barely.”

  “What about David and Seth?”

  “No.”

  “Then there’s your answer. He’s an immortal. He just must be old as hell.” Once she finished and sat back, he started wrapping the chains around and around the stranger.

  “If he’s that old,” Sarah murmured, “wouldn’t you know him, honey?”

  Lisette snorted. “As antisocial as Roland is, he wouldn’t even know me if I hadn’t made myself a nuisance.”

  The dour immortal’s face actually lightened with a smile. “You weren’t the nuisance. Your brothers were.”

  She grinned. He may be curt and surly with the others, but he had always been kind to her.

  Soon the winged mystery immortal was swathed tightly in chains from his neck to his feet. Why did seeing him like that bother her so? She didn’t know him. Had never met him. And had good reason to dislike him.

  “What now?” she asked as the three of them stood in a semicircle and stared down at him.

  “We wait until he wakes up, then extract information.”

  She glanced at the window. “Dawn is approaching.”

  Roland followed her gaze. “Go home. We’ll take first watch.”

  “I want to be here when you question him.”

  “If he wakes before sunset, we’ll await your return.”

  She nodded, strangely reluctant to leave. Giving their prisoner one last look, she said her good-byes, then headed out into the night.

  Étienne paced outside Krysta’s home, listening to her shoot the breeze with her brother while they prepared for the night’s hunt.

  This was ridiculous. He had awoken this afternoon, full of anticipation, eager to see Krysta again, and hadn’t wasted a second getting here once the sun had set. Even Cameron, his Second, had noticed something was amiss. He hadn’t said anything, but Étienne had caught the What’s up with you? looks Cam had shot him while doling out weapons.

  A slender shadow crossed the curtains. Étienne glimpsed Krysta in the living room. She was arming herself with more weapons than he had realized she carried. Damned near as many as he carried.

  Why did that turn him on?

  He sighed.

  Was this what he had come to? Stalking her like one of those freaks on the Internet you heard about on the news?

  Yes, he imagined Cam telling him.

  Had he really sunk so low?

  He had even been tempted to circle around to the other side of the house, peer through her bedroom window, and watch her dress, but that had just seemed too sleazy. Besides, if he ever saw Krysta naked, he wanted it to be on her terms with—

  Wait. What the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t going to see Krysta naked. He couldn’t see Krysta naked. She bore what was obviously a deep-seated hatred for vampires, from which she didn’t differentiate him, and would destroy him in an instant if given the opportunity.

  Even if he managed to lessen her desire to decapitate him, there was still the whole mortal-immortal thing. He wasn’t sure she was a gifted one. If her brother was her half brother, she may not possess the advanced DNA needed to transform without becoming vampire. Not that she would want to anyway because of the whole I hate vampires roadblock.

  Étienne straightened.

  Was he really trying to think his way into a relationship with a woman who wanted him dead? Was he that lonely?

  Or was she just that irresistible?

  Don’t answer that, he warned himself and blamed all of the happy pappy lovestruck crap that had surrounded him of late for his current confusion. First Roland had fallen in love with Sarah, who clearly was delusional for thinking him sweet.

  Then Marcus had found Ami. The jury was still out on whether or not their relationship was going to have a happy ending because Ami had not yet asked Marcus to transform her.

  Richart had fallen hard for Jenna, who—Étienne was very pleased to note—made his brother very happy.

  Even that bastard Bastien had fallen in love with and married Dr. Lipton.

  The jangling of keys shook Étienne from his musings. He ducked out of sight as the front door swung open.

  Krysta exited first, her shoto swords clutched in one hand, her coat in the other.

  Étienne silently cursed as his pulse picked up its pace.

  Sean exited next, carrying a pile of heavy books, and tromped down the stairs.

  Étienne had learned from his shameless eavesdropping sessions (there had been more of those than he cared to admit in the two weeks he had been following her) that Sean was in medical school and usually studied in the car while she hunted.

  Krysta’s eyes scanned the area as they crossed the yard to their crappy car.

  Both doors groaned when pried open. And the damned engine barely turned over.

  Though Krysta worked days and Sean weekends, freeing up the nights for hunting, they barely made ends meet.

  Étienne had been tempted to call in the network to make all the repairs the car needed, but that would bring the sibling vampire hunters to Chris Reordon’s attention.

  Not a good idea.

  Étienne raced through the countryside, following the shabby vehicle and making sure forest, field, or structures always hid him from view.

  Looked like they were heading for Duke tonight.

  The hunt was on.

  That’s right, dullards, Krysta thought, mentally smiling as she used Étienne’s term, come along, follow the poor, unsuspecting undergrad who doesn’t know you’re there because she’s busy drunk dialing her ex.

  That one was always popular. There were times, in fact, when she could actually hear some of the vampires laugh over the crazy-ass things she said or shouted into the phone while staggering up the path. Perhaps, in another life, she could have been an actress.

  There had been no vamp action around the frat houses tonight.
Rather she had found them lingering in Research Park, waiting for an egghead to stumble out after working on whatever it was he or she researched until the wee hours.

  Along the sidewalk, Krysta led them between two buildings, and into a darker area near the loading dock. She thought there had been lights back here the last time she had passed by. The vamps must have broken them, intending to feed on their victim where none would see.

  Perfect.

  Her heart began to pound, not with fear as she prepared to spin around and fight, but with anticipation. Étienne was nearby. She knew it. She could feel it. And she wasn’t going to let him snatch away her prize this time. She was going to confront the vamps before he had the chance.

  Drawing her shoto swords, she spun around at the same moment Étienne appeared behind the vamps.

  Ooh. Six vampires. Good thing he had come.

  Étienne’s brows drew down in a frown as he met her gaze. “Damn it! You’re early!”

  She grinned. “Nope. You’re late.”

  The vampires’ faces went blank with surprise. Their gazes zigzagged between the two of them.

  “Oh shit,” one said, his face filling with fear as he stared at Étienne. “An Immortal Guardian.”

  Gasps from his vampire cohorts.

  A what?

  Another vampire looked at Krysta. “She’s human. She must be his Second.”

  “Bastien has a mortal Second,” another said.

  Who had a what now?

  Krysta was given no time to ask.

  Their faces contorted with fury. “Bastien the Deceiver!”

  “Death to Bastien!”

  “Kick their fucking asses!”

  The vampires drew weapons and attacked.

  Krysta inched backward and swung her swords as multiple orange auras shot toward her.

  The vampires must think they would have an easier time killing her than they would Étienne.

  Smart vamps.

  Sucked for her, though.

  Even as she struck lethal blows with her blades, slicing the throat of the first vampire to reach her, pain streaked through her thigh as another vamp’s blade cut into her flesh.

  Krysta gritted her teeth and swung at the orange aura leaping away from her.

  Score! Tit for tat. She’d cut his femoral artery, the bastard!

  Limping backward, she kept her swords in constant motion. Glowing orange auras swirled around her, so numerous that fear threatened to paralyze her.

  She struck more blows, aiming at auras and hitting the flesh they preceded.

  The vampires struck blows as well. Cuts stung her arms, back, legs. Just as she was silently celebrating a particularly good blow, one of the vamps circled around behind her and hit her in the head, landing a simple punch with his fist, backed by preternatural strength, that felt like a freaking anvil.

  The world around her lit up with sparkly things that had nothing to do with auras. All strength left her limbs as agony pounded her head.

  Krysta staggered. Her thoughts scattered.

  Somewhere a lion roared.

  The glowing orange auras surrounding her fell away as shining purple and white rolled through them like a bowling ball felling pins.

  Krysta’s weapons clattered to the ground, her fingers unable to grasp anything but her aching head.

  She sank to her knees.

  “Krysta!”

  Chapter 4

  Étienne wasn’t usually one to panic. Even as a mortal, when fighting, he had always kept his cool.

  But seeing Krysta felled by a vampire’s fist . . .

  “Krysta!” he called again, after severing that fist and leaving the vampire to bleed out.

  His swords swung like the blades of a propeller, cutting through the vampires as though they were no more than air.

  Had it been more than a glancing blow, wouldn’t she be down on the ground and either unconscious or dying from a fractured skull? Sarah had nearly died when Bastien had fractured her skull. Her ears had even bled.

  Étienne tried to see if Krysta bled from her ears, but couldn’t take his eyes off the damned vampires.

  Finally, the last vamp succumbed to Étienne’s swords.

  Racing to Krysta’s side, he knelt before her and dropped his weapons. “Are you okay?” He clasped her shoulder with one hand and gently raised her chin with the other.

  Her lovely face was pinched with pain. “I’m okay,” she gritted. “My head just hurts like a bitch. I think I might have a concussion. My vision is all fuzzy.”

  Her pupils were a little dilated, too.

  “What about you?” she murmured. “Are you okay?”

  Shock, pleasure, and all kinds of things he refused to examine too closely flowed through him. “I’m fine. Hardly a scratch on me.”

  “Must be nice. Help me up, will you?”

  “Of course.” He helped her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her when she swayed.

  “The bastards all came after me,” she complained, leaning into him.

  Did she realize the trust she was placing in him?

  He cleared his throat, trying to ignore how good it felt to have her tucked up against his side. “Vampires are often cowards and seek the weaker target.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I just meant—”

  “I get it. I just don’t like it.”

  “That I’m stronger than you are?”

  “Yes. What’s an Immortal Guardian?”

  Étienne swore silently. He had hoped she hadn’t caught that.

  “A what?” he stalled, not knowing how to answer.

  “You heard me. An Immortal Guardian.” Stepping away, she clung to his arm until she was steady, then released him and met his gaze. “The vampires called you an Immortal Guardian.”

  His cursed mind went blank.

  “They also called me a Second. What’s a Second?”

  Still nothing. What had Roland told Sarah when faced with such questions?

  “Who is Bastien the Deceiver?”

  He swore aloud then. “Aren’t you supposed to have a concussion? How are you remembering all of this?”

  “You’re stalling.”

  Yes, he was.

  Étienne paced away several steps. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you secrets that are not solely my own to share,” he tried to explain.

  “So there are more like you.”

  Étienne stared at her, wanting to trust her.

  A sharp pain pierced his neck.

  Wincing, he reached up, felt something protruding from the skin, and removed it.

  “What’s that?” Krysta asked.

  His blood went cold as he stared down at the tiny object his fingers clutched.

  “Is that a tranquilizer dart?” she asked, voice full of confusion.

  Yes, it was. Merde.

  “Run,” he ordered as weakness began to infiltrate him.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen. This shouldn’t be possible.

  “What?” She started to approach him.

  Étienne shook his head. “Run!” He closed the distance between them, retrieved her weapons from the ground, and urged her toward the corner of the nearest building. “Call your brother. Choose a safe place for him to meet you a few blocks from here and run there. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. And don’t let anyone follow you home.”

  “I don’t understand. What’s going on? Why is your accent getting thicker? What—?”

  Another sting. Étienne yanked another dart from the back of his neck and swore foully. The shooters were definitely behind them.

  His knees weakened. He didn’t carry the autoinjector containing the antidote anymore. He hadn’t thought there was a reason to. The human threat had been extinguished.

  Hadn’t it?

  “Please, Krysta. Just trust me on this. Go! Maintenant!”

  As
his strength waned, he shoved her hard and turned to face his attackers.

  Still dizzy, Krysta stumbled and fell to her hands and knees behind the building. The weapons Étienne had thrust into her arms hit the ground a moment before gravel abraded her palms.

  What the hell?

  Cursing, she dusted off her stinging hands, grabbed the weapons, and spun around, ready to blister his ears.

  Étienne staggered, as if he had lost his balance. Turning back to face the way they had come, he gave her his profile. His eyes flashed a brilliant amber.

  Bullets slammed into his chest, the guns firing them barely making a sound. His body jerked again and again as blood sprayed from too many wounds to count.

  Krysta stared in horror. “Étienne!”

  The first wave ended.

  He turned his head, met her gaze. “Run, damn you!” he growled. Blood poured from his mouth and down his chin. Drawing his swords, he roared and leapt forward, out of sight.

  Krysta’s feet glued themselves to the ground. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

  He had pushed her out of the way to save her. If Étienne hadn’t shoved her behind the building, she would have been shot to death beside him.

  Her body began to shake uncontrollably.

  He could have run. He could have left her there for whoever the hell it was to kill her.

  Screams lit the night. The gunfire resumed.

  Krysta transferred one of her swords to her left hand, drew out her cell phone, and dialed with shaking fingers.

  “Yeah,” her brother answered on the first ring.

  “I need you,” she hissed. “Now. Behind . . . Shit!” It took her a moment to get her bearings. “We’re in Research Park behind . . . or on the side of that Environmental Whatever Building. Just find me. Come quiet and stay low. Someone’s shooting at us.”

  “What?”

  “Just come now! Please! And hurry!”

  Pocketing the phone, she drew in a deep breath (which wasn’t nearly as calming as she had hoped it would be), gripped her weapons, and headed for the edge of the building.

  Crouching down, she peered around it.

  Soldiers?

  Men garbed in black camo and armed to the teeth with silencer-equipped automatic weapons were doing their damnedest to kill Étienne. Only they didn’t seem to actually want to kill him. They seemed to want to slow him down or weaken him with blood loss and whatever was in those darts.