Darkness Rises ig-4

by Dianne Duvall

  Roland frowned. “How do you know? I thought you didn’t meet Ami until Seth brought her to North Carolina.”

  “She has the same dreams over and over again and they are more detailed than any dreams I have ever been in. Only pure memory could spawn those.”

  Sarah frowned. “What did you see?”

  Lisette swallowed hard. Moisture welled in her eyes. “They tortured her,” she choked out. “I mean they really tortured her. They . . . dissected her . . . and experimented on her over and over again while she was conscious. She felt every incision. Every burn. Every electrical shock. And, because she heals even more swiftly than Roland, she didn’t die.”

  Sarah touched a hand to her mouth, horror filling her features.

  Roland’s face tightened with fury.

  “Why?” Sarah whispered. “Why would they do that?”

  Zach held his breath.

  Lisette shook her head. “They must have found out she was a gifted one.”

  Relief rushed through him.

  “Seth was right to protect us all this time,” she continued. “If you saw the things they did to her . . .” She wiped her tears away impatiently. “After only two or three days, I began to fear falling asleep.”

  Zach had the oddest urge to comfort her.

  “I had to start sleeping at home every few days just so I could get some rest without being locked into those nightmares.” She turned her attention to Zach. “There was no way in hell I was going to let mercenaries get their hands on her again. I guess I became a little obsessed with her safety. And, even though Emrys is dead and rotting in hell, his colleagues Donald and Nelson are not. I know they should pose no further threat because Seth and David wiped their memories, but”—she shrugged and offered them all a sad smile—“I can’t seem to shake my fear for her. So I followed Ami when she would go out alone at night and saw you with her.”

  “Has Étienne seen her dreams, too?” Zach asked.

  Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know my brother?”

  “I know all of you.” Not really. He knew their names and some of their backstories. Bits and pieces he had overheard during his visits and while listening to the Others grumble.

  “Étienne has seen the same dreams I have,” she answered finally and looked at Roland. “That’s why he has softened toward Bastien, by the way. Something else the dreams revealed to us is how gentle Bastien was with Ami right after her rescue. How much he helped her overcome the paralyzing fear those monsters instilled in her.”

  “He killed Ewen,” Roland reminded her.

  “I know. But, if you could see how he is with her when no one else is around . . .”

  “That’s all?” Zach persisted. “You saw nothing else in her dreams?”

  She shrugged. “They weren’t all memory-based. Some were the usual whimsical variety in which she looked up at the night sky and saw three moons instead of one. That sort of thing.”

  Which were likely just as memory-based as the others. Fortunately, neither Lisette nor her brother seemed to have figured that out.

  “Anyway, when I saw you with her, I asked Roland who you were.”

  “And I didn’t know,” Roland said, “so I began watching over Ami, too.”

  “Me, too,” Sarah added.

  “Does her husband know you’re spying on her?”

  “No,” Roland admitted, “and we want to keep it that way.”

  “Why?” Zach couldn’t resist asking, “because you’re afraid Marcus might think you are sniffing after her?”

  Roland lashed out with his fist again, the force of the blow snapping Zach’s head back.

  And there went the fun.

  His own ire rising, Zach used a combination of telekinesis and brute strength increased by adrenaline to burst from his restraints. Restraints no one else in this room could have broken.

  The others ducked as broken lengths of chain went flying.

  The women’s eyes widened as he spread his wings, the tips brushing the walls on either side of the room.

  Roland drew swords and stepped in front of the women.

  “I’ve indulged you enough,” Zach said. “Hit me again and you will not survive my retaliation.”

  “Who are you?” Lisette asked, her eyes straying to his wings as they had so often.

  Did he have her to thank for the bedding that had protected them from the damaging chain links? He would peek into her thoughts, but generally disliked doing so. Most people were unaware of the ugly things that could reside in the darkest corners of their minds and he always seemed to find it.

  “Call Marcus,” Roland ordered Sarah over his shoulder.

  When she reached for her cell phone, Zach raised a hand to stop her. “Don’t. Marcus has enough on his plate. He doesn’t need the added worry of this, and it truly isn’t necessary. I mean Ami no harm.”

  She hesitated.

  As did Roland. He even straightened from his fighting stance and lowered his weapons. “Added worry? What’s going on with Marcus?”

  Sarah nodded, brow furrowed. “What do you mean he has a lot on his plate? Is he worried about Ami, too?”

  That was an understatement. And not his story to tell.

  “If Marcus wants you to know what’s going on with them, he’ll tell you.”

  That didn’t improve Roland’s mood. “You expect me to believe he told you?”

  “No. Because he didn’t.” Zach shrugged. “I hear things.”

  Sarah bit her lip. “Has Ami refused to let Marcus transform her?”

  All those in the Immortal Guardian community who weren’t in the loop thought Ami was a gifted one.

  He shook his head. “It isn’t my place to say.” Before anyone could speak again, he turned to Lisette. “Don’t pry into their thoughts, seeking answers. I know the temptation is great but—as I said—if Marcus and Ami want you to know, they will tell you.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” she said, face troubled.

  All three of them looked troubled. More troubled now than they had when he had escaped his bonds.

  Zach folded his wings in and tucked them against his back. His curiosity had been appeased. He’d been entertained. Now it was over. “I believe we’ve said all there is to say.” He headed for the front door.

  No one moved to stop him.

  He paused, one hand on the knob. “I wouldn’t mention this to Seth, if I were you. He has a lot on his plate, too, and this will just piss him off.”

  Opening the door, he stepped outside and leaped into the sky.

  Krysta started to konk out around noon. Étienne watched her yawn, then released a jaw-cracking yawn himself.

  She gave him a sleepy grin. “Made you yawn.”

  He laughed. “Yes, you did. Why don’t you go ahead and get some rest? You can’t have actually slept in that chair while watching over me.”

  “I think I may have dozed off once or twice.”

  “That’s not enough. You need rest. You were wounded tonight.” He frowned. His own wounds had healed for the most part. Only a deep sleep or more blood would finish the job at this point. But hers . . . “How are your wounds?”

  “They hurt like hell, but I’m used to it. What about you?” She glanced at the bright sunlight outlining the faded window curtains. “You’re kind of stranded here, aren’t you, until sunset? Or will Richart be coming back for you?”

  “If I haven’t worn out my welcome, I’d like to stay. I trust Richart not to give away your identity or location. But Chris is like a bloodhound. Once he has the scent . . .” He shrugged. “I want to be here to run interference should his men find you.”

  She frowned. “Are you sure Sean is safe?”

  “Yes. The first thing Chris will do once he learns your name is track down your home address.” And race to her doorstep. Hmm. “Perhaps I should have Richart teleport us to . . .” He thought for a moment. “Where would Chris not think to look? Our home in France?”

  “You want to teleport me to
France?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, one minute I would be here and the next I would be across the ocean in France?”

  “It’s just a thought.”

  A long pause ensued. “You know, I just don’t think I’m up for that right now.”

  He smiled and touched her hair. “It has been a long night.”

  “Do you really think your human friends will burst in here and threaten me?”

  “They might burst in, if you don’t answer the door. But, with me here, they won’t have the balls to threaten you.”

  “Why don’t you get some rest, too, then?”

  He nodded, but didn’t think he would succeed even if he tried. The futon that barely kept their asses from hitting the floor was old and lumpy and badly needed to be replaced. “I’ll stretch out here on the futon, if you really don’t mind.”

  “Do you want to take Sean’s bed?”

  He shook his head. “Sean doesn’t want me in the house. I doubt he would appreciate my confiscating his bed.”

  “You’re probably right on that, but he’ll get over it.”

  Étienne smiled. “No, thank you.” He stood when she did.

  “Okay.” She started to stretch, then winced and dropped her arms.

  If he knew Roland better, Étienne would call him and ask him to heal her. Unfortunately, Roland had kept him—and everyone else, save Sarah and Marcus—at a distance. And really didn’t trust humans.

  Krysta headed for her bedroom. “You should know I’m a very light sleeper, so . . .”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t try to drink your blood while you sleep?”

  Her cheeks flushed guiltily. “Yes.”

  “I would never do so, with or without your permission, unless both of our lives depended upon it. I wouldn’t want to risk infecting you.”

  She stared at him as if she truly wanted to believe him.

  And he hoped she did. Or would. In time.

  He bowed as she turned and entered her bedroom. He expected her to close and lock her door, not that it could keep him out.

  Instead, she drew back the covers and climbed into bed.

  Étienne turned off the overhead light and attempted to stretch out on the futon. His feet and most of his calves hung over the arm. One of the metal bars beneath the cushions dug into his back.

  He sighed. He could always wait until Krysta drifted off, then sleep on the floor. That would probably be the more comfortable solution.

  He heard bedding rustle and closed his eyes, trying not to picture Krysta sprawled across the covers under other, less appropriate circumstances.

  She laughed.

  Opening his eyes, he glanced at the doorway.

  She was leaning over in bed, peeking at him. “Comfortable?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She shook her head. “You’re lying.”

  “With good intentions.”

  Still grinning, she waved him toward her. “Go ahead and come sleep in here with me.”

  His body went rock hard at the notion even though he knew damned well she didn’t mean it the way he wanted her to mean it.

  “I . . .” want to rip your clothes off with my teeth, so I don’t think it would be a good idea. “That’s very kind of you, but . . .” I really do want to rip your clothes off with my teeth and explore every inch of your beautiful body. “I’m fine.”

  “Your legs are hanging off the end by a good foot and a half and I can’t even sleep on that lumpy piece of crap when I’m drunk.”

  He smiled. “I’ve slept on worse surfaces.”

  “Have you ever slept in a coffin?”

  “Yes, but only as a practical joke.”

  “What about in a crypt?”

  “More than once when it took me longer than expected to track down a nasty vampire and I couldn’t find any other shelter before the sun rose.”

  “Was the crypt more comfortable than my futon?”

  He grinned. “Hands down.”

  Again she laughed. “Then get in here. We’re adults. We can do this.”

  He couldn’t find the strength to refuse. “Merci.” Rising, he strode into her room and circled the bed. “I’m surprised you trust me enough to sleep beside me.”

  “To be honest, I am, too. You really aren’t going to bite me?”

  “No.” He settled beside her on top of the covers.

  “Any plans to cop a feel?”

  Her scent enveloped him as he turned his head to stare at her. “Would you mind if I did?”

  “I’m still considering that one.”

  Yes. This was definitely a bad idea.

  “What is it about you that makes me want to forget what you are,” she asked softly, “that makes me believe you are what you are and not one of the vampires I hate so much?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps the same thing about you that makes me want to believe you won’t drive a stake through my heart or chop off my head as soon as I doze off.”

  Curling onto her side to face him, she raised one hand and drew delicate fingers down his cheek as her gaze roved his face. “Truce?”

  “Truce.”

  “Good night, Étienne.”

  Heart racing, he clasped her fingers and brought them to his lips. “Good night, Krysta.”

  She fell asleep holding his hand.

  He wanted to stay awake and savor that. The sweetness of it. But the healing sleep swiftly claimed him.

  Étienne dreamed vampires hunted him.

  No. The vampires hunted Krysta. And the dream was hers. He could always tell when someone else’s dream became his because he first saw them from that person’s perspective. And he wasn’t a slender, significantly shorter woman.

  Usually, he could separate himself from the dreamer and participate as he would in his own dreams. He had never been able to do that when Ami’s dreams had seized him. He had been as much a victim of the atrocities committed against her as she had in those dreams and often dreaded sleeping when he stayed the day at David’s.

  As Krysta confronted the vampires and began to swing her shoto swords, Étienne left her form and joined in the fight as himself.

  She grinned when she saw him. “About time!” she quipped.

  Étienne laughed and engaged the vamps, who were much more organized and swung their weapons with greater control and accuracy in the dream.

  A dozen vampires fell. Two dozen replaced them.

  Then Sean arrived and was somehow thrust into the middle of everything.

  Krysta’s brother had skills. But—without whatever edge Krysta’s ability to see auras gave her—he fared badly, accumulating wound after wound as Krysta fought to get to his side.

  The more panicked she became, the more wounds she suffered and the weaker she grew.

  Étienne couldn’t reach her. Every time he cut down one vampire a second took his place.

  One vamp disarmed and captured Sean. Pulling him back against his chest, the vampire sent Krysta a cruel smile.

  “Kill him!” the others cried.

  “No!” Krysta screamed.

  “Remember, the male is the one we’re after,” another voice said softly, strangely calm amidst the slaverings of the vampires. “We want the immortal alive. The human female is expendable.”

  What?

  “Don’t hurt him!” Krysta begged, her eyes still on her brother. “Please!”

  “Rendezvous with target in one mile,” the same calm voice announced.

  Étienne stopped fighting. Something was wrong.

  The vampires converged upon Krysta, yelling and taunting. None spoke with the voice Étienne had heard.

  The vampire holding Sean began to sing in a falsetto voice, “I feel pretty! Oh, so pretty! I feel pretty and witty and gaaaaaay!”

  What the hell was with that song?

  Krysta vanished.

  Frowning, Étienne spun in a circle. “Krysta?”

 
; “Étienne?”

  “Where are you?” He resumed fighting, doing his damnedest to reach her brother while the vamp who held him continued to sing in that weird high voice.

  “Étienne!”

  He looked around, but still couldn’t find her. “Krysta?”

  “Étienne! Wake up!”

  He jerked awake.

  Krysta knelt beside him on the bed, shaking the hell out of him. “Jeeze. It’s a good thing I didn’t want to stake you. You would have slept right through it!”

  Groaning, he sat up. “I sleep deeper when I’m healing. What’s wrong?”

  “Your cell phone has been ringing like crazy and that damned song is making me mental.”

  When the singing started up again, he yanked his phone out of his pocket and answered.

  “Yes?”

  “We have a serious problem,” Chris Reordon said without preamble.

  Damn it. “No, we don’t. I—”

  “Richart told me you left quite a mess at Duke tonight.”

  Étienne frowned. “Yes.”

  “So we have a problem. I sent my cleaning crew over there ASAP and they didn’t find dick.”

  Étienne stood, alarm striking. “What?”

  “There was nothing. No bodies. No blood. No vampire clothing or bling. No dental fillings or caps. No humans freaking out. Nada.”

  “That’s not possible. There should have been a couple dozen bodies—”

  “There weren’t. There was, however, a large area of wet pavement where no sprinklers could reach. And the surveillance tapes for the security cameras in that area of the campus are all gone.”

  Étienne swore.

  “Exactly. Where are you? Are you still with the woman?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Hang up, call Richart, and have him teleport you to safety.”

  “That isn’t—”

  “You aren’t getting it. The group that attacked you now has the surveillance tapes. They also have connections or they wouldn’t have been able to clean that mess up so quickly. They can use the tapes to trace the license plate on her car. They probably already know where you are. Get the hell out of there. Now.”

  Étienne looked to Krysta, who watched him with concern. “We have to go.”