Darkness Rises ig-4

by Dianne Duvall

  Okay. Did you hear that?

  He smiled. Yes.

  Can you hear everything else I’m thinking?

  He was silent a moment. No. Your barriers are still in place, so I can only hear what you wish me to hear.

  Good.

  He pursed his lips. Any naughty thoughts about me floating around up there?

  Many many naughty thoughts.

  He stepped closer to her. In case anyone is looking . . . Resting his hands on her waist, he drew her up against him and proceeded to kiss the stuffing out of her.

  Fire licked through Krysta’s veins as she locked her arms around his neck. Her heart pounded a rapid beat as he slid his hands up her rib cage, his thumbs nearing her tingling breasts.

  He murmured something in French in her mind.

  Say it in English, she reminded him.

  How you tempt me.

  Good, because he tempted the hell out of her.

  When he dragged his lips away, she was happy to discover his breathing was as ragged as hers.

  “Good night,” he said, voice low and hoarse.

  “Good night.”

  Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips.

  Krysta didn’t have to fake a stumble as she turned to walk away from him. Her knees were weak. All this time she had thought that was just corny crap found in chick flicks. She hadn’t realized passion really could weaken your knees.

  She shook her head at herself. She was twenty-seven years old and no virgin. She should already know that, shouldn’t she?

  As she walked up the sidewalk, exploring the quadrangles that hosted her favorite frat houses, she caught periodic glimpses of Étienne’s pretty white and purple aura leaping from roof to roof.

  She wished she could do that. That would be so much fun.

  Testing. Testing. Can you hear me? she asked.

  He laughed. Yes.

  When you said we’d be hunting together, I didn’t think you meant as we have been.

  I may not like it, but you do make good bait.

  She was getting used to hearing his warm, deep voice in her head. Can I drunk dial you? Her fictional drunken phone calls worked well to distract any vamps tailing her.

  Anytime we aren’t hunting.

  She smiled. I’m not a big drinker.

  Nor am I. Alcohol has no effect on us, so there isn’t much point.

  Oh. Well, I was just going to fake it anyway.

  As you have before. I admit I found your rants both credible and entertaining.

  That gave her a warm feeling.

  But, he went on, if you were to call me, the vampires would hear your conversation both down there and through my phone up here, alerting them to my presence.

  Oh. Your ears really are sensitive, aren’t they?

  Yes, as are vampires’.

  Bummer. I was going to talk dirty to you.

  Damn. I hate to miss that.

  Maybe later. I could talk dirty to you mentally, she suggested boldly.

  Very tempting, but it looks like you have some nibblers.

  Vampires are taking the bait? she asked, staggering a bit to one side. Already?

  Definitely. Two approach from your five and three more from your eight.

  Ooh. I like this. No more guessing how many I’ll face or trying to sneak a peek at them.

  How did you live through six years of this?

  I’m good at what I do.

  Just don’t get cocky.

  I won’t. Any sign of mercenaries?

  Silence. No. Nothing with my eyes. Nothing with the infrared. What about you? Any human auras lurking in odd places?

  She paused at a crosswalk and looked around as though trying to remember where she wanted to go. The vampires scattered like cockroaches, their auras leading the way.

  No. No humans.

  Good.

  Half singing under her breath, she led the vamps away from the frat houses, past eating establishments that would have been packed with students only a couple of hours earlier, and toward the science buildings that would give them a little more privacy and be less likely to draw the attention of anyone out and about this late.

  Adrenaline surged through her veins as she ducked into a darkened area she suspected was used for deliveries and paused. It was the closest thing to an alley nearby and would have to do. Reaching beneath her coat, she drew her borrowed shoto swords and spun around. “Hi, guys.”

  Those vamps who had already bent forward in a menacing crouch, intending to taunt and frighten her, frowned. Straightening, they looked at each other, then her.

  She grinned. “I believe this is where I’m supposed to say: It’s on.”

  Étienne appeared behind the vamps at the mouth of the pseudo-alley, swords drawn. “Actually,” he countered. “it’s not on. Did you forget we need to talk to them first?”

  The vamps spun to face Étienne, drawing weapons they had thought they wouldn’t need to slaughter a drunk sorority girl.

  Krysta swore. “Yes, I did. I see now why that grumpy older guy didn’t want to do this. It kinda ruins the flow of it all.”

  “What the hell?” one vamp asked, looking back and forth between them.

  “An Immortal Guardian,” one sneered, his eyes flashing a bright blue as they slid to Krysta. “And his mortal Second.”

  The others’ eyes flared to life in a variety of colors. Some actually hissed liked movie vampires did.

  Étienne raced right through their midst and planted himself in front of Krysta.

  Damn it! She shifted to the side, far enough away not to hamper his swing.

  “Kill them!” the first vampire snarled.

  Étienne raised one of his swords and pointed it at them almost like a teacher singling out a student for behaving badly. “Gentlemen, I suggest you slow your roll.” Over his shoulder, he murmured, “That’s a saying, isn’t it?”

  It was kind of hard to be miffed at him when he made her want to laugh. “Yes.” Was he trying to use modern slang to make himself seem younger to her after their little conversation?

  He focused once more on the vampires. “We have some information that might interest you.”

  They responded with a lot of posturing and spewing of epithets.

  “Human mercenaries are hunting you,” Étienne went on doggedly. “They want to capture you, torture you to learn about the virus and your abilities, then kill you.”

  “What kind of bullshit is that?” one blurted.

  “It’s bullshit is what it is,” another answered.

  So clever, that one.

  “Yeah, since when do immortals want to help vampires?”

  Étienne sighed. “Since any information the mercenaries gain from torturing you can be used against us. These humans are enemies of both of us. If we work together . . .”

  Weapons still at the ready, Krysta glanced at him when he trailed off.

  The vampires shifted and exchanged confused looks. At least those who weren’t twitching with the need to attack.

  “You know what?” Étienne said finally. “This is pointless. Every vampire here is so insane they’re making my head hurt.” He swung his swords with a flourish and met her gaze. “Now it’s on.”

  He blurred, shooting forward with incredible speed. Blood sprayed as carotid arteries sprang leaks in the wake of his blades. Two vampires swung their weapons wildly, then sank to their knees, hands grasping their throats and trying futilely to staunch the flow of their life’s blood. A third engaged Étienne, the battling duo blurring and zipping around like the Tazmanian Devil.

  The two remaining vamps faced Krysta with evil smiles. Their orange auras streaked toward her a second before their forms leapt forward. She swung her blades, scoring hits that sparked snarls of fury. And retaliation.

  She began a slow trek backward as she swung where their auras directed her. Her thigh stung as one of their blades cut through her clothing and hit flesh. Then her side. Her hip. Her swings and thrusts neither ceased nor sl
owed.

  Something large flew over her head and hit the brick wall to her right hard enough to shower them with dust. The vampire Étienne fought?

  One of her opponents slowed and stumbled, dropping the bowie he had swung wildly. Blood poured from his wrist and neck.

  About freaking time! It usually didn’t take her that long to find the arteries. She was off her game tonight.

  The other vampire jerked backward, then hit the wall beside the other one.

  Étienne was on him so fast she couldn’t see exactly what he did. But when he stilled and stepped back, the blades of his swords dripped crimson liquid and the vamp began to shrivel up.

  Breathing hard, Krysta lowered her weapons.

  Étienne turned to her, eyes glowing a vibrant amber. Ruby droplets speckled his face and glistened on his clothing. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded and smiled. “We rock!”

  Some of the tension left his shoulders. Shaking his head, he wiped his blades on his coat and sheathed them. “Where are you hurt?”

  “What makes you think I’m hurt?” She didn’t want to admit it. If he knew she was injured every time she hunted, he might refuse to hunt with her again in an attempt to protect her and . . .

  Well, she didn’t know what would happen next. She’d like to think she would just go back to hunting on her own, but doubted Étienne or the elder immortals would let her.

  That galled a little.

  Or a lot.

  “I can smell your blood,” he said, closing the distance between them. “And you’re favoring one side.”

  Thwarted again by his acute senses and attention to detail.

  Since she couldn’t refute it, she settled for making nonsensical grumbly noises as she wiped her own blades clean and sheathed them.

  “Krysta.”

  “It’s just a few cuts.”

  “Where?”

  “My left thigh, my left side, and my right hip.”

  His jaw clenched. Leaning down, he swept her into his arms. Though he was careful not to touch any of her wounds, it still hurt.

  “I can walk,” she insisted between teeth gritted against the pain.

  “You wouldn’t be able to keep up.”

  The world around her blurred. A strong breeze whipped through her hair, tugging it across her face.

  When everything came back into focus and her hair fell away, she discovered they stood on top of a building down the street.

  “Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said I couldn’t keep up. What—?”

  “I didn’t want to take any chances. The mercenaries always seem to show themselves after the fight is over, as though they want to make sure they nab the immortal victor instead of the vampires.”

  Alarm rose. “Did you see any closing in?”

  “No. Will you watch the battle scene for me while I inspect your wounds?” He gingerly lowered her to her feet. “Are you okay to stand?”

  “Yes and yes. I really don’t think the cuts are too deep. They just hurt. And stop looking like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’ve suffered a mortal injury or something and you want to go back and kill the vampires again.”

  “Here.” He handed her his infrared scope. “I would go back and kill the vampires again if I could. I don’t like you getting hurt. I don’t like you being in pain.”

  She raised the scope to her right eye and squeezed her left eye closed. The world appeared before her, normal black combined with weird shades of blue and purple and occasional splashes of yellow, orange, and red.

  Étienne peeled her coat back and bent to check the wound at her waist. “What do you see? Any humans?”

  “I see a guy driving past in a truck. A couple back near the frat—Jeeze! I think they’re having sex! Euw! In the bushes? Who does that?”

  Was that a laugh?

  She opened her left eye and checked.

  Yes, she had wrung a smile from him. Good.

  She grunted when he prodded the cut. “That hurts, you know.”

  “It needs stitches.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Just get me home. Sean will take care of it.”

  “Keep looking,” he instructed and turned his attention to her thigh. “Good. They missed the artery.”

  She squinted through the scope again. “Yeah. What is it with vampires and hamstrings?”

  “They’re like lions trying to bring down a gazelle. They think to hobble you, then move in for the kill.”

  “Bastards.”

  “Yes.”

  She turned in a complete circle, eliciting more French swear words from Étienne, who was still trying to examine her wounds. “I’m not seeing anything. I don’t think they came tonight.”

  He waited for her to settle, then checked out her hip. “This one needs stitches, too.”

  “Quit complaining.”

  He straightened and took the scope from her. “I’m not complaining. I’m expressing concern.”

  “Well, you’re harshing my mellow. We defeated five vampires tonight. That’s something to celebrate.”

  He raised the scope to his right eye and turned in a circle. “I think if they were here they would have come out of hiding by now.”

  “They certainly didn’t dawdle the last time we encountered them.”

  “Wait here a moment. If you see anything, think a warning and I’ll hear it.”

  “Where are you—?”

  He vanished. Or moved so swiftly he seemed to. But his aura helped her trace his movements as he returned to the area in which they had fought.

  Krysta raised the scope to her eye and looked around. No mercenaries.

  Ooh. His aura looked really freaky through the scope as it streaked back toward her.

  “Okay,” he said, stopping before her. “Let’s call it a night.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Confiscated the vampires’ weapons and tossed their clothing into the Dumpster.”

  “Oh.”

  “Let’s head for the car.”

  She halted him when he bent to lift her into his arms. “I can walk, Étienne. Really. The wounds aren’t that bad.”

  Brushing her hands aside, he lifted her into his arms anyway. “This is faster. And, if it will soothe your ego, you can tell yourself that I’m not doing this because I think your injuries have weakened you. I’m doing it because I was looking for an excuse to hold you.”

  “I can do that,” she said, looping her arms around his neck. “Which one is it?”

  “I’ll let you decide.”

  “So, we’re really going to do this?” she asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Hunt together?”

  “That’s the plan. At least for the time being.”

  Good. They made a great team. And the more time she spent with Étienne, the more time she wanted to spend with him.

  Krysta combed her fingers through his thick locks. “Your hair is so soft.”

  He smiled as the world blurred.

  Chapter 12

  David reclined in his comfy chair, his feet propped on the edge of his desk, as he devoured the latest Stephen King novel.

  Seth lounged in a chair on the other side of the desk, his large boots also gracing the scarred wooden surface as he studied his cell phone.

  Outside, the sun was high in the sky, its rays filtering in and brightening the room naturally.

  The house was quiet, save the occasional snore. Marcus and Ami were fast asleep. Bastien and Melanie were, too, having opted yet again to spend the day at David’s so Melanie could be near Ami.

  Roland and Sarah had surprised them all by choosing to spend the day there as well. Seth thought Roland was beginning to pick up on Marcus’s tension. Roland may be antisocial, but he was fiercely loyal. And Marcus had been a good friend to him over the centuries.

  Even Darnell slumbered.

  Seth and David should be getting some rest as well. So many needed their help on a nightly bas
is that both often went days without sleep. But, when one’s sense of hearing was as acute as theirs, quiet was hard to come by and could often only be found during times like this.

  “I think our secret is out,” Seth murmured.

  David grunted and kept reading. A moment later he turned the page. “Which one?”

  “I keep getting messages from immortals wanting to know why there are so many gifted ones in this area.”

  “Tell them it’s something in the water.”

  “I did. They didn’t buy it.”

  “Coincidence?”

  “They didn’t buy that either.”

  “Too smart for their own good.”

  “It doesn’t take a lot of smarts. Word gets around. First Roland found a gifted one, then Bastien and Richart. They all think Marcus has found one, too.”

  David nodded, his eyes still on his coveted book. “This love thing is becoming an epidemic.”

  “And everyone wants to be infected.”

  “Can you blame them?”

  Seth sighed. “No. Happily ever after, when you live as long as we do, sounds . . .”

  “Phenomenal.”

  “Yes.” He motioned to his phone. “You see? Another immortal requesting a transfer to North Carolina. They know something is up.”

  “How long do you think it will take them to connect the unusually high gifted one population to the presence of a network headquarters?”

  “I don’t know, but once they figure out we guide gifted ones to all areas that boast a network headquarters—”

  “There will be hell to pay.”

  Seth nodded. “They’ll think I’m playing matchmaker.”

  “And playing favorites.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Exactly. Everyone knows I’m your favorite and yet I remain distressingly unattached.”

  Seth grinned. “Angling for me to set you up on a blind date?”

  “Hell, no.”

  Laughing, Seth shook his head. “I don’t blame you. My record as a matchmaker sucks.”

  “Bethany had a long, happy life.”

  “And Marcus was miserable for centuries.”

  “Marcus wouldn’t have found Ami if you hadn’t inadvertently denied him Bethany.”

  “You’re giving me a headache.”

  David smiled.

  Seth swore. “I have to go. Friedrich needs me.”