Darkness Rises ig-4

by Dianne Duvall

  Delving into an outer pocket, Bastien returned to Melanie and held out several small packages.

  Melanie took one and turned it over. “No way! Organic chocolate turtles?”

  He nodded and smiled.

  Whooping with excitement, she jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist for a tight hug.

  Bastien laughed and hugged her back.

  As soon as she dropped her feet to the floor, she tore into the first package and popped the whole candy into her mouth. Her eyes closed in ecstasy. “Oh man,” she said around a mouthful of chocolate. “This is so good.”

  Sean raised his eyebrows.

  Meeting his gaze, she covered her mouth and laughed.

  Bastien shook his head with a smile and crossed his arms over his chest.

  She chewed and swallowed. “I haven’t been immortal that long and had to give up all of my favorite foods, so I’ve been craving them like crazy.”

  “Why did you have to give up all of your favorite foods?”

  “Because none of them were organic. Our stupid sense of taste is just as heightened as our vision and our sense of smell. And, trust me when I say, foods that contain artificial flavoring and other synthetic chemicals do not taste the same as the real deal. As Bastien once warned me, vanilla and synthetic vanillin taste as different to us as turkey and tofurky do to you.” She stuffed another chocolate turtle in her mouth and endeavored to speak around it. “Bastien’s been looking for organic alternatives to some of my favorites and I love turtles.”

  Laughing, Bastien cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “You are too adorable.” He kissed her again, longer and deeper. “You taste good, too.”

  Her cheeks flushed as he released her.

  Bastien nodded at Sean. “Have fun.” He pointed to the vampires. “You two . . . behave. And leave Melanie’s candy alone. She can kick your ass without a thought now.”

  Cliff and Stuart clicked their heels together and saluted.

  Shaking his head, Bastien left.

  Melanie wadded up the empty packages and tossed them into a wastebasket on the other side of the room.

  “Nice,” Sean praised with a smile.

  “Thanks. I imagine you have some questions.”

  “About a hundred of them.”

  Smiling, she motioned to a couple of chairs over by a desk. “What would you like to know first?”

  He waited for her to sit, then seated himself beside her. “Well, I’ve always wanted to know why I can heal with my hands.”

  She dropped the rest of the candy packages on the desk and leaned forward, her face lighting with interest. “You can heal with your hands?”

  He nodded.

  “That’s wonderful. Two gifted ones who are descendants of a powerful healer just came to our attention recently, but neither can heal with their hands.”

  Cliff dragged a chair over to join them. “So, you can just lay hands on a wound and heal it?” He sat down. “That’s so cool. I wish I could do that.”

  Stuart nodded as he pulled up another chair. “Me, too.” Seating himself, he surreptitiously reached toward the candy on the desk.

  “Touch it and die,” Melanie warned without looking at him.

  He snatched his hand back.

  “Now,” she said. “You can heal with your hands because your DNA is very unique. Every human has forty-six DNA memo groups that provide the blueprint for his or her existence.”

  “Okay,” Sean said.

  “Gifted ones have seven thousand.”

  “Awesome!” Stuart said. “I don’t know what that means.”

  Sean wasn’t sure he did either. “Why?”

  She shook her head. “We aren’t sure.”

  Fascinated by the information he proceeded to acquire, Sean spent the next several hours alone in a room, conversing with a beautiful immortal and two curious, genial vampires with a fondness for practical jokes.

  It was the strangest night of his life.

  Étienne smiled faintly. He and Krysta sat on the edge of Davis Library’s roof at UNC Chapel Hill. It had taken some coaxing to get her to do it, and then to relax. Like many humans, she had a fear of heights.

  It isn’t so much a fear of heights, she had said, as a fear of plunging to my death.

  I won’t let you fall, he had vowed.

  It meant a great deal to him that she had believed him, sitting down, then shakily scooting to the edge and dangling her legs over the side.

  Tranquility embraced them, broken by a dog bark here, a cat yowl there, or the occasional vehicle passing on the street.

  They had been hunting and training together for almost two weeks now while Sean studied with Dr. Lipton. Étienne had not enjoyed anything so much in decades.

  Moments like this were his favorites.

  Her shoulder pressed against his arm. Her scent enveloped him, mingling with the chicken sandwiches Cam had made them. Her mere presence provided a balm he hadn’t realized he had needed. Calming. Comforting. Dispelling the emptiness inside him.

  “I love hunting with you,” she said, reaching for the bottle of tea on her other side.

  His pulse leapt.

  “I haven’t eaten this much or this well since I lived with my parents,” she continued with a wry smile.

  He laughed. For a moment, he had thought—

  Her eyes widened as alarm rippled across her moonlit features. “Oh, crap. My parents!”

  “What about them?”

  “What if the mercenaries go after them to get to me. Or to get to you through me?”

  He waved a hand. “Chris took care of that when you and Sean moved in with me. Your parents are heavily guarded at all times.”

  “Really?” Frowning, she took another bite and chewed it thoughtfully. “I’m surprised they haven’t called. What did they say about it? I haven’t talked to them in almost three weeks. Mom has a knack for sensing when something is wrong and I didn’t know what to say to her when she asked what was up.”

  “They don’t know about the network guards. Chris’s men are in stealth mode.”

  She took another bite.

  He liked that she had a strong appetite. He didn’t know why he enjoyed watching her eat so much, but he did. Perhaps because he knew she and Sean had had some lean times.

  “No one has approached my parents? No mercenaries? No suspicious characters?”

  “No one.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “We don’t know. None of us have encountered any mercenaries since they hit your house. We don’t know if that means they’re regrouping, or have given up, or what. We don’t know who these mercenaries are, how large their PMC is, who leads them . . .”

  “What’s a PMC?”

  “Private Military Company.”

  “Oh.”

  “If they’re a small group, perhaps we did enough damage to make them rethink things. If they aren’t, they’re probably plotting something.”

  “Hmm.”

  More quiet, comfortable, soothing.

  “This sandwich is really good.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “There are definite perks to hunting with you.”

  And there were perks to hunting with her. Like spending hours and hours together every night. Getting to brush up against her and steal kisses and—

  Think about something else. Something guaranteed to keep you from getting turned on. “Your parents,” he blurted.

  Raising her eyebrows, she finished the last bite and tucked the empty tea bottle into their dinner bag. “What about them?”

  “Which one of them is a gifted one?”

  “Both.”

  “Really?” That was pretty rare in this century. “That must be why your gifts and your brother’s are stronger than that of other gifted ones in your generation.”

  She nodded. “My mom can feel other people’s emotions and my dad can sometimes see the future.
”

  “Bastien can feel other people’s emotions.”

  “The immortal everyone hates?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sean likes him.”

  Étienne sighed. “Bastien has his moments.”

  Several minutes passed.

  Krysta looked at her watch. “We still have a few hours of hunting left and nothing much is happening. You want to make out a little?”

  He laughed in surprised delight. “You’re a saucy wench, aren’t you?”

  “Hey, when I want something, I go for it.”

  His body hardened. “And you want me?”

  “Yes.” She studied him intently. “Your eyes are glowing.”

  “I want you, too.”

  A breeze ruffled her hair, bringing with it the scent of blood.

  He swore. “But, yet again, it looks like it’s time to go to work.”

  “What is it?”

  “Vampires, heading this way from the north.”

  He stood, brushed the crumbs from his lap, then held his hand out to her.

  She curled her small fingers around his and stood, hastily moving away from the roof’s edge. “Thank you.”

  He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss.

  She smiled. “You are so hot.”

  “Don’t distract me, minx.”

  She laughed. “Are we going to do this your way or my way?”

  They had alternated between using Krysta as bait and hunting Étienne-style, which pretty much just entailed patrolling this campus or that and pouncing on any vampires they found.

  Both got the job done. Unfortunately, neither reduced the danger to Krysta. No matter how many vamps they fought or how the battles began, she ended up wounded and in need of her brother’s healing hands. Both siblings seemed pleased, insisting she suffered far fewer wounds when she fought with Étienne. But it frustrated him that he couldn’t prevent the injuries entirely.

  Étienne breathed deeply, collecting and sorting through the scents riding the wind. Tilting his head slightly, he caught snippets of conversation.

  “There could be as many as a dozen. Three are fresh from a kill and boasting of it to the others.” He shook his head. “They relished every scream they elicited from their victim. Those three are beyond help. The others aren’t as vocal, so we’ll have to see if any are salvable enough to be swayed to our side.”

  She grimaced. “It seems so useless, asking them to join us. Not one we’ve encountered so far has responded with anything other than disbelief and psychotic rage.”

  “I know. But Seth and David want us to keep trying.”

  “It still feels weird to take orders from someone else.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” he said. They all had. And it helped that the ones giving the orders were exceedingly wise and fair.

  He refocused on the smells and sounds of the vampire troupe. “With numbers that large, herding them into an alley might be tricky, restricting our movements.”

  “True.”

  “Let’s do this my way and just confront them head-on.”

  “Will that give you enough time to read their minds and gauge their levels of madness?”

  “Not as much as using you as bait would. But I want you by my side when the battle begins so I can watch your back.”

  “Just don’t endanger yourself by trying to keep an eye on me constantly, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  He refused to make that promise. Think your thoughts to me from this point on. They’re getting close enough to hear us.

  Okay. And don’t think I didn’t notice that you failed to agree.

  I said you could hunt with me. I didn’t say you could tell me what to do or that I wouldn’t watch over you in battle. He scooped her up into his arms.

  Stubborn.

  And you aren’t?

  She looped her arms around his neck.

  Ready?

  She nodded. As I’ll ever be.

  Bending his head, he touched his lips to hers. Hold on tight. Étienne stepped off the roof.

  Her silky hair whipped his face as they dropped eight stories. He landed smoothly on the balls of his feet, the impact pulling her lips from his.

  That is so cool.

  Smiling, he lowered her feet to the grass. Fun, too. I admit, when I was younger, I went through a phase in which I repeatedly tested the limits of my abilities by jumping off higher and higher buildings.

  She stepped back. What happened?

  I found out it isn’t fun to reach one’s limits. He had broken a lot of bones that night. And that doing stupid shit pisses Seth off.

  She smiled.

  Silently, they wound their way up sidewalks and between buildings. Étienne used his senses to estimate the vampires’ route, then decided to confront them where Bastien had once ended a bloody rampage: in the narrow parking alley—empty this time of night—between Peabody and Sitterson Hall.

  Here they come, he warned.

  Chapter 13

  Krysta stood beside Étienne, nerves jumping. Anything more from their thoughts?

  I think some of the group are fairly recently transformed. They’re uncomfortable with the bloody trio’s boasts.

  You mean we might actually recruit some vampires tonight? Unbelievable. Only you could make me recruit instead of kill.

  Actually only Seth could.

  I’m not a Second, so I’m not officially part of the group yet. I’m doing this for you.

  You’re determined to distract me, aren’t you?

  Yes.

  His lips twitched. Why?

  Because I had an intriguingly racy dream about you this morning and have been distracted picturing you naked and imagining your hands on me ever since.

  His eyes flashed amber.

  Her pulse picked up. Were you there? As you, I mean? You said you could do that.

  Unfortunately, no.

  Disappointing. She had been sleeping in Lisette’s room each night, but that dream had almost driven her to cross the hall. Well, I only thought it fair that you share a little of the pain.

  He lowered his gaze to her lips. So you were serious when you suggested we make out on the roof?

  Pretty much.

  You do realize I’m now going to have to fight the vampires with a raging erection, right?

  Her gaze dropped to his groin. Wow. He wasn’t kidding.

  No, I wasn’t.

  Oops. She must have been broadcasting again. I thought you guys had tremendous control over your bodies. Can’t you just . . . think it away? What a waste. Damned vampires.

  Lips twitching, he closed his eyes. I’ll try.

  Since his eyes were closed, she didn’t bother to avert her own. That was quite a bulge. Even more impressive than the one he had sported in her dream as he had torn off her shirt and tongued her breasts.

  Damn it! Close your mind to me!

  Oh. Sorry. What was the opposite of sexy and seductive? What was so not sexy that, if she pictured it, it would be the equivalent of a bucket of ice water dousing him?

  Hmm. Sean’s nasty-ass meat loaf might do it.

  Or the girl from The Exorcist projectile vomiting.

  A skinny, saggy, one-hundred-year-old man dancing around naked.

  He grimaced. Where the hell did you see a one-hundred-year-old man naked?

  In a movie I really wish I hadn’t watched.

  Well, thank you. I guess. It worked.

  She grinned.

  What the hell was the brown and green lump you showed me first?

  Sean’s meat loaf.

  He shuddered. Okay, sober up. They’re about to come around the corner.

  She could hear the vampires herself now. They weren’t exactly trying to keep their movements or boasts unobtrusive. As Étienne had said, three of the vamps seemed to be doing most of the talking.

  The group strutted into view.

  Krysta did a quick head count and came up with eleven.

  They halted at the s
ight of her and Étienne.

  “Gentlemen,” Étienne greeted them.

  “Well, well, well,” one vampire said, his glowing blue eyes fastening on Krysta. Blood soaked his shirt and pants down to the knees.

  What the hell had he done to his victim?

  Another stepped up beside him, a sleazy smile shaping his thin lips. “Looks like tonight’s fun isn’t over.”

  Étienne snapped his fingers. “Over here, gentlemen.”

  They frowned at him.

  “Apparently it has escaped your notice that I’m an Immortal Guardian.”

  The eyes of all the vampires lit like lamps, glowing in varying shades of blue and green and amber. Almost as one, they drew weapons. Mostly bowie knives and machetes.

  Krysta drew her shoto swords.

  Étienne’s weapons remained sheathed. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “I have a proposition for you, too,” one of the other vamps sneered. “I propose we kick your ass.”

  “Yeah,” another said. “An Immortal Guardian killed Mac and Keith.”

  “And Eddie.”

  Étienne shrugged. “I suppose it could have been me, but that’s neither here nor there.”

  “Fu—”

  “A new enemy has arisen. One that poses a threat to both vampires and immortals.”

  “Horseshit!”

  “Humans are hunting us,” Étienne continued, unperturbed by the swears and slurs and shifting movements of the vamps. “More specifically, mercenaries are hunting us. They want to catch one of us, dissect us, and use the virus for economic gain.”

  “Then I say we hand you over to them,” the first vampire jeered.

  “That would be monumentally stupid.”

  “You’re stupid!” a vamp in the back shouted.

  “Great comeback,” Krysta muttered.

  They turned their attention to her.

  “Ah-ah-ah,” Étienne reprimanded. “Over here.”

  They looked to him once more.

  “As I was saying, turning me over to the mercenaries would be monumentally stupid. Whatever they learn about the virus and our physiology from dissecting me could be used against you. And vice versa. Which, by the way, is the only reason any of you are still standing.”