Phantom Shadows Part 18

Adopting an American accent, Bastien whispered with false urgency, "I see 'em. I see 'em. They're moving toward Kenan Stadium. Holy s.h.i.+t they're fast!"

A flurry of movement sounded as soldiers readjusted their positions in an attempt to glimpse the supposedly fleeing beings.

"Maintain position! Maintain position!" came the order in a rough whisper yell. "Who the h.e.l.l was that? Was that Charlie?"

Bastien dropped the walkie-talkie.

"No, sir. It wasn't me."

"Well, whoever it was, shut the f.u.c.k up! And for f.u.c.k's sake everyone stop moving! They'll hear us!"

Too late.

Bastien backed toward the center of the roof, then raced for the edge. Over he went, flying through the air he didn't know how many yards to land on the next.

He couldn't land silently when traveling at such velocities, but it didn't matter. He was on the soldiers crouched there before they could finish spinning around. Snapping their necks, he leapt to the roof of the next building. Two more swore and swung around. One fired a tranquilizer dart at him. Bastien caught it and flung it back at the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, who dropped like a stone. The other released a shout cut short when Bastien snapped his neck. Still moving, Bastien increased his speed and leapt to the next roof. Two more down. Then the next. Three on that one.

On the next, he skidded to a halt. The barrel of one of the men's rifles was still warm. The acrid scent of gunshot residue lingered on the man's hands.

In that instant, Bastien understood more fully than he ever had the psychotic episodes that gripped vampires, the fury that engulfed them and took control of their bodies in a millisecond.

This was the one who had shot Melanie.

Bastien snapped the other soldier's neck without any conscious thought. All of his attention focused on Melanie's shooter.

This man had caused her pain. So he would feel pain.

Bastien knocked the man's weapon aside with one hand and clamped the other around his throat, lifting him until his feet dangled two feet off the ground.

Within the soldier's wide, fear-filled eyes, Bastien could see the reflection of his own, burning bright amber. He bared his fangs in a snarl.

The soldier whimpered and wet his pants.

Ripping the walkie-talkie from the man's shoulder, Bastien threw it halfway to the d.a.m.ned football stadium.

"You shot my woman," he growled.

If the man's eyes could get any wider, they did. His fingers clawed at Bastien's hand as he struggled for breath.

"You're going to die slowly."

One of the man's hands dropped.

Something sharp pierced Bastien's chest. He looked down. The dumb f.u.c.k had stabbed him with a tactical knife.

He met the soldier's gaze and noted the gleam of triumph in them. "You don't actually think that hurts me, do you?" he drawled.

The soldier's fear returned, so strong Bastien could smell it.

Curling the fingers of his free hand around the soldier's, Bastien slowly withdrew the knife without so much as a wince, confiscated it, and held it up. "You're going to regret that."

Chapter 7.

Ami was parked at her computer in David's study when a commotion arose in the living room.

Other than her, the ground floor should have been empty. Darnell was downstairs training half a dozen Seconds. etienne was down in one of the bas.e.m.e.nt's guest rooms, showering off the blood that had coated him when he had come up against five vampires, none of whom had apparently been interested in making friends.

The immortal had not been pleased.

Ami feared such confrontations, drawn out and made more dangerous by Bastien's plan to seek an alliance, would not endear him to the immortals. His brethren already pretty much hated him. Some outright resented the fact that he still drew breath when Ewen didn't.

But Ami knew him better than they did. Yes, he had made some mistakes. Some pretty big mistakes, but his intentions had been good.

The road to h.e.l.l is paved with good intentions.

Marcus had spouted that the other night when she had tried to defend Bastien.

She knew it rankled her husband that she cared for Bastien. But Bastien had been kind to her. He had been a kindred spirit in the early days of their acquaintance, housed not entirely of his own free will at Seth's castle, facing a new life, surrounded by new people, with nothing but an unknown future and a messed up past for company.

During those first few weeks, while she had recovered from the torture she had endured at Emrys's hands, she had formed a bond with Bastien that was as unbreakable as those she had formed with Seth, David, and Darnell.

Heavy boots tromped down the hallway.

She rose from the lovely desk David had purchased for her.

"Where's David?"

Richart stepped into the doorway, Dr. Lipton's unconscious form cradled in his arms. Melanie's head drooped over his arm, her hair falling in a mahogany curtain to his waist. The front of her s.h.i.+rt bore three holes and was completely saturated with blood, some of which trailed over his hand and dripped onto the floor. One slender arm swung limply as he ceased moving.

"He isn't here." Ami hurried forward. "Chechenko nearly lost his leg tonight, so David had to go to Virginia to heal him."

"What about Seth?"

She took out her cell phone and dialed.

The sounds of battle came over the line. Metal clas.h.i.+ng. Men howling in pain.

"What's up, sweetheart?" Seth asked.

"Dr. Lipton has been injured."

"I'm afraid I have my hands full here. You'll have to-" He grunted, swore, then continued. "You'll have to call Roland or take her to the network."

"Okay."

"Keep me posted though."

"I will."

She ended the call. "You'll have to take her to Roland."

Richart swore. "I don't know where the paranoid b.a.s.t.a.r.d lives!"

Ami leaned out into the hallway. "Darnell!"

Boots pounded up the stairs from the bas.e.m.e.nt.

Darnell burst into the hallway, the six trainees fast on his heels. "What's wrong?" His eyes widened when he caught sight of Dr. Lipton. "Oh, s.h.i.+t. How bad?"

"Fatal," Richart said.

The Seconds all stared somberly.

"David and Seth have their hands full," Ami told him. "Do you know where Roland lives?"

"No." He reached into a back pocket and drew out his cell phone. "He'll have to come here."

Richart shook his head. "Have him meet us at the network. She won't live long enough for him to get here. Hopefully, the doctors there will be able to keep her alive until he arrives."

He vanished in the next instant.

Ami heard some of the trainees gasp. "You call Roland. I'll call Chris."

Bastien pitched the last soldier off the roof. The man's vocal chords had been crushed, so he couldn't alert any campus stragglers with screams as he plunged to his death.

The snipers were all dead. Now it was time to tackle the soldiers on the ground.

Withdrawing his cell, he dialed Chris.

"Reordon!" the human barked impatiently.

"I need a cleanup crew," he said and leapt to the dense green lawn below.

"Bastien? What the f.u.c.k is going on? Richart just showed up here with Dr. Lipton."

"Why the h.e.l.l is he there? Why isn't David healing her?"

"He can't. Seth can't either. They're both busy elsewhere. The medical team is working on her and Roland is on his way. Now tell me-"

"Ask Bastien where I should meet him," Richart said in the background.

Knowing now that there was a strong chance Melanie would not make it, Bastien felt an icy calm settle over him. "Tell him to teleport to Peabody Hall. I'm at Fetzer Hall now and am about to sweep through the soldiers between us like a f.u.c.king tidal wave."

"d.a.m.n it, we need some of those men left alive to-"

"All you're getting are corpses. When you send the cleanup crew, send a f.u.c.king bus."

Disconnecting the call, Bastien sped through the darkness toward the first cl.u.s.ter of soldiers.

Chaos infected the remaining soldiers' ranks as one after another after another ceased communicating over the walkie-talkies. Panicked, unable to spot their attacker even with night vision goggles, they ignored their commander's orders to maintain radio silence and begged for help, alerting Bastien to all of their positions.

He took out three of a cl.u.s.ter of six in two seconds. The others tried to fire their weapons and retreat at the same time. Shots m.u.f.fled by top-of-the-line suppressors filled the night, unheard by anyone but Bastien and Richart if he had appeared as instructed.

Bastien didn't flinch as bullets struck him. Drawing his katanas, he cut the throats of two men, then disarmed the last. Dropping a sword, Bastien yanked the last man forward, sank his fangs into the p.r.i.c.k's neck, and drained him.

Dropping the body, Bastien retrieved his sword and raced for the next cl.u.s.ter. Already his wounds were healing. But he would have continued even if they hadn't.

These b.a.s.t.a.r.ds had killed Melanie. By the time this night was over, not one of them would ever draw breath again.

Richart delayed returning to UNC. Roland's home was half an hour away from the network by car. The Frenchman had seen the doubt on the network doctors' faces when asked if they could sustain Dr. Lipton for that long. Their best hope, therefore, was for Roland to meet Richart at some halfway point with which Richart was familiar.

Richart paced the agreed upon parking lot impatiently.

The tires of Roland's black Fisker Karma squealed as he turned into the lot without slowing and slammed on the brakes.

Both front doors flew open. Roland and Sarah hopped out.

"We must hurry," Richart urged, crossing the brief distance between them and clasping Roland's shoulder. "I can't take you both."

Sarah nodded. "I know. Go ahead. I'll meet you at the network. Be safe, sweetie."

"Always," Roland said.

Then Richart teleported him directly to the network's OR.

Judging by the frantic activity taking place there, Dr. Lipton had not yet expired. Richart would take that news with him to UNC and hope it would appease Bastien's wrath.

But first, he had a stop to make.

etienne d'Alencon knew his brother as well as he knew himself.

The twins were like those sometimes mentioned on the news with a strange combination of awe and skepticism. If Richart's arm was broken, etienne felt an ache in his own. If etienne's leg was shattered, Richart felt the agonizing pain in his own.

Not the most convenient connection to have, considering the two brothers hunted and fought vampires for a living and were injured d.a.m.ned near every night. But they were used to it.

While Richart didn't possess the telepathy etienne and their sister Lisette did, etienne could often sense when his brother was troubled without reading his thoughts because of the close connection they shared.

Which is what had happened a few minutes ago when Richart had teleported to David's home.

Hands braced on the shower wall, warm water sluicing down over his hair and rinsing the blood from his battered body, etienne had felt his brother's presence and raised his head.

Thanks to his acute hearing, the voices of Richart, Ami, and Darnell had reached him easily. Dr. Lipton had been fatally wounded by the sounds of it.