Darkness Dawns

Chapter 16

Roland fastened the Velcro tabs on his bulletproof vest, then donned a shoulder holster that housed a Sig P226 9mm. The many pockets of his black cargo pants he filled with extra clips and numerous throwing stars. His favored sais were slid into sheaths attached to each thigh.

Pulling a leather strap over his head, he settled it on one shoulder so it draped across his chest like an ammunition belt, then filled the small slits in it with a dozen throwing knives.

His thoughts were chaotic. The cold deliberation that usually overtook him before a fight had completely deserted him.

Bending, he slipped more knives into his boots.

He could feel Sarah watching him and knew without looking up that she was sitting on the foot of the bed, worrying her lower lip as she had been the entire time he had been gearing up.

Once he had packed on as many weapons as he could without hampering his mobility, he straightened and glanced over at her. “Come here, love.”

Rising, she moved to stand before him.

Roland picked up the smaller Kevlar vest he had found and began strapping her into it. A shoulder holster with a Glock 9mm followed.

“Have you changed your mind?” she asked hopefully. “Am I coming with you?”

“Hell, no.” He didn’t want her anywhere near that place.

“You’ve been training me all week, Roland. And I’m an excellent shot.”

“We’ve already discussed this.” Several times.

She rolled her eyes, looking vaguely disgruntled. “We didn’t discuss it. I suggested I may be of some help to you and you gave me the finger.”

“I did not give you the finger.”

“You may as well have. You shot me down so quickly I didn’t even have a chance to list all the pros.”

He started filling her pockets, back and front, with extra clips and throwing knives. “I don’t care if you have a hundred pros. They won’t outweigh the con.”

“Which is …?”

“You getting killed,” he snapped, patience fraying. “Damn it, Sarah, you are not going with us, so would you just drop it?”

He saw her frown as he adjusted her holster and told himself to get a fucking grip. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he shouting at her? She was just trying to help.

“If I’m not going with you,” she broached softly, “then why are you arming me to the teeth?”

“I want to make certain you’re as safe as possible while I’m gone.” He knew the fight was going to go down at Bastien’s lair but still felt riddled with anxiety at the thought of leaving her.

She was so small.

So fragile.

So very mortal.

“Chris’s men arrived an hour ago,” she pointed out, “and are positioned every two yards around the exterior of the house. A dozen more are patrolling the grounds and there are three stationed at the gate.”

He scowled. “I don’t know or trust any of those men.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, Chris should arrive at any minute and is going to stay inside and guard me himself until you return. You trust Chris, don’t you?”

“Not entirely.” He examined her black-clad form judiciously. She needed more pockets.

When he reached out to adjust her shoulder holster a third time, she captured his hands in her own and held them still.

“Roland, look at me,” she commanded quietly.

He met her hazel gaze.

“What is it?” she asked, studying him carefully. “You aren’t usually this antagonistic or abrupt. At least, not with me. So … talk to me. Is it Bastien? Are you worried something might go wrong tonight?”

“No, it isn’t that.” He gripped her hands tightly, memorizing every cherished feature. “It’s just … different this time. And I’m not handling it very well. I’m sorry.”

Her expression lightened a bit. “That’s okay. How is it different?”

He forced a smile, though he knew it was a lame attempt. “I’ve never had anything to lose before. I think it’s making me nervous.”

Her mouth formed a silent O. Then she threw her arms around him and held him tight.

“Careful,” he enjoined, gingerly hugging her back. He had a lot of blades with razor-sharp edges lashed to him.

She shook her head and whispered in a choked voice, “I love you.”

He rested his cheek on her hair, inhaling her alluring scent. “I love you, too.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me.”

But so much already had. “I can’t help worrying. He always seems to find us.”

“Not this time. You’re striking during daylight hours. He’ll be in Seth’s custody and you’ll be back here by sunset.”

He nodded, though he lacked her confidence. Bastien was a wily adversary who had proven to be tremendously unpredictable.

“You can’t let anything happen to you either, Roland. Come back to me safely.”

“I will.” Leaning back, he lowered his lips to hers for a gentle kiss. “If Bastien’s human minions show up—hell, at any sign of trouble—head for the tunnels.”

Chris had finally disclosed the locations of the secret escape routes he had mentioned over the phone. Inside the ar-moire every subterranean bedroom possessed was a false back that concealed the entrance of a tunnel that led deep into the surrounding forest. Each tunnel had its own hidden exit that allowed those who followed it to surface in complete shade (even in winter) a safe enough distance from the house that they would be neither seen nor heard by anyone besieging it.

After examining them all, Roland had decided he would add the same to his next home whenever he built or bought it. Had he had such in his last home, he, Marcus, and Sarah could have escaped the fire without venturing into the sun and Sarah would have never been exposed to the minions’ gunfire. He had grown too complacent in recent years.

“Thank you for making sure they’re free of creepy crawlies,” Sarah said, drawing a smile from him.

“Anything for you.” He knew her fear of bugs embarrassed her, but he sure as hell didn’t think less of her because of it. She was willing to go up against insane vampires and men with guns. Who gave a rat’s ass about a little insect phobia?

At that moment, the doorbell pealed. A courtesy, since all the immortals in the area had keys and knew the alarm codes. A second later they heard the front door open.

Sarah sighed. “That must be Chris.”

He nodded. “Marcus, Lisette, and Étienne are with him. Time to go.”

Linking his fingers through hers, Roland drew her with him down the hallway, up the stairs, and into the living room. Once there, they both stopped and stared.

Chris was decked out in black fatigues and a Kevlar vest, an automatic weapon under his right arm, a .45 semiautomatic holstered on his right thigh. Fastened to his left thigh was a wicked-looking tactical knife.

Marcus was dressed and armed much as Roland was.

Lisette and Étienne, however, were both clad in what appeared to be dull black rubber pants and long-sleeved shirts that fit them like a second skin. The pants were tucked into heavy boots. The neckline of the shirts rose all the way to their chins. Their hands, concealed by gloves made of the same peculiar material, clutched matching masks and wraparound sunglasses.

Two red shoto swords were strapped to Lisette’s back and a pair of Glock 18s equipped with extended thirty-one-round magazines were strapped to the outside of each slender thigh. Étienne had armed himself with a couple of sheathed short swords and numerous throwing knives that hung in a belt across his chest like Roland’s.

When Roland and Sarah continued to stare at their odd suits, Étienne spread his arms wide and raised his eyebrows. “They offer us complete protection from the sun.”

Interesting. Roland hadn’t heard anything about this, even on the Internet message boards. “I wondered how you two would manage to survive the daylight.” The younger the immortals, the more sensitive they were to sunlight. And these two were only a couple hundred years old. “Are they comfortable?”

“Not really,” Lisette answered. Her long black tresses were slicked back into a neat braid that disappeared into the neckline of her shirt.

Étienne grimaced. “They chafe like a mother when you sweat.”

Marcus grinned. “Which is why I’m not wearing them.”

Chris motioned to Roland’s clothes. “Don’t worry. You’re protected, too. All the clothing David provides offers 98 percent protection against UVA and UVB rays. As old as you are, that should be enough. I did bring a couple of extra masks, sunglasses, and gloves, though, in case you were interested.”

Roland and Marcus each took a mask, a pair of gloves, and sunglasses. Slipping his hand inside the rubbery ski mask, Roland held it up for Sarah to see.

She reached out and felt it, wrinkling her nose at the automobile-tire texture, then shrugged. “As long as it protects your pretty face, I’m all for it.”

Grinning, he turned back to the others.

They were all staring at him with wide eyes.

He scowled. “What?”

They blinked.

“Nothing,” Chris mumbled. Pulling an iPhone from one of his pockets, he handed it to Marcus. “Since you’re a little more computer and electronics savvy than the others, you get to hang on to this. One of my contacts is going to download another real-time keyhole satellite surveillance photo at precisely five o’clock. It will confirm how many humans and vamps are inside and, since we don’t know the layout of that massive basement, will hopefully serve as a guide and help you navigate it and find them all. You’ll only get the one photo because he isn’t supposed to be doing this shit and is risking his ass to help us.”

Seth abruptly appeared behind Chris.

Sarah jumped and emitted a startled squeak, then sighed as she met Roland’s amused gaze. “I don’t think I’m going to get used to that anytime soon.”

He smiled. “It’s been nine centuries and I’m still not used to it.”

Chris stepped aside so Seth could join the circle. “I’ve already briefed them.”

“Excellent. Let’s book.”

Roland turned to Sarah as the others filed toward the door.

Her sweet face was pinched with worry as she rose onto her toes and wrapped her arms around him. “Be careful.”

He kissed her. “I will.” Then he kissed her again. “Remember, at the first sign of trouble—”

“Head for the tunnels. I will.”

He kissed her one more time, deeply, drinking in her taste and her scent, then reluctantly set her away from him.

Donning the rubbery mask, gloves, and sunglasses, he followed the others through the front door and out into the late afternoon sunlight.

Sarah’s stomach churned as she nervously paced the perimeters of the living room. Low music and voices changed midsentence as Chris channel-surfed from his position on one of the cushy sofas. Every once in a while, she would feel his gaze stray to her, observe her for several seconds, then return to the television.

All the curtains had been pulled back. Golden sunlight poured in through the western windows and spilled across the plush cream-colored carpet. Sparkling dust motes spun and danced as she passed through them.

Curled in an overstuffed chair in one corner, Nietzsche raised his head and peered sleepily at her as she neared him. Sarah paused to rub his fuzzy head and stroke his chin before continuing on.

It was impossible to remain still when worry was twisting her insides into knots.

“How long have they been gone?” she asked for the second time.

Chris checked his watch. “Seven and a half minutes.”

She groaned. “That’s all?” She would’ve sworn at least half an hour had passed. “How much longer until they get there, do you think?”

“Depending on traffic, about fifteen minutes.”

“Why didn’t Seth just pop them over there?”

“You mean teleport them?”

She nodded.

“He can only teleport to places he’s already been. Unless you’re talking to him on the phone. Then he can find you by following the cell signal or zoning in on your brain waves. I can never decide which and keep forgetting to ask.”

Sarah almost smiled. “How can you be so … relaxed about all of this?” He didn’t look at all concerned.

“One: I’ve been at this long enough to have seen them in action and know that they’re extremely good at what they do. And two: I’m not in love with any of them.”

Glancing through one of the northern windows as she passed, she saw the back of one of Chris’s heavily armed men. “Is it that obvious?”

“As obvious as his love for you is.”

Another window. Another guard.

“I’m going to have my blood tested to see if I can be transformed.” She wasn’t sure why she told him. Perhaps to test his reaction since, according to Roland, no gifted one had ever willingly been transformed.

Nietzsche rolled over onto his back and struck a cute pose as she approached again, offering his tummy up for a rub.

Sarah obediently stroked his soft fur, smiling faintly when he rumbled with purrs of satisfaction. Once he had gotten used to her being around, Nietzsche had begun to come to her for treats and caresses almost as often as he did to Roland.

When Chris failed to reply to her announcement, she glanced up and found him turned around on the sofa, watching her over its back, his expression inscrutable.

“You think there’s no chance, don’t you?” Giving the cat a last stroke, she recommenced circumnavigating the big room. “Roland does, too.”

“It isn’t impossible,” he said slowly, swiveling around as he followed her progress, “just improbable.”

And she had thought the day couldn’t get any grimmer.

“Roland told me gifted ones always have black hair and brown eyes, no matter their race. I have neither.”

“Actually, there’s a gifted one in DC who has brown hair.”

Stopping short, Sarah stared at him. “What?”

Chris nodded. “She came to my attention … about six years ago when her college roommate was murdered in their dorm room.”

“She’s a gifted one?You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. It caused quite a stir when the police ran her DNA. I had to call Seth in to wipe a hell of a lot of memories and to explain things to her.”

“And she had brown hair?” Her heart began to thud in her chest.

“Just a bit darker than yours.”

“Why doesn’t Roland know about this?” He would have told her if he did.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Roland avoids all of us like the plague and this didn’t make it onto the Immortal Guardian’s website. Not very many people know.”

Which would explain why Marcus hadn’t said anything either when he had realized Roland was falling for her.

“Does the woman have any special gifts?”

He nodded. “She has minor psychic abilities. Knows someone is going to call before the phone rings or that she’s going to receive a package before the postman arrives. That sort of thing. Not enough to enable her to pick the Lotto numbers, but enough for her to notice.”

And there came reality, crashing back down again.

She sighed. “My eyes aren’t brown and I have no gifts.”

His look turned sympathetic. “Hazel is close to brown. And maybe you simply have a gift that’s mild enough you haven’t noticed it yet.”

It was nice of him to try. “Thanks, Chris, but—” She broke off, her gaze drawn beyond him to the corner as Nietzsche suddenly flipped onto all fours and looked toward the hallway.

Sarah followed his gaze and saw nothing. The hallway was empty, the doorways leading to the library, bedrooms, and basement all open and equally bereft.

“What is it?” Chris asked, sitting up straighter.

“Nothing, I think.”

Nietzsche dropped into a crouch, belly practically touching the cushion, ears laid back, and hissed.

An icy tingle of fear swept down Sarah’s spine.

What the hell?

A blur of motion burst from the hallway and rocketed toward the sofa. Blood sprayed from Chris’s mouth and nose as his head slammed back. Then he fell sideways, unconscious, onto the cushions.

As the blurry form looming over him stilled, it solidified into a man and turned to face her.

Oh shit. Bastien.

A heavy weight struck her in the stomach as he tossed her over his shoulder.

She hadn’t even seen him move!

The room blurred. Her stomach lurched.

Sarah struggled to get her bearings as the light suddenly dimmed and cooler air buffeted her.

Were they down in one of the tunnels?

How had he known about the tunnels?

Heart racing, hands shaking, she reached under her shirt, withdrew the Glock he must not have noticed in his hurry, aimed at the dark blurs she assumed were his legs and fired twice.

The tunnel abruptly swam into focus as his momentum stalled and blood spurted from both of his hamstrings.

Bastien stumbled and went down.

Sarah went down with him. Her back hit the ground first and knocked the breath from her. Her head ricocheting off the hard-packed dirt, she slid several yards, then skidded to a halt. Dust rose up around her, choking her, making her cough. She groaned as her head began to throb.

Rolling to her side, Sarah fought to breathe and ignored the bright sparkles that danced through her vision. Sluggishly, she dragged herself to her feet and glanced around.

The tunnel they were in, like all the others, was dimly lit with low-wattage bulbs activated by motion sensors. She couldn’t see the exit, so this must be one of the longer tunnels.

Bastien rose up between her and the entrance, one hand clamped to the back of his right thigh.

Sarah looked around frantically for the Glock she had dropped upon impact. Spotting it a couple of feet in front of her to the right, she dove for it.

Bastien snatched it away before she was even halfway there.

As Sarah jumped back, he turned and hurled it all the way to the entrance. His eyes, when he turned to face her, glowed amber with rage.

“Apparently your immortal friends didn’t bother to tell you that shooting vampires doesn’t kill us.” His lips pulled back from sharp fangs, igniting fear within her. “It only pisses us off!”

She screamed when he raced toward her, expecting him to rip out her throat in retribution.

His shoulder hit her stomach and lifted. The tunnel blurred. Cool wind whipped her as she dangled upside down again. Blood rushed to her head, increasing the pounding in it.

The bullet wounds weren’t even slowing him.

Fear made Sarah’s pulse drum loudly in her ears. She couldn’t let him take her. He’d kill her if he did or—worse—use her to kill Roland.

Her breath coming in panicked gasps, she reached into one of the few pockets still accessible in this position and withdrew a throwing knife. Grasping the wooden handle tightly, she held her breath, drew her arm back, then thrust it down as hard as she could.

Bastien cried out and jerked to a halt.

Sarah kept going, flying forward for a long weightless moment until she slammed into a wall. She heard a loud crack as she hit hard dirt or stone. Pain spiked through her head. Landing in a heap on the floor, she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.

Dizziness assailed her. Nausea rose.

When she opened her eyes, they refused to focus.

Drawing her knees up under her, she braced a trembling hand against the wall and struggled to rise.

Bastien was an obscure blur a few yards away, though she thought he was standing still.

“You stabbed me in the ass?” he roared.

The pain in her head intensified. Tears spilled over her lashes and down her cheeks as she fought to remain upright.

Bastien stared in furious disbelief at the bloody knife he had just yanked out of his right butt cheek.

Was the woman insane? Didn’t she understand who and what she was dealing with?

Tossing it the way of the Glock, he sent her a look that, in the past, had been known to make grown men wet their pants.

It didn’t seem to faze her in the least, though she was crying, he noticed uncomfortably.

Hell, he’d rather have her fight him than cry. He never had been able to abide a woman’s tears.

“How many damned weapons are you carrying?” he demanded, hardening his heart. She was a pawn, nothing more. A temporary thorn in his side he would use to bring his enemy down.

Peering around blearily, she abruptly slid down the wall, landing hard on her ass. Her arms settled limply at her sides.

He frowned. “Sarah?”

She didn’t respond, just sat there, blinking hard as if something was wrong with her eyes.

When a small stream of crimson liquid emerged from one ear, a cold chill shivered down his spine.

Oh shit.

Bastien swiftly closed the distance between them and knelt before her.

“Sarah? Can you hear me?”

Slipping a hand around to the back of her head, he found it wet with blood.

They had been traveling at a good velocity when she had stabbed him. He hadn’t meant to lose his hold on her, but he had had a four-inch blade stuck in his ass.

Had she hit the wall hard enough to fracture her skull?

Damn it! She wasn’t supposed to have gotten hurt. She was supposed to have come along docilely, too terrified to fight, and lured Roland into a trap. Then, once the asshole was dead, Bastien would’ve released her and she would’ve gone on her merry mortal way.

“Sarah,” he repeated softly, trying to get her to focus on him. “Sarah?”

“What?” she whispered.

She was totally out of it. Through his touch, he could feel her pain and confusion. She wanted Roland. Probably wanted him to heal her, since Bastien’s research indicated Roland could heal with his hands. Not that he would.

Performing a quick search of her pockets, Bastien relieved her of the rest of her arsenal of weapons. His mind raced as he pulled a mask from his front pocket and jerked it on. Though it wasn’t as fancy as those the immortals had been wearing when they had left, it would protect him from the worst of the sun’s damage. And what it didn’t block, the route through dense forest he had carefully plotted would.

Slipping one arm around Sarah’s back and the other beneath her knees, he gently scooped her up into his arms.

“Roland?” she murmured plaintively.

“Easy, princess,” he soothed, positioning them beneath the exit. “You’ll see him soon.”

* * *

Roland peered over Marcus’s shoulder as they watched for the satellite image to appear on the small screen.

They had left Chris’s van a couple of miles away and, approaching stealthily on foot, had arrived in the forest that overlooked Bastien’s farmhouse five minutes ago.

Though the satellite image was due any minute, the wait was excruciating.

Roland continued to feel uneasy about leaving Sarah with only mortals to protect her.

Lisette offered him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure she’s fine, Roland.”

Was she reading his thoughts?

Étienne nodded, eyeing him as if he were an exhibit in a damned science fair.

Seth continued to stare through the brush at the vampires’ lair.

“Okay, here it comes,” Marcus said, drawing their attention.

As Roland and the others gathered around him, an image similar to what Chris had shown them at the meeting appeared on the small screen. Vampires showed up as violet blobs, the humans showed up yellow.

The red blob was notably absent.

Roland scowled. “Where the hell is Bastien?”

Frowning, Marcus touched the screen. “I don’t know. Hang on.” The image doubled, then tripled in size.

As Roland watched, dread rising inside him, Marcus searched the image quadrant by quadrant and confirmed Bastien’s absence.

“He isn’t there.” Marcus glanced at the others. “Do you think he heard us coming and bolted?”

Seth shook his head. “I would’ve heard him.”

Something like panic struck Roland, tightening around his heart like a fist. “He’s gone after Sarah.”

“We don’t know that,” Étienne cautioned just as Seth’s head snapped around.

“What is it?” Lisette asked.

Then they all heard it.

A black-clad figure shot from the forest on the far side of the house and entered the back door with preternatural speed. Though the man’s face was covered by a mask, Roland knew it was Bastien.

“Anyone get a look at what he was carrying?” Marcus asked.

A scent came to Roland on the breeze.

Fangs burst from his gums and all rational thought fled as rage engulfed him. “It’s Sarah.”

And she was bleeding.

Moments later, he was tearing the front door off the farmhouse and sprinting inside. Two humans jumping up from the sofa went ignored as he darted past them and flew down the stairs to the basement.

The large main room was empty and offered up four hallways from which he could choose.

Roland didn’t hesitate, charging through the only one on the right and plunging into darkness his eyes had no trouble piercing. Almost immediately, the hallway branched off into a number of others, forming an intricate maze that would have slowed Roland substantially if Bastien hadn’t been carrying Sarah.

Her scent lit his way like a candle, guiding him unerringly through an endless series of twists and turns.

“Awaken, vampires!” Bastien bellowed ahead of him. “The immortals have found us!”

Roland’s heart slammed against his ribs as he continued forward at top speed. The sounds of battle soon broke out behind him. Gunshots sounded above.

How badly was Sarah hurt? Was she dying? Was she afraid? Did she know he was coming? Would she ever forgive him?

How could he have left her like that? Why had he risked it?

Bastien was nothing to him. Sarah was everything.

He would kill Bastien for hurting her. For touching her. For even looking at her fucking cross-eyed!

What had he done to her? How badly had he hurt her? Was she suffering?

She couldn’t die. Roland wouldn’t let her. Couldn’t lose her.

Light bloomed ahead.

There. Up and to the left.

Head down, fangs gleaming, Roland charged forward.

Lisette groaned as she watched Roland cover the distance to the farmhouse’s front door in a blink, rip it off its hinges, and vanish inside. “So much for stealth.”

All but Seth hastily donned their masks.

“Awaken, vampires!” a voice bellowed from within. “The immortals have found us!”

“How many did you count?” Seth asked grimly.

“Fifty-seven vamps below,” Marcus said. “Four humans above.”

“If you can prevent Roland from killing Sebastien, do so.”

Seth raced for the farmhouse first, followed by Marcus, then Lisette and Étienne.

The French immortals burst inside just as the first two vanished through the door that led to the basement. Two human minions stood gaping in front of a threadbare sofa.

Lisette nodded to her brother. “Go on. I’ll see to the humans.”

He vanished in a blur.

As she turned to face the minions, they drew handguns and fired. Lisette ducked to the side, slipped behind them, and snapped both their necks. She had been born with the ability to read others’ thoughts and theirs had been seriously sadistic.

“I hope Bastien was oblivious to your true natures,” she murmured, “because, if he wasn’t, he isn’t worth saving.”

Another of their ilk came running from the kitchen, guns blazing. He died quickly, too.

As the sounds of battle rose from below, she sped down a hallway to the room that had contained the last yellow blob from the satellite image and kicked the door open.

The room was a combination home office and library. The sole occupant was roughly six feet tall, blond, and blue-eyed, with a handsome, youthful face and world-weary eyes.

Lisette guessed he was around thirty-five and, after rapidly scanning his thoughts, definitely worth salvaging.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, yanking earbuds blasting metal music out of his ears. When sounds of violence trickled in through the door, he drew a 9mm and pointed it at her. “What the hell is going on?”

Lisette pulled her mask off and drew in a deep breath.

Damned thing made her feel like she was suffocating.

Male appreciation wafted over her. Smiling with a flash of fang, she tucked the mask in her belt. “You might as well put that away,” she advised, nodding at the gun.

His eyes widened and his mouth came dangerously close to falling open. “There are female vampires?”

She chuckled. “Of course there are. But, fortunately for you, I am not a vampire. Otherwise I would have already ripped out your throat.”

He paled. “You’re one of them?”

“Define ‘them,’” she said, strolling toward him across the long, narrow room.

“Immortal Guardians,” he sneered.

She shook her head. “I see you are as confused as your employer. As Bastien will soon learn, we are the good guys.”

“You’re murderers.”

She shrugged. “We only kill those who prey upon the innocent. Vampires, on the other hand, kill anyone who strikes their fancy.”

“That’s not true.” He grabbed some papers off the desk with his free hand and held them up. “Bastien’s vampires only kill pedophiles.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Like the one who murdered your son?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “How do you know about that?”

“The vampires didn’t just kill the men on that list. They killed the men’s wives, sons, daughters, grandchildren, and many others who were either oblivious to those men’s sickness or had been victimized by it themselves.”

“That’s … That can’t be. Bastien wouldn’t allow that.”

“Bastien doesn’t know. That’s why we’re here. We’ve seen the police reports and intend to put a stop to it.”

A masculine throat cleared in her head. I hate to interrupt your little chat, her brother said, but Roland has gone off to kill Bastien, leaving Seth, Marcus, and me to face the fifty-seven vampires spewing forth from the hallways down here. So, if you wouldn’t mind wrapping it up, we could really use some help.

Lisette grinned.

The blond eyed her warily and took a step back. “Why are you smiling?”

“I’m afraid my brother has summoned me. Time’s up.”

Before he could blink, she leapt over the desk, knocked the gun from his grasp, and yanked the computer’s power cord from the wall.

“Relax,” she said as she easily restrained him long enough to bind his hands behind his back. “I’m not going to kill you.” Shoving him into his chair, she yanked the ethernet cord from both the wall and the computer and bound his ankles as well.

“You can’t just leave me like this,” he said somewhat desperately as she tied it off. “If you’re telling the truth, won’t the vampires kill me if they find me like this and Bastien isn’t around to stop them?”

“Don’t worry.” She gave his knee a pat as she rose. “When we’re finished here, there won’t be any vampires left.”

A little faster, please, her brother gritted out.

I’m on my way.