Darkness Rises

Chapter 17

Krysta confronted the vampires in the shadows where trees and buildings blocked the view of the mercenaries on the rooftops. Only one mercenary lurked nearby, tucked in the bushes several yards away.

Étienne wasn’t kidding about the camouflage. If he hadn’t told her the mercenary was there, then shown her with the scope, she wouldn’t have known it. Even his scent had been dampened so much that it was nearly undetectable.

The vampires stopped short when she halted in front of them.

Yeah. These guys weren’t right. Their eyes were glowing and she hadn’t even confronted them. Their longish hair was unkempt and greasy. Their clothing looked and smelled as though it hadn’t been changed in days and carried the odors of multiple blood types. Their breath alone could kill a person.

Gross. She did not want to know what—or whom—they had been eating.

Breathing through her mouth, she watched them take in her presence, her weapons. They presented an interesting contrast. Two of them constantly fidgeted and twitched. The other two stood deathly still, like twisted mannequins.

The last was a little creepy.

Don’t underestimate the still ones. They’ll be as fast as the others, Étienne spoke in her head.

You just do what you have to do and leave these clowns to me, she ordered.

They didn’t ask if she was an Immortal Guardian. They just attacked.

Krysta began to swing her swords. Her new speed, coupled with her ability to see their auras and anticipate their actions, made it seem as though they moved in slow motion. She struck with such unerring accuracy that they didn’t have a chance.

Don’t get cocky, Étienne warned.

I think you’ve said that before.

She killed them all with an ease that astonished her, earning only the most superficial of wounds herself.

The mercenary there in the bushes will try to tranq you now, Étienne warned. Act swiftly.

Sheathing her weapons, she raced toward the bushes in a zigzag pattern.

Sure enough, a damned dart shot past her, nearly nicking her ear.

Reaching through the foliage, she knocked the tranq gun from the mercenary’s hands, seemingly by accident, and yanked him out into the open.

He was younger than she had expected. Sean’s age. Maybe less. For some reason she had thought he would be older. Face rough-hewn and hard. Skin lined and leathery from too many hours in the sun.

This guy’s skin was smooth and clean-shaven.

Eyes wide, he reached for the tactical knife on his belt.

Krysta knocked it from his grasp and, clutching the front of his shirt with one hand, yanked him close. So close the automatic rifle hooked to the strap around his neck was forced to the side and back, out of reach.

“Run,” she ordered, calling upon all of her high school drama class lessons to present a facade of fear.

“What?” he asked as he pried at her hand.

“Run!” She unobtrusively planted a tracking device on his rifle, then grasped his shirt with both hands and shook. “While you still have a chance. He’s coming. He’ll kill you!”

“You’re one of them!” he spat, unable to break her hold.

“I was turned against my will.” She wished she could squeeze out a few tears, but wasn’t that good an actress. “I—”

“What are you doing?” Étienne demanded behind her.

The mercenary’s fear magnified as he looked over her shoulder.

Krysta released her hold on the mercenary and moved to his side.

When he gripped his rifle, she stayed him. “Don’t. You’ll just piss him off. Run!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Étienne demanded. Remember what I told you. Give it your all. He has to think it’s real. He charged toward her.

Heart stopping with dread, Krysta drew back her fist and swung with all of her preternatural might. Pain shot up her arm as her fist hit his jaw.

Étienne, with all of the flair of a stuntman in a freaking action-adventure blow-’em-up movie, flew backward and struck the wall of the building behind him with a grunt, then collapsed to the ground.

“Go!” she shouted at the mercenary, who gaped first at Étienne and then at Krysta.

He reached for the walkie on his shoulder.

She shook her head. “They’re all dead. I heard him kill them. It’s why he left me to fend for myself with those monsters who attacked me.”

He tried the walkie anyway and got nothing, his panic palpable.

Étienne rose with a groan, eyes glowing with what the mercenary no doubt took for promised retribution, but Krysta suspected was actually . . .

Was that desire?

She grabbed the mercenary by the shoulder and gave him a shove to get him moving.

Whatever it was, she didn’t want to have to hit Étienne again. Her hand was throbbing and she didn’t like hurting him. “Go, damn it!” she cried. “Run!”

“Come with me,” he said, shocking the hell out of her.

Either she was a better actress than she had thought or he wanted to score points with his superiors by capturing an immortal.

Shaking her head, she looked at Étienne. “He’ll catch me. He always catches me. And he’ll torture you for helping me.” She added a hitch to her breath and was pleased at how close to a sob it sounded. “Just go.”

He did.

As the mercenary’s feet pounded the pavement, Étienne stalked toward her. Hold your breath and tense your neck muscles.

She didn’t ask why, just did it.

Étienne wrapped the fingers of one hand around her throat and lifted her off her feet just as the mercenary’s footsteps slowed and he turned to look back.

Krysta wrapped her hands around Étienne’s wrist and kicked her feet, pretending to fight even as she used her new strength to push herself up and ease the pressure on her neck.

Étienne wrapped an arm around her and shot off into the night. The hold on her neck became a caress. Krysta took several deep breaths as the campus swept past. Étienne jumped. The ground fell away and she found herself on the roof of . . .

Actually Krysta didn’t know the name of this building. But they were still on campus and could see the mercenary in the distance.

Étienne set her down, drew out his phone, and dialed.

“Reordon,” Chris answered.

It was so odd to be able to hear both sides of the conversation without the phone being on speaker.

“It’s Étienne. We tagged a mercenary at UNC Chapel Hill. He’s fleeing the campus, heading south on foot. I need a cleanup crew to come collect the eleven dead or unconscious mercenaries he left behind.”

He hung up before Chris could say anything, pocketed the phone, and yanked Krysta into his arms. “I’m sorry. I had to make it look real. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No. It was just uncomfortable for a second.”

His arms tightened as he swore in French. (She was beginning to recognize some words now.)

“What about you?” she asked to distract him. “Am I wrong, or did my knocking the crap out of you turn you on?”

Leaning back, he summoned a sheepish smile and pressed his hips against hers to let her feel his arousal. “You weren’t wrong.”

“Really? Are you into the rough stuff?” She had never thought of trying that kind of thing herself.

“I didn’t think so,” he said with a baffled shake of his head, “But you were”—his glowing eyes grew brighter—“magnificent.”

“Hmm. Is this . . . something you want to explore? Sexually?” She wasn’t sure how that would work. She knew without trying it that hurting Étienne wouldn’t turn her on. And she sure as hell didn’t want him to hurt her. Pain tended to piss her off.

“Not really,” he said. “I just adore your strength and seeing you in action aroused me.” He hesitated. “I’d try anything you asked me to, though. In bed or out of it. I want you to be happy.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Let’s leave the pain on the battlefield.”

“Agreed.” He dipped his head and kissed her.

Her pulse leapt.

As he teased her lips with his tongue, she palmed his erection. “Want to do something about this while we wait for the cleanup crew to arrive?” She sure as hell did. She didn’t know if it was the adrenaline still coursing through her veins or just knowing that he wanted her, but she was already wet for him, her body tingling and desperate for his touch.

“That depends,” he whispered against her lips, leaning into her. “How do you feel about making love in front of an audience?”

“That’s not my thing either,” she admitted. She had never been an exhibitionist.

A throat cleared. “Then you might want to step away from my brother,” Richart drawled behind them, “so I won’t get an eyeful.”

Krysta yanked her hand away so fast you’d think Étienne’s crotch had caught fire.

Spinning around, she found Richart standing there with one eyebrow raised.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, face heating.

“Étienne summoned me while he was dealing with the mercenaries.”

Krysta glanced back at Étienne. “My, aren’t you the multitasker.”

“Forgive me. I forgot I called him as soon as you hit me.” And turned me on. You managed to scatter my thoughts quite efficiently.

She could understand that. The desire he had sparked in her had made her forget about the mercenaries he had left strewn who-knew-where. She smiled. “Okay. You’re forgiven.” Particularly since Richart’s sudden presence had doused her lust as efficiently as a fire hose.

Étienne raised the scope and looked around. “Krysta, would you keep an eye out for more mercenaries while Richart and I gather together the dead and unconscious soldiers?”

“Sure.” She took the scope.

He brushed a kiss across her lips, then motioned for his brother to follow him over the edge of the building.

Krysta raised the scope to her right eye and turned in a slow circle, searching the campus in all directions.

If you get bored, Étienne suddenly spoke in her head, feel free to talk dirty to me. Richart can’t hear you.

She smiled and did just that.

Sitting on his haunches, Zach took in the melee below. UNC Greensboro’s campus was quiet and deserted save the immortal warrior who battled five vampires down on the ground.

A rare smile lifted his lips.

She was magnificent, remaining in constant motion, swinging her blades with merciless intent.

The vampires Lisette fought had long since lost their grasp on sanity. Zach searched their thoughts easily, and the things they wanted to do to her sickened him.

A vamp got in a lucky strike.

Blood formed a glistening streak across the back of her long coat.

Zach rose and curled his hands into fists, an unfamiliar feeling sweeping over him.

The lucky striker went down and began to shrivel up. His friends trod upon him in slavering urgency.

Again she struck a killing blow. Another vampire fell.

A noise distracted Zach. Then a scent.

He searched the darkened campus with eyes that needed no infrared scope to pierce the deepest shadows.

Human males with automatic weapons closed in on Lisette’s location.

Mercenaries.

He hadn’t expected this. He had merely wanted, for reasons he couldn’t discern, to see her in action. He hadn’t wanted to see her captured.

The hours he had spent watching Seth and his little superheroes, coupled with the hours he had spent eavesdropping at David’s house, had revealed what these men would likely do to her if they caught her.

The last vampire fell. Breathing hard, she cleaned her blade on the shirt of one of the fallen vamps and sheathed her weapons.

The humans took their positions.

A dart struck her in her pale, vulnerable neck.

Wincing, she reached up to identify the source of the sharp pain. Alarm crossed her pretty face as she staggered. She pulled something that looked like a fat, white pen from her pocket and stabbed herself in the thigh with it.

The mercenaries closed in, forming a circle around her.

Lisette dropped the pen and straightened.

A tense moment passed. Then another.

Zach took a step forward.

Moving so fast she blurred, Lisette drew her Glock 18s and raced toward the building on her left.

Muffled gunfire erupted as she leapt up a couple of stories, pushed off the side of the building and landed on the roof of the building across from it.

The soldiers scattered as she sprayed them with bullets from above. Four went down as holes opened on their torsos.

She jerked, bullets tearing through her slender body as the mercenaries scored hits of their own, but didn’t cease firing or run away.

Zach clenched his teeth.

She couldn’t win. She wouldn’t win.

And she lacked the time to call her brothers for aid.

She backed up and crouched down. Ejecting the long clips from her weapons, she drew two more from a pocket of her coat and shoved them into place.

Zach had never handled a gun before and admired her smooth, sure movements.

Staying out of sight of the men below, she headed for the opposite side of the building and leapt to the ground.

The mercenary group divided into thirds. One third remained in place. The rest divided in half and began to circle the building on both sides.

Shit!

Lisette sped into the open, crossing to the next building, and sprayed the soldiers with bullets.

They jerked and fell to the ground, only getting off a few shots of their own.

Maybe he had been too hasty. Maybe she would actually come out the victor.

No sooner had the thought struck than a dozen more mercenaries entered the fray.

Lisette raced directly into their midst, wreaking havoc, breaking necks, cutting throats, and taking more bullets and tranquilizer darts.

The darts didn’t worry him. He had heard the immortals say the antidote prevented further exposure to the sedative from affecting them. But the bullet wounds . . .

Instead of healing, they continued to bleed, a symptom of the weakness infiltrating her and spreading within as she continued to lose blood.

His heart pounded. His breath shortened.

She was slowing down. Still fighting. Still slaying. But slowing down. Suffering more wounds.

The soldiers tightened ranks, again boldly encircling her.

He sensed no fear in her, only a determination to take out as many as she could before she breathed her last breath.

Well, fuck that.

Knowing the step he was about to take would forever alter his future, Zach released his wings and took to the air.

Panting, gritting her teeth against the pain, Lisette swung her shoto sword at the soldier in front of her and sliced open his chest.

How many were there? It seemed as though every time she slew one, two more took his place.

And she was weakening, moving almost as slowly as a human, losing the edge immortal speed and strength had given her.

A breeze coaxed some of her hair from its braid.

She felt a presence behind her.

The mercenaries all gasped and stumbled backward, looking over her shoulder.

Lisette spun around . . . and gaped.

It was him. The elder immortal she, Roland, and Sarah had interrogated.

Zach.

Facing away from her, he wore only low-riding dark leather pants similar to the ones he had sported when she had abducted him. His wings were stretched wide, their tips brushing the walls of nearby buildings.

More than one of the mercenaries crossed themselves.

Zach waved a hand.

The mercenaries dropped their weapons to the ground with a clatter.

Lisette glanced behind her.

Yes. Those had dropped their weapons, too.

Dizziness assailed her.

She staggered, barely managing to remain on her feet. She had lost count of the number of times she had been shot.

Darkness threatened.

She couldn’t think, didn’t know what was happening.

Was Zach working with the mercenaries?

She stared at the back of his head, at his windblown, longish, raven hair.

“You,” he said, pointing at a soldier.

The mercenary stepped forward.

The elder immortal made a motion with his hand and closed it into a fist. The other mercenaries all collapsed to the ground, sightless eyes wide as they drew their last breaths.

Those beautiful wings folded in against Zach’s back.

He turned to face her.

Lisette tilted her head way back to look up at him. He was well over a foot taller than she was and she stood at five foot six.

“The tracking device,” he said, his glowing golden eyes locking on hers.

“W-what?” she rasped.

He held out a large hand, palm up. “The tracking device you’re supposed to plant on him. Give it to me.”

She dropped one of her beloved shoto swords and fumbled with the outer pocket that contained the tiny tracking device Chris had given her. Her fingers wouldn’t cooperate. She couldn’t even get the pocket open and it wasn’t buttoned.

Zach gently brushed her hand aside and tucked his own hand in the pocket. When he withdrew it, the tracking device was carefully pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

He waved the mercenary over.

The soldier approached robotically and waited patiently while the immortal picked up one of the discarded M16s, then attached the device to it.

Lisette wanted to protest when he handed the man the weapon, but couldn’t find enough breath for it.

“You saw neither of us tonight. Vampires attacked your squad and only you survived,” Zach said.

The mercenary nodded, then turned and jogged away.

Zach swiveled to face her.

“M-mind control?” she managed to ask.

He nodded.

She tried to ask about the others, but could only motion to them.

“Ruptured aneurysms. I’ve never altered the health of a human before and am actually surprised it worked.”

She nodded. Her knees buckled.

Zach caught her before she could hit the ground. “Easy,” he said, his voice soft and deep. Kneeling, he laid her on the ground with her upper body cradled in his lap.

Moonlight formed a halo around his head as she stared up at him, struggling for breath.

The bullets had done a lot of damage. She knew that, rather than kill her, excessive damage would send her into a sort of stasis not unlike the hibernation of a water bear. But she had never done that before and couldn’t help but fear the prospect as she felt her heart rate slow. And slow some more.

He rested a hand on her chest.

At first she thought he was feeling her up and forgot everything else in a few seconds’ shock. Then she realized his thumb rested upon her collarbone and his fingers weren’t splayed enough to reach her breasts.

His hand heated, warm and comforting. A tingling feeling engulfed her, part pleasure and part pain, beginning in her chest and sweeping down her arms to her fingers, down her torso to her thighs, calves, and toes. Misshapen bullets emerged from her flesh. Bleeding ceased. Wounds closed. Bones shattered by bullets fused themselves back together. Her collapsed lung reinflated. Her breathing grew easier. The pain receded, then vanished entirely.

He removed his hand from her chest, curling it into a loose fist, then rubbing his thumb against his fingers as though touching her had made him tingle.

She sat up, but didn’t move away. Just to double check, she pulled the neckline of her sticky shirt away from her body and peered down through it at her bare chest and bra-encased breasts. No wounds. Only dried blood.

She let the material fall back against her and stared up at him, too tired to attempt to stand yet. He had healed her wounds, but severe blood loss still rendered her weak.

A shiver shook her.

He unfurled his beautiful wings and cupped them around her like a tent, keeping the breeze at bay.

“Who are you?” she asked when she could find her voice. “Really?”

“Zach,” he said simply.

“That only tells me your name, not who you are.”

He shrugged. “Seth calls me Cousin.”

“You’re Seth’s cousin?” Merde. He really was an elder. She had never heard of any immortal other than David being so close to their leader in age. Or who may actually be able to match his power.

And that had been quite a power display, killing the mercenaries without even touching them.

“Why have I never heard of you?” she asked. “Why don’t you ever come inside when you visit David’s? Why do you keep your presence a secret?”

“Neither Seth nor David would want me there.”

“Why? Did you have a falling-out?”

He seemed to weigh his words. “Seth and I chose different paths when we were still young men and disagreed with each other’s choices.”

David would have, of course, taken Seth’s side. He and Seth were like brothers.

“Are you enemies?” She was pretty sure she would have heard about it if this man had been actively trying to kill Seth or wage war with him.

“No.”

Just no. Nothing more.

She had a feeling she wasn’t going to get anything more specific than that, but tried anyway. “So, you’re immortal, but don’t lead the life of an Immortal Guardian? You don’t hunt vampires or have a Second?”

“Correct.”

“Until tonight.”

“Technically, I let you slay the vampires, then took care of the mercenaries when you faltered.”

And saved her life. Had he not stepped in when he did, the mercenaries would have captured her. “So you intervened where, in the past, you would not have.”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “I couldn’t let them take you.”

“Why?”

His brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”

If she didn’t need blood so badly just then, she was sure her heart would have begun to beat faster.

Had he veered from his chosen path for her?

“You need blood,” he pointed out.

She nodded, a shock of excitement darting through her at the idea of leaning into him, pressing against that wide, muscled, bare chest, and touching her lips to his neck.

“I can’t give you mine,” he said, his deep voice full of . . . regret?

“Okay.” What the hell was she doing? Was she attracted to him? A man who had freely admitted he was at odds with Seth, the wisest man she knew and to whom she owed her life and allegiance?

Snapping out of it, she fumbled with her coat, seeking the right pocket and—fingers tangling in a couple of holes—managed to draw out her cell phone.

Or what was left of it. A bullet had forged a hole through it on its way to her liver.

Wonderful.

“May I borrow your phone?” she asked. “I need to call my Second.” Tracy could take care of notifying Chris that a cleanup crew was needed and have Richart bring Lisette some much-needed blood.

“I don’t carry a phone.”

Okay. Plan B.

She looked at the lifeless mercenary bodies around them. Tucking them away, out of sight, seemed a monumental task as low on energy and strength as she was right now. And when her energy was low, her telepathic range diminished greatly.

Étienne? she called. Perhaps he and Krysta were hunting nearby.

Nothing. Étienne! I need you.

Still nothing.

Richart? She had an even smaller chance of contacting Richart because he couldn’t send his reply telepathically. He could only think it and hope she would pick up on it.

“I can take you where you need to go,” Zach said, his eyes never leaving her.

She shook her head. “I can’t leave these bodies here. I need to contact the network and have them come clean things up, hide what happened from the humans.”

He sighed. “If I were a different man, I’d say you owe me one.”

One what? And shouldn’t being in this powerful immortal’s debt alarm her? “For killing the mercenaries and saving me?”

“No, for this.” He closed his eyes.

He was so handsome. Straight nose. Strong, shadowed jaw. Ebony brows over eyes so dark a brown they were almost black . . . when they weren’t glowing golden. Just like Seth’s.

He opened those eyes and met hers. “Help is on the way.”

“It is?”

“Can you sit by yourself?”

She hadn’t even realized he had been supporting her with an arm behind her back.

“Yes.” She sat up straighter.

Withdrawing his arm, he rose and backed away.

“Thank you,” she said, sensing he wouldn’t stay until help arrived.

He nodded. Bending his knees, he leapt up into the air and brought those powerful wings down, shooting into the sky like a missile and disappearing from sight.

Lisette didn’t know what to think. Of him. Of what he had done.

Seth appeared several yards away, his back to her. “What?” he growled. “I don’t appreciate being summoned so . . .” He trailed off.

Lisette felt as anxious facing Seth now as she had the first time she had realized just how much power he wielded.

Would he view her interaction with Zach as a betrayal?

He took in the dead mercenaries and turned around. “Lisette!” In a heartbeat, he knelt beside her and touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Just weak. I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

A couple of humans strolled in their direction, not yet in sight of the carnage.

Seth waved a hand in their direction, mentally guiding them away. “I was summoned here by another,” he said, studying her closely.

She swallowed. “Zach was here.”

No visible reaction. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. He saved me.”

A long pause followed, during which she fought the urge to squirm.

Was he reading her thoughts, surfing through them and replaying what had happened?

He drew out his phone and dialed. “Chris? Seth. Send a cleanup crew to UNCG. A couple of dozen mercenaries attacked Lisette and are dead. One fled bearing a tracking device.”

He had definitely read her thoughts. Lisette just hoped he hadn’t noticed the fascination and, yes, attraction she felt for the other elder.

“They did? Excellent. Keep me posted.” He pocketed his phone. “Étienne and Krysta also engaged mercenaries tonight, over at UNC Chapel Hill, and succeeded in planting a tracking device on one. Chris is already tracking him.”

“Good.”

“Can you hold out until the cleanup crew arrives, or shall I take you home or to David’s for blood now?”

“I can wait.” For blood. She couldn’t wait for a verdict on her encounter with Zach. “Are you angry?” she asked tentatively.

“With you? No.”

“With Zach?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Who is he, Seth?”

He looked at the bodies around them again. “I’m not sure anymore.”

“He said he’s your cousin,” she pressed.

“Did he?”

A human approached, accompanied by staticky walkie-talkie speech.

Lisette’s heart skipped. More mercenaries?

Seth covered her hand with his. “Campus security.” He looked in the direction from which the sounds came.

The human’s footsteps stopped, then carried him away.

Disturbed’s “Down With the Sickness” swelled from Seth’s pocket. Retrieving his phone, he answered, “Yes?” He met Lisette’s gaze and smiled. “Word travels fast. Yes, she’s here. She’s fine. Her phone was just destroyed.” He held out the phone. “It’s Tracy.” Don’t mention Zach.

Lisette took the phone, aware that Seth had neither confirmed nor denied that Zach was his cousin.

“Two mercenaries tagged,” he murmured as she assured Tracy she was fine and glossed over what had happened, leaving out Zach. “It’s been an interesting night.”

Once the immortals and Seconds staying at David’s had bedded down for the day, Seth and David retreated to David’s study.

Seth told him what had happened with Zach and Lisette.

David’s brow furrowed. “He helped her?”

Seth nodded, still unsure what to make of it.

“How did he kill the mercenaries? I didn’t think he carried a weapon.”

“He told Lisette he gave them all ruptured aneurysms.”

“That takes both power and precision.”

“He must be practicing.”

“On whom? And why?”

“I don’t know.”

Perhaps when Seth had warned Zach months ago that the Others couldn’t best him because Seth had been exercising and growing his powers, it had struck a nerve.

“How did he even know Lisette was in trouble?” David asked.

“I suspect he was following her.”

“Why would he do that?”

“She, Roland, and Sarah captured him a couple of weeks ago and interrogated him.”

David’s eyebrows nearly met his hairline. “I assume he let them.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Not yet.”

“What did they ask him?”

“He’s been seeing Ami. They wanted to know why.”

David’s face filled with pure menace. “By seeing her . . .”

“He’s been meeting with her on your roof.”

Utter disbelief mingled with the menace. “How did I not sense his presence?”

Seth shook his head. “He’s learned to mask it in some way. I didn’t even sense it myself. Had I not read Lisette’s thoughts, I would not have known anything about it.”

Judging by his expression, the idea that Zach could come and go without their knowledge unsettled David as much as it did Seth.

“Apparently,” Seth went on, “Ami can detect his presence and joins him up on the roof whenever he pulls gargoyle duty up there.”

“In her condition?” David said with disapproval.

Seth snorted. “She’s as sure-footed as a cat and has exhibited no dizziness thus far. I don’t think we have any worries there.”

David grunted. “So he can mask his presence, but not his energy signature.”

“Yes.”

“What is Ami’s interest in him?”

“I don’t know,” Seth admitted. He seemed to be saying that a lot lately. “I think that’s the biggest puzzle of all.”

David frowned. “You don’t think it’s romantic, do you?”

“No. Ami sees no one but Marcus in that light.”

“I agree.” David pondered the mystery for some time. “Perhaps he reminds her of you.”

Seth grimaced. “I hope not.”

The sound of a car turning onto the long drive caught his ear. He looked toward the front of the house the same time David did.

A window rolled down so the driver could lean out and punch in the security code.

The music of Miles Davis floated to their ears.

“Chris,” they said in unison.

Reordon always played Miles when he was stressed.

The car seemed to crawl up the lane so slowly Seth thought Chris could have walked and reached the house faster. The engine stopped. His car door opened and closed.

“Does Chris ever sleep?” David asked as they followed his progress up the walk and through the front door.

“Not much. Not enough. But he refuses to delegate.”

Footsteps approached from the hallway.

“You ever been to his place?” Seth asked.

David nodded. “Looked like a typhoon hit it.”

“Come on, guys,” Chris complained, entering. “I’m right here.”

“We know,” they said.

He dropped a briefcase on the floor and flopped down in the chair next to Seth, across the desk from David.

“How did the tracking go?” Seth asked.

“Very well.” He opened the briefcase, drew out a folded piece of paper, then leaned forward and spread a map out on the desk. “Both mercenaries headed for the same rendezvous point here.” He pointed to an area on the outskirts of Chapel Hill. “They remained there until daybreak, presumably to ensure they weren’t followed by immortals or vampires, then headed here on wheels they must have stashed somewhere because they moved much more quickly.” He pointed to an isolated area between Mebane and Saxapahaw. “Again, they waited, then were probably taken blindfolded by someone they met there—if the mercenaries stayed true to what they did before—to what I believe is the PMC’s base here near Burlington.”

He reached into his bag again and drew out an iPad. “Here’s a satellite image of the area,” he said, bringing it up for them.

Seth set the tablet on the desk so David could examine it, too, and leaned forward. “Did one of your new contacts send you this?”

“No. I’m leery of risking their involvement.”

Seth hesitated to say anything. Chris still labored under the ass-load of guilt piled on his shoulders after discovering that his former contacts and their spouses and children, had all been either tortured to death or shot execution style by the last mercenary group they had fought in an attempt to extract information and send a message. But one of the things that made Chris indispensable to the Immortal Guardians was his ability to recruit contacts in very high places. Contacts who had been invaluable in the past. “Chris—”

“I know. I’ll get there. I will. If I thought lives depended on it now, I would risk it in a heartbeat,” he said.

“Then where did you get this?” Seth tapped the satellite image of a building surrounded by forest.

“This is a map I got off the Internet. You can get satellite images of just about any place on the net by typing in the address or GPS coordinates, but the images are often out of date.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Seth murmured. “I don’t have time to explore crap on the Internet.”

David nodded. “And I’d rather read a good book when I find a few free minutes.”

“Admit it,” Chris said. “You’re both just a couple of old farts who are technologically challenged.”

“True.”

“Admitted without shame.”

Chris smiled and shook his head. “You can zoom out or in by pressing these buttons.”

David pressed the zoom out minus sign a couple of times and studied the area. “So this is probably out of date? The mercenaries could have expanded the structure or added security features?”

“Yes. This looks pretty generic, so I think you can pretty much bet on it. If they transport the mercenaries blindfolded and in windowless vehicles, I’m pretty damned sure they’re going to have every kind of security and surveillance feature they can afford.”

Seth caught David’s gaze. “Shall we go have a look?”

“I’m game.”

Chris slumped farther down in his chair. “I’ll wait here until you get back. Give me a call if you get into trouble.”

“Go lie down,” David urged him, rising.

Chris shook his head, eyelids heavy. “I’m good here.”

“You said it yourself,” Seth pressed. “We’re a couple of old farts, not youngsters.”

“Several thousand years your senior,” David added.

“So you don’t have to baby us,” Seth finished.

“To quote Sheldon and Melanie: Says you.”

The elders laughed and shook their heads. Striding from the room, they headed down the hallway, out the front door, and into bright afternoon sunlight.

“Teleport or fly?” Seth offered.

David closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sun. “Fly.”

That had been his choice as well. Flying was a real stress reliever.

The shadows they cast on the brick path morphed into that of large vultures as he and David shifted form and took to the sky.