Night Reigns

Chapter 12

Seth listened as Marcus’s boots traversed the hallway, climbed the stairs, and took him into the living room. An awkward silence fell over the group gathered there.

Seth smiled as he heard Sarah break it, valiantly pretending she hadn’t heard Marcus punch him in the face. The other immortals followed her lead, of course. Even those not present who had never met Sarah face-to-face would surrender much to ensure her happiness, never wanting her to regret her decision to join their ranks.

Once conversation resumed its normal flow upstairs, Seth heard the faint whisper of movement for which he had been waiting.

Ami ducked inside, then closed the thick door behind her.

Standing, Seth smiled and opened his arms. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Some of the anxiety left her face as she hurried forward.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her slight form.

Shrugging, she hugged him tightly.

He gave her a playful shake. “Talk to me.”

“Everyone was staring at me.”

“Of course they were. You helped Marcus destroy—”

“Don’t say it,” she interrupted, backing away with a frown. “If the words thirty-four come out of your mouth, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“Tired of hearing about it?”

“That would be an understatement.”

He shrugged. “You did something no other Second has ever attempted, let alone survived. Curiosity is only natural.”

Bypassing the wingback chair he had previously occupied, he lowered himself to the floor and sat with his back propped against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. Ami did the same, her shoulder touching his arm, ankles crossed. They had sat thusly countless times since he’d rescued her.

“You haven’t told him,” he murmured.

“You haven’t either.”

“You know I wouldn’t betray your trust.”

“I meant you haven’t told him about you. About who you are. What you are.”

She was the first person in many millennia with whom he had shared the information, and Seth could not, for the life of him, understand why he had done so. “You know I can’t.”

“Because if he and the others trusted the wrong person with the information you would be hunted even more zealously than if the immortals’ genetic differences came to light?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think I would be less hunted than you if the truth about me were known?”

“Marcus wouldn’t betray your trust any more than I would.”

“You think he would betray yours. Isn’t that why you haven’t told him?”

He wondered how to explain the difference. “Couples share secrets, Ami. No doubt you and Marcus already have a few of your own.” Like their first meeting, which had not, as they had led him to believe, taken place at Marcus’s house the night Seth had assigned Ami to be his Second. “The closer and more intimate the relationship, the more secrets pass between you. If I told Marcus the source of his unique DNA, don’t you think he might wish to share that with you?”

“But if you forbid him to—”

“He would feel conflicted about keeping the information from you.”

“But I already know.”

“Yes. And he is just one immortal. If I tell him, I must tell the others. To do otherwise would be unfair. And not all immortals live solitary lives. There are those who have lovers with whom they would long to share the truth. If even one placed his or her trust in the wrong person, whispered the truth in the wrong ear”—and one always did—“disaster and utter destruction would follow.”

As Marcus had complained, history always repeated itself. And Seth could not bear to go through that again. He had learned his lesson well.

“You shouldn’t have told me, should you?” she asked.

He smiled. “No. And I’m not sure why I did. Perhaps, on some level, I knew that you were the one person I could tell because of your own circumstances.”

“I won’t betray you, Seth.”

“Nor will I you.”

Lowering her head, she tucked her hands in her lap, fiddled with her fingers. “I thought for a moment that you might have told Marcus about me when he came down, that that was why you closeted yourself in here with him.”

“I did that in an attempt to preserve your privacy. He wanted to know if you were a gifted one.”

Her smooth brow puckered. “I already told him I’m not.”

Seth covered her fidgeting hands with one of his. “He suspects you’re different, Ami. You should tell him the truth.”

“I can’t. He’ll think I’m a freak.”

“No, he won’t.”

“You didn’t see how he reacted when he found out I have premonitions.”

No, but Seth could imagine. The flare of hope, followed by savage disappointment when she insisted she wasn’t a gifted one. “He was just confused. And disheartened because he thought you couldn’t be transformed.”

“I can’t be transformed.”

“I know.” He studied her a moment. “Do you love him, Ami?”

She began to toy with his fingers.

“Or have I misread the situation? Is it too soon?”

“I’ve never been in love before,” she admitted, voice low, “but I think so.”

“Then trust him enough to tell him.”

“I don’t want him to think I’m a freak. A monster.”

“What makes you think he will?” he asked, baffled by her certainty.

She chewed her lower lip. “You, David, and Darnell did when you found out.”

“We did not!” he protested. Whatever would make her think so?

She raised her head, met his gaze with sad eyes. “I know you all tried to act unaffected but ... for days, after you found out about me, you couldn’t stop staring.”

He thought back to when Darnell had finally decrypted the files they had stolen the morning they’d rescued her and had discovered the truth about her. Who she was. What she was. All that had been done to her.

Had they stared? Made her feel uncomfortable? Afraid? Like a bug under a microscope waiting to see if they were going to pluck off its wings?

Or the freak she seemed to think they all considered her?

“Ami,” he began, then floundered. “We didn’t ... I’m not certain you appreciate ...” He tried to gather his thoughts. “David and I have both lived thousands of years, long enough to have witnessed biblical events. In all of our millennia spent wandering the Earth, we have neither of us ever encountered one such as you. It ... It was something of a shock. But—”

“And you think it wouldn’t be a shock for Marcus?”

Seth began to wonder if betraying Ami’s trust might not actually be the best way to handle this situation. Maybe if he took Marcus aside and clued him in to all that had happened a year and a half ago, it would give Marcus a chance to experience the shock, get past it, and react better when Ami told him.

On the other hand, Ami’s recollection of their reaction might be a trifle skewed. She had not known them at the time and had feared them so much that she had refused to eat any food they offered her unless she watched them prepare it and one of them tasted it first to ensure it hadn’t been poisoned.

No, ultimately when and how to tell Marcus—or even if—was Ami’s decision.

But perhaps Seth could urge that revelation along.

“Let me ask you something. How would you feel if I told you that Marcus isn’t immortal, that he is actually a vampire? That, for reasons we’ve yet to discern or understand, the mental deterioration that strikes other vampires so swiftly has been slowed significantly in him, but is still taking place and will soon reach the critical point that will rob him of his sanity ... and that is why his behavior has become so erratic?”

Horror suffused her features, increasing with every word he spoke. “Is that true?” she demanded hoarsely.

“No,” he assured her.

Her shoulders wilted with relief.

“But, if it were, would you still love him?”

“Yes.”

“Would you stay with him?”

“Yes, of course I would.”

“And how do you think you would have reacted when he told you?”

She sighed heavily.

Seth released her hands and looped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t underestimate him.”

She leaned her head against his chest. “I’m so tired of carrying this fear around with me all of the time.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He knew well the fear she lived with and admired her so much for working through it and conquering it. “But even you must see it’s beginning to lose its hold on you.”

She shook her head and looked up at him with eyes that shimmered with moisture. “Can you heal me, Seth? Make it go away?”

It was something she had never asked him before.

“I can’t,” he said past the sudden obstruction in his throat. To do so, he would have to remove the events that had spawned it from her memory. Losing that knowledge would leave her vulnerable and prove too great a danger. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He looked toward the door, hearing what no other immortal would be able to through the extensive soundproofing. “Darnell is coming. We should head upstairs.”

A single tear trailed down her cheek, but she valiantly swept it away and straightened her shoulders.

Seth rose, took her small hand, and helped her to her feet. “It’s going to be all right, Ami.”

Her lips tilted up at their corners, though her eyes remained disconsolate. “A premonition?”

He shook his head. “A rare moment of optimism.”

“Rare indeed,” she said with a smile, and started for the door.

Seth maintained his hold on her hand, stopping her, as a warning sounded in his head. “Wait.”

She glanced at him, her face questioning.

“You told Marcus you have premonitions.”

She grimaced. “It was the best way I could think of to describe them.”

“You had one of your feelings?”

“Yes.”

“In regard to what?”

“The meeting with Roy tonight.” She shook her head. “Something bad is going to happen. I don’t know what, but something’s going to go wrong. I know it.”

He considered this new development and coupled it with the information Chris and Darnell had found. “We’ll change our strategy, scrap the old plan and form a new one that will cover all the bases and add a contingency on top of that.”

She nodded, but didn’t look reassured.

Uneasy (Ami and her feelings were rarely wrong), Seth opened the door.

Darnell stood patiently in the hallway beyond, waiting for them to conclude their talk. His sharp eyes skimmed Ami’s features. “Everything okay?”

She nodded.

His gaze slid to Seth’s. “What about you? You good?”

David must have told Darnell Marcus had hit him.

“I’m good. Let’s go decide how we’re going to handle Roy and whatever he’s got up his sleeve.”

No amount of duct tape could make the broken, splintered furniture anything close to steady, comfortable seating for men packing two hundred pounds of muscle. Neither could hammer and nails. So everyone gathered in the dining room.

Once the food had been cleared away, Seth and David sat in the positions of power at opposite ends of the table that could seat twenty-four. Ami sat between Seth and Marcus, with Sarah and Roland across from her. The d’Alençons sat beside Roland, their Seconds across from them beside Marcus. Yuri and Stanislav took the seats beside David on Ami’s side of the table. Chris Reordon’s men seated themselves next to Stanislav.

Bastien sat on the other side at David’s elbow. No one sat beside him.

Chris Reordon circled the table, handing everyone a thin, manila file folder. When he reached Bastien, Chris gave the hand the immortal held out a sneering look, bypassed him and the empty chairs beside him, and took a seat beside the d’Alençons.

“Chris,” Seth intoned.

“What?” He tossed the remaining files on the table and crossed his arms. “I don’t trust him. For all we know he could be orchestrating what brought us here.”

David sighed and held out a hand. The folder on top slid across the polished wood and delivered itself into his fingers. “Here.” He handed it to Bastien, his eyes never leaving Chris. “He isn’t.”

“How do you know? The fact that he breached network headquarters and tore into my men illustrates that he isn’t under your control.”

“He is my protégé, not my prisoner.”

Ami was a little surprised to hear that. She hadn’t realized David had taken on sole responsibility for the training and supervision of the rather reluctant inductee into the Immortal Guardians’ ranks.

“Well, maybe he should be your prisoner. Where were you when he was attacking my men?”

“Chris,” Seth barked, but David raised a calm hand to halt whatever reprimand he planned.

“I was healing an immortal in Sudan whose hand had been severed. Where were you?” David countered. “I believe Bastien attempted to follow protocol when he arrived at network headquarters and was refused entrance.”

“I didn’t think he should be allowed contact with the vampires unattended. Not after what had happened with Marcus and Ami.”

“A thirty-second phone call would have netted him an escort if safety concerns had been your true motivation. Instead you allowed bias to govern your actions.” David’s mahogany gaze skimmed everyone present. “Should any of you share Chris’s suspicions, rest assured Sebastien had nothing to do with the current uprising. Seth and I have both examined his thoughts.”

“Even those he intentionally blocks?” Chris asked.

Some immortals, Ami knew, were strong enough to hide their thoughts from all but the most powerful telepaths. Or there were those like Richart who, having spent all of his life in the presence of a telepathic brother and telepathic sister, had learned over time to erect unusually strong barriers in his mind.

“Even those,” David confirmed.

When Chris retreated into belligerent silence, David smiled. “Need proof? Very well. You may be pissed about Sebastien’s encroaching upon your domain and injuring your men. Your pride may be hurt because you thought the network impregnable, yet were unable to halt his incursion. But you do not condemn him for slaying Vincent because deep down you believe it was an act of mercy, and you are relieved that the young vampire will no longer suffer.”

All eyes focused on Bastien and Chris. Both wore matching scowls.

Had Bastien killed the young vampire at the vamp’s request? Ami alone knew how he fretted over them, despising himself for not being able to help them. He let no others see that side of himself.

Seth leaned forward. “All right. No more objections to Sebastien’s presence. This matter concerns him, and he has information that may benefit us.”

Across from her, Roland opened his mouth to make what surely would have been a caustic rebuttal, but emitted only a grunt as a thud sounded beneath the table. The curmudgeonly warrior shot his wife a reproving look that softened into a smile when she winked impishly.

Ami clamped her lips together to keep from laughing.

Darnell entered, holding a cell phone to his ear. “Okay. Thanks.” He lowered the phone, his gaze seeking Seth’s. “We have confirmation.”

Seth nodded. Ami silently applauded Darnell when he seated himself beside Bastien.

Chris handed him a folder.

“Some new intel has come to light,” Seth announced. “We all assumed this new uprising was being led by a vampire Roy referred to as their king. We now have reason to believe otherwise.”

“Don’t tell me it’s another immortal!” Richart blurted out.

“No,” Seth assured him. “It isn’t an immortal. It’s a human.”

Darnell nodded. “Dr. Montrose Keegan, the scientist who worked with Bastien, is back in town. We were alerted to the possibility by a substantial withdrawal made from his bank account, which has been inactive since he vanished after Bastien’s ... um—”

“Sound defeat?” Roland drawled helpfully.

“Roland,” Seth spoke softly, “don’t provoke.”

Darnell cleared his throat. “I was going to say change of circumstances. Anyway, we’ve confirmed that Montrose himself withdrew the money. Neither his card nor his identity were stolen. We even have surveillance footage of him entering the bank.”

Lisette pursed her lips. “An interesting coincidence.” She looked to Seth. “Do you think he is the vampires’ leader?”

“It seems a logical conclusion,” he said.

“Bullshit,” Bastien scoffed. “Montrose may have brains, but courage? Not an ounce. He’s as cowardly as they come and wouldn’t have the bollocks needed to lead a dozen vampires, let alone what is beginning to look like an army of hundreds.”

“Are you sure?” Seth asked.

“Absolutely. To lead vampires, you have to interact with them personally. They won’t take orders from someone they never see. And if they don’t fear you, they won’t follow you. Vampires don’t fear humans. Montrose never came to the farmhouse, never dealt with anyone face-to-face other than his brother Casey and me. He was terrified of vampires, too timid to even ask me for a blood sample, and I was the sanest of the lot. Instead he just ran his tests on his brother, content to remain hidden in his basement laboratory. And there were times he even feared Casey.”

Marcus leaned forward. “Are you saying you think he’s not involved?”

“Not at all. I’m saying he isn’t the ringleader. Their so-called king must truly be a vampire, though I don’t know how Montrose hooked up with him. Or why. Casey is dead. Montrose can’t help him and has lost that motivation.”

Ami considered the likely options. “Maybe the vampires heard about him and enlisted his aid to find a cure.”

Bastien shrugged. “It’s possible.”

Sarah leaned forward so she could look past the others and meet Bastien’s gaze. “Could he be seeking revenge?”

Bastien tilted his head to one side, considering her idea. “Against the immortals? For killing Casey in the final battle?”

“No, against you. If rumor has reached him that you’ve switched sides ... he may blame you for his brother’s death. Maybe he thinks you sold the others out and handed Casey over to his killers.”

Ami looked up at Marcus. “Roy did ask for Bastien personally.”

Bastien sat up straighter. “He did?” His gaze went to Seth, then David. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Chris motioned to the file David had given Bastien. “It’s all there in the file.”

Irritation flickered across Bastien’s handsome features as his eyes began to glow. “I haven’t had a chance to read the damned file. It was just handed to me.” He met Ami’s gaze. “What happened? What did he say?”

Ami told him.

“He wants my help?”

Though Bastien’s face was impassive, Ami saw the pain beneath the surface. He wanted desperately to trust the vampires and take their desire to seek a cure at face value, having lived among them for so long. But he had been badly deceived.

“So he claimed,” she cautioned.

“Roy’s lying,” Roland remarked. “It’s a trap.”

“I agree,” Darnell inserted. “Roy asked for Roland, Sarah, and Bastien—the only three immortals with whom Montrose is familiar—the night before Montrose Keegan resurfaced. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Marcus settled a hand on Ami’s thigh. “He thinks Sarah is still human, that she’s Roland’s Second.”

“That will work to our advantage,” Sarah pointed out. “They won’t be anticipating my strength and speed.”

Étienne inspected her from the corner of his eye, a sly smile stealing across his face. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into leaving this old sod and running away with me? I do so love strong women.”

Roland’s jaw twitched. “She’s strong enough to kick your ass if you don’t stop hitting on her.”

The sly smile became a grin full of amusement. “As long as she spanks me first.”

Roland’s eyes flashed bright amber. Étienne’s chair suddenly flew out from under him, dropping him to the floor in an ignominious heap.

His siblings exploded with laughter.

French epithets flew from his lips. “I was just joking!”

“Not about this you don’t,” Roland warned.

Seth exchanged a resigned stare with David. “What has gotten into them tonight?”

David shrugged. “Too much sugar?”

His dignity ruffled, Étienne rose, retrieved his chair, and took a seat.

“Sebastien,” Seth asked, “what are the chances Montrose will be present at this meeting?”

“None.”

“Then here’s what we’ll do. Roland will pose as you—”

“I’m going,” Bastien stated.

“No, you aren’t. You’re too great a distraction. The others don’t trust you and, if this is a trap, can’t afford to watch you and whatever Roy and his vampire king will throw at them at the same time. As I said, Roland will pose as you, and Marcus and Ami will continue to impersonate Roland and Sarah.” He looked at Marcus. “David and I will accompany you and linger downwind in the shadows, ready to come to your aid should you need us. The five of us should have no difficulty foiling whatever their battle plan is. Sarah, Lisette, Étienne, and Richart, I want you to conduct your usual patrols to ensure this isn’t merely a diversion meant to get us out of the way and aid their recruiting efforts. Yuri and Stanislav, roam where you will and keep your phones on. Seconds, monitor our progress and be prepared to act should we need you. Chris, ready the network’s holding cells, have additional medical personnel available both at the network and here at David’s, and intensify security.”

Everyone nodded except for Bastien, who stewed in furious silence.

“All right then. Richart, did you acquaint yourself with the rendezvous location?”

“Yes, on the way here. I will have no problem teleporting there should you need me.”

“Excellent. I—” The screaming guitar intro to Steppen-wolf ’s “Magic Carpet Ride” danced on the air. Leaning to one side, Seth retrieved his cell phone from a back pocket. His brow furrowed as he noted the name of the caller. “Yes?”

Moments passed. Seth’s free hand clenched into a tight fist on the table as the other immortals stiffened.

“How big?” he asked, voice tense.

Concern crept through Ami. Had someone been injured?

“Give me a moment,” Seth said. Lowering the phone, he stood. “Change of plans.”

“What is it?” Chris asked.

Ami had rarely seen Seth look so grim. “There’s been an earthquake in Ecuador.”

His gaze met David’s. David rose and rounded the table.

Ami stood. “How bad is it?”

“Bad. David and I will go immediately to render aid and help those we can.”

They had done the same in Haiti, carefully combing through the rubble, lifting stone and wall and materials that would normally have required forklifts or other heavy machinery to shift, moving silently through streets strewn with bodies, listening for even the faintest heartbeat within the piles of mortar.

“I’ll get our gear,” David said and left the room so quickly he seemed to vanish.

“Sarah, Lisette, Étienne, and Richart, I want you all to accompany Roland, Marcus, and Ami.” He met Marcus’s gaze. “We cannot risk even one of you being captured. They will do as David and I intended, remain downwind and ready to leap in if necessary.” He looked to the other end of the table. “Sebastien, I want you to patrol with Yuri and Stanislav. You’ve been here long enough to be familiar with the area. Focus on the college campuses so Richart can easily teleport to you to bring you in for back up should they need you.”

Bastien gave a curt nod.

Stanlislav glanced at Yuri, who did not look pleased. “I thought he could not be trusted.”

Seth’s gaze bore into Bastien’s. “Can you be trusted?” A muscle in Bastien’s cheek jumped. “Yes.”

Ami couldn’t identify the emotion contained in that word. Reluctance? Weariness?

David returned with two heavy canvas bags. Looping one over his shoulder, he held out the other.

Seth took it. “Darnell, I want you to monitor things from here.”

He nodded. “Be careful.”

Everyone at the table knew that request arose not out of fear that Seth or David would be physically harmed in their efforts but that their differences—their gifts—would be detected.

Nodding, Seth reached out and settled a hand on David’s shoulder.

In the next instant, they were gone.

Marcus glanced at the woman who stood beside him. Moonlight filtered down from above, swimming through wispy clouds, then picking its way through barren tree limbs to dabble in Ami’s curly, sienna tresses the way Marcus’s fingers longed to.

She wore no coat to stave off the frigid wind. Swiftly losing the heat from her body, it rested on the ground behind her, discarded so it wouldn’t slow her movements in the coming moments. Black cargo pants hugged her hips. The long-sleeved, black shirt above them molded itself to her breasts and narrow waist. Over one shoulder hung one of the reloading blocks Darnell had made for her with six 31-round clips velcroed in place on each. The Glock 18’s they would equip weighted holsters strapped to her thighs.

Ami’s small, slender fingers hovered near the weapons’ grips as she studied the empty clearing before them. Her pale cheeks and nose began to pinken from the winter chill. White clouds formed in front of her lips with every exhalation.

Damn, but he loved her. That it had happened so swiftly shouldn’t surprise him. Roland had fallen for Sarah in mere days.

Unable to resist touching her in that moment, Marcus settled his hand on her lower back, careful to avoid the two sheathed katanas that rode down its center.

She looked up, green eyes pensive.

“Still have that feeling?” he asked.

“Stronger than ever.”

On his other side, Roland murmured, “What feeling?”

They had arrived at the rendezvous point a couple of minutes ago. Nothing two-legged had stirred in the time since. The large farmhouse that had formerly resided in the picturesque clearing and served as Bastien’s lair had been razed a year and a half ago after the defeat of Bastien’s army. No sign of it remained, not even a weed-strewn cement slab. The maze of tunnels beneath the house, once home to a hundred or more vampires, had been packed with the house’s structural rubble, then filled and augmented with dirt, gravel, and sand that had settled into a low knoll.

Tall trees, a random mixture of deciduous and evergreen, formed an imperfect circle around the clearing. The muddy tire tracks that had once passed for a road now nourished a sprinkling of saplings and the brittle beige remains of thigh-high weeds.

“What do you smell?” Marcus asked Roland.

Chin rising slightly, Roland drew in a deep breath. “Something ... very faint.”

Marcus had caught it, too. An odor so weak it was more like the memory of a scent.

“Men,” Roland continued. “A group of them, though I can’t discern how many.”

“Here now, lingering just far enough away to elude us?” Marcus asked, but didn’t think so. Something about it didn’t feel fresh.

The older immortal shook his head. “More like they’ve come and gone. Though how long ago I know not.”

“Perhaps they came earlier to scope out the battle site. Plan their attack.”

“Those were my thoughts.”

“Look at the grass. Enough blades have been bent and flattened to suggest quite a few.”

“Yes.”

Marcus peered into the shadows, searching for any whisper of movement. His sharp eyes honed in on miniscule broken branches and twigs that confirmed the recent passage of large bodies. Yet nothing aside from foliage bent or swayed.

Ami shifted restlessly beside him. “I smell something earthy.”

“Like freshly turned soil?” The scent was as prominent as that of crushed grasses.

“Yes, but I don’t see anything.”

Neither did he. Nothing that indicated any digging had taken place. Only a clod of dirt here or there that had likely been displaced by heavy boots like his own.

“Something isn’t right,” Roland rumbled.

The hairs on the back of Marcus’s neck prickled. An instant later a new scent reached them.

“We’ve got incoming,” Roland announced grimly, drawing his sais.

Ami curled her fingers around the grips of her Glocks. “How many?”

Marcus sorted through the odors. “Three or four. All vamps.”

Though the vampires were two miles away when Marcus and Roland first detected them, it took them only a minute or so to reach the clearing.

And those sixty seconds seemed to last an eternity.

He could appreciate why Roland now tended to become rather pissy before a confrontation with vampires. Considering his irascible nature, most wouldn’t have noticed a difference. But Marcus knew him well. Even so, he couldn’t have been more surprised by Roland’s answer when he’d questioned him about it.

It’s fucking nerves. Can you believe it? Nine hundred years on the planet, almost as many years spent dispatching vampires on a nightly basis, and now I feel a nervousness that borders on fear.

Why? You’ve never stressed over fighting vampires before.

I’ve never had anything to lose before. What I have with Sarah ... I don’t ever want anything to jeopardize that, Marcus. I don’t ever want to lose her. Yet, each night we go out and hunt an ever-increasing number of vampires together, and any one of them could get in a lucky strike.

Footsteps approached.

Marcus fought the urge to move closer to Ami, to reach out and shove her behind him. He couldn’t bear the thought of her getting hurt again and was comforted only by the knowledge that Roland was a powerful healer who could mend all but the most severe wounds if this all went to shit.

It also eased his anxiety a bit to know that Richart was only moments away, ready to teleport in and whisk her to safety if Marcus should order it.

The trees across the clearing parted. Three figures stepped into the moonlight: Roy, flanked on either side by vampires who looked as if their image should grace a frat house’s Facebook page. Golden hair cut short. Pretty boy faces. Fucking lettermen jackets of all things.

Roy himself looked like any number of twenty-year-olds dressed in a hoodie with the hood down, except his jeans weren’t four sizes too large. (It was a little hard to fight when the waist of your pants hung beneath your ass and the crotch was down by your knees.) The uncertainty he had displayed last night was gone, replaced by a smug confidence that—as far as Marcus was concerned—confirmed their suspicions that this was a setup.

Bold as brass, the three vamps strode to the center of the clearing and stopped, legs planted shoulder’s width apart.

Three vampires. Four heartbeats.

His hand still resting on Ami’s back, Marcus tapped her four times with his index finger to warn her a fourth was in hiding, then withdrew and rested his palms on the hilts of his short swords. “I thought this was supposed to be a private meeting,” he drawled, strolling forward.

Roland and Ami followed at his elbows.

Roy shrugged. “Insurance. Can’t blame me for being careful, can you? Besides, if he’s who you say he is,” he nodded at Roland, “then maybe he can help all three of us.”

Marcus stopped a few yards away from them.

The vamps focused their attention on Roland.

“Are you Bastien?” Roy asked.

“Yes,” Roland lied.

Roy slid his gaze to Marcus and Ami. “I thought you wanted Roland and Sarah dead.”

Roland offered Roy a grim smile. “Who says that desire has changed?”

“You’re here with them, aren’t you? Why are you siding with the immortals now?”

“Because I’m immortal, not vampire, a slight misunderstanding the one who transformed me failed to clarify.”

Roy slipped his hand into one of the front pockets of his hoodie and clutched something small secreted away there.

Marcus tensed.

“So now you hunt vampires like me?” Roy’s eyes began to glow.

“Only those who kill indiscriminately, turn humans against their will, and do not desire my help. If you fall into that category, so be it.”

That probably could have been phrased better.

Roy smiled, expectation seeping into his countenance. “So be it.” The hand in his hoodie jerked.

The ground beneath their feet shook with a sudden explosion.

Dirt, rock, and clods of dormant grasses and weeds spewed into the air like geysers as vampires burst from the earth all around them.

What the hell?

Marcus whipped his swords from their sheaths as Roy and his companions drew blades and leapt forward, eyes flashing, lips pulling back in snarls that revealed descending fangs.

Roland and Ami spun in tandem, putting their backs to his. Marcus swung, deflecting the frat boys’ long, bulky machetes. Roland began hurling throwing stars with the speed and power of a crossbow launching an arrow. Gunshots split the night, drowning out shouts and cries of pain as Ami drew her Glocks and fired.

All around them, vampires poured from dirt craters like cockroaches from the sewers. They must have breached the buried tunnels of Bastien’s lair. Breached them, cleared them out, then rigged the soil above them with explosives to blow holes that would allow the ground to vomit them forth like lava.

The scents of men Roland and Marcus had smelled had been faint because they had been crammed into the tunnels underground, waiting to catch the trio off guard. Dozens and dozens and dozens ...

One of the frat boys fell back when Marcus drew first blood. Roy’s broadsword—a weapon rarely found amongst the vampire ranks—sliced through Marcus’s shirt and bisected the flesh of his shoulder.

Growling, Marcus put all of his strength behind his next swing, deflecting the blow meant to sever his head and snapping Roy’s blade in two.

Roy’s mouth fell open as he stumbled back.

Dumb ass. That’s what happened when you purchased weapons off of cable shopping networks. Marcus’s weapons were centuries old and had been handcrafted by master bladesmiths. The weapons created today for amateur collectors were flimsy by comparison.

Marcus delivered a death blow before Roy could recoup, then puckered his lips and emitted a sharp, ear-piercing whistle.

One of Ami’s Glocks fell silent. He heard a clip hit the ground, followed by a new one being slammed home and ripped from its Velcro anchor. The other Glock fell silent even as she advanced the first bullet into the chamber and recommenced firing the first.

Marcus’s heart pounded as he listened intently, taking out first one frat boy, then the other with relative ease. Half a dozen more vampires took their place.

Roland’s sais, already coated in blood, flashed in Marcus’s peripheral vision.

Ami’s second Glock resumed fire. Blood spattered the back of Marcus’s neck, alerting him to how close she had come to being overridden while reloading.

Damn it! Where were—

Richart appeared behind Marcus’s current opponent and drove a dagger into his heart. As the vampire dropped, Richart vanished.

A blade sank into Marcus’s thigh.

Grunting, he impaled the vampire who dared wield it.

Richart reappeared three yards away, his back to Marcus, daggers still in hand. Two of the vampires racing toward Marcus jerked to a halt as Richart’s blades sank into their throats. Richart disappeared again as they fell to the ground.

Marcus grinned. He had never fought beside Richart before and had to admire his style.

Chaos rippled through the vampire army. No longer so confident, the vamps began to divide their attention between fighting Marcus, Roland, and Ami and looking around wildly for the figure that kept appearing and disappearing in their midst like the Grim Reaper culling souls.

Marcus seized the advantage, remaining in perpetual motion as vampires continued to scramble forth from the earth.