Phantom Shadows

Chapter 9

“Sir?”

Emrys turned away from greeting his guests, noted the soldier’s grim expression, and clenched his teeth. Holding up a hand to stay the soldier’s words, he faced his guests once more and donned a false smile. “This will only take a moment. If you’ll head into my office, I’ll join you shortly.”

Nodding, they entered his office.

Emrys reached in, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled the door closed. “What is it?” he murmured to the soldier.

“We’ve lost contact with Team Viper.”

“Damn it. I told you to maintain radio silence in the field. The squawk of a radio or the vibration of a cell phone is guaranteed to give away your positions.”

“Yes, sir. We have not attempted to contact any of the groups in the field. But they were ordered to contact us at the top of every hour, either with a few clicks over the radio or with a phone call, asking one of a dozen predetermined, totally inane questions that anyone with preternatural hearing would assume came from one of the students on campus. Team Viper has done neither for two hours. They’ve gone silent.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, sir. Should we try to raise them on the radio? Call one of their cell phones?”

“No. Send Black Mambo to UNC. Full stealth mode.” He started to turn away, paused, and reconsidered. “Where’s Team Taipan?”

“NCCU, sir. They just checked in.”

“Have them meet Black Mambo at UNC.”

“Yes, sir.”

Emrys entered his office and closed the door behind him. “Gentlemen, thank you for meeting with me.” He motioned to the chairs facing his desk. “Please, have a seat and make yourselves comfortable.”

“How have you been?” Donald asked, taking the seat on the right as Nelson seated himself on the left. “I haven’t heard from you since . . . the incident.”

Emrys ground his teeth again, but made damn sure he kept his smile as he circled the desk and seated himself behind it.

Donald hadn’t seen him since Emrys had been dishonorably discharged from the military.

“I’ve been good. I’ve been busy.”

Donald nodded. “I was surprised to hear who my competition was.”

Yeah, I bet you were, Emrys thought. Donald had retired from the military a year after Emrys had been forced out. But Donald had been given a going away party. Donald had been asked to stay. Donald had turned down a promotion.

Then Donald had done the same thing Emrys had: gone into the professional army business. More money. Less risk to himself. And, let’s face it, as Emrys’s son frequently said, mercenaries kicked ass.

Nelson was Donald’s right-hand man. Emrys had never met him before today and didn’t know if Nelson was looking down his nose at Emrys because he had heard about the incident or if he was just an arrogant dick because he and Donald had found greater success than Emrys had.

No thanks to the Immortal Guardians. Emrys was convinced now that those were the bastards who had stolen Amiriska, though what they wanted with the alien bitch he couldn’t guess.

While only a handful knew what he had been doing in his central Texas facility, the loss his company had suffered as a result of the immortals’ raid had been a big one. And the lies told to cover up the research he had been hired to conduct had severely damaged his credibility.

All of that, however, was about to change.

“As was I,” Emrys said at last.

“I heard you ran into some trouble two or three years ago. This is a tricky business, is it not?”

Just keep smiling. You need this asshole’s money. “It certainly is. But things are looking very good for me right now.”

Donald exchanged a skeptical look with Nelson. “Are they?”

“How so?” Nelson asked.

“What we’re about to discuss doesn’t leave this room,” Emrys warned.

“All right,” Donald verbalized as both nodded.

“I’ve recently discovered something that will make me a very wealthy man. I might even go so far as to say one of the wealthiest men in the world. And, if you play your cards right, you can join me in my triumph.”

“What, did you sleep with the lotto girl?” Nelson joked.

Emrys shook his head, his smile genuine now. “Something even better.”

“What are we talking here?” Donald asked. “Weapons? Bioweapons? Drones? Software?”

“I’ve discovered the means of creating what every nation and rebel army on the planet wants: the ultimate supersoldier.”

Donald snorted. “Shit. We already have supersoldiers: men who don’t give a rat’s ass who they kill as long as they get paid to do it. It doesn’t get any better than that.”

“Oh, but it does.” Leaning forward, Emrys planted his elbows on his desk. “I’m not talking about psychological supersoldiers. I’m talking about physical supersoldiers. An army of men who are faster and stronger than anyone else on the planet. Men who can heal from any wound inflicted upon them in minutes. An army of men who will spark bidding wars throughout the world, because everyone is going to want them on their side.”

He had their interest now. Again the two shared a look, this one both dubious and intrigued.

Nelson spoke. “If you’re talking about steroids or—”

“Steroids don’t make you heal spontaneously when shot. They don’t enable you to see in the dark without night vision goggles either.”

“What the hell does?”

“Before I show you, I want to know one thing: If I can deliver what I promise, I want our companies to merge. I have the product. You have the capital and the connections.”

Nelson opened his mouth.

Donald placed a hand on his arm. “If you can deliver what you’ve described . . . we’ll get you the money you need. It will be a joint venture.”

“We have a verbal agreement then?”

“We do.”

Emrys rose. “Then I suggest you come with me.”

Bastien watched Melanie wolf down the pot pie and felt guilty that he hadn’t offered her food earlier. “I’m sorry.” He took another bite of the tasty dish.

Sheldon hadn’t lied. The shit was good. Richart was an excellent cook.

What was it with the Immortal Guardians? Wasn’t there anything they didn’t do well?

“For what?” Melanie asked between bites.

They were ensconced in Richart’s cozy dining room. Melanie sat at the head of the table, which was about half the length of David’s, with Bastien on her left.

“I didn’t think to ask if you had dined before you went hunting with Richart and I.”

She waved her fork. “Don’t worry about it. To be honest, I forgot. I do that sometimes.” She sipped her tea. “I get busy, get distracted, go hours without looking at the clock, and just forget to eat.”

“And today was busier and more distracting than most, I would imagine.”

She laughed. “Yes, it was.” She scooped a small brown square onto her fork. “If this pot pie doesn’t contain meat, what do you suppose these little things are?”

He smiled. She must not be a health food nut like the immortals. “Tofu.”

Her face lit with surprise. “This is tofu?”

He nodded.

“I thought tofu tasted like feet. This is delicious.”

He laughed. “I imagine anything can taste like feet if it isn’t seasoned properly.” He sipped his own tea, took another bite of pot pie, and watched her do the same.

When was the last time he had shared a meal with a woman?

As best as he could recall, he had not done so since his transformation. Everything after that had been about survival and avenging his sister Cat’s death.

And helping his fellow vampires.

Inwardly he cursed. He’d been with the immortals for almost two years now and still thought of himself as a vampire on most days.

Melanie grinned. “Which is why I’ve never invited you to dinner. I can’t cook worth a crap.”

As Bastien took another drink, he studied her over the rim of his glass. “You considered asking me to dinner?” He lowered the glass to the table. “Before . . . all of this, I mean?”

She nodded and moved the vegetables around with her fork, eyes on her plate. “I liked talking with you when you came to visit Cliff and Joe.”

He had, too. And, though it shamed him to admit it, he had looked forward to seeing Melanie more than his friends. And not just because she was prettier. “I enjoyed it, too.”

She looked up with a smile. “I probably would have gotten up the nerve to ask you out eventually. I assume you guys are allowed to date?”

Were they? “Richart does.”

She nodded. “And tonight he saved me from having to comb the Internet for a recipe I could actually follow that might satisfy you.”

He smiled. “Cheese and crackers would satisfy me as long as you were my dining companion.”

Melanie reached over and rested a hand on his forearm. “That’s so sweet.”

Bastien took her hand in his and stroked her fingers. “If you say that in front of the immortals, they’ll swear you’re delusional.”

She shrugged. “That’s just because they don’t know you like I do.”

If she thought him sweet, then she didn’t know him as well as they did. And part of him hoped she never would. He didn’t want her to see that side of him.

“Should we consider this a date then?” he teased.

She smiled. “The first of many, I hope.”

Hope had long since abandoned Bastien. “I can’t resist asking . . . how am I doing?”

She squeezed his hand. “Very well. I freely admit I’m smitten. Isn’t that a word someone from your era would use?”

“It is.” And he was beyond smitten.

They tucked into their meal again, hands still clasped.

“I’m curious about something,” he said after awhile, almost afraid to break the silence it was so pleasant.

She raised her brows in question.

“How did you come to work for the network? I’ve never learned how exactly they go about recruiting members.”

“They didn’t so much recruit me as find me,” she said. “My freshman year in college, my roommate was killed in our dorm room.”

Considering how prevalent violence was in society, he didn’t know why that surprised him as much as it did. “I’m sorry. Were you harmed?”

“No. It happened while I was out cramming with my study group. I found her body when I returned to our room.”

“Were you close?”

“Not really. She pretty much annoyed the crap out of me, always blasting music and bringing guys over to screw while I was trying to study my ass off so I could keep my academic scholarship. I was the nerd to her party girl, I guess you could say. She had moments when she wasn’t the worst roommate in the world. Not nearly as many as I would’ve liked, but . . .” She shook her head. “Irritating or not, I would never have wished that on her.”

“Of course not.”

“Usually the cops look first at the boyfriend, but she hadn’t been seeing any one guy exclusively. MPDC ruled me out quickly because everyone in my study group alibied me. Detectives asked me to submit a DNA sample, though, so they could run it against the DNA the crime scene unit collected, exclude me and Dana, and see what they were left with. When I did, all hell broke loose. They said there was something up with my DNA, that they had found something in it that didn’t make sense or didn’t belong.”

Bastien tightened his hold on her hand. “Are you a gifted one, Melanie?”

She nodded. “They wanted me to go to the hospital so they could run some tests. I was freaking out, thinking I had some sort of incurable genetic disease or something.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Then two men showed up and introduced themselves as Chris Reordon and Seth. All of the medical personnel got these weird blank looks on their faces, turned, and filed out of the room.”

“Seth erased their memory of you?”

“Yes. And Mr. Reordon took care of the physical evidence, both that collected by the police and any mention of it in their computers. I still don’t know how he did that.”

“He may be an asshole, but I’ve heard he can work wonders.”

“He did. They explained what I was, why I was different and, when I mentioned I was interested in studying medicine, Mr. Reordon asked me if I’d like a job. I said, hell yes. The network took over paying my college tuition and . . . the rest is history.”

Bastien wondered if Chris’s knowing her so long would be a plus or a minus now that she wished to pursue her attraction to him. Would Chris feel betrayed and be all the more pissed? Or would he be less inclined to extend his distrust of Bastien to include her?

“What is your gift?” he asked curiously. He hadn’t noticed anything during the time they had spent together.

She wrinkled her nose. “Precognition that’s really too weak to benefit me. Sometimes I know the phone is going to ring before it rings. Or that a package will be delivered. Or just when and where to swing a bar stool to break up a fight between a hardheaded immortal and his vampire friend.”

He smiled. No wonder she was so good at anticipating vampires’ moves.

“Sometimes I’ll get an . . . uneasy feeling . . . when something bad is about to happen. I felt it the night my parents were killed in an accident. I felt it the day Vincent had his last break. I felt it the night Dana was killed.”

He mulled that over while he finished the last few bites of pot pie. The younger the immortal, the weaker his or her gift. Seth said it was a result of the gifted ones’ bloodline being diluted many times over with that of ordinary humans. Sarah hadn’t even realized she had a gift, which was actually a little bit similar to Melanie’s. Sarah’s dreams were prophetic, just not literally so. According to what he’d heard at David’s, there were always symbols that needed to be deciphered. If, say, she and Roland were about to face a life and death situation, Sarah didn’t see it unfold in her dreams as it would happen in the days that followed. Instead she dreamed about tornadoes or some shit.

“Did you feel any uneasiness before we went hunting tonight?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought it was nerves. And concern. I was worried about you and excited about spending time with you and nervous about hunting vampires for the first time . . .”

He was such an ass. Melanie had an internal shit’s-about-to-happen warning system and he was jumping up and down inside because she had been excited about spending time with him.

“I also wasn’t sure how to bring up the whole I’m a gifted one thing,” she continued. “I didn’t want it to seem like . . .” She gave an embarrassed laugh and started to withdraw her hand.

Bastien didn’t let her. “Tell me.” He could feel her reluctance to tell him and wanted to know what was causing the flush to creep up her neck.

She sighed. “I knew you were aware of my attraction to you and didn’t want it to seem like I was . . . I don’t know, trying to make myself seem more appealing to you, like I was saying, ‘Hey, you should totally date me because I can be transformed,’ or something.”

That’s right. She could be transformed. If he actually thought she could fall in love with him and that she could do so without facing pretty damned dismal consequences, he would be bouncing off the walls right now.

“Have you . . . thought about being transformed?” Subtle.

She nodded. “Down the line sometime. I’m not really ready to give up the sun.” She smiled ruefully. “Or my favorite foods. That sounds pathetic, I know, but there you have it. I know all of you immortals only eat organic, and most of my favorite foods and snacks are anything but.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this, but those favorite foods won’t taste the same to you after your transformation.”

She frowned. “They won’t? Why?”

He motioned to his nose and his eyes. “Our sense of smell and our vision aren’t the only senses that were heightened during our transformation. Our sense of taste was, too.”

Cool. “Then my favorite foods will be even yummier.”

“A hundred years ago, I would’ve said yes. But now . . . We can taste every individual ingredient.” He nodded at the pot pie. “I can taste every spice and every vegetable in this pie and tell you in what proportions they were used.”

Melanie may not be able to judge the proportions, but she could taste many of those flavors, too. “And . . . ?”

He gave her an apologetic smile. “And I can taste the difference between vanilla and synthetic vanillin. Or the difference between an organic chocolate bar made with seventy-three percent cacao and one of the chocolate bars I’ve seen you eat that contains twenty-five percent cacao and makes up the difference with vegetable oil and artificial flavoring. It’s as obvious as the difference in taste between turkey and tofurky would be to you.”

Melanie stared at him. “Are you telling me that all of my favorite foods are going to taste like crap after I’m transformed?”

“Not the organic ones.”

“I don’t eat organic!”

He motioned to the pie. “That’s organic. You like the taste of that, don’t you?”

“Yes, but . . .” Crestfallen, she said, “That sucks.”

“Not as much as you might think. I heard Sarah say making the switch isn’t as hard today as it would’ve been forty years ago because there’s an organic version of most of her favorite snacks. And, on the up side, you gain near immortality and never age or get sick again.”

“Which is why I’ll probably ask to be transformed at some point in the future. Just not now.” She winked. “I like junk food too much.”

He laughed.

Squeezing his hand, she sobered. “Listen. Since we’re spending more time together, and considering my near-death experience earlier, I feel like I should tell you that if something should happen to me—”

“It won’t. I won’t let it.”

Lowering her fork, she covered their clasped hands. “Let me finish.”

He nodded, silently vowing to do everything he could to keep her out of danger in the future.

“If anything should happen to me, if I’m fatally wounded and the network can’t save me and no immortal healers can be reached, I want to be transformed.”

Her trust and her confidence that he would see that her wishes were carried out flowed into him via his gift, making his heart pound. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” Her lips tilted up in a small smile. “I may love junk food, but I don’t love it enough that I think life isn’t worth living without it. And I can still enjoy the sun from a distance. I may not be able to go out and frolic in it—”

He smiled, enjoying the image her words evoked.

“—but I can leave the blinds and curtains open as long as I don’t sit directly in the sunbeams.”

He nodded and squeezed her hand. “As you wish.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m honored that you’ve chosen to confide in me.”

For some reason that pleased her, which pleased him.

When Melanie leaned toward him, he met her halfway for a tender kiss.

“Are you kidding me?”

Melanie jumped at the sound of Richart’s irate voice.

Bastien swore silently. That was the bad thing about teleporters. You couldn’t anticipate their arrival because there was no approach to hear.

“I’m busting my ass trying to keep Chris from figuratively hanging you—he would do it literally if it were possible—and you’re here having a romantic dinner for two?” Sighing, Richart raked a hand through his hair, drew out a chair, and sat down. “Hell, I don’t blame you. Is there any pot pie left?”

“I don’t know,” Bastien said. “Sheldon prepared it.”

Richart let out a piercing whistle.

A thud sounded somewhere deep in the house. “Damn it! Don’t do that!” Sheldon shouted. “You scared the crap out of me!”

Richart grinned. “I love Seconds.”

Melanie laughed.

Even Bastien had to smile as Sheldon stomped into the room, rubbing one elbow. “Dude, the next time you invite Satan to dinner, give me a little warning first.”

Bastien flipped him off.

Richart looked up at his Second. “Is there any pot pie left?”

“Yeah. You want me to heat you up some? You look beat.”

“Wrap it up and I’ll take it with me. We’re expected at David’s. I can heat and eat it there.”

“Sure thing.” Sheldon headed into the kitchen.

“No luck swaying Reordon?” Bastien asked.

Richart shook his head. “As I said, he would hang you if he could. Or at least kick your ass. In fact, I think if the man were a gifted one, he would ask to be transformed just so he could kick your ass.”

Melanie patted Bastien’s hand, her sympathy with him.

Damn, that felt good. And how odd was it that Richart’s sympathy seemed to be with him, too?

“You aren’t going soft on me, are you?” Bastien asked.

“Hell, no. I just have more important things on my mind than mocking you.”

Melanie’s brow furrowed. “Jenna isn’t feeling any better?”

Richart straightened in his chair, his countenance darkening. “Where did you hear that name?”

Bastien released Melanie’s hand and leaned forward, resting an arm across the table in front of her in a gesture meant to remind Richart he would have a fight on his hands if he threatened Melanie in any way. “Watch your tone.”

Melanie didn’t appear worried. “Sheldon let it slip.”

Richart swore and rolled his eyes. “The boy is entertaining but sometimes can be a real pain in the ass.”

Sheldon walked back in, carrying a cloth lunch bag Bastien assumed was full of Richart’s meal. “Says you,” he retorted and winked at Melanie.

Bastien bristled. Damn it. Why was every man on the planet suddenly flirting with her?

Richart took the lunch bag and gave his Second a reproving glare.

“What?” Sheldon said. “It was an honest mistake. A tall guy with black hair, your build, and dressed like you was shoving his tongue down a woman’s throat in our living room. I drew the obvious conclusion.”

Sighing, Richart transferred his attention to Bastien and nodded toward Melanie. “You know this isn’t going to go over well, right?

“Such has occurred to me, yes. As long as the fallout only falls on me, I can handle it.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Bastien gave him a tight smile. “Then I’ll handle it in a whole different manner.”

Melanie sighed. “Don’t encourage him, Richart.” She rose. “And both of you need to remember one thing: I’m a grown woman and can take care of myself. If someone has a problem with my feelings for Bastien and thinks I shouldn’t get involved with him because they don’t like him, they can kiss my merry mortal ass.”

Sheldon burst out laughing, moved forward, and held up a hand.

Melanie high-fived him and gave Bastien a truly appealing so-there look. “Now, I believe Richart mentioned something about us being expected at David’s.”

They opted to drive to David’s. Richart had teleported so many times in recent hours that he said his batteries were running low, which Melanie took to mean he would have to consume more blood if he kept it up.

His was a fascinating gift.

Richart took the wheel with Sheldon in the passenger seat that Melanie had refused so she could sit in the back with Bastien.

Both immortals seemed preoccupied.

Melanie leaned against Bastien and toyed with one of his hands while Sheldon bobbed his head to Skillet.

It was a nice drive. Melanie had been raised in the city. The apartment had been small and cramped. No yard. No fresh air. Constant noise. When she had moved to North Carolina, she had had to sleep with the television on every night because she was so unaccustomed to the quiet.

She loved it here now, though. Sure it sucked that Walmart and gas stations were about the only things open past midnight. But the fresh air . . . the clear skies so full of stars . . . the scenery . . .

As if on cue, the headlights illuminated two deer grazing by the side of the road.

Bastien draped an arm around her.

She looked up and found him smiling down at her.

“I like this moment in time,” she said.

“So do I,” he admitted, curling his fingers around hers where she played with them.

Richart turned onto the long drive to David’s home, pulled up behind a shiny black Prius parked at the end of it, and cut the engine. Skillet stopped midsentence.

Melanie didn’t want to go in. Chris was probably already inside ranting and calling for Bastien’s head on a platter, and she really didn’t have the patience for it tonight.

Bastien and Richart must not want to go in either, because neither immortal moved. They did, however, share a weighty look in the rearview mirror.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s too quiet,” Bastien said.

Richart nodded.

All cocky kid-itude drained from Sheldon, who drew two 10mms. “Out here or in there?”

Richart nodded at the house. “In there.”

A buzz sounded as someone’s cell phone vibrated. Bastien leaned forward and drew his phone from a back pocket. He looked at the screen. His brows drew down.

Altering the angle of the phone, he showed Melanie the text from Darnell:

Come in, sit down, and keep your mouth shut.

You do NOT want to piss David off tonight.

Had something happened to upset David? Or was he beginning to tire of championing Bastien when Bastien did so little to ingratiate himself with the other immortals?

Melanie hoped it wasn’t the latter.

Bastien held up the phone for Richart and Sheldon to see. Richart’s face showed no expression when he met Bastien’s gaze. Sheldon looked nervous as hell.

Melanie didn’t know what to expect when the four of them exited the car and entered the home.

Inside was a replay of the last meeting she had attended with all of the same players at the table, except . . . no one spoke.

At the head of the table, David reclined in his chair, his weight leaning on the right elbow he’d propped on the table. His dark, handsome face was set in stone. Unlike the others, whose appearances showed the effects of a night of hunting, his black, long-sleeved shirt was clean and dry, his beautiful dreadlocks neatly confined in a thick ponytail that fell beyond the seat of his chair.

Darnell sat to one side of him, his eyes and face reinforcing his command to sit down and shut up.

Everyone remained utterly silent as Melanie, Bastien, Richart (who had opted to leave his dinner in the car), and Sheldon approached the table and took the four empty seats beside Étienne.

Seth’s chair remained unoccupied.

Darnell took out his cell phone, moved his thumb across it, then put it back in his pocket.

“Mack the Knife” began to play.

Across from Melanie, Sarah drew out her cell phone and held it to her ear. “Hello? . . . Okay. Thanks.”

Seth appeared before Sarah finished putting her phone away.

Melanie thought it sweet of him to warn her each time he teleported.

Seth nodded to all present, started for his seat, then paused. His gaze traveled around the table, then zeroed in on David. “What happened?”

David hesitated. “I took out one of the groups blocking UN aid workers from bringing food to the Somalians.”

David had been in Somalia earlier? There must be another immortal who could teleport somewhere on the planet.

“Good job. Anyone help you?”

“No.”

Seth studied him closely. “And?”

David scowled. “I lost my damn arm.”

Melanie’s mouth fell open as her gaze went to his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Plural.

Frowning, Seth crossed to David’s side. “The left?”

“Yes.”

“You reattached it?”

David’s jaw worked. “Mostly. A lot of damage was done by the explosion that took it.”

It may seem morbid, but Melanie wished heartily that she could have witnessed that. Not the explosion, of course. But the reattachment. She would love to know how such could be accomplished with just his gift and his hand.

David’s warm brown eyes met hers. “Maybe next time.”

Horrified that he had read her thoughts, she felt heat rush into her face.

No need to fret, his voice spoke kindly in her mind. I know your reasons. And there are many in this room who aren’t physicians, but have the same curiosity.

Thank you. I’m so sorry you were injured.

He nodded.

Seth wrapped his long fingers around David’s left wrist and lifted the arm to shoulder’s height.

A muscle jumped in David’s cheek as he grunted and stiffened. His eyes flashed amber.

Seth touched David’s shoulder with his other hand, which—beneath Melanie’s fascinated gaze—began to glow. Down the arm Seth trailed his hand, his touch gentle.

David’s breath soughed out in a relieved sigh. The tightness left his face. The tension that had wrapped those present in a cocoon of discomfort eased.

The pain David had inadvertently been broadcasting had felt to Melanie and the others like displeasure.

The glow faded from Seth’s hand as he removed it. “Better?”

David rotated his arm experimentally. “Much. Thank you.”

Seth patted his shoulder, then strode down the table to take his seat.

Roland cleared his throat. “I could have helped you with that.”

David shook his head. “You’re still healing from the wounds you incurred while hunting vampires, then healing Dr. Lipton.”

Sarah’s head snapped around. “You said you were fine.”

Roland shifted. “I am fine . . . for the most part.”

“You can’t do that, Roland.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared up at him. “Am I going to have to start strip searching you to check for wounds every night, or will you tell me the truth from now on?”

“I would prefer the first option.”

Chuckles rounded the table.

Sarah punched Roland hard in the shoulder.

“Ow! That hurts a lot more now that you’re immortal, you know.”

Her lips twitched. “I know.”

Seth took his seat. “All right. Let’s get this over with. Darnell told me you’re pissed about something, Chris. I assume whatever it is involves Bastien. But before we get to that . . .” He glanced at each of the immortals present. “Any vampire recruitments yet?”

Heads shook.

Bastien leaned forward. “I may have succeeded in recruiting one. I was supposed to have met him tonight, but forgot when Dr. Lipton was injured. I’ll see if he shows tomorrow.”

“Good work. Make sure Richart accompanies you in case the vamps plan another ambush.” He held up a hand when Chris opened his mouth. “Dr. Lipton, I’m sorry you were injured tonight. I trust your presence here means you are well now?”

“Yes. Roland healed me.” She met Roland’s gaze. “Thank you.”

He gave a short nod. “You’re welcome.”

Sarah smiled and leaned into him.

“You weren’t bitten, were you?” Seth went on.

“No. One of Emrys’s men shot me.”

“Three times,” Bastien added, voice tight. “And there were two shooters. They waited until they saw us destroy the vamps we were hunting, then zeroed in on Melanie in the aftermath.”

Yuri and Stanislov swore.

Richart leaned forward. “There were thirty-six total concealed on the campus. On the rooftops. In alcoves. Behind bushes. We were there for some time before the vamps arrived, and the soldiers did nothing to give away their presence.”

Yuri grunted. “They were armed with the drug?”

“Yes.”

“How many were you able to capture?”

Richart glanced at Bastien. “None.”

Here it comes, Melanie thought.

Chris leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Bastien killed them all.”

“Where were you?” Yuri asked Richart. “I thought the two of you hunted together. Did you aid him?”

Richart shook his head. “Dr. Lipton’s wounds were fatal. I teleported her here to see if David was present, then to the network so the doctors could work on her until I could locate Roland.”

“Roland,” Seth said, “Take Richart to your home first thing tomorrow night. I won’t have someone dying because he doesn’t know where you live.”

Roland gave an abrupt nod.

Stanlislov eyed Bastien. “So while Richart took Dr. Lipton to safety, you killed all of the soldiers?”

“All of them,” Bastien confirmed. “When they shot Dr. Lipton, they weren’t shooting to wound. They were shooting to kill. Any of them who saw us fight the vampires knew she was neither immortal nor vampire, but they shot to kill anyway. The bastards deserved to die.”

Looks were exchanged all around.

Étienne cleared his throat. “I have no problem with that.”

“Nor I,” Lisette added.

“Nor I,” Richart said.

“Seriously?” Chris demanded. “We needed the intel those men could have provided. Marcus, you more than anyone ought to understand how important it is that we find and destroy Emrys. Any one of those men could have helped us accomplish that.”

Marcus’s brow furrowed. “I understand your anger, Bastien. But there are others you should have taken into consideration. Emrys will do anything to get his hands on Ami. And tonight we had a real opportunity to obtain the information we need to locate him and end this once and for all.”

Bastien swore. “You’re right. I fucked up. I’m sorry, Ami.”

“It’s okay, Sebastien.”

“No, it isn’t,” Marcus countered.

“He’s right,” Bastien agreed. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“You never think,” Chris accused.

When no one came to Bastien’s defense, Melanie said, “He was thinking when he devised the plan to enlist vampires’ aid in defeating Emrys. He was thinking when he came damned close to recruiting a vampire just hours later.”

Bastien squeezed her arm under the table. A warning not to speak up for him? Well, screw that.

Chris raised his eyebrows. “We don’t even know if that vampire is trustworthy. He could arrange an ambush. Or run scared. Or offer to help and prove no aid at all because he’s too deranged. Those soldiers, on the other hand, we know could have helped us. They have to report to some commanding officer. Any one of the telepaths here could have withdrawn that information from their minds and we would have known the location of Emrys’s outfit and possibly Emrys himself.”

“And any one of those soldiers could have drugged Bastien while he was disabling and restraining the one or two or ten men that would have satisfied you,” Melanie again defended Bastien, who squeezed the hell out of her hand. “We had no idea they were there until they shot me.”

“If he had time to kill them, he had time to knock them out,” Chris maintained.

“I agree,” Marcus said.

Seth turned to Bastien. “He has a point. Next time maim and disarm them. Don’t kill them.”

Bastien nodded, face grim.

Melanie felt guilty because he wouldn’t be in this position if she hadn’t been shot. And he looked as if he were mentally kicking himself in the ass.

“I think Bastien should be removed from duty,” Chris announced. “I don’t think he should be allowed to hunt anymore. And I want him banned from network premises forthwith.”

The pronouncement spawned many looks of surprise, but no protests.

Melanie’s temper roused. “You can’t do that. Cliff and Joe need him.”

“He should have thought of that before he plowed through my men again.”

Seth groaned. “Damn it, Sebastien. What did you do this time?”

“They wouldn’t let me see Dr. Lipton,” Bastien bit out. “And if Richart hadn’t come to my defense, Chris would have had me chained up in the holding room as soon as we arrived at the network.”

Melanie gaped at Chris. “You tried to chain him up again?”

“Yes,” he said unrepentantly.

“For what?”

“He killed all of those human soldiers in a fit of rage. I wasn’t going to take the chance that he would harm my men.”

Stanislov looked around. “I don’t see how one action would necessarily follow the other.”

Richart nodded. “I objected. I thought Chris overreacted.”

Melanie looked around the table. “Okay. Maybe everyone else here already knows the answer to this or maybe they’re just too polite to ask. Or maybe they just don’t give a damn. But I have to know . . .” She returned her gaze to Chris. “Why do you have such a bug up your butt about Sebastien?”

A few of the immortals—namely the French immortals—coughed to cover laughs.

Bastien’s head jerked around. “Melanie—”

“No. I want to know.”

Chris’s brows drew down. “Melanie?” he repeated, catching Bastien’s more casual address.

“Well?” she persisted. “Why do you dislike him so much? I understand why Roland, Sarah, and Marcus do. Bastien tried to kill them. And I know why they do.” She motioned to the other immortals present. “They’re pissed because he killed their friend Ewen.” She paused. “And, by the way, while you’re busy hating and condemning him for that, you might ask yourselves why David and Seth aren’t. They’re the wisest men in this room and neither one of them seem to have a problem with Bastien.”

Seth held up a finger.

“Except for his mouth,” she amended.

Seth smiled and dropped his hand. “Thank you.”

“I mean, did it ever occur to any of you that there might be a reason for that? That maybe Bastien killed Ewen in self-defense? That maybe Ewen mistook Bastien for a vampire and attacked him, leaving him no choice but to fight to the death?”

“How did you know that?” Bastien demanded and looked at Seth. “Did you tell her that? I told you to stay out of my head.”

“I didn’t tell her.”

Again Bastien asked Melanie, “How did you know that?”

She shrugged. “What other reason would you have to kill him?”

“Because Bastien’s a prick?” Roland suggested.

Melanie rolled her eyes. “You’re biased.”

“And you aren’t?” he posed.

Étienne’s eyes widened. “Merde. It’s true. Ewen attacked him.”

Marcus straightened. “Bastien must have given him reason.”

“He was draining a woman,” Lisette said.

“Stay out of my head,” Bastien growled at the French siblings.

“Then Ewen was in the right,” Marcus proclaimed.

Chris nodded. “He can’t be trusted.”

“Bullshit!” Tanner blurted. “Bastien doesn’t kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“His vampire followers did,” Chris said.

“Vince, Cliff, and Joe didn’t,” Melanie denied.

Tanner nodded. “And Bastien had no way of knowing about the ones who did.”

“If he couldn’t control them, he should have killed them.”

“You’re just pissed because he managed to get past you and all of your men and kidnap Sarah, taking her right out from under your noses.”

Heavy silence took the room.

Really? Was that it? Was that the bug, so to speak?

Melanie studied Chris’s reddening face and decided, yes, that was definitely the bug.

“Actually,” Bastien said slowly, “he’s pissed because, while I stole Sarah right out from under his nose, I broke that nose and shattered several bones in his face, knocking him unconscious before he could get off a single shot or give a shout out to warn the rest of his men.”

Ooh. That was . . . That was not good.

Chris’s face turned positively purple.

Sarah cleared her throat. “If it helps, I didn’t see Bastien coming either.”

Darnell grinned. “Yeah, but you managed to shoot him twice and stab him in the ass.”

Laughter erupted.

Seth held his hands up. “All right. All right. Settle down. We’re all glad Sarah stabbed Bastien in the ass.”

More chuckles.

“Chris,” Seth commanded, “you’re just going to have to get over Bastien hitting you in the face, because it’s interfering in your work. Follow Sarah’s example and move on. As for the network . . . tell your men to give Bastien some space and he’ll stop kicking their asses. I want Cliff and Joe to continue to have access to him. They’re doing us a favor and pretty much voluntarily incarcerated themselves to do it. They need the break and whatever happiness and contentment he can bring them.”

Though that didn’t go over well, Chris made no objections.

It was Seth. How could one oppose his edicts?

Seth turned to Bastien. “Bastien, I need you to do your part as well. Stop antagonizing everyone and show a little more patience if you run into interference at the network. Instead of injuring the men who work there and who help us, pick up your phone and give me or David a call. If you can’t reach us, call Richart. He wisely teleported you out of there tonight before the situation could escalate. If necessary, he can do so again.”

Bastien nodded.

“David, have you anything to add?”

David said nothing for a moment, his handsome ebony face thoughtful. Melanie had never encountered anyone with such dark skin before. It was beautiful. As flawless as a supermodel’s. Yet somehow remained masculine.

“Everyone here must be mindful of the situation that brought us here tonight,” he said in his deep, honeyed voice. “Though Richart, Bastien, and Dr. Lipton were at UNC for quite some time, they were unaware of the soldiers’ presence until those soldiers made their presence known. I wonder, Chris, if the network might provide the immortals and their Seconds with some kind of thermal imaging binoculars or scopes that would allow them to see the heat signatures of soldiers who may otherwise escape their notice upon initial inspection.”

Chris reached into his jacket and drew out one of his ever-present notebooks and a short, stubby pencil. “Done.”

Melanie had seen him scribbling in similar notebooks so often she wondered if he didn’t have a roomful of them somewhere.

As Chris made notes on the memo pad, he raised his eyes and met Bastien’s. “Would that have helped you tonight?”

Melanie held her breath.

Chris could have asked Richart instead and avoided conversing with his nemesis. Was this a sort of peace offering?

“Before tonight I wouldn’t have thought such necessary,” Bastien replied slowly, “but, yes. Thermal imaging would have revealed at least a few of them. Those who were concealed by shadows and foliage even our eyes couldn’t penetrate.”

Richart nodded. “When I returned to UNC, I was surprised to see just how many had escaped our attention.”

“Good.” Chris made a few more notes. “Something else to have in our arsenal then. I’ll have them in the hands of every immortal and every Second in North Carolina, South Carolina, Virginia, and West Virginia by nightfall tomorrow. We don’t know how much territory these guys are covering.”

Maybe this was a truce. That would be such a relief.

Melanie patted Bastien’s knee under the table.

Bastien caught her hand and held it against his thigh.

“Stay alert,” Seth commanded. “This is the second time they’ve managed to surprise us. Let us ensure it doesn’t happen again.”