Shadows Strike

by Dianne Duvall

  Heat and the scent of blood blasted Zach as he leaned into the SUV.

  He heard Bastien struggle with Melanie somewhere inside the building, trying to keep her from running out into the sunlight after Zach.

  A heartbeat—faint, unsteady—met Zach’s ears. “She’s alive,” he announced, knowing the other immortals would be able to hear him, even over the alarm.

  Melanie began to sob.

  Zach eased Linda onto her back and rested a palm on her bloody stomach. Warmth rose in his chest and flowed down his arm, through his hand, and into Linda’s body. The ugly wound, which would’ve proven fatal had Zach not arrived when he had, closed and healed beneath his touch.

  “I’m bringing her in,” he announced and gently lifted the mortal into his arms. “Meet me in the infirmary.” Easing back out of the SUV, he adjusted his hold on Linda and teleported to the infirmary.

  Bastien and Melanie burst through the doorway.

  “It’s okay,” he told them as he lowered Linda onto the hospital bed next to Cliff’s. “I healed her wounds. If you give her blood and liquids, she should be fine.”

  Taking Linda’s hand in both of her own, Melanie looked up at him with tearstained cheeks. “Thank you, Zach.”

  Bastien stepped up beside her and glowered down at her. “Don’t you ever pull that shit again!” he bellowed.

  “She’s like a sister to me,” Melanie tried to explain.

  “I don’t care if she’s your fucking twin! You don’t rush out into sunlight without donning your protective suit!”

  “It wouldn’t have killed me,” she protested. “It would have just—”

  “Burned you, then blistered you, then barbecued your ass, and would have hurt like hell while it did! It would have felt like your skin was being seared in a frying pan over a high flame. Zach is immune to sunlight and was already handling things. Next time use your fucking head!”

  Melanie stiffened.

  Zach saw the storm rolling in and, for some reason (Lisette’s influence, no doubt) tried to dispel it. “He’s right,” he told Melanie, his own voice calm. “I was handling the situation. The sunlight would’ve harmed you. And it would’ve harmed Bastien far more when he raced after you in an attempt to protect you had you made it outside. You may be fairly newly transformed, but you were transformed by Roland, a nearly millennium-old immortal, and possess his strength. Bastien is only a couple of centuries old. By the time you had begun to pinken with a burn, Bastien would’ve already blistered while trying to protect you.”

  Regret and self-condemnation filled her features as she looked up at her husband. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t think. I just . . . reacted.”

  Sighing, he drew her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry I shouted. I didn’t mean to be harsh, sweetheart. I just can’t bear the thought of you being hurt.” He rested his cheek on her hair and closed his eyes. “And . . .”

  “And you’re worried about Cliff,” she finished for him. “I know. I am, too.” Her face resting on Bastien’s chest, Melanie looked to Zach. “Why would Whetsman shoot Linda? I know they don’t like each other, but—”

  “No one likes Whetsman,” Bastien grumbled, rocking her back and forth in his arms as if he still needed to reassure himself she was unharmed.

  “But trying to kill her . . .”

  Zach eyed them grimly. “Linda caught him smuggling out vials of the sedative.”

  Bastien’s eyes flew open. “What? Why the hell would he do that?”

  Zach shook his head. “I’ll have to dig deeper into his thoughts to find the answer to that and can’t do it without Seth’s permission, because it could cause damage.”

  Melanie gently pried herself from Bastien’s tight hold and started setting up an IV drip for Linda. “Shouldn’t we call Seth?”

  Seth, Zach knew, was busy following a lead, hoping to find Gershom, the Other who plotted against . . . well, the entire world. They’d had so few leads. He didn’t think it wise to interrupt the Immortal Guardians’ leader. “Don’t worry.” Zach nodded to Whetsman. “He won’t be going anywhere soon. Seth can deal with him upon his return.”

  Ethan stared down at Heather. The two stood in her living room, shrouded in silence after Zach had returned and teleported Chris and Lisette away. Ethan couldn’t read Heather’s expression, but thought it somewhere between shell-shocked and just plain weary.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Her eyebrows rose. “For what?”

  He dragged a hand down his face, fatigue sifting through him.

  He should have asked Zach or Chris to bring him some blood. Losing quite a bit had left him weak, even though Zach had healed his wounds. Ethan thought it would be rude to crash out on Heather’s sofa and sink into a deep healing sleep. Plus he would much rather spend time with her while he had the chance. The best thing he could do for her, after all, would be to never see her again after today so she wouldn’t be tempted to take that damned job Chris had offered her and end up getting killed.

  Fucking Chris.

  Ethan knew Chris was just doing what he always did—compiling every possible resource he could to aid immortals in their quest to protect humanity—but Heather was one resource Ethan didn’t want Chris to exploit.

  “Sorry for what?” Heather prodded again.

  “I feel like I dragged you into all of this,” he told her.

  Her expression lightened. “I was the one who camped out in the clearing every morning, hoping I’d see or find something that would explain the dreams. Hoping I’d find you, I guess.”

  Ethan stared at her. “You camped out in the clearing every night?”

  “Only for a half hour or so before dawn, around the time the dreams took place.”

  “Holy hell.” Closing the distance between them, he drew her into a hug.

  “What’s wrong?” She slid her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest.

  “Those vampires were headed straight for you. If I hadn’t driven past when I did and smelled them, they would have found you and . . .” He didn’t even want to think about the atrocities they would have committed as they killed her.

  “Geez. With everything that’s happened, I didn’t even think of that.”

  “Don’t camp out in the clearing anymore unless the sun is up,” he urged her.

  “I thought you said you didn’t think more vampires would follow.”

  He shook his head. “It’s unlikely, but . . .” He sighed. “I have the most absurd urge to ask you to promise me you won’t go out after dark anymore.”

  “Um . . .”

  “I know. It’s totally unreasonable. I just . . .”

  She leaned back to look up at him. “You said your enemies killed Chris’s former contacts. Your enemies were vampires?”

  “No.” With great reluctance, Ethan released his hold on her and coaxed her into sitting beside him on the sofa once more. “They were mercenaries.”

  “Human mercenaries? As in private military companies?”

  “Yes. Not long ago, a small mercenary outfit got their hands on the vampiric virus and thought it would be a great idea to use it to create an army of supersoldiers they could hire out to the highest bidder.”

  She mulled that over silently while she twisted to face him on the sofa, curling her legs up on the cushions so her knees brushed his hip. “That army would be worth a fortune.”

  “Yes, it would.”

  “If it weren’t for the madness that would infect the soldiers, my dad would be interested in contracting that army.”

  “I’m sure he would. But the leaders of the mercenary group didn’t care that their soldiers would be driven insane. They considered them all expendable and intended to kill them off after a year, then rotate in new recruits.”

  “Wow. What total assholes.”

  He laughed. “Very much so. Long story short, the smaller mercenary group’s actions led to a larger mercenary group procuring the virus and . . . well . . .
Have you ever heard of Shadow River?”

  “Yes. My dad mentioned them several times. They were a very elite private military group that was slated to receive some hefty government contracts until a group of their own men . . . blew up . . .” Her eyes widened. “Holy crap! That was you?” she asked incredulously. “You blew up their entire compound?”

  “I, my immortal brethren, and Chris’s network soldiers blew it up.”

  “It was, like, four or five thousand acres!”

  “Yes.”

  “Every structure was leveled!”

  “Yes.”

  “The casualty list was—”

  “I know.”

  Sliding her legs off the cushions, she placed some distance between them. Her look turned uneasy. “That’s a lot of dead men, Ethan. A lot of dead humans.”

  “Dead humans and dead vampires,” he corrected.

  “What?”

  “Shadow River infected a third of their soldiers with the virus.”

  Her lips parted.

  “The vampire mercenaries alternated their time between training for battle, preying upon humans, and hunting Immortal Guardians.”

  “Why would they hunt you?”

  “The higher-ups at Shadow River knew they would have to kill off their soldiers a year after infecting them in order to avoid the soldiers descending into madness. An uncontrollable army, after all, is of no use to anyone.”

  She nodded.

  “When the mercenary leaders discovered that immortals don’t suffer the insanity vampires do, they wanted to get their hands on a few of us so they could study us, dissect us, and determine the whys of it.”

  “They didn’t know about your DNA?”

  “No. They just knew we were different.”

  She remained quiet for a long time. “The slaughter at that compound was all my dad—and everyone else I encountered who was either military or law enforcement—talked about for weeks.”

  “We couldn’t afford to leave any survivors. Doing so in the past came back and burned us in a bad way.”

  “But there were survivors. A dozen men—”

  “Those were Chris’s men, posing as mercenaries. And there were losses on both sides, Heather. Chris lost men. Dozens were wounded. And we lost two of my immortal brethren.”

  Silence enveloped them.

  “Do you fear me now?” he asked hesitantly.

  “No.” The inflection in her voice told him nothing.

  “What are you thinking? I can’t tell if you’re angry or uneasy or . . .”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m feeling right now. I’m a military brat. So it’s hard for me to hear about soldiers being slain in such numbers.”

  “Those men weren’t military.”

  “But they still probably had families.”

  “They didn’t. Shadow River was very selective when it came to recruiting soldiers. They knew they would eventually kill every man they infected with the virus, so they couldn’t afford for the soldiers to leave behind family members who might ask questions, file wrongful death lawsuits, or bring unwanted media attention to the program. And, if it helps, Lisette and the other telepaths read the minds of many of the mercenaries and said those men would’ve sold their own daughters, if they’d had any, for a profit. They were not honorable men. They were in it for money, not country. They would have fought for whatever government or terrorist organization offered them the highest pay, even if it meant killing their own countrymen.”

  A couple more minutes of tense silence ticked away as Ethan waited for her to respond.

  “I know I already asked this,” Heather said finally, “but I feel the need to do it again. Are there any other revelations you’d care to make while I’m sitting down?”

  He fought a smile, relieved that she still seemed to feel no malice toward him. “I think that’s enough for today.”

  “Good. This is all a little hard to take in. I mean, the whole vampires-being-real thing was big enough. Immortals, and gifted ones, and Shadow River thrown on top of that kinda has things teetering toward being too much for me, at least for now.”

  “I imagine so. I apologize for hitting you with all of this at once. I’m just concerned for your safety.”

  “At least I understand now why you were so pissed at Chris for offering me the job.”

  “You aren’t going to take it, are you?” He really didn’t want her to take it. Lisette had been right. The enemy they faced now was more dangerous than all of the enemies they had faced in the past combined simply because they had no way of knowing when or how he would strike next. Gershom was as old and powerful as Seth and Zach and, for whatever reason, was bent on triggering fucking Armageddon.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m feeling a little brain dead right now and can’t think about it, but,” she added when he opened his mouth to again try to dissuade her, “your objections and concerns for my safety will play a role in my decision when I make it.”

  He supposed he couldn’t hope for more than that.

  “You look beat,” she said, her lips curling up in a sympathetic smile.

  He sighed. “I am.”

  “Me too. I think all of the adrenaline and fear and everything else has just sucked the energy right out of me. Would you like to try to get some sleep?”

  His pulse leapt as images of lying beside Heather filled his mind . . . of turning toward her in bed, pulling her to him, and—

  “Your eyes are glowing again,” she whispered.

  He swore and brought a hand to them as if he could rub the damned luminescence out of them. “I’m sorry. I had a fleeting image of lying in bed with you and . . .”

  “Oh.” Her tone reflected surprise and he couldn’t decide what else.

  “I know. But I promise I’m not a total degenerate. I’m just tired and seem to have no control over my body when I’m around you.” Lowering his hand, he forced himself to meet her gaze and almost did a double take.

  A wide smile brightened her features. “That is so cool.”

  He arched a brow. “What is?”

  “I don’t have to guess if you’re attracted to me because it’s all right there in your eyes. And I don’t mean in a corny chick-flick kind of way. But in a Bam! in-your-face kind of way. It’s like a sexual barometer or a mood ring.”

  He laughed. “Well, it’s not so cool from my perspective, because I can’t hide it. You, on the other hand, can, so I have no idea what you think of me.”

  Her smile softened as she studied him. “I’m attracted to you, too, Ethan. But I’m annoyingly old-fashioned and don’t take sex as casually as most of my peers do. Feel free to blame my grandparents. I spent a lot of time around them when I was growing up.”

  “I’m a century older than you, or thereabouts, so you can’t be more old-fashioned than I am.” He grimaced. “Hell. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned my age, should I?”

  “Relax. You don’t look a day over sixty.”

  Sixty!

  She burst into laughter and patted his knee. “I’m just kidding. You know you’re hot.”

  Ethan groaned. “You’re evil.”

  “And you’re tired. Why don’t you sleep for a bit. I signed the confidentiality agreement, so you don’t have to worry about me trying to sneak pictures of your fangs or calling all the news outlets while you rest.”

  Smiling, he shook his head. “And what will you do while I sleep?”

  “Find a permanent marker and draw a mustache and bushy eyebrows on your face.”

  He laughed. “I really like you, Heather.”

  “I like you, too. So . . . get some sleep. The bedroom is through there.”

  “What will you do while I rest?”

  “Unless I’m called in to observe an interrogation, I’ll just read a book. Watch TV.” She winked. “Paint my toenails.”

  “Damn, I hate to miss watching you paint your toenails.”

  She laughed.

  “May I crash h
ere on the sofa beside you?” For some reason, he just wanted to be near her. Perhaps because he knew he would have no excuse to remain with her or to even see her again once the rain began to fall tonight.

  She grinned. “Yes, you may crash on my sofa.”

  Smiling, Ethan tugged off his boots and propped his big feet on her coffee table. Slouching down on the soft cushions, he folded his hands on his stomach and closed his eyes.

  The sound of her heartbeat soothed him as her scent followed him into dreams.

  Chapter Six

  “Stupid weathermen,” Heather muttered. Her gaze shifted from the television screen to the large immortal warrior who slumbered on her sofa.

  Ethan had slept deeply all day while she had puttered around the house, trying to stay busy so she wouldn’t just sit and stare at him.

  He was incredibly handsome, with all of the heavy muscle of a cover model, but none of the soft pretty-boyishness. Perhaps it was the dark beard stubble that lent him a rugged air. Or maybe the strong, angular jaw.

  She had caught up on all of the household chores she abhorred, had showered and changed, then had finally given up on trying to ignore Ethan a couple of hours ago and had reclaimed her seat beside him.

  He hadn’t changed positions all day until then. She had wondered if something might be wrong, how someone with exceptionally keen hearing could sleep through all of the racket she had made washing dishes, slamming the stubborn dryer’s door, or blow-drying her hair.

  But as soon as she had sat next to him, he had shifted. Drawing his legs up onto the cushions, he had curled up beside her and lowered his head to her lap, the back of his head resting against her belly. While she had stared down at him, unsure where to put her hands, he had snuggled closer and draped an arm across her legs, curling one hand over her hip.

  Of course her heart had begun to pound like a sledgehammer. But his eyes had never opened. So she had reached for the nearby universal remote, turned the television on, and channel surfed while she gave in to temptation and combed her fingers through his short locks.

  His hair smelled like her lavender-scented shampoo and was so soft.