by Chris Lange
Oh, yeah. With the commotion ruling her veins, she almost forgot Andrew saw God every time he looked at her father. Just like Garrett. What was it with the Burnes men? Were they brainwashed as children to admire lying, deceiving scientists? Did they get their asses whipped until the notion took root in their minds?
“Sure, Andrew. Dad would be thrilled to hear that.”
Whether he perceived her sarcasm or not, he kept the feeling to himself while leading her toward the back door, his fingers light around her elbow. He only squeezed her arm a little when they stepped outside.
“If you don’t mind my asking, Tracy, why are we behaving as common thieves and leaving the manor in secret?”
Gee, but the men in this family had a knack for blurting out the right questions at the wrong time. As much as she itched to recount the intense scene with his mother, he was better off not knowing.
“No reason, Andrew, except this is a short cut to the garden house.”
“It’s also the servants’ quarters.”
“Is it? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
The lie came out with such ease that Andrew didn’t even raise an eyebrow. On the contrary, he suddenly looked sheepish while he led her across the lawn. Intrigued, she took the initiative. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“As a matter of fact, there’s a particular subject I’ve been meaning to broach with you. However, I fear . . .”
She glanced at him when his voice trailed off. Face crimson, he seemed so embarrassed that she had to refrain from grinning. What could be the source of his discomfort? Did he do something naughty? She waited him out, grass swishing underfoot as they made their way to the garden house.
The door stood ajar, her father and Jake probably back from their stroll outside. She pushed it open, her heart going into overdrive as soon as she spotted them. Both men were sprawled on the floor, eyes closed but breathing. The gunslinger lay face down not far from her dad, blood oozing from his temple, one of his Colts lying beside her foot.
They all believed the enemy wouldn’t show his face for another ten or twelve hours. They were wrong.
Chapter 15
A bullet through the heart wouldn’t kill the immortal. Four years ago, that lesson had been learned at Tracy’s expense. She’d seen with her own eyes Khrull’s flesh knit itself right after being shot in the brain. With slow and careful movements, she crouched, picked up the gun and signaled Andrew to get down.
Johnny. Oh, God, Johnny.
Sweat clung to her palms as she wedged the weapon into Andrew’s hand. He took it and didn’t utter a word when she whispered in his ear. “See that glass container on the table? Shoot it as soon as I slip it into the immortal’s pocket. Don’t miss.”
His eyes expanded, but he gave her a nod. From her squatting position, she observed the room while trying to ignore the hammering of her heart. Silence only met her ears. Jake and her father remained unconscious. Where the fuck was the bastard? Had Raphael taken the fight outside?
She riveted her gaze to the secure room, taking in the edge of the bed, the feet of an empty chair, the bottom part of the closet. Her guardian vampire had been sitting on that chair when she went to the manor. Damn, where was he and why didn’t she lock the door before leaving? She raised her eyes. The flask sat on the table.
Whatever happened in here, she had to reach the explosive. Her thighs quivered, yet she pulled herself up. The part of the secure room she could see appeared empty. Jesus, where was Johnny?
Motioning Andrew to stay low, she edged forward, her mind screaming at her to use stealth while her blood bounced in her veins. She’d never be able to do this. She wasn’t a fighter, just a girl from California. Confronting the dragon queen had already taken a toll on her yet anger didn’t compare with fear. For her baby boy.
Tracy inched along the sturdy bench, her gaze darting left and right, her armpits itchy with perspiration. Beads of sweat also dampening her brow, she advanced with careful steps, her gaze encompassing her surroundings, all her senses focused on the slightest movement. The flask sat on the table.
“There you are, girl.”
The immortal came out of the secure room. She froze, too far away to grab the container, breath caught in her lungs. Framed in the doorway, he seemed even bigger than she remembered, his bald head shining under the brightness of the electric lights. And his voice dissolved her insides. “I was waiting for you.”
“Why? What do you want?”
A guttural noise rolled up his throat, a graveling that could pass for laughter. She swallowed, tension hurting her muscles.
“Nothing,” he said.
So why was he standing in the secure room? She looked past his shoulder but the fucker was so big that she didn’t spot Johnny. Their bizarre confrontation felt weirder by the second, and she thought of running out screaming for help, ordering Andrew to shoot, or jumping for Jake’s second Colt.
But as the gunslinger pointed out earlier, Khrull had the advantage of being immortal and none of them would sleep soundly unless they destroyed him. She glanced to the side. The flask sat on the table.
What the hell was he after? Why didn’t he come out with it? Just when she hoped he might change his mind about raping or killing her, he leaned against the doorframe as though he was at home amongst friends. “I already have what I want.”
Good for you, now get the hell out. Saying the words out loud might not play in her favor, at least not with that whacko.
The safety click of a gun resounded behind her, and the bastard sneered. “I wouldn’t play with that weapon if I were you.”
Was that a threat? She held a hand up for Andrew’s benefit, praying his edginess wouldn’t prompt him to fire. Her eyes never leaving her enemy’s face, Tracy willed herself to remain motionless as he spoke again.
“I’m in a good mood today, mortals. Be nice you two, and I might spare your lives.”
“And if we don’t?” she blurted out. Why taunt Khrull when he’d just informed them of his sweet disposition and imminent departure? What the hell was wrong with her? Take it back, take it back. Too late as his deadly gaze fell on her breasts, lingered on the curve of her stomach, and dropped lower to settle on her groin.
The flask sat on the table.
“I think you will,” he replied with confidence, leering at her, his cold and glassy eyes making her skin pucker. Grossed out, she drew in shallow breaths and started when he pushed himself off the doorway to reach out behind him. “I’m leaving but don’t worry, I’ll take good care of the boy.”
Her stomach exploded with fear as Khrull brought his arm forward. He was holding her baby by the back of the collar. Johnny’s feet didn’t touch the ground, his head lolling as though he was asleep.
“Don’t you touch him!” she cried out, all reason lost. Guts ablaze, heart compressed to the point of rupture, she struggled for air as a black veil narrowed her field of vision. The garden house dimmed at the corners of her eyes and only the two people in front of her remained. What the immortal wanted from the beginning was her boy. Was Johnny hurt? Why didn’t he wake up? But his head hung loose as the bastard took a step toward the main door.
“No rash moves now,” he said.
“Go to hell, you motherfucker.”
She flung herself over the table to seize the flask. Her fingers folded around it while she rolled over toward the enemy, but speed hindered her and the container was too smooth. It slipped from her grasp just as she reached the other side. She heard the sound of glass breaking and despair engulfed her.
The colorless liquid spread out across the floor. Her eyes watering, she gripped the edge of the table to avoid crashing into a chair. A yell burst out of her mouth when a hand grabbed her neck and yanked her hard. She staggered to her feet, pain lancing her throat
as Khrull’s voice rang beside her.
“Fire that gun, young man, and I’ll snap their necks.”
Andrew lowered his weapon. Her belly writhing with a fury she had no control over, Tracy glanced sideways despite the deadly grip. Johnny hadn’t moved, still unconscious and dangling from the bastard’s hold on his T-shirt.
A slight movement on the ground caught her attention, but the table blocked her view now that she stood on the other side. Jake coming back to his senses? Hope filling her lungs, she drew in raspy breaths when the immortal began dragging her toward the door. He was invincible, but her hands were free and she could hurt him.
She flexed her fingers into claws, threw her arm back, and rammed her nails into his eyes with all her might. He howled.
At the same time, his hand loosened and she wrenched herself out of his grip. The violent movement made her stumble. She fell down on her bottom but kept watching. Bile rose up her throat as she spotted the blood and thick fluids leaking out of the mushy hole where his left eye used to be.
Half-blind, he nonetheless reached the open front door without letting go of Johnny. Andrew raised the gun, probably sensing an opportunity. What if he was too nervous to aim with accuracy and shot Johnny? She scrambled to her feet just as the enemy stepped outside and Andrew pointed the weapon at his back.
“Andrew, no!”
When she shouted, his finger relaxed on the trigger, his torn features displaying the depth of his feelings for his nephew. What the fuck would it take to bring down the immortal?
The fierceness of her pulse prompted her forward. Yet her heart lurched again when a loud crack rang outside the door and reverberated across the room. Khrull dropped to his knees, Johnny collapsing on the fresh grass.
Tracy rushed to her son, her mind registering a hollow on the side of her enemy’s head, a shovel being lifted, strong fingers strained around the handle, and Garrett hurtling the shovel down on the immortal once more.
Garrett struck the back of his neck this time, the powerful blow bringing forth a bellow of pain and frustration while she threw herself on the grass beside Johnny. Was her child breathing? Then she yelled when pain burst across her cheek.
The impact propelled her to the side, a racking ache extracting tears from her eyes and cutting off her respiration. She toppled over, her fingers clutching the lawn as she saw Khrull’s smirk through a misty haze. “The half-breed is mine.”
That fucking bastard had just punched her in the face, yet he managed to croak insanities while a deluge of blows rained down on his back. He cocked his head toward her and the sight of both his perfectly formed eyes twisted her insides. The shovel struck and struck again, each hit making him wince. “The half-breed . . .”
She slid her hands under Johnny’s armpits to pull him against her. His pulse beat against her palm, the precious fluttering instantly expanding her lungs. She inhaled through constricted nostrils and blinked. Regardless of Garrett’s whacking, the immortal managed to get to his feet. “. . . is mine.”
He caught the shovel mid-air and yanked the tool with such violence that Garrett lost his balance. There was no way out and they couldn’t destroy him. She tightened her grip around Johnny, clutching him against her heart.
As Khrull raised the shovel to smash it on Garrett, Andrew fired six rounds into the creature’s chest. The tool dropped from his hands. His mouth formed an O, his gaze switching from the gunner to her.
“Give me a sec and I’ll get you too, bitch,” he said before crashing onto the ground, face turned toward the sky. His eyes glazed over but remained open. She crawled away from him, Johnny’s weight hampering her escape. Garrett rushed to them, scooped up their son into his arms, and helped her up.
On the other side of the unconscious body, Andrew wiped sweat off his forehead. “Bloody hell, that was bizarrely bracing. Yet I’d wager six bullets won’t keep him down longer than a minute.”
“No, it won’t.” Her father’s voice loosened the knots in her stomach as she looked sideways to find him standing just outside the doorway. “But this will.”
He took a step while raising his arm. He held a syringe in his hand and the sight quickened her pulse. “What is it?”
“Anesthetics.”
Her father must also keep a William Richardson’s special first aid kit handy in that secure room of his. Although he looked paler than usual, no bruises were visible on his face. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt.
“Dad, are you okay?”
“For the most part. I have a splitting headache, though. That vicious creature knocked me out for sure.”
His comment prompted Tracy to glance down at the immortal. His fingers twitched and an icy feeling gripped her insides.
“He’s coming to. Hurry, Dad.”
Despite his headache, her father moved fast. He kneeled beside Khrull’s face, flicked the needle into his exposed neck, and pumped inside the whole contents of the syringe. She breathed easier, her lungs opening up to let in oxygen. Then she swallowed when the enemy’s eyelids closed.
“How long before he wakes up?” she asked.
“This compound would bring down a bull for at least forty-eight hours. But with this guy, I can’t say for certain. Maybe two hours.”
A distant but animated hubbub of voices reached them. The people in the manor had heard the gunshots and a whole string of questions would be raised. Straightening up, her father watched them in turn.
“We need to get him inside before anyone sees him,” he said. “Andrew, run to the manor, tell everybody you were practicing targets, and bring back some ice. Garrett, put my grandson in the secure room, find a way to rouse Jake, and then help me move this guy. Tracy, stay with Johnny, I’ll take a look at him in a minute.”
Andrew bolted toward the huge house, his feet barely touching the grass. With a heavy heart, she passed her hand across her son’s brow before Garrett carried him inside. What had the immortal done to her baby?
They found Raphael in the secure room, on the floor behind the bed. He was trying to sit up, the whole left side of his face displaying angry colors of red and purple blending with a yellowish tinge.
While Garrett laid Johnny down on the bed before pulling the cover over his son, she went to her guardian vampire.
“Raphael, what happened to you?”
“Khrull got your father and the gunslinger first, and I wasn’t able to slow him down this time. Tracy, I’m truly sorry I failed you. I promised to watch over your son, and I should have fought better. This is all my fault.”
“Hey, it’s all right. Nobody’s to blame, and I can’t tell you how happy I am you’re still alive. I’ve been so worried about you.”
He opened his arms and she moved into his embrace naturally, instinctively, the way she always did with him. He was her guardian vampire, and he was kin. Behind them, Garrett cleared his throat. Jealous again?
When would he understand Raphael wasn’t a rival because she loved him like a best friend and a brother? Maybe she’d better make time to explain to Garrett he had nothing to fear from the creature of the night. Or perhaps she wouldn’t make any effort to put her lover’s jealousy at rest. She didn’t get married, he did.
Totally ignoring Garrett, she released Raphael with a smile and sat down on the bed beside Johnny. His deep and regular breathing sounded reassuring, yet she ached for her dad to examine him.
“What has that bastard done to my baby?” she whispered.
“Your son is fine.”
She riveted her gaze to Raphael’s, his four simple words wrenching her guts with a relief she hadn’t known possible. “How do you know?”
“I’ve seen Khrull do this trick many times. He applies pressure somewhere at the base of the neck to put people to sleep. It’s effective and harmless. Johnny will wake up in
a few hours feeling rested.”
“Thank God for that.”
She’d heard of acupuncture points, but the method required fine needles. Or perhaps the immortal had found a way to alter the technique to his advantage. Solace invading her limbs down to her fingertips, she leaned over to kiss Johnny’s forehead before stroking the curve of his cool cheek.
“Rest, my baby. Mommy’s here.”
Even deep in slumber, he’d sense her presence and hear her voice through the veils of sleep. Nothing else mattered. Except to Garrett who backed toward the door while motioning Raphael to follow him. “I shall need your assistance.”
They both left to take care of Jake and carry the immortal inside the garden house. What would having the bastard on the premises achieve now that the flask was broken? Shattered along with their hopes.
She observed Johnny’s small face, the contours she knew better than her own, the fragile eyelids, the familiar pout he sometimes retained during his sleep, and the baby cheeks she wanted to kiss for hours on end.
As much as she longed to stay by his side, she should get up and go help the others. Her father banked on a couple hours before the enemy came to, but what if he miscalculated? Who could tell with such a formidable foe? As Garrett told her the first time they’d met, ‘Time was of the essence’.
The gunslinger was on his feet when she entered the main room, dried blood crusting his temple, eyes blazing with fury. He grabbed the cloth Raphael handed him and dabbed the side of his face with a wince.
“Damn it,” Jake said. “Where’s that bastard?”
“Right here.” Andrew pulled the immortal’s legs toward him while Garrett pushed the rest of the body inside. Perspiration glistened on both men’s foreheads as though they’d carried a dead horse. How long did it take them? Five minutes? A hell of a long time to transport an unconscious man, even that big. They dropped their load at the same time, the same way they’d stash away sacks of grain.
