Phantom Shadows ig-3

by Dianne Duvall

  Oh. Shit.

  “Did you gain her permission?”

  “Yes,” they all hastened to declare.

  The luminescence faded, leaving his eyes a brown so dark they were nearly black.

  Roland completed the transfusion. As his fangs retracted, he touched his fingers to the bite marks and healed them, then lowered Melanie’s arm gently to the covers. “I thought I would never transform a mortal. Now I’ve transformed two.”

  Sarah joined him and leaned into his side, wrapping an arm around his waist.

  Seth crossed to stand beside Bastien. Reaching down, he rested his hand atop Melanie’s hair.

  How well did he know her?

  “We should take her to David’s,” Seth said. “She’ll be more comfortable there. And safe.” He gave the damage to the other part of the room a quick once-over and sighed. “I’m not even going to ask.”

  Melanie wondered how many times she would have to hang her head over the damned toilet before her stomach got the message that there wasn’t anything left to come up.

  When the latest bout of retching finally ceased, she sat on the floor and leaned back against the huge whirlpool tub, too weary to rise. She was nearing the end of day two of her transformation and so wanted it to be over with already.

  Sarah had warned her it would be like this, that it would feel as if she had contracted the worst case of the flu ever. Fever, aches, majorly unsettled stomach, a fluctuating migraine. Her muscles felt like she imagined they would if she had never exercised a day in her life, then spent a week working out for hours every day with heavy weights. She was hot. And cold. Her body shivered while heat flayed her just beneath the skin and poured out of her eye sockets.

  Melanie grimaced at the image that evoked and told herself to get up and drag her weak ass back into the bedroom.

  Minutes passed and she didn’t move.

  Oh well. She’d just have to come back in here and gag her head off in half an hour anyway. May as well stick around.

  She contemplated her new sumptuous accommodations. Glass tile in soothing green tones. Dark wood cabinets. Bright white sink and tub. Shiny chrome fixtures. Bamboo plants. Fluffy white towels. It was like being in an expensive spa.

  Closing her eyes, she rested her head back against the tub.

  “Dr. Lipton?”

  Frowning, Melanie pried her eyes open. Had she fallen asleep?

  Peering up at the small figure leaning over her, she tried to get her eyes to focus. “Ami?”

  “Yes. Are you all right?”

  “Sure.” She couldn’t seem to get Ami and the rest of the room to quit swirling around.

  “Where’s Linda?”

  Something about an emergency at the network? Or a Second being injured? Melanie couldn’t remember.

  “Can I help you back to bed?”

  “Okay.”

  Decked out in hunting garb, Ami crouched down in front of her and pulled Melanie’s arms around her neck.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Ami locked her hands behind Melanie’s back, then hoisted her to her feet.

  Melanie’s knees buckled. “I don’t know.”

  Though smaller than her, Ami shifted Melanie to one side and pretty much carried her into the bedroom. “Why were you on the bathroom floor?”

  “Whatever they’re eating upstairs keeps making me sick.”

  “You can smell that down here?”

  “You can’t?” The scent was so strong they may as well have been cooking it in the damn room with her.

  Ami helped her into bed and pressed a hand to Melanie’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

  The sheets felt cold against her skin, inspiring a tidal wave of shivers.

  Ami arranged Melanie’s limp body comfortably and drew the covers up to her chin. “She’s burning up,” she said softly.

  Bastien loomed over the bed. “Melanie?” His hand was cool against her fiery forehead. His hair was windblown. His clothes were wet in places. His skin smelled of sweet North Carolina nights and something metallic. He must have just returned from hunting. “Melanie? Can you hear me, sweetheart?” Then lower: “How long has she been like this?”

  “I don’t know. I just found her.”

  “Where’s Linda?”

  “I don’t know. I asked Dr. Lipton, but she didn’t answer.”

  “Let’s get the blankets off her.”

  Cold air embraced Melanie when he yanked the covers back.

  “I’m sorry,” Ami said. “I’ve never been sick before and didn’t know what to do for a fever. She was shivering, so I thought—”

  “I know, Ami. It’s okay. Would you see if you can track down David while I try Roland?”

  Melanie couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer. The sounds of Bastien retrieving, then dialing his phone seemed magnified.

  “Roland? Melanie is spiking a fever . . . I don’t know, but you don’t even have to touch her to feel the heat coming off her skin . . .”

  Darkness.

  Quiet.

  Hands shaking, Bastien stripped off everything but his boxers at preternatural speeds.

  Ami and Darnell hurried past, arms full of towels they took into the bathroom. Roland, Sarah, and Richart flew past in a blur, scuffling as they hit the doorway at the same time.

  Pulling the oversized shirt he had leant Melanie down over her pale pink bikini panties, Bastien found himself silently offering up a prayer for the first time in decades. Or was it centuries?

  Fire radiated from Melanie’s skin as he lifted her limp form into his arms.

  It terrified him. As did her total lack of response.

  He hurried into the bathroom, which thankfully was spacious. Ami and Darnell were lining the edges of the oversized bathtub with thick fluffy towels. The three immortals were pouring several large bags of ice into the water that filled it.

  “You’ll have to get into the tub with her,” Roland said. “Lucid or nay, she’ll do her damnedest to get out of there once the cold hits her.”

  Sarah twined the fingers of one hand through Roland’s. “Roland did it for me. That’s one of the few things I remember from my transformation.”

  As soon as everyone moved back, Bastien stepped into the water. Small, rectangular cubes bobbed on the surface and bounced against his shins as others beneath them tried to fight their way to the top. Extreme cold cut through him like shards of glass.

  Bastien gritted his teeth. With a little concentration, he could regulate his body temperature so efficiently that steam would rise from his skin. But the whole point of this was to cool Melanie down, so his body temperature needed to match that of the water.

  Taking a deep breath (he was not looking forward to that frigid water hitting his family jewels), he sat with Melanie reclining in his lap, her back to his chest.

  A split second later, she awoke with a roar. Lunging away from him, she struggled to leave the water and escape the cold that pierced her skin like needles.

  Bastien locked his arms around her and murmured reassuring nonsense as he gently eased her back against him. Her arms and legs flailed and fought, striking the edge of the tub he was glad Ami and Darnell had thought to pad with towels.

  Weak from the virus wreaking havoc within her, Melanie swiftly fell still, panting and shivering against him.

  “Just a little longer,” he whispered, chest aching as tears silently leaked from the corners of her closed eyes. “Just a little longer, sweetheart. Then you’ll never be ill again.”

  Every second lasted an hour. The tiny rectangular icebergs dwindled in size as Melanie’s warmth reached them. And, with every second, the pain wracking his body multiplied.

  But he voiced no complaints. He merely held Melanie’s shivering form close and hoped this would work.

  Awkward, anxious silence filled the room.

  Teeth chattering, he bent his head, pressed his cheek to hers, and closed his eyes.

  Chapter 15

  Me
lanie awoke not knowing where she was or how she had come to be there. The lights were off. No windows provided ambient light. Soft sheets cushioned her back. Others were drawn up to her neck.

  Habit left her squinting at her surroundings until she realized she could see them clearly in the darkness without squinting.

  Raising her head, she examined the bedroom. It was odd, seeing it this way. In pitch blackness, much of the color had been leeched from the walls, bedding, and other decor.

  Was this how immortals saw things? Was this how cats and dogs and nocturnal creatures saw things at night? Because this was very cool.

  Lowering her head to the pillow, she decided the toothache plaguing her, on the other hand, was not cool. Nor was the throbbing headache.

  At least the nausea was better.

  She tried to raise one hand to rub her pounding temples and couldn’t. The large fingers twined through hers tightened and drew her arm up against a hard chest.

  Melanie slowly turned her head on the pillow.

  Bastien slept beside her on his side, her hand and forearm now tucked against his chest. The stubble on his chin abraded her knuckles.

  His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in sleep. She had never noticed how long his eyelashes were. Those warm, beautiful brown eyes of his always distracted her, particularly when they burned with amber flames.

  She rolled onto her side, facing him.

  He looked tired. He must not have been feeding.

  How long had he been caring for her and watching over her?

  His lashes lifted. Those chestnut eyes met hers.

  Melanie reached up with her free hand and drew her fingers down the side of his handsome face.

  His eyes began to glow. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered.

  Her own eyes pricked with tears at the stark plea. “I won’t. I’m better now.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it fervently. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No. Just rest,” she murmured and scooted closer.

  His lids lowered. A long sigh brushed her knuckles. His brow smoothed out as his breathing deepened.

  His grip on her hand, however, never lessened.

  Smiling despite the headache and toothache, Melanie closed her eyes and let sleep claim her.

  Bastien jerked awake when a hand clamped around his throat. Golden eyes blazing with fury met his in the darkness.

  Seth. Oh shit.

  Bastien glanced to the side where Melanie slept.

  If Seth intended to kill him, Bastien hoped he would do it elsewhere.

  “As you will,” the immortal leader snarled.

  The two of them teleported to the training room. Edward and Ethan were there, training with Étienne and Lisette, while Tracy sparred with Sheldon.

  All movement ceased when the others got a gander at their leader slowly choking the life out of Bastien, who wore only sweatpants.

  “Out,” Seth snapped.

  Weapons slid into sheaths. The immortals exited as slowly as the humans did, feet shuffling, necks craning, reluctant to miss the action.

  “Now!”

  That got them moving, leaving only Bastien and his executioner.

  Bastien thought fleetingly that Seth should have teleported them to his castle in England instead. Then they would have come full circle, having acted this scene out before.

  Seth yanked him closer. “Ah, but that time I let you live.” What felt like a fist tightened around Bastien’s heart. Pain streaked through his chest.

  “Oh, hell no!” Marcus entered, scowling darkly as he stomped toward the duo. “If anyone’s going to kill that asshole, it’s going to be me.”

  In his dreams. No way in hell would Bastien let Marcus be the implement of his demise. The bastard had nearly gotten Ami killed on at least two occasions.

  Seth dropped him like a stone. “Are you kidding me? That’s why I’m going to kill you! You put Ami in danger!”

  Bastien coughed and choked and sucked in air. The pressure in his chest vanished.

  “You’re really going to kill him?” Yet another new voice.

  All three turned to see David lounging in the doorway.

  “Yes,” Seth and Marcus both answered, then scowled at each other.

  “Well, try not to make too much of a mess. I’m tired of all of the blame-it-on-Bastien shit wrecking my home.”

  Bastien’s throat finally expanded enough for him to speak. “I thought you wanted to kill me, too,” he wheezed.

  David shook his head. “I just planned to kick your ass.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Any way it went, he was screwed. His big battle with Roland a couple of years ago had shown him quite clearly that any immortal hundreds of years older than him could pretty much wipe the floor with him. Sure, he’d get some hits in and do some damage of his own, but that’s about all he would do.

  He looked from one to the next to the last and thought of Melanie curled up in his bed, still ill from the transformation.

  You know what? Fuck that defeatist crap. Melanie needed him. He’d fight every immortal and Second in this house if he had to. He wasn’t going to let her down.

  David groaned and rolled his eyes.

  Seth swore.

  Marcus looked confused. “What?”

  “Had you shown as much concern for Ami,” Seth said, “I wouldn’t wish to reduce you to ashes right now.”

  “You think that decision was easy for me?” Bastien demanded. “You think I wanted Ami there? I’ve known her for almost as long as you have and love her just as much as you all do.”

  David ambled forward. “Seth and I removed Ami from Emrys’s clutches. You put her directly in his path.”

  “Emrys wasn’t there.”

  “But if he had been—”

  “Marcus would have ripped him limb from limb and I would’ve had Marcus’s back. I want Emrys dead. The longer it takes us to locate him, the more opportunity he has to share his discovery with others. Chris isn’t making any headway through his contacts. The whole vampire recruitment thing turned around and bit me on the ass.”

  “Stuart didn’t betray you,” David mentioned. “From what I could glean from the mercenaries’ thoughts while we fought them—”

  “They’re definitely mercenaries?”

  “Yes,” David confirmed, then continued. “The men Stuart encountered at Duke listened in on his conversation with the other vampire, observed their attack on the students they fed from, then tranqed them. They knew Stuart intended to meet with an immortal—he was trying to convince Paul to go with him—and decided to use that to their advantage, implanting the tracking device, then leaving him where he might wake up and think he had escaped. They tranqed the other vamp twice by accident and destroyed him.”

  Well, at least Stuart didn’t screw him over like certain other vampires had.

  “Stuart’s behavior isn’t at issue here. Yours is,” Seth reminded him.

  “I couldn’t reach you,” Bastien said. “And I knew Ami had the ability to find any of those soldiers again if we could just get her near them.”

  “David could track them without detection.”

  This again? Really? “I didn’t know he could shape-shift!”

  “What’s going on?” Ami entered the training room. “My ears are burning.” She looked to Marcus. “That’s a saying, isn’t it? My ears are burning? Because someone’s talking about me?”

  “Yes, love.”

  “Well, Lisette, Étienne, and the others came upstairs, then everyone started looking at me funny. Marcus, you didn’t punch Seth again, did you?”

  “No, sweetling. We were just . . . having a little discussion.”

  She pursed her lips and eyed them with skepticism. “You’re picking on Bastien for inviting me to the battle, aren’t you?”

  Seth moved toward her. “Ami—”

  “It was a smart move,” she defended, thrusting out her chin.

  “David was fully capable of tracking t
he soldiers who escaped without detection.”

  “Yes, David can tell you where they went. But David can’t tell you if they stayed there or where they went if they didn’t. I can.”

  “Ami—”

  She held up a hand, craning her neck to look up at the eldest immortal. “I already told you I want to play an active role in bringing Emrys to justice and David agreed that I have that right. Marcus did, too.” She caught and held her husband’s gaze. “Didn’t you?”

  Marcus sighed heavily. “Yes.”

  “Then we don’t have a problem, do we? Now, let Bastien get back to Melanie. He’s been worried sick about her.”

  Bastien waited a full minute. When no one objected, he cautiously exited the room and headed down the hallway to the second of two quiet rooms David had added recently.

  Seth appeared in front of the closed door.

  Bastien stopped in front of him and waited.

  Seth reached out and gripped Bastien’s shoulder.

  Bastien stiffened as the hallway around them fell away and was replaced by visions Seth implanted in his mind. Pain accompanied the visions. Hours of agony as men in scrubs and surgical masks cut him, burned him, removed bits of flesh. Over and over again. Hundreds of slices. Thousands of samples taken. Organs removed. Fingers and toes cut off. White hot bolts of electricity delivered to his head, his heart. A live dissection.

  He had never experienced such suffering and opened his mouth to shout with it.

  Seth released him. The visions vanished. The hallway resurfaced.

  A cry died in Bastien’s throat before he could free it. The strength left his knees. Panting, he sank to the floor and waited for the pain to recede.

  “What the hell was that?” he gasped. Bracing a hand against the wall, he struggled to regain his feet.

  “That,” Seth said, “was a fraction of what you risked Ami being subjected to again when you called her to the battle.”

  Horror suffused him. He had known that whatever had happened to her had been bad, but . . . “That’s what they did to her?”

  “That and more. They spent six months torturing her and dissecting her without sedating her or giving her anything to numb the pain.”