Not Quite Dead (A NightHunter Novel)

by Stephanie Rowe

  "Me, too." Eric glanced at the sun, and she saw that it was lower in the sky, but still strong. "If we die, I'll find you in the afterlife. You won't be alone. I swear it."

  Her throat tightened. "I know you will." It wasn't a declaration of love exactly, but it was enough to make her want to cry. "But just so you know, I'm not going to sit around waiting for you. I'll find you first."

  He grinned. "That's my girl."

  She smiled back, and then she hit the gas and headed up the driveway.

  Chapter 23

  Eric felt the brush of evil as Jordyn navigated the winding driveway. It was thick and heavy, like tainted blood blanketing the air. The overgrown trees blocked most of the sun, and he pulled some of his magic away from protecting him from the sun. He redirected it outward, sending tentacles into the surrounding area. His energy bounced off the trees, and a few small animals, but there were no dead spots that would indicate a vampire. "I can't locate him."

  He didn't like not knowing where the threat was coming from, and he instinctively moved closer to Jordyn, using his body to shield her as she drove. He had two stakes in his left hand, but he kept his right hand free to use for magic. A ball of energy began to form in his right palm, and he reached out, calling to the spirits of the dead. They surged to him, delighted at the opportunity to latch onto him. He summoned them from everywhere, accepting them all, sweeping them into him, and assembling their power.

  "I can feel what you're doing." Jordyn didn't even look at him as she guided the truck past the potholes. "Don't push it too far. If you implode, you can't help Tristan. Or me." She reached out with her mind to offer him some of her more positive spirits, but he kept his shields strong between them.

  "I can't worry about protecting you from myself," he said. "I need to make sure you're secure against all threats so I can focus. Let me shield you."

  She glanced at him. "I don't want you to die," she said softly.

  Something tightened in his chest. "I know, honey. I'll do my best—" Pain suddenly ricocheted through his chest, and his ribs cracked. He bent over, gasping for air, as Jordyn's door was ripped open.

  A streak of black smoke whipped into the cab, wrapped around Jordyn, and dragged her out of the truck. She yelped and grabbed onto the steering wheel, trying to anchor herself. "Eric!"

  "Hey!" Eric lunged for her, but her fingers slipped off just as he reached for her wrist, and she disappeared out of the car.

  "Jordyn!" He dove across the seat and shot out of the truck. He hit the air and instinctively dissolved into a mist. He had a split second "what the hell" moment when he turned into particles, and then embraced it and streaked across the expansive, overgrown yard in pursuit of the black smoke wrapped around Jordyn. Cicatrice was entwined around Jordyn, almost completely obscuring her from Eric's view as he dragged her back toward the towering mansion. She was struggling to get free, but the mist was over her mouth and eyes, silencing her.

  "Let her go!" He kept a tight grip on his magic, bearing down on the older vampire with surreal speed. He urged his hand to take shape out of the mist, and then he fisted the glowing ball of light he'd been channeling before the attack. He summoned all his energy, coiling it tighter and tighter as Cicatrice began to pull away, outpacing Eric. Shield yourself, Jordyn. He gave her a split second of warning, and then unleashed his magic at the master vampire. The magic exploded from him and tore after Cicatrice.

  Eric's magic hit Cicatrice with violent force, and there was a massive boom that threw Eric backward. He lost his mist form and slammed into a tree as Cicatrice's black mist dissolved in a thousand particles. Jordyn began to fall, tumbling from thirty feet in the air.

  "Jordyn!" Eric lunged to his feet and raced across the ground, trying to get to her—

  The master vampire suddenly took the shape of a man, and the shadowy figure streaked across the sky. He scooped up Jordyn before Eric could get to her, and shot back into the sky, sweeping her away from him.

  "She's my mate, and you can't bond with her as long as I'm alive," Eric shouted, his hands fisted by his sides.

  Cicatrice looked back over his shoulder, his booming laugh scraping across Eric's flesh. His face was pale, and his cheeks were sunken, but his eyes were a deep black of power. A black duster hung from his broad shoulders, a sharp contrast to his starched white shirt. For a split second, the two vampires stared at each other, and then Cicatrice whirled around and charged directly at him, Jordyn tucked under his arm. She twisted, and he glimpsed her grandmother's stake in her hand. She still had it! That was his woman, all right.

  "Come and get me!" Eric leapt into the air and launched himself at Cicatrice. As Eric streaked toward him, his fingers curved into claws, and he felt his fangs lengthen. His vision shifted into a blood-red hue, and the hunger to take a life raged through him. His upper lip curled in a snarl, and his entire focus went onto the creature hurtling toward him.

  In his left hand, Eric held a stake, but his right was empty of everything but his own power. He braced himself, preparing for a collision. "Now!" he shouted to Jordyn. They crashed into each other, and the impact sent them both tumbling through the air.

  Cicatrice's hand slammed into Eric's chest, and he felt the claws clamp around heart. Swearing, he gripped Cicatrice's wrist, holding the vampire's hand in his chest so he couldn't rip out his heart. At the same time, he shoved his own stake straight into Cicatrice's heart.

  For a moment, they stared at each other, and then the stake was sucked out of Eric's hand and went right through the other vampire's chest and burst out the other side. The stake tumbled to the ground as Cicatrice healed the wound instantly.

  Shit. The ordinary stake had done nothing to the vampire. They needed her grandmother's stake.

  "And now you die." Cicatrice twisted Eric's heart, and he gasped, tightening his grip on Cicatrice's arm, trying to immobilize the vampire so he couldn't rip his heart out. At the same time, Eric tried to jam his own hand into Cicatrice's chest, but his claws couldn't penetrate the older vampire's skin. Eric hit him again, and again, fighting to distract him while Jordyn twisted around, trying to get the right angle.

  Pain ripped through his chest, and he felt his body weakening as Cicatrice tightened his grip on Eric's heart. Jordyn?

  I got it. She twisted around, and he saw her arm arcing up from beneath to slam her grandmother's stake into the master vampire's chest. The stake was glowing red now, and all the runes carved on it were dark black, standing out against the red. It looked alive, and he knew with sudden certainty that it would work, even on a master vampire.

  He released his grip on Cicatrice's wrist and grabbed the vampire's throat, tearing through the soft flesh. Cicatrice's free hand went up to stop him, exposing his chest so Jordyn could stake him. Eric felt his own heart being pried from his chest just as Jordyn slammed the stake upward toward Cicatrice's heart—

  The master vampire lunged violently to the left, throwing Eric off balance. Jordyn shouted a warning, and then Eric felt her stake sink into his stomach. There was a flash of blinding pain, and suddenly his mind seemed to shatter into a thousand fragments. His entire body went numb, and he fell, catapulting out of the sky.

  Above him, Cicatrice grinned down at him, and Jordyn hung in his arms, staring down at Eric with a look of absolute horror on her face. Numbly, Eric touched his belly, and his fingers closed around the stake that was buried in his gut. Son of a bitch. Cicatrice had made Jordyn stab him instead. Fuck. His hand burned the moment he touched it, but he grabbed it anyway. His arm went numb, and he tore it out of his body, flinging it aside.

  It clattered to the ground, landing point-down in the earth just as he crashed beside it.

  The impact jarred every bone in his body, and he lay there, unable to move as the sun poured over his unprotected flesh. Smoke rose in tendrils from his body, as Cicatrice spun around and flew back toward the second floor of the mansion, Jordyn still in his arms.

  "No." Eric managed a gasp, and tried
to summon magic...but there was nothing. His body was empty of power. The spirits had abandoned him, as there was no life left in his dying body for them to prey upon. He tried to roll over, and he managed to get himself on his side. With agonizing slowness, he began to drag himself toward the mansion, inch by inch, ignoring the burning of his flesh, and the blackened smoke emanating from his stomach wound. His blood mixed with the dirt, leaving a dark, muddy trail behind him, but he didn't stop.

  He would never stop.

  He would get to her.

  He would not fail.

  Eric. Tristan's gravelly voice brushed through his mind.

  Cicatrice has her. Eric dragged himself another six inches, but the pain in his body was excruciating. His muscles were beginning to burn up inside his flesh, and his organs were searing hot, moments from bursting into flames. He didn't even know if it was from the sun or the stake, or some combination. You have to stop him.

  Tristan's pain cut through him before his brother rebuilt the shields between them, but it was enough to let Eric know that his brother was in the same condition he was in.

  Can't move. Tristan shared an image with Eric, and Eric saw his brother staked down on the roof deck of the mansion. Cicatrice had driven a rune-carved stake through each limb, with three more of them forming a triangle in his belly. Tristan's skin was blackened, and smoke was rising from his body. Contaminated, open wounds oozed across his torso, as if Cicatrice had clawed him for pure pleasure before staking him. His brother's chest was barely moving, his breath stuttering through the broken ribs that Eric had suffered with him.

  Son of a bitch. Fresh urgency roused Eric, and he surged forward another two feet toward the mansion that was still a hundred yards away. You gotta do better than that, bro. How are you going to save the girl?

  Just so you know, Tristan wheezed, if you die, I don't think I can resurrect you right now. Feeling a little under the weather. Chicken pox, maybe. I never did have that as a kid, you know.

  Eric managed to lift his head to inspect the distance to the roof. The mansion was three stories high, and it looked like an impossible feat to get up there. You're such a pansy. You get hit with a few stakes, and then you're too weak to withstand the sun? Did I teach you nothing about survival? He rolled over, too exhausted to move, as he stared up at the roof, reaching out to try to find his brother, willing every last bit of energy into his fading body. I'm not going to make it to the mansion, bro.

  I know you're not. You got stabbed by the one stake that can kill you. What the hell kind of plan is that? Tristan's energy surged toward him, and Eric suddenly pinpointed the location of his brother. He thrust his life force toward Tristan, and the brothers met in midair, their energy combining to hold them together.

  What now? Tristan gritted out, the effort of sustaining the connection ruthlessly draining his last reserves.

  I'll come up there. Eric's mind was almost non-functioning, the pain was so great. He could barely think, barely hold onto his mind, and he shoved himself to his hands and knees, rocking back and forth as he tried to keep his balance. The numbness pervading his body was devastating, and he felt his entire system shutting down.

  Leap up here? That's your plan? This is the worst idea you've ever had. It will never work. Even as he said it, Eric felt Tristan summon what little strength he had left. Both brothers locked more tightly upon each other, and the invisible cord between them became stronger.

  You have a shitty attitude, little brother. Go! Eric thrust all his remaining energy into his body and leapt straight up into the air, latching onto the metaphysical link between them, dragging himself closer inch by inch.

  Tristan held the connection, and Eric raced along it, using the bond they'd built over so many years. He was almost at the top of the mansion, and then he was over the roofline. He could see Tristan staked out on the roof, his skin burning with violent flames. The moment he made visual contact, the connection between the brothers surged. It latched onto Eric and jerked him forward, dragging him violently across the battered roof toward Tristan.

  His brother turned his head, his eyes mere slits. They made eye contact, and Eric felt fresh energy rush through him. He collided with his brother, and the impact tore the stakes from the roof, ripping Tristan free. Eric grabbed his brother and let the momentum carry them toward the shadows from the massive chimney.

  They crashed into the brick and collapsed in the small shaded area. For a long moment, neither brother moved. The flames had stopped, but Eric could feel his flesh melting from his body, and his heart was shriveling inside him. He turned his head, and saw Tristan lying beside him with his eyes closed. His body was covered in far more wounds than Eric had realized, and his chest was barely moving. Tristan.

  His brother opened his eyes a crack, turning his head just enough to look at Eric. "I missed you, bro."

  "You're a dumb shit to cut me off like you did." Eric closed his eyes, unable to keep them open. "Jordyn's down there," he muttered. "We have to get her."

  "I know." But Tristan didn't move either.

  Swearing, Eric turned his head. He realized suddenly that Tristan's soul was beginning to detach from his physical body. Summoning energy, he lunged toward his brother. His fingers brushed Tristan's arm, and he wrapped his hand around his brother's wrist. The physical contact unleashed the combined energy of the brothers. He tightened his grip on Tristan and opened his shields. Their spirits rushed toward each other, two halves of one whole, trying to repair the broken bodies enough that each had to only sustain half a life.

  Tristan rolled onto his side, facing him as the energy erupted between them, feeding and repairing—

  A stake suddenly slammed into Tristan's back. His eyes widened, and blood trickled out of his mouth as his chest burst into flames. The end of the stake protruded from his heart, and then was jerked backward. Eric's body convulsed, twisting in agony as it fought to withstand the attack that had hurt him through his connection with Tristan. A boot shoved at Tristan's shoulder, rolling him to the side, and then someone squatted in front of Eric.

  The sun backlit him, and Eric couldn't see his face, but he recognized the build. "David," he gasped. "That was the wrong, fucking vampire, you fool."

  David leaned forward, his face hard. "It's never the wrong vampire, Eric." In his hand was Jordyn's grandmother's stake, and the blade was glowing. The bastard had swiped it from the ground where Eric had dropped it. David's hand was clothed in a heavy work glove. For a long moment, Eric stared at the glove, trying to process it. He recalled the towel that David had been holding in the kitchen when he'd been handling the stakes, and suddenly Eric knew. David had to protect his own hand from that stake, because it would hurt him, too.

  "Son of a bitch," he muttered. "You're a vampire. You hunt vampires, but you're one of us."

  David held his index finger to his lips. "Ssh. That's my secret." Then he reared back to jam the stake into Eric's heart one final time.

  ***

  Cicatrice dumped Jordyn on the floor with enough force to send her sprawling across the polished marble. She scrambled to her feet and whirled to face him, frantic. Eric. Can you hear me? Are you okay? Her hands were shaking. She couldn't believe she'd staked him. She should have been ready for Cicatrice to move. How had she failed so completely?

  But she knew how she had. It was because at the last second, when Eric had stopped trying to keep Cicatrice from stealing his heart, she'd panicked, paralyzed by her terror of Eric dying. For that one moment, she'd been so utterly consumed by the horror of watching Cicatrice kill Eric that she'd lost her focus, and now he was out there, in the sun, dying, because of her.

  "Come." Cicatrice strode across the room, slamming the shutters closed to block out the light. He swept his hand across the room, and a thousand candles burst into flames, perched in crevices, on the floor, on tables, on every piece of dusty, antique furniture in the room.

  Jordyn surged to her feet, looking around the room for a weapon. She saw
only a bed. A portrait. A... Her gaze swept back to the portrait. It was several feet tall, an antique oil painting with an ornate bronze frame centered above the massive headboard of the four-poster bed. The woman in the portrait was young and beautiful, with long brown hair swept up on her head. Her lips were blood red, curved in a half-smile. Her skin was porcelain, and a beautiful pendant necklace was her only jewelry.

  Jordyn stared at the familiar pendant, awareness growing within her. "That's my grandmother."

  "It is." Cicatrice strode across the room, his polished black boots making no sound on the floor. "I had that commissioned the day after I met her. She spent hours sitting for it. She was beautiful, my precious Bridgette."

  "Your precious Bridgette?" She knew Oba's given name was Bridgette, but no one had ever called her that, except apparently her true love. The reverence in his tone jerked her back to the present, and she glared at him. "If she was so precious, why did you kill her?"

  "Silence!" Cicatrice swept his hand at her, and her words tore from her throat. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, her voice stripped away by the mere flick of his wrist.

  Fear of the sheer magnitude of his power trickled through her as he turned toward her, giving her the first real look at the vampire who had hunted her for so long. His face was beautiful and poignant, as ethereal as the portrait of her grandmother. His clothes were those of an ancient lord, lush and rich, fitting his body to perfection. He moved with the grace of a predator, his muscles flexing effortlessly with each step he took. Along the side of his face was a jagged scar, still as raw and red as if he'd received it only recently. He touched it, his fingers sliding over it in a caress. "Your grandmother's present the day we met. She always regretted marring my beauty, but I will always cherish this as an eternal symbol of the passion that bound us." His voice was smooth and mesmerizing, just as it had been when he'd violated her dreams.