Illumination (The Penton Vampire Legacy Book 5)

by Susannah Sandlin

  She was going to have to drag him and somehow make sure no one saw her. Shay glanced at her watch. It was almost 5:30 a.m. What time was sunrise? At least there wouldn’t be many people out and about at this time of morning.

  First step: get him out of this building and figure out where she was. She thought about the logistics of dragging a heavy, unconscious vampire a long way by his arms or legs, and rejected it. Instead, she jogged to her cage and ripped the quilt off her bed, then got the one from Tina’s. Hauling them to a big space of empty warehouse floor, she spread them out side by side, overlapping by a couple of feet.

  She was going to wrap him like a big burrito. If this warehouse was where Shay thought, there were a lot of railroad tracks between them and civilization. The burrito would make sure she didn’t give him a concussion. Could he breathe in there? He was a freaking vampire; did he need to breathe? No time to worry about it. Better to suffocate in a quilt than fry in sunlight.

  She rolled Nik toward his cotton burrito wrapper, trying to keep his head from bouncing on the concrete floor. He groaned and opened his eyes, staring at the rafters. But it didn’t look like anybody was home in the Dimitrou brain cells. He closed his eyes again, but reopened them when Shay dropped to her knees next to him. “Nik, wake up!” She slapped his cheek with a hearty crack and, finally, his brain engaged.

  Shay remembered wanting to slap him a time or two in high school and it felt kind of good to do it now. But this was a positive sign. If he could at least stagger, it would help their chances of survival.

  “Nik, see if you can sit up.” Shay positioned herself in his direct line of vision. “We’ve gotta get you somewhere safe before daylight.”

  He looked up at her with a crooked smile. “Shay Underwood. You grew up well.”

  Yeah, well, not as well as him. “We can stroll down memory lane later. First, let’s see if we can get you on your feet and out of here before any of your vampire friends show up. Why aren’t you healing? Don’t vampires heal automatically? You must be a really pathetic vampire.”

  Insults seemed to wake him up even more; good to know. “I’m new at it,” he said. “Help me up.”

  It took some tugging and pulling, but Shay finally got Nik on his feet. He swayed until she pulled one of his arms around her shoulder for support. Even then, he almost took them both down. Shay wrapped an arm around his waist. “Let’s walk.”

  Shay walked; Nik shuffled. But at least he was upright and moving.

  “Wait.” Shay pulled away from Nik near the warehouse door and propped him against the wall. She stepped outside the door, looked, and listened. To her right, dim street lights illuminated the river beyond a sea of concrete wharves crisscrossed with train tracks. She’d thought the tracks were behind the building, so getting Nik out might be easier.

  A tanker glided silently past on the river, headed east toward the Gulf of Mexico. Nothing else moved.

  She returned to the warehouse, passed up Nik, and glanced quickly around the floor. She found Cage’s lost pistol and picked it up, then found Simon’s gun a foot from where his body had fallen. She tucked both guns in a pillowcase and stuck them down the front of her shirt, nestled against her little baby bump. Talk about wrong. Nik’s jacket still lay on the floor, and she grabbed that.

  She paused at the giant’s sword, shrugged, then picked it up as well, dragging it in her left hand while she helped Nik into his jacket. If they were spotted, she didn’t want to try explaining his stab wound or all that magenta-colored blood.

  To his credit, Nik raised an eyebrow at the sword but didn’t say a word as Shay helped him get moving. Then again, his eyes were looking kind of vacant. As long as his feet kept shuffling, his brain could go on sabbatical.

  She left the warehouse door open, and they walked left, away from the river. The area looked familiar—the cluttered wharf and rows of identical warehouses weren’t much help, but winding Tchoupitoulas Street was visible.

  It was too early for the shift workers and too late even for the partiers, so they were able to make it around the row of warehouses and, after a close look and listen, cross Tchoupitoulas Street and enter the neighborhood into what turned out to be Washington Avenue.

  Shay had always heard it was darkest before dawn, and she believed it. Even with the sparse streetlights that sent dim rays into the thick, misty air, she had trouble keeping Nik on his feet once they hit the uneven sidewalks humped and broken by the roots of the towering live oaks whose branches spread out overhead. A sheen of cold sweat formed on Shay’s face from the ever-present humidity.

  They’d only made it two long blocks before a vehicle engine sounded behind them on Tchoupitoulas. Shay began a mental chant: Don’t turn, don’t turn, don’t turn.

  It turned onto Washington Avenue, its headlights cutting through the mist as it approached them from behind. “If it stops, let me talk,” Shay hissed, thankful Nik’s bloody back wasn’t still on display, and she let the sword fall to the ground, hoping the driver hadn’t seen it. Her mental chant changed. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.

  “You folks are out awfully late. Where are you going?”

  Damn it. Not only had the car stopped, but it was an NOPD squad car. Unshed tears created pressure behind Shay’s eyes. If she was alone, she could be in that car and headed for safety. Nik might not survive a trip to the police station, though, and she wasn’t sure she could live with that—not if she hadn’t tried her best to save him. Plus, what could she tell them? I was kidnapped by vampires and impregnated so they can drink my baby’s blood and this vampire tried to help me. It probably wouldn’t fly.

  “We were at a party a couple of blocks away,” she said, her voice seeming too loud in the quiet night. “My boyfriend here had way too much to drink, so I’m walking him home.”

  The officer, a mid-twenties brunette with a heavy local accent, stuck his head out the window and gave Nik a hard look. Shay prayed he wouldn’t spot the sword. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride—you don’t need to be out in this area alone, and I don’t think your boyfriend’s gonna be much protection.”

  Awesome. A helpful police officer, no less. “It’s only another block,” she said. “It’ll do the jackass good to be in the fresh air. Might help sober him up.”

  The policeman laughed. “Lady, it’s gonna take more than fresh air to sober that one up. C’mon. Get in.”

  Nik managed to stand straighter. “I ain’t so drunk,” he drawled.

  The officer looked at them a few heartbeats longer, then shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just be careful.”

  “Thank you.” Shay even managed a smile, but mostly because the officer was leaving.

  “Damn, that was close. Glad you could join me, Nik.” Shay retrieved the sword, prodded him forward, and they got moving again.

  “Ungh.” Nik’s head lolled to the side and his weight grew heavier. His performance seemed to have exhausted his energy.

  Shay thought about what she knew of this neighborhood, which lay in an area called the Irish Channel because of all the Irish workers who’d moved in to build the network of wharves and docks and railroads on the river at the turn of the century. Commander’s Palace, where Shay liked to splurge on lunch once a year or so, lay a few blocks ahead of them on the other side of the narrow street. Across from it, directly ahead, lay their possible salvation. First they had to cross busy Magazine Street, which, she hoped, was not so busy right now.

  She kept her voice to a whisper. “Nik, as we walk, see if you can spot a hoe or a spade or a pry bar next to one of the houses.” Here, as in most older New Orleans neighborhoods, the houses were narrow and close together.

  “Hmm….Why?”

  “I have an idea.” They could break into a car and steal a pry bar or tire iron but that could take more time—and attract more attention—than they could afford. “We need something thin and strong that could be used to pry something open.”

  “Serd,” Nik mumbled.

  “What?
”

  He took a breath, frowned, and finally forced out the words. “Sword. Use the sword.”

  “You want me to stab you? No way in hell. We’ve gone to too much trouble to get you out of that warehouse.” Of all the boneheaded…

  “Use sword as pry bar,” he whispered. It seemed to have taken all his energy, because he sagged on her again, and both of them came close to face-planting on the sidewalk.

  Brilliant, though. The sword might be exactly what she needed.

  Dawn was coming fast, and Shay’s idea would either work or they’d have to crawl underneath one of these raised houses for the day and pray they weren’t found by hungry wharf rats, gun-toting drug dealers, or human vampire minions.

  They managed to cross Magazine Street, where none of the few drivers stopped at the red light offered to help. Drunks stumbling across Magazine were not so unusual.

  “Left here,” she huffed after another half block. Nik was as close to being dead weight as he could be while still on his feet.

  She reached out and prayed the iron gate next to them was unlocked, and prayed again when it swung open and they staggered inside. Shay looked up at the wrought iron sign that arched over the entrance: Lafayette Cemetery No. 1.

  Shay looked around her at the ghostly white city of aboveground tombs that seemed to almost glow beneath the lights from the street. She had the vampire. Now she needed the coffin.

  Chapter 18 * Nik

  Man, this was one bad case of the flu. Nik’s muscles ached, his head pounded, and his arms had sprouted a mountain range of chill bumps even though his skin radiated heat. His back was both ice and fire. And wet grass tickled his nose.

  Wait. Vampires didn’t catch the flu. Nik sat slowly, noting the wet scrape of grass against his cheek when he pushed himself up. Around him was row after row of marble and concrete crypts that had probably started out white but were now darkened with erosion and city grime and mold. A cemetery, and one of the old ones.

  Dawn hadn’t yet arrived, but it was close. Nik hadn’t spent that many predawn days as a vampire—two, to be precise, unless you counted when he was unconscious—but he recognized the lethargy. The piercing headache and burning skin was new. Then again, he’d never been outside so near sunrise.

  Where the hell was he? He rolled to his knees, then fell back again. It took three tries before he made it to his hands and knees, then his attempt to stand landed him on his face again. At least he was on grass instead of concrete.

  A woman’s voice reached him from nearby, speaking so softly he wasn’t sure he could hear her had he not been vampire. A steady scraping followed, much louder.

  It all came back to him then. Shay had gotten him out of the warehouse, although the details were fuzzy. He struggled to his hands and knees again and, this time, made it to his feet, lurching toward the nearest crypt to prop himself upright. Goodwin was etched into the marble, not exactly what Nik would consider an old New Orleans name.

  Rounding the row of vaults toward the voice, Nik stopped to read the sign: Lafayette Cemetery No. 1, Founded 1833. This cemetery is a fragile historic site. A list of forbidden activities followed, including sitting or standing on the tombs and making rubbings.

  Sawing on a tomb with a stolen vampire sword wasn’t listed, but Nik would bet that’s exactly what Shay Underwood was doing.

  He spotted her in a dark spot near the far end of the row of crypts—dark even with vampire vision. Shay was in the process of working the sword’s blade around the marble opening in the front of a crypt, which stood about five feet high and maybe four feet wide. Another six or seven feet deep.

  “Nik, thank God you’re awake. Do you think you can breathe in here?”

  Among the many facts Nik didn’t know for sure about vampires was the answer to that question, but he remembered hearing a story of Will and his mate, Randa, being buried alive in Penton’s collapsed underground shelter for hours, not breathing at all.

  “I don’t think it’s a problem.” He walked to stand behind Shay as she pried off the opening from the tomb and looked inside.

  “Oh, thank you baby Jesus there are no skeletons.” She turned to look him up and down. “Crawl in and see if you fit.”

  Nik looked inside the space, more worried about coffins than loose skeletons. He saw neither. In the far corners, along a marble shelf, sat an assortment of urns. He glanced at the name above the opening. “Thank God the Le Boeufs had the good grace to be cremated.”

  He dropped to his hands and knees and willed his aching muscles to crawl toward the back through the musty dirt. At least it was dry in here. One thing might make it work better.

  “I saw a blue tarp in front of one of the tombs on the next row with some flowers and stuff on it.” He thought it was only a couple down from the Goodwin crypt. “If you could bring that to me to wrap up in, it would give me more protection against the light even inside the crypt.”

  It also might help keep Shay warm. They were both soaked and while he didn’t care about himself—he’d be in daysleep—he didn’t want her getting hypothermia.

  “I’ll get it.” Shay jogged around the corner where Nik had crossed from the next row.

  He crawled to the back of the crypt and sat with his back propped against the shelf holding one of the Le Boeuf ancestors.

  Shay threw the sword in the crypt and came barreling in behind it, tugging the marble opening slab back in place with wet, fumbling fingers.

  “It’s Eric, one of Simon’s human guards. I saw him down on Washington, walking around and looking between houses. He didn’t see me, but he’s right by the gate. No way I could get to that tarp.”

  “It’ll be okay.” Nik sat up straighter. “Don’t guess you have a gun, do you?” He sure didn’t have the strength to wield that sword.

  Shay dragged a pillowcase from beneath her bulky sweater, reached in, and handed him his .45. “I also have Simon’s gun that the woman vampire left on the floor.”

  “Do you know how to shoot?”

  “Yes.” She checked the ammo clip in Simon’s pistol and snapped it back in like she knew what she was doing. “Eric is one of the human guards, so he can look for us all day. But he’s also lazy, so that works in our favor.”

  “Push the slab back out a little.” Nik took the sword and lay it next to him, along with his pistol. “You will need to breathe, even if I don’t.”

  Shay pushed on the left side of the marble door a fraction, then settled against the side wall of the crypt. She kept her voice to a soft whisper. “Will that be too much light for you?”

  “Hope not.” Truth was, Nik had no idea. Could vampires tolerate any daylight at all? Would a sliver of shadowy air from the outside hurt him? “But I need to make a call, and then I can tell you what to do if…” If he fried in daylight. “If this crypt thing doesn’t work.”

  “Make a call? Why didn’t you mention you had a freaking phone?” Shay’s voice rose. That was something else Nik remembered about Shay. She talked. A lot. She wasn’t on Glory Cummings’ level, but she could hold her own.

  He remember her being attractive, but he didn’t recall her being this sexy. That had to be his hunger talking. He needed to feed his aching muscles, but he could tell Shay was vaccinated. Plus, she was pregnant. Not an option.

  “And who would you have called, if you’d known I had a phone?” he whispered. “The police?” Nik felt around in his pockets and breathed a sigh of relief at finding his phone, its glass front still crossed with cracks from the bombing in Atlanta. A deep scratch now zigzagged down its back. Damned thing had survived a bombing, a vampire knife attack, and a dark escape through the New Orleans mean streets with a pregnant woman. He should offer to do a TV commercial.

  The battery was low and the signal barely there, but he hoped it would be enough. He had to catch Mirren before daysleep. He imagined the sliver of open air between the crypt and its marble slab had grown more gray than black. But he was still okay.

  The call r
ang through but no one answered. Damn it. Maybe he should call one of the humans. Gadget probably had the same mobile number he’d had in Houston.

  Nik was scrolling through his contacts when the phone vibrated, and a wave of relief washed over him when he recognized the big Scotsman’s number. “Mirren?”

  “It’s Glory. Nik, is this you? Why aren’t you in daysleep? Mirren’s already down. Are you all right? Are you in a safe space? When—”

  “Glory, wait.” No, Shay wasn’t on a par with Mirren’s mate, Gloriana Cummings, at all. Glory could outtalk anyone Nik had ever met. “Things went bad but we got the women out.”

  “I know.” He heard Glory talking to someone in the background, then she returned to the line. “Archer Logan and I are getting ready to drive to New Orleans now and get you all out of town as soon as it gets dark. Mirren talked to Robin about a half-hour ago. She and Cage are safe, but she thought you…”

  “I’m okay. I’m with Shay. She got me to safety. The other three women ran for it.”

  Static and banging sounded on the other end of the call, and Mark Calvert’s voice came on the line. “Talk to me now. Glory and Archer are on their way out. Glory told Robin they’d get there by noon and help her look for you and the women. Tell me where you are and I’ll pass it on.”

  “Lafayette Cemetery, the old one on Washington Avenue across from Commander’s. We’re hiding inside the Le Boeuf family crypt. Damn it, stop laughing.” Nik was sure he’d see the humor of hiding a vampire in a crypt later, but not yet. “Simon Landry’s human minions are prowling the area.”

  There was a long pause on Mark’s part. “Wait, why are you awake? You’re west of us but not that far west.”

  “I have no idea.” Nik rested his head against the marble. His brain felt as if it had grown tentacles that were spreading, ready to burst out of his skull at any moment and attach themselves to the crypt wall. His muscle aches reached all the way to his bones, and his skin burned like he’d been crawling through the deserts of Afghanistan. “I feel like shit, but I’m awake. Why is Glory coming? I can’t believe Mirren agreed to it.”