She drew her swords and grinned. Will do.
There’s just one more thing . . .
Chapter 17
Krysta confronted the vampires in the shadows where trees and buildings blocked the view of the mercenaries on the rooftops. Only one mercenary lurked nearby, tucked in the bushes several yards away.
Étienne wasn’t kidding about the camouflage. If he hadn’t told her the mercenary was there, then shown her with the scope, she wouldn’t have known it. Even his scent had been dampened so much that it was nearly undetectable.
The vampires stopped short when she halted in front of them.
Yeah. These guys weren’t right. Their eyes were glowing and she hadn’t even confronted them. Their longish hair was unkempt and greasy. Their clothing looked and smelled as though it hadn’t been changed in days and carried the odors of multiple blood types. Their breath alone could kill a person.
Gross. She did not want to know what—or whom—they had been eating.
Breathing through her mouth, she watched them take in her presence, her weapons. They presented an interesting contrast. Two of them constantly fidgeted and twitched. The other two stood deathly still, like twisted mannequins.
The last was a little creepy.
Don’t underestimate the still ones. They’ll be as fast as the others, Étienne spoke in her head.
You just do what you have to do and leave these clowns to me, she ordered.
They didn’t ask if she was an Immortal Guardian. They just attacked.
Krysta began to swing her swords. Her new speed, coupled with her ability to see their auras and anticipate their actions, made it seem as though they moved in slow motion. She struck with such unerring accuracy that they didn’t have a chance.
Don’t get cocky, Étienne warned.
I think you’ve said that before.
She killed them all with an ease that astonished her, earning only the most superficial of wounds herself.
The mercenary there in the bushes will try to tranq you now, Étienne warned. Act swiftly.
Sheathing her weapons, she raced toward the bushes in a zigzag pattern.
Sure enough, a damned dart shot past her, nearly nicking her ear.
Reaching through the foliage, she knocked the tranq gun from the mercenary’s hands, seemingly by accident, and yanked him out into the open.
He was younger than she had expected. Sean’s age. Maybe less. For some reason she had thought he would be older. Face rough-hewn and hard. Skin lined and leathery from too many hours in the sun.
This guy’s skin was smooth and clean-shaven.
Eyes wide, he reached for the tactical knife on his belt.
Krysta knocked it from his grasp and, clutching the front of his shirt with one hand, yanked him close. So close the automatic rifle hooked to the strap around his neck was forced to the side and back, out of reach.
“Run,” she ordered, calling upon all of her high school drama class lessons to present a facade of fear.
“What?” he asked as he pried at her hand.
“Run!” She unobtrusively planted a tracking device on his rifle, then grasped his shirt with both hands and shook. “While you still have a chance. He’s coming. He’ll kill you!”
“You’re one of them!” he spat, unable to break her hold.
“I was turned against my will.” She wished she could squeeze out a few tears, but wasn’t that good an actress. “I—”
“What are you doing?” Étienne demanded behind her.
The mercenary’s fear magnified as he looked over her shoulder.
Krysta released her hold on the mercenary and moved to his side.
When he gripped his rifle, she stayed him. “Don’t. You’ll just piss him off. Run!”
“What the hell are you doing?” Étienne demanded. Remember what I told you. Give it your all. He has to think it’s real. He charged toward her.
Heart stopping with dread, Krysta drew back her fist and swung with all of her preternatural might. Pain shot up her arm as her fist hit his jaw.
Étienne, with all of the flair of a stuntman in a freaking action-adventure blow-’em-up movie, flew backward and struck the wall of the building behind him with a grunt, then collapsed to the ground.
“Go!” she shouted at the mercenary, who gaped first at Étienne and then at Krysta.
He reached for the walkie on his shoulder.
She shook her head. “They’re all dead. I heard him kill them. It’s why he left me to fend for myself with those monsters who attacked me.”
He tried the walkie anyway and got nothing, his panic palpable.
Étienne rose with a groan, eyes glowing with what the mercenary no doubt took for promised retribution, but Krysta suspected was actually . . .
Was that desire?
She grabbed the mercenary by the shoulder and gave him a shove to get him moving.
Whatever it was, she didn’t want to have to hit Étienne again. Her hand was throbbing and she didn’t like hurting him. “Go, damn it!” she cried. “Run!”
“Come with me,” he said, shocking the hell out of her.
Either she was a better actress than she had thought or he wanted to score points with his superiors by capturing an immortal.
Shaking her head, she looked at Étienne. “He’ll catch me. He always catches me. And he’ll torture you for helping me.” She added a hitch to her breath and was pleased at how close to a sob it sounded. “Just go.”
He did.
As the mercenary’s feet pounded the pavement, Étienne stalked toward her. Hold your breath and tense your neck muscles.
She didn’t ask why, just did it.
Étienne wrapped the fingers of one hand around her throat and lifted her off her feet just as the mercenary’s footsteps slowed and he turned to look back.
Krysta wrapped her hands around Étienne’s wrist and kicked her feet, pretending to fight even as she used her new strength to push herself up and ease the pressure on her neck.
Étienne wrapped an arm around her and shot off into the night. The hold on her neck became a caress. Krysta took several deep breaths as the campus swept past. Étienne jumped. The ground fell away and she found herself on the roof of . . .
Actually Krysta didn’t know the name of this building. But they were still on campus and could see the mercenary in the distance.
Étienne set her down, drew out his phone, and dialed.
“Reordon,” Chris answered.
It was so odd to be able to hear both sides of the conversation without the phone being on speaker.
“It’s Étienne. We tagged a mercenary at UNC Chapel Hill. He’s fleeing the campus, heading south on foot. I need a cleanup crew to come collect the eleven dead or unconscious mercenaries he left behind.”
He hung up before Chris could say anything, pocketed the phone, and yanked Krysta into his arms. “I’m sorry. I had to make it look real. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No. It was just uncomfortable for a second.”
His arms tightened as he swore in French. (She was beginning to recognize some words now.)
“What about you?” she asked to distract him. “Am I wrong, or did my knocking the crap out of you turn you on?”
Leaning back, he summoned a sheepish smile and pressed his hips against hers to let her feel his arousal. “You weren’t wrong.”
“Really? Are you into the rough stuff?” She had never thought of trying that kind of thing herself.
“I didn’t think so,” he said with a baffled shake of his head, “But you were”—his glowing eyes grew brighter—“magnificent.”
“Hmm. Is this . . . something you want to explore? Sexually?” She wasn’t sure how that would work. She knew without trying it that hurting Étienne wouldn’t turn her on. And she sure as hell didn’t want him to hurt her. Pain tended to piss her off.
“Not really,” he said. “I just adore your strength and seeing you in action aroused me.” He hesitated. �
��I’d try anything you asked me to, though. In bed or out of it. I want you to be happy.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Let’s leave the pain on the battlefield.”
“Agreed.” He dipped his head and kissed her.
Her pulse leapt.
As he teased her lips with his tongue, she palmed his erection. “Want to do something about this while we wait for the cleanup crew to arrive?” She sure as hell did. She didn’t know if it was the adrenaline still coursing through her veins or just knowing that he wanted her, but she was already wet for him, her body tingling and desperate for his touch.
“That depends,” he whispered against her lips, leaning into her. “How do you feel about making love in front of an audience?”
“That’s not my thing either,” she admitted. She had never been an exhibitionist.
A throat cleared. “Then you might want to step away from my brother,” Richart drawled behind them, “so I won’t get an eyeful.”
Krysta yanked her hand away so fast you’d think Étienne’s crotch had caught fire.
Spinning around, she found Richart standing there with one eyebrow raised.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, face heating.
“Étienne summoned me while he was dealing with the mercenaries.”
Krysta glanced back at Étienne. “My, aren’t you the multitasker.”
“Forgive me. I forgot I called him as soon as you hit me.” And turned me on. You managed to scatter my thoughts quite efficiently.
She could understand that. The desire he had sparked in her had made her forget about the mercenaries he had left strewn who-knew-where. She smiled. “Okay. You’re forgiven.” Particularly since Richart’s sudden presence had doused her lust as efficiently as a fire hose.
Étienne raised the scope and looked around. “Krysta, would you keep an eye out for more mercenaries while Richart and I gather together the dead and unconscious soldiers?”
“Sure.” She took the scope.
He brushed a kiss across her lips, then motioned for his brother to follow him over the edge of the building.
Krysta raised the scope to her right eye and turned in a slow circle, searching the campus in all directions.
If you get bored, Étienne suddenly spoke in her head, feel free to talk dirty to me. Richart can’t hear you.
She smiled and did just that.
Sitting on his haunches, Zach took in the melee below. UNC Greensboro’s campus was quiet and deserted save the immortal warrior who battled five vampires down on the ground.
A rare smile lifted his lips.
She was magnificent, remaining in constant motion, swinging her blades with merciless intent.
The vampires Lisette fought had long since lost their grasp on sanity. Zach searched their thoughts easily, and the things they wanted to do to her sickened him.
A vamp got in a lucky strike.
Blood formed a glistening streak across the back of her long coat.
Zach rose and curled his hands into fists, an unfamiliar feeling sweeping over him.
The lucky striker went down and began to shrivel up. His friends trod upon him in slavering urgency.
Again she struck a killing blow. Another vampire fell.
A noise distracted Zach. Then a scent.
He searched the darkened campus with eyes that needed no infrared scope to pierce the deepest shadows.
Human males with automatic weapons closed in on Lisette’s location.
Mercenaries.
He hadn’t expected this. He had merely wanted, for reasons he couldn’t discern, to see her in action. He hadn’t wanted to see her captured.
The hours he had spent watching Seth and his little superheroes, coupled with the hours he had spent eavesdropping at David’s house, had revealed what these men would likely do to her if they caught her.
The last vampire fell. Breathing hard, she cleaned her blade on the shirt of one of the fallen vamps and sheathed her weapons.
The humans took their positions.
A dart struck her in her pale, vulnerable neck.
Wincing, she reached up to identify the source of the sharp pain. Alarm crossed her pretty face as she staggered. She pulled something that looked like a fat, white pen from her pocket and stabbed herself in the thigh with it.
The mercenaries closed in, forming a circle around her.
Lisette dropped the pen and straightened.
A tense moment passed. Then another.
Zach took a step forward.
Moving so fast she blurred, Lisette drew her Glock 18s and raced toward the building on her left.
Muffled gunfire erupted as she leapt up a couple of stories, pushed off the side of the building and landed on the roof of the building across from it.
The soldiers scattered as she sprayed them with bullets from above. Four went down as holes opened on their torsos.
She jerked, bullets tearing through her slender body as the mercenaries scored hits of their own, but didn’t cease firing or run away.
Zach clenched his teeth.
She couldn’t win. She wouldn’t win.
And she lacked the time to call her brothers for aid.
She backed up and crouched down. Ejecting the long clips from her weapons, she drew two more from a pocket of her coat and shoved them into place.
Zach had never handled a gun before and admired her smooth, sure movements.
Staying out of sight of the men below, she headed for the opposite side of the building and leapt to the ground.
The mercenary group divided into thirds. One third remained in place. The rest divided in half and began to circle the building on both sides.
Shit!
Lisette sped into the open, crossing to the next building, and sprayed the soldiers with bullets.
They jerked and fell to the ground, only getting off a few shots of their own.
Maybe he had been too hasty. Maybe she would actually come out the victor.
No sooner had the thought struck than a dozen more mercenaries entered the fray.
Lisette raced directly into their midst, wreaking havoc, breaking necks, cutting throats, and taking more bullets and tranquilizer darts.
The darts didn’t worry him. He had heard the immortals say the antidote prevented further exposure to the sedative from affecting them. But the bullet wounds . . .
Instead of healing, they continued to bleed, a symptom of the weakness infiltrating her and spreading within as she continued to lose blood.
His heart pounded. His breath shortened.
She was slowing down. Still fighting. Still slaying. But slowing down. Suffering more wounds.
The soldiers tightened ranks, again boldly encircling her.
He sensed no fear in her, only a determination to take out as many as she could before she breathed her last breath.
Well, fuck that.
Knowing the step he was about to take would forever alter his future, Zach released his wings and took to the air.
Panting, gritting her teeth against the pain, Lisette swung her shoto sword at the soldier in front of her and sliced open his chest.
How many were there? It seemed as though every time she slew one, two more took his place.
And she was weakening, moving almost as slowly as a human, losing the edge immortal speed and strength had given her.
A breeze coaxed some of her hair from its braid.
She felt a presence behind her.
The mercenaries all gasped and stumbled backward, looking over her shoulder.
Lisette spun around . . . and gaped.
It was him. The elder immortal she, Roland, and Sarah had interrogated.
Zach.
Facing away from her, he wore only low-riding dark leather pants similar to the ones he had sported when she had abducted him. His wings were stretched wide, their tips brushing the walls of nearby buildings.
More than one of the mercenaries crossed themselves.
&nbs
p; Zach waved a hand.
The mercenaries dropped their weapons to the ground with a clatter.
Lisette glanced behind her.
Yes. Those had dropped their weapons, too.
Dizziness assailed her.
She staggered, barely managing to remain on her feet. She had lost count of the number of times she had been shot.
Darkness threatened.
She couldn’t think, didn’t know what was happening.
Was Zach working with the mercenaries?
She stared at the back of his head, at his windblown, longish, raven hair.
“You,” he said, pointing at a soldier.
The mercenary stepped forward.
The elder immortal made a motion with his hand and closed it into a fist. The other mercenaries all collapsed to the ground, sightless eyes wide as they drew their last breaths.
Those beautiful wings folded in against Zach’s back.
He turned to face her.
Lisette tilted her head way back to look up at him. He was well over a foot taller than she was and she stood at five foot six.
“The tracking device,” he said, his glowing golden eyes locking on hers.
“W-what?” she rasped.
He held out a large hand, palm up. “The tracking device you’re supposed to plant on him. Give it to me.”
She dropped one of her beloved shoto swords and fumbled with the outer pocket that contained the tiny tracking device Chris had given her. Her fingers wouldn’t cooperate. She couldn’t even get the pocket open and it wasn’t buttoned.
Zach gently brushed her hand aside and tucked his own hand in the pocket. When he withdrew it, the tracking device was carefully pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
He waved the mercenary over.
The soldier approached robotically and waited patiently while the immortal picked up one of the discarded M16s, then attached the device to it.
Lisette wanted to protest when he handed the man the weapon, but couldn’t find enough breath for it.
“You saw neither of us tonight. Vampires attacked your squad and only you survived,” Zach said.
The mercenary nodded, then turned and jogged away.
Zach swiveled to face her.
“M-mind control?” she managed to ask.
He nodded.
Darkness Rises ig-4 Page 30
