Darkness Rises (Immortal Guardians) (8 page)

Sean closed his eyes a moment, then cupped his large hands around the back of her head. Seconds later, they heated and the pain slowly disappeared. “What else?” he asked, teeth clenched against the pain that now bombarded him.

“Nothing that can’t be patched up with Band-Aids, butterfly closures, and a few stitches.” Healing the head wound would have taken enough out of him that any cuts or gashes he healed on her now would open on his own body. She wouldn’t let that happen. After the mess she had just brought down on their heads, she wouldn’t make him bleed, too.

“Go shower. I’ll stitch you up when you get out.”

Nodding, she grabbed some clean clothes from her dresser. “Do you want to lie down for a while?” His head must be killing him.

He gave her a grim smile. “I can’t. Someone needs to watch our
guest.
”

Krysta said nothing.

What
could
she say? She had just welcomed one of the vampires she had sworn to kill into their home and placed them both in danger.

Heading into the bathroom, she closed the door.

The hot water stung her open cuts like salt, making her want to scream as she hurried through her shower. The most she would permit herself, however, was a grunt or two.

Damn, it hurt!

And rushing things didn’t help. She couldn’t be careful with wounds when she was dragging a rough, soapy washcloth across them as quickly as possible because she feared what her brother might do to Étienne if she took too long.

Or what Étienne might do to Sean, if she weren’t there when he awoke.

If
he awoke.

She barely took the time to dry off before hurriedly donning a sports bra, tank top, panties, and shorts. Leaving her hair to air-dry in whatever tangled mess it had acquired, she grabbed a smaller towel, held it to the thigh that still bled sluggishly, and hobbled back to her bedroom.

Sean had dragged one of their sagging director’s chairs into the room and sprawled in it, his gaze shifting from the television to Étienne and back.

He didn’t look up when she entered. “Nothing on the news yet.”

Jeeze. She hadn’t even thought of that. But how could what had happened tonight
not
make the news? A dozen or more soldiers killed in what would be deemed a firefight on an elite college campus?

Just what kind of soldiers had those men been? Military? SWAT?

Crap. What if surveillance cameras had caught it all on tape? She knew where most of the cameras on the various college campuses were positioned and lured vampires
away
from them so she could destroy them without witnesses. But cameras could have caught her going into the loading area just before the fight broke out. They could have caught her and Sean loading Étienne into the car and fleeing the scene.

What had she done?

“You need to tell me what happened tonight,” Sean said in a low, don’t-fuck-with-me voice. “All of it. And you need to tell me everything else that has been going on.” His gaze went to Étienne, then rose to meet hers. “Because you’ve clearly been holding out on me.”

And he deserved more than that. After all he did for her, all he sacrificed for her . . .

Nodding, Krysta started to sit on the side of the bed.

“No. Sit here. I need to see to your other wounds.”

She hadn’t even noticed the first-aid bag on the floor beside him.

Krysta crossed to him and turned her back to show him the wound in her thigh as he rose.

“What is it with vampires and hamstrings?” he muttered as he knelt behind her and went to work.

It seemed to be one of their favorite places to strike.

“I don’t know.” She gritted her teeth as he began to stitch the wound.

“So?” he prodded.

“He’s been following me.”

“The vamp on the bed?”

“Yes. Ever since the first night I encountered him, he’s been following me and taking out the vampires I lure away before I can engage them.”

“That’s why you haven’t come home battered and bloodied lately?”

She nodded. “He kills the vamps before I can even draw my weapons.”

A pause. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t know. Not for sure. Not until last night. I knew vampires were following me, I was sure they had taken the bait. But when I spun around to confront them, they were gone just like on the other nights. I heard the sounds of a struggle a few blocks away and ran like hell to see what was happening.”

“You
what?
”

“By the time I caught up, there was nothing but a pile of clothes. He had already killed them.”

Quiet enfolded them as Sean stitched. It must have been a longer and deeper cut than she had supposed.

“I confronted him. Goaded him into showing himself.”

“Brilliant,” he groused.

She’d let that slide, knowing worry spawned it.

“Did he say
why
he killed them?”

“He said he was protecting me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know.”

“He’s a vampire and you’re a vampire hunter.”

“I know.”

He finished torturing her with the needle and applied a bandage.

Exhaling a deep sigh of relief, Krysta turned around and sank gingerly into the chair. “He wanted me to stop hunting. He said it was too dangerous and couldn’t believe I’ve been doing it for so long without getting myself killed.”

“
I
can’t believe you’ve been doing it so long without getting yourself killed.”

“Smart-ass.”

He grunted.

“He said he’s been hunting vampires himself for two hundred years, Sean.”

He glanced up at her as he retrieved some butterfly closures. “Two hundred years?”

“Yes.”

“Why would a vampire hunt other vampires? Is it a territorial thing or something?”

“He said it wasn’t, but wouldn’t go into it. And tonight . . .” She didn’t want to think about it.

“What the hell happened, Krysta?”

“I played my usual
Victim Here
role, lured some vampires behind the building where you found us, and confronted them before Étienne could snatch them away.”

He nodded at their guest. “I assume he’s Étienne?”

“Yes. They called him an immortal guardian, and thought I was something called a second.”

“What the hell is that?”

“I don’t know. But they were afraid of him and pissed at him all at the same time. And I can see why. There were six vampires and he took out most of them with no help from me and
again
saved my ass. Then, all of a sudden, someone shot him in the neck with a tranquilizer dart.”

“Vampires can be sedated? Shit. I didn’t even think of that.”

“I didn’t either. As soon as he saw the dart, Étienne told me to run and shoved me behind the building. Then the soldiers you saw appeared and shot him all to hell. They would have killed me, Sean, if he hadn’t saved me. If he had run, they would have come after
me
. But he stayed and fought and took those bullets so I would have time to get away.”

He sat back. “I don’t understand. Why would a bunch of human soldiers want to kill
you
, another human? I mean, if they’re vampire hunters like you, wouldn’t they want to protect you?”

“I think they believed I was a second—whatever that is— like the vampires did. Either that or they wanted
him
and thought I was expendable. Hell, maybe they thought I was his Renfield.”

“Shit.”

“I know.”

“If he wanted to save you, why didn’t he just toss you over his shoulder and run?”

“Maybe he was already too weak. Or maybe he was afraid they’d shoot me before he could get us out of range. Or maybe he just wasn’t thinking straight because of the drug.”

He went back to work. “And your daggers?”

How had they ended up in the throat and heart of two human men?

“I couldn’t let them kill him or capture him after he sacrificed himself to protect me.”

Sean sighed. “Were they military?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t identify themselves. Didn’t shout,
Halt! Don’t move! Police! Army! SWAT!
Nothing. They just opened fire.”

Zipping his bag closed, Sean sat back on the floor. “What a mess.” He dragged his hands down his face. “I can’t think straight. My head is fucking killing me.”

Guilt suffused her, as it always did when he suffered physical pain after healing her wounds.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked wearily. “What are we going to do with Count Chocula over there?”

“I don’t know.”

Rising, Sean stared down at the unconscious vampire. “Immortal guardian,” he muttered.

“That’s what they called him.”

“His wounds aren’t healing. He probably needs blood.”

“Well, I’d kinda like to keep mine where it is, particularly since I lost some tonight.”

He loosed a tired laugh. “Yeah. Me, too. I guess I should patch him up since he saved your stubborn, reckless ass.”

“I was hoping you would.”

Krysta helped him remove Étienne’s coat, weapons, and shirt.

Both swore when they saw just how many bullet holes he sported.

Krysta didn’t know how he could still live. The vampires she usually hunted often died from blood loss. And Étienne had lost a
lot
of blood.

They moved on to his shoes and pants.

Sean’s lips twitched.

“What?” she asked as she tugged off a heavy boot.

“Did you know your boy here’s ringtone is “I Feel Pretty”?

She frowned and smiled at the same time. “What?”

“His phone rang while you were in the shower.”

As if on cue, a female voice filled the air, singing, “I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! I feel pretty and witty and gaaaaaay!”

Laughing, Krysta retrieved Étienne’s phone from his pocket and opened it just as it stopped ringing.

“It must have gone to voice mail,” Sean said, peering at it.

“If it rings again should I answer?”

“And bring another vampire down on our heads? I don’t think so. At least not yet.”

They stripped Étienne down to a pair of black, silk boxer shorts.

Although he had a beautiful body, trim and rippling with muscle, Krysta had a hard time admiring it. Blood coated nearly every inch of him, having poured from
so
many bullet holes. Even his legs were littered with them.

Sean swore.

Krysta nodded.

None of the wounds still bled. Neither did they heal. Some of the holes even appeared to still contain the lead that had carved them.

“We need soapy water and some towels,” Sean said, staring down at his patient. “A butt-load of them.”

Krysta nodded. It was going to be a long night.

 

 

Lisette nibbled her thumbnail as she stared at the unconscious immortal male wrapped in titanium chains. Apparently he hadn’t yet awoken, so Roland and Sarah were off hunting while Lisette took second watch.

Lisette didn’t know who the mysterious immortal was, but he fascinated her.

He lay on the floor where Roland had dumped him, his wavy, raven hair shielding much of his face. A face she had not minded staring at in the least these past few weeks as she had spied upon him.

He was strikingly handsome. And so somber. Sad almost. Or maybe lonely? Ami always managed to lure a smile from him, even if only a small one.

Her eyes strayed to his wings. Those beautiful wings.

Only a few feathers peeked out from the blankets and chains.

Was
he an immortal? Or was he something else? Something a little more . . . angelic?

She hadn’t posed the question to the others, knowing how ruthlessly Roland would have mocked the notion. But the idea just wouldn’t leave her.

Easing closer to the male, she cautiously leaned in and sniffed his neck.

His scent was . . .

She sighed.

So good. He smelled like she remembered her father’s country estate used to when she was a girl. Like spring rain. Fresh and clean and new.

She smiled. With a hint of the fruity lollipops Ami had given him last night.

What she
didn’t
smell on him was the virus. Which didn’t necessarily mean anything. As Roland had pointed out, she couldn’t smell it on Seth either. Or David. Or some of the other elder immortals who had lived a great deal longer than she had.

Her gaze returned to his wings.

Still . . .

Her cell phone chirped.

Jumping, she shook her head at herself and stepped back from the captive as she retrieved the phone.

“
Oui?
” she answered when she saw it was Richart.

“Have you heard from Étienne tonight?”

“No. Why?”

“He was wounded earlier, judging by the pain I felt, and I haven’t been able to reach him.”

The twins had always referred to the unique bond they shared in much the same way the fictional character Adrian Monk described his own ability: It was a gift . . . and a curse.

It sucked that they felt each other’s pain. And only pain. They never felt each other’s pleasure, which—now that she thought of it—would be awkward now that Richart had wed and made frequent love to his wife.

The bond
did
come in handy, however, in times like this when one might be injured and require aid.

“Did you try Cam?” Surely Étienne’s Second would know something.

“Cameron hasn’t heard from him and is making discreet inquiries.”

“Why discreet?”

“I don’t know. Something’s been going on with Étienne, something he’s been keeping from us. You’ve noticed how distracted he’s been.”