Archer's Lady: Bloodhounds, Book 3 (18 page)

“Jake followed you,” he told her. “But not before he filched one of my grenades. That’s what dropped.”

“Oh, Jake.” She lifted her hand to touch Archer’s cheek. “What about the town? Did you and Diana reach them before anything happened?”

“They’re safe. They’re—”

“All going to die.” A hammer cocked somewhere behind Archer, and he barely had time to duck and cover Grace’s body with his before a bullet hit the wall beside them.

The vampire rose from the rubble. He was charred on one side of his body and missing an eye, but as Archer watched, his skin began to knit back together. He dragged his tongue over his charred lower lip with a hoarse laugh. “How fortunate I had fresh blood. She’s delicious.”

“You son of a bitch.” Archer rose, dropping one hand to rest on the butt of his revolver. “There’s not enough blood in the world to heal you up from the hurt I’m going to put on you.”

William raised his revolver and fired over Archer’s head, into the ravaged ceiling. Bits of debris rained down, and Grace cursed softly.

The entire building creaked, and William smiled. “Move carefully, hound. You and I will survive the rest of this building coming down on us. Your sweet little liar, on the other hand…”

“Won’t make it out of here anyway if I don’t take you out.” Grace was still trapped, but Archer could buy them time. “Gonna argue with that?”

Without answering, William lunged to the side and aimed his revolver at Grace.

Pulling his own gun, aiming—it all felt like one motion, his own body instead of machined metal in his hand. The trigger yielded under his finger, and the round exploded from the barrel.

Time seemed to slow as the bullet split into a dozen fragments, each burning to a bright glow as it raced toward the vampire. The first pierced his skin, then the second—light,
pain
. Not enough to kill, maybe.

But enough to stun.

Archer launched himself at William with a roar, lashing out with a rough kick that drove the vampire back in a wild stumble. William recovered a heartbeat slower this time, his revolver coming up in a sluggish motion. “I’ll kill you both. I’ll bury her just to spite you.”

“No, you won’t.” Another kick sent the vampire’s gun flying, and Archer grabbed him by the shirt collar and slammed him against the wall. “Because you’re too in love with the sound of your own goddamn voice.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Archer saw Grace drag herself carefully to her feet, her weight partly braced on the overturned table. “He does like to ramble on. He told me how they found out about Doc and what they were after.”

“Good.” Archer wasn’t that stupid. He snatched William up, as if he planned to slam him against the wall one more time, but grabbed his head instead. One quick snap, and the vampire let out an unearthly shriek.

He didn’t dissolve into dust or even melt into the floor like some Archer had seen. Instead, he began to
vibrate
.

“Oh, shit.” Archer backed toward Grace and tumbled her to the floor beneath him. The magic that sustained William in his half-life exploded outward, blowing his body into fine mist.

Underneath Archer, Grace buried her face against his throat with a whimper. “Archer?”

“I know,” he said soothingly. “I hate the ones that pop.”

Her laugh bordered on hysterical. “I need a bath, Archer. I know you’re going to yell at me, but please let me take a bath first.”

“I’ll get you out of here.” He rose and lifted her carefully. “Everything else can wait.”

She looked at the broken base of the stairs. “How are you—”

That was all he gave her time for. With her body tucked to his chest, he scrambled over debris and made the leap for the stairs as Grace gasped and hid her face against his shirt. The steps groaned under the force of his landing, but he shot up the remaining length and vaulted over the broken floorboards while Grace clung to his shoulders.

When they cleared the front door, Grace let out a sigh of relief. “You’d think it would be impossible, but somehow I keep forgetting that you’re not just a man.”

The words drilled into him like a bullet. “So long as you don’t hate me when you
do
remember what I am…I’ll be all right.”

“No,” she whispered, lifting her gaze to his. “I mostly just love you all of the time.”

She was hurt. Behind them was a house on the verge of collapse, filled with dead vampires. Ahead of them lay the hardest road he’d ever considered walking, and still only one thing mattered.

He shifted her weight in his arms, touched her cheek and grimaced when he smeared her skin with even more blood and dirt. “This isn’t the place, and it’s sure as hell not the time,” he muttered, “but I think I need to kiss you.”

Grace leaned in until her lips almost brushed his. “Jake’s watching.”

“Jake’s already going to get his ass whupped for tossing a grenade at your head.”

“Go easy on him. He kept me alive long enough for you to save me. Lord knows I’d botched the job.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “I couldn’t convince the vampires that I hated you.”

“Good.” His arms tightened around her, and he gave her the one thing more important than a kiss—the truth. “If anything had happened to you, it would have killed me.”

She didn’t understand, not really. She smiled and stroked his cheek. “Me too.”

“I
mean
it.” He gripped her hand but hesitated, looking down at her ripped skirt. “Your leg?”

“Sore, but I don’t think it’s badly injured.” Her expression sobered as she studied his face. “You really do mean it, don’t you? Literally.”

Not a conversation for other ears. He cleared his throat. “Your horse, Jake?”

The boy surreptitiously wiped his cheeks. “Hidden back over the ridge.”

The tears pricked Archer’s conscience, though perhaps not as much as they should have. Not with Grace covered in bleeding scratches and staring up at him like she wanted to ask a million questions but couldn’t quite order her thoughts. “Go get her. We’ll wait.”

He ran off, and Archer took a deep breath. “It hurt,” he confessed finally, laying everything bare. “When I thought you might be gone. Not as much as it should have, though, which is how I knew I had to get to you. I knew you weren’t dead. I felt it.”

Her eyebrows came together. “You mean…magic?”

“I don’t know.” He never would have thought of it in such flowery terms. “The Guild calls it science, chemical reactions. But it sure feels like more.”

“Yes, it does.” Her thumb brushed across his lower lip. “I’m done being a coward. I don’t care what sort of life a bloodhound can offer, I want it. I’ll be a lady or a thief or a beggar, whatever it takes to be yours.”

At first, the surge of sheer primal satisfaction overrode everything else. Then Archer remembered the look in her eyes that first morning in the stable, the shame that had burned in them, but also the defiance as she told him she wasn’t leaving after all.

“Being alive isn’t much of a blessing if you can’t live with yourself.”

“The town,” he rasped. “You can’t leave Crystal Springs. You’ll never forgive either of us.”

“I’m damned either way, because I’d never forgive myself if I let you go.” Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead to his chin. “I choose you.”

His hands were shaking, and he steadied them by weaving his fingers through her hair. “You’re my mate. Anything you want, it’s yours. I’ll find a way to stay here if that’s what you need.”

“I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice a quavering whisper. “Would your Guild even allow it? I won’t ask you to betray your duty. And I don’t want you in danger.”

He snorted. “I don’t give a great horned goddamn what they’ll allow. They’d toss me to the wolves if it suited them.”

“And if you stayed?” She tilted her head back to meet his eyes. “Could you be happy here? There’s always danger this close to the border, but this town doesn’t need a bloodhound. It needs a leader.”

Only a week earlier, he would have scoffed at the notion that anyone could need him, much less a whole town. He wasn’t cut out to be an upstanding citizen, much less a leader. At least, he hadn’t been.

The Guild had pulled him from his deathbed, given him a second chance at life. He hadn’t used that chance very well, especially not compared to Grace. “You walked away from the parts of yourself you didn’t like,” he murmured. “You came here, and you became the person you wanted to be. I want to do that too.”

Grace’s brilliant smile shone brighter than the stars as she dragged his head down and kissed him.

Chapter Twelve

Grace started awake at the first loud knock against her bedroom door, but was still blinking sleepily when it swung open and Diana stormed in.

“Shit,” she hissed. “Archer, get up. Your boss is here.”

He groaned and rolled over. “My what is what?”

“Your boss.” The thundering voice came from beyond Diana, from a tall, dark man who glowered at them over her shoulder.

Archer made sure Grace was covered, moving lazily in spite of the tension she could feel in him. “Wilder Harding. You’re late to the party.”

“Story of my life.” He slanted a glance at Diana and shook his head. “What the hell’s going on here?”

As if Grace wasn’t self-conscious enough, a second man edged through the door, took one look at the blanket that was the only thing preserving her modesty, and turned abruptly to stare at the opposite wall. “Wilder, I’m sure we can wait downstairs. Archer knows you’re here now, and I doubt he’s planning to crawl out the window to avoid speaking with you.”

“Not going to crawl out any windows, but I might kick his ass,” Archer snarled through a challenging grin.

Wilder thumped the brim of his hat higher and pointed at Archer’s clothes, draped across a chair by the bed. “Downstairs. Two minutes.” Then he stormed out.

Diana rolled her eyes and turned to follow, but smacked into the second man. “Sorry, you go ahead.”

He gripped the door and shook his head. “No, after you, Miss…”

Grace found her voice. “Diana. And if it’s not too much trouble, could the two of you take care of your introductions in the hallway?” She gave Diana a pleading look. “With the door closed?”

“Got it.” She grabbed the man by the arm, shoved him ahead of her into the hallway and slammed the door behind them.

Grace collapsed back against the bed and covered her face. One thing stood out about the way the man—Wilder Harding—had studied Diana. “You didn’t tell them about her, did you?”

Archer dragged on his trousers and reached for his shirt. “Figured it could wait. Oops.”

“He seemed irritated.” She pushed the blanket back and stared down at her battered body. None of the cuts had been severe, but her legs and torso were a patchwork quilt of bruises in blues and purples. She jerked the covers back up before Archer could catch sight of them in the daylight and get distracted. “Who was the man with him? Another bloodhound?”

“No, that was Nate. Nate’s…complicated.” He sat down to pull on his boots. “I know Wilder seems upset, but there’s a good reason for it. He’ll calm down once I explain.”

Shifting to the edge of the bed, Grace pressed a kiss to the back of his neck before reaching past him for her chemise. “Can I come with you? Or will that make it worse?”

He caught her hand and spilled her around to his lap. “Anything he has to say to me is your business too.”

She laughed and brushed a kiss on his chin. “I should probably get dressed first. For everyone’s sake.”

“Mmm, and if you take your time, you can miss most of the yelling.” He eased her to the bed and began buttoning his shirt as he walked out the door.

It seemed like a joke, but when she hurried down the stairs in her hastily donned dress, still struggling to wrestle her hair into a braid, she heard Wilder’s raised voice before she reached the dining room.

“And when I tell you to keep in touch, I mean
keep in touch
.”

“I sent what news I could before the telegraph lines were cut,” Archer replied mildly.

“And her? You failed to mention—”

“Diana. That’s my name.” Grace came into the dining room in time to see her friend’s spine stiffen. “And I asked him not to send word about me.”

The quieter man spoke up, addressing Wilder. “I’m just as glad he didn’t say anything over an unsecured telegraph line. A female bloodhound could cause too much excitement in all the wrong quarters.”

“Don’t be reasonable with me, Nate,” he snapped. “I’m not in the mood.”

Nate’s gaze swept over Diana before settling on Grace, and the inhuman blankness in his eyes struck her low in the gut as a twisting warning. Whatever this man was, he wasn’t entirely human.

No one in the room was human. No one except for her, and she had the feeling Nate, at least, thought she shouldn’t be standing among them.

He confirmed it a moment later by clearing his throat. “Perhaps this is a discussion best held in private.”

Archer snarled again and stepped between them. “She stays. Whatever you have to say or ask, Grace is a part of this.”

Wilder sighed heavily. “Just start at the beginning. What did you find?”