Dark Angel; The Chosen; Soulmate (38 page)

The way he'd made Quinn understand that Quinn had to be a vampire, Rashel thought. The way he'd made Quinn understand that humans were the enemy.

She was shaking all over, but there was a white-hot fire inside her that burned through the fear.

“Was there a reason for killing my mother?” she said.

The golden eyes turned toward her. Hunter looked mildly startled. Beside her, Quinn's head jerked around.

“I was only five, but I remember it all,” Rashel said. She took a step closer to Hunter. “You killed her just like
that
—snapped her neck. Was there a reason for killing Timmy? He was four years old and you drank his blood. Was there a reason for killing my great-aunt? You set a fire to get me, but it got her.”

She stopped, staring into those predatory golden eyes. She'd searched for this man for twelve years, and now he didn't seem to recognize her. “What's wrong, did you hunt too many little kids to keep track of?” she said. “Or are you so crazy you believe your own public image?”

Quinn whispered, “Rashel…”

She turned. “I'm sure. He was the one.”

In that instant, she saw Quinn's face harden implacably against the man who'd made him a Redfern. His eyes went
dark as black holes—no light escaped. Rashel suddenly had the feeling of glacial cold. Look into eyes like that and what you saw alone might kill you, she thought.

But she had her own fire inside her, her own vengeance. The knife was in her waistband. If she could just get close enough…. She moved toward Hunter Redfern again. “You destroyed my life. And you don't even remember, do you?”

“I remember,” the little shadow beside him said.

And then the world flipped and Rashel felt the floor slipping away from her. The child behind Hunter was walking into the light—and suddenly she could smell plastic and old socks, and she could feel vinyl under her hands. Memories were flooding up so quickly that she was drowning in them.

All she could say was “Oh, Timmy. Oh, God, Timmy.”

He was standing there, just as she'd seen him last, twelve years ago. Shiny dark hair and wide tilted blue eyes. Except that the eyes weren't exactly a child's eyes. They were some strange and terrible combination of child and adult. There was too much knowledge in them.

“You left me,” Timmy said. “You didn't care about me.”

Rashel sank her teeth into her lip, but tears spilled anyway. “I'm sorry…”

“Nobody cared about me,” Timmy said. He reached up to take Hunter's sleeve. “No humans, anyway. Humans are vermin.” He smiled his old sweet smile.

Hunter looked down at Timmy, then up at Quinn. “It's
amazing how quickly they learn. You haven't met Timmy, have you? He's been living in Vegas, but I think he can be useful here.” He turned to Rashel and his eyes were pure evil. “Of course I remember you. It's just that you've changed a little; you've gotten older. You're different from us, you see.”

“You're weak,” Lily put in. She had stepped forward, too, to stand beside her father. Now she linked her arm in his. “You're short-lived. You're not very bright, and not very important. In a word, you're…
dinner.
”

Hunter smiled. “Well put.” Then he dropped the smile and said to Quinn, “Step away from her, son.”

Quinn moved slightly, closer to Rashel. “This is my soulmate,” he said, in his softest and most disturbing voice. “And we're leaving together.”

Hunter Redfern stared at him for several long moments. Something like disbelief flickered in his eyes. Then he recovered and said quietly, “What a shame.”

Behind Rashel there were noises of stirring. It was as if a hot wind from the savanna had blown in, and the lions had caught its scent.

“You know, I was already worried about you, Quinn,” Hunter said. “Last summer you let Ash and his sisters get away with running out on the enclave. Don't think I didn't notice that. You're getting lax, getting soft. There's too much of that going around lately.”

Stand back to back,
Quinn told Rashel. She was already
moving into position. The vampires were forming a ring, encircling them. She could see smiles on every face.

“And Lily says you've been strange these last few days—moody. She said you seemed preoccupied with a human girl.”

Rashel drew her knife. The vampires were watching her with the fixed attention of big felines watching their prey. Absolute focus.

“But the soulmate idea—that's really the last straw. It's like a disease infecting our people. You understand why I have to stamp it out.” Hunter paused. “For old time's sake, let's finish this quickly.”

A voice that wasn't Quinn's added in Rashel's mind,
I told you I'd see you later.

Rashel stood on the balls of her feet, letting Hunter's words slide off her and drip away. She couldn't think about him right now. She had to concentrate on awareness, open her energy, and free her mind. This was going to be the biggest fight of her life, and she needed
zanshin.

But even as she found it, a small voice inside her was whispering the truth. There were simply too many vampires. She and Quinn couldn't hold them all off at once.

A fighter knows instinctively when there's no chance. But Rashel planned to fight anyway.

And then she noticed something wrong.

The vampires should have caught it first. Their senses were sharper. But their senses were turned inward, focused on the victims in front of them. Rashel was the only one whose senses were turned outward, alert to everything but focused on nothing.

There was a smell that was wrong and a sound. The smell was sharp, stinging, and close by. The sound was soft, distant, but recognizable.

Gasoline. She could smell gasoline. And she could hear a faint dull roar that sounded like the fireplace in the gathering room—but was coming from somewhere else in the house.

It didn't make sense. She didn't understand. But she believed it.

“Quinn, get ready to run,” she said, a gasp on a soft breath. Something was about to happen.

No, we have to fight—

His thought to her broke off. Rashel turned to look at the doorway.

Hunter Redfern had moved into the gathering room—but there was
someone
in the hall. Then the someone stepped forward and Rashel could see her face.

Nyala was smiling brilliantly. Her small queenly head was high and her dark eyes were flashing. She was holding a red gasoline can in one hand and a liter of grapefruit juice in the other. The bottle was almost full of liquid and had a burning rag stuffed in the top.

Gas. Gas from the pump on the wharf, Rashel thought. A Generation-X Molotov cocktail.

“It's all over the house,” Nyala said, and her voice was lilting. “Gallons and gallons. All over the rooms and the doors.”

But she shouldn't be hanging
on
to it, Rashel thought. That bottle is going to explode.

“You see, I
am
a real vampire hunter, Rashel. I figure this way, we get rid of them all at once.”

And the house is already burning….

Behind the carved screen on the right side of the room, ruddy light was flickering, growing. The faint roar that had disturbed Rashel was louder now. Closer.

And everything's
wood,
Rashel thought. Wood paneling,
wood floors. Frame house. A deathtrap for vampires.

“Get her,” Hunter Redfern said. But none of the vampires charged toward Nyala with her about-to-explode bottle of death and her can of fire accelerant. In fact, they were backing away, moving to the perimeter of the room.

Hunter spun to face Nyala directly.
You need to put that down,
he began in telepathic tones of absolute authority—at the same time Rashel shouted, “Nyala,
no—
”

The sound of telepathy seemed to set something off in Nyala. Flashing a dazzling savage smile, she smashed the grapefruit juice bottle at his feet.

With almost the same motion, she threw the gasoline can, too. It was flying in a graceful arc toward the fireplace, spinning, spilling liquid, and vampires were scattering to try to get out of the way.

And then everything was exploding—or maybe
erupting
was a better word. It was as if a dragon had breathed suddenly into the room, sending a roaring gale of fire through it.

But Rashel didn't have time to watch—she and Quinn were both diving. Quinn was diving for the floor past Nyala, trying to drag Rashel with him. Rashel was diving for Timmy.

She didn't know why. She didn't think about it consciously. She simply had to do it.

She hit Timmy with the entire force of her body and knocked him to the floor. She covered him as the fire erupted
behind her. Then she scrambled to her knees, her arm locked around his chest.

Everything was noise and heat and confusion. Vampires were yelling at each other, running, shoving each other. The ones who'd been splattered with gas were on fire, trying to put it out, getting in one another's way.

“Come on!” Quinn said, pulling Rashel up. “I know a way outside.”

Rashel looked for Nyala. She didn't see her. As Quinn dragged her into the hall, she saw dark smoke come billowing from the dining-room area. The hall was bathed in reddish light.

“Come on!”

Quinn was pulling her across the hall, through the smoke. Into a room that was full of orange flames.

“Quinn—”

Timmy was kicking and struggling in Rashel's arms. Yelling at her. She kept her grip on him.

And she went with Quinn. She had to trust him. He knew the house.

She hadn't realized how frightening fire was, though. It was like a beast with hot shriveling breath. It seemed
alive
and it seemed to want to get her, roaring out at her from unexpected places.

And it spread so fast. Rashel would never have believed it could move so quickly through a house, even a house soaked
with gasoline. In a matter of minutes the building had become an inferno. Everywhere she looked, there was fire, smoke, and a horrifying reflection of flames.

They were on the other side of the room now, and Quinn was kicking at a door. His sleeve was on fire. Rashel twisted her hand out of his and beat at it to put it out. She almost lost hold of Timmy.

Then the door was swinging outward and cool air was rushing in and the fire was roaring like a crazy thing to meet it. She was simply running, in panic, her only thought to hold on to Timmy and to stay with Quinn.

They were out. But she smelled burning. And now Quinn was grabbing her, rolling her over and over on the sandy unpaved road. Rashel realized, dimly, that her clothes were on fire in back.

Quinn stopped rolling her. Rashel sat up, tried to glance at her own back, then looked for Timmy.

He was crouched on the road, staring at the house. Rashel could see flames coming out of the windows. Smoke was pouring upward and everything seemed as bright as daylight beneath it.

“Are you all right?” Quinn said urgently. He was looking her over.

Rashel's whole body was washed with adrenaline and her heart was pounding insanely. But she couldn't take her eyes off the house.

She stumbled to her feet. “Nyala's in there! I have to get her.”

Quinn looked at her as if she were raving. Rashel just shook her head and started helplessly toward the house. She didn't want to go anywhere near it. She knew the fire wanted her dead. But she couldn't leave Nyala in there to burn.

Then Quinn was shoving her roughly back. “You stay here. I'll get her.”

“No! I have to—”

“You have to watch Timmy! Look, he's getting away!”

Rashel whirled. She didn't have any clear idea of where Timmy might be getting away to—but he was on his feet and moving. Toward the house, then away from it. She grabbed for him again. When she turned back toward Quinn, Quinn was gone.

No—there he was, darting into the house. Timmy was screaming again, kicking in her arms.

“I hate you!” he shouted. “Let go of me! Why did you take me out?”

Rashel stared at the house. Quinn was inside now. In that holocaust of flame. And he'd gone because of her, to save her from going herself.

Please, she thought suddenly and distinctly. Please don't let him die.

The flames were roaring higher. The night was brilliant with them. Fire was raining in little burning bits from the sky,
and Rashel's nose and eyes stung. She knew she should get farther back, but she couldn't. She had to watch for Quinn.

“Why? I hate you! Why did you take me out?”

Rashel looked at the strange little creature in her arms, the one that was biting and kicking as if it wanted to go back into the burning house. She didn't know what Timmy had become—some weird combination of child, adult, and animal, apparently. And she didn't know what kind of future he could possibly have.

But she did know, now, why she'd brought him out.

She looked at the childish face, the angry eyes full of hate. “Because my mom told me to take care of you,” she whispered.

And then she was crying. She was holding him and sobbing. Timmy didn't try to hold her back, but he didn't bite her anymore either.

Still sobbing, Rashel looked over his head toward the house. Everything was burning. And Quinn was still inside….

Then she saw a figure silhouetted against the flames. Two figures. One holding the other, half carrying it.

“Quinn!”

He was running toward her, supporting Nyala. They were both covered with soot. Nyala was swaying, laughing, her eyes huge and distant.

Rashel threw her arms around both of them. The relief that washed over her was almost more painful than the fear.
Her legs literally felt as if they had no bones—she was going to collapse at any second. She was tottering.

“You're alive,” she whispered into Quinn's charred collar. “And you got her.” She could feel Quinn's arm around her, holding hard. Nothing else seemed to matter.