Darkness Rises (Immortal Guardians) (7 page)

Even if he managed to lessen her desire to decapitate him, there was still the whole mortal-immortal thing. He wasn’t sure she was a
gifted one.
If her brother was her half brother, she may not possess the advanced DNA needed to transform without becoming vampire. Not that she would want to anyway because of the whole
I hate vampires
roadblock.

Étienne straightened.

Was he really trying to think his way into a relationship with a woman who wanted him dead? Was he
that
lonely?

Or was she just that irresistible?

Don’t answer that,
he warned himself and blamed all of the happy pappy lovestruck crap that had surrounded him of late for his current confusion. First Roland had fallen in love with Sarah, who clearly was delusional for thinking him sweet.

Then Marcus had found Ami. The jury was still out on whether or not their relationship was going to have a happy ending because Ami had not yet asked Marcus to transform her.

Richart had fallen hard for Jenna, who—Étienne was very pleased to note—made his brother
very
happy.

Even that bastard Bastien had fallen in love with and married Dr. Lipton.

The jangling of keys shook Étienne from his musings. He ducked out of sight as the front door swung open.

Krysta exited first, her shoto swords clutched in one hand, her coat in the other.

Étienne silently cursed as his pulse picked up its pace.

Sean exited next, carrying a pile of heavy books, and tromped down the stairs.

Étienne had learned from his shameless eavesdropping sessions (there had been more of those than he cared to admit in the two weeks he had been following her) that Sean was in medical school and usually studied in the car while she hunted.

Krysta’s eyes scanned the area as they crossed the yard to their crappy car.

Both doors groaned when pried open. And the damned engine barely turned over.

Though Krysta worked days and Sean weekends, freeing up the nights for hunting, they barely made ends meet.

Étienne had been tempted to call in the network to make all the repairs the car needed, but that would bring the sibling vampire hunters to Chris Reordon’s attention.

Not a good idea.

Étienne raced through the countryside, following the shabby vehicle and making sure forest, field, or structures always hid him from view.

Looked like they were heading for Duke tonight.

The hunt was on.

 

 

That’s right, dullards,
Krysta thought, mentally smiling as she used Étienne’s term,
come along, follow the poor, unsuspecting undergrad who doesn’t know you’re there because she’s busy drunk dialing her ex.

That one was always popular. There were times, in fact, when she could actually hear some of the vampires laugh over the crazy-ass things she said or shouted into the phone while staggering up the path. Perhaps, in another life, she could have been an actress.

There had been no vamp action around the frat houses tonight. Rather she had found them lingering in Research Park, waiting for an egghead to stumble out after working on whatever it was he or she researched until the wee hours.

Along the sidewalk, Krysta led them between two buildings, and into a darker area near the loading dock. She thought there had been lights back here the last time she had passed by. The vamps must have broken them, intending to feed on their victim where none would see.

Perfect.

Her heart began to pound, not with fear as she prepared to spin around and fight, but with anticipation. Étienne was nearby. She knew it. She could feel it. And she wasn’t going to let him snatch away her prize this time. She was going to confront the vamps before he had the chance.

Drawing her shoto swords, she spun around at the same moment Étienne appeared behind the vamps.

Ooh.
Six
vampires. Good thing he
had
come.

Étienne’s brows drew down in a frown as he met her gaze. “Damn it! You’re early!”

She grinned. “Nope. You’re late.”

The vampires’ faces went blank with surprise. Their gazes zigzagged between the two of them.

“Oh shit,” one said, his face filling with fear as he stared at Étienne. “An Immortal Guardian.”

Gasps from his vampire cohorts.

Another vampire looked at Krysta. “She’s human. She must be his Second.”

“
Bastien
has a mortal Second,” another said.

Who had a what now?

Krysta was given no time to ask.

Their faces contorted with fury. “Bastien the Deceiver!”

“Death to Bastien!”

“Kick their fucking asses!”

The vampires drew weapons and attacked.

Krysta inched backward and swung her swords as multiple orange auras shot toward her.

The vampires must think they would have an easier time killing
her
than they would Étienne.

Smart vamps.

Sucked for her, though.

Even as she struck lethal blows with her blades, slicing the throat of the first vampire to reach her, pain streaked through her thigh as another vamp’s blade cut into her flesh.

Krysta gritted her teeth and swung at the orange aura leaping away from her.

Score!
Tit for tat. She’d cut his femoral artery, the bastard!

Limping backward, she kept her swords in constant motion. Glowing orange auras swirled around her, so numerous that fear threatened to paralyze her.

She struck more blows, aiming at auras and hitting the flesh they preceded.

The vampires struck blows as well. Cuts stung her arms, back, legs. Just as she was silently celebrating a particularly good blow, one of the vamps circled around behind her and hit her in the head, landing a simple punch with his fist, backed by preternatural strength, that felt like a freaking anvil.

The world around her lit up with sparkly things that had nothing to do with auras. All strength left her limbs as agony pounded her head.

Krysta staggered. Her thoughts scattered.

Somewhere a lion roared.

The glowing orange auras surrounding her fell away as shining purple and white rolled through them like a bowling ball felling pins.

Krysta’s weapons clattered to the ground, her fingers unable to grasp anything but her aching head.

She sank to her knees.

“Krysta!”

Étienne wasn’t usually one to panic. Even as a mortal, when fighting, he had always kept his cool.

But seeing Krysta felled by a vampire’s fist . . .

“Krysta!” he called again, after severing that fist and leaving the vampire to bleed out.

His swords swung like the blades of a propeller, cutting through the vampires as though they were no more than air.

Had it been more than a glancing blow, wouldn’t she be down on the ground and either unconscious or dying from a fractured skull? Sarah had nearly died when Bastien had fractured
her
skull. Her ears had even bled.

Étienne tried to see if Krysta bled from her ears, but couldn’t take his eyes off the damned vampires.

Finally, the last vamp succumbed to Étienne’s swords.

Racing to Krysta’s side, he knelt before her and dropped his weapons. “Are you okay?” He clasped her shoulder with one hand and gently raised her chin with the other.

Her lovely face was pinched with pain. “I’m okay,” she gritted. “My head just hurts like a bitch. I think I might have a concussion. My vision is all fuzzy.”

Her pupils were a little dilated, too.

“What about you?” she murmured. “Are you okay?”

Shock, pleasure, and all kinds of things he refused to examine too closely flowed through him. “I’m fine. Hardly a scratch on me.”

“Must be nice. Help me up, will you?”

“Of course.” He helped her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her when she swayed.

“The bastards all came after
me
,” she complained, leaning into him.

Did she realize the trust she was placing in him?

He cleared his throat, trying to ignore how good it felt to have her tucked up against his side. “Vampires are often cowards and seek the weaker target.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I just meant—”

“I get it. I just don’t like it.”

“That I’m stronger than you are?”

“Yes. What’s an Immortal Guardian?”

Étienne swore silently. He had hoped she hadn’t caught that.

“A what?” he stalled, not knowing how to answer.

“You heard me. An Immortal Guardian.” Stepping away, she clung to his arm until she was steady, then released him and met his gaze. “The vampires called you an Immortal Guardian.”

His cursed mind went blank.

“They also called me a Second. What’s a Second?”

Still nothing. What had Roland told Sarah when faced with such questions?

“Who is Bastien the Deceiver?”

He swore aloud then. “Aren’t you supposed to have a concussion? How are you remembering all of this?”

“You’re stalling.”

Yes, he was.

Étienne paced away several steps. “I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you secrets that are not solely my own to share,” he tried to explain.

“So there are more like you.”

Étienne stared at her, wanting to trust her.

A sharp pain pierced his neck.

Wincing, he reached up, felt something protruding from the skin, and removed it.

“What’s that?” Krysta asked.

His blood went cold as he stared down at the tiny object his fingers clutched.

“Is that a tranquilizer dart?” she asked, voice full of confusion.

Yes, it was.
Merde
.

“Run,” he ordered as weakness began to infiltrate him.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This shouldn’t be possible.

“What?” She started to approach him.

Étienne shook his head. “Run!” He closed the distance between them, retrieved her weapons from the ground, and urged her toward the corner of the nearest building. “Call your brother. Choose a safe place for him to meet you a few blocks from here and run there. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. And don’t let anyone follow you home.”

“I don’t understand. What’s going on? Why is your accent getting thicker? What—?”

Another sting. Étienne yanked another dart from the back of his neck and swore foully. The shooters were definitely behind them.

His knees weakened. He didn’t carry the autoinjector containing the antidote anymore. He hadn’t thought there was a reason to. The human threat had been extinguished.

Hadn’t it?

“Please, Krysta. Just trust me on this. Go!
Maintenant!”

As his strength waned, he shoved her hard and turned to face his attackers.

 

 

Still dizzy, Krysta stumbled and fell to her hands and knees behind the building. The weapons Étienne had thrust into her arms hit the ground a moment before gravel abraded her palms.

What the hell?

Cursing, she dusted off her stinging hands, grabbed the weapons, and spun around, ready to blister his ears.

Étienne staggered, as if he had lost his balance. Turning back to face the way they had come, he gave her his profile. His eyes flashed a brilliant amber.

Bullets slammed into his chest, the guns firing them barely making a sound. His body jerked again and again as blood sprayed from too many wounds to count.

Krysta stared in horror. “Étienne!”

The first wave ended.

He turned his head, met her gaze. “Run, damn you!” he growled. Blood poured from his mouth and down his chin. Drawing his swords, he roared and leapt forward, out of sight.

Krysta’s feet glued themselves to the ground. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

He had pushed her out of the way to save her. If Étienne hadn’t shoved her behind the building, she would have been shot to death beside him.

Her body began to shake uncontrollably.

He could have run. He could have left her there for whoever the hell it was to kill her.

Screams lit the night. The gunfire resumed.

Krysta transferred one of her swords to her left hand, drew out her cell phone, and dialed with shaking fingers.

“Yeah,” her brother answered on the first ring.

“I need you,” she hissed. “Now. Behind . . . Shit!” It took her a moment to get her bearings. “We’re in Research Park behind . . . or on the side of that Environmental Whatever Building. Just find me. Come quiet and stay low. Someone’s shooting at us.”

“Just come now! Please! And hurry!”

Pocketing the phone, she drew in a deep breath (which wasn’t nearly as calming as she had hoped it would be), gripped her weapons, and headed for the edge of the building.

Crouching down, she peered around it.

Soldiers?

Men garbed in black camo and armed to the teeth with silencer-equipped automatic weapons were doing their damnedest to kill Étienne. Only they didn’t seem to actually want to
kill
him. They seemed to want to slow him down or weaken him with blood loss and whatever was in those darts.

And it was working.

Another dart hit Étienne in the throat even as he broke two soldiers’ necks.

He staggered, grabbed another soldier and sank his teeth into his throat.

Krysta’s mouth went dry.

She’d known all along he was a vampire, but seeing him drink blood . . .

The other soldiers evidently viewed their associate as expendable, because they continued to shoot.

Étienne used him as a shield while he drank and fired the man’s automatic weapon at the same time.

His victim sank to the ground, sightless eyes staring up at the sky.

Another dart struck Étienne in the arm.

He lurched sideways. Shook his head drunkenly.

Oh shit
.

There were still three soldiers left.

Two moved in for the kill or to capture him or whatever the hell the plan was.

Krysta dropped her swords and drew two daggers. Without giving herself time to think, she stepped into the open and let them fly. One dagger struck a soldier in the throat. The second sank into another soldier’s heart. The third soldier turned his gun on her and fired. She ducked behind the building and hit the ground. Brick and mortar showered down on her as the high-caliber bullets passed right through the building.

A yelp split the night.

The bullets stopped.

“Krysta!”

Relief poured through her at the raspy call, bringing tears to her eyes. “Étienne!”

Scrambling to her feet, she peered around the corner of the building.

Every soldier was down.

Étienne still stood. Barely. Blood saturated his clothing. Dozens of holes perforated his shirt and coat and pants.

He stumbled forward a step and dropped to his knees.

As Krysta limped toward him, she looked around, praying no more soldiers would leap out of the darkness and start shooting.

“C-call your brother,” he wheezed. Fumbling in his pocket, he muttered something in French.

Just as she reached him, he collapsed backward onto the pavement.

Something clunked to the ground by his hip. A cell phone.

“He’s on his way,” she said, kneeling beside him. “Can I call someone for you?”

She picked up his phone and heard the telltale squeak of their car’s brakes, though her brother approached as quietly as he could.

Étienne closed his eyes and mumbled something else in French.

“I don’t understand.” Damn it. Why hadn’t she studied French in high school?

“Krysta?” Sean whispered.

“Over here!” she hissed as loudly as she dared, terrified that more men might be lurking nearby.

Nearly silent footsteps approached. “Oh shit,” her brother swore. “What the hell?”

“Come help me,” she ordered. Tucking Étienne’s phone in his coat pocket, she scooted around to cup his broad shoulders.

“Those don’t look like vampires,” Sean said as he joined her, his eyes on the fallen soldiers.

“They aren’t. They’re humans, and they tried to kill us.”

“Us?” He looked down at Étienne. “Is that . . . ?”

“Yes. Grab his feet.”

“No way. He’s a vampire.”

“And he saved my ass. Again. Come on. Grab his legs. We need to get the hell out of here before more of
those
guys come along.”

Étienne’s head lolled as they hefted his heavy form and began carting him to the car parked behind the building.

“Is he dead?” Sean huffed.

Étienne wasn’t disintegrating, so . . . “No. They drugged him with something.”

“And shot him all to shit?”

“Yes.”

“Who the hell are they?”

“I don’t know. But
he
does. As soon as he saw the tranquilizer dart . . .” She shook her head. “He knew what was coming.” Crap, he was heavy. “I didn’t hear anything or see anything. All of a sudden he just shoved me behind the building. Then they opened fire and he fought them.”

“Why didn’t he just run? They’re human. They’d never catch him. And they can’t shoot what they can’t follow.”

She met his gaze and said nothing.

“What? You’re saying—”

“He fought them to buy me time to get away. They would have killed me, Sean. They would’ve shot me, too. They
tried
to shoot me.”

He looked as confused as she felt.

Together they managed to cram Étienne’s long, muscled body into the backseat.

Sean slammed the door. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Wait.” Running back to the soldiers, she paused and swallowed hard. Creeping forward, she leaned down, grasped the bloodied handle of one of her daggers, and yanked it out of the dead soldier’s throat. The other’s lifeless eyes seemed full of accusation as she pulled her dagger out of his chest.

When she turned around, she found Sean staring at her somberly.

“Krysta, did you . . . ?”

She couldn’t meet his gaze. Limping forward, she circled the car. “Just get us out of here.”

The silence that filled the car as they drove away hurt more than her throbbing head did.

Tonight she had done something she never would’ve thought she could do. Something she didn’t know how she could justify.

Tonight she had killed humans to protect a vampire.

 

 

“He’s too long for the futon. Put him on my bed.” Krysta raced for the bathroom while Sean carried Étienne into her bedroom. Grabbing the vinyl shower curtain, she yanked it down and hurried after him.

“Wait.” She jerked the top covers back, spread the curtain over the bed to protect the mattress from bloodstains, covered it with a sheet, then stood back. “Okay.”

Sean dumped Étienne on the bed.

Étienne didn’t move.

“Are you sure he’s still alive?” Sean asked.

Biting her lip, Krysta leaned down and pressed two fingers to Étienne’s blood-slick throat. A long moment passed in which her heart slammed against her ribs and Étienne’s didn’t appear to do anything at all. “I don’t feel anything.” Throat thickening, she feared she might burst into tears.

Had he died protecting her?

Sean said nothing. Face impassive, he moved to the opposite side of the bed, bent over, and felt for a pulse himself.

Minutes passed. Krysta didn’t know how many. But with each, she felt shakier inside and more ready to scream with panic and regret and everything else building inside her.

“He’s alive,” Sean pronounced. “His pulse is so slow he would be declared dead in a hospital, but it’s there.”

Despite her attempts to stop them, a few tears spilled over her lashes. Krysta sank onto the side of the bed, all of her aches and pains making themselves known in a big way now that she wasn’t completely distracted.

“Before we get into what happened tonight,” Sean said as he strolled around to stand before her, “tell me where you’re hurt.”

She scrubbed her hands down her face and hoped he hadn’t noticed the tears. “My head is the worst. I think I might have a concussion.”