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Authors: Dianne Duvall

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BOOK: Darkness Rises (Immortal Guardians)
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Wrapping one hand around the man’s throat and lifting him onto his toes, Étienne drew a tranquilizer dart—one with a human dose—from one of his pockets. “You wanted me,” he growled as the man fought his hold. “You got me.”
He shoved the dart into the man’s throat. The soldier had just enough time to realize what had happened and wet himself before he passed out.
Étienne dropped him and drew out his cell phone as he stepped off the roof.
“Oui?”
Richart answered.
Étienne landed nimbly on the ground. “Mercenaries are attacking us at UNC,” he said, whisper soft. “Meet me at the northeast corner of Chapman Hall.”
Richart appeared a few feet away.
Étienne pocketed his phone and swiftly filled his brother in telepathically.
Drawing his weapons, Richart stared at him as they headed toward the larger group of mercenaries and came up behind them.
You left two vampires guarding Krysta? Are you out of your fucking mind?
I hope not.
The mercenaries approached the entrance to the alley. Had they not all been edging forward with caution, they would have already reached it.
While Étienne dashed toward their front, blocking their entrance, Richart teleported directly into the middle of the group.
Étienne grinned as chaos erupted.
On the other side of Sitterson Hall, screams of pain split the night as the vampires went to work on the other group of mercenaries.
Étienne tore into the soldiers, trying to read the minds of those he killed or wounded. Most were so full of fear and hatred—almost as much hatred as he encountered in a vampire’s mind—that he couldn’t discern their leader’s name or the name of their PMC.
Bullets and tranquilizer darts flew in every direction. When one hit Étienne, he administered the antidote without missing a beat. The soldiers began to panic as their numbers dwindled and started taking out each other with friendly fire as they swung their weapons in wide arcs, trying to hit anything that moved.
Étienne lost count of the mercenaries they fought and wondered how the hell Chris would clean up something this big on a college campus. They were damned lucky it was often deserted this late.
Three mercenaries broke for the alley.
Étienne started after them, then stopped and resumed fighting when he heard Krysta fire her tranquilizer gun.
He heard one of the three vamps he had sent after the other contingent fall to a tranquilizer dart. The other two started to freak out and considered bolting.
Hold it together,
he ordered sternly, remembering Tanner—Bastien’s Second—telling them that the vampires Bastien had led had all feared him.
Fall back into the alley so the others can help you, but do
not
let any of the soldiers harm the woman. Fail me in this or flee the battle and I will torture you myself when I hunt you down.
He was actually a bit surprised when that snapped them out of it.
Several bullets slammed into his back.
Bastards. Étienne spun around and swung a sword at the shooter. No,
two
shooters.
Are you leaving any alive?
Richart asked dryly.
Ummm . . .
Richart laughed.
Ah, hell. Krysta has run out of darts and is leaping into the fray in the alley.
Go to her. I have this.
Another quick head count yielded few enough soldiers left here that Étienne felt comfortable leaving his brother to face them alone. Because of his gift, Richart tended to fare far better than other young immortals when facing large numbers.
Étienne raced into the alley.
Half a dozen soldiers fought there.
All four vampires remained in perpetual motion as they darted in and out and around the men, delivering cuts and gashes and fatal wounds.
Krysta hung back, a sword in the hand of her uninjured arm, waiting for an opportunity.
The vamps parted. She darted in and swung, slicing through an arm wielding a tranquilizer gun, then jumped back as one of the vamps circled around again.
Damned if it didn’t look like they were all working together. Krysta must be wondering if Hell had frozen over.
The last two soldiers gave up on following orders and trying to bring them down alive. Planting their backs to each other, they opened fire with their silencer-equipped automatic weapons. Once again, panic shot through Étienne.
Krysta
.
The smaller of the two vamps he had left guarding her tackled her and took her to the ground, covering her body with his. The other three vamps and Étienne were hit with bullets as Étienne rushed forward and cleaved the soldiers’ heads from their bodies.
Both dropped to the ground.
Stark silence engulfed them, broken only by the harsh breaths of Étienne and the vampires.
Richart appeared beside him. The vampire covering Krysta clambered to his feet. Krysta rose and, staring at the vamp in utter disbelief, sidled over to the d’Alençons.
Four vampires—bleeding from multiple wounds, standing side by side, hands still clutching weapons—faced them.
The silence stretched as all waited for action.
“Thank you,” Krysta said to the one who had taken several bullets for her.
He nodded once, jaw clenching, hand not loosening its hold on his blade.
She glanced at Étienne. “Now what?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’ve never gotten this far before.” Only Bastien had ever successfully recruited vampires.
Speaking of which . . .
He sheathed one of his weapons, drew out his phone again, and dialed.
“What?” Bastien answered.
“It’s Étienne. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I have a situation and could use your help.”
Bastien grunted. “I bet that hurt.”
“Where are you?” Étienne asked, refusing to take the bait.
“In Melanie’s office at the network.”
“Richart is on his way.”
He pocketed his phone and met his brother’s gaze. “He’s in Melanie’s office.”
Nodding, Richart vanished.
The vampires gasped.
“How does he do that?” the Tar Heel asked. According to his thoughts, his name was Jeremy. He seemed to be the most lucid of the group.
“Stick around and you’ll find out.” Étienne looked at the vamp on the far right, who was considering bolting. “Don’t run. You won’t get far and having to chase you will piss me off.”
The vampire swallowed.
“Now, all four of you did me a solid,” he went on, then looked to Krysta. “That’s a saying, right?”
Though her pretty face was pinched with pain, she smiled. “Yes.”
He returned his attention to the vamps. “All of you did me a solid, so you can relax and stop worrying about me attacking you.”
Jeremy’s shoulders loosened a bit. “What about Kenny?”
“The one felled by the tranquilizer dart?”
“Yes.”
“I’m good with him, too.” Satisfied that the vamps were in line, he carefully pulled Krysta into a hug. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, leaning into him. “Do you think Richart could take me home to Sean while you guys work out whatever it is you’re going to do?”
He swore. “I should have had him do that first.”
She shook her head. “I would have missed out on the hug.”
One of the vamps—Ben, according to
his
thoughts—leaned toward another and whispered, “Is it me or does this look like it’s about to turn into a chick flick?”
Krysta laughed, then grunted in pain.
Étienne put just enough distance between them to peel off her coat.
She growled at the agony it caused.
“I’m sorry. I want to make sure you aren’t losing too much blood.” The bullet that had struck her arm had thankfully missed her brachial artery. The wound in her shoulder still bled sluggishly, but didn’t look too bad.
Draping her coat over her shoulders, he drew her into his arms again.
Richart reappeared with Bastien at his side.
The vamps tensed and eyed the two anxiously.
Bastien’s eyebrows rose. “I’ll be damned. He wasn’t bullshitting me.”
“Richart,” Étienne said, “would you take Krysta to my place so her brother can heal her?”
“Of course.”
Releasing her, Étienne touched a finger to Krysta’s chin and tilted her head back so he could lower his lips to hers for a soft kiss.
“Chick flick,” Ben whispered in a singsong voice.
Krysta smiled. “That one’s a keeper.”
Shaking his head, Étienne stepped back.
Richart touched her shoulder and whisked the two away.
Bastien sighed. “When Richart returns, have him take you, too.”
Étienne opened his mouth to protest. They had quite a mess to clean up.
Bastien held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” He glanced at their vampire audience. “And a cleanup crew is on the way to take care of the rest, most likely with Reordon to oversee them. So do it. Everyone here can see that you want to be with her.” He raised his eyebrows at the vamps.
They nodded.
“It’s totally obvious,” Jeremy said.
“So obvious,” Ben agreed.
Étienne sighed. He really did want to be with her, so he would trust Bastien this time.
Jeremy shifted. “Who’s the new guy?”
“Someone with whom I thought you might feel more comfortable,” Étienne said. “Sebastien Newcombe.”
They stared, then exchanged amazed looks.
“Sebastien as in Bastien?” Jeremy asked. “
The
Bastien, who raised and led an army of vampires in war against the immortals?”
“Yes,” Bastien responded. “But I don’t like to brag.”
Étienne sighed and motioned to the vamps. “Bastien, meet our new recruits.”
The vampires all relaxed. Apparently, they were new enough that they didn’t consider him Bastien the Deceiver as the crazier ones did.
“There’s a fifth around the corner there. He was tranqed while helping us hold off the mercenaries,” Étienne added.
“I’m Jeremy,” Tar Heel proclaimed eagerly.
Bastien smiled and offered his hand. “Good to meet you.” He shook hands with the other vamps next, the action requiring each of them to sheath their weapons.
The man knew how to handle vampires.
Richart returned. “Sean’s healing her.”
“Thank you.”
Would you be okay wrangling Bastien and the vampires by yourself?
he asked mentally.
Of course. I used to hunt with him, remember?
Right. Étienne had forgotten.
A familiar passenger van full of network guards sped down the street and turned into the alley. A low rumbling told the immortals a bus full of cleaners followed more slowly.
Once more, the calvary had arrived.
Good timing, too. Cam must have lit a fire under their asses to get them here so fast.
Network guards approached, armed and alert, Chris at their forefront.
“The mercenaries are all either dead or down,” Étienne informed them. “There’s one on the roof there.” He pointed. “The rest are on the ground.” He motioned to their vampire audience. “These wise vampires have agreed to join us. Bastien will aid you with them. Richart will fill you in on the rest when he returns.”
“Where’s he going?” Chris asked, issuing orders to his men with hand signals.
“Krysta was shot twice and is at my home, being healed by Sean. Richart is going to take me to her, then return to offer his assistance, along with an accounting.”
“Okay.”
Étienne hesitated. “Really? You aren’t going to bitch and moan about me not sticking around?”
“No. I’ve seen how you guys are with your girlfriends.”
Étienne didn’t bother to deny it this time. Hell, he
wanted
Krysta to be his girlfriend.
“Go ahead and take off. I’ll handle things here.”
Étienne frowned. “Don’t forget to check them for tracking devices.”
“I won’t.” Chris left to inspect the damage.
“Ready?” Richart asked.
He nodded.
Richart touched his shoulder. UNC’s campus dissolved into Étienne’s living room.
“Where is she?” Étienne asked.
“In Lisette’s room,” Richart said. “You need blood first.”
A thud sounded downstairs. Krysta cried out.
Étienne raced for his sister’s bedroom and barreled through the open doorway.
Sean was on the floor beside the bed, Krysta and Cam kneeling beside him.
Krysta looked up when Étienne entered, tears in her eyes. “He collapsed after healing me.”
Étienne nudged Cam aside and lifted Sean onto the bed. Blood stained Sean’s shirt on his shoulder. Étienne tore the neck of Sean’s T-shirt and pulled it down to confirm Krysta’s wounds had opened on him.
All
of them by the looks of it.
“He’s never collapsed before,” she said on a sob. “Is he dead?”
Étienne shook his head. “He’s alive.” But he had expended all of his energy to heal her and, as a mortal, may now be incapable of healing himself. Étienne turned to Richart as he entered. “Get Roland.”
Richart grimaced and drew out his phone. “I’ll call Seth first. Roland tries to kill me whenever I teleport to his home.”
“Still?”
He nodded. “I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t so good at dodging flying daggers.” He dialed and held the phone to his ear.
Étienne took Krysta’s hand and drew her up against his side. “He’ll be okay.”
She shook her head, tears spilling over her lashes. “He warned me so many times that I might kill him.”
Étienne wrapped both arms around her trembling form. “He isn’t gong to die, Krysta.”
“Maybe not
this
time, but . . .”
BOOK: Darkness Rises (Immortal Guardians)
12.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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