Phantom Shadows (14 page)

One. Two. Three. Four.

Bastien tipped to one side and started to fall over, but caught himself by tripping over to the sofa and bracing a hand against it.

Nine. Ten.

Releasing the auto-injector, he let it fall to the floor.

“Well?” Cliff asked, all of the worry she couldn’t see in his face there in his voice.

“I don’t think it’s working.” He closed his eyes. “All I feel is the tranquilizer weighing me down.” His words slowed and slurred.

Melanie hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t considered that there might be
no
reaction. That it wouldn’t do a damned thing.

She patted Cliff ’s arm. “You can let me go now.”

Giving her shoulders a soft squeeze, he released his hold and stepped back. “I’m sorry. Bastien asked for my help. After all he’s done for me, I couldn’t say no even though it scared the hell out of me.”

She nodded and started forward.

Bastien’s knees buckled.

Cliff leapt over the sofa and caught him. Looping one of Bastien’s arms around his shoulders, Cliff guided him around to sit on the sofa.

“You don’t feel anything at all?” Melanie asked.

He shook his head. “Do you have any more?”

“Bastien—”

“Get it. Maybe the dose isn’t strong enough.”

He leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees, and let his head droop.

A thousand thoughts racing through her mind, Melanie left the apartment and dashed across the hall to the lab.

“Everything okay, Doc?” one of the guards outside Cliff ’s room called out behind her as she swiped her card and entered the security code with trembling fingers.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? Because you look a little . . .”

The buzz sounded.

Melanie threw the door open and hurriedly retrieved the other two auto-injectors.

It hadn’t worked. The stimulant hadn’t worked. Why hadn’t it worked? She hadn’t been exaggerating when she had said she wouldn’t use it on a comatose elephant. Any human injected with it would die. Quickly.

But Bastien had felt nothing.

Closing her door, she walked swiftly to Cliff ’s apartment.

“Rattled,” the guard said.

“What?” she asked absently.

“You look a little rattled. Are you sure—?”

“I’m fine.” She forced a smile. “It’s just been one of those days. Nights.”

His expression remained doubtful. “Well, we’re here if you need us.”

“Thank you, Mark. I appreciate that.”

Once inside the apartment, she closed the door and circled the sofa. “Any change?”

Cliff shook his head.

Bastien raised his head and held out his hand.

When Melanie started to remove the cap for him, he stayed her.

“I have to be able to do it myself.”

She handed him the auto-injector.

His fingers were clumsy as he removed the green cap, then pushed the auto-injector into his thigh and held it for ten seconds.

Melanie held her breath.

“Anything?” Cliff asked.

“I think so.” He held out his hand. “Give me another one.”

“You need to give that one more time. It could—”

“I won’t have more time in a fight. Give me another one.”

She handed him the last one.

He had no difficulty uncapping this one.

Despite her concern, she felt a twinge of hope.

He pressed this one into his thigh, too. Held it for ten seconds.

He was right. Ten seconds was too long. Now that she had a better idea of what dosage she should use—an insanely strong dosage—she could cut that time in half.

Bastien tossed the auto-injector on the coffee table and stood. “Okay. It’s getting better. I don’t feel so sluggish now.” Nudging Melanie aside, he stepped away from the sofa and started meandering around the room.

After all of the anxiety that had riddled her over testing the new drug, she couldn’t help but find this a bit anticlimactic.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than Cliff blurred and shot across the room, tackling Bastien and slamming him into the far wall.

Melanie’s heart stopped.

Bastien grunted, then flew into motion.

As Melanie watched, eyes wide, mouth gaping, artwork crashed to the floor, along with piles of drywall. The warring vampire and immortal were indistinguishable as they zigzagged with astonishing speed around the living room, smashing furniture and trashing the apartment to a chorus of grunts, thuds, and curses.

Melanie looked around frantically for some way to stop this. She couldn’t alert the guards. Though, if this racket continued, she wouldn’t have to. As much as they loathed Bastien, they would probably just yank her out of the way and open fire, not caring who they hit or how many times they hit them. And Melanie didn’t want either man hurt.

She jumped out of the way when the sofa splintered.

Had the vampires been allowed fully functional kitchens (too many sharp
and
blunt objects that could be used as weapons), she would’ve gone old school, grabbed a frying pan, and knocked some sense into the two. Aside from that . . .

Her gaze fell upon the bar stools. The vampires were allowed snacks and cereal and the makings for sandwiches, as well as a bar at which they could eat them.

Melanie ducked as the battling duo flew past overhead. Racing over to the bar, she picked up a stool—wooden with a black padded seat—and headed for the center of the room. The next time the writhing, growling, nebulous mass neared her, she concentrated on anticipating their direction and swung. Hard.

Thud!
The seat went flying as the wooden stool broke apart, leaving one long leg in her hand.

Bastien slowed to a halt, bent over, and grabbed his head. “Ahh! Shit, that hurt!”

Cliff halted, too, then ducked as Melanie swung the last leg. “Wait! Don’t stake me!”

“Get back, Cliff,” she warned, heart racing, hands clutching the wooden leg so tightly she was surprised splinters didn’t break off and pierce her skin. “Just stay back.”

She eased between the two men, her back to Bastien.

Cliff ’s eyes glowed bright amber. Holding out his hands in a
take it easy
gesture, he retreated. “Don’t hit me. I’m not crazed.”

She shook her head, not taking her eyes off him. “Your eyes are glowing.” She would have to swing as soon as he blurred. And as close as he was, she still might not be able to hit him.

“If my eyes are glowing, it’s because I’m having fun.”

“I bet you are.”

“Not like that. Not like you’re thinking. This is the most exercise I’ve had since you performed all of those strength and endurance tests on me a couple of years ago. It just felt good to be active again.”

“Active? You attacked Bastien!”

“I told him to,” Bastien spoke behind her.

She risked looking at him over her shoulder. A large red lump graced the center of his forehead. “What?”

“I told him to attack me.”

She lowered the wooden leg and stared at him. The lump in his forehead darkened with a bruise, then began to heal and fade. The fear that had sent adrenaline coursing through Melanie’s veins turned to icy fury. “You
what?
” she roared.

Uncertainty furrowing his brow, Bastien looked at Cliff. “Should I tell her again?”

“I wouldn’t,” the vampire advised and wisely took another step backward.

Bastien met her gaze. “I needed to know if I could hold my own in a fight after using the antidote. If my breathing would be affected or my heart . . . how long it would take to regain my strength and speed.”

Unbelievable!
Melanie threw the wooden leg down. “So you planned all of this?”

“Yes,” Bastien answered.

“Both of you.”

“Yes.”

“Without consulting me.”

He shared another look with Cliff. “Yes.”

“Well, next time send me a fucking memo first!” Melanie shouted, incensed. Here she stood, shaking, thinking Cliff had experienced one of the sudden violent episodes that had begun to afflict Joe, that Bastien would hurt him or even destroy him, or that Cliff would hurt or destroy Bastien while he was still weakened from the drug . . . and the two men in question looked like a couple of kids who had been wrestling on the floor in front of the TV while watching Saturday morning cartoons!

Cliff ’s eyes widened.

“What?” she growled.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “I’ve just . . . never heard you drop the F-bomb before.”

“Well get used to it because now that I’ll be spending more time with
him
”—she jerked a thumb in Bastien’s direction—“you’ll probably be hearing it a lot more.”

“Now wait a minute,” Bastien said, all levity fleeing. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t see each oth—”

“You just blew any chance you had of ditching me by injecting yourself three times with an experimental drug I thought would kill you,” she snapped. “Now I have to monitor your ass for at
least
twenty-four hours. So congratulations! You’re stuck with me!”

Chapter 6

Bastien really should be more upset about being
stuck
with Melanie than he was—which was not at all—but, damn it, he liked her. And with her face flushed with fury, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths beneath her long-sleeved shirt, and every word emerging a shout . . .

“She’s hot when she’s pissed, isn’t she?” Cliff asked in a voice too soft for her to hear.

Bastien flung daggers at him with his eyes. “Watch it.”

“Oh, please. As if you weren’t already thinking it yourself.”

“That doesn’t mean I want
you
thinking it,” he grumbled.

“And
that
,” Melanie said, pointing at the two of them, “stops right now. No more whispering. No more secrets.”

“Sorry,” Cliff said sheepishly. “Bastien was just saying he thinks you’re hot when you’re pissed.”

Bastien swore.

“I don’t care what he—” Melanie began, then cut her own rant short. Her face went blank with surprise. “What?”

“Cliff—” Bastien warned too late.

Cliff was already saying with a broad I’m-lovin’-this grin, “He thinks you’re hot when you’re angry.”

She squinted her eyes at Bastien as though trying to peer into his thoughts.

“What?” he bluffed. “You can’t take this guy’s word for anything. He’s insane.”

Cliff laughed. “You can’t use that excuse yet, dude.”

Melanie frowned. “Don’t joke about that.”

Cliff shrugged. “If I don’t joke about it, I’ll . . .”

“What?” Bastien posed. “Go crazy?”

Both men grinned.

Melanie rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.
Both
of you.”

The door buzzed, then opened. Several of the guards out in the hallway peered inside.

“Everything okay, Doc?” one with short blond hair asked, face full of suspicion as he took in the damage.

“Everything’s fine, Mark. Just . . . a little experiment.”

Bastien scowled at the man. “It took you
this
long to check on her?”

Granted, he wouldn’t have wanted an interruption earlier. Such would have no doubt resulted in both Bastien and Cliff being riddled with bullet holes and Melanie could have been caught in the crossfire. But if Joe or Cliff had had a psychotic break and attacked Melanie, a response this slow would not have saved her. She could have been drained before they even punched in the security code.

Mark stiffened. “Look, we hear all kinds of weird shit coming from these rooms. It’s hard to determine what’s harmless and what might be a problem.”

“Then don’t waste time guessing. As soon as you hear something that might signify violence, open the damned door and see what’s going on. Cliff and Joe may be annoyed by the intrusion, but both understand the necessity of it.”

Cliff nodded.

Bastien knew from his visits that Cliff ’s biggest fear now was that he might lose it and hurt Melanie. He hadn’t had any violent outbursts thus far, but none knew when those might begin.

And Bastien was finding it harder and harder to read Joe. As his madness had progressed, he had withdrawn into himself, rarely interacting anymore with Cliff, keeping his distance from Bastien and Melanie.

Bastien would never have asked Joe’s aid in tonight’s experiment for just that reason.

Mark looked at Cliff. Bastien was surprised there didn’t seem to be any animosity in his expression. The security staff here at the network apparently liked the vampires in residence a hell of a lot more than they did Bastien.

“The invasion of privacy is annoying,” Cliff said, “but I would rather deal with that than risk your not being here if I . . . if something happens and Dr. Lipton needs you.”

Mark nodded, his gaze full of both respect and compassion.

Good guy. Bastien almost regretted having broken both of the man’s arms and giving him a concussion a few weeks ago.

The security team withdrew and closed the door.

“I’m surprised Chris didn’t tell them to barge in at every little sound,” Bastien told Melanie.

“He did,” she admitted. “I asked them to back off. I thought the constant interruptions were increasing the stress Vince, Joe, and Cliff were feeling too much.” Looking around at the debris that surrounded them, she sighed. “I’m not cleaning this up.”

Cliff laughed. “I’ll do it. I’ve been bored as hell lately. It’ll give me something to do.”

Stepping over what was left of the coffee table, a shredded sofa cushion, and—Ah, hell. Was that the flat-screen TV?—Melanie crossed to Cliff and drew him into a hug.

Cliff wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back. The two seemed close.

Melanie drew back and reached up to tweak one of Cliff ’s dreadlocks. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He smiled. “I’m fine.”

“The fighting didn’t . . .”

“Spark a flare of insanity? No. It actually felt good. Like a release.”

“Hmm.” Stepping back, she nearly tripped over more crap on the floor.

Bastien darted forward and grabbed her arm to steady her.

“Thanks,” she said. And he felt the spark of attraction that whipped through her and sped her pulse at his touch despite her fading irritation. “I wonder if sparring might help Joe?”