Phantom Shadows (43 page)

Marcus’s eyes flared with fury and promised pain.

“Marcus, do
not
deliver a swift death to Emrys. Disarm and disable him, then summon me.”

When Marcus didn’t agree fast enough, Seth told him telepathically,
I want him to suffer for what he has done.

Marcus gave an abrupt nod.

“Yuri and Stanislov, disable the helicopters.”

Chris held up a finger. “If you could do that without destroying them, I would appreciate it. Those things aren’t easy to come by without sparking scrutiny.”

“Won’t be as fun,” Stanislov grumbled, “but we’ll try.”

Seth smiled. “When you’re done with the helos, do the same with the armored vehicles in the next hangar. Ethan, you and Edward take out the guards on the grounds and make sure no one enters or exits. Lisette and Étienne, take the barracks. Scan the minds of the mercenaries before you kill them. If you think any are good men, knock them out and restrain them. Perhaps we can recruit them ourselves. If not, I’ll erase their memories.”

The siblings nodded.

“Richart, do your thing. You cause more chaos and fear than any of the others.”

Richart grinned and gave him a cocky salute.

Roland grunted. “You forgot us.”

Seth shook his head. “You and Sarah are free to wreak havoc where you will, though I’d prefer to have you in the building with us. There were a lot of heartbeats in there when I flew over, so the bulk of Emrys’s troops are likely there.”

Roland and Sarah nodded.

Chris held up a finger again. “My tech team will begin blocking outgoing cell signals on my mark, but they can’t block satellite phones. If you hear a call going out, take out the caller without damaging the phone so we can find out who the hell they’re calling.”

More nods.

“Okay,” Seth said. “We clear on our assignments?”

Everyone nodded.

“Then I’ll mention one more time that everyone here is to do everything in your power to ensure Ami is not taken by Emrys.”

Ami’s brow furrowed as she glanced at the warriors around her. “I’m sorry.”

Several large hands clapped her on the shoulders and patted her on the back with rough affection.

“You’re our sister,” Étienne said. “We protect our family.”

Her eyes shimmered suspiciously when she smiled at them.

Seth knew she must be terrified. She was about to enter the den of the monsters who had tortured her for six months and nearly robbed her of her sanity.

He nodded at Chris. “Make your call.”

Chris called his tech people. As soon as he disconnected the call, Seth led the immortals forward.

Melanie’s heart pounded so loudly she expected it to burst from her chest.

Seth and David moved phenomenally fast. Roland and Sarah were right on their heels. Melanie put on a burst of speed and kept up . . . until she realized she was leaving Bastien and the others behind. He had been right. Having Roland transform her had leant her the same strength and speed of a millennium-old immortal.

She fell back to run alongside Bastien and the d’Alençons. Ethan and Edward followed next, with Marcus and Ami bringing up the rear.

Ami ran just a bit faster than a human. Marcus could have carried her and kept up with Seth, but Melanie guessed he was hoping the others would clear a path for them and reduce the danger to her.

Over the fence the immortals bounded.

Even though she was scared as hell, Melanie couldn’t help but smile as she leaped easily over the twenty-foot fence. Her heart raced with excitement as she sailed through the air and landed smoothly on the other side. Barely a bend of the knees. No jostling of the joints. Then she was racing forward.

Seth and David plowed through the front doors of the main building before the mercenaries patrolling the grounds and manning the front gate even knew they were under attack. And they plowed through them literally. Neither stopped to open a door. They just burst through the heavy glass, bending back the metal frame as they went so that it looked as though it had imploded.

Melanie followed and paused just inside the door, shards of glass crackling under her boots. Bastien halted beside her.

There were three hallways. Seth raced down the one on the right. David took the left. Shouts erupted. Then howls of pain as the elder immortals’ weapons delivered death to their enemies. Gunshots ensued. Crashes. More of the same arose outside.

“Which way?” she asked.

Based on Seth’s drawing, it could be either the middle or the left.

“Cliff! Joe!” Bastien shouted.

Melanie heard nothing but the panicked bursts of speech spewing from the mercenaries’ mouths.

“Let’s try the middle,” he said, face grim, and took off.

She knew what he was thinking, because she thought the same thing: If the vampires hadn’t been sedated, the lack of response meant they were dead.

Humans in camouflage poured into the hallway, weapons raised. Bastien ducked this way and that as bullets and darts flew at them. Melanie tried to do the same as she drew her weapons, but was not yet as experienced. Two bullets hit her in the chest and were stopped by the vest. A dart hit the vest, too. Then another hit her in the arm.

Holstering one of her Sigs, she shoved her hand into her thigh pocket and withdrew one of the green-capped auto-injectors. Lethargy began to seep through her as she flipped open the cap. Raising her other Sig, she fired at the soldiers and shoved the auto-injector into her thigh.

Bodies fell. So many she lost count. Had the men not been doing their damnedest to kill her, she didn’t know if she would’ve been able to hurt them. She was a doctor. A healer. She
repaired
wounds. She didn’t inflict them.

At least not until now.

Energy flowed into her, extinguishing the sluggishness. Fortified, she dropped the other Sig in its holster and drew out the auto-injectors she had filled with the weaker human dose of the sedative.

With a burst of speed, she dashed from human to human, hitting them with the tranquilizer instead of killing them. She told herself it was so Seth could read their minds and unearth information, but she really just needed more time to grow accustomed to taking another person’s life. Some of these men could be innocent dupes. Some may relish the violence Emrys ordered them to perpetrate, the pain he told them to inflict. She couldn’t tell one from the other and didn’t like the idea of executing the first just to ensure they got the second.

Each man she sedated struggled. Melanie was shocked at how easily she disarmed and restrained them.

She could feel Bastien’s gaze and knew he was keeping an eye on her. “I’m fine,” she called, then remembered she didn’t have to raise her voice. Even over the gunfire and the explosion that just shattered the rest of the front windows, they both could hear normal speech.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. Ducking bullets, she dropped another unconscious soldier and chased down the next.

Bastien had never been so afraid in his life. He wanted to tell Melanie to stop tranqing the fuckers and just kill them. It was a hell of a lot faster and half as risky.

But he knew her. And he knew, though she had said nothing of it, that killing was difficult for her.

Hell, it had been difficult for him, too, in the beginning. It had been difficult when he had been a mortal and fought Napoleon’s—

He swore as two bullets struck him in the arm and shoulder. Knocking the gun that had fired them out of its owner’s hand, he struck out twice with his daggers and moved on as the shooter’s body thudded to the floor behind him.

No, killing wasn’t something that came easily. Hell, he’d heard that Sarah still shook like a leaf after she took out vampires, even though she did so with astounding expediency. And Sarah had been hunting for a couple of years now.

He saw Melanie jerk as blood spurted from her thigh.

Pain was something else she would have to grow accustomed to. He hated that. He never wanted her to have so much as a paper cut for the rest of her long—and it had better be damned long—existence.

Curses spilled from her lips.

Bastien smiled.

He rarely heard her curse and laughed as she now turned the air blue.

She glanced over at the sound, caught his expression, and smiled. “This shit hurts!”

“I’ll kiss it and make it better later,” he promised.

Her lovely lips stretched in a wide grin as she tranqed another mercenary.

Dropping the empty auto-injector, she drew her Sigs.

That must have been her last.

More men poured into the hallway.

What, was the fucking cafeteria down this way or something?

He and Melanie formed a united front. He sliced and diced with his daggers. She cut men down with her 9mms.

A second explosion rent the night outside. Then a third. And a fourth.

Bastien and Melanie stepped over bodies, forcing their way forward until they finally reached the first door.

Bastien looked inside. Unbelievable. It
was
a cafeteria.

They made their way to a door on the other side.

Melanie peeked inside. “Training room,” she announced.

Great.

Were there even any men left out in the barracks for Lisette and Étienne to worry about?

Melanie jerked again. Two holes appeared in her clothes, one in her hip and one above it at her waist, just beneath the lower edge of the damned vest. Blood quickly began to moisten her cargo pants.

Bastien swore.

“That’s
my
line,” she gritted and, eyes blazing amber with pain and fury, shot her assailant in the head.

Bastien eased closer to her.

“I’m fine,” she growled.

No, she wasn’t. Multiple wounds always slowed the healing. She was limping badly.

The mercenaries, like sharks drawn by chum in the water, all turned on her, sensing weakness.

“Richart!” Bastien called and dove in front of her as the men fired.

Half a dozen bullets hit him as he dropped his daggers, then drew and swung his katanas in sweeping arcs, severing heads, limbs, and arteries.

Richart appeared in the midst of the mercenaries, blades flashing. As soon as those he
didn’t
kill noticed him, he vanished and reappeared farther down.

Again and again he teleported, instilling fear and delivering death while Melanie’s guns and Bastien’s swords continued to claim lives.

The last man fell.

All three immortals swung around to face the entrance of the hallway.

No mercenaries rushed forward to save their comrades. All seemed to be occupied in battles in the other hallways.

Bastien let his shoulders slump. His torso riddled with bullet wounds, he turned to Melanie.

Breath ragged, she leaned against the wall. She nodded to him that she was okay. “It’s just going to take some getting used to,” she said through clenched teeth. “The pain. I’m not used to it.”

Richart shook some of the blood off his blades. “It took me a century to get used to it. You should feed.”

Melanie shook her head. Since her transformation, she had only sunk her new fangs into bagged blood, allowing them to draw it directly into her veins. She had not yet fed from a person. And, even though she wouldn’t actually be drinking it, she couldn’t help but feel a bit nauseated at the thought of it.

Or was the nausea simply a result of her wounds?

Either way . . . “We need to find Cliff and Joe. I’ll feed after that.” On bagged blood, back at David’s place.

Richart looked to Bastien.

That grated a little. It was
her
decision, after all.

Bastien nodded.

Melanie frowned, eyeing the holes in the front of his shirt. “Do
you
need to feed?”

“Later. Let’s find Cliff and Joe.”

The foundation of the building suddenly shook as thunder rumbled outside. The walls vibrated. Cracked.

All three fought for balance and dodged pieces of ceiling that fell down around them.

“Was that a bomb?” she asked, peering toward the front of the building. She had seen no flash of light.

Bastien shook his head. “I think Seth just found Emrys.”

Ami’s heart pounded so erratically she had difficulty breathing. Standing in the doorway, she stared inside. Not at the vampire manacled to the table, but at the two men standing over him.

Her feet glued themselves to the floor. Her body began to tremble.

“Ami?” Marcus crowded her side and rested a hand on her back.

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t pry her tongue from the roof of her mouth. Or silence the screams that erupted in her head.

Marcus’s hand clenched, tugging her shirt tight.

Fear and hatred and remembered pain must have tumbled the barriers of her mind, allowing the screams to batter him through the mental channel she used to communicate with him.

The foundation of the building suddenly shook beneath their feet. Thunder rumbled outside.

Seth must have heard, too. And David. Somewhere in the building the latter emitted a roar of rage.

Wind buffeted her as two presences loomed behind her.

“Is that him?” Seth asked.

Yes.

“Which one?” Marcus demanded.

Both of them were there. In Texas. Both of these men tortured me.

Seth growled and shoved Marcus aside. In a blink, he was across the room, the older of the two humans shoved up against the wall two or three feet off the floor, a dagger at his throat. “Emrys, I presume?”

Marcus shot forward and claimed the other before David could. His prey tried to swing a bone saw at him. Marcus knocked it out of his hands, grabbed him by the throat, and spun him around so his back was pressed to Marcus’s chest. A dagger appeared in Marcus’s hand and pricked the man’s throat.

David touched Ami’s back.

Forcing herself to breathe, she took a jerky step forward. Then another. Then another until she stared up into the eyes of the man Marcus held. He was only a few inches taller than her. Paunchy. Pale.