Nodding, the two took off down the hallway, their forms blurring with speed. The stairwell was packed. So they forced the doors of the disabled elevator open and leapt up the shaft.
“They’d better damned well keep their fangs out of my people!” Chris shouted.
“They will!” At least he hoped they would. Cliff would. But Bastien wasn’t so sure about Joe.
Stuart raced past with a whimpering woman in his arms. Bastien couldn’t tell if it were pain or fear of the vampire that instigated the sounds.
Across the hall, Melanie applied a pressure bandage to a guard’s arm to stanch the blood gushing from his wound.
Bastien drew his katanas. “I’m heading up!”
Melanie raised her head and met his gaze. It seemed a thousand words, all unspoken, passed between them in that moment.
She nodded.
Bastien raced for the elevator shaft. There were four bodies in the elevator. Bastien didn’t know if the drop had killed them or the explosion that had snapped the cables.
Half of the ceiling of the elevator was gone. Bastien leapt up through the hole. Far above him, he saw stars twinkling in a sky that was beginning to lighten as dawn approached. Emrys had timed his attack well.
Three ropes suddenly fell through the open doorway to Sublevel 2. Soldiers garbed in black camo followed, sliding smoothly down, intent on taking the rest of the building.
Bastien grabbed the ropes and yanked with all of his preternatural strength.
The grappling hooks held. The ropes didn’t, snapping where they bent over the edge of Sublevel 2’s floor. The men shouted as they free-fell toward Bastien.
Bastien dropped the ropes and met them with his swords, his blades ensuring they would die if the fall didn’t kill them.
As their bodies hit the elevator, he leapt up, catapulting from level to level until he reached the ground floor.
Most of the building above ground had been demolished. Only fragments of walls stood, pillars among piles of rubble.
Emrys’s troops surrounded the place. Military Humvees. Sisu XA-180 armored personnel carriers with mounted 12.7-mm machine guns. Soldiers with shoulder-fired missiles. Grenades. The usual automatic weapons.
Smoke and dust and debris hovered like fog and stung Bastien’s eyes. Lisette was on top of one of the Sisus, firing the mounted machine gun while she fed on the soldier who had previously manned it and used him as a shield.
Richart was doing his Grim Reaper thing, appearing and disappearing amid the soldiers, picking them off before they even knew he was there, throwing them into a panic. Étienne swept a circle around the crumpled building’s perimeter, a constant blur, fatally wounding every soldier he passed. The soldiers began to shoot each other as they tried to stay ahead of him and failed.
Bright light blinded Bastien. He shielded his eyes and glanced up in time to see a door gunner lean out of one of two Black Hawk helicopters that hovered overhead and drop a grenade.
With lightning speed, Bastien caught the grenade and lobbed it back.
Panicked shouting ensued.
Soldiers dove out just as the vehicle exploded.
Bastien smiled. This was going to be fun.
Chapter 12
“The sun will be up in a few,” Roland murmured.
Lounging on the sofa, feet propped on the coffee table, with Sarah curled up against his side, he soaked in her warmth like a sponge. Savored her scent. Listened to the familiar thumping of her heart.
He would never grow tired of moments like this. And, now that she was immortal, he looked forward to enjoying thousands upon thousands of them.
“Already?” she posed with a yawn.
Nietzsche rumbled and purred like a Harley as Sarah stroked his back and watched the news. The ornery feline had done his best to wedge himself between them, then given up, and settled for sprawling across them both.
“Mm-hmm. Want to shower and head for bed?” Both still wore their hunting togs, sans bloodstains since they hadn’t encountered a single vampire tonight. Their weapons were scattered around his feet on the coffee table.
Tilting her head back, Sarah smiled up at him. “You gonna wash my back?”
He brushed his lips against her forehead. “Among other things.”
Her heartbeat picked up. “I like the sound of that.”
He dipped his head and did what he’d been dying to do ever since they had settled here on the sofa half an hour ago: tasted those luscious lips and listened to her pulse begin to race as her slender arms curled around his neck.
Damn, he loved her.
“Ahem.”
Roland grabbed a dagger from the coffee table and let it fly.
Richart ducked, barely evading it. “Damn it!”“I told you to call before you came here,” Roland growled. He hadn’t wanted the immortal to know where he lived in the first place and sure as hell didn’t want the man to think he could drop in whenever he wanted to.
“I didn’t have time!” Richart snapped. “The network is under attack.”
Roland and Sarah rose, dislodging a disgruntled Nietzsche. “What?” they demanded in unison.
“Emrys’s men are blitzing the place,” Richart said while they donned their weapons. “Large force. Heavy artillery. I don’t know how the hell this isn’t going to make the news. The civvies are being evacuated through the tunnel, those who haven’t already been killed.”
Sarah finished fastening her last holster. “Ready.”
Richart drew something out of his pocket. “Here.” He held out two cylindrical objects that looked like big plastic pens with green tops. Roland and Sarah each took one.
“What are they?” she asked.
“The antidote Bastien tested. If you get tranqed, use this to counteract it.”
Roland tucked his away. “Let’s go.”
Marcus broke out in a cold sweat as he watched Ami pack on the weapons. “Please rethink this.” He didn’t want her to risk falling into Emrys’s hands. Didn’t want to find out what being at those people’s mercy again might do to her.
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t. It’s too risky. And you know damn well Seth would not want you anywhere near that place.” Marcus had tried without success to reach the immortal leader at least ten times in the seconds or minutes that had passed since Bastien had called.
“Bastien is right. We haven’t been able to locate Emrys or his base through any means we’ve tried. This may be our only chance. If I can get close enough to his men, I can memorize as many signatures as I can and . . .” She looked up as she tied the bottom of one of her Glock 18 holsters to her thigh. “I know I can lead you all to them. I did it before with the vampire king. I can do it now.”
Marcus knelt in front of her. Brushing her hands aside, he finished tying the holster for her, then tied the other. When he finished, he leaned his face into her stomach and wrapped his arms around her hips. “I can’t lose you, Ami. I can’t.”
He heard her swallow, and wondered if her throat had as big a lump lodged in it as his did.
Her fingers tunneled through his hair and held him close. “You won’t lose me.” She pressed her lips to the top of his head. “A handful of immortals will be there to protect me.”
“Such has been the case before. Look how that ended.”
She rested her cheek on his hair. “We’ll be fine. Maybe you can kick some ass while we’re there. Won’t you enjoy that?”
He chuckled and shook his head.
She stiffened, then relaxed. “Hi, Richart.”
Marcus sighed. Rising, he turned to face the other immortal. “You’ll take us both at once or you won’t take us at all. I’m not letting Ami out of my sight.”
Richart nodded and held something out to him. “The antidote. Use it like an EpiPen if you’re hit with a dart.”
Marcus nodded and tucked it into one of his many pockets.
“Ready?”
He nodded and wrapped an arm around Ami.
Richart reached forward and touched their shoulders.
Melanie was helping another injured guard down the hallway when Richart, Marcus, and Ami appeared in a corner near the entrance of the escape tunnel.
Ami’s face was pale, but set with determination. After a quick look to take in the damage, she closed her eyes and stood very still.
Beside her, Marcus loomed protectively, weapons in hand, face dark. Melanie thought that if anyone so much as sneezed, Marcus would be on them in an instant.
Melanie helped the wounded man through the jagged hole in the wall and turned back to aid more. It was like a war zone. Explosions frequently rumbled in the distance or rocked the building. A cloud of dust hovered in the hallway, tickling her lungs and leaving her eyes gritty. The network’s headquarters was huge and employed hundreds of men and women from dozens and dozens of occupations. Doctors. Nurses. Accountants. Lawyers. Hackers. Internet monitors. Translators. Actors. Weapons trainers. Martial arts trainers. Electronics geniuses. Cooks. Linguists. Repairmen.
The names of the dead had been dropped by the wounded as they made their way to her and asked for aid. And more were dying. She could tell by the grim expressions on the faces of Cliff, Joe, and Stuart as they rescued those they could.
Marcus’s eyes widened as a blur sped toward them from the elevator shaft. Raising his weapons, he stepped in front of Ami.
Melanie reached over and placed a hand on his arm. “Wait.”
He scowled at her. “Is that—?”
Cliff halted in front of them. An elderly woman, skinny as a rail, was cradled in his arms. Her hair a tangled mess dragged from a formerly neat chignon, she stared at Melanie with round, blue eyes.
“Ma’am? Are you hurt?” Melanie asked.
The woman shook her head. “The ceiling collapsed. I was trapped and couldn’t move until this young man freed me. I told him I could walk, but—”
Cliff lowered the woman to her feet. “I said I could walk faster.”
The woman nodded, her expression slack with amazement. “He could.”
Cliff took a step back, sent Marcus a cautious glance. Then, nodding to Melanie, he took off back toward the elevators.