Growling in fury, he lunged in her direction, then froze, his gaze going over her shoulder.
A body brushed up against Melanie’s back.
Jumping, she spun around and swung one of the daggers.
Bastien caught her wrist before the blade could sink into his throat. “It’s all right. It’s just me.”
Relief rushed through her. “Make a sound next time. Or say my name. Something. I thought you were one of the other vampires.”
“I realize that now. My mistake. I’ve never fought alongside a human before.” He pointed at the vampire, who was easing back a step. “You,” he pronounced in an authoritative tone. “Stay where you are. We need to talk and if you run away you won’t escape. You’ll just piss me off.” His expression darkened. “And you do not want to piss me off.”
The vampire blanched and swallowed audibly.
Melanie looked behind Bastien at the others. The blond, the Panthers fan, and the other Tar Heel were unconscious on the ground, successfully tranqed by the auto-injectors. The vamp in black with the slicked back hair was rapidly shriveling up as the virus that infected him devoured him from the inside out in a frantic bid to continue living. He could have survived the knife to the chest. It had hit near his shoulder. But the throat . . . Her borrowed dagger had severed the carotid artery.
Vampires weren’t like immortals. Immortals wouldn’t die from blood loss alone. If the blood loss was extreme enough, the immortal would slip into a sort of stasis or hibernation until another blood source came along. Vampires like this one, however, simply bled out, dying before the virus could repair the damage.
Melanie stared. She had never killed anyone before. Had never even imagined doing so, even while undergoing her training. It left a sick feeling in her stomach. A heaviness in her chest.
Bastien’s hand on her wrist loosened, sliding up to her biceps to brush up and down in a gentle caress.
She looked up, met his gaze. “It was an accident.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t mean to kill him. The second dagger was supposed to hit that one.” She motioned to the sole upright vampire, who glanced around frantically, seeking some avenue of escape.
“I know,” Bastien murmured softly, then maneuvered her around so her back was to the others. “What about your leg? How deep is the wound?”
She glanced down. The blue jean material clinging to her left thigh had parted in a clean slice about half a foot long. Shifting the dagger in her left hand to join that in her right, she poked the wound. “It’s shallow. I don’t think I even need stitches.”
Bastien suddenly pointed in the vamp’s direction. “Boy, do not make me chase you.”
The vampire, who must have been about to bolt, went still, eyes wide.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Bastien asked Melanie, his voice much softer.
She nodded.
“Why aren’t the others shriveling up?” the vampire blurted. Melanie could almost hear his nerves jangling.
“They aren’t dead,” Bastien told him and held up the used auto-injectors. “They’re drugged.”
“Drugs don’t work on us,” the vampire countered. “I used to be hooked on Ketamine. Now it doesn’t do shit to me.”
“This,” Bastien told him, again drawing his attention to the auto-injectors, “will.”
“Bullshit.”
“Have you ever seen a dead vampire not disintegrate?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I haven’t seen very many dead vampires.”
Melanie eyed the vamp. Could they have lucked out and actually found a newly turned one so soon? “How long have you been infected?”
“Since Spring Break.” Less than a year then. “I went to Acapulco, got high, passed out on the beach, and woke up like this.” His gaze, still luminescent blue, strayed to his companions.
“Listen for their pulse, if it will make you feel better,” Melanie suggested.
All were silent for a long moment.
“They really are still alive,” he said. “But they’re out? They’re unconscious?”
“Yes.”
He started forward.
Bastien reached out, touched Melanie’s hip, and eased her behind him.
She tried to resist—she could take care of herself—but Bastien got his way through sheer strength, keeping himself between her and the vampire at all times as the boy went to stand over his friends.
All but growling with frustration, Melanie poked Bastien in the ribs.
A bark of startled laughter escaped him when she inadvertently hit a ticklish spot. He quickly cut it off and frowned down at her.
Raising up the daggers she still held in one hand, she pushed him away with the other. “I don’t think he’s stupid enough to try to hurt me,” she said dryly. “Are you . . . what’s your name?”
The vampire stopped next to the blond. “Stuart.” Without answering her first question, he crouched down and started rifling through the pockets of the blond’s leather jacket.
Bastien grumbled something she couldn’t hear under his breath. Truth be told, she wouldn’t mind being in his arms under other circumstances.
Stuart made a sound of discovery and withdrew an iPod and what appeared to be Bose earbuds from the blond’s pocket. Rising, he wrapped the cord around and around the iPod, then tucked both into his back pocket.
“He won’t remember any of this?” Stuart asked, his eyes on the blond.
“No,” Bastien answered.
A second later, Stuart drew his foot back and kicked the blond hard in the head. “Asshole. Takin’ my shit.” A second kick followed.
“I take it you two weren’t close,” Bastien drawled.
“Hell, no. But if there’s one thing we vampires learned from . . .” he motioned to Bastien “. . . well, from you, it’s that there’s strength in numbers. Dick here was the strongest among us and seemed to be doing pretty well, so I joined him.”
Lovely, Bastien thought. The immortals were going to enjoy holding this over his head.
“So . . .” Stuart said, easing back a step and clapping his hands together. “I guess I’ll just be going now.”
“Nice try.” Bastien drawled and motioned to a pile of dirt that bordered a crater in the soil, a remnant of the last battle fought here. A battle he had missed, damn it. It may have turned out differently had he not. “Park it.”
Face grim, Stuart perched awkwardly on the soil. “It’s damp.”
“I care. Now pay attention. We have something to discuss.” Bastien untucked his shirt and began to tear a long strip from the hem like someone trying to pare away an apple’s skin in one long piece.
“Is it what we heard you talking about before we reached the clearing?”
“Yes. We’ve a new enemy.”
“The Immortal Guardians do?”
“Both of us—vampires and immortals—do. One bent on destroying us all so he can usurp our power.”
“Yeah. Right.”
“What are you doing?” Melanie asked, watching him curiously.
Bastien knelt before her. “Remember what I said, Stuart. Don’t make me chase you.” Taking the long strip of cloth, Bastien began to wind it snugly around and around Melanie’s thigh where the vamp had cut her.
She braced a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
Bastien completely lost his train of thought as warmth flowed into him at the sweet contact. He heard her pulse leap at his touch. Felt her breath catch as though it were his own.
“Our new enemy developed the sedative, Stuart,” she said.
“And yet, you’re using it.”
“I didn’t get my hands on the drug,” she said, “until it was used against vampires and immortals during the vampire king’s uprising.”
Bastien tied a knot in the makeshift bandage. “The enemy’s name is Emrys and he runs a mercenary group.” Rising, he glanced at the vamp. “At least we think it’s mercenary and not military.”
Stuart frowned. “What, you mean like Blackwater?”
“Yes, but think smaller and more elite. Only those who need to know are even aware of this shadow army’s existence. It’s so secretive we haven’t been able to ascertain its name or location, only that of the leader.”
“We wouldn’t have even known that,” Melanie said, “if he hadn’t duped the vampire king.”
Stuart looked doubtful, but at least he was listening.
Bastien hadn’t really anticipated accomplishing this much when he had proposed his plan. He and Melanie had really lucked out.
Of course, there were a lot more recently turned vampires in the area, thanks to the vampire king. Near the end, he had told his followers to turn others at will, and his soldiers had taken that order and run with it. Chris Reordon was still sorting through all of the Missing Person reports that had inundated the police and sheriff ’s departments in North Carolina and surrounding states.
“Was this before or after you killed the king?” Stuart asked with an abundance of sarcasm.
Bastien stood too close to Melanie. Every time their arms brushed, he was struck by little shocks of her emotions, many of which revolved around his sorry ass. “Before. What do you think weakened the king’s ranks enough for us to destroy them?”
Stuart frowned.
“This mercenary—Emrys—promised the vampire king power, an army . . . everything the king desired basically . . . in exchange for the capture of one of us. The vampire king trusted him and was taken down with the drug, many of his followers with him.”
Sure it was a fabrication. Well, not the deal part, but the Emrys taking down the vampire king part. That had been pure Immortal Guardian handiwork accomplished with the aid of Reordon and his network.
And a butt-load of Napalm-B.
“So they want one of you guys?” Stuart asked, a speculative gleam entering his eye.