Phantom Shadows

The human doctor—what was her name?—saw him coming. Face creased with concern, she waved two of the guards over to take the woman.

“Stuart?” the doctor said. “What happened?” She took his arm.

“Explosion.” His vision was all wonky. The color was off or something.

“Come with me.”

He trudged after her. His body hurt all over. Cramped. He felt like something was trying to eat him from the inside out. Like . . . like he had when he had first been transformed.

His fangs cut his lip. Salty blood hit his tongue. He needed to feed.

The doctor led him out of the hallway and into . . . He didn’t know. He couldn’t concentrate. He hurt too much.

She said something as she left him and opened a cabinet. Cold air rushed out and danced around his legs. A refrigerator?

She walked back toward him, held something out. “. . . losing a lot of blood . . . not healing . . . need to feed.”

Yes, he did need to feed.

Knocking whatever she held aside, he grabbed her arm, yanked her close, and sank his fangs into her neck.

Sweet, sweet relief.

He nearly wept with it as the cramping ceased and the pain began to recede.

Cliff waited while Joe handed off another wounded employee to the guards in the tunnel. “We’re both pretty banged up,” he told his friend. “Let’s stop off and get some blood before we go back.”

Joe nodded.

Cliff didn’t need the blood so much himself. But Joe was looking a little ragged. He’d been injured. The scent of blood was every-freaking-where. And they’d had to take out some human soldiers who had infiltrated the upper floors. Cliff worried that the strain of everything might send Joe over the edge. If he replenished what he’d lost, maybe it would help him maintain control.

Cliff nodded to the immortal by the tunnel, unsurprised when the large warrior didn’t nod back. Marcus, he’d heard one of the guards call him.

Marcus looked pissed and ready to rip everyone to shreds as he stood sentinel in front of a pretty, petite woman with red hair. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed as if she were concentrating very hard on something. Maybe she was an immortal with one of those cool gifts.

Joe made his silent way to the lab they both had frequented so many times. Dr. Lipton kept a special refrigerator stocked with blood in there.

Cliff followed. The crowd in the hallway began to thin. There were still a hell of a lot of explosions overhead, though, and quite a few humans trapped on Sublevel 2, so he thought this thing was far from over.

A few steps inside the lab, Joe stopped short.

Cliff bumped into his back. “What is it?”

Joe didn’t answer.

Cliff stepped around him and felt his heart drop into his stomach.

The new vampire was down on the floor with Dr. Lipton in his lap, his fangs buried deep in her neck.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Cliff bellowed and rushed forward.

Stuart raised his head and snarled something.

Dr. Lipton lay still, eyes closed, blood trailing down her neck.

Cliff lifted her with care, then backhanded Stuart, sending him flying across the room to shatter the already cracked sheetrock on the far wall. “Dr. Lipton?” He placed his hand on her neck to try to stanch the flow of blood. “Melanie?”

Joe watched with wild eyes. “I can’t hear a heartbeat.”

Neither could Cliff. He’d like to think it was because there was so damned much other noise going on, but . . .

She was pale. Her lips were blue.

“What happened?” Stuart asked, slumped across the room.

Joe turned blazing eyes on the vampire. “You killed her! You fucking killed her!”

“Wait!” Cliff shifted his warm, bloody fingers on her neck. “I-I-I think I found a pulse. She’s not dead yet.”

“Yet,” Joe repeated and began backing toward the doorway.

“Joe? What are you doing? Get help.”

Joe just kept moving, his head rocking back and forth. “I can’t do it.”

“What?”

“I can’t do this. Not without Dr. Lipton. Not without Melanie. I can’t be here.”

“She isn’t—”

“You know what they’ll do to us! They hate us! They’ll blame us! They’ll kill us!”

Cliff gaped as his friend sped through the doorway. He looked over at Stuart, whose wide-eyed gaze was fixed on Dr. Lipton.

Crimson liquid trailed from the corner of his mouth. “I did that?”

“Yes!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

Cliff could believe it, but . . . shit! Joe was on the run. Dr. Lipton’s heartbeat was faltering. “If you didn’t mean it, get your ass over here.”

Stuart scrambled forward.

Cliff passed him Dr. Lipton, praying he was doing the right thing. “Keep pressure on her neck. I’m gonna go for help.”

Stuart nodded. He should be flushed from feeding, but his face was pale as death.

Cliff took one last look at Melanie, then raced from the room. Down the hallway toward the elevator he went, moving so fast he would kill the humans if he bumped into any of them. “Bastien!” he shouted.

Up through the roof of the elevator he went.

What? Bastien called back from somewhere outside.

Cliff leapt up two floors, grabbed the edge, and propelled himself up two more. “Melanie needs you! She’s hurt real bad!”

One more leap and he ran smack into Bastien on the ground floor . . . or what was left of it.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“Stuart drained her.”

Bastien’s eyes flared with panic as he turned to the elevator shaft.

Cliff grabbed his arm. “Joe’s gone. He saw Dr. Lipton and freaked out. I have to go after him.”

“The sun’s coming up.”

“He can’t be alone. He’s too close to losing it.”

Bastien nodded and pulled him into a rough hug. “Be careful. If you don’t make it back by sunrise, I’ll find you.”

Cliff nodded and watched Bastien drop through the opening and free-fall to the bottom, where he landed smoothly in a crouch.

Cliff eyed the chaos around him. There was fire everywhere. Bullets whipped past. Immortals . . .

He swallowed. Holy crap. No wonder Bastien’s vampire army had fallen beneath the immortals’ swords. They were terrifying in their speed and strength and intensity.

Cliff’s heart began to pound. His chest felt tight. He felt exposed. Terrified. He hadn’t been outside by himself in over two years. Had he become agoraphobic as a result? Because his feet felt frozen to the pitted floor.

Until a freaking missile shot past.

Cliff ducked behind what was left of a desk. The ceiling was gone, the roof mixed with the other rubble beneath his feet.

Where the hell was Joe?

Smoke stung his eyes as he peered around, trying to find the blond vampire.

There! Diving into the trees.

Cliff took off after him. He leaped over a pile of mercenary bodies and dodged as many bullets as he could. The damned things were flying everywhere. A blurred form sailed past, eyes flashing bright amber.

Terror cut through him like a blade.

Would the immortals think he was trying to escape and kill him?

When the dark as midnight figure kept going, Cliff allowed himself to breathe again.

Apparently he wasn’t their highest priority.

Relieved, he headed for the trees, intent on finding Joe.

Something stung his neck.

Reaching up, he slapped at it and came away with a tranquilizer dart. His vision wavered. His knees buckled.

The ground lurched up and hit him hard.

A shadow fell over him.

Cliff squinted up at two soldiers. “Ah shi—”

Bastien raced through the hallway, unable to breathe, panic closing his throat.

Melanie.

He saw nothing. Saw no one. Only the door to Melanie’s office.

He rushed inside.

Empty.

Stepping out into the hallway, he met Marcus’s gaze. “Where is she?”

Stone-faced, Marcus pointed to the lab.

Bastien burst through the doorway.

Stuart was bent over Melanie on the floor.

Bastien roared with fury.

Stuart spun around, eyes frantic. “I didn’t mean to! I swear I didn’t mean to do it!”

Bastien sent the vampire flying across the room. “What did you do?” he bellowed.

Melanie’s eyes were closed.

Bastien knelt beside her and gathered her limp form into his arms. “Melanie?” He brushed her hair back from her face. It was littered with powder and fragments of sheetrock. “Melanie, sweetheart?”

Cliff had made it sound as though she were dying, but . . . her skin was warm to the touch. Her heartbeat sounded strong. Blood stained her pale neck. Perhaps Cliff and Joe had seen that and assumed the worst?

“I was injured,” Stuart said and approached with caution. His pants were soaked with blood. His shirt bore a large stain and was scorched in places.

Bastien couldn’t tell if the blood was Stuart’s or that of the men and women he had helped. It wasn’t Melanie’s. The scent of her blood rose from her throat and did not match that on Stuart’s clothing. Only that on his face.

Bastien hugged her tight, terrified by how close he had come to losing her.

“I was hurt,” Stuart babbled on. “I didn’t know I’d lost that much blood and . . . I don’t know what happened. I just . . . I didn’t realize I was feeding on her until those other vampires came in and . . . I didn’t mean to drain her.”

“You didn’t drain her,” Bastien murmured and buried his face in her hair. Why wasn’t she waking up? Had she hit her head? He should kill the vampire for this. Accident or not—

“Yeah, I did,” Stuart said with trepidation.

Bastien raised his head. “No, you—” He broke off, inhaled deeply. He stared down at Melanie, bent, and drew in her scent. Swearing, he looked up at Stuart. “What the hell did you do?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">