Phantom Shadows (31 page)

A chill accompanied that deep voice in Bastien’s head.

If anything happens to her, you’re dead.

David’s large form blurred. More screams joined the chorus of others already splitting the night.

A bullet ripped through Bastien’s thigh.

Shaking off the distractions, he leapt down and raced for the nearest soldier. The soldier’s companions yelped when Bastien yanked him from their midst and ducked into the forest to feed on him.

As warm blood entered his veins, the virus swiftly began to repair the many wounds Bastien had suffered, pushing bullets from his flesh, closing the holes, and stopping the bleeding.

The sun would crest the horizon soon. The towering trees around them would offer some protection, but all needed to be at full strength.

Dropping the soldier, Bastien returned to the battle.

Stuart did one more sweep of Sublevel 3. When he found no more survivors, he headed for the elevator shaft.

Two forms shot past in a blur. The other vampires.

Stuart liked Cliff. But didn’t really know what to think about Joe. The blond vamp was throwing off some eerie vibes.

Since those two headed into Sublevel 2, Stuart leapfrogged up to the first basement level.

This floor was all shot to shit. Huge, gaping holes in the ceiling let him see a sky brightening with approaching dawn. If this didn’t end soon, whoever was left up here would die here, because he wasn’t going to fry in the sun for anyone.

He had almost fried once right after he was turned. He hadn’t understood what had happened to him and . . .

Stuart shuddered, remembering.

Fear trickled in. Or rather
more
fear. That immortal down on Sublevel 5 was freaking him out, staring at him with those fury-filled eyes every time Stuart delivered another walking wounded.

What the hell was
he
so pissed about? Stuart hadn’t meant to bring all of this down on their heads. How was he supposed to know that tracking thing had been stuck in his head? He hadn’t felt anything. The stupid drug the mercenaries had given him must have slowed the virus’s ability to repair enough to keep the virus from pushing the damned thing out. Or maybe they did something to keep it in there.

If he had known it was there, he would have cut it out himself. Probably. That shit had hurt. But the knowledge that someone was tracking him or stalking him was creepy. And irritating. Like the time his parents had secretly tracked him using a GPS device and busted him for going to a party that had had drugs and alcohol at it.

So it’s not like he had
wanted
that thing in his head. Or
wanted
to help those human pricks.

And wasn’t Stuart helping the immortals and their human friends now to make up for it?

He was doing his part. Making up for his mistake.

Yet that ass avenger on Sublevel 5 kept glaring at him as if he wanted to cut Stuart into little pieces.

Whatever.

Stuart studied every dusty, dirty lump and peered between chunks of ceiling and whatever the hell used to be upstairs, looking for an arm or leg or any body part belonging to someone who might be trapped.

Beneath the screams and weapons fire outside (What the hell was going on up there? It sounded like the fucking Band of Brothers!), a moan sounded.

Stuart traced it to a pile of granite tile beneath another hole in the ceiling. He started tossing rubble aside.

A woman. It was a woman. He grimaced when he saw the bone protruding from the pudgy arm he uncovered.
Ugh! Nasty!
Her leg was even worse. He really wasn’t cut out for this crap.

Her face, reddish-brown hair, and clothes were nearly white with dust. “Thank you,” she huffed. “Thank you.”

She raised her eyes, met his, and screamed.

“No-no!” Stuart held up his hands. “It’s okay! It’s cool. I’m here to help you.”

The screaming stopped, thankfully, because this chick had a set of lungs.

She still looked scared as hell though.

“It’s okay,” Stuart repeated and leaned down.

Debris shifted behind him.

Stuart swung around. A dozen human soldiers stalked toward him.

Oh shit. Okay.
What should he do? He didn’t have a weapon and these guys were armed out the ass.

Grabbing huge hunks of cement and stone, he started hurling them at the soldiers at preternatural speeds.

He scored a lot of hits before the bullets started flying. Some struck him. Some missed. He thought one might have hit the woman at his feet because she screamed again and started crying.

Pissed off now, Stuart zipped around and came up behind the soldiers. He’d never broken someone’s neck before. It was disturbingly easy.

Only three or four soldiers remained when Stuart had to dodge the first tranquilizer dart. If one of those hit him, he was a goner.

He had to go on the defensive then, dodging the deadly drug. Something hit him in the stomach and bounced to the ground. Ducking another dart, Stuart glanced down.

Oh shit!
A grenade!

He leaped away.

Fire. Pain. Deafening noise.

He knew nothing else for he wasn’t sure how long.

He was down. Something heavy was on top of him. He tried to move. One arm, two. One leg, two. He nearly wept he was so relieved. No missing limbs at least.

The woman continued to cry. He almost couldn’t hear her for the ringing in his ears.

Stuart dug his way out of the rubble. The soldiers huddled around the woman. It looked like they were trying to fasten a harness or something around her. Were they going to take her prisoner?

A little wobbly on his feet, Stuart crept up behind them and snapped their necks.

The woman thanked him again and again as he lifted her into his arms and staggered back toward the elevator shaft.

Weird.
She felt heavy. He should have been able to carry her above his head with one hand and twirl her like a pizza. But she felt heavy. And he felt tired. And thirsty.

He paused at the edge. “It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured and stepped off into air.

Instead of landing smoothly, he hit what was left of the elevator roof hard. Pain shot up his legs as he stumbled and nearly fell through the opening.

The woman screamed again and clung tightly to him.

“’s okay.” Stuart dropped through into the elevator and started making his way through the throng down the long, seemingly endless hallway.

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.