Phantom Shadows

“I don’t know. I just found her.”



“Where’s Linda?”



“I don’t know. I asked Dr. Lipton, but she didn’t answer.”



“Let’s get the blankets off her.”



Cold air embraced Melanie when he yanked the covers back.



“I’m sorry,” Ami said. “I’ve never been sick before and didn’t know what to do for a fever. She was shivering, so I thought—”



“I know, Ami. It’s okay. Would you see if you can track down David while I try Roland?”



Melanie couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer. The sounds of Bastien retrieving, then dialing his phone seemed magnified.



“Roland? Melanie is spiking a fever . . . I don’t know, but you don’t even have to touch her to feel the heat coming off her skin . . .”



Darkness.



Quiet.



Hands shaking, Bastien stripped off everything but his boxers at preternatural speeds.



Ami and Darnell hurried past, arms full of towels they took into the bathroom. Roland, Sarah, and Richart flew past in a blur, scuffling as they hit the doorway at the same time.



Pulling the oversized shirt he had leant Melanie down over her pale pink bikini panties, Bastien found himself silently offering up a prayer for the first time in decades. Or was it centuries?



Fire radiated from Melanie’s skin as he lifted her limp form into his arms.



It terrified him. As did her total lack of response.



He hurried into the bathroom, which thankfully was spacious. Ami and Darnell were lining the edges of the oversized bathtub with thick fluffy towels. The three immortals were pouring several large bags of ice into the water that filled it.



“You’ll have to get into the tub with her,” Roland said. “Lucid or nay, she’ll do her damnedest to get out of there once the cold hits her.”



Sarah twined the fingers of one hand through Roland’s. “Roland did it for me. That’s one of the few things I remember from my transformation.”



As soon as everyone moved back, Bastien stepped into the water. Small, rectangular cubes bobbed on the surface and bounced against his shins as others beneath them tried to fight their way to the top. Extreme cold cut through him like shards of glass.



Bastien gritted his teeth. With a little concentration, he could regulate his body temperature so efficiently that steam would rise from his skin. But the whole point of this was to cool Melanie down, so his body temperature needed to match that of the water.



Taking a deep breath (he was not looking forward to that frigid water hitting his family jewels), he sat with Melanie reclining in his lap, her back to his chest.



A split second later, she awoke with a roar. Lunging away from him, she struggled to leave the water and escape the cold that pierced her skin like needles.



Bastien locked his arms around her and murmured reassuring nonsense as he gently eased her back against him. Her arms and legs flailed and fought, striking the edge of the tub he was glad Ami and Darnell had thought to pad with towels.



Weak from the virus wreaking havoc within her, Melanie swiftly fell still, panting and shivering against him.



“Just a little longer,” he whispered, chest aching as tears silently leaked from the corners of her closed eyes. “Just a little longer, sweetheart. Then you’ll never be ill again.”



Every second lasted an hour. The tiny rectangular icebergs dwindled in size as Melanie’s warmth reached them. And, with every second, the pain wracking his body multiplied.



But he voiced no complaints. He merely held Melanie’s shivering form close and hoped this would work.



Awkward, anxious silence filled the room.



Teeth chattering, he bent his head, pressed his cheek to hers, and closed his eyes.



Chapter 15



Melanie awoke not knowing where she was or how she had come to be there. The lights were off. No windows provided ambient light. Soft sheets cushioned her back. Others were drawn up to her neck.



Habit left her squinting at her surroundings until she realized she could see them clearly in the darkness without squinting.



Raising her head, she examined the bedroom. It was odd, seeing it this way. In pitch blackness, much of the color had been leeched from the walls, bedding, and other decor.



Was this how immortals saw things? Was this how cats and dogs and nocturnal creatures saw things at night? Because this was very cool.



Lowering her head to the pillow, she decided the toothache plaguing her, on the other hand, was not cool. Nor was the throbbing headache.



At least the nausea was better.



She tried to raise one hand to rub her pounding temples and couldn’t. The large fingers twined through hers tightened and drew her arm up against a hard chest.



Melanie slowly turned her head on the pillow.



Bastien slept beside her on his side, her hand and forearm now tucked against his chest. The stubble on his chin abraded her knuckles.



His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in sleep. She had never noticed how long his eyelashes were. Those warm, beautiful brown eyes of his always distracted her, particularly when they burned with amber flames.



She rolled onto her side, facing him.



He looked tired. He must not have been feeding.



How long had he been caring for her and watching over her?



His lashes lifted. Those chestnut eyes met hers.



Melanie reached up with her free hand and drew her fingers down the side of his handsome face.



His eyes began to glow. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered.



Her own eyes pricked with tears at the stark plea. “I won’t. I’m better now.”



He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it fervently. “Can I get you anything?”



“No. Just rest,” she murmured and scooted closer.



His lids lowered. A long sigh brushed her knuckles. His brow smoothed out as his breathing deepened.



His grip on her hand, however, never lessened.



Smiling despite the headache and toothache, Melanie closed her eyes and let sleep claim her.



Bastien jerked awake when a hand clamped around his throat. Golden eyes blazing with fury met his in the darkness.



Seth. Oh shit.



Bastien glanced to the side where Melanie slept.



If Seth intended to kill him, Bastien hoped he would do it elsewhere.



“As you will,” the immortal leader snarled.



The two of them teleported to the training room. Edward and Ethan were there, training with Étienne and Lisette, while Tracy sparred with Sheldon.



All movement ceased when the others got a gander at their leader slowly choking the life out of Bastien, who wore only sweatpants.



“Out,” Seth snapped.



Weapons slid into sheaths. The immortals exited as slowly as the humans did, feet shuffling, necks craning, reluctant to miss the action.



“Now!”



That got them moving, leaving only Bastien and his executioner.



Bastien thought fleetingly that Seth should have teleported them to his castle in England instead. Then they would have come full circle, having acted this scene out before.



Seth yanked him closer. “Ah, but that time I let you live.” What felt like a fist tightened around Bastien’s heart. Pain streaked through his chest.



“Oh, hell no!” Marcus entered, scowling darkly as he stomped toward the duo. “If anyone’s going to kill that asshole, it’s going to be me.”



In his dreams. No way in hell would Bastien let Marcus be the implement of his demise. The bastard had nearly gotten Ami killed on at least two occasions.



Seth dropped him like a stone. “Are you kidding me? That’s why I’m going to kill you! You put Ami in danger!”



Bastien coughed and choked and sucked in air. The pressure in his chest vanished.



“You’re really going to kill him?” Yet another new voice.



All three turned to see David lounging in the doorway.



“Yes,” Seth and Marcus both answered, then scowled at each other.



“Well, try not to make too much of a mess. I’m tired of all of the blame-it-on-Bastien shit wrecking my home.”



Bastien’s throat finally expanded enough for him to speak. “I thought you wanted to kill me, too,” he wheezed.



David shook his head. “I just planned to kick your ass.”



“Gee, thanks.” Any way it went, he was screwed. His big battle with Roland a couple of years ago had shown him quite clearly that any immortal hundreds of years older than him could pretty much wipe the floor with him. Sure, he’d get some hits in and do some damage of his own, but that’s about all he would do.



He looked from one to the next to the last and thought of Melanie curled up in his bed, still ill from the transformation.



You know what? Fuck that defeatist crap. Melanie needed him. He’d fight every immortal and Second in this house if he had to. He wasn’t going to let her down.



David groaned and rolled his eyes.



Seth swore.



Marcus looked confused. “What?”



“Had you shown as much concern for Ami,” Seth said, “I wouldn’t wish to reduce you to ashes right now.”



“You think that decision was easy for me?” Bastien demanded. “You think I wanted Ami there? I’ve known her for almost as long as you have and love her just as much as you all do.”



David ambled forward. “Seth and I removed Ami from Emrys’s clutches. You put her directly in his path.”



“Emrys wasn’t there.”



“But if he had been—”



“Marcus would have ripped him limb from limb and I would’ve had Marcus’s back. I want Emrys dead. The longer it takes us to locate him, the more opportunity he has to share his discovery with others. Chris isn’t making any headway through his contacts. The whole vampire recruitment thing turned around and bit me on the ass.”



“Stuart didn’t betray you,” David mentioned. “From what I could glean from the mercenaries’ thoughts while we fought them—”



“They’re definitely mercenaries?”



“Yes,” David confirmed, then continued. “The men Stuart encountered at Duke listened in on his conversation with the other vampire, observed their attack on the students they fed from, then tranqed them. They knew Stuart intended to meet with an immortal—he was trying to convince Paul to go with him—and decided to use that to their advantage, implanting the tracking device, then leaving him where he might wake up and think he had escaped. They tranqed the other vamp twice by accident and destroyed him.”