Phantom Shadows

Nate met Emrys’s gaze.



Emrys nodded.



When Nate handed over the blade, Donald sliced a deep gash across the vampire’s thigh.



Like the others, the wound welled with blood, then closed and healed.



“See?” Emrys said. “No special effects.”



“Are they really as fast and as strong as you say they are?”



“You saw the video. Did your analysts find anything to indicate the footage had been altered in any way or sped up?”



Donald shook his head.



“We are going to be so rich,” Nelson said, his expression full of awe as he stared down at the vampire.



For once, Emrys agreed with him.



And so did Donald, who at last met Emrys’s gaze. “Let’s talk.”



Melanie felt strange in her new vampire-hunting togs. Almost as if she were playing dress-up. Instead of her usual jeans and Chuck Taylors, she wore boots and black cargo pants with a butt-load of pockets. A black turtleneck hugged her torso. A gun belt hung on each hip, sporting Sig Sauer P220s. Her breasts were flattened by a Kevlar vest. A bandolier sporting a dozen daggers draped across her chest. Several auto-injectors full of the antidote filled one hip pocket. Extra clips and auto-injectors containing a human dose of tranquilizer filled the other.



Bastien paced the bedroom they shared, throwing off a real caged tiger vibe.



“Is it that you’re pissed?” she asked finally. “Or are you just worried?”



“Just worried?” he repeated. “We’re heading into the den of the men who shot you three times in the chest. Men who tortured Ami. Men who left piles of bodies behind at the compound Seth and David found. Just worried doesn’t cover it.”



“I’m immortal now, Bastien. I’m also wearing a vest. And I’ve already been trained, so it’s not like I’m going into this blind or unprepared.”



“Immortal doesn’t mean immortal. It means almost immortal.”



“You’re going up against the same people,” she pointed out. “Why—”



“I didn’t nearly die twice in recent weeks.”



“If I’ve cheated death twice, I can cheat it again.”



“Don’t joke about this.”



She sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m not taking all of this seriously. I’m taking it very seriously. I know any of us could be killed tonight. I also know that having me around to both kick ass and serve as a medic will be to your advantage. And if, when we find Cliff and Joe, either one of them has gone over the edge, I know that I’m most likely the only one who will be able to talk them down and bring them back under control without hurting them.”



“You think I can’t? I talked Vince down.”



“I know. But his psychosis was different than that afflicting Joe. Joe’s is infused with a lot more paranoia. At times it makes him view everyone—even you—as the enemy. Everyone but me. Which is why it’s so important that I’m there when you find him.”



Bastien ran a hand through his hair. “No wonder he took off when he thought you were dead.”



She twisted and bent and walked around, trying to acquaint herself with the feel of the weapons and ammo and the slight shifting of the holsters and belts and weighted pockets. Were she still human, it would have taken her time to get used to it. The ammo alone was surprisingly heavy. But her increased strength made it a breeze.



Bastien continued to pace restively.



“Bastien?”



He glanced over. “Yes?”



When his eyes flared, she forgot whatever she had intended to say. “What is it?” she asked, uncertain what emotion had struck him.



He raised his brows in question, his luminous gaze piercing as it traveled over her.



“Your eyes are glowing,” she said.



He shook his head. “I shouldn’t tell you.”



“You can tell me anything.”



“It’ll just encourage you,” he said and smiled wryly. “You look hot all geared up for a fight.”



A momentary brightness entered her being. “I do?”



He laughed and shook his head. “Yes, damn it.” He closed the distance between them and rested his hands on her hips. “Incredibly hot.” He drew her close until their noses touched. “I-want-to-rip-your-clothes-off-with-my-teeth hot.”



Shivers of arousal rippled through her at those husky words. Their doorbell rang, squelching any notion of engaging in a quickie.



So much soundproofing had been used to create this and the other quiet room that anyone inside—save Seth—couldn’t hear the knock of someone out in the hallway, so David had installed doorbells.



“To be continued?” Melanie suggested.



His hands tightened on her hips. “Are you sure you’re up to this? I’m not asking because you’re a woman, or a doctor, or an egghead.”



She grinned. He made egghead sound like an endearment.



“I’m asking because you’re fresh from your transformation.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “And because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”



“I’m up for it,” she assured him.



Dipping his head, he took her lips in a warm passionate kiss that carried with it his fear that it may be their last.



“It won’t be our last,” she promised. “Can you feel my certainty of that?”



“I can. How did you know what I was thinking?”



Reaching up, she stroked his face. “I just know you.”



The bell rang again.



Bastien sighed. Backing away, he released her and crossed to the bedroom door.



Tanner stood out in the hallway. “It’s time.”



Bastien’s Second was garbed in typical vampire-hunting togs like Melanie, but with fewer blades.



Something about him looked different, though.



Melanie studied him. Same lean form. Same broad shoulders. Hair still cut as short as an accountant’s. Oh! “Did you get contacts?”



He smiled, blue eyes no longer hidden behind spectacles. “No. David corrected my vision.”



“Really?” That was so cool.



He nodded. “He was worried that glasses or contacts would hinder me when I’m fighting, so he put his hand over my eyes, it got warm for a minute, then I could see perfectly.”



Melanie looked up at Bastien. “Why couldn’t I have been given that gift?”



He rubbed a hand up and down her back. “Even though you weren’t, you’re still a born healer.” He ushered her through the door. “Will you and the other Seconds be accompanying us?”



“To a point,” Tanner said. “We’re going to monitor things from a distance.”



Melanie wondered if that was wise. The humans at the network had pretty much gotten their asses kicked the last time.



Bastien shook his head. “I think the humans should stay out of it. You’re too vulnerable.”



“Not with the armored vehicles Chris and Seth commandeered for us.”



“Do you even know how to drive one of those things?”



“Hell, no. I’ve never driven anything with more than two doors. But Chris and Seth have apparently recruited a lot of military veterans over the years.”



A little twinge of nerves made Melanie’s stomach jump.



Bastien removed his hand from her back and twined his fingers through hers.



“How are you getting along with the other Seconds, Tanner?” she asked, needing a diversion.



“Fine.” His jaw tightened as he looked at Bastien. “Someone let my tragic past be known, so now everyone feels fucking sorry for me. Too sorry for me to condemn me for allying with vampires and this asshole.”



“It wasn’t me,” Bastien denied. “Your past is your business.”



Melanie didn’t know exactly what Tanner’s tragic past entailed, just that it had something to do with his son.



“I don’t even like any of those guys,” Bastien went on, not caring that those guys could hear him. “You think I sit around drinking tea and gossiping with them?”



“No, but if you thought them knowing about my son would soften them toward me and keep them from giving me shit, I doubt your FU attitude would prevent you from blabbing.”



Melanie pursed her lips. “Tanner, Bastien wouldn’t even clear up misconceptions about his own past. And doing so might keep the other immortals’ contempt from spilling over onto me when I defend him.”



Bastien squeezed her hand. “I thought it would be easier to just kick their asses if they said anything to you.”



Melanie gave Tanner a See what I’m saying? look.



Tanner frowned. “Well, who else could it have been? No one else knows.”



Bastien shrugged. “It must have been one of the telepaths. Those nosy bastards can dig around in your head and uncover anything.”



“Can you teach me how to keep them out?”



“I can try.”



“Great. Thanks.”



Bastien followed Melanie up the stairs and down the hallway to the large living room. A sea of black met them. Black shirts. Black pants. Black coats. Black Kevlar vests. Black weapons. Black hair.



The only spots of color were Ami’s and Sheldon’s red hair and Tracy and Chris’s blond locks.



So far the uneasy truce between Bastien and Reordon was holding. Uneasy being the key word.



The immortals turned as Bastien, Melanie, and Tanner entered. All bowed gallantly and smiled at Melanie, bidding her a good evening.



She smiled back. “Hi.”



As they had with Sarah, the immortals wanted her to feel welcome so strongly Bastien didn’t even have to touch them to feel it. No gifted one had willingly been transformed . . . ever . . . until Sarah and Melanie. Not that Melanie had had much of a choice. Transformation or death. She’d chosen the former. But an alarming number of gifted ones who had come before her had chosen the latter.



Bastien’s worry that their scorn for him would suck the warmth right out of any welcome they gave her appeared unfounded. Everyone in the room, including the Seconds, seemed determined to prevent her from regretting her decision.