Daysider

Chapter 5

Alexia heard her partner’s voice as if through muffling layers of gauze that seemed to fill her head and keep her thoughts from comprehending what was truly happening. Her body throbbed—not with pain, but pleasure—and her breasts ached as if she had scratched them on the sharp little branches of the manzanitas growing nearby.

She opened her eyes. It took her a moment to recognize what she was seeing: two faces, both male and as pitiless as the Court that had condemned Garret to a lifetime of servitude.

“Cover her up,” one of the men said—Michael, his blond hair mussed and his face smudged with dirt. The other man, the one whose scent still bathed her skin, laid something on top of her...his jacket, still warm from the heat of his body.

“Alexia,” Michael said, staring down at her. “Are you all right?”

No. Not all right. The pleasure was beginning to fade, replaced by a sense of something profoundly wrong with her body. She began to remember what had happened since Damon—yes, that was the other man—had left her alone, hot and shivering and barely aware that he had gone away.

Then there had been brief moments of lucidity between much longer spans of darkness, the consequences of the illness raging inside her body. When Damon had come back for her, she had been half out of her mind. More than half. She had known she needed something, something important, that only Damon could give her.

Garret. She had said something about Garret. And then she’d forgotten about her half brother, forgotten everything, and...

She felt frantically under the borrowed jacket. Her uniform shirt and undershirt were torn wide open. The bandage was gone, and her shoulder wound was nothing but a patch of puckered skin, cool to the touch. She brushed her lips with her fingers. They were bruised and sore.

God. What had she done? What had he done?

“I can kill him now if you want me to,” Michael said, his voice ringing with hatred. He held the muzzle of his gun to Damon’s temple, just as when they’d first met. Damon looked steadily at Alexia.

She tried to sit up, but a surging tide of dizziness forced her back down. The borrowed jacket slipped to the ground, and she pulled her own jacket closed over her breasts as she fought to clear her mind.

“No,” she said, as steadily as she could. “It wasn’t what you thought, Michael.”

“Then what was it? It looked to me like he was about ready to tear your chest open.”

Was that what he’d seen? Which would be worse—his believing that Damon meant to take her blood or that they were having sex in the middle of a dangerous mission?

Sex with a Daysider. And she’d been willing. More than willing.

“He didn’t hurt me,” she insisted. “It wasn’t his fault.”

Mike scowled at her, contempt in his eyes. Not only for Damon, but for her. Judging her, even before she had a chance to get him alone and explain.

How could she ever do that when she didn’t understand it herself?

“Where were you, Michael?” she asked.

He shifted his weight and looked away. “Scouting. I didn’t leave you, Alexia. I—”

“Did you know Damon and I were attacked?”

He blinked at her sudden question, hearing the anger in her voice. And she was angry.

At him, at Damon, at herself most of all. Herself, and the sickness that was stealing her mind and will and body bit by bit. Her bizarre behavior had tempted the predator in Damon, Darketan or not. If he looked chastened now, if there was any regret in his eyes, she doubted that it had anything to do with shame.

Had he taken her blood? She could find no sign of it, but then again a small enough bite would heal quickly, and chemicals in Nightsiders’ saliva both sterilized and closed the small incisions created when they fed.

A vague memory of tasting blood hovered on the edges of Alexia’s mind, and she nearly gagged. I couldn’t have, she thought. It isn’t possible.

“We were shot at by unknown assailants,” she said, forcing the image out of her mind.

“Possibly from the colony. You didn’t hear the gunshots?”

“No.” Michael’s skin had paled beneath the dark smears across his face. “Were you injured?”

“How does it appear to you?” Damon asked him scathingly.

Michael made a threatening gesture. Despising her vulnerable position, Alexia tried to sit up again. Damon reached for her. She flinched away, and Michael’s finger twitched on the trigger.

“I’m fine,” she said, pretending to ignore Damon even though her flesh felt as if a million tiny circuits were sending bursts of electricity racing through every nerve. “But because of the attack, we haven’t been able to get close to the colony.”

“It’s worse than that,” Damon said quietly. “They’ve set up a defense perimeter between us and the settlement. We aren’t getting anywhere near it now, not without a fight.”

“Then the colonists saw you,” Mike said, glaring at Damon.

“Or they were expecting intruders,” she said.

Damon craned his neck to look up at Michael, forcing the rifle’s muzzle away from his cheek. “How did you get through?” he asked.

“Shut up,” Michael growled.

“It’s a good question,” Alexia said, wondering why, after what had just happened, she could take Damon’s side against her partner’s. “Were you able to observe the colony, Michael?”

“While I was reconnoitering, I discovered that there was another enemy agent in the vicinity.”

“Nightsider?” she asked, trying to sit up again.

“He was wearing heavy clothes, so that’s a good bet.” Michael nudged Damon with the rifle again. “You didn’t say anything about other Erebus operatives running around out here.”

“He told me it was likely there were,” Alexia said, “but he didn’t know who or what their assignments would be.”

“That’s convenient.” Michael said, staring down at Damon. “Think any of them could have been sent out to get rid of us while you were keeping us distracted, leech?”

“I would have been informed were that the case,” Damon said.

“Oh,” Michael said, sarcasm turning his words almost sickeningly sweet. “That’s all right, then.”

“What happened to the Nightsider you were following?” Alexia asked, cutting in before Michael could work himself into another rage.

“I tracked him most of the night, but he never went anywhere near the settlement.”

“He didn’t hear you?”

“No.” Mike’s voice turned defensive. “I thought seeing what he was up to was worth my staying away a little longer. Obviously I made a mistake.”

More than you know, Alexia thought grimly. “Why did you stop?” she asked.

“I lost him. He could be anywhere right now.”

“And we can’t assume he wasn’t one of the shooters.” She raised her hand to forestall Damon’s protest. “We can’t eliminate any possibility. He could have been from the colony. We need to get through that perimeter to find out what’s going on. Now that you’re back, Michael, we can work out a plan to create a diversion so that one of us can get closer to the settlement.”

“Are you including him in this plan?” Michael asked, prodding at Damon’s neck.

Damon’s next move was almost too swift to follow. He literally turned on himself, striking Michael’s gun aside as he twisted his body in a way Alexia wouldn’t have believed possible. In three seconds he had Michael pinned to the ground like a rabbit between a leopard’s paws.

“The question,” Damon said through his teeth, “is whether or not you can be trusted.”

Michael heaved against him, but Damon easily held the agent down with his hand around Michael’s throat and one knee pressed to his chest.

“Damon!” Alexia said, climbing to her knees. “Let him go!”

He continued to stare into Michael’s eyes. “Maybe he stayed away because he knew we were going to be attacked.”

“That’s insane,” Michael said, wheezing the words through his constricted throat.

“Stop it!” Alexia shouted. “How do you think he would have known that? Are you accusing him of working for the enemy?”

“No. Only of cowardice.”

Michael made a noise of pure fury and clamped his hands around Damon’s wrist.

Damon tightened his grip. Alexia gathered her legs underneath her, stiffened her muscles and stood up. She managed to stay on her feet for five seconds before she began to sway.

Damon snapped his head toward her. “Sit down!” he commanded.

“Alexia!” Michael croaked. “What—”

“She’s ill,” Damon said to Michael, showing a glint of his right incisor, “and it’s because of you. ”

Michael ceased his struggles and tried to look at Alexia. “You said you weren’t hurt!”

“She was lying,” Damon said. “She was badly wounded in the attack. She recovered from that, but something else is wrong with her. Some kind of illness. You’re going to tell me what it—” Alexia’s legs collapsed beneath her. Damon leaped up and caught her before she hit the ground. Michael was at her side a moment later.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded as Damon gently lowered her to the ground. “Alex, what’s going on?”

“My body’s still healing,” she said, her teeth chattering. “That’s all.”

Damon cupped the side of her face, sliding his thumb over her cheekbone.

“Get your hands off her,” Michael said through his teeth, grabbing Damon’s wrist.

With hardly a glance, Damon broke free and pushed Michael back, shoving him onto his knees.

“Stop!” Alexia gasped. “He saved my life, Michael!”

Michael resumed his previous position, carefully avoiding Damon’s eyes. He didn’t try to interfere as Damon unbuttoned Alexia’s jacket and peeled it back behind her shoulders. When it was out of the way, Michael pushed the torn edges of her shirt and undershirt aside and touched the place above her right breast where the bullets had hit.

“It’s already healed,” he said. He lifted one of her eyelids. “Hyperemia,” he said. He took her wrist. “Rapid heartbeat. Has she had a fever?”

“I’m still here,” she said testily. “You can ask me. ”

“Have you?” Michael asked.

“The best thing you can do is leave me alone and let me heal.”

Michael ignored her and pushed her shirt open over her left shoulder. She tried to stop him, but she wasn’t strong enough, and Damon didn’t interfere. Exposing the underside of her upper left arm, Michael cursed.

“Your patch,” he said. “For God’s sake, Alexia, what happened?”

She glanced at Damon. His gaze jerked from the unhealed wound to Michael’s face, and his eyes narrowed.

Don’t say anything, she begged Michael silently. She didn’t want to know if Damon had made it possible for someone to take the patch. If she was going to die anyway...

“What happened?” her partner repeated.

She closed her eyes. “When I was wounded,” she said slowly, “I was out for several hours. Damon was shot after I fell unconscious. He managed to bind my wounds before he went into healing stasis. He was still out when I woke up, and that was when I found out that someone had cut the patch out of my arm.”

“Someone,” Michael spat. He turned on Damon. “Where is it?”

Damon met his accusing stare without reaction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

Bunching his fist, Michael swung at Damon. Damon ducked easily and rocked back on his heels.

“That’s enough!” Alexia said. “If you two don’t behave yourselves, I’ll—” A cough rattled in her chest, swallowing the impotent threat. She settled back again, sensing how close she was to sinking into a morass of despair from which she might never emerge.

It was too late now. Too late to pretend. She rolled her head to the side, meeting Damon’s eyes. She glimpsed something in them she hadn’t seen before.

Fear.

“Did you?” she asked hoarsely. “Did you have something to do with this?”

He stared at the exposed wound, his expression gone cold. “No.” His gaze returned to her face. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this other injury?”

“You knew about it,” Michael said, jumping to his feet. “This is what you were after all along, wasn’t it? You don’t give a damn if she dies.”

Damon rose to face him. “Why should she die?” he asked. “What is a ‘patch’?”

“I’m not dead yet,” Alexia said with asperity. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk over me as if I were.”

Both men looked down at her. Mike had tears in his eyes. He glanced back in the direction of the bushes where Damon had tossed his rifle.

Damon moved before he did. He covered the space in two strides and swept up the gun, aiming it squarely at Michael’s chest.

“Tell me what this is about,” he said, his voice deadly quiet, “and perhaps I won’t kill you.”

“Frickin’ leech,” Michael gasped. “She trusted you.”

Damon stalked toward Michael like the big, tawny cat Alexia had imagined, coming to stand toe-to-toe with his enemy. He jabbed the rifle into Michael’s ribs.

“Take off your pack.”

Michael obeyed with a sneer and tossed the pack, VS120 still attached, toward the bushes.

“Your other weapons,” Damon said.

Her partner removed his pistol and combat knife and threw them after the pack.

“Now,” Damon said, “talk.”

“I’ll tell you,” Alexia said softly. “Look at me.”

He looked, though every muscle in his body was tense with readiness to attack should Michael make the smallest attempt to break away.

Alexia held his gaze. “A percentage of dhampires, like me,” she said, carefully watching his face, “are born without the ability to digest normal food. We wear patches that deliver certain drugs directly into our bloodstream, which allows us to eat like humans. Without it—” She shrugged, though the movement sent needles of pain into her arm.

There was nothing in Damon’s expression to indicate his emotions, but his eyes told a different story. In a human or dhampir, she would have called them stricken. Horrified.

It was possible that he was feigning the reaction. She would be wise to make that assumption. But she could still feel his warm breath on her face, his lips on hers. And though she despised her lack of control and his willingness to take advantage of her body’s mindless urges, she couldn’t make herself believe that he had led her into a trap.

“I didn’t know, Alexia,” he said quietly.

“Liar,” Michael said. “You were with her when you were attacked, and someone who knew what to look for took her patch. Pretty convenient, isn’t it?”

To Alexia’s relief, Damon ignored her partner and addressed Alexia again. “We considered the likelihood that the gunman who attacked us the first time—”

“The first time?” Michael interrupted.

“—after Carter left us,” Damon went on with a severe glance at Michael, “was from the colony, attempting to drive off intruders. That still seems the most likely explanation for the second attack. Though I knew nothing of this patch or its importance, it is quite possible someone in the colony did.”

“And why would they take it?” Michael asked. “I can see why Erebus would want anything that they could turn into a weapon against us, but an illegal settlement wouldn’t have the Citadel’s resources. Were your friends planning to trade it to Erebus in exchange for being left alone?”

“The colonists are not my friends, ” Damon retorted. “I am here to—”

“Do you have any proof that the colonists did this?” Michael asked, thrusting his face closer to Damon’s as if the rifle weren’t jabbing him in the belly. “Or did you make sure there was no evidence to find?”

Damon bared his teeth. “I’ve had enough of your accusations,” he said. “If you say another word, I’ll put a gag in your mouth.”

“He didn’t do it, Michael,” Alexia said, her mind foggy with exhaustion. “They hurt him, too. He could have died.”

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Michael demanded, disbelief in his voice. “What in hell are you thinking, Alexia? Who screwed who?”

With a grunt of rage, Damon hit Michael on the side of the head. Michael staggered and fell to his knees. Alexia rolled onto her stomach and crawled over to him, grabbing his arm as much for support as to protect him.

“Kill me first,” she said, looking up at Damon’s stony face. “I’m going to die, anyway.”

“No,” Damon said. He tossed the gun back into the bushes. “Tell me what must be done.”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Michael said, rubbing at his temple. “Not unless I can get her back to the Border and into a hospital.”

Alexia tried to laugh. “That isn’t going to happen,” she said. “I thought about it. But I’m a lot weaker than I expected to be at his point.”

“What else?” Damon asked Michael as if she hadn’t spoken. “There must be another way.”

Mike stared straight ahead, his jaw working. “I might be able to reach the Border in time to get her another patch.”

“Then that is what you must do.”

Implacable hatred still burned in Michael’s eyes. “Why do you care? What have you to gain? Another chance to screw her while she’s helpless? Drain her dry?”

“Michael!” Alexia said, jerking on his arm to silence him before Damon decided to do it himself. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t let you risk it. We’ve been shot at twice, and at least one unknown Nightsider is probably still at large in the area. You’ll be killed.”

“But the defensive perimeter was clearly established to prevent us from going near the colony,” Damon said, staring at Michael with death in his eyes. “They would surely allow a retreat.” He backed away, letting Michael get up. “You will return to the Enclave and acquire one of these patches. I will provide cover in the event that you are attacked.

Are we agreed?”

Michael glanced down at Alexia, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. What she didn’t understand was why he was still acting like an untrained novice who hadn’t learned to keep personal emotions out of the job.

And that was why she had to let him go. Her own emotions told her to protect him, but he had to get back to Aegis, not for her sake, but to tell them about the patch. There was nothing else she could do to keep him from harm or prevent him from attempting what she knew he had in mind.

“Agreed,” Michael said to Damon, avoiding her eyes. “You’ll have to return my weapons.”

Damon waved his hand. “Take them.” He bent to help Alexia to a sitting position, but Michael got between them and did it himself. He rested his hand possessively on Alexia’s

“good” shoulder and faced Damon with head high and shoulders drawn back in defiance.

“Are you sure you can’t make it, Alexia?” he asked without looking at her. “You know you can’t trust him. Even if he didn’t have any part in stealing your patch, he’ll still do whatever his masters tell him to. You don’t have the strength to fight him now. If they tell him to kill you, he will.”

“They gave no such orders,” Damon said, holding Alexia’s gaze.

“But you’d destroy anyone who stood in the way of your mission,” Michael said.

“Even if it meant your own death.”

“And we would do the same,” Alexia said before Damon could answer. “I’m not afraid, Michael. Not of Damon, and not of dying.”

Michael swore and walked away. He retrieved his weapons and returned to set his VS and a box of ammunition on the ground beside her.

“Take this,” he said. “And take care of yourself, Alex.” He cast Damon a scathing glance and strode to the other side of the oak to wait.

“Alexia,” Damon murmured, kneeling beside her.

His nearness set her nerves to jangling again. She had to be tough now. She couldn’t afford any vulnerability when she was completely in his power and sick enough to lose her head the way she had just before Michael’s arrival.

“If you’re going to go, go,” she said, struggling to pull her jacket up again.

He helped her, though she shook him off once the jacket was safely closed over her chest. “If I had known—” he began.

“Do you think I’d admit that kind of weakness to an enemy?”

She could have sworn he flinched. “I would never harm you,” he said softly.

“Don’t lie for my sake. Michael was right. We may have worked as a team and saved each other’s lives for the sake of expedience, but you’ll kill me if you thought it was necessary to protect your people.”

“But it is not,” he said. “Quite the contrary.” He picked up his jacket and pulled it on.

“You are being irrational. As I told you before, if I’d been sent to kill you, you would be dead. As your partner must know, if he could look beyond his hatred.”

She met his gaze again. “Don’t you hate us just as much?”

“My personal opinions are hardly relevant.”

“I know what hate is, and I see it in your eyes when you look at Michael. I’d say that was pretty personal.”

His mouth tightened. “My judgment of your partner changes nothing. I won’t let you die.”

“You might not have any choice.”

He leaned over her, bracing himself on his muscular arms. “I forbid it.”

“I’m not one of your harem serfs.” Her face grew hot, and she hardened her will. “Or do you think we have some...connection because of what happened before Michael showed up? That was my sickness, not me.”

“I was not ill,” Damon said huskily.

“But you have your instincts. You may be an outsider among your own people, but you’re still a predator under your civilized exterior, just like the rest of them. I was vulnerable, and you thought you could take advantage of that, one way or another.”

“And you wanted something from me, Alexia,” he said, “or was that your sickness, as well?”

“I was crazy. If you think I wanted to have sex with you—” He drew back, his expression going blank. “I will not trouble you again.”

Because I’ll kill myself first, Alexia thought, though her cheeks burned under his gaze.

She took herself in hand and released her breath. “Do you really intend to get Michael to safety?”

The light flickering between the oak’s branches shifted, pulling new shadows from Damon’s face. “I wasn’t lying.”

“But you have an idea what losing the patch can do to a dhampir, and you can guess the likely consequences once Aegis finds out that Nightsiders have one, colonists or not.

If you work for the Council and they want to keep the peace, you might think it would be better not to let Michael make his report.”

Damon’s pupils constricted to pinpoints, lost in a deep and turbulent sea of blue. “If I killed him, I would have to kill you.”

“Yes. Because if I live, I’ll eventually make the same report. But if you kill him, I won’t survive, anyway.”

Something happened to Damon then, an unfurling of the rage she had glimpsed once or twice before when he’d sparred with Michael, but multiplied a hundredfold. His eyes narrowed, his lips drew back and his body seemed to expand and broaden like the hood on a striking cobra.

She knew that was illusion. But what she saw in his terrible gaze was not, and suddenly he was far less human than animal—some kind of animal she didn’t recognize, a creature neither Nightsider nor Daysider nor dhampir.

Because there was no rationality in that stare, in that expression, only pure, raw emotion. Whatever moved him now was nothing like what anyone dealing with vampires had ever reported before. Mindless savagery turned his face into a caricature of a man, lost to reason or even the leeches’ twisted morality.

The face of a killer that no rules, no weapons, no will could stop. A monster she had somehow awakened with her careless words, her bitter accusations.

It wasn’t some kind of act meant to scare her. It was terrifyingly real. Damon was going insane before her eyes, and she didn’t know how to stop it.