Phantom Shadows

Chapter 14

Seth materialized in David’s home and followed the sounds of voices to David’s study.

Darnell was talking on the phone while typing furiously on the computer keyboard.

“What’s happened?”

Darnell jumped and spun around, dropping the phone. No relief swept his countenance as he hurried to pick it up. “The network was attacked.”

“By vampires?” How the hell had vampires found them?

“No, by Emrys’s men. No estimates yet on how many are dead.”

Seth teleported to the network . . . and had difficulty believing what he saw. Bright golden sunlight illuminated the destruction. Almost everything above ground had been obliterated. Even the paved parking lot bore large craters. A few jagged chunks of wall still stood, weary reminders of the building’s dimensions. Charcoal smoke stretched to the sky and formed dark, wispy clouds.

Seth could see the first sublevel through gaping holes in the foundation. Surrounding the building’s skeleton were two downed helicopters, several armored personnel carriers, and four Humvees. Bodies of the mercenaries formed piles around the places immortals had stood their ground. Damned near everything present bore scorch marks or bullet holes. Large bullet holes.

The scent of death clung to every surface.

A war had been fought here. With all of the casualties that went with it.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Seth swore. A hasty inspection of the various vehicles revealed a few that were salvageable. Seth held his hand out and sent them to the field bordering the building Chris—if he lived—was no doubt already setting up as the new network headquarters. Teleporting something or someone without touching or accompanying it took a lot more energy (no other immortal could do it), but he had little choice with fire engines speeding toward him.

The other vehicles he sent to the bottom of the Mariana Trench, the deepest part of the world’s oceans. The dead soldiers he sent to the morgue at the new headquarters. Perhaps network employees could identify them.

A wave of his hand produced a breeze that scattered and dispersed the smoke.

Then Seth sped into the lower levels of the network.

The scents of blood and smoke burned his nostrils. Broken bodies lay amid the rubble. Seth listened hard for a heartbeat and found none. Not on Sublevel 1. On Sublevel 2. Nor on the remaining three. The damage Emrys’s men had done astounded him, reaching all the way down to the fifth basement level.

The wall at the end of the hallway had been blown, opening the escape tunnel for survivors.

The tunnel was a long one that led up to the basement of a single story home with no neighbors and no outward connection to the larger building.

How many had escaped through it?

The floor was red with blood that had dripped from the injured as they were helped to safety. He could smell the fear and pain of those who had passed through here.

The sirens grew louder, then stopped above his head. Seth raced up to deal with them, ready to erase memories and plant new ones. His strength was flagging, not from his battle earlier with the vampires in South Korea, but from the teleporting he had done to clean up some of the mess topside. By the time he finished dealing with the firemen and policemen who would likely follow, he would barely be able to put one foot in front of the other.

Three fire engines awaited him, parked, motors idling, lights flashing, sirens off. Seth strode forward as several firemen emerged and walked toward him.

“Mr. Seth?” one said.

Hmm. “Just Seth.”

The man nodded. “Mr. Reordon sent us, sir.”

Seth sent a big Thank you Chris’s way. Even when all hell broke loose around him, Chris managed to get shit done. He was a good man.

“Did he have a particular explanation in mind?” Seth asked. Chris had a knack for making just about anyone believe anything.

“Gas leak.”

Tried and true.

The men made their careful way through the wreckage.

“Any chance you could block the view of the elevator shaft? This’ll go down easier if we don’t have to explain all of the floors below ground.”

Seth nodded.

It took some doing, but he managed to cover the shaft with large portions of toppled wall and other debris. It probably wouldn’t hold if some idiot jumped up and down on it, but lookers wouldn’t be able to tell there were five floors underground.

More firemen arrived, legitimate ones this time. Policemen followed. Seth discarded his coat and altered their memories of speaking with him so they wouldn’t remember the bloodstains on his clothing. He also removed any doubt they possessed regarding the cause of the fire and explosions some nearby claimed they had heard. When a news helicopter rumbled overhead, Seth directed the pilot and news crew away.

He didn’t know how much time passed before he succeeded in clearing the scene of anyone who wasn’t on the network’s payroll.

Fatigued pulled at him. He hadn’t slept in a couple of days and the various and assorted stunts he’d had to pull here to cover their asses had cost him a lot of energy.

“Sir?”

Seth turned.

The same mock-fireman who had spoken to him earlier approached, tucking a cell phone into his back pocket. “Something’s going on over at the new network headquarters. Something to do with Sebastien Newcomb. Mr. Reordon could use your help.”

Of course. Sebastien couldn’t seem to go a single day without spawning chaos somewhere. Seth was beginning to lose patience with him.

Thanking the faux fireman, he teleported to the new network building to see what Sebastien had done now.

Melanie had never felt so exhausted in her life. Just opening her eyes seemed a chore. “Bastien?”

The stark whiteness of the infirmary’s ceiling, floor, and walls met her gaze. What she could see of it. The privacy curtain had been drawn, blocking her view of half the room.

Confused, she took in the IV, the machines monitoring her. Felt the weakness that suffused seemingly every cell of her body.

Had she been injured again? She could think of no other explanation. But how? Had she gone hunting with Bastien and Richart? The last thing she remembered was Bastien bringing Stuart to the network.

She sensed movement on the other side of the curtain and could’ve sworn she heard someone call someone else an asshole.

“Bastien?”

The curtain slid back.

Melanie stared at Bastien as he stepped up to her bedside. His hair was slicked back. Behind him Linda, Richart, Étienne, Lisette, Sarah, and Roland stood. Étienne’s clothes were cut and torn and bloody as though he had been fighting. And he kept shifting uncomfortably as if he had sand in his underwear.

Sarah seemed to have some blood splatter on her face. And her knuckles were crusted over with drying blood.

They must have just returned from hunting.

Bastien took her hand, rubbed his thumb across her skin in soothing circles. His warmth infused her icy flesh and traveled up her arm to fill her chest.

Her gaze strayed to Roland. Why was he here? Roland and Bastien in the same room usually spelled disaster.

Wait. Was that a hole in the wall back there? It was hard to see around the towering men.

Bastien didn’t possess any visible injuries, though. Neither did Roland. So . . . what had damaged the wall and why was Roland here? Had he healed her again?

“What happened?” she asked Bastien. “Did I go hunting with you again?”

He shook his head. “Stuart was a pawn. Emrys got his hands on him before our rendezvous and injected a tiny electronic device beneath Stuart’s skin that allowed Emrys and his mercenaries to track him anywhere he went.”

They could track him? Alarm rushed through her. “Then they know he’s here. They’ll find him. They’ll find us, the network.”

He touched a hand to her shoulder to keep her from rising. “They already did. They attacked in force just before dawn.”

She took in the grave expressions of the others. That explained the hole in the wall. “You held them off? Is it safe here? Won’t they return?”

“We defeated them, but they were heavily armed.”

Richart nodded. “And their numbers were such that we could not begin to estimate them.”

“The network’s headquarters was reduced to rubble,” Bastien finished.

“I don’t understand.” She looked around the familiar infirmary. “We’re in the network’s headquarters.”

Linda stepped up beside Bastien and patted Melanie’s knee. “No, honey. This is another building. You know how Mr. Reordon takes every freaking precaution imaginable to the nth degree to ensure all of our safety?”

“Yes.”

“Well, one of those precautions included constructing an identical headquarters building in Greensboro.”

“This isn’t the building we worked in every day?”

“No. It looks exactly like it, doesn’t it? Just . . . newer and cleaner. There are even apartments across the hall for the vampires.”

The vampires.

Melanie met Bastien’s brown gaze. “Are Cliff and Joe okay?”

His grip tightened. “They’re gone. Everything was utter chaos. Joe chose to escape in the middle of it all.”

“And Cliff?”

“The mercenaries got him. We think they might have Joe, too.”

Horror filled her. Emrys would torture them. To learn about the virus. To get information. He would dissect them while they were still living and breathing. And the madness she had worked so hard to help Cliff and Joe stave off would claim them wholly as a result.

Her eyes began to burn. Tears spilled over her lashes. “We have to get them back.”

“We will,” Bastien said. “I will. I vow it. But . . . there’s more.” He sat on the edge of her bed.

Her heart began to pound painfully in her chest. “What? What is it?”

“At my urging, Chris let the vampires out to help evacuate the injured and fight off the mercenaries who infiltrated the building.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. His eyes began to glow, revealing the inner turmoil roiling within him. “Stuart was wounded. Pretty seriously apparently and . . . he bit you.”

“One bite won’t—”

“He infected you, Melanie. He claims he bit you to heal his wounds, then panicked when he realized he had unintentionally drained you and you were dying. He transfused you, infecting you on a massive scale. Dr. Whetsman and the others worked fast to replace the infected blood with human blood. But . . . the damage has been done. Your immune system has been compromised and they have no hope that it will recover.”

“Are you saying I have no immune system?”

“Yes.”

“I’m dying.” Their expressions told her they already knew that. But she needed to say it out loud to wrap her mind around it. She had no immune system. At all. She wouldn’t live another twenty-four hours.

Bastien looked over his shoulder.

Roland stepped forward. “Bastien has asked me to transform you, Dr. Lipton, if you so desire it.”

Transform her. Make her an immortal. Like Bastien.

She had always known the option was there for her and had intended to take advantage of it. She was a gifted one, after all. It just had always seemed like something that would happen in the distant future. Not now.

She focused on Bastien. “Why Roland? Why don’t you want to transform me?” It hurt that he would rather someone else do it.

Leaning forward, he stroked her face in a loving gesture she was surprised he would let the others witness. “I want you to be strong like Sarah. I want you to have every advantage over our enemies. I want you to be able to kick my ass when you get tired of my bullshit.”

She covered his hand with hers, understanding now why such seemed to take so much effort.

Roland nodded somberly. “We all want you to be able to kick Bastien’s ass. And you don’t have to wait to get tired of his bullshit.”

Melanie smiled. “I admit, there were times I would’ve already done so if I could.”

Everyone laughed.

Except for Bastien. His brow remained furrowed with concern. “Will you do it? Will you let Roland transform you? I’ll be right here. I won’t leave you.”

She found enough strength to squeeze his hand. “I will. But I don’t want you to stay.” Yes, she did. She really, really did. “I’m going to be out of commission for a few days and—”

“You’ll do it? You’ll become an immortal?”

“Yes.”

The relief that swept his handsome features was heartrending. For a moment she thought he would weep with it. “Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to her hand. “As I said, I won’t leave you. I’ll stay with you and help you through the transformation.”

She shook her head. “As much as I would like you to stay with me, finding Cliff and Joe is more important than holding my hair for me while I vomit.”

“I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

Linda rested a hand on his shoulder. “I could watch over her at night while you hunt. Then you could take over during the day.”

Bastien seemed surprised by the offer. “Thank you.” He looked at Melanie. “Is that what you want?”

“Sounds good.” Melanie drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, nervous butterflies fluttering in her belly. “Okay then, can we go ahead and do this? The sooner we get it done, the sooner I’ll stop feeling like this.”

Bastien started to rise. Roland cupped his shoulder and eased him back down, then walked around to the other side of the bed.

Melanie searched out Sarah’s gaze. “You’re okay with this?”

Smiling, Sarah nodded. “It won’t bind the two of you together or anything.”

Jeeze. She hadn’t even thought of that. That was good to know. “Does it hurt?”

“I don’t remember Roland biting me.”

Of course she didn’t. Melanie had forgotten the GHB-like chemical the glands above their fangs produced and released under the pressure of a bite.

“What about the rest of it?”

“It’s like having the worst case of the flu ever. You’ll be miserable as hell for about three days. But, if you’re like me, you won’t remember most of it.”

Melanie nodded. “It’s worth it.”

Sarah smiled at her husband. “It really is.”

Roland winked at Sarah and carefully removed the IV, needle, and tape.

Melanie’s heart slammed against her ribs. Her eyes sought and clung to Bastien’s. “I’m nervous.” She needn’t say it. Everyone but Linda could hear the physical manifestations of it. “Were you nervous?”

He smiled. “My transformation took several weeks. Definitely not the way I would recommend being transformed, by the way. And when I realized what was happening, I was terrified.”

Roland lifted her free arm off the mattress. “Do you want a warning, or should I do it on the sly?”

“Warning.”

“Then consider this your warning.”

She nodded.

His lips parted. His fangs descended. Bending his head, he sank his teeth into her arm at the bend of her elbow where she had donated blood so often.

She gritted her teeth. It felt like twin needles piercing her.

Where was the erotic ecstasy vampire bites inspired in movies and novels and TV shows? Not that she wanted to feel that for Roland.

Bastien brushed his hand over her hair. “Okay?”

“Yes.” She smiled up at him, feeling very mellow all of a sudden. “You’re cute with your hair slicked back like that.”

Someone snickered.

Bastien’s smile widened. “Thank you. Shall I wear it like this more often?”

“Absolutely. It makes me want to run my fingers through it and muss it up.”

His eyes flared amber.

“I like that, too,” she said. Were her words beginning to slur? “I like it when your eyes glow. You’re so beautiful.”

“I don’t know about her,” Étienne murmured, “but I’m beginning to feel rather nauseated.”

Melanie laughed. “He’s just jealous because you’re hotter than he is.”

Bastien gave her a rueful smile. “Perhaps it would be best if you rested and didn’t speak.”

“Why? I feel . . . I feel great. So relaxed and . . .”

The lights went out. No. No, wait. She had just closed her eyes.

Opening them, she examined Bastien with a grin. “You look like those women in the old Star Trek TV show episodes.”

Someone guffawed in the background.

Bastien smiled and frowned at the same time. “I don’t know how to take that.”

“It’s like I’m seeing you through a soft focus camera. You’re all blurry and pretty.”

More male laughter.

“Jackasses,” a woman with a French accent said. “Stop laughing. She can’t help it.”

“We’re not laughing at her. We’re laughing at him.”

“Ignore them,” Bastien said, leaning forward to stroke her hair again.

Melanie practically purred with pleasure. “You know what I want to do when I’m immortal?”

“What’s that?”

She licked her lips. “I want to make love with you again.” His eyes flared brighter. “I want to know what your bare body will feel like against mine when all of my senses are heightened.”

A throat cleared. “Okay. This is starting to get personal. I’m thinking maybe you should get us out of here, Richart.”

“Good idea. Lisette, are you coming with us?”

“Oui.”

Bastien leaned in close, still holding her hand. “You shouldn’t say such things, sweetheart.”

She tried to move her other arm, but couldn’t. Someone was holding it.

“Don’t move your arm, love,” Bastien instructed softly.

A winter chill seemed to settle into her body. “I’m cold,” she said, shivering.

Bastien turned away. “Do you have another blanket?” Releasing her hand, he shook out a blanket and draped it over her. “Better?”

When he leaned down again, she touched his face, stroked his jaw. “It isn’t true.”

“What isn’t?”

Her eyelids felt so heavy. “Not too good for you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“If . . . were . . . wouldn’t be . . . falling in love with . . .”

Bastien stared at Melanie, his heart jackhammering in his chest.

She was falling in love with him?

Just the possibility of it left him feeling as euphoric as if he were himself a mortal who had been bitten.

He had known she was attracted to him, that she had tender feelings for him. Hell, he had used any damned excuse he could find to brush up against her so he could let those emotions wash over him. But he hadn’t realized . . .

He knew he loved her. His desire to spend every moment he could with her, his need to protect her, and the happiness that filled him whenever she smiled at him could be nothing less.

But Melanie . . .

How could she love him? How could she think he was good enough for her? He would never be worthy of her.

He looked at Roland, who watched him closely, lips locked on Melanie’s arm.

He looked at Linda.

“I’m pretty sure she would’ve preferred to tell you that in private,” she murmured.

“You don’t think it’s just the influence of the bite confusing her?”

“No. She talks about you all the time. Has for weeks.” She clamped her lips shut. “And now I feel guilty as hell for telling you that. Crap. Forget I said anything.”

Melanie talked about him to Linda?

He opted to look at the woman who had the most reason to hate him last.

“You’re an empath, Bastien,” Sarah said, voice kind. “Surely you knew.”

Melanie’s cold hand grew warm as Roland began to infuse her with the blood he had taken from her. Blood that now carried the virus in large enough amounts to effect a swift transformation.

Bastien said nothing more.

The infirmary door opened and Chris strode in. “What’s going on?” He stopped short when he saw the damage done to the room. “Damn it! We haven’t been here twenty-four hours and you’ve already wrecked the place? At least tell me you destroyed—” He looked over, caught sight of Bastien, and swore.

His eyes widened when he saw Roland standing beside Melanie’s bed with his fangs buried deeply in her arm. “You’re transforming her?”

Bastien nodded and prepared to fight the human if Chris tried to stop them.

“Please, tell me you got her permission first.”

Sarah stepped forward. “We did.”

He relaxed. “Make a list of everything she’ll need during the transformation and I’ll get it.”

Though Bastien believed him, he would feel better if Melanie endured the illness that would soon assault her at David’s place, where the elder immortal would be on hand to aid her if something went wrong. “She’ll have everything she needs at David’s.”

Chris studied the others.

Bastien caught Sarah’s eye and willed her to defend his decision. Chris would never let them take her otherwise.

Sarah produced a smile. “She might be more comfortable in a home environment than she would here. And David will be right there if she should need him. He helped me through my transformation.”

Chris nodded. “All right. If you’d like me to arrange to have a doctor stationed in David’s infirmary for the duration, let me know.”

“I’ll do it,” Linda jumped in.

Chris drew his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll—”

Seth abruptly appeared. His eyes surveyed the room, went to Roland and Melanie, and flashed a brilliant gold.

Oh. Shit.

“Did you gain her permission?”

“Yes,” they all hastened to declare.

The luminescence faded, leaving his eyes a brown so dark they were nearly black.

Roland completed the transfusion. As his fangs retracted, he touched his fingers to the bite marks and healed them, then lowered Melanie’s arm gently to the covers. “I thought I would never transform a mortal. Now I’ve transformed two.”

Sarah joined him and leaned into his side, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Seth crossed to stand beside Bastien. Reaching down, he rested his hand atop Melanie’s hair.

How well did he know her?

“We should take her to David’s,” Seth said. “She’ll be more comfortable there. And safe.” He gave the damage to the other part of the room a quick once-over and sighed. “I’m not even going to ask.”

Melanie wondered how many times she would have to hang her head over the damned toilet before her stomach got the message that there wasn’t anything left to come up.

When the latest bout of retching finally ceased, she sat on the floor and leaned back against the huge whirlpool tub, too weary to rise. She was nearing the end of day two of her transformation and so wanted it to be over with already.

Sarah had warned her it would be like this, that it would feel as if she had contracted the worst case of the flu ever. Fever, aches, majorly unsettled stomach, a fluctuating migraine. Her muscles felt like she imagined they would if she had never exercised a day in her life, then spent a week working out for hours every day with heavy weights. She was hot. And cold. Her body shivered while heat flayed her just beneath the skin and poured out of her eye sockets.

Melanie grimaced at the image that evoked and told herself to get up and drag her weak ass back into the bedroom.

Minutes passed and she didn’t move.

Oh well. She’d just have to come back in here and gag her head off in half an hour anyway. May as well stick around.

She contemplated her new sumptuous accommodations. Glass tile in soothing green tones. Dark wood cabinets. Bright white sink and tub. Shiny chrome fixtures. Bamboo plants. Fluffy white towels. It was like being in an expensive spa.

Closing her eyes, she rested her head back against the tub.

“Dr. Lipton?”

Frowning, Melanie pried her eyes open. Had she fallen asleep?

Peering up at the small figure leaning over her, she tried to get her eyes to focus. “Ami?”

“Yes. Are you all right?”

“Sure.” She couldn’t seem to get Ami and the rest of the room to quit swirling around.

“Where’s Linda?”

Something about an emergency at the network? Or a Second being injured? Melanie couldn’t remember.

“Can I help you back to bed?”

“Okay.”

Decked out in hunting garb, Ami crouched down in front of her and pulled Melanie’s arms around her neck.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Ami locked her hands behind Melanie’s back, then hoisted her to her feet.

Melanie’s knees buckled. “I don’t know.”

Though smaller than her, Ami shifted Melanie to one side and pretty much carried her into the bedroom. “Why were you on the bathroom floor?”

“Whatever they’re eating upstairs keeps making me sick.”

“You can smell that down here?”

“You can’t?” The scent was so strong they may as well have been cooking it in the damn room with her.

Ami helped her into bed and pressed a hand to Melanie’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

The sheets felt cold against her skin, inspiring a tidal wave of shivers.

Ami arranged Melanie’s limp body comfortably and drew the covers up to her chin. “She’s burning up,” she said softly.

Bastien loomed over the bed. “Melanie?” His hand was cool against her fiery forehead. His hair was windblown. His clothes were wet in places. His skin smelled of sweet North Carolina nights and something metallic. He must have just returned from hunting. “Melanie? Can you hear me, sweetheart?” Then lower: “How long has she been like this?”

“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.