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Authors: Dianne Duvall

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BOOK: Night Reigns
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Wiping suddenly damp palms on her jeans, she smoothed her sweater, checked her curly, red hair to ensure it had not escaped the neat ponytail that barely reached her shoulders, then picked up the small cooler Seth had left and resolutely approached the front door.
She raised her hand to knock, then froze when she heard the distinctive
bing bong
of the doorbell. Blinking, she looked down at the small glowing button she hadn’t depressed. The doorbell
had
rung, hadn’t it?
Bing bong.
She lowered her hand. This time she had actually seen the button move in and out as it rang itself. Surely Seth’s doing.
Bing bong.
If he had wanted her to ring the doorbell, why hadn’t he just said so?
Bing bong. Bing bong.
And why didn’t anyone answer? The persistent ringing rattled nerves already stretched taut. Even after a year and a half in Seth’s care, she felt a touch of panic whenever she met someone new. As she had earlier with the immortal, which actually hadn’t turned out too badly.
The door swung inward.
Ami looked up ... and felt a smile lift the edges of her lips as she took in the tall figure who darkened the doorway. For the second time that night, she thought the immortal would be incredibly handsome if his face weren’t tight with pain and his body mangled and saturated with blood.
Ebony hair surrounded his face in tangled waves and fell halfway down his back. His face, arms, and torso bore so many deep gashes that he looked like he had brawled with real wolves rather than vampires with a vicious pack mentality. His right arm had not yet healed. Judging by the way it hung, it had been dislocated. (Having had both of her own arms dislocated in the past, she knew how painful that could be.) And he carefully kept his weight off his left leg. Was it broken?
Broad shoulders, muscled arms and legs, and a narrow waist and hips were all enticingly visible now that his coat had been discarded.
This time, when Ami found herself tongue-tied, it had little to do with fear or anxiety. Especially when his eyes lit up with what might have been pleasure at finding her on his doorstep.
Leaning to one side, she peered past him and saw Seth propping up a fireplace mantel in the next room. “You made him answer the door?” she demanded. Seth was not one to witness the suffering of another without aiding him.
“Yes.”
She dared a quick peek up at the less than pleased expression on the man’s face, then looked again to Seth. “Why?”
“I was making a point.”
“Se-e-eth! I can’t believe you!” Frowning, she stepped inside and dropped the cooler. “Here, let me help you.”
The Immortal Guardian closed the door, but made no move toward her. Ami suspected the doorknob might be the only thing holding him upright.
Moving to his left side, she wrapped her right arm around his waist and drew his left across her shoulders. When she glanced up, she found him studying her with piercing brown eyes.
A little shiver of awareness tickled its way through her.
Even bloody and battered he was sexy as hell. He was the perfect height, too—roughly a foot taller than her—so her head came up to his shoulder instead of falling short of his armpit. (Sometimes hanging with Seth and David, who were—respectively—six foot eight and six foot seven, gave her a crick in her neck.)
“Who
are
you?” the immortal asked.
“Ami.”
“Ami, this is Marcus,” Seth answered at the same time. “Marcus, Amiriska.”
“Nice to
meet
you, Marcus,” Ami said, her eyes boring into his in an attempt to convey her desire to keep their earlier encounter a secret. “Would you like to sit down?”
She thought a touch of amusement entered his gaze, nearly smothered by the suffering his wounds inspired. “Very much so.”
“I would, too, if I were in your condition. Let’s see if we can make it to the sofa.”
They took it slowly. The poor guy must be in total agony. She didn’t understand why Seth didn’t do anything to help him.
“I assume you’re an Immortal Guardian?” she asked to support the
first meeting
pretense.
He nodded, his strong jaw clenching.
“Then why aren’t your wounds healing the way they should?”
He grunted as she eased him down onto sofa cushions splashed with scarlet splotches. “I haven’t fed.”
When his gaze dropped to the base of her neck, Ami reared back.
“Ami is not on the menu,” Seth intoned behind her. “Ever. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.”
Ami looked at Seth over her shoulder. “Why didn’t you get him some blood?”
“He doesn’t have any.”
“We brought a coolerful with us. Why didn’t you offer him some of that?” Striding from the living room (it really was a lovely room, spacious and tastefully decorated), she retrieved the cooler and set it on the coffee table. A quick lift of the lid, and she handed Marcus a blood bag.
“Thank you.”
As she watched, his fangs descended, and he bit into the bag. Some of the tension in his face eased as the fangs siphoned the blood directly into his veins.
Hands on her hips, she faced Seth. “Well?”
He shrugged. “I was making a point.”
“What point?”
“Yes,” Marcus seconded, the bag already empty. “What point?”
Ami handed him another one.
“Thank you.”
She smiled.
“He needs a Second,” Seth stated.
Surprised, Ami turned back to Marcus. “You don’t have a Second?”
All
immortals had Seconds. Seth insisted upon it.
Well, all except for Roland Warbrook, one of the more irascible immortals.
Marcus glared at Seth. “I do
not
need a Second.”
“You need a Second,” Seth responded implacably.
“I have a Second.”
“Slim is not a Second.”
Ami frowned. She had met quite a few Seconds since Seth had taken her under his wing, usually via telephone or the Internet, but none had gone by the nickname Slim. “Who is Slim?”
Seth looked pointedly toward the bay window on the opposite side of the room. Ami followed his gaze to the wicker basket on the floor in front of it. A small black cat that probably wouldn’t weigh eight pounds with a full belly returned her stare with one black paw raised high in the air.
“Um ... is that cat bald?”
There seemed to be substantial bare patches above its eyes ... and across the top of its head ... between its shoulder blades ... on one knee ...
“No,” Marcus denied defensively. “He isn’t bald. He’s ... scarred from fighting with animals twice his size.”
“Oh. Poor little guy.” Ami hated bullies, be they human or animal. And, judging by his ragged appearance, this cat must lure them like rancid meat lured flies.
“Don’t feel too sorry for him,” Seth drawled. “Slim is the one who instigates the fights.”
Ami eyed the cat doubtfully. “Really? Has he ever won one?”
Seth’s dark eyes sparkled with amusement while he and Ami awaited Marcus’s response.
When it came, the words emerged as though they had been dragged from him by force. “I think one ended in a draw.”
Ami bit her lip to keep from laughing.
Slim went back to licking himself.
 
Marcus sighed and silently wished this night would just end already. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he eased himself into a more upright position. The broken bone in his leg was beginning to knit itself back together. All bleeding stopped as the cuts began to seal themselves.
“Would you like some help with your arm?” Ami asked.
Marcus glanced up to see her soft green eyes shift their focus to his dislocated shoulder. “Sure.”
She was beautiful ... in a fresh-faced, girl-next-door kind of way. Pale, flawless skin free of makeup. Long lashes that complemented her coppery hair. A short pert nose. Lips that were nice and full, but not freaky, plastic surgery full. If he had to guess, he would say she was perhaps twenty years old. Clearly a human. As far as he knew, all
gifted ones
save one had black hair and brown eyes.
Though small, she was surprisingly strong—she had supported quite a bit of his weight when she had helped him to the sofa—and slender, with nicely rounded hips and full breasts he couldn’t help but admire as she leaned forward to aid him and her sweater gaped enticingly, exposing shadowy cleavage and the white lace of her bra.
Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes. She smelled good, too.
One of her small hands carefully grasped his shoulder. The other took his wrist.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
He nodded, thinking her voice—low and warm—as appealing as the rest of her.
She gave a quick twist. Pain shot up his arm and through his shoulder.
“How’s that?”
“Perfect,” he gritted out.
Stepping back, she retrieved another bag of blood from the cooler and handed it to him.
“Thank you.”
She smiled.
She had a pretty smile. The kind it was damned near impossible not to return.
He
certainly couldn’t resist it and felt his lips turn up as he bit down into the bag.
He glanced at Seth. Unease again slithered up his spine at the gleam in the elder’s eyes.
“Marcus,” Seth drawled, “meet your new Second.”
Lowering the half-empty bag, Marcus followed Seth’s gaze to Ami.
Her face lighting with curiosity, she looked around as though she expected to see someone enter the room behind her. When no one did, she froze, acquiring a rather deer-in-the-headlights expression of panic. Her gaze flew to Seth’s. As did Marcus’s.
“Ami,” Seth said kindly, “I would like you to serve as Marcus’s Second.”
Her lips parted slightly. “Me?” she breathed incredulously. “Oh no,” Marcus blurted out. “
Hell
no. I don’t want a Second.”
Seth’s tone turned arctic. “I don’t care what you want. You need one. Tonight demonstrated that very well. And you know the rules.
Every
Immortal Guardian has a Second.”
“Roland doesn’t.”
“You of all people are aware of Roland’s trust issues, as well as his response to being assigned Seconds in the past.”
Marcus’s gaze slid speculatively to Ami.
Hmm.
Maybe he could—
“If you’re thinking of taking a page from your mentor’s book and frightening Ami away,” Seth went on, “think again. She’s tougher than she looks.”
Harm a hair on her precious head,
he warned Marcus telepathically,
and I will kill you.
To Ami, Seth said, “I’ll be in touch.” In the next instant, he vanished.
A heavy silence fell in his absence.
Ami bit her lip, brow furrowing. “Do you think he’s coming back?”
Thwump!
Both jumped when three suitcases and several white banker boxes full of what he assumed were Ami’s possessions suddenly appeared around them.
Marcus sighed heavily. “I’m guessing no.”
Chapter 2
 
Breath heaving, body bathed in a cold sweat, Eddie Kapansky glanced over his shoulder as he raced through the forest.
Nothing.
He faced forward again and almost ran into a low-hanging branch. Ducking swiftly, he scarcely managed to avoid it.
“Come on, Eddie. Get your shit together,” he muttered. Traveling at preternatural speeds required hypervigilance. Low branches like the one that had just brushed the top of his dark blond hair could easily remove a vampire’s head.
The bitter taste of fear still flooding his mouth, he glanced behind him once more and sought any signs that the immortal might be following him. When he faced forward, his eyes widened and a yelp escaped him as another branch nearly decapitated him.
Eddie slowed to the speed of a human run, then a jog, then a walk. Finally he stopped.
Fog formed in front of him as his breath whooshed out like air from a bellows. If he hadn’t been too dense to comprehend the irony, he might have appreciated that of humans’ assuming vampires’ hearts didn’t beat when his was doing its damnedest to burst from his chest.
Closing his slack mouth, he quieted his gasps as much as he could, peered into the darkness around him, and listened.
Wind. The gurgling of the stream that had soaked his damned sneakers. Cows in the barn he had passed. Bats. He hated fucking bats. (Another irony that eluded him, since many humans thought vampires could turn into bats.) Animal. Animal. Insect. Animal.
No Immortal Guardian.
He should be relieved, but he was too damned scared. That fucker had taken out everyone but him. By himself!
Well, the woman had helped some. Eddie should have drained her dry. She wasn’t an immortal. She didn’t move like one. She didn’t have fangs. Her eyes didn’t glow. So she must be human. Which meant he might have actually found the elusive, ass-kicking immortal known as Roland Warbrook.
Dennis would be pleased.
Eddie looked ahead. Thick trees and undergrowth prevented him from seeing far, but he thought he was only a mile or two from the lair. He hoped the latter. Any closer and the guys might have heard the girly scream he’d just let out when he almost ran into the branch.
After giving himself another minute to get his breathing under control and stop his trembling, he set off again. The trees parted on a bucolic scene: a rolling meadow that glistened from the evening’s rain laid out like a carpet around a sprawling single-story frame house with a wide front porch and peeling white paint.
Several tree stumps littered the yard. Dennis had ordered them to cut down any trees that grew close to the house so they would be able to see their enemies coming.
If
those enemies should ever find them, that was.
Considering what had happened to Bastien’s army, Eddie hoped this place remained off the Immortal Guardians’ radar.
Of course, had they not been too lazy, the vampires could have simply uprooted the trees. They sure as hell had the strength. Eddie had once uprooted one to show off for a girl he had dated before Dennis had recruited him. But instead of
oohing
and
ahhing
over his new super-strength, then giving him a blow job, she had freaked out, and he’d ended up killing her.
Dumb bitch.
Making him lose his temper like that.
(Usually at this point in his recollection of the event, a voice in his head would make a
tching
sound and say
You know your mamma raised you better than that. What the hell’s wrong with you, boy?
But that voice had grown quieter and quieter of late, until it had ultimately disappeared.)
Eddie crossed the large lawn in a mortal lope, clomped up the stairs, and entered the unlocked front door.
The interior of the house had been gutted and turned into a huge den. Instead of load-bearing walls there were support pillars that gave the place an open, loft feel. Sofas, lounge chairs, coffee tables, end tables, stools, and even a picnic bench—all scavenged from lawns, porches (gotta love some small town Southerners’ propensity for putting indoor furniture on their front porches), and curbside offerings the night before heavy trash day—filled most of the room.
Vampires, all male and almost all Eddie’s age (twenty-five) or younger, lounged by the dozens, laughing, bragging of the night’s kills, and watching one of two big-ass flat screen televisions.
“’Sup?” Henry asked from his position at the front window. He must be one of the four lookouts tonight.
“Is Dennis here?” Eddie asked, nerves still jangling.
“Yeah. He’s in The Hole with some new recruits.” The Hole was the only bedroom that had been left standing. All four walls, as well as the door, had been reinforced with a butt-load of concrete and steel, then outfitted with manacles. The ceiling had been removed, and the walls extended up into the attic, where Dennis had replaced a large portion of the roof with glass supported by steel bars, allowing the mid-day sun to bake any vampire left in there who had gone so psycho Dennis could no longer control him.
Or any immortal unfortunate enough to be captured.
They’d yet to manage that one.
“Why?” Henry asked, gaze sharpening. “Somethin’ happen?”
Nodding, Eddie sidled closer to him and lowered his voice. “I think I found Roland.”
Henry’s eyes bugged out. “Roland the Immortal Guardian Roland?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re shittin’ me.”
“Nope.”
“Daaaaaaamn. We been lookin’ for him for months.” He looked past Eddie’s shoulder, as if expecting to see Roland standing there, then met his gaze. “What’d ya do with him? Where is he?”
“Chapel Hill.” Eddie fought the urge to squirm. He didn’t relish telling everyone he had been unable to defeat the immortal.
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “You left him in Chapel Hill?” Eddie grimaced. “I didn’t exactly have a choice. Me, Skinny John, Walter, and Kurt met up with Jason, Max, Big John, and Karl over at the Walmart off of 15-501 and were headed for UNC to see if we could find some fresh victims when this Immortal Guardian comes out of nowhere and ...” He shrugged. “It was on.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Bastien?”
“Yeah. This guy had a woman with him like Roland did.”
“Did she have brown hair?”
“I think so.” It had been hard to tell with her hiding in the trees.
Henry nodded and slapped him on the shoulder. “Good job, man.” He glanced through the window for a second, then once more abandoned his duty. “So the guys are holdin’ him in Chapel Hill?”
Eddie swallowed, stomach souring. “No.”
“What do ya—”
“I’m the only one who made it out alive.”
Henry stared at him. “What?”
“The others are all dead. Roland and his woman destroyed them.”
“They’re
dead?
” he exclaimed, voice rising.
Eddie looked around as every eye in the house focused on them. “Yeah.”
“Who died?” he heard someone mutter.
Henry shook his head. “You outnumbered him eight to one!”
Eddie bristled at the scorn in his voice. “He had the woman with him. She was armed and—”
Henry sputtered and waved a hand. “The woman doesn’t count. She’s
human
for shit’s sake! If you can’t kick a human woman’s ass, what the hell good are ya?”
“Well, she sure as hell didn’t fight like a human!”
“Are you saying she was immortal?”
“No, but—”
“Then you should have killed her and kicked Roland’s ass.” Some of the other vamps rose and strode forward to form a semicircle around them.
“Look, you weren’t there,” Eddie snapped. “You’ve never even
seen
an Immortal Guardian. They aren’t like us.”
“What do you mean?” Wes asked, his butt-ugly mug alight with curiosity. He was a fairly new recruit, turned by Dennis himself only a few months ago.
“Yeah,” Howard tossed in. “How’re they different from us?”
“They’re faster,” Eddie began, his apprehension falling away now that Henry’s contempt had been overshadowed by the other guys’ awe and eagerness to hear a firsthand account of a fight with an immortal.
“How much faster?” Norm asked.
“Like ... fifty times faster,” Eddie said. “And stronger. A
lot
stronger. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“So what happened?”
He named the guys who had fought beside him again, then—giving plenty of bloodthirsty description and exaggerating his own skills—laid out what had transpired.
“So you just ran?” Henry growled as Eddie wrapped it up.
“No, I didn’t run,” Eddie lied. “At least not the way you make it sound. He cut down seven guys, Henry. I was the only one strong enough to fend off his death blows, but even
I
could see I wouldn’t be able to take him alone, so I came back here for reinforcements.”
“What for?” Henry pounced. “If he’s as fast as you say he is, he could be all the way to Winston-Salem by now.”
Eddie racked his feeble brain for a response that wouldn’t make him sound like a wuss, opting not to mention the second encounter that had led to Keith’s and Bill’s destruction.
“At least he can confirm what no one else has been able to,” Wes said. “Roland is still in North Carolina.”
Howard nodded. “Which means Bastien probably is, too. I bet Dennis will be happy to hear that.”
Eddie heard the heavy door of The Hole open and moved until, between the vamps congregating around him, he spotted Dennis in the doorway.
“Eddie,” Dennis spoke in that commanding voice of his.
At least he seemed to be in a decent mood tonight. Eddie would rather face Jason, Michael Myers, and Freddy Krueger all together than Dennis in a temper.
Straightening, Eddie said, “Yes, sir?”
“A moment, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
The other vampires parted, allowing Eddie to slip through them and join Dennis in The Hole’s doorway.
“I could use your help evaluating some potential recruits,” Dennis said, drawing him into the room.
“Sure,” Eddie answered, willing to do anything to put off telling Dennis that he had had Roland in his grasp and had failed to capture him. He had hoped being able to confirm that Roland was still in the area would make up for the fact that he had run like a little pussy. But after Henry’s reaction ...
A somewhat battered kitchen table rested in the center of The Hole, the only furnishing it boasted. On the opposite side of it, looking almost like slovenly soldiers just returned from a weekend bender, a dozen and a half men stood. All were human and younger than Eddie by a few years. None had yet been transformed by the vampires who had captured them. Dennis liked to transform the recruits himself whenever possible. And these recruits were pretty lame.
Eddie curled his lip as he studied them.
There were a few of the typical, totally wasted college students: the type who liked to pants other students and routinely sought ways to humiliate those weaker than themselves for fun. They didn’t seem to be all that sure what was going on. Or to care, for that matter.
There were also about a handful of tough-as-nails gang-bangers or gangstas or whatever, sporting tattoos, saggy-baggy pants, and FU attitudes. A few goths had been rounded up. Decked out in black clothes with pale makeup, dyed black hair, and nose rings, they looked positively orgasmic over being in the same room with two real-life vampires.
A couple of late night joggers had been wrangled, too. That pretty much summed it up.
Losers,
Eddie thought smugly.
I could take these guys in a heartbeat.
One of the pros of becoming a vampire was not having to worry about getting your ass kicked anymore. He’d been bullied a lot as a kid. And as a teenager. And once had been beaten badly enough to land in the hospital his sophomore year at Duke. (His mamma had just shaken her head and told him he shouldn’t have been running his mouth the way he had.)
But now,
he
was the bully. Now,
he
kicked ass.
And even if these guys
wanted
to kick his ass once Dennis turned them, they wouldn’t be able to, because any soldiers caught fighting amongst themselves were locked in The Hole just before sunrise.
“This, gentlemen, is another of my soldiers,” Dennis said, settling a hand on Eddie’s shoulder in friendly camaraderie.
Dennis considered himself a king and the other vampires his soldiers in a war that would free them all from the tyranny of the Immortal Guardians and allow them to take their rightful place as the most powerful creatures in existence.
BOOK: Night Reigns
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