Leigh suspected she’d forced them to change plans when she’d crossed the street.
“You’re a clever girl,” Morgan said as he set her in the back of the van. “That’s exactly what happened.”
He’d obviously read her mind again, Leigh realized as he climbed in after her. Donny closed the doors behind them, and a moment later she heard the driver’s door open. The van shifted a bit on its wheels as he got in the driver’s seat.
“I don’t know why you still have control of some of your faculties, but it intrigues me,” Morgan announced, lifting her into his lap so that she leaned back against his right arm as the van’s engine roared to life.
Woo-hoo, she thought dryly. She’d impressed a blood-sucking vampire.
Morgan seemed amused by her thoughts. At least, a smile curved his lips, but his voice was deadly serious as he announced, “And you shall be a blood-sucking vampire, too. Will you like me better then, I wonder? Once I am your sire?”
Leigh was trying to decide if he meant from the bite he’d given her or if he’d have to bite her two more times, like in the books and movies, when he abruptly raised his left wrist to his mouth and sliced open a vein with one of his fangs.
Oh, that is so totally gross, she thought.
“Yes,” Morgan agreed as if she’d spoken aloud. “And it hurts like a bugger, believe me. However, it is necessary, I’m afraid.”
Leigh was still trying to sort out why it would be necessary when her mouth suddenly opened of its own accord and he pressed his bleeding wrist to her lips. The tinny liquid poured over her teeth and across her tongue. She was forced to swallow or choke on it. She swallowed.
Dry grass and dead branches crunched under Lucian Argeneau’s boots as he approached the van parked in the trees at the edge of the property. Two men stood by the open back doors, choosing and checking weapons in the gray predawn light. Like himself, they were dressed all in black and were over six feet tall. Both were also muscular and had short hair, but one was a brunette and the other a blond.
“Are we set?” he asked, running one hand through his own short ice-blond hair.
“Set,” Bricker—the brunet—said calmly as he leaned into the van to grab two cans of gasoline. “How do you want to do this?”
Lucian shrugged, unable to find any real enthusiasm for the task ahead. He’d done this so many times over the years that there was little challenge to it anymore. He found it more interesting to track down the nests than to clear them out, but even that was less challenging than it used to be.
It didn’t help that this was Morgan they were going after. He had been a best friend to Lucian’s twin brother, Jean Claude, right up until the other man’s death a few years earlier. The two men had been thick as thieves for centuries, and because of that, Lucian had counted the man as a friend as well. So much so that when the first whispers and rumors that Morgan had turned rogue started, Lucian ignored them, sure they couldn’t be true. The rumors had persisted, however, and he’d had to look into the matter, though not enthusiastically. Now, here he stood, the rumors confirmed and Morgan marked for death.
“Here comes the sun,” Mortimer murmured, and then repeated Bricker’s question, “How do you want to do this?”
Lucian blinked away his thoughts and took in the first rays of sunlight creeping up to drive away the night. This was the best time to hit. Everyone would be returned to the nest by now and settling in to sleep the day away.
Because—of course—vampires didn’t walk during the day, he thought dryly as his gaze slid over the surrounding trees, then finally to the decrepit house where Morgan had holed up with the pack of rogues he was creating. It looked bad in this light, but was worse—he knew—in daylight, when the sun baked down cruelly on the flaking paint, the boarded-over windows, and the weed-tangled lawn.
How the rogues chose to live never failed to amaze him. It was as if—once their mind snapped and they decided to become the scourge of the earth—they believed normal, civilized homes were beyond them. Or perhaps they were simply living down to what mortals thought they were, hoping to lure and hold their pack members in thrall that way. After all, if mortals knew how little magic immortals truly had, they might find it less attractive to be one, or at least to be their servants.
Shaking off these cynical thoughts, Lucian glanced toward the other two men and finally gave his answer. “The same as always.”
Nodding, Mortimer closed the van doors, took the larger gas can from Bricker, and the three of them moved to the edge of the woods. They paused, their gazes sliding over the windows once again. There was no sign of movement from the house, but half the windows were boarded up so that didn’t mean much.
“Do we give them a couple more minutes to settle in, or—” Mortimer’s question died, and they all glanced around as the sound of a vehicle disturbed the silence. They watched in silent surprise as a dark van turned into the driveway and crunched up the gravel lane.
“Hmm,” Lucian said, with his first real spark of interest. This was different. Usually the “vampires” would have been in-house by now, if not already snug in the coffins they seemed to favor.
They moved back a bit into the trees to be less visible. As they watched, the van parked close to the house, then the driver jumped out and ran around to open the rear doors.
Lucian stiffened as Morgan swept out of the van, a brunette in his arms. Dressed in a short black skirt and a bloodstained white blouse, her eyes shot over the house and yard as if seeking an escape, but the way she lay limp in Morgan’s arms told him that the rogue immortal had taken control of her body. There would be no escape.
“That’s Leigh,” Mortimer murmured with a frown.
“She works the bar at Coco’s. The restaurant we’ve eaten at all week,” Bricker explained, and Lucian grunted. Justin Bricker was young enough that he still ate, and Garrett Mortimer went along to keep him company and sometimes picked at food.
Lucian didn’t bother with food, but he’d heard a lot this week about the “pretty little thing” who’d served them their late meals in the bar. They both seemed taken with her charm and sense of humor, and he supposed this Leigh was the “pretty little thing” in question. Certainly, neither man seemed pleased to see her being carried up the porch steps, obviously about to become Morgan’s latest victim.
“We have to help her,” Bricker said.
Mortimer nodded in agreement. “Yeah.”
“She could be willing,” Lucian pointed out, though there had been something in her eyes that suggested she wasn’t.
Both men were silent, their gazes locked on the woman Morgan was carrying into the house.
“No. She isn’t,” Mortimer said with certainty as the door closed behind the trio. He sounded grim and angry. Mortimer rarely got angry.
Bricker agreed, “No, she isn’t.”
Shrugging, Lucian turned his gaze back to the house. “We should give them ten minutes or so to settle in for the night.”
“But the longer we wait, the worse it could be for Leigh,” Bricker protested.
“He’s already bitten her and given her his own blood,” Mortimer pointed out, obviously having gained the news from her thoughts when he’d read her. “There isn’t much more he’d bother doing to her before she finishes turning.”
Bricker frowned and glanced at Lucian. “We’re taking her out of there, right?” When Lucian hesitated, he argued, “She hasn’t bitten anyone yet, and doesn’t want to be there. Leigh’s a nice lady.”
“We’ll see,” Lucian said finally.
Realizing it was all he’d get for now, Bricker fell silent, but he looked worried.
Lucian ignored him and proceeded to examine his equipment. He gave his crossbow a once-over, then counted the specially made wooden arrows in the quiver strapped to his leg. Satisfied that all was in order there, he retrieved the gun from his pocket, checking to see that it was fully loaded and the safety was on before putting it back.
Lucian glanced toward the house, impatient to get things going. Then he forced himself to wait the full ten minutes, but the moment the digital face of his watch said that time had passed, his hand tightened on his crossbow and he started forward without a word.
Mortimer and Bricker fell into step on either side of him as he emerged from the trees and approached the dilapidated house. They mounted the front porch as silently as possible.
“Careless,” Mortimer murmured when Lucian turned the knob and the door opened. The red-haired guy hadn’t bothered to lock it. Lucian wasn’t terribly surprised. If he was newly turned, the man would see himself as invincible, and none of Morgan’s followers should be more than a month or so old. That was when the first whispers that Morgan had gone rogue started.
The three men eased into the house, eyes alert, ears straining for any sound. As expected, the upper floor appeared deserted. After setting the cans of gasoline in the kitchen, they separated to make a thorough, silent search of the top two floors, just to be sure. Once finished, they regrouped in the kitchen and approached the door they knew led to the basement.
Lucian was thorough by nature and had trained anyone who worked with him to be so, too. They always sought out all the information they could on a nest before approaching it. Knowing the layout made things much easier, and this time they’d managed to track down the daughter of the previous owner. The woman had sold the house when her mother died, but had grown up there and knew it well. From her, they’d learned all they could and even got a crude drawing of the layout before erasing all memory of their visit.
Now, Mortimer and Bricker moved to the left-hand side of the door while Lucian moved to the right. Once situated, he nodded at the other two men, raised his crossbow and reached for the doorknob with his free hand. That hand froze an inch away when the knob began to turn on its own.
Lucian jerked his hand back and waited. The door only opened halfway before the brunette named Leigh slid through and took a cautious step into the kitchen.
As Lucian stared in amazement, her head slowly turned and she blinked at the sight of him. He saw fear leap into her eyes, and moved quickly, clasping one hand over her mouth and drawing her silently away from the door so that her back was pressed hard to his chest.
Her body briefly tensed, as if preparing to struggle, then she abruptly went still. When Lucian glanced down, he saw that her wide eyes were on Mortimer and Bricker on the other side of the door. Both men were giving her what he supposed were reassuring smiles. To him, they just looked like a pair of idiots, but it apparently worked on Leigh. As he watched, Bricker placed one finger to his mouth to warn her to be quiet, while Mortimer stared at her with a concentration that suggested he was sending her reassuring thoughts and perhaps also the same, silent warning. The woman relaxed against Lucian, and he found himself responding as her body molded to his, her bottom unintentionally nestling his groin.
“I just fell asleep, Donald. I don’t appreciate being woken up for this.”
Lucian stiffened as that voice floated up the stairs, aware that Leigh had gone still. She was actually holding her breath, he realized, and found he disliked that she was so afraid.
“I’m sorry, sire,” someone—presumably Donald—responded, but in truth he sounded more resentful than apologetic. “But I’ve searched the basement and she—”
“Because she’s not going to hide in the basement. She’s going to run, you idiot!” Morgan’s angry voice snapped back.
“But why? Why isn’t she willing?” Donald’s voice had turned frustrated and even whiny.
“Not everyone wants to be a child of the night. I warned you of that. I told you, you couldn’t turn your back on her for a moment until we have control over her. Not for a damned moment! I told you that! She isn’t a willing turn. Until she accepts me as master, she’ll try to run.”
“I just left her alone for a minute. I—”
“You shouldn’t have left her alone at all. Get her back and—”
“But what if she’s outside? The sun’s coming up!”
“You wanted her. She’s—”
The words stopped short and Lucian felt himself stiffen further. The voices had drawn closer with each passing moment, and by his guess the speakers were at the bottom of the steps now. The sudden silence seemed to suggest something had given away their presence.
Lucian glanced at Mortimer and Bricker, but he was sure neither man could be seen from below. Then he let his gaze drop over the woman before him, and spotted the problem at once. Lucian hadn’t pulled Leigh back far enough. She was short, the top of her head barely reaching the base of his throat, but she was generously proportioned and part of her generous proportions were protruding past the edge of the door in her bright white blouse.
“Is that a boob?” he heard Donald ask, and Lucian closed his eyes.
The ensuing silence was so long, he knew that Morgan was seeking out Leigh’s mind and searching for information on the situation at the top of the stairs. Lucian supposed it would have been too much to hope that the man would just assume she was a bimbo bartender too stupid to leave the house and was standing up here contemplating her navel. No. Morgan suspected something was up.
Knowing their surprise approach was now over, Lucian shifted Leigh so he could lean forward and peer around the edge of the door. On the other side, Mortimer did the same thing, and they found themselves staring at two men frozen at the bottom of the wooden steps. Then all hell broke loose.
Morgan and Donald suddenly spun and sped up the dark hall below, breaking into a run as they slipped out of sight. Bricker and Mortimer charged after them, and Lucian pulled Leigh away from the door and pushed her into a chair at the kitchen table.
“Stay,” he hissed, his gaze sliding over her face as he got his first close-up look at her. She was a beautiful woman, glossy chestnut waves of hair framing large, almond-shaped eyes, a straight nose, and high cheekbones in an oval face. She was also terribly pale and swaying in the chair, leaving him to wonder just how much blood she’d lost.
He would have asked, but a burst of gunfire from below recalled him to more urgent matters. Leaving her there, Lucian turned away and hurried downstairs after his comrades.