Vampire's Hunger (10 page)

She took out another shuffler and was just starting to look around to check on Bishop when she heard him cry out. She whirled to see him holding a zombie away from him with one arm, but another of the creatures had latched onto the opposite shoulder with its teeth. Blood stained his shirt, the material ripped. Even from where she was she could see the zombie’s teeth embedded deep into the muscles of Bishop’s shoulder.

Oh, God.

As Kimber rushed forward, the zombie jerked its head, ripping away a mouthful of Bishop’s flesh. Kimber screamed. She plunged her hatchet into its forehead and pulled the dead thing off him just as Duncan took out the second one. From her peripheral vision she saw Natalie stab her short sword upward through the mouth of the final zombie standing between them and safety.

Duncan threw Bishop over his shoulder. “Come on!” He took off in a loping run, not using his vampire speed so that Kimber and Natalie could keep up with him.

No one said a word until they had latched the outer gate of the apartment complex behind them and Duncan gently set Bishop on the ground, leaning him back against the side of the apartment building. Bishop’s face was gray, his mouth taut with pain. Eyes closed, his breath came in labored pants.

Kimber dropped to her knees beside him. “Carson…”

His eyes fluttered open. “It must be bad.” His grin was more of a grimace and it broke her heart. “You’ve never used my first name before.”

She blinked back tears. She wasn’t going to lose him, damn it. Too many people, good people, had died, and it was all her fault. Her throat closed up, the guilt bubbling up in the form of bitter bile.

No! Carson Bishop wasn’t going to be another name added to the list of people who were dead because of her. Hell, no.

“Kimber, you know what needs to be done.” Duncan’s deep voice rasped from behind her, and she realized he’d knelt behind her.

“No.” Her voice cracked, the sound as brittle as broken glass.

“Honey…” Natalie went to her knees on Bishop’s other side. She took Bishop’s hand in hers before her gaze went back to Kimber. “He’s gonna turn.”

Kimber shook her head. A tear plopped onto her cheek and began a slow glide down her face.

“She’s right.” Bishop’s voice wavered. His Adam’s apple bobbed with his hard swallow. Sweat beaded on his forehead, above his mouth. “I already have a fever and my joints are starting to ache. It’s just a matter of time before I’m dead, and then…” His mouth thinned. Eyes dark with dread, he said, “I’ll turn into one of them.” He jerked his head to where a few zombies pressed against the metal fencing that surrounded the complex. “I don’t want you—any of you—to see me like that. Kill me now.”

“No!” Kimber swiped her face. “I can fix this. Fix you.”

Duncan put one hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, there isn’t a cure.”

Kimber shrugged off his hand. She wasn’t going to lose her friend. She just wasn’t. She put a hand on Bishop’s shoulder, just to one side of the injury, and closed her eyes. With a deep breath, she reached for the Unseen. She’d never done it before without first setting a circle of blood, but she was desperate. Bishop’s own bloody wound might be enough. It would
have
to be enough. She refused to let him die.

“Kimber…” Duncan’s voice trailed off.

The fine hairs on the back of her neck lifted as the power of the Unseen surged into her. Good. That was good. She kept her hand on Bishop’s shoulder and concentrated on his wound. “I started this, Duncan, six months ago when I tapped into the Unseen and animated Richard Whitcomb. What if I can reverse it?” She blinked her burning eyes, refusing to let any more tears fall. “I have to try.”

“You
have
tried before, without success. Right after the Outbreak happened, then a month later, and a month after that.” He paused then added softly, “Sweetheart, there’s nothing you can do for him.”

The compassion in his voice ate at her composure and a sob broke out before she ruthlessly forced her emotions back. “I have to try,” she said again, her voice rasping with the truth she refused to acknowledge. She ground her teeth, the muscles in her jaw aching with the strain.

“Kimber, Duncan’s right,” Bishop whispered. “I can’t feel my legs. You know how this progresses. I only have a few minutes.”

“No!” She fixed her attention on the Unseen again, and it surged into her in a rush that stole her breath. She pushed it toward the wound on Bishop’s shoulder, could almost see the energy flow over his skin, into the bite marks. It swirled into his muscles, making him cry out in agony. As the energy continued to crash over her in undulating waves, she couldn’t contain her own moan of pain. As nerve endings enflamed and muscles screamed with tension, she closed her eyes to shut off at least one of her senses.

Then, bit by bit, she began to draw the energy away from Bishop and direct it back into the Unseen. Hit by this much power, the muscles along her back, her thighs and calves, seized up in one big, vicious cramp. She gasped but kept drawing the energy from Bishop, doing her best to ignore the increasing torment. From behind her closed lids red hazed her vision, then black, and dots of light began floating through the darkness.

Vaguely she heard Duncan and Natalie calling her name. Her hand clutched Bishop’s shoulder in a spasm. Even through the physical pain, she could feel that what she was doing was working. The Unseen was withdrawing, taking the supernatural venom of the zombie’s bite from Bishop. Just a little more. Just a little…

Her heart stuttered. The floating dots multiplied and then winked out like candles snuffed by a fierce wind. Her pulse thundered in her ears then slowed, sounding like thick sludge sliding down a drain.

Suddenly she was knocked away from Bishop. “No!” she screamed, opening her eyes to see Duncan’s face, his eyes blazing with silver fire. “I’m not done.” She reached for Bishop again.

Duncan whirled her away from the wounded man and wrapped his arms around her from behind, his big hands holding her wrists, keeping her arms bent in front of her. For all his gentleness, she couldn’t break free.

“Let me go.” She struggled anyway. “I need to help Bishop.”

“He’s beyond your help, sweetheart.” Duncan rested his cheek against the top of her head. With his next words his breath stirred her hair. “He’s beyond anyone’s help now. He’s gone.”

She couldn’t stop the tears now. “No…” She slumped in his embrace. Her body burned—eyes stinging with tears, muscles blazing with tension, mind flaming with yet another failure. A personal one this time. With a surge of strength she twisted in his arms and slapped him. “Why did you stop me? It was working. I could have saved him.” Her voice broke on a sob. She lifted her hand and slapped him again, harder this time. His head turned with the force of the hit, but when he looked down at her she saw no anger, no condemnation for her action. Just tender sadness and understanding.

“It was killing you,” came Natalie’s soft, sorrowful voice.

Kimber looked at her friend, who nodded.

“Your heart stopped beating twice,” Duncan murmured. The reddened imprint of her fingers against his cheek showed starkly against his skin before it faded. “It started up on its own, but then your blood pressure shot up and then dropped so low…” He cleared his throat. “If I hadn’t pulled you away, you would have died. And that I’m not prepared to let happen.”

“But…” She stared down at Bishop. His sightless eyes gazed at nothing, and as she watched tiny flecks of color began swirling in his irises. Already the small bit of the Unseen left in him was gathering strength, readying his body to be transformed into one of the walking dead.

She’d failed. Again. And this time it had mattered, more than at any other time. She’d started it and once again she’d been unable to stop it.

Everything inside her shut down. Her hearing became muffled, her vision clouded, her body went numb. The brief realization that she was in shock rolled through her thoughts before those, too, went blessedly silent.

“Natalie,” she heard Duncan murmur. She saw the crowbar gripped in his hand and knew what he was going to do.

Kimber felt Natalie put an arm around her waist, drawing her away. She made a sound of protest, something like a grunt or maybe it was closer to a whimper, but couldn’t find the strength to fight the sympathetic hold. Her head felt light, like it would float away, and her legs and arms shook with little tremors. With a final glance at Bishop’s face, those lifeless, staring eyes, she let Natalie lead her away.

*  *  *

Duncan closed the door of Kimber’s apartment behind him and flipped the lock. Without looking at the two women, he headed toward the bathroom. Once he’d cleaned himself up and wiped the blood off the crowbar, he went back into the living room where Kimber and Natalie sat on the sofa. They’d both kicked off their shoes. “It’s done,” he said, knowing they had both realized what he’d been about to do, knowing he didn’t need to tell them, but still he’d felt the need to say it out loud.

Natalie gave a brief nod and stood. “I’m going to clean up and go to bed.” She glanced at Kimber. “I won’t use all the hot water, I promise.”

Kimber didn’t respond to the mellow joke. Natalie met his eyes, hers filled with concern.

“I’ll take care of her,” he promised.

She gave a nod and left the living room.

Duncan sat beside Kimber and put an arm around her shoulders. He pulled her to his side, wishing his body held heat like a human’s so he could warm her, console her. The fact that she didn’t fight the little bit of comfort he tried to give told him clearly how defeated she felt at the moment. She remained stiff, not relaxing into his light hold at all. She seemed to be regaining some vitality, because color had seeped back into skin that had gone gray with the energy she’d used to tap into the Unseen.

They sat like that for several minutes. The sound of the shower shut off—a record short time for Natalie—and then the bathroom door opened. He heard her patter to the bedroom she and Kimber shared, and that door closed.

Duncan rubbed his palm up and down Kimber’s upper arm, lending his silent support as she processed Bishop’s death. Finally she took a shuddering breath and settled against him. She turned slightly, winding one arm behind his back and the other across his waist, turning his one-armed hug into a true embrace.

“I’m sorry for hitting you,” she whispered. She rubbed her face against his shoulder. “I know it wasn’t your fault.”

Duncan brought his left arm over her and clasped his hands together. He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “It wasn’t your fault, either.”

She stiffened slightly. “If I hadn’t—”

“No, Kimber.” He tightened his hold. “Enough. You can’t keep blaming yourself for creating this mess. Even if you somehow caused it through your necromancy, you didn’t do it on purpose.” He paused. “Unless you have some secret take-over-the-world plan I don’t know anything about.”

She snorted a laugh. “No. No plans to take over the world with my zombie hordes.”

“Good to know.” He could feel the slight tremble going through her body and knew the lingering effects of shock continued to affect her. “Come on,” he said, standing and drawing her to her feet.

“Where’re we going?” She swayed, clutching at his arms for balance.

“You’re going to take a shower.” He swept her up into his arms and strode down the hallway. He didn’t set her down until he reached the bathroom. He reached into the shower and turned on the water, adjusting it until it was warm enough, then turned back to her. She stood where he’d placed her, blinking up at him. He stroked the back of his hand down her satiny cheek. “Go on, then,” he murmured. “Get your clothes off and hop in.” He turned to leave.

“Duncan.” Her scratchy voice stopped him.

He looked at her. Her eyes beseeched him, tugged at a heart he’d long ago been certain he’d squandered. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

The brokenness in her voice broke the heart he’d just rediscovered. “Kimber, if I get naked with you…” He wanted her. But he wasn’t going to take advantage of her trauma. She’d lost a good friend and wasn’t thinking things through. If she were, the last person on the planet with whom she’d want to be nude was him. She’d always been very clear about that. He shook his head. “Just take a shower. I’ll be in the living room when you’re done.”

He started to leave the bathroom again but she called him back. “I
want
you to get naked with me,” she whispered.

Shock made him draw a reflexive and unnecessary breath. It didn’t, however, keep him from getting an erection. He slowly moved to face her again. He wasn’t so noble that he could continue to turn her down. He wanted her to be very sure about what she was asking of him, what consequences would come of her request. “If we’re both naked, I’m going to fuck you,” he said, his voice and words raw and needy. His fangs elongated, the slight prick of them against his lip a reminder of how far gone he was already. “It won’t be slow and gentle. I’ve waited too long. I’m so desperate to get inside you that I’ll fuck you hard and fast. I’ll work my cock so deep you’ll feel me against your womb.”

Her pupils dilated. She bit her bottom lip but met his gaze head-on. “I don’t want slow. I don’t want gentle. I need hard and fast and desperate.” She pulled his T-shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. The upper swells of her breasts gleamed pale against the soft lace of her bra.