The world around her lit up with sparkly things that had nothing to do with auras. All strength left her limbs as agony pounded her head.
Krysta staggered. Her thoughts scattered.
Somewhere a lion roared.
The glowing orange auras surrounding her fell away as shining purple and white rolled through them like a bowling ball felling pins.
Krysta’s weapons clattered to the ground, her fingers unable to grasp anything but her aching head.
She sank to her knees.
“Krysta!”
Chapter 4
Étienne wasn’t usually one to panic. Even as a mortal, when fighting, he had always kept his cool.
But seeing Krysta felled by a vampire’s fist . . .
“Krysta!” he called again, after severing that fist and leaving the vampire to bleed out.
His swords swung like the blades of a propeller, cutting through the vampires as though they were no more than air.
Had it been more than a glancing blow, wouldn’t she be down on the ground and either unconscious or dying from a fractured skull? Sarah had nearly died when Bastien had fractured her skull. Her ears had even bled.
Étienne tried to see if Krysta bled from her ears, but couldn’t take his eyes off the damned vampires.
Finally, the last vamp succumbed to Étienne’s swords.
Racing to Krysta’s side, he knelt before her and dropped his weapons. “Are you okay?” He clasped her shoulder with one hand and gently raised her chin with the other.
Her lovely face was pinched with pain. “I’m okay,” she gritted. “My head just hurts like a bitch. I think I might have a concussion. My vision is all fuzzy.”
Her pupils were a little dilated, too.
“What about you?” she murmured. “Are you okay?”
Shock, pleasure, and all kinds of things he refused to examine too closely flowed through him. “I’m fine. Hardly a scratch on me.”
“Must be nice. Help me up, will you?”
“Of course.” He helped her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her when she swayed.
“The bastards all came after me,” she complained, leaning into him.
Did she realize the trust she was placing in him?
He cleared his throat, trying to ignore how good it felt to have her tucked up against his side. “Vampires are often cowards and seek the weaker target.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I just meant—”
“I get it. I just don’t like it.”
“That I’m stronger than you are?”
“Yes. What’s an Immortal Guardian?”
Étienne swore silently. He had hoped she hadn’t caught that.
“A what?” he stalled, not knowing how to answer.
“You heard me. An Immortal Guardian.” Stepping away, she clung to his arm until she was steady, then released him and met his gaze. “The vampires called you an Immortal Guardian.”
His cursed mind went blank.
“They also called me a Second. What’s a Second?”
Still nothing. What had Roland told Sarah when faced with such questions?
“Who is Bastien the Deceiver?”
He swore aloud then. “Aren’t you supposed to have a concussion? How are you remembering all of this?”
“You’re stalling.”
Yes, he was.
Étienne paced away several steps. “I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you secrets that are not solely my own to share,” he tried to explain.
“So there are more like you.”
Étienne stared at her, wanting to trust her.
A sharp pain pierced his neck.
Wincing, he reached up, felt something protruding from the skin, and removed it.
“What’s that?” Krysta asked.
His blood went cold as he stared down at the tiny object his fingers clutched.
“Is that a tranquilizer dart?” she asked, voice full of confusion.
Yes, it was. Merde.
“Run,” he ordered as weakness began to infiltrate him.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. This shouldn’t be possible.
“What?” She started to approach him.
Étienne shook his head. “Run!” He closed the distance between them, retrieved her weapons from the ground, and urged her toward the corner of the nearest building. “Call your brother. Choose a safe place for him to meet you a few blocks from here and run there. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. And don’t let anyone follow you home.”
“I don’t understand. What’s going on? Why is your accent getting thicker? What—?”
Another sting. Étienne yanked another dart from the back of his neck and swore foully. The shooters were definitely behind them.
His knees weakened. He didn’t carry the autoinjector containing the antidote anymore. He hadn’t thought there was a reason to. The human threat had been extinguished.