Shadows Strike(26)

Cliff hesitated.

“You, too, Cliff,” Seth invited.

Wiping his hand on his black cargo pants, Cliff added his to the pile.

Seth closed his eyes and replayed the images of battle he had found in Heather’s memories. He would’ve preferred to do it from Ethan’s perspective, since Ethan would recall even the most minute detail, but couldn’t read Ethan’s mind without causing him considerable pain. Ethan’s brain was just wired differently than other people’s. Seth had never been able to determine why.

Seth opened his eyes.

The others lowered their hands and stepped back.

“The first encounter seemed accidental,” Zach murmured.

“And yet,” Seth countered, “Gershom knew it would happen and showed Heather over and over again in advance to lure her into it.”

Bastien scowled. “Did he guide Ethan to the battle? Fuck with his thoughts and use him like a puppet the way he did Whetsman?”

Seth shook his head. “I doubt it. Ethan’s mind is incredibly hard to penetrate. Zach and I are the only immortals who can do it and we can’t do it without giving him a nosebleed.”

Zach nodded. “And that’s just to read his thoughts. Exerting enough power and enough of a push to force impulses in there may very well kill him. So I’m not certain it’s possible to manipulate Ethan.”

Another tense, thoughtful pause ensued.

“The vampires in tonight’s battle seemed intent on getting to Heather,” Aidan said. “Why? Could she have some meaning to Gershom?”

Seth had wondered the same thing. “If so, it isn’t fondness. Had Ethan waited even a moment longer to call me, she would have died tonight. Gershom did nothing to aid her during the battle or to prevent her from being run through. Nor did he heal her afterward.”

The four warriors looked as puzzled as Seth felt.

“I’m not seeing a motive,” Bastien murmured, “a connection.”

Zach shook his head. “Nor am I.”

“Nor I,” Aidan added.

“Could these attacks be related to Whetsman trying to steal more of the sedative?” Cliff asked. “Could the vampires be part of another mercenary army?”

“They didn’t fight like mercenaries,” Seth said. “But I suppose anything is possible.”

“What do you want us to do?” Bastien asked.

“I want you, Aidan, and Cliff to return to network headquarters. Spend the rest of the night there, as well as the day, while Heather recuperates. Ethan will wish to remain with her, I’m sure. Stay vigilant and keep your senses open to anything that would indicate Gershom has come looking for them, and contact me if you have even the slightest suspicion that he has. If he strikes before you can call me . . . Aidan, teleport Heather to safety. Teleport multiple times to multiple countries around the globe to throw Gershom off track. Bastien, you, Ethan, and Cliff try to keep Gershom busy to buy Aidan some time until I can join you.”

“Does Ethan know any of this?” Bastien asked.

“No. I’ll speak with Ethan and Heather once she’s back on her feet.”

Zach spoke. “He won’t want to leave her side if something foul goes down.”

“Aidan won’t give him time to object. Will you, Aidan?”

Aidan smiled. “Nope.”

“Again,” Seth stressed, “stay vigilant. And let the other vampires out to play if things get nasty.”

The three nodded.

“Zach, I want you to sniff around here—inside and outside Heather’s home—and see if you can catch a whiff of Gershom. He had to have been close to have planted those dreams, then would’ve had to return several times to ensure they continued to plague her every night for a year. If he orchestrated tonight’s attack, as we suspect he did, he may have been sitting on the damned roof the whole time it went down. It would certainly explain why Ethan wasn’t able to detect their presence before they attacked.”

Zach nodded. “What will you do with the woman once she’s well?”

Another problem. “She can’t return here. If Gershom came for her, Ethan would be no match for him.”

“Nor would he sense Gershom’s presence,” Zach added. If possible, his look turned grimmer. “But Ami might if Heather stayed at David’s.”

Bastien swore. “Hell, no! And put Ami and the baby in Gershom’s line of sight?”

Seth held up a hand. “I agree. It’s too dangerous.” He looked to Zach. “So I’d like Ethan and Heather to stay with you and Lisette until we get to the bottom of this.”

Now Zach swore foully.

“You don’t like it,” Seth said, “but you see the wisdom of it.”

“Yes,” he growled.

“You may be able to sense Gershom’s presence. And if you can’t and he comes for Heather or Ethan for whatever purpose he has in mind, you can probably defeat him . . . or at least hold him off until I can join the fight. Then we can end this.”

Zach loosed another growl of defeat.

“So,” Cliff said, “you’re going to use Ethan and Heather as bait?”

Seth didn’t like it either, but . . . “One or the other of them means something to Gershom. Otherwise he wouldn’t have brought the two together and orchestrated the vampire attacks. I don’t know which one or what his purpose is, but it’s the only thing we have to go on right now, and both of them need to be protected. I would protect them myself, but am called away too often to aid immortals and their Seconds.”

“Are you going to tell Ethan and Heather all of it?” Bastien asked.

“Yes,” Seth decided.

He was not looking forward to Ethan’s response.





Heather sighed as sleep receded.

She almost hated to relinquish her hold on it. It had been a long time since she had slept so peacefully, free of violent dreams battling vampires. A year, in fact.

That was a long time to go without a good, restful sleep.

As she let consciousness creep in, her senses went to work, cataloging all of the things she would know if she would just pry her heavy eyelids open.

She lay in a bed. In an empty room?

No. Somewhere a piece of paper rasped as though a page had turned. And a conglomeration of thoughts and voices from the minds of males overlapped one another and pummeled her until she consciously blocked them out.

Quiet descended. Much better.

Her nose was cold. But an appealing scent teased it. Masculine. Familiar. Very nice.

The rest of her, however, was toasty warm thanks to the large male body curled up beside her.

Her eyes flew open. Heather turned her head on the pillow. Her breath caught.

Ethan.

Damn, the man was beautiful.

He must have showered. Her last, vague image of him had been a bloody one. Now the jet-black hair that teased her nose gleamed in the overhead lighting and smelled like fresh rain. His handsome face had been scrubbed clean, the dark stubble from yesterday darker and more pronounced, lending him a yummy rugged appearance. Those iridescent eyes of his were closed in slumber. His soft lips, parted ever so slightly, touched her hospital gown–clad shoulder.

He lay on his side, her right hand clutched to his chest with his left. The hard muscles of that bare chest provided much of the heat that warmed her. His right arm rested upon her belly, his fingers curled over her side. The heavy weight caused her no pain, so her stab wound must have been healed.

His left leg stretched along the length of hers. His right weighed down her thighs. Between them, through the material of whatever pants he wore, she could feel the long, hard length of him against her hip.

He was aroused.

Her eyes flitted back up to his face. But he was asleep.

And she so wanted to wake him . . . until she reminded herself that they weren’t alone.

Her gaze slid to the other side of the bed.

A young African American man reclined in a chair next to the bed, Bose earbuds in the ears nearly hidden beneath thick dreadlocks. His angular jaw was clean shaven, his chocolate skin as flawless as a cover model’s.

Heather wondered idly if everyone in the Immortal Guardians’ world was handsome.

When he noticed her staring, the man removed his earbuds and offered her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re awake.”

She nodded.

He held up the earbuds. “Sorry about that. I listen to audiobooks and music to block out the voices.” He began to wrap the earbuds’ cord around an iPod.

“Block out what voices?” she asked, quietly enough—she hoped—not to wake Ethan. “The voices of the employees?” She seemed to recall Ethan telling her that they were at network headquarters. This must be another immortal if he could hear all the voices in the building.

“No.” He set the iPod on a rolling tray beside the bed. “The voices in my head.”

“Oh. You’re a telepath?” There seemed to be a lot of those in the Immortal Guardians’ world.

“I wish,” he said, his tone almost wistful. “No, I’m a vampire.”

And, according to Ethan, the virus drove vampires insane.

Oh shit. She tensed.

“Relax,” a voice with a . . . Scottish? . . . accent murmured. “Cliff is on our side.”

Cliff. She knew that name. The other immortals had mentioned him. Something about a psychotic break. They had all seemed quite concerned about him.