Dianne Duvall: Darkness Rises

Melanie ignored him, jamming the pen into Krysta’s arm.

Krysta gasped. Eyes widening, she jackknifed into a seated position, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

“Are you okay?” Melanie asked, taking her by the wrist.

Krysta nodded. “My heart is racing.”

“Any chest pain?”

“No.”

“Difficulty breathing?”

“I’m breathing kind of fast, but . . . I think I’m okay.”

“Let me know immediately if that changes for the worse.”

Krysta nodded and scrambled to her feet, picking up the swords she had dropped.

Melanie caught Étienne’s gaze. Tell the others the mercenaries have upped the dose. One dart will fell them so swiftly they won’t have time to use the antidote. Any immortal felled should be given the antidote twice. “You’re sure you’re okay?” she asked Krysta.

Nodding, Krysta leaped into the fray again, a big grin lighting her face. “I’m fine. Thank you!”

Melanie darted out the door.

Seth warned the others before Étienne had a chance.

Étienne jerked his head to the side just in time to avoid a dart.

Moments later, the last mercenary fell and Étienne raced forward to yank Krysta into his arms.

“I’m okay,” she muttered into his shirt.

He could feel how swiftly her chest rose and fell, heard her racing heart, and wasn’t so sure about that. “You’re practically panting.”

“What can I say? You turn me on,” she retorted.

“Don’t joke about this!” he snapped, tightening his hold on her.

“I’m sorry,” she said and leaned back. “I’m okay. Really. I think double the antidote is a little too strong, but I don’t feel like I’m dying or anything.”

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“I know, honey. I really am okay. I actually feel . . . great .” And damned near danced in place, seeming unable to remain still. “Really juiced. Like I could . . . I don’t know . . . take out a helicopter or something.” Laughing, she tugged him toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go. We still have lots of ass to kick.”

Étienne steadied her when she nearly tripped over a body in her haste, then followed her outside.

Bastien and Melanie raced past toward the third and last barracks.

“We’ve got the last one,” Bastien called and plunged inside, Melanie right behind him.

Richart appeared in front of Étienne and gave Krysta a quick once-over. “Are you all right?” he asked, face full of concern.

“I’m awesome!” she declared with worrisome enthusiasm.

Richart cast Étienne a dubious glance.

“You heard Seth?” Etienne asked.

His brother nodded. “Stay safe.” He vanished.

You, too, Étienne thought.

Ethan and Edward, along with Richart, steadily reduced the numbers of the guards outside.

All hell had broken loose in the hangars, judging by the sounds of it, so Yuri and Stanislov appeared to have things under control there.

Or not.

Three mercenaries fled one hangar and scrambled into a helicopter. The blades began to rotate as the engine hummed to life.

Krysta gave Étienne a huge grin, her face lighting with excitement. “I’m doing it!” she blurted, sheathing her swords and drawing two daggers.

“What?”

“I’m taking out that helicopter!” Whooping, she dashed away.

“Wait!” He took off after Krysta. Melanie!

Yes?

Can a double dose of the antidote cause erratic behavior?

That’s definitely a possibility. It’s a stimulant and frighteningly strong. Why?

The helicopter lifted off the ground.

Krysta picked up speed, running damned near as fast as an elder.

Because I think Krysta has lost her damned mind!

The helicopter began to move away, strafing the yard with machine gun fire.

Krysta veered toward a Humvee, jumped onto the hood and, without slowing, leaped into the air.

Étienne nearly dropped dead of a fucking heart attack as he watched her fly through the air and dive through a side door, tackling one of the door gunners.

Fuck!

Jumping onto the Humvee, he leaped after her.

The helicopter wobbled and began to spin away.

Étienne brushed the landing gear with his fingers and latched on, pulling himself up and through a side door.

One door gunner was dead. A second soldier fell out the other side. The pilot . . .

Krysta buried a dagger in his heart as he spun toward her with a 9mm.

The helicopter tilted and spun as the pilot abandoned the controls and slumped over dead.

“Now what?” Étienne demanded incredulously as she turned a triumphant smile on him. He sure as hell couldn’t fly this thing. And they couldn’t jump without being caught in the rotors.

Her face fell. “Oh, shit. I didn’t think of that.”

Seth!

The ground rushed toward them.

Seth appeared in the helicopter and promptly bumped his head. “Ah! Shit!” Reaching out with both hands, he grabbed their shoulders.

Étienne breathed a sigh of relief when they teleported to the tarmac in front of one of the hangars.

Fire reached toward the sky as the helicopter crashed and exploded. Pieces of the rotor blades tore off and shot through the night, taking out several more mercenaries for them.

“You!” Seth said, pointing an authoritative finger at Krysta. “Calm the fuck down!”

Eyes wide, she nodded hastily. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what—”

“It’s the drug. I know. Étienne, keep her in check.” He vanished.

Krysta stared up at Étienne, eyes wide. “I can’t believe I just did that. I’m so sorry. Are you hurt? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine. You just scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. She hadn’t thought. Energy had poured through her, demanding an immediate outlet. She had seen the helicopter and . . .

She hadn’t thought. She had just acted.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing one of her Glocks and firing over her shoulder at some threat behind her.

“Yes.”

“No chest pains?”

“No. My breathing is even beginning to slow.” And rational thought was returning.

He nodded.

“I really am sorry,” she said. They could have died in that helicopter. One of the rotor blades could have decapitated them when it crashed. Or they could have burned to death in the fire.

Could fire kill immortals?

“It’s all right. Let’s go help Yuri and Stanislov—”

Eyes rolling back in his head, he dropped to the pavement.

“Étienne!”

A dart stuck out of his shoulder.

Looking past him, she jerked to the side to avoid a dart aimed at her, then flung a dagger at the mercenary aiming his tranquilizer gun at them.

It sank to the hilt in the man’s chest, felling him as quickly as the dart had dropped Étienne.

Kneeling, Krysta rolled Étienne onto his back and drew out two autoinjectors with shaking fingers. “Étienne?” She flipped the lids open and jabbed them into his neck.

A few seconds later he gasped. Eyes flying open, he sat up so swiftly he rammed his head into hers.

“Ow! Shit, your head is hard!” she complained, rubbing her throbbing forehead.

“What happened?”

“Seriously, you didn’t feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“Never mind. You were tranqed. Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “I’m great!” He leapt to his feet, a wide smile splitting his blood-painted face. “Let’s go kick some ass!”

Krysta scrambled to her feet as he sped into the nearest hangar. “Wait!”

Something exploded inside.

“Oh, crap.” She took off after him.