Dianne Duvall - Darkness Dawns

Rising, she strode to the narrow linen closet next to the bathroom and withdrew two white sheets. The first, she shook out, folded in half, and spread across every inch of the futon’s seat that Roland didn’t cover. Then she eased him onto his back and covered him with the second.

Her work done, she stood, staring down at him for several minutes.

He seemed at once a stranger and not a stranger to her. Strong yet vulnerable.

Sarah bit her lower lip.

The rise and fall of his chest was barely discernible.

He had told her to wait until an hour before sunset to call Marcus. Though she wanted to do otherwise, she decided to respect his wishes.

For now.

In the basement of a large, isolated farmhouse, a pair of russet eyes opened. Bastien perused the darkness briefly to ensure no one had encroached upon his sanctuary.

When he had confirmed that all was safe and secure, a malevolent smile rife with triumph stretched across his handsome features.

Revenge was so sweet.

At last, his enemy was dead.

The Immortal Guardian who currently went by the name of Roland Warbrook had killed four of Bastien’s men when they had ambushed him the previous night, but Roland had paid for that with his life.

Paid for that and so much more.

Bastien closed his eyes, savoring his victory. How the bastard must have suffered as the sun rose and baked him like an oven.

He wouldn’t have burst into flames the way vampires did in movies. No, he would have blistered, then charred like meat left too long on a grill. His body, already damaged, would have been unable to heal itself. Deprived of blood, thanks to the large sample Bastien himself had extracted, the parasitic virus that infected them all would have turned on its host, devouring him from the inside out until there was nothing left upon which it might feast.

It was an agonizing death.

And one Roland had richly deserved. He and all of those like him.

Rising, Bastien donned the black clothing that allowed him to blend in with the night and topped it off with a long black coat. Once he had armed himself with his usual weaponry, he unbolted the door and left his chamber.

The ground beneath his farmhouse was riddled with catacombs painstakingly created by himself and his followers. It was a place where they could all rest without fear. Safe from sunlight. Safe from humans. Safe from Immortal Guardians who thought them too stupid to devise such.

He let a smirk curl his lips.

Would the immortals still sneer at them when the vampires began to pick them all off, one by one? Or would they realize they were outnumbered and beg for mercy, as so many vampires had in the past?

Bastien stepped out into a winding tunnel that, like a maze, branched off into numerous dead ends. He had dug and paved this wing himself and he alone knew the way to and from his chamber. Anyone else who tried to find it would inevitably end up lost and answer to him when he heard their pitiful cries for help and hunted them down.

Upon reaching the central hall, which was an expansion of the original basement, he scaled the stairs that led into the house itself. Though the house was dark, all windows carefully covered, the sun had not yet set. His brethren would sleep awhile longer. As the oldest vampire in their midst, he tended to rise before them.

His human servants, however, were up and about.

Tanner, the highest-ranking human, awaited him at the top of the steps. Roughly six feet tall with short blond hair and glasses, he looked, dressed, and sounded more like an accountant than the devoted employee of a vampire.

“They’re in your study.”

Bastien nodded, anticipation thrumming through him. With two wounded vampires he had needed to get below-ground, he had ordered Derek and Bobby to remain behind and collect whatever was left of Roland after the sun had risen. They would be here now to deliver it.

Several men lounging on the living room sofas scrambled to their feet as he walked past. Bastien acknowledged the humans with a short nod and continued on, thinking with some amusement of ways he might display Roland’s remains.

That amusement died as soon as he entered the study.

Something was wrong. Something Derek and Bobby apparently thought would spark his dangerous temper. He could smell their fear, see the tension in their stiff postures, their nervousness in the bobbing knees they couldn’t keep still as they shifted in the chairs positioned in front of his desk.

“You have something for me.”

They leapt to their feet and spun around at his words, faces paling. These two would do just about anything for him in hopes of earning a taste of the vampire’s gifts. It was why he had chosen them to complete this task.

“Where is it?” he demanded.

The twenty-somethings exchanged a terrified look. Bobby had a large bruise in the center of his forehead.

Derek, the one with the bolder nature, girded his loins and spoke. “He, uh … he escaped.”

A haze of fury instantly filled Bastien’s vision, painting the world around him red. In a heartbeat, both men were lifted and slammed to the surface of the desk. His hands tightened around their throats, restricting their airways and pinning them in place.

“He was completely immobilized and at your mercy when we left,” Bastien snarled at the quivering lumps. “What did you do?”

“It wasn’t us!” Derek cried hoarsely as Bobby whimpered and wet himself. “We were watchin’over him like you told us to and were attacked!”

“By whom? He had no way of contacting his fellow Guardians.”

“I don’t know.” He gagged and coughed until Bastien loosened his hold minutely. “I didn’t see who it was. Bobby said it was some crazy bitch with a shovel. She knocked us both out and helped the Guardian get away.”

“A woman?” he growled furiously. “A mortal woman armed with nothing but a gardening tool bested you?”

“W-we didn’t hear her coming,” he blurted. “She was … she was crazy quiet.”

One of the immortals’ Seconds, perhaps?

If so, why hadn’t she been better armed?

Bastien lifted the men and slammed them back down again hard enough to crack the heavy wooden surface of the antique desk. “Damn you! We had him!You say you want to be one of us, but when I give you a task—one simple task—you fuck it up!”

Incensed, his wound from the previous night still paining him, he roared his fury so loudly he woke the slumbering vampires below.

Fangs exploded from his gums.

Derek and Bobby began to scream.

Uncaring, Bastien bent and sank his teeth into Derek’s throat.

Hunger clawed at Roland with razor-sharp talons as he slowly came awake. The need for blood was strong. His wounds had not healed as he slept, as they would have if he had had a few units on hand. He should have taken a minute to feed on the punk who had stabbed him.

But then Sarah would have been afraid of him.

Sarah.

Eyes flying open, Roland saw her in the kitchen. She was closing the oven door and reaching over to return a pot holder to its hook on the wall.

Her bloodstained clothing had been replaced with pale blue, low-riding jeans and an olive green T-shirt that hugged her shapely figure, emphasizing a small waist, full breasts, nicely rounded hips, and a tempting ass. Her hair was still damp from a shower and spilled in thick waves down her back.

He frowned. Was one of her elbows scraped? Had that happened when she’d saved him?

She glanced at him over her shoulder, looked away, then did a double take. Face brightening, she spun around. “You’re awake.”

“Yes.”

Brow furrowing, she crossed to his side. “How are you feeling?”

“About the same.” May as well be honest whenever he could. “How long have I been out?”