In the Dark (38 page)

He reached for
my wrist. I pulled my arm away.

“Don’t
touch me,” I said. I said it again, because my voice sounded so
interesting . . . realized I wasn’t focusing. Snapped my eyes
back on him.

He stayed too
close to me, though he didn’t grab for me again. I felt
compressed.

Canned
vampire. Delicious and nutritious.

I choked on a
giggle.

“Specter’s
coming,” Alec hissed. “I’ve been keeping an eye on
him. He’s watching. He’s planning an attack tonight.”

With my stolen
warmth I could feel his cold. I shivered. “Fuck off, Alec.”

“I know
you think Cain is some sort of hero – Ian, I’m telling
you, he’s not. We have to leave before Specter tracks you
down.” He reached for me again.

I jerked back
from him and glared. “Thanks for the warning.”

He scowled. I
tried to read how he felt, to decide if I should take him seriously.
But someone went by juggling some glow-sticks, and I had to watch
that because the sticks trailed light like it just spilled out of
them . . . I flashed back to Alec again. Trying to read him. That’s
what I was doing. I focused on him again, and felt my eyes wander
away to the left this time, watching a pretty girl with spiky blond
hair smile at me. She didn’t seem to notice Alec . . . none of
them did. I looked back at him again.

“You’ll
live to regret this,” he snapped, more irritated than worried
now. I still couldn’t read him. Every time I tried, something
else made me look away. Almost like he wasn’t even there.

“Stop it,”
I told him, suddenly certain he was doing something to keep me from
focusing on him. I realized I was still high, though, and hesitated.

But I could
still read everyone else.

“Alec,”
I started, about to tell him that if he’d just quit slipping
out of focus I could decide if I believed him. But without another
word, he spun on his heel and stalked away.

I wondered about
how distracted I felt for a few long, liquidy seconds. Maybe Alec
just really bored me. I choked on another giggle, then let it out and
laughed at myself. A couple of people around me started laughing too,
not because they got the joke, but just because they were high and
laughter made them want to laugh.

Then what Alec
said came back. About Specter . . . and an attack. My head cleared
out, at least some, while my knees went weak. I turned and ran to
find Sebastian.

S
ebastian
stood in a dark corner outside the warehouse, waiting. He watched Ian
slide in between the people, dancing, moving inside the warehouse
itself. He did not feel the need to join her, simply following her
with his eyes instead. She ought to be safe enough.

One week.

One week before
Specter moved on his own to destroy them both. Six nights, now. And
the only plan Sebastian could come up with was to find and
assassinate Specter. The man who had taught him almost everything he
knew.

A burning
sensation tightened Sebastian’s chest, one that had become
familiar of late.

I was his
pawn.

Sebastian had
devoted centuries to that creature – not only centuries, but
his word and honor – fallen for the same tricks of conditioning
he now saw the others mired in. Tricks! Swearing oaths that in the
end meant the pack would destroy itself before any one member came
for Specter. Codes of conduct that put them at each others’
throats, their lovers’ throats, other vampires’ throats,
but never Specter’s. Things Sebastian now saw as clouding and
polluting. Things he now recognized as games.

He knew how he’d
become caught up in it. As a new vampire, confused, lost, grieving.
Specter had implemented the laws and codes, shown the young man
Sebastian had been the price of breaking those laws and codes. For
one so young and troubled to see through such careful manipulation –
it was not likely.

And even if
one of the young ones did see through it, either the others tore him
apart for treason or Specter took him down himself.

His belly burned
with the urge to draw his sword and strike out. The target didn’t
matter. The smell and feel of hot blood would satisfy him as well as
cold. And here, at this warehouse, were so many he could unleash his
anger on . . .

Specter’s
way of handling anger. A way Sebastian had accepted and used for too
long now. As he nearly had with Josephine.

A way of
keeping him safe from us. Unleash us on one another. Or on the
mortals.

It made too much
sense. Sebastian dug his fingernails into his arm, intent on
controlling what he had been taught to free. When they got home, he
would go out hunting. Search out the correct target for his anger. As
soon as Ian finished.

“Ah,
Cain.” The voice sent prickles up Sebastian’s neck. “You
never were one for patience.”

Sebastian raised
his head slowly, though his fingers clenched into his skin. Just over
his shoulder and a few feet behind stood the black-haired man he had
known as his mentor. Sebastian’s teeth ground together hard
enough that they ached. Specter gave him a sickly sweet smile.

“I’ve
come about the child you won’t let out of your sight.”
His face pulled into a frown. “It’s sickening, really,
watching you dote on her as if you were some sort of white knight.”
He cocked his head to one side. “No matter. Let’s call
off this charade. We both know you don’t intend to hand her
over. I challenge you, Cain. Winner take all, hm?”

The jaunty pose,
the flippant issue – Sebastian wanted to pull his sword and
shred the bastard where he stood. But there were too many people
here. They might see it as a show, until one sword or the other
beheaded one of the two of them. Becoming a spectacle was not a good
way to maintain his privacy, or to allow Ian to remain hidden.

Without a word,
Sebastian withdrew his nails from the skin of his arm and walked away
from the club.

A cocky grin
split Specter’s face as he followed. A grin Sebastian hoped to
wipe from his mentor’s face. Permanently.

I
shoved my way back through bodies, shivering at the eerie
dèjá
vu
that caused. So warm and protecting before, the dancers just
got in my way now. Just like that night at the Half-Moon.

Keeping my head
low and moving forward, I managed to shove my way to the door. It had
started raining; another sensual delight to those still tripping.
From the door I had to deal with more people, but with no walls to
get pressed against I got through them double-time.

I ran back to
where I’d left Sebastian to brood, leaned against a wall a safe
distance from anyone having fun.

I didn’t
see him. A cold chill tried to trace up my spine. I shoved it down.

Okay, okay,
maybe you just need to get closer. He’s there.

He wasn’t
there. The cold chill broke loose and shook me.

I got right on
top of where I’d left him. No Sebastian. I turned full circle,
searching – nobody but ravers. I forced myself to hold my
breath while I fought shaking fear. Now was not the time for
hysterics. I needed to be logical and in charge.

The only reason
I could think of him leaving was if someone forced him. Damn tough.
Unless it was someone from his pack – like Specter.

Shit. Shit.
Now what?

I searched
harder, desperately, hoping maybe I’d find him around a corner,
a few feet away, somewhere close. I didn’t see him. Worse, the
high from the warehouse had followed me all the way down the block,
threading into my thoughts, wrecking my focus.

I paused to
close my eyes. Tried to clear my head a bit, tried to let myself
feel
Sebastian. His stoic personality, the little pieces of passion I’d
seen him display, the sound of his voice. Not that it worked. But I
kept looking, kept thinking about what Sebastian felt like, telling
myself that if he’d gotten into real trouble, I’d be able
to tell.

When I heard the
gun go off
rat-tat-tat-tat-tat
like some old mobster movie, I
bolted.

The sound went
on and on, shot after shot after shot. Part of me cringed, wondering
how many bullets it would take to shoot a vampire to death, part of
me zeroing in on the sound and hoping it didn’t stop until I
found it.

It did stop, but
by then I’d picked out the direction the noise came from. I
pelted down the pavement towards certain danger, no longer high, not
concerned about what might happen to me. Only scared for Sebastian.

“
I
think this will do.” Specter said it as if examining an item
for purchase.

Sebastian
followed him into the blind alley, agreeing silently. It was
unoccupied, one way in or out, no windows or doors close to the
ground. As good a place as the city would offer.

“Now.”
Specter turned to throw back his coat.

Sebastian threw
his aside as well, hand already on the heavy hilt of his blade. But
Specter did not draw his own sword – instead he leaped,
catching the fire escape above him. He hauled himself up and over
Sebastian’s head, his sword still sheathed.

Sebastian
whipped around, intent on catching Specter as he landed. He didn’t
hear the rapid-fire explosions at first. Not until he felt the fiery
pain of bullets ripping into him as he turned.

They stung like
a hundred knives stabbing him one after the other. He whirled, sword
drawn, to find his one exit blocked. Specter had dropped down behind
him, a semi-automatic rifle jerking in his hands, spraying the alley
and Sebastian with shards of fire. A few pinged off his sword.

Sebastian rushed
Specter, only then discovering how much damage he’d already
taken. Tiny holes spattered his legs; one leg buckled after only a
step. He crashed to his knees, then hauled himself back up. Injuries
dotted his torso. Several bullets had lodged inside him. And still
more came!

Bastard!

With a hateful
snarl, Sebastian took one, hard leap at Specter. His mentor’s
face spread in disappointed surprise.

In one swipe he
knocked the gun aside, silencing its spatter. The next swipe should
have caught Specter’s neck, but his mentor had pulled away,
already running as he spun.

Sebastian
stretched to go after him – and collapsed to the ground again.
The jolt of hot pain that surged up and down his leg told the story:
his right kneecap had shattered. The landing must have been the final
stress it could not take. He could not force it to take weight –
there was nothing there.

“Damn!”

He pushed
himself to kneel on his less injured leg. Specter’s back
vanished down the street, out of sight in moments. Sebastian growled,
but nothing could be done. Specter had gone. He was incapable of
following. He growled once more, forcing his anger back, and took
stock of himself.

Bullets riddled
him. He could feel them within, grating against muscle and bone. His
internal organs – such as they were – had ruptured, bones
had broken, muscles were torn apart. His heart, at least, had taken
no damage, but little else had been spared. The entrance wounds were
tiny holes, the exit wounds wide and gaping across his flesh.

If it wasn’t
for that damned leg he could have gone after the coward!

“Sebastian?”

He turned and
saw Ian running toward him. When he faced her, she covered her mouth
with her hands.

“Oh,
shit!” she whispered. “Are you all right?”

His anger had
begun to cool, slowly. He pushed himself up with mutilated arms,
taking his weight with his usable leg. Ian hooked her arms under his
and helped him up. The sound of metal grating against bone traveled
through him to his ears. Sirens burst to life a few blocks away.

“Take us
out of here,” Sebastian instructed her.

She stared at
him blankly. He didn’t have time to sigh. “I cannot walk
quickly. You will have to carry me, over your shoulder, as fast as
you can. Do it.”

She nodded and
grabbed awkwardly at him. He settled himself over her shoulder to
balance his weight over her smaller frame. He was about to urge her
to go when she did, as fast as he could hope under the circumstances.
He directed her around the corner and up two blocks, getting away
from the area just as mortal law enforcement came onto the scene.

“Set me
down,” he told her, well aware they could only get so far
without notice. She released him as gently as she could, setting him
with a soft thump on the sidewalk. He grit his teeth as his body
convulsed in agony.

“Sit and
look curious,” he ordered, and tucked his ruined leg to his
chest. He wrapped his long coat around it as another squad car sped
by them – a pair of innocent bystanders.

They rested as
long as they could. Ian fussed over him silently, straightening his
coat, wiping blood from his face. He let her. She was in a state of
shock, but still functioning. A relief. When the police officer came
to shoo them away, Sebastian nodded amiably. Ian followed his lead as
if they had planned it.

“We were
sitting here, officer, the whole time,” he told the mortal. “We
are nothing to worry about. My leg is bad, you see, but nothing
serious.”

“Well,
move along,” the mortal agreed. “There’ve been
shots fired. You need to move along.”

Ian stood and
offered him a hand. He took it, again pleased at her level of
composure. She pulled him up while the mortal ignored Sebastian’s
butchered leg.

“You will
have to drive,” he told her, handing her his keys. “Can
you drive a manual car?”

She shook her
head.