[Phantom Warriors 01] Bacchus (4 page)

the job wasn’t the same as working with amphibians and reptiles.

A particularly funny line from the TV show drew her back from her musings. Jill

laughed, temporarily forgetting about her plans and her earlier apprehensions.

* * * * *

Bacchus left Jill’s house after she went to bed. Tonight, he’d organize for his

approach much like he prepared for battle, with one exception. This war, more than any

other, would determine his future and the fate of the Phantom race.

He drove north for several miles, his mind on Jill. The open window delivered cool

air to the inside of the car, but did little to diminish his need. He was so caught up in

planning for their first meeting that Bacchus almost missed the woman’s muffled

screams in the distance. He hit the brakes and the car skidded to a stop in the middle of

the road. Bacchus listened, his heart pounding in his chest. Silence ensued.

Had he imagined the cries?

Bacchus pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine. He glided out

of the seat, his tongue testing the air for danger. It took two turns to the right, but he

found what he sought. The trail of sweat and fear was faint, but he’d be able to follow it.

Bacchus got back into the vehicle and swung it around.

A mile later he found the darkened alley where a woman lay crouched on the

ground. Her knees were cut, along with her hands. Bruises marred her pretty face. Her

eyes watered as shock took hold and left her shaken. The men had ripped her skirt,

leaving her exposed, covered in nothing, but her underwear. A group of men

surrounded her, taunting like a pack of hungry dogs. Her shirt hung from her limbs, the

buttons torn from their threads.

Bacchus caught snippets of the conversation, something about pulling a train, which

made no sense, since they were miles from the railroad tracks. No one in the nearby

houses came to her rescue. It was as if they didn’t hear her cries. Or didn’t want to.

Televisions were turned up to their highest volumes and radios blasted distorted songs.

Bacchus’ forked tongue slithered out of his mouth once again. He tasted sexual

need, along with depravity. So they planned to fuck this helpless woman once they

finished beating her. Anger boiled inside him. Bacchus pulled the car into the alley and

stopped, cutting the engine and the lights as he stepped out. His feet were silent upon

the uneven ground as he moved closer to the men.

“Are you lost, man?” one of the men asked, noticing his approach.

“No, I’m aware of my surroundings,” he said, causing the men to shoot confused

glances at each other.

“Then what are you doing here?” a dark-haired, pock-faced man asked, stepping

toward him in a manner Bacchus was sure was meant to be threatening.

The man had no way of knowing the creatures that he’d faced in battle in order to

prove himself a warrior. His stern stance was little more than an annoyance that Bacchus

could easily dispatch with no effort whatsoever.

“This isn’t a safe neighborhood to be in,” he continued, aggression oozing from his

pores.

“I can see that,” Bacchus said. His gaze flicked to the each man, before focusing on

the woman who wept silently, her brown eyes a mixture of pleading and fear. The beast

inside Bacchus rejoiced. A good fight would alleviate some of the sexual tension

strumming through his body.

“I think you should leave, if you know what’s good for you,” the young man said,

pulling up his shirt to show Bacchus the gun hidden in his low-riding pants.

A bullet couldn’t penetrate his flight suit, but it could leave a nasty hole in his head.

Bacchus doubted any of these men were good enough shots to pull off that feat. Even so,

he wouldn’t give them the opportunity to try. He felt his power flow. He knew his eyes

would blaze red in the darkness like a demon from their religious texts. He heard the

men gasp and then they stepped back.

In the next instant, Bacchus’ fangs unfurled and venom shot ten feet, spraying three

of the men in the face. Screams rang out as the men wiped their eyes. The toxins would

temporarily blind them while he took care of the others. Bacchus roared, blurring his

image until he was a nightmare come to life.

He surged forward as the young man who’d been speaking earlier reached for his

weapon. He pulled the gun out and fired repeatedly. The rounds penetrated a wall

nearby, sending plaster raining onto the ground. Bacchus grasped the man’s fingers and

squeezed. The man screamed. A loud crunch filled the air as the bones crumbled and

snapped. He kept his grip on the man long enough to pull him forward. The man’s

terrified wails increased when Bacchus sank his fangs deep into his throat and began to

drink. He struggled for a second more, then went limp in surrender.

His blood tasted sour on Bacchus’ tongue. Something tainted his body. Bacchus

dropped the man onto the ground with a thud. He’d remain paralyzed for the next few

hours due to the tiny bit of venom he’d purposely expelled when he bit him. Bacchus

turned to face the final three, only to see two of them swivel and run. The third stood his

ground, a knife clutched beneath white knuckles.

“Come on!” he shouted. “I’m not afraid of a vampire. I have a cross.” He pulled his

shirt open to show Bacchus the large silver chain around his neck, grasping it like a

talisman.

The hypocrisy of the move did not escape him. Bacchus threw his head back and

laughed, licking blood from his fangs as he did so. The young man’s taste triggered his

hunger. He fought the need for satiation.

“Do you expect me to fear the metal pressed against your chest, when you do not?”

Bacchus asked.

“Vampires can’t look upon crosses. It hurts them.” The man glanced around as if

help would suddenly appear.

Bacchus brushed his clothing. “I did not know that,” he said, disappearing, only to

reappear behind the man. The brush of breath on his neck was the only warning the man

received as Bacchus plunged his fangs into his jugular.

The man tried to stab him, but Bacchus’ hand shot out, catching the weapon before it

could do any damage.

He retracted his fangs to speak. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he said,

before gripping the man’s chin and craning his neck for better access.

Bacchus drank until he sated his hunger. The rich fiery taste of blood filled every

cell in his body. He stopped when he heard the man’s heart stutter, although he had no

moral qualms when it came to killing. Bacchus bent the knife blade with little effort and

dropped it onto the ground with his drowsy attacker. He’d think twice before he

pounced upon a stranger again in a darkened alley.

The woman remained on the ground, her eyes wide with horror. She bled from so

many places it was hard for Bacchus to concentrate. He took a couple of deep breaths,

his body fading and solidifying repeatedly while he wrenched back control. The smell

of blood permeated the air like copper perfume. Finally, he stilled, his mind firmly back

under his command.

“It’s okay,” he said, holding his hand out in a soothing gesture. Bacchus lowered his

voice. “I won’t harm you.”

She whimpered and hunkered down in an attempt to make herself smaller.

Bacchus forced his fangs to furl. He hadn’t intended to scare her, but he knew there

was no helping her without a fight. He needed to get her home, so that her family could

get her medical attention. Bacchus didn’t think the men had sexually assaulted her, but

the shock of the beating wouldn’t wear off anytime soon. “Do you live around here?” he

asked.

The woman glanced up tentatively, eyeing his mouth as if she didn’t trust what she’

d seen. Bacchus relaxed. Soon she would doubt her recollection, which was for the best.

She’d been through enough. “I live a couple of blocks over,” she said, taking shuddering

gasps of air and clutching her tattered clothes to her chest.

“Let me take you home.”

She glanced around at the men on the ground. “They were going to rape me.”

“I know.” Bacchus clenched his fists. “They will not harm you again or I will return

and finish what I started.” The threat was clear for all to hear. The men whimpered in

response.

“Are they going to die?”

“Not tonight, but they will if they continue on this path of destruction.” He shook

his head. The instinct to kill was tempting. This wasn’t the first woman to suffer at the

hands of these men. Others had not been nearly as fortunate. Bacchus had tasted the

truth in their veins. He knew he could have killed them easily, but he wasn’t here to

battle an enemy, however deserving of death. He thought about Jill and his three hearts

began to pound. He was here for an entirely different kind of fight, one that involved

domination, submission and ultimate survival.

“Please, come,” Bacchus said before he changed his mind and sentenced the men to

death. He led the woman to his car, supporting her with a hand at her elbow. He opened

the door for her and waited for her to step inside. “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

Bacchus strolled back to the incapacitated men. The three blinded ones wept in fear

as they heard his purposeful footfalls, while the fourth and fifth lay supine, unable to

move, their black eyes wide with fright.

“If I ever see any of you around this woman again, I won’t be so merciful the next

time.” Bacchus allowed his fangs to unfurl as he bent over the paralyzed man. Venom

clung to the sharp tip, dropping onto the man’s white shirt. “Blink if you understand

me,” he snarled.

The man blinked rapidly, tears filling his eyes.

“Good.” Bacchus smiled, flicking his forked tongue into the air. The two men who’d

run earlier hid not far from the alley. He could hear their rapid heartbeats. They would

return and gather the remaining five, not that he cared after what they’d done to the

woman. The behavior was abhorrent. Bacchus didn’t understand this planet. With all the

resources here, including healthy women, why did they take so much for granted?

He pictured Jill. He did not have such a luxury and for once in his life he was

grateful for that small gift.

Chapter Two

Bacchus arrived on Jill’s awning-covered doorstep early the next morning, toting a

briefcase containing notes on Ryan and her brother, John that he’d scribbled the night

before. They looked professional at first glance, but wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny.

He prayed to the Goddess that she wouldn’t ask to see them. He bought the proper

clothing for the part he planned to play, so it should be easy enough to use Ryan’s

memories and work his way inside Jill’s home.

There was no guilt, only anticipation. His people were counting on him, on this

mission to be a success. Their lives depended on it. He tightened his hair in the queue,

then pressed the button on the side of the door.

Ding-dong
, the bell chimed, echoing throughout the structure.

Silence pervaded.

Bacchus frowned and hit the button again.

He heard the pad of bare feet across the floor a second before a sleepy voice called

out from the other side. “All right, all right, I’m coming. Keep your shirt on.”

He looked at his green button-down shirt and tweed jacket. The clothing was

different from what he was used to, but comfortable nonetheless. And, most

importantly, it concealed his flight suit below.

Bacchus glanced in the nearby windowpane to check to see if the sunglasses he’d

purchased at Venice Beach hid the red of his eyes. They were dark, but not too dark. He

wouldn’t need to remove them during their conversation and they would effectively

conceal the color. His body radiated heat from being in such close proximity of Jill,

sending his pheromones into the air. He inhaled, catching their unique scent. Not now.

Not yet. He pleaded with his body to remain in control. If they became too strong, they’d

render him helpless against his baser instincts and send Jill into a human version of heat.

* * * * *

Jill peeked through the spyhole at the tall man standing on her front porch and then

opened the door, a can of pepper spray tucked safely behind her back in the waistband

of her sweats. She hoped he wasn’t selling vacuum cleaners or whatever salesmen

hocked these days.

She ran her free hand through her disheveled hair, trying to push it out of her face.

Loneliness kept her awake until two in the morning. She spent the rest of the night

tossing and turning in an attempt to dispel the nightmares, which ranged from finding

John’s body, to snakes biting her repeatedly. Logically, Jill knew she’d done everything

she could for him, but logic had little effect on her emotions. She’d give anything to hear

her brother’s voice one more time. Why hadn’t he called if he needed help? He didn’t

have to kill himself. Nothing in this life was that bad.

Jill blinked against the sunlight, cracking one eye open to stare at the stranger. She

did a double take as his handsome Greco-Roman face came into focus. Hair, dark as a

raven’s wings, swept over his shoulders and down his back. His pale skin defied the

Southern California sunshine, creating a luminous glow. He stepped closer and dwarfed