Aim for the major arteries.
Blood welled and saturated white gauze as the sharp edges cut through the bandages and sliced her skin like a knife. The odor of burned rubber spoiled the late spring breeze that ruffled her hair.
Strolling to the driver’s side door, the vampire stopped within striking distance.
Sarah tensed, biding her time.
Something large slammed into the vampire, knocking him back at least fifteen yards.
The glass shard cut deep as Sarah jerked in surprise.
Leaning forward, she saw … Roland, picking himself up and turning to swing his sais at the other vampire.
Was he protecting her? Or was he saving her for himself so he could—what—bite her? Suck her blood? Kill her?
Screw that!
Turning the key, she mentally urged the engine to start. Come on.
It coughed a few times but did no more.
Come on!
She tried again and again. But it wouldn’t start.
Damn it! Her hands slick with blood, she fumbled with the door’s lock, unable to grip it. Close to screaming with frustration, she wiped her fingers on her shirt, then finally succeeded.
Throwing the door open, Sarah lurched out and raced for the trees illuminated by the headlights. They were denser than those around her house, the underbrush thicker. Weeds that reminded her of ferns brushed her thighs as she surged forward.
The light faded, penetrating the shadows only so far, and Sarah soon found herself stumbling blindly through complete darkness.
Unable to see where she was going, fearing she would run headlong into a tree and knock herself unconscious, she slowed to a brisk walk, hands outstretched before her.
Branches slapped her in the face, neck, chest, and hands, embedding the glass particles more deeply and tugging at her bandages. Her many cuts stung. Her head throbbed. Moisture welled in her eyes.
If she could just get away …
Far, far away.
She could no longer hear the grunts and thumps and sounds of the fight. Only the thrashing of the foliage as she plowed ahead, the ch-ch-ch sound of those freaky bugs, the croaking of frogs, and her own frantic heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Sarah didn’t know how far she had gone or how long she had been fleeing when her foot unexpectedly met empty air.
Flailing her arms for balance, she lost the battle and tumbled forward as the ground dropped off in front of her. Her hands and knees hit the dirt hard but didn’t stop the momentum that sent her rolling and jouncing down a hill.
The trunks of saplings felt like baseball bats striking her as she went, the thin branches of bushes and weeds like whips. Pain burst through the back of her head just before she skidded to an agonized halt.
Moaning, Sarah rolled onto her back. Flashing lights that had nothing to do with fireflies winked at the edges of her vision. Dizziness assailed her, making her feel as if she were lying on the deck of a ship being tossed about by a violent storm. If she could see her surroundings, no doubt they would be spinning nauseatingly.
Shifting to her side, she braced her aching hands on the cool grass and cautiously sat up.
The throbbing in her head intensified, as did that in her newly bruised ribs. But she couldn’t just sit there. She had to keep moving.
Unable to suppress a groan, Sarah managed to gain her feet with the help of the tree that had ultimately ended her descent.
With the hill behind her, she headed forward, arms extended.
There didn’t seem to be any more trees or shrubs. Just tall weeds or grasses that stroked her knees.
North Carolina was full of rolling meadows and hay fields. She must have wandered into either one or the other.
A branch snapped behind her, somewhere up the hill.
Panic returning with a vengeance, she took off running. Though she had left the shadows of the trees, her surroundings were no brighter, so she couldn’t see a thing.
Blindly racing forward at top speed was nearly as terrifying as knowing that a vampire was pursuing her. Sarah had not experienced this kind of darkness until she had moved to North Carolina. (The sky of a sprawling metropolis like Houston was never completely dark unless a hurricane like Ike took out the power.)
Tripping over some unseen object, she went down hard on her hands, elbows, and knees. Got up. Raced forward, breath coming in gasps that spawned sharp, stabbing pains in the right side of her chest. Fell hard. Got up. Raced forward, tears now streaming down her face. Tripped. Stumbled. Kept going. Tripped. Fell hard.
She almost couldn’t get up this time. Pain and fatigue clawed at her. If only she could see where she was going….
Holding her right side, where one of the saplings had struck her ribs, she took off at a jog, too damned tired to go any faster, and slammed face-first into a tree.
Rebounding off it, she staggered back a step. Strong hands abruptly gripped her upper arms as amber eyes blazed down at her.
It wasn’t a tree.
Screaming, she fought with all of the measly strength she had left.
“Sarah!” a familiar voice called as the hands gently shook her.
She sagged weakly. “Roland?”
“Yes.”
The dizziness returned.
“P-please don’t kill me,” she murmured, then sank into oblivion.
Roland caught Sarah as she fainted. Slipping one arm around her back and the other beneath her knees, he lifted her up and settled her against his chest. Her head lolled and came to rest on his shoulder.
Fiery pain shot through the arm his new nemesis had broken. Because Roland had lost so much blood again, the limb had only healed superficially.
It didn’t matter. Pain he was familiar with. Fear he wasn’t.
And it had definitely been fear that had gripped him when he had seen the lead vampire take off and chase Sarah after she had driven away.
Bastien, he had heard one of the flunky reinforcements call him.
Giving in to impulse, Roland buried his face in Sarah’s tangled, leaf-strewn hair. The pleasant citrus scent was now suppressed by that of the forest mulch she had collected in her flight.
His preternaturally enhanced senses reassured him that her heartbeat, though rapid from sprinting and panic, was strong.
The intense relief he felt was disquieting.
Roland raised his head. She looked like hell. Unlike Sarah, he could see clearly in full darkness and his first glimpse of her had been a shock.
The left half of her face was smeared with blood that oozed from a gash near her hairline. Her clothing was torn in half a dozen places and coated with so much dirt, leaves, and grass that even if he hadn’t seen the path she had cleared on her way down the hill, he would have known she had taken a bad fall.
The bandages he had carefully wrapped around her hands were gone. Her fingers and palms bled from numerous cuts, some of which still had pieces of glass lodged in them. So did her left forearm. Her right forearm and elbow were scraped. Both arms, her chin, and her collarbone sported pink patches that would no doubt morph into ugly bruises over the next few days.
She must have been in agony. Yet she hadn’t given up.
When he had reached the bottom of the hill, Roland had been astounded to see her running blindly across the meadow.
Running. Not walking.
He frowned down at her.
Had she been running from him or from Bastien?
Just as he had hoped, she had wasted no time in leaving after he had tackled the bastard, breaking several of the vamp’s ribs, so she couldn’t have known who the victor would be.
Not that he would call himself the victor. He hadn’t defeated Bastien. Bastien had decided a strategic retreat was in order when it had become clear he wouldn’t win.