“Why didn’t Seth just pop them over there?”
“You mean teleport them?”
She nodded.
“He can only teleport to places he’s already been. Unless you’re talking to him on the phone. Then he can find you by following the cell signal or zoning in on your brain waves. I can never decide which and keep forgetting to ask.”
Sarah almost smiled. “How can you be so … relaxed about all of this?” He didn’t look at all concerned.
“One: I’ve been at this long enough to have seen them in action and know that they’re extremely good at what they do. And two: I’m not in love with any of them.”
Glancing through one of the northern windows as she passed, she saw the back of one of Chris’s heavily armed men. “Is it that obvious?”
“As obvious as his love for you is.”
Another window. Another guard.
“I’m going to have my blood tested to see if I can be transformed.” She wasn’t sure why she told him. Perhaps to test his reaction since, according to Roland, no gifted one had ever willingly been transformed.
Nietzsche rolled over onto his back and struck a cute pose as she approached again, offering his tummy up for a rub.
Sarah obediently stroked his soft fur, smiling faintly when he rumbled with purrs of satisfaction. Once he had gotten used to her being around, Nietzsche had begun to come to her for treats and caresses almost as often as he did to Roland.
When Chris failed to reply to her announcement, she glanced up and found him turned around on the sofa, watching her over its back, his expression inscrutable.
“You think there’s no chance, don’t you?” Giving the cat a last stroke, she recommenced circumnavigating the big room. “Roland does, too.”
“It isn’t impossible,” he said slowly, swiveling around as he followed her progress, “just improbable.”
And she had thought the day couldn’t get any grimmer.
“Roland told me gifted ones always have black hair and brown eyes, no matter their race. I have neither.”
“Actually, there’s a gifted one in DC who has brown hair.”
Stopping short, Sarah stared at him. “What?”
Chris nodded. “She came to my attention … about six years ago when her college roommate was murdered in their dorm room.”
“She’s a gifted one?You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. It caused quite a stir when the police ran her DNA. I had to call Seth in to wipe a hell of a lot of memories and to explain things to her.”
“And she had brown hair?” Her heart began to thud in her chest.
“Just a bit darker than yours.”
“Why doesn’t Roland know about this?” He would have told her if he did.
Chris rolled his eyes. “Roland avoids all of us like the plague and this didn’t make it onto the Immortal Guardian’s website. Not very many people know.”
Which would explain why Marcus hadn’t said anything either when he had realized Roland was falling for her.
“Does the woman have any special gifts?”
He nodded. “She has minor psychic abilities. Knows someone is going to call before the phone rings or that she’s going to receive a package before the postman arrives. That sort of thing. Not enough to enable her to pick the Lotto numbers, but enough for her to notice.”
And there came reality, crashing back down again.
She sighed. “My eyes aren’t brown and I have no gifts.”
His look turned sympathetic. “Hazel is close to brown. And maybe you simply have a gift that’s mild enough you haven’t noticed it yet.”
It was nice of him to try. “Thanks, Chris, but—” She broke off, her gaze drawn beyond him to the corner as Nietzsche suddenly flipped onto all fours and looked toward the hallway.
Sarah followed his gaze and saw nothing. The hallway was empty, the doorways leading to the library, bedrooms, and basement all open and equally bereft.
“What is it?” Chris asked, sitting up straighter.
“Nothing, I think.”
Nietzsche dropped into a crouch, belly practically touching the cushion, ears laid back, and hissed.
An icy tingle of fear swept down Sarah’s spine.
What the hell?
A blur of motion burst from the hallway and rocketed toward the sofa. Blood sprayed from Chris’s mouth and nose as his head slammed back. Then he fell sideways, unconscious, onto the cushions.
As the blurry form looming over him stilled, it solidified into a man and turned to face her.
Oh shit. Bastien.
A heavy weight struck her in the stomach as he tossed her over his shoulder.
She hadn’t even seen him move!
The room blurred. Her stomach lurched.
Sarah struggled to get her bearings as the light suddenly dimmed and cooler air buffeted her.
Were they down in one of the tunnels?
How had he known about the tunnels?
Heart racing, hands shaking, she reached under her shirt, withdrew the Glock he must not have noticed in his hurry, aimed at the dark blurs she assumed were his legs and fired twice.
The tunnel abruptly swam into focus as his momentum stalled and blood spurted from both of his hamstrings.
Bastien stumbled and went down.
Sarah went down with him. Her back hit the ground first and knocked the breath from her. Her head ricocheting off the hard-packed dirt, she slid several yards, then skidded to a halt. Dust rose up around her, choking her, making her cough. She groaned as her head began to throb.
Rolling to her side, Sarah fought to breathe and ignored the bright sparkles that danced through her vision. Sluggishly, she dragged herself to her feet and glanced around.
The tunnel they were in, like all the others, was dimly lit with low-wattage bulbs activated by motion sensors. She couldn’t see the exit, so this must be one of the longer tunnels.
Bastien rose up between her and the entrance, one hand clamped to the back of his right thigh.
Sarah looked around frantically for the Glock she had dropped upon impact. Spotting it a couple of feet in front of her to the right, she dove for it.
Bastien snatched it away before she was even halfway there.
As Sarah jumped back, he turned and hurled it all the way to the entrance. His eyes, when he turned to face her, glowed amber with rage.
“Apparently your immortal friends didn’t bother to tell you that shooting vampires doesn’t kill us.” His lips pulled back from sharp fangs, igniting fear within her. “It only pisses us off!”
She screamed when he raced toward her, expecting him to rip out her throat in retribution.
His shoulder hit her stomach and lifted. The tunnel blurred. Cool wind whipped her as she dangled upside down again. Blood rushed to her head, increasing the pounding in it.
The bullet wounds weren’t even slowing him.
Fear made Sarah’s pulse drum loudly in her ears. She couldn’t let him take her. He’d kill her if he did or—worse—use her to kill Roland.
Her breath coming in panicked gasps, she reached into one of the few pockets still accessible in this position and withdrew a throwing knife. Grasping the wooden handle tightly, she held her breath, drew her arm back, then thrust it down as hard as she could.
Bastien cried out and jerked to a halt.
Sarah kept going, flying forward for a long weightless moment until she slammed into a wall. She heard a loud crack as she hit hard dirt or stone. Pain spiked through her head. Landing in a heap on the floor, she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.
Dizziness assailed her. Nausea rose.
When she opened her eyes, they refused to focus.
Drawing her knees up under her, she braced a trembling hand against the wall and struggled to rise.
Bastien was an obscure blur a few yards away, though she thought he was standing still.
“You stabbed me in the ass?” he roared.