Another of their ilk came running from the kitchen, guns blazing. He died quickly, too.
As the sounds of battle rose from below, she sped down a hallway to the room that had contained the last yellow blob from the satellite image and kicked the door open.
The room was a combination home office and library. The sole occupant was roughly six feet tall, blond, and blue-eyed, with a handsome, youthful face and world-weary eyes.
Lisette guessed he was around thirty-five and, after rapidly scanning his thoughts, definitely worth salvaging.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, yanking earbuds blasting metal music out of his ears. When sounds of violence trickled in through the door, he drew a 9mm and pointed it at her. “What the hell is going on?”
Lisette pulled her mask off and drew in a deep breath.
Damned thing made her feel like she was suffocating.
Male appreciation wafted over her. Smiling with a flash of fang, she tucked the mask in her belt. “You might as well put that away,” she advised, nodding at the gun.
His eyes widened and his mouth came dangerously close to falling open. “There are female vampires?”
She chuckled. “Of course there are. But, fortunately for you, I am not a vampire. Otherwise I would have already ripped out your throat.”
He paled. “You’re one of them?”
“Define ‘them,’” she said, strolling toward him across the long, narrow room.
“Immortal Guardians,” he sneered.
She shook her head. “I see you are as confused as your employer. As Bastien will soon learn, we are the good guys.”
“You’re murderers.”
She shrugged. “We only kill those who prey upon the innocent. Vampires, on the other hand, kill anyone who strikes their fancy.”
“That’s not true.” He grabbed some papers off the desk with his free hand and held them up. “Bastien’s vampires only kill pedophiles.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Like the one who murdered your son?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “How do you know about that?”
“The vampires didn’t just kill the men on that list. They killed the men’s wives, sons, daughters, grandchildren, and many others who were either oblivious to those men’s sickness or had been victimized by it themselves.”
“That’s … That can’t be. Bastien wouldn’t allow that.”
“Bastien doesn’t know. That’s why we’re here. We’ve seen the police reports and intend to put a stop to it.”
A masculine throat cleared in her head. I hate to interrupt your little chat, her brother said, but Roland has gone off to kill Bastien, leaving Seth, Marcus, and me to face the fifty-seven vampires spewing forth from the hallways down here. So, if you wouldn’t mind wrapping it up, we could really use some help.
Lisette grinned.
The blond eyed her warily and took a step back. “Why are you smiling?”
“I’m afraid my brother has summoned me. Time’s up.”
Before he could blink, she leapt over the desk, knocked the gun from his grasp, and yanked the computer’s power cord from the wall.
“Relax,” she said as she easily restrained him long enough to bind his hands behind his back. “I’m not going to kill you.” Shoving him into his chair, she yanked the ethernet cord from both the wall and the computer and bound his ankles as well.
“You can’t just leave me like this,” he said somewhat desperately as she tied it off. “If you’re telling the truth, won’t the vampires kill me if they find me like this and Bastien isn’t around to stop them?”
“Don’t worry.” She gave his knee a pat as she rose. “When we’re finished here, there won’t be any vampires left.”
A little faster, please, her brother gritted out.
I’m on my way.
Chapter 17
Roland surged into a square room with cement walls that opened onto a smaller room on the opposite side. Unlike the heart of the basement, which had been furnished like a living room/game room, this chamber boasted only a single tattered armchair. The next room appeared to be empty except for the thick chains and heavy manacles attached to one wall.
Bastien was leaning over Sarah, who was seated in the chair.
Incensed, Roland launched himself at the bastard, knocking him away from her and into the wall beyond.
“Sarah!” he called.
She didn’t answer.
Grabbing Bastien by the neck, he hurled him across the room and into the wall with such force that a crater formed in it.
Roland risked a quick glance at her.
She was slumped in the chair, eyes closed, hair falling forward to conceal much of her face.
“Sarah!”
He glimpsed none of the blood he smelled and didn’t think there was a large quantity of it.
Had Bastien drunk from her? Was that why she wouldn’t rouse? Had Bastien attempted to drain her?
Roland couldn’t see her neck for her hair but feared that was it.
Roaring his fury, he drew his sais.
Don’t kill him, Seth’s voice spoke in his head.
He hurt Sarah. All bets are off.
As a stunned Bastien, who clearly hadn’t expected Roland to negotiate his maze so swiftly, picked himself up off the ground, Roland leapt the distance between them and swung.
Mere inches from Bastien’s neck, the sais rebounded as though they had struck a shield.
I said, don’t kill him, Seth spoke, uncompromising.
Damn you, Roland snarled, arms smarting as he watched Bastien stumble backward and draw two short swords.
Beat him. Bruise him. Maim him if you must. But leave him alive, Roland. This is nonnegotiable.
Bastien swung. Metal clashed.
The younger immortal didn’t have a hope in hell of emerging the victor. Roland was seven hundred years older. Seven hundred years stronger and swifter. For every gash Bastien inflicted, Roland scored four.
And relished every one.
He was relentless, constantly pressing forward, forcing Bastien onto the defensive, keeping his body between his opponent and Sarah at all times.
Dodging one of Bastien’s swings, Roland kicked the sword from his hand, then slashed open Bastien’s forehead and cheek, barely missing his eye. Blood gushed, partially blinding the prick as he brought his other sword up into Roland’s side.
Roland didn’t even flinch, just shoved him back and kept hammering away, cutting and hitting and kicking the crap out of him.
Bastien’s other sword went flying.
Dropping one of his sais, Roland grabbed Bastien by the hair, swung him around, and slammed him face-first into the wall.
Dust and cement slivers erupted outward.
“What did you do to her?” he growled.
When Bastien struggled, Roland drew the immortal’s head back and slammed his face into the wall again.
Cement cracked. Bones snapped. Blood spurted from Bastien’s nose.
“What did you do to her?”
“Fuck you,” Bastien bit out, spitting blood.
Yanking him back, Roland hurled him bodily into the next room. Bastien hit the wall, forming a lightning bolt–shaped crevice in it, then fell to the floor.
Roland crossed to him in an instant, jerking him to his feet. Shoving him back against the wall with a hand clamped around his throat, he pressed the tip of his sai to Bastien’s chest.
Bastien grabbed the hand holding the sai and strained to keep it at bay.
The blade penetrated skin, pressed forward into muscle.
“Every m-minute you fight me,” Bastien choked out, “takes her closer to death.”
Panic piercing him, Roland glanced over his shoulder at Sarah. She was still slumped, unmoving, against the cushions.