Aegis had never been sure of the Orloks’ nature or origins; it was believed they were directly connected to Erebus and Nightsiders because they were, essentially, creatures of night that lived on blood—thus the name “Orlok,” taken from the old tale of the grotesque vampire Nosferatu.
That was exactly what this creature—this man—appeared to be.
“Michael,” she whispered.
The thing who had once been her partner swung its head from side to side, advancing on her slowly. She continued to retreat, unwilling to shoot even to wound.
But the Orlok didn’t attack. It— he—stopped several meters away, still swaying, and opened its mouth. Sounds came out, sounds almost like words.
He was trying to talk.
Alexia’s heart wedged in her throat. “Michael,” she breathed. “Do you know who I am?”
His head bent ever so slightly. A nod. A moan of pain and sorrow. He moved closer, a purpose in his eyes she couldn’t mistake.
“You don’t want to hurt me, Michael,” she said, speaking low and steadily as if she were quieting a cornered animal. “We were... are friends. We’ve risked our lives for each other.” She lowered her rifle farther and held out one hand. “I want to help you.”
The creature’s mouth twisted in something like the old grin. He continued to advance, and Alexia braced herself. If it came down to killing or being killed, she knew which one she had to choose.
But Michael stopped again, just within reach, and lifted his fisted hand. He opened his long, distorted fingers and showed her what he held within them.
At first she didn’t know what it was. The device was about the size of a large earpiece, but almost featureless. When Michael held it closer to her face, she recognized the tiny mic.
A communicator, but nothing like the one she carried, or like any she’d seen before.
Was it some new model Aegis had devised? And why had her partner been carrying it?
Electronics seldom functioned well in the Zone, and she’d known nothing about it.
With a grunt, Michael seized her wrist with his free hand and dropped the device into her palm. His touch sent shudders of revulsion through her body, but she didn’t break away, and after a moment Michael retreated. He gestured at the communicator, his mouth working.
Coming.
Alexia jerked. Michael hadn’t spoken. The word had appeared inside her head. She stared at his contorted face, wondering if she were beginning to hallucinate.
Signal, the voice in her mind said. Attack.
Pressing the heel of her palm to her temple, Alexia tried to force the voice out through sheer strength of will. But Michael—what had been Michael—was still there, half civilized, half savage. And sinking quickly.
Warn, the voice said. War.
Warn whom, about what? What signal, and what attack? Was he asking her to send a signal to Aegis with this device? Was he telling her that war was coming?
There was no way to know, because all at once the voice went silent, and Michael shuddered again. It almost seemed to Alexia that his body was changing before her eyes, bending, writhing, slowly losing the last vestiges of humanity. She tried to approach him, but he backed away, shaking his head from side to side like a dog with a burr in its ear.
Then, without warning, he loped off into the night-shrouded wood.
Alexia pushed the communicator inside her jacket and ran after him. She knew in her heart she couldn’t save him, but she couldn’t let him go down alone.
She was so intent on finding him that she nearly tripped over the man on the ground before she realized he was there.
Damon, she thought, wild with fear.
But it wasn’t Damon, nor Michael. Her nostrils filled with the scent of Nightsider, and she stumbled back, pulling her rifle from her shoulder.
The Nightsider moved slightly, his pale, unbound hair fanned across the ground, his ascetic face drawn in pain. He didn’t seem to be armed, and he was clearly injured; she knew Michael might have attacked him, but there were only a few tiny spots of blood on his clothing.
Then she recognized what was wrong with him. He had been in the sun. Blisters disfigured what would have been handsome features, and his once-dark eyes were milky with cataracts.
“Get up,” she said, gesturing with the rifle.
The Nightsider’s blind eyes turned toward her. “I am...not your enemy,” he rasped.
Of course not. And he hadn’t been roasted alive.
Alexia glanced past him in the direction Michael had gone. She could either continue to follow him or deal with the Nightsider. The vampire at her feet might easily have been among those who had shot at her and Damon, the one Michael had been tracking, or both. He was dangerous, even in his weakened state, and leaving him here could lead to serious consequences later.
“Where did you come from?” she demanded.
The Nightsider lay very still, well aware of what she would do if he tried to rise. “I am not what you think,” he said, his voice a mere thread of sound. “I want what you want.”
“Where are you from?” she repeated, lowering the rifle’s muzzle to poke at his chest.
“The colony? Are you one of the ones who have been trying to kill us?”
He blinked several times, as if even the emerging stars gave off too much light.
“Where...is Damon?”
Alexia wouldn’t have believed it possible that her heart could beat any faster. “Why?”
she asked sharply. “You aren’t going to be able to hurt him now.”
“The colony is not what we believed. I was to...report back, but I am dying. The others want to...” He took in a sharp breath. “They want to destroy it.”
“Destroy the colony?” she asked. “Who wants to destroy it?”
“Our enemies, of course,” someone said behind her.
Chapter 10
Alexia swung around, bringing the rifle to bear on the new arrival. He grinned, a flash of bright teeth in a pale, handsome face. His hair was drawn back in the traditional Nightsider style, framing his features like a crown of snow and starlight.
“Put down your weapon,” he said. “I mean you no harm.”
“Don’t...trust him,” the first vampire warned. “It is their doing. Tell Damon...the colony, the drugs—” He cried out as the blast hit him square in the chest, leaving a smoking hole where his heart had been. The second Nightsider holstered his weapon and shook his head.
“Traitors to the Council must be eliminated,” he said. He regarded Alexia with great interest. “Why are you alone, little Half-blood? The Zone is a dangerous place. Where is Damon?”
Alexia didn’t answer. She had been stunned by the sudden killing, but her thoughts were clearing rapidly. And once she could think again, she was extremely grateful that Damon wasn’t with her.
For whoever this leech was, he exuded a threat that utterly belied his words. It wasn’t just that he’d murdered the other vampire so callously. Nightsiders often killed each other; they were vicious, amoral creatures, predators without compassion, constantly maneuvering for rank and power.
But now two Nightsiders had appeared in the area very soon after someone had tried to kill her and Damon. That couldn’t be coincidence, and both of them obviously knew she and Damon were working together.
This vampire clearly meant to imply that he was with the Council, at least nominally on Damon’s side of the fence. Damon had admitted there were probably other Council agents in the area; maybe one of the two Nightsiders, the living or the dead, was working for the same faction he was.