Marcus knelt in front of her. Brushing her hands aside, he finished tying the holster for her, then tied the other. When he finished, he leaned his face into her stomach and wrapped his arms around her hips. “I can’t lose you, Ami. I can’t.”
He heard her swallow, and wondered if her throat had as big a lump lodged in it as his did.
Her fingers tunneled through his hair and held him close. “You won’t lose me.” She pressed her lips to the top of his head. “A handful of immortals will be there to protect me.”
“Such has been the case before. Look how that ended.”
She rested her cheek on his hair. “We’ll be fine. Maybe you can kick some ass while we’re there. Won’t you enjoy that?”
He chuckled and shook his head.
She stiffened, then relaxed. “Hi, Richart.”
Marcus sighed. Rising, he turned to face the other immortal. “You’ll take us both at once or you won’t take us at all. I’m not letting Ami out of my sight.”
Richart nodded and held something out to him. “The antidote. Use it like an EpiPen if you’re hit with a dart.”
Marcus nodded and tucked it into one of his many pockets.
“Ready?”
He nodded and wrapped an arm around Ami.
Richart reached forward and touched their shoulders.
Melanie was helping another injured guard down the hallway when Richart, Marcus, and Ami appeared in a corner near the entrance of the escape tunnel.
Ami’s face was pale, but set with determination. After a quick look to take in the damage, she closed her eyes and stood very still.
Beside her, Marcus loomed protectively, weapons in hand, face dark. Melanie thought that if anyone so much as sneezed, Marcus would be on them in an instant.
Melanie helped the wounded man through the jagged hole in the wall and turned back to aid more. It was like a war zone. Explosions frequently rumbled in the distance or rocked the building. A cloud of dust hovered in the hallway, tickling her lungs and leaving her eyes gritty. The network’s headquarters was huge and employed hundreds of men and women from dozens and dozens of occupations. Doctors. Nurses. Accountants. Lawyers. Hackers. Internet monitors. Translators. Actors. Weapons trainers. Martial arts trainers. Electronics geniuses. Cooks. Linguists. Repairmen.
The names of the dead had been dropped by the wounded as they made their way to her and asked for aid. And more were dying. She could tell by the grim expressions on the faces of Cliff, Joe, and Stuart as they rescued those they could.
Marcus’s eyes widened as a blur sped toward them from the elevator shaft. Raising his weapons, he stepped in front of Ami.
Melanie reached over and placed a hand on his arm. “Wait.”
He scowled at her. “Is that—?”
Cliff halted in front of them. An elderly woman, skinny as a rail, was cradled in his arms. Her hair a tangled mess dragged from a formerly neat chignon, she stared at Melanie with round, blue eyes.
“Ma’am? Are you hurt?” Melanie asked.
The woman shook her head. “The ceiling collapsed. I was trapped and couldn’t move until this young man freed me. I told him I could walk, but—”
Cliff lowered the woman to her feet. “I said I could walk faster.”
The woman nodded, her expression slack with amazement. “He could.”
Cliff took a step back, sent Marcus a cautious glance. Then, nodding to Melanie, he took off back toward the elevators.
Melanie guided the older woman through the hole, asked one of the guards forming a relay line in the tunnel to help her, and turned to face Marcus.
Just as she had anticipated, the immortal’s face was full of disapproval.
“They let the vampires out?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, the vampires are helping us. The immortals are fighting the soldiers above ground and are doing their damnedest to keep them from demolishing the whole building. The vampires are working on the inside, taking out the soldiers they encounter and rescuing all of the network employees they can.”
As if on cue, another blurred form shot toward them through the throng. Joe halted, a man draped over his shoulder. The vampire eyed Marcus impassively as he lowered the man’s feet to the floor.
The man straightened, brushed at the dust on his torn suit, and squinted up at Joe. “Thank you.”
Joe turned luminescent blue eyes on Melanie. “He isn’t injured.”
The man shook his head. “I’m fine. A few bruises is all. I just can’t see shit without my glasses.” Eyelids nearly touching, he peered around them. “Where are we?”
“Sublevel 5,” Melanie told him. She motioned to another of the guards in the tunnel. “This man will help you evacuate. Thank you, Joe,” she added with a smile for the vampire.
“Yes,” the man said over his shoulder. “Thank you, Joe.”
Melanie had no idea if the man knew he had been saved by a vampire rather than an immortal.
Joe nodded and raced away.
Marcus muttered something Melanie couldn’t hear over the sounds of war.
Melanie saw a woman with a bad head wound staggering toward her and hurried over to offer what aid she could.
Killing or capturing the mercenaries—the d’Alençons seemed convinced now that they were mercenaries—would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if Bastien didn’t constantly have to dodge bullets fired from the helicopter that hovered above them. He had hoped one of the dumbasses in the Humvees would hurl a grenade at him so he could lob it into the second helo and eliminate it like the first, but no such luck.
Bastien swore when another dart stuck him in the neck. That was the fifth one and, so far, Melanie’s antidote was working splendidly. Bullets peppered his body as he plowed through a cluster of soldiers. Grunting, he swung his blades and savored their screams.
Leaping up onto the Sisu, he slit another soldier’s throat and took possession of the machine gun. Finally. He’d take out the Black Hawk and—
As he aimed the heavy weapon at the chopper, what looked like a huge martial eagle with a ten- or twelve-foot wingspan swooped out of the lightening sky and dove through the helicopter, in one door and out the other. Soldiers, weapons, and ammo tumbled out and fell to the ground.
The helicopter wobbled erratically as the pilots panicked.
The raptor wheeled around and dove straight for the nose of the copter. At the last second the eagle spread its wings and extended its legs forward. Its talons drove through the front windows, shattering glass and bending metal, and clutched the two pilots.
The engine whined as the helicopter began to spin. Deftly avoiding the blades, the eagle yanked the pilots through the shattered windows and dropped them like stones.
What. The. Hell.
Bastien barely noticed the helicopter crash and burn. His gaze followed the eagle as it swooped down and ducked into the forest.
Bullets struck Bastien.
Swearing, he turned the machine gun on the soldiers firing at him. When that bunch had fallen, he looked back at the forest, searching for the raptor.
David stepped from the trees.
Shit. David could shape-shift? Nobody had told him immortals could shape-shift.
The elder immortal was garbed all in black. As he strode into the melee, his long dreadlocks wove themselves into a braid and knotted at the base. His eyes flashed bright amber. He reached over his head and drew two drool-worthy Masamune swords.
I know Ami is here.
A chill accompanied that deep voice in Bastien’s head.