Night Fall: Truly, Madly... Deadly Part 9

Dressed in black, they'd taken up positions behind the concrete block wall that enclosed the property on the beach side. The incoming tide lapped just feet away, and the smell of rain was in the air. Light poured from the windows. Music blared within, creating the atmosphere of a party in full flourish.

Hunkered down next to the gate, Quentin whispered, "Be sure to keep back the rest of the unit until I give the signal. They stink of gun oil. I can smell it from here."

"We're going in with you," Darcy said.

"No, you're not," he replied, each word bulleted.

"Look, I know you've got a bug up your a.s.s about the sleeping arrangements," Joe said, "but Darcy and I were a.s.signed as your shadows."

"Darcy's made it abundantly clear who's in and who's out," Quentin said between gritted teeth. "We aren't a team."

"Fine." Darcy laid a hand on Joe's arm to hold him in place. "You go right on ahead, Quentin. We'll try not to get in your way."

"You're staying put."

She smiled, her teeth a white slash in the moonlight. "Of course. I always do what I'm told."

"d.a.m.n stubborn wench," he muttered.

"Pompous, arrogant a.s.shole," she replied, still smiling.

Quentin grimaced. "Darcy, keep clear of Nicky." If Nicky knew what the girl meant to him...

"Time's a-wasting," Joe whispered then lowered the microphone on his headset to his mouth. "We're going in."

Quentin pushed open the gate and skirted the wall on the inside, keeping to the shadows and using the foliage of the palms and bougainvillea to hide behind as he crept along. Not that vampires couldn't see into the darkness.

French doors opened with a spill of light onto a slate tile patio. A lone figure stepped outside and lit a cigarette. The flare of the lighter illuminated the face of the vampire they'd come to kill.

The hair on the back of Quentin's neck rose. This was too easy.

"You may as well quit skulking in the bushes, Father. I see you received my message," Nicholas Powell said.

Quentin heard Darcy's gasp. Knowing he'd just dropped another notch in Darcy's estimation, he straightened and approached the monster he'd created.

Darcy glanced at Joe. His face had hardened to stone.

It couldn't be. Quentin couldn't be responsible for creating this evil vampire. But she didn't have time to consider the implications. They'd been made. She rose from her crouch and surveyed the courtyard. Her gaze lifted to the balcony above.

Two vampires trained automatic weapons on her and Joe. The gun oil Quentin's keen sense of smell had detected hadn't come from the SU team. Then the thought came unbidden-had Quentin set them up for a slaughter?

"I'm flattered, Quentin," Nicky Powell said. "You've come all this way to see me. You and your friends must come inside." The statement wasn't an invitation. With an indolent wave of his hand, Nicky signaled to more vamps, who spilled out the doorway. "After you. But first, drop your weapons."

Quentin raised the stake in his hand, and then laid it at his feet.

Joe and Darcy lowered their crossbows. Every bit of her willpower was summoned to abandon her weapon.

Not glancing behind him to see whether they followed, Quentin stepped through the doorway.

"Don't be shy," Nicky said. "Come inside and join the party."

Darcy stepped onto the tile patio. As she drew abreast of Nicky, he held out his hand.

"I'll take your headsets."

Inside the house, it became immediately apparent a trap had been set. There wasn't a human in sight, just five more vampires wearing unholy grins on their distorted faces.

"So, what do you think of my humble abode?"

Darcy had just met the dark-haired vampire, but his voice, low and sardonic, already grated on every last one of her nerves. She glanced about, checking for exits and items that could be used as weapons if her last resort was taken from her. Slate tile covered the floor, and unless the beige leather sofas could be used to batter a vamp to the ground, only the gla.s.s and chrome tables offered any possibilities.

Quentin stood in the center of the living room, and had yet to look her way. But, his stiff posture and neutral expression rea.s.sured her that at least he was as much a victim as she.

"So, what do we have here? GI Joe and Jane?" Nicky circled them. He halted in front of Darcy and looked her up and down, his dark eyes smoldering.

Leanly built and muscular, the man was fit, and Darcy didn't doubt Nicky would prove difficult to best one-on-one. She glared, hands clenching at her sides.

"Is she your woman?" Nicky turned to Quentin, one eyebrow raised.

Quentin remained silent.

"Hardly seems your type. She's rather plain. And without curves to feast on," he said, his voice silky. "Rather like taking a boy. Do you like boys, Quentin?"

Quentin snorted. "Just for breakfast." He nodded to the vamps circling the perimeter of the room. "Seems your appet.i.tes are decidedly male these days."

"I learn from my mistakes. Women are strictly for nourishment." He walked behind her and trailed his fingers down her throat. "They make lousy soldiers."

Darcy forced herself to remain still, although she knew her escalating heart rate betrayed her alarm. Her gaze sought Quentin's, but his stare remained on Nicky.

"Monica was a little unstable," Quentin replied.

"Fancied herself in love with me, can you imagine? How are our friends Dylan and Emmy, by the way?"

Quentin shrugged. "I haven't heard from them."

"I must give them my regards when I see them next. I didn't have the chance before I left Seattle." He shrugged. "I was rather rushed."

Darcy wondered how long the glib conversation would last. At this point, she couldn't have gotten a word past her lips.

Nicky's fingers continued to trace her neck and jaw.

She swallowed.

"So, when will the rest of the team arrive?" Nicky asked so casually, a moment pa.s.sed before the words registered.

She stiffened and feared her reaction had given away something important.

A little smile curved the corners of Quentin's lips. The smirk she'd come to love.

From the front of the house, a short, staccato burst of gunfire sounded.

Quentin's gaze s.h.i.+fted to Darcy, and he lifted his chin.

Darcy took it as a signal to act. She grasped Nicky's finger and bit.

"b.i.t.c.h!" He punched her in the back, over the kidneys.

Despite the Kevlar jacket she wore, Darcy nearly pa.s.sed out. But, she didn't let go of his finger.

In a blur of motion, Quentin leapt toward them.

Darcy opened her mouth, releasing Nicky and rolling away. The sound of breaking gla.s.s and wood came from behind her, but Darcy continued to roll until she reached the back of one of the sofas.

When she made it to her feet, she saw Quentin and Nicky were out of sight, although the sounds of their scuffle could be heard from the patio. She reached for the 9mm handgun strapped beneath her vest at the small of her back-and for the stake inside her boot. A gun might not kill a vampire, but a head-shot could incapacitate one long enough to stake it.

Gunfire continued to explode, so near the sound was deafening. To her right, one of Nicky's minions inside the room had an AK-47 trained on a sofa Joe must have hidden behind. When Darcy looked to her left, she found herself staring down the barrel of a Glock.

The vamp holding the weapon wore a gleeful expression. "Question is, should I shoot you first, and then suck your blood?"

Darcy held up her hands, her weapon pointing toward the ceiling. "Question is, do you have the safety off?"

The youth's gaze dropped to his gun.

Darcy fired a round through his forehead, and then staked him before he hit the floor. "The safety's in the trigger, stupid."

No time to gloat, she headed for an unarmed vamp, fired off a shot, and staked him. Another saw her coming and ran for the front door. Knowing the SU would catch him before he made it to the road, she turned to help Joe.

She saw his hand rise over the back of the sofa and fire several rounds toward the vamp who had taken cover behind the jutting edge of the fireplace.

The vamp raised his machine gun and took aim.

Before he got off a round, Darcy hit him in the temple.

He dropped his weapon and cradled his head. "You f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h!" he screamed.

Darcy leapt for him, kicked away the machine gun, and raised the stake. But the wooden tip was blunted from the previous kills, and was stopped by bone at his sternum.

The vamp roared and quickly overpowered her, pus.h.i.+ng her to the floor.

Unable to do anything except stare in horrified fascination, Darcy watched his mouth, with its jagged row of teeth, descend.

Suddenly, the vamp screamed and crumbled into dust.

Quentin leaned over her, his stake still poised. He lowered it and offered his other hand to help her to her feet.

She pushed the pile of dusty clothing from her body to the floor. "Thanks. Is that it?"

"That's everybody inside, and the team's taking care of the strays on the grounds. But Darcy, Nicky got away."

Darcy felt ill. A niggling sense of doubt rose. Did Quentin deliberately allow him to escape? "At least, he's lost his minions." She looked around the living room that was pretty well trashed. Bullets had ripped through the furniture and the walls, in some places leaving gaping holes so large a fist could fit inside. Thank G.o.d, she and Joe had escaped being hit.

Joe? Her heart went still, and a cold dread settled over her. She hadn't seen him since he'd battled it out with the vamp with the machine gun. She hadn't heard his voice.

She approached the sofa where Joe had taken cover. Before she rounded the corner, she saw a crimson pool of liquid spreading wider by the moment across the blue-gray tile. Her stomach dropped to her toes. "No, no, no."

Joe lay on his side, his 9mm still grasped in his hand, his face ashen.

She knelt in his blood and felt for a pulse at the side of his neck. It was weak and slow. Her hands moved over him, looking for the wound. The blood appeared to seep from beneath his Kevlar jacket, and she opened it, dreading what she would find.

The bullet had entered the top of his shoulder, making a rather small, innocuous-looking hole. She reached inside the jacket, smoothing her hands around his back, and found the exit wound. It was large and gaping. Joe wasn't going to make it, but she had to try. "Joe, you hold on. Don't you die on me. Quentin, help me get off this jacket. I have to stop the bleeding."

Quentin's hand stopped hers as she began stripping away the vest. "Darcy, he's lost more than fifty percent of his blood. He's going to die."

She sought his gaze, her own pleading with him to help. "I have to try. Please, help me." She didn't realize she was crying until his fingers smoothed the tears on her cheeks.

"Sweetheart, no amount of modern medicine can save him. I might be able to turn him, though. It's not too late to try."

She shook her head, not understanding what he was saying.

"I can make him a vampire."

"No!" The word wrenched from her gut.

His expression remained neutral, his tone soft. "His internal organs are shutting down, one after the other. He will die."

She leaned over Joe and cupped his face. "Joe, wake up. You have to tell me what you want. Please, wake up."

"Darcy, he won't answer you. He can't. You have to choose."

The moments were ticking by, and she could feel Joe's life slipping away. She raised her face to Quentin. "Do it," she said, a quaver in her voice. "Save him, please."

Quentin knelt and gathered Joe's upper body off the ground to hold him in his arms. "I have to take more blood-to the point of his death. Go stand at the door. Make sure no one interrupts."

She didn't want to leave. She wasn't sure she trusted him enough to leave Joe's fate in his hands.

"Go!" He gave her one last hard stare, and then lowered his mouth to Joe's neck.

Darcy rose and went to the doorway that led to the patio. She glanced back at Quentin, praying she'd made the right choice for Joe.

Stepping outside, she realized the storm brewing all day had broken. Rain fell in fat drops, soaking her uniform in moments. She welcomed the moisture and raised her face to let the drops mingle with her tears. Will he forgive me? As close as they had been-as partners and lovers-she knew he held a deep and abiding hatred for vampires. Yet, she had just given Quentin permission to make him into something he believed abhorrent and unnatural. She'd made him into one of the monsters he'd sworn to fight. If he survived the change.

Darcy heard the sounds of her team members as they combed the yard for weapons and vamps. Since stealth was no longer employed, she knew the vamps had been vanquished.

Max stepped inside the garden gate. "Da.r.s.e, is the house secure?"

"Yeah." She had to fight to speak the single word.

"You okay?"