Watchers in the Night

  “Ever heard of the pot calling the kettle black?” Carolyn expected her snide question to irritate him, but he merely shrugged.

  “One might question who is the pot and who is the kettle. Tell me, what else have you learned about me, other than my name?”

  Carolyn hesitated only a moment before speaking. He was more likely to be appeased with partial truths than stubborn silence. “You disappeared in 1899 and were declared dead in 1902. You were a very wealthy man, and you liked to collect Impressionist paintings.”

  He shook his head, a rueful smile on his lips. “You found me through Origins, didn’t you?”

  Carolyn blinked in surprise. “How did you know?”

  “Over the years, I’ve attempted to regain possession of some of my favorite works.” His eyes drifted to a lovely watercolor of a field of lilies that hung above the mantel. “Imagine my surprise when I bought one from a collector and he proudly announced it was from the collection of Archibald Montgomery! I asked him where he’d learned that interesting tidbit, and he told me. Now, tell me what else you’ve learned.”

  His penetrating stare told her he believed she knew more than she was telling. Did older vampires have any psychic abilities? She suppressed a shudder. The only fact she truly had to hide was that Hannah was right now actively looking for this house—assuming, of course, it really was one of his original properties, but his quest to buy his favorite paintings back added credence to the possibility. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’ve learned that Deirdre’s story about how you just want to make Philly safe for vampires is bullshit.”

  “Oh?” he said, a hard glitter in his eyes. “How did you learn that?”

  “Because I told Jules your name. He said you were a Guardian once and had a falling out with Eli.”

  Montgomery looked sharply at Deirdre. “I thought you said no one knew about that!”

  She patted his arm reassuringly. “I didn’t know anyone did. But once I started planting suggestions that a Guardian had gone bad, I suppose it’s not surprising the subject came up. It doesn’t matter, really. So Eli knows you’re back. So what? It’s too late to mend the rifts now. Half the Guardians won’t even answer the phone when he calls anymore.”

  Carolyn shook her head at Montgomery. “How could you go from being a Guardian to being a psychotic murderer?”

  “I got out from under Eli’s influence is how. He did me a favor when he kicked me out. If I’d stayed with the Guardians, I’d probably still buy into all his holier-than-thou, suppress-the-beast-within nonsense.” He sneered. “He’s not the saint he pretends to be, anyway.”

  Disgusted, Carolyn turned to Deirdre. “So, what’s your excuse?”

  Deirdre smiled sweetly. “Oh, I was never a Guardian, not really. We figured the best way to take Eli down was to get someone on the inside. So I took up residence with another of Archer’s fledglings and we lured the Guardians to our door.” She sighed and put a mock-sorrowful expression on her face. “The poor fledgling thought we were setting a trap for the Guardians, and Archer was going to kill them. But the Guardians killed him instead.”

  “And took a Trojan horse into their midst,” Carolyn finished for her.

  “Precisely,” Deirdre said with a brisk nod.

  “And now,” Montgomery said, “while I have greatly enjoyed our little chat, I think it’s time for Deirdre and me to reap the rewards of our labors.” His smile was pure evil as his eyes swept over Carolyn once more. “You won’t mind if I amuse myself with the mortal woman before Gray kills her, do you my dear?” he asked Deirdre.

  Her smile was just as vicious and just as chilling. “Not at all, Archer darling. As long as you don’t mind if I amuse myself with Gray. I’ve always let him resist my glamour in the past. I look forward to showing him what I’m capable of.”

  Carolyn was on the verge of panic when the doorbell rang. She started to turn toward the door, a scream rising in her throat as she hoped against hope that help might be on the way. But the sound died before it escaped, and her mind descended into what was becoming a familiar darkness.

  JULES SMILED HIS MOST charming smile when Deirdre opened the door. Was it his imagination, or was there a hint of worry in her eyes? She returned his smile easily enough, brushing her hair away from her face in a coquettish gesture.

  “Jules!” she cried. “What a pleasant surprise. Please come in.”

  He stepped past her into her house, his mind searching for the other two vampires. His eyes flicked to a closed door against one wall, a door with a deadbolt lock on it. Behind that door, he sensed two vampires lurking. He hoped like hell one of them was Gray, not a third accomplice he didn’t know about. As casually as possible, he strolled into the living room and made himself comfortable on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. Deirdre joined him, her face a mask of polite inquiry.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  He let out a slow sigh while his senses reached out a little further, searching for a sign that Drake and Michael were inside. He could sense them, above him and to his left, but the tingle was faint and he knew they weren’t inside yet. A faint scraping sound sent a bolt of adrenaline through him, but Deirdre didn’t seem to have heard it.

  “I’m … wondering what you think of the note Gray left at the latest murder scene.” It seemed like the most likely topic of conversation, for it wasn’t the first time he’d discussed his distrust of Gray with Deirdre. “I keep feeling like …”

  Dee raised an eyebrow. “Yes? Like what?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know. Like it wasn’t him, maybe?”

  If he hadn’t been looking for it, he was sure he would have missed the flicker of fear that passed briefly over Dee’s face. Careful, Jules. Don’t go too close to the truth.

  “What makes you say that?” she asked, leaning forward on the couch ever so slightly.

  “It just seems so blatant. He’s been denying it so long, I don’t understand why he’d suddenly announce to the world that he’s a Killer.” He heard a couple of faint tapping sounds upstairs. Still, Dee didn’t seem to hear anything, though her eyes looked more troubled than ever.

  “Well, Jules, he does rather dislike you, you know. Perhaps he decided to come out of the closet—so to speak—so he could rub your nose in it. After all, you knew where he was and you didn’t bring him in.”

  “True,” he conceded. “But—”

  From upstairs came the sound of shattering glass, followed by a heavy thud.

  There was no time to think, only to act. As Deirdre rose to her feet with a cry of alarm, Jules charged her.

  GRAY CAME TO WITH a start. The first thing he noticed was a shadowed shape charging out the door at the top of the stairs. The second thing he noticed was that he was standing with his weight split between two steps somewhere around the middle of the staircase. Unfortunately, the third thing he noticed was that his head was spinning. He put out a hand to steady himself against the wall, but he missed and his weight tipped backward.

  Flailing for balance, he teetered for a second, then fell, his back smacking the wooden steps before he rolled head over heels. He plowed into something warm and soft, and heard Carolyn’s cry of distress. Then she, too, went down, and they landed together at the base of the steps in a tangle of limbs.

  “Gray!” Carolyn cried. “Are you all right?”

  He disentangled himself as best he could. His back screamed where he’d hit the stairs, but he could bear the pain, and even bone-deep bruises would heal in minutes. “I’m fine,” he said. He spared her a quick glance, assuring himself that she, too, was all right. “Stay here!” He bolted up the stairs, heading toward the sound of combat.

  When he burst through the basement door, Gray had to stop a moment to make sense of the melee.

  Drake and Jules were both struggling with Montgomery, who was roaring like some kind of medieval warrior. Standing slightly apart from them, Deirdre was staring into the eyes of another man Gray didn’t know. The man’s
jaw had gone slack, his eyes glazed over. Deirdre grabbed his arms and drew him roughly to her, sinking her fangs into his throat.

  Lowering his shoulder, Gray barreled into her, hoping he wasn’t too late. She gave a squeak of surprise, losing her grip on her victim’s throat. The three of them collapsed to the floor together. Gray wrapped his arms around Dee and tore her away from the wounded man, whose eyes were still glazed despite his wound. Blood poured from his throat and pooled on the floor, soaking into the carpet. The scent filled the air, and Gray’s fangs descended in instant reaction to it as the hunger stirred.

  Deirdre turned in his arms and pressed her bloody mouth to his. He shoved her away violently, using his sleeve to wipe the blood off his lips before even the smallest drop touched his tongue. She laughed at him, her eyes glowing with manic delight.

  Behind him, he heard Jules cursing, but he dared not ignore Deirdre, who was even now rising to her feet. He averted his eyes, though he already knew her glamour was strong enough to overpower him even if he wasn’t meeting her eyes. The man she had wounded groaned feebly. The river of blood that had flowed from his throat slowed to a trickle. So, he wasn’t a man, exactly, but another Guardian, healing at supernatural speed. Still, Gray didn’t think he’d be strong enough to rejoin the fray anytime soon.

  Amidst all the shouting and cursing, Gray heard another sound, the frantic pounding of a fist on the door. But he didn’t have time to ponder that puzzle, for Deirdre was upon him again, her hands wrapping around his throat and squeezing.

  The Guardian’s blood still coated her lips and chin as she bent over him, pinning him easily despite her diminutive size. He struggled, but she was far too strong, his own strength no match for that of a Killer. She grinned down at him, her hands at his throat squeezing just tight enough to cut off most of his oxygen supply while not crushing his windpipe. She couldn’t kill him this way, but she could sap his strength and make him damned uncomfortable. He clawed at her hands and labored to suck in tiny gasps of air. She let him breathe just enough so the scent of blood filled his nostrils, and within him the beast stirred.

  “Give in to it, Gray,” Deirdre coaxed, breathing the smell of blood over his face. “Help us. You know you want to. It would be so much easier.” She was leaning down again, bringing the tantalizing scent of blood closer.

  She was right—it would be so easy to give in. All he had to do was put his humanity aside and let himself do what he wished to do with every fiber of his being. Spots began to dance before his eyes as the lack of oxygen played tricks with his brain. His hands fell away from hers, for he was too weak to keep fighting. The room seemed to be spinning around him, the floor bucking around under him. She wasn’t letting any air into his lungs anymore, and her hands squeezed ever harder, until he feared his neck might soon break under the pressure.

  The sound of Jules’s curses suddenly grew louder. Then Deirdre’s hands ripped away from Gray’s throat, her nails leaving painful, burning trails in his skin. He gasped desperately for breath and lay still, the world still spinning around him.

  Beside him, Jules and Deirdre rolled on the floor, locked together in mortal combat. Jules’s eyes were squeezed closed against her glamour, but he didn’t appear to be having much success against her. She was snarling and snapping, and when Jules tried to pin her, she merely flung him off.

  A few feet away, Montgomery had gained the upper hand against Drake, now that Jules was otherwise occupied. Montgomery pinned Drake against the wall and now bared his teeth in an obvious preparation to bite. Gray tried to rise, some vague idea of charging to the rescue flitting through his mind, but his oxygen-starved limbs weren’t up to obeying him yet.

  Suddenly, the cursing and grunting and banging were drowned out by a deafening roar, and everyone went momentarily still.

  Gray blinked away the black spots in his vision and saw Montgomery crumple to the ground. Drake nearly fell with him, but managed to keep his feet. Blood spattered Drake’s face, and he turned his head slowly to the left, his eyes wide.

  Gray followed Drake’s gaze and saw Hannah standing in the foyer, her gun still trained on the Banger’s inert body. Behind her, Carolyn pushed the front door closed.

  An ear-piercing shriek rent the air, as Deirdre leapt away from Jules and flew toward Hannah, fangs bared in fury. Hannah started to turn the gun toward her attacker, but would never have made it in time. Fortunately, Drake managed to throw himself in front of Hannah just in time to intercept Deirdre.

  The struggle that ensued was surprisingly brief. Either Drake was just too powerful for Dee, or Dee was too maddened with rage and grief from losing her mentor. Either way, they closed for maybe ten seconds before she stiffened and the life disappeared from her eyes.

  Drake withdrew a long, bloody knife from the center of her chest, then lowered her gently to the floor. Silence reigned as everyone took in the carnage. Carolyn moved toward Hannah and plucked the gun from her hands.

  “This is mine, I presume?” she asked. Hannah’s eyes were wide and frightened-looking as she nodded. She shivered and looked at Montgomery’s body. Blood seeped from a gaping wound on his temple.

  “Beginner’s luck, I guess,” she said, but her shaking voice belied her bravado.

  Drake and Jules shared a significant look, then Jules folded his arms over his chest and glared at Hannah.

  “I thought we had an understanding that you would remain at the hotel!” he growled.

  Hannah grinned, but it was a feeble expression. “I saw no reason to disabuse you of that notion.”

  Drake chuckled quietly, earning him a pair of matching glares from Jules and Hannah.

  Across the distance that separated them, Gray met Carolyn’s eyes. And didn’t like what he saw there. Didn’t like the hint of softness, and of longing.

  The Banger was dead. Carolyn was safe, and there was no longer any reason for him to remain a part of her life. The problem was, he feared she wasn’t ready to let him go. And she had to. He loved her too much to condemn her to a life spent in the shadows, and he loved her too much to risk that someday, somehow he might fulfill Deirdre’s prophecy and hurt her.

  The scent of blood that filled the air was overpowering to his sensitive, famished senses. The beast inside him was still stirring, and even now, with the melee over, his fangs were out. He drew in a shaky breath, knowing there was one way he could demonstrate to Carolyn beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was better off without him. Of course, there was a reasonable chance that Jules and Drake would kill him if he tried it. But it was worth the risk.

  Slowly, reluctantly, Gray forced himself to relax, to stop fighting, to let go of his control. It didn’t come easily. He was so used to fighting it was almost like his brain was hardwired for it. But then he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply the scent of blood that filled the room. The beast uncoiled in his belly and his eyes shot open on a surge of adrenaline.

  Carolyn was looking at him quizzically, her head tilted to one side, when he let go of the reins entirely and the beast took over.

  Some part of the real him was still there, watching like a concerned observer, when he rose to his feet in one quick movement and hurtled across the empty space that separated him from Carolyn. Her eyes widened in shock, and her mouth opened to voice some kind of protest, but he was on her before any words escaped. His body slammed against hers, knocking her hard to the floor as he pulled his lips away from his teeth and snarled. The sound of her hammering pulse, so close, fueled his hunger, and he grabbed her hair to stretch the skin taut over the thin blue vein of her throat.

  The part of him that was still Gray James mentally urged Jules and Drake to hurry up. The part of him that was the beast crowed in triumph as he lowered his head to bite.

  Hands like vises fastened onto his arms and tore him away from her. The beast growled and snapped, trying to tear free of the restraint, finish what it had started. Jules slammed him hard against the wall, knocking the wind out of him then holding him pi
nned. Hannah helped a dazed-looking Carolyn to her feet. Gray struggled and kicked, eyes boring into Carolyn, willing her not to run away, willing her to come to him and offer her throat.

  She took a step toward him, and Hannah grabbed her arm to stop her. A brutally hard punch to his gut broke Gray’s concentration on the glamour.

  “Get her out of here!” Jules yelled to Hannah.

  Hannah obediently dragged on Carolyn’s arm, but Carolyn didn’t budge. “Promise me you won’t hurt him!” Carolyn said, her eyes shining with tears. “He can’t help himself.” One of those tears slid down her cheek.

  “I won’t hurt him,” Jules said, and if Gray hadn’t still been struggling for air after the vicious punch, he might have laughed.

  “Come on,” Hannah urged, pulling harder on Carolyn’s arm. “We need to go. Now!”

  Finally, Carolyn allowed Hannah to guide her out the door.

  As soon as the door closed, Jules released his grip on Gray, shocking him so much Gray almost fell down. He glanced sharply upward to meet Jules’s eyes.

  “Why’d you let me go?” he asked as he realized he’d regained full control.

  Jules smiled at him, one of his crooked, mocking smiles. “You never told me you were an actor.”

  Gray scowled. “I wasn’t acting!”

  “You forget—I was there the last time you truly lost control of the hunger. I know the signs.”

  Gray was pissed enough to lower his fangs again, though with Jules it could never be anything but an empty threat. “If you knew I was faking, then you didn’t have to punch me!”

  Jules grinned. “Hey, I was helping you make it look real.”

  “Prick!”

  “Asshole!”

  “Gentlemen,” Drake said, before it could get any uglier. They both turned to see him kneeling beside the injured Guardian. The wound had closed over, but the poor guy looked dazed and sick. “We should get Michael out of here. He needs to feed as soon as possible. Take him to Eli.”