“Now for the rest of you,” he murmured.
As he went to work on the rest of the cuts, something kept nagging at him.
Marcus frowned. It was the bruises. The many, many bruises that coated her. They shouldn’t be such a deep shade of purple-black. Not yet. Not this quickly.
An idea began to form.
If he checked the bruises in a few hours, would they already be fading to brown, then greenish yellow? Were her body’s healing abilities accelerated?
That wound on her hip really had looked worse when he had checked it on the hood of the Prius. Were the cuts and gashes he had just doctored as miraculously superficial as they seemed? Or had they been worse when inflicted and already begun to close?
“Ami, are you a gifted one?”
Her eyes shifted away from his. “Why would you ask that?”
“It’s your bruises.” His touch featherlight, he slid his fingers over a couple of the dozen that colored her forearm, then took her hand. “They’re so dark already. I thought it took longer for humans’ bruises to gain their full color.”
Staring down at their clasped hands, she shrugged. “I guess I just bruise easily.” Tentatively, Ami smoothed her thumb across the back of his hand.
A little spark zipped through him. Marcus swallowed. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bastard.”
Her gaze met his, bright with surprise and something else he couldn’t decipher. “You haven’t been—”
“Yes, I have,” he interrupted. “But that’s over. Tonight …” He shook his head. “No Second has ever fought more fiercely. No Second has ever risked so much to protect me. To aid me. It truly was an honor to have you at my back.”
Her lips tilted up. “Thank you.”
“Do you think we could start over again?” he asked. “Or has my stint as a surly old curmudgeon driven you away?”
Her small smile turned into a grin. “We can start over.”
“Good.” Stepping back, he readjusted his grip on her hand and shook it formally. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Marcus Grayden, and I am in dire need of a Second.”
“Nice to meet you, Marcus. My name is Amiriska, and I believe I’m just what you’ve been looking for.”
Truer words had never been spoken.
He brought her hand to his lips. “Then it appears we have an accord.”
She nodded and closed her eyes, her breath emerging on a sigh. Then, every muscle going limp, Ami pitched forward.
Startled, Marcus locked his arms around her and held her against his chest, her lower half still seated on the counter. “Ami?” He gave her a little shake. “Ami?”
Shifting her so she lay against his arm, he brushed the damp hair back from her face.
Eyes closed, Ami didn’t respond.
Had she lost too much blood? Was she going into shock?
Marcus scooped her up off the counter, carried her into the bedroom, and, yanking the covers down, laid her gently in the bed. As soon as he drew the covers back up to her chin, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Seth’s number.
It went directly to voice mail.
Swearing foully, he started to dial Roland’s number, then remembered Ami’s strong aversion to the idea, as well as her refusal to go to the network to be cared for by their doctors.
He really would rather not violate her trust so swiftly.
Frustrated, he texted Seth: Answer your fucking phone! Ami needs you!
Cursing, Seth slipped his cell phone back into his pocket and surveyed the fog-enshrouded clearing around him with impatience. After their little conversation earlier, he didn’t think Marcus was screwing around. And, coming so soon after the call from Reordon (Chris hadn’t left a message), it spawned a great deal of concern.
Why did this meeting have to take place tonight of all nights?
And why did all hell break loose every time Seth turned his back or took one hour—just one hour—off to handle personal business?
A chilly mist hovered around his ankles. Majestic mountains rose all around him, tall trees surging upward and trying to pierce the sliver of a moon that smiled down at him.
As far as locations went, this was a pretty one. Dark. Isolated. The air fresh and less tainted by pollution.
The clearing itself was small and almost perfectly round, giving one the feeling of standing in the bottom of a leafy green abandoned missile silo.
A soft whupping sound tickled his ears.
Finally.
Seconds later, a figure stepped from the shadows of the trees and strolled forward.
Tall. Taller than Seth by a couple of inches. Dark, wavy hair past his shoulders. Chest bare. Black leather pants hanging low on his hips. He reminded Seth of a buffer Jim Morrison.
“I’m under a bit of a time constraint,” Seth said without preamble, “so if we could get through this as quickly as possible I would appreciate it.”
A grim smile twisted the man’s lips. “Hello to you, too, Cousin.”
“Since you only contact me when you have a bug up your ass, I thought I’d get right to the point. What’s the problem?”
His countenance darkened. “Your little immortal superheroes are fucking up.”
Seth rolled his eyes. “Did one of them venture too close to your little hideaway?”
His face tightened. “Such would be unwise.”
“Then what?” Seth remained still as the other approached and walked a slow circle around him.
“Did you really think we didn’t know about last year’s uprising?”
“Of course you knew,” Seth replied. “Isn’t that all you and the other hens in your sewing circle do? Sit around and gossip?”
A low growl rumbled from the other man’s throat.
“You also know we quelled it.”
“Did you?” He stopped in front of Seth.
“Yes.”
“Then why has word of the uprising encircled the globe?”
“Urban myth spouted in Internet chat rooms. Nothing more.”
The man shook his head. “You may not be able to see the future, but there are those among us who can. And the shit is about to hit the fan.”
Seth’s interest sharpened. “What do you know?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Seth snorted. “That’s right. You don’t interfere. You don’t participate. You merely observe.” He raised a mocking brow. “And yet … here you are. Has something changed?”
“Our existence must remain a secret. You know why.”
“I know the excuse you use for sitting around with your thumb up your—”
“Don’t test me, Seth,” he growled. “I’m here as a favor to you. Because if you don’t get this shit under control, the others will annihilate you, your Immortal Guardians, and the human network you’ve constructed.”
“You can try,” Seth rejoined. In truth, he was not at all certain who the victor would be in such a war. “But you might want to keep in mind that, while you all have been sitting and watching, I’ve been growing and exercising my powers and increasing my strength.”
His visitor shook his head and began to back away. “No one can know who you are. Once they find out about you, it’ll only be a matter of time before they find out about us. We aren’t going to let that happen.”
“Because you’re all about covering your own asses,” Seth commented wryly. “Or you were. I can’t help but wonder if your being here tonight might indicate a change of heart.”
The man said nothing, just continued to walk backward.
“The numbness wouldn’t happen to be wearing off, would it? Or boredom be setting in? Thinking of joining our ranks and diving into life instead of simply observing it?” he taunted.
The man stopped, flexed his shoulders. A pair of wings sprang from his back and spread behind him. Nearly translucent, they would span twelve feet when fully extended. The feathers that graced them were the same tan as his skin at their base and gradually darkened to black at their tips.
“Just end this, Seth.”
Bending his knees, he leapt up as those powerful wings swept down, propelling him like a rocket into the night sky, where he vanished amongst the clouds rolling in.
Before Seth could ponder the odd and admittedly unsettling turn of events, his cell phone vibrated again.
“What?” he answered.
“Where the hell have you been?” Marcus shouted in his ear.
Seth teleported, following voice, thoughts, and cell signal to Marcus’s guest bedroom. Ami lay still beneath the covers, eyes closed, her face bruised and swelling in a couple of places. Bloody and disheveled, Marcus paced beside the bed in great, agitated strides.
As soon as he saw Seth, Marcus pocketed his phone and repeated, “Where the hell have you been? You can’t threaten me with death and dismemberment if any harm comes to Ami then turn your back on her yourself! She needed you! Where the fuck were you?”
Seth could hear Ami’s heartbeat: slow and steady. Her breathing: deep and even. “What happened?” He moved to sit beside her on the bed.
Marcus continued to pace, raking his hands through disheveled hair as fury and fear poured off him in waves. “Ami showed up just after you left, and thirty-four vampires attacked us!”
Seth regarded him with shock. “Thirty-four? All vampires? No minions?”
“All vampires. Your bloody network has been infiltrated. I will never criticize Roland’s paranoia again, because his shit was dead on.”
Marcus was really wound up, all set for a nice, long rant by the looks of it, and Seth wasn’t entirely clear why. It couldn’t be the battle. Marcus lived for those kinds of challenges now. He should be riding high. Yet …
“What was that about the network?” Seth placed one hand on Ami’s forehead and the other on her chest.
“Fuck the network,” Marcus snapped. “Is Ami going to be okay? She doesn’t have a concussion, does she? Has she lost too much blood? She’s lost too much blood, hasn’t she? I knew it!”
