Part 9 (1/2)

reached the back of one of the sofas. When she made it to her feet, 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 in her boot. A gun might not kill a vampire, but a headshot could incapacitate one for a moment-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 her hands up, her weapon pointing toward the ceiling. ”Question is, do you have the safety off?”

The youth's gaze dropped to his gun, and Darcy fired a round through his forehead. Before he hit the floor, she staked him. ”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 from 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 the machine gun away and raised the stake. Only 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,” she said. ”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. It 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 Joe had taken cover behind. Before she rounded the corner, she saw a crimson pool of liquid, which was spreading wider by the moment across the blue-gray tile. ”No, no, no.”

He was lying 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 this jacket off him. 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 internal organs are shutting down, one after the other. He's going to 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's not going to answer you. He can't,” Quentin said. ”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. 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!” Quentin lowered his mouth to Joe's neck.

Darcy rose and went to the doorway that led to the patio. She glanced back at Quentin and prayed 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.

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. ”Darc, is the house secure?”

”Yeah.”

”You okay?”

She nodded, and then realized he couldn't see the movement. ”Sure.”

”Joe and Quentin still inside?”