Anne Brontë Nightwalker

Chapter 43

Her mouth falls open, eyes widening as she stares down at her chest uncomprehendingly. Dana's hands move to the blade but I pull free the saber, the scent of blood slamming me as it shoots from her heart. She looks up at me in horror, trying to speak, her hands pressed over the neat wound, holding back blood streaming through her fingers onto the snow.

Within seconds, she's unconscious. I catch her as she falls and gently place her on the ground, hearing her heart pulse more faintly with every beat. It sounds like rain falling lighter and lighter upon a window until, finally, it is still at last.

I cover my eyes and cave into myself, willing this nightmare away, but when I look again, Dana lies before me in an ever-widening stain of blood. The snow is death-drenched and the night perfectly silent, bearing witness to my crime.

A sob tears out of me. My hand covers my mouth but I can't stop it. I collapse to my knees, shuddering as eons of darkness and fear, murder and exile come rushing upon me. Pain. So much pain and grief and shame. I am sick of this life. This endless death. When will God release me? The longer I live, the further from grace I fall. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop killing and His light dims with every drop of blood I shed.

We are all alone.

Emptiness crashes over me. Without Him, I'm crushed in loneliness. With Him, I'm crushed beneath abandonment. It's the same in death as it was in life; I have always forever been alone. William will die, Emily vanish and Ivanhoe rot to dust. It's too much to bear. I'm not strong enough.

I am the weak one.

The sick one.

The unloved one.

I brush the hair off Dana's forehead, lay my head against hers and weep. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry, Dana," I sob.

"Don't cry for her."

My breath catches.

"She really isn't worthy." Standing above me in a beam of the moon is Dr. Webb. I blink, trying to clear my vision from tears. My mind stumbles and all I can think is how inappropriately he's dressed for the weather. His khakis and snug t-shirt reveal a thickly muscled frame. A pit bull, that's what he reminds me of; short, stocky, and strong. His eyes glow glacially out of an impassive face.

I clamber to my feet, fumbling for my saber discarded on the ground, but before I can reach it, he picks it up and examines it in the moonlight. I step away from him.

"You are old-fashioned, aren't you?" He smiles, then tosses it at my feet. "Take it if it makes you more comfortable."

"Why did you do this to her!" I yell. "Why couldn't you let her be?"

"She chased me like a huntress. I only gave her what she wanted. That girl was a whore."

"Then why turn her, to spend eternity by your side? If you think so little of her, why did you do this to her?"

"I most certainly had no plans for eternity. Only pleasure. Every Alpha needs a mate and I've been alone a long time. Celibacy is for priests, not vampires, and when it comes to sex, I prefer the willing. Dana was one of the few mortal women strong enough to handle my appetites, but even she had her limits."

I have not seen an Alpha in fifty years, but it's just as I remember: the sense of entitlement to whatever they want, the belief their superior strength preordains them to dominance. It's arrogance born from unchallenged power. They have no compassion for the soft, only contempt.

Where is Santos? I pray he doesn't stumble upon us. Even armed, he's no match for a Day Walker.

My hands are sweaty with fear and I struggle to grip the saber slipping against my palm. The tip trembles when I point it at him. He smiles. He fully takes me in, dragging his gaze across me like a man appraising a potential slave or a horse. It's the first time he's seen me out of uniform and he seems pleasantly surprised.

"Easy, Anne," he says in his doctor's voice, the same tone he used with Savannah: kind and considerate. "There's no reason to be afraid."

"Aren't you angry with me for taking your plaything?"

"Dana was demanding but she led me to you, and for that I thank her. I have always preferred a more gentle girl. We are far more compatible, don't you think?"

I give him an incredulous look. "If you think that, you are no better versed in reading women than in honoring the sanctity of your profession." I sheathe my saber. He is a Day Walker, albeit a waning one, and I will not get into a swordfight with him. The broken bones in my wrist grate and my legs shake beneath me as I edge away from him, hoping to flee toward my car but in a blur he blocks my path. He's fast. Too fast. My heart races in my chest and I force myself to breathe. I am a woman with the power of intellect on my side. I will stay calm. Composure has always been my greatest strength.

My hand slides to my pocket, where I find my phone and painfully press speed dial for Asheville dispatch. I don't know what I expect them to do. Rescue me? Send police and fire? By the time they arrive, it will be too late.

But Webb crushes my phone to dust in his hand. Like a lightning bolt, he strikes me across the face, knocking me to the ground, dazing me. Stars flare behind my eyes.

"Enough of this." He grabs me by the chin and, crouching, draws my face close to his. Blood runs down my forehead, stinging my eye. His fingers dig into my flesh, holding me like a vise. "I'm trying to be reasonable but you're not responding, so let me be clear." His voice turns whisper soft. "I'm in charge. You will obey."

I push away from him but he sinks his teeth into my throat. I take small, shallow breaths and try to push him off, but I might as well be a newborn fawn clutched in the jaws of a wolf.

He takes a deep pull of blood then releases me and yanks me to my feet. "Fighting is futile," he says. "You only bring pain upon yourself."

I struggle to free myself, even though it's pointless. He hits me again, knocking me back to the ground.

A great wave of black engulfs me and the world goes dark.