Anne Brontë Nightwalker

Chapter 50

"No, William!" I exclaim. "You're not a hunter."

"You don't know what he is," Santos says, pacing like a caged tiger. "You don't know anything about us."

"And you don't know anything about Webb. You have no idea what you're dealing with."

"He has no idea what he's dealing with," says Santos.

Emily shakes her head in disgust. "You're not going against some malnourished goatherd in a Stone Age country. Drop the macho act."

"It's not an act."

"That's even worse." She stares Santos down across the room, and he shoots her a look that suggests any moment he might cross the silken Oriental rug and grab her by the throat. Emily smiles like she wants him to. Like she's daring him to.

I shiver and William brings me the softest fur throw, draping it over my shoulders, then begins to rewrap my broken wrist, discarding the wet, dirty bandage and replacing it with a long silk scarf that has somehow magically appeared. I don't want him to go. I don't want him to fight. No one in this room is strong enough or savage enough to take on a Day Walker. Not even Santos.

"You can't beat him," I say.

"Good thing you're not military." Santos spins on me. "We would have lost every fuc—" he stops himself "—every war we ever fought."

"You're doing a good job of that all on your own," Emily says.

Santos' eyes go ice-cold, silencing her. Yes, I think. See how romantic your Heathcliff is now.

"Stay on point," William demands. He ties off my bandage and turns to Santos. "Don't forget who you're talking to, Atticus. No matter how strong they may be, these are women, not twenty-year-old Rangers. Adapt to your audience or we will get absolutely nowhere."

Santos stops pacing the room and collapses into a chair, running his hands over his face. "This is crazy," he moans. "I don't know what's real. What the hell is a Day Walker? How many of them are there? Is the entire town crawling with . . . with . . . vampires?"

I sigh and close my eyes while William fills Santos in, bringing him up-to-date on what information we've pieced together. As I sit by the fire, Woody curls up and falls asleep in my lap. Vander brings me another goblet of blood that tastes of cinnamon. Already I am healing, but I sip to regain more strength. Emily refuses to drink or sit. Instead, she stands near the far side of the mantel, edged toward the exit, glancing continually toward the tall carved doors as if any moment they will slam shut, locking us all inside. Santos throws back a shot of ancient scotch from a nearby decanter followed by another in rapid succession. William takes nothing while calmly explaining to Santos what we know of Day Walkers and menarche while Santos looks on, bewildered. Thankfully, my first kill is not part of the story.

"Menarche?" Santos asks.

"A girl's first blood," William explains. "Apparently it's full of power. Strength."

"How did you ever figure this out?" Emily asks me quietly.

I whisper so softly only she can hear. "When you tell me about your lover, I will tell you about my first kill." Her eyes glide away.

"Did you kill Webb?" William asks.

Santos scowls. "I don't think so. I shot him twice and clipped him a third time as he ran off. He's fast. Insane fast."

I turn to Santos. "How'd you find me?"

"Your text. When I got there, Dana was dead and Webb was carrying you off. I didn't know what went down. Who was what and who killed Dana? With a saber? None of it made sense. I tried to follow, but Webb was too fast. Eventually I tracked him to Whisper Mountain and found him . . . feeding on you." He grimaces. "I thought he was going to kill you."