branched into numerous others that proved to be as confusing as a maze in a cornfield. Only Bastien knew the layout. So those who went looking for him always ended up getting lost and meeting the same fate they sought to avoid when Bastien tracked them down.
The other three tunnels that branched off the original basement led to small rooms like Cliff, Vince, and Joe’s that were outfitted with surprisingly comfortable cots and folding stadium chairs in which they could kick back and relax after a hunt.
The metallic scent of blood—coupled with the acrid odors of gunpowder, sweat, and fear—flooded the hallway as more gunshots joined the din and blades continued to clash.
Cliff’s heart slammed against his ribs as adrenaline flooded his veins.
Vampires crowded together at the end of the hallway, forcing him to stop. All pressed forward, eyes glowing, eager to jump into battle and slay the immortals who had invaded their home.
Immortal Guardians had recently slain some of their vampire comrades in a skirmish Bastien himself had limped home from. And everyone here wanted those bastards to pay for it with blood.
Cliff leaned this way and that, rising onto his toes and peering over the vamps in front of him, trying to get a glimpse of what the hell was happening.
When he did, his blood froze.
Three men and one woman—all garbed in the long black coats, shirts, and cargo pants Immortal Guardians favored—fought with preternatural speed that was so much greater than Cliff’s that he sometimes had difficulty following their movements. Each male immortal had planted himself in front of the entrance to a tunnel and proceeded to cut down vampire after vampire who emerged and attacked them. The woman stood near the stairs leading up to the ground floor, spraying any vamp who made it past her brethren with bullets. Blood splattered every immortal and painted the walls and ceilings. Bodies littered the floor.
Vampire bodies that shriveled up as the symbiotic virus they housed devoured them from the inside out in a last desperate bid to continue living.
The bitter taste of fear filled Cliff’s mouth. Was Bastien one of those bodies?
The long, twisting tunnel that led to his room was the only one left unguarded. Had they already slain him?
Cliff strained to hear anything that might indicate Bastien still lived and nearly sagged with relief when he heard Bastien snarl something at… Roland? He was fighting Roland Warbrook?
Determined to find a way to help him, Cliff tightened his hold on his bowie knives and tensed as Mike and Wes, the last two vampires in front of him, lunged forward to attack an Immortal Guardian who must be at least six foot eight with a long black ponytail that reached his ass.
The Immortal Guardian swung a katana so quickly Cliff couldn’t see it. He could only hear the whoosh of its movement.
Mike’s head leaped from his body and landed in Wes’s hands. Cliff sucked in a breath.
Wes yelped and dropped it a second before the Immortal Guardian decapitated him, too.
Vince gasped.
Joe swore.
Cliff stared in horror. Despair inundated him as he gaped up at the immortal who now stood before him.
All of the other Immortal Guardians’ eyes glowed amber. But this one’s eyes glowed golden, and he radiated power like no one Cliff had ever encountered. Was this their leader? Had the leader of the Immortal Guardians come to personally bring a halt to Bastien’s quest? Had he come to kill Bastien?
The immortal gave Cliff, Vince, and Joe a curious look, then glanced over his shoulder.
He wasn’t even breathing hard!
“How many more of these bastards are there?” a British warrior growled with aggravation as he cut down another vampire.
The tallest one responded with a casual shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.”
His voice… This was the man Cliff had heard tell the others to keep Roland from killing Bastien. Why? Because he wanted to kill Bastien himself? Make an example of him?
Cliff glanced at Vince and Joe.
Panic painted their features. Like him, neither seemed to know how the hell they could defeat this immortal and his companions and stop Roland before he killed Bastien.
If he hadn’t already killed him.
Had Roland killed him? It was hard for Cliff to hear with his heartbeat pounding so loudly in his ears.
He focused on the golden-eyed leader. Even three against one, he had no hope of defeating him. And he did not want his head to end up on the floor beside Mike’s and Wes’s…