"Are we set?" he asked, running one hand through his own short ice-blond hair.
"Set," Bricker -- the brunet -- said calmly as he leaned into the van to grab two cans of gasoline. "How do you want to do this?"
Lucian shrugged, unable to find any real enthusiasm for the task ahead. He'd done this so many times over the years that there was little challenge to it anymore. He found it more interesting to track down the nests than to clear them out, but even that was less challenging than it used to be.
It didn't help that this was Morgan they were going after. He had been a best friend to Lucian's twin brother, Jean Claude, right up until the other man's death a few years earlier. The two men had been thick as thieves for centuries, and because of that, Lucian had counted the man as a friend as well. So much so that when the first whispers and rumors that Morgan had turned rogue started, Lucian ignored them, sure they couldn't be true. The rumors had persisted, however, and he'd had to look into the matter, though not enthusiastically. Now, here he stood, the rumors confirmed and Morgan marked for death.
"Here comes the sun," Mortimer murmured, and then repeated Bricker's question, "How do you want to do this?"
Lucian blinked away his thoughts and took in the first rays of sunlight creeping up to drive away the night. This was the best time to hit. Everyone would be returned to the nest by now and settling in to sleep the day away.
Because -- of course -- vampires didn't walk during the day, he thought dryly as his gaze slid over the surrounding trees, then finally to the decrepit house where Morgan had holed up with the pack of rogues he was creating. It looked bad in this light, but was worse -- he knew -- in daylight, when the sun baked down cruelly on the flaking paint, the boarded-over windows, and the weed-tangled lawn.
How the rogues chose to live never failed to amaze him. It was as if -- once their mind snapped and they decided to become the scourge of the earth -- they believed normal, civilized homes were beyond them. Or perhaps they were simply living down to what mortals thought they were, hoping to lure and hold their pack members in thrall that way. After all, if mortals knew how little magic immortals truly had, they might find it less attractive to be one, or at least to be their servants.
Shaking off these cynical thoughts, Lucian glanced toward the other two men and finally gave his answer. "The same as always."
Nodding, Mortimer closed the van doors, took the larger gas can from Bricker, and the three of them moved to the edge of the woods. They paused, their gazes sliding over the windows once again. There was no sign of movement from the house, but half the windows were boarded up so that didn't mean much.
"Do we give them a couple more minutes to settle in, or -- " Mortimer's question died, and they all glanced around as the sound of a vehicle disturbed the silence. They watched in silent surprise as a dark van turned into the driveway and crunched up the gravel lane.
"Hmm," Lucian said, with his first real spark of interest. This was different. Usually the "vampires" would have been in-house by now, if not already snug in the coffins they seemed to favor.
They moved back a bit into the trees to be less visible. As they watched, the van parked close to the house, then the driver jumped out and ran around to open the rear doors.
Lucian stiffened as Morgan swept out of the van, a brunette in his arms. Dressed in a short black skirt and a bloodstained white blouse, her eyes shot over the house and yard as if seeking an escape, but the way she lay limp in Morgan's arms told him that the rogue immortal had taken control of her body. There would be no escape.
"That's Leigh," Mortimer murmured with a frown.
"She works the bar at Coco's. The restaurant we've eaten at all week," Bricker explained, and Lucian grunted. Justin Bricker was young enough that he still ate, and Garrett Mortimer went along to keep him company and sometimes picked at food.
Lucian didn't bother with food, but he'd heard a lot this week about the "pretty little thing" who'd served them their late meals in the bar. They both seemed taken with her charm and sense of humor, and he supposed this Leigh was the "pretty little thing" in question. Certainly, neither man seemed pleased to see her being carried up the porch steps, obviously about to become Morgan's latest victim.
"We have to help her," Bricker said.
Mortimer nodded in agreement. "Yeah."
"She could be willing," Lucian pointed out, though there had been something in her eyes that suggested she wasn't.
Both men were silent, their gazes locked on the woman Morgan was carrying into the house.
"No. She isn't," Mortimer said with certainty as the door closed behind the trio. He sounded grim and angry. Mortimer rarely got angry.
Bricker agreed, "No, she isn't."
Shrugging, Lucian turned his gaze back to the house. "We should give them ten minutes or so to settle in for the night."
"But the longer we wait, the worse it could be for Leigh," Bricker protested.
"He's already bitten her and given her his own blood," Mortimer pointed out, obviously having gained the news from her thoughts when he'd read her. "There isn't much more he'd bother doing to her before she finishes turning."
Bricker frowned and glanced at Lucian. "We're taking her out of there, right?" When Lucian hesitated, he argued, "She hasn't bitten anyone yet, and doesn't want to be there. Leigh's a nice lady."
"We'll see," Lucian said finally.
Realizing it was all he'd get for now, Bricker fell silent, but he looked worried.
Lucian ignored him and proceeded to examine his equipment. He gave his crossbow a once-over, then counted the specially made wooden arrows in the quiver strapped to his leg. Satisfied that all was in order there, he retrieved the gun from his pocket, checking to see that it was fully loaded and the safety was on before putting it back.