One Immortal - Tia Louise Page 0,29

blood floods my veins.

“Fuck,” I growl through my clenched jaw.

Their blood is heavier than mine, and it feels like slow, painful molasses ripping through my forearms, searing my veins.

Stuart begins to chant slowly.

May my hand never separate itself from the fraternal hand of my brothers.

May my feet walk by the side of my brothers because we walk in the steps of light.

May my eyes look to heaven with my brothers, for we seek justice and truth.

May brotherhood emerge among all the beings.

May peace be established in the inner essence.

Until the evil is driven out from among us.

We are the protectors of the light.

Amen.

By the final sentences, I’m able to look up and see his lips aren’t moving. I’m hearing his words in my mind as the shifter blood takes over, uniting us telepathically.

Patrick’s voice joins the Amen in my head. The pain lessens. Shifter strength quickly rises in my body, changing my basic cell structure. It’s only a temporary change, but while it lasts, I’ll be almost as powerful as them, and the three of us will be united in our thoughts. We’ll be able to track each other.

“Rest now,” Stuart’s voice is in my head as he releases my elbow. “That’s more than you’ve ever taken. You need a few hours to adjust.”

My head is dizzy, and I hold onto the side of the tub while Patrick binds my arms with cloths. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to go,” he says in my mind.

Nodding, I lift my feet out of the swirling pink water. Only a few drops were lost in the tub. Two steps and I crash on the soft cotton sheets. My senses are already heightened, and I smell her ocean-kissed roses on my pillow. Melissa is the last thing I remember until it’s time to face our shared enemy.

8

Betrayals

Derek

The white faces of the tombs in Lafayette Cemetery are pale blue in the dying sunlight. We decided to follow the same setup as last time so the bloodsuckers will know it’s us returning.

I’m dressed as before in loose jeans, heavy boots, and a black T-shirt. Again, the small gun loaded with silver bullets is in my boot, and this time, I have a stake in my back pocket.

Two notable changes, however—Patrick insisted on resuming his preferred form of German shepherd, saying his movements are too slow as a larger breed. Stuart is an oversized Rottweiler at my side. Both are wearing the heavy silver chain collars. In addition to looking badass, the collars protect their necks from injury.

We don’t speak aloud. It’s one of the primary benefits of the transfusion. Our plan is to start at the tomb where the old one was hiding last time, and if he’s no longer there, we’ll work our way down the rows. The dogs can follow the scent of the vampires. Unfortunately, it’s the only power that never crosses through the blood to me.

We’re only a few tombs deep into the ancient burial ground when Stuart’s back bristles. He stops, and a low growl rumbles through his throat.

They’ve been this way recently, Patrick tells me, picking up the scent along with his brother.

All of my muscles peak. We’re on high alert. We round a tall crypt, and we’re in the shadows of five monuments. The further in we go, the darker it gets, until it happens. My skin tingles. A dark silhouette rises from the gloom ahead of me on the path.

It’s not the same vampire I fought, Patrick says. It’s a new one.

The three of us stop in our tracks. New ones are as dangerous as old ones, primarily because they’re unpredictable. They’re still learning their powers, and they take inexplicable risks.

He’s using it to alert him of our location, Stuart says. I’ll take care of this thing.

A low growl rumbles in his thick body, and I can feel his adrenaline kicking up a notch. My pulse rate quickens in response, and Patrick begins to pace.

The thing is drawing closer, making hissing noises and flashing hideous red eyes. It’s a male, dressed in skinny jeans and a threadbare shirt. He looks like what’s left of a homeless runaway, and it’s possible he had mental illness at the time of his transformation.

Watch yourself, I say to Stuart. He’s bound to do something unexpected.

As if the monster can read my mind, he takes a flying leap to the top of the crypt to our left. The three of us scatter back, wheeling to face him, assuming defensive posture lest he