that?”
“No. Immortals don’t have to battle the insanity vampires do.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Stuart, the two vampires I told you about . . . We’re working with them to find a way to prevent that and to reverse the damage, to find a treatment so being infected won’t result in an automatic mental decline. We want to help vampires.”
“Then why kill us?”
“You leave us little choice,” Bastien said. “If there were a rabid dog in your neighborhood, would you let it run around attacking at will, or would you put it down?”
“We’re trying to spare you both fates,” Melanie explained. “But, we can’t impress upon you strongly enough that either of those—a descent into madness or death at the hands of an immortal—would be preferable to the fate you would meet if you were captured by Emrys and his army.”
“They’re humans. I just don’t see—”
“They have pistols that will sedate you and any other vampire in seconds,” Bastien reminded him. “These are mercenaries armed with automatic weapons. You won’t be able to stand against them. I barely escaped myself.”
Stuart still looked uncertain. “I have to think about it.”
“I’ll give you until tomorrow night.”
Stuart shook his head. “What if I need more time? I mean . . . I don’t know.”
Bastien took the boy’s arm again and felt only fear. No malice. Or triumph. Or anything that might indicate deception. “Three nights,” Bastien conceded. It was a hell of a decision. “Meet me here at midnight or I’ll assume you’ve opted not to join us and will hunt you down. And Stuart . . .”
“Yeah?”
“If I have to hunt you down, there won’t be any talking when I find you. We clear?”
“Yeah.” Stuart took a step back. Then another. Seconds later he vanished into the foliage and Bastien heard him rushing away as fast as he could.
He turned to face Melanie and found her studying him, her pretty face impassive.
“You can kick ass,” he praised, both impressed and puzzled by the fact that she had held her own so well against a vampire.
“Yes.” With a tip of her chin, she indicated the trees through which Stuart had departed. “You’re really going to let him go?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t do that, Bastien.”
He should not like the sound of his name on her lips so much. “He can’t spread the word if I don’t.”
“But he said he’s killed.”
“He was lying.”
“You don’t know that with any certainty, not without one of the telepaths confirming it.”
“I know it with some certainty.”
“How?”
“Don’t you know about my gift?”
“No. Why? What is it?”
“I’m an empath.”
She stared at him in silence for so long he began to feel a bit self-conscious. “You can feel other people’s emotions?” she asked finally.
“Yes. And Stuart’s told me he was lying to try to save his ass.”
Again she stared at him.
“What?” he asked when the silence stretched.
“You can feel my emotions? Right now?”
“No. I have to touch you to feel them.”
“So . . .”
He could see her considering it, trying to remember every time he had touched her or she had touched him. At the network. In her car. At David’s. Trying to remember what she might have inadvertently revealed.
“You might have mentioned it. Given me a little warning.”
“Such didn’t occur to me.”
More silence.
“What do you feel when you touch me?” she asked.
Bastien’s attention dropped to her full lips as she licked them anxiously. “Sometimes I feel your concern. Sometimes uncertainty. Clinical detachment. Fear the first time we met.”
“Well, our first meeting was rather . . . explosive.”
That was putting it mildly.
“What else?”
He knew what she sought. “Sometimes my gift tells me you feel what I feel myself every time I look at you. Or think of you. Or touch you.”
Her soft, smooth neck moved with a swallow. “You’re attracted to
“No. Immortals don’t have to battle the insanity vampires do.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Stuart, the two vampires I told you about . . . We’re working with them to find a way to prevent that and to reverse the damage, to find a treatment so being infected won’t result in an automatic mental decline. We want to help vampires.”
“Then why kill us?”
“You leave us little choice,” Bastien said. “If there were a rabid dog in your neighborhood, would you let it run around attacking at will, or would you put it down?”
“We’re trying to spare you both fates,” Melanie explained. “But, we can’t impress upon you strongly enough that either of those—a descent into madness or death at the hands of an immortal—would be preferable to the fate you would meet if you were captured by Emrys and his army.”
“They’re humans. I just don’t see—”
“They have pistols that will sedate you and any other vampire in seconds,” Bastien reminded him. “These are mercenaries armed with automatic weapons. You won’t be able to stand against them. I barely escaped myself.”
Stuart still looked uncertain. “I have to think about it.”
“I’ll give you until tomorrow night.”
Stuart shook his head. “What if I need more time? I mean . . . I don’t know.”
Bastien took the boy’s arm again and felt only fear. No malice. Or triumph. Or anything that might indicate deception. “Three nights,” Bastien conceded. It was a hell of a decision. “Meet me here at midnight or I’ll assume you’ve opted not to join us and will hunt you down. And Stuart . . .”
“Yeah?”
“If I have to hunt you down, there won’t be any talking when I find you. We clear?”
“Yeah.” Stuart took a step back. Then another. Seconds later he vanished into the foliage and Bastien heard him rushing away as fast as he could.
He turned to face Melanie and found her studying him, her pretty face impassive.
“You can kick ass,” he praised, both impressed and puzzled by the fact that she had held her own so well against a vampire.
“Yes.” With a tip of her chin, she indicated the trees through which Stuart had departed. “You’re really going to let him go?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t do that, Bastien.”
He should not like the sound of his name on her lips so much. “He can’t spread the word if I don’t.”
“But he said he’s killed.”
“He was lying.”
“You don’t know that with any certainty, not without one of the telepaths confirming it.”
“I know it with some certainty.”
“How?”
“Don’t you know about my gift?”
“No. Why? What is it?”
“I’m an empath.”
She stared at him in silence for so long he began to feel a bit self-conscious. “You can feel other people’s emotions?” she asked finally.
“Yes. And Stuart’s told me he was lying to try to save his ass.”
Again she stared at him.
“What?” he asked when the silence stretched.
“You can feel my emotions? Right now?”
“No. I have to touch you to feel them.”
“So . . .”
He could see her considering it, trying to remember every time he had touched her or she had touched him. At the network. In her car. At David’s. Trying to remember what she might have inadvertently revealed.
“You might have mentioned it. Given me a little warning.”
“Such didn’t occur to me.”
More silence.
“What do you feel when you touch me?” she asked.
Bastien’s attention dropped to her full lips as she licked them anxiously. “Sometimes I feel your concern. Sometimes uncertainty. Clinical detachment. Fear the first time we met.”
“Well, our first meeting was rather . . . explosive.”
That was putting it mildly.
“What else?”
He knew what she sought. “Sometimes my gift tells me you feel what I feel myself every time I look at you. Or think of you. Or touch you.”
Her soft, smooth neck moved with a swallow. “You’re attracted to
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