NIGHT REIGNS

It was not the cool breeze that made the hairs on the back of Ami's neck rise, but the low bestial growl that accompanied it. 

She froze, one arm extended in front of her, fingers  tightening on the DVD case poised half-in half-out of the movie rental  Quick Drop slot.  Gooseflesh broke out on her arms.  Adrenaline surged  through her veins and sped her pulse. 

Swiveling to face the source of that disturbing  warning, she surveyed the parking lot behind her and found it empty save  her shiny black Tesla Roadster.  Orange and brown leaves swirled and  tumbled across patched black asphalt that still glistened in places from  a midnight shower.  Whole Foods, Blockbuster, and the other businesses in the strip mall had long since closed for the night. 

She glanced to her right.  East Franklin Street was  deserted . . . as it should be.  Chapel Hill, NC, was a college town.   At roughly 3:20 on a Sunday night (or Monday morning), students and  professors would be snug in their beds, catching Z's in preparation for  an early start to the work or school week. 

Ami relaxed her death grip on the DVD and let it  thunk down atop the myriad of other movies and games that had been  returned.  She took a step toward her car.  The growl sounded once more,  seeming to buffet her and ruffle her bangs alongside the northerly  wind.  Deep and full of menace, it was not the complaint of some  irritable house pet left too long in the elements.  No dog produced this  rumbling.  Something larger did, bringing it closer in tone and texture  to that of a lion or a tiger. 

Another growl answered it, not as impressive as the  first, but nevertheless disturbing.  Then another.  And another.  And  another.  Frowning, Ami reached into her jacket, withdrew the Glock 9mm  Seth insisted she always carry, and approached Franklin Street with  caution. 

It definitely came from the north.  Not from the  darkened businesses across the street, but from the bike trail to their  right that veered left into the trees behind them.  A snarling infused  with such violence and fury one might think a lion were battling a pack  of wolves. 

Just as she reached the edge of the parking lot, odd shick, ting, and clang noises joined the fray.   

Ami darted across the street and raced down the bike  path.  Tall trees formed spires on her right.  A small meadow with a  radio tower lay on her left, but soon surrendered to forest.  When it  did, Ami slowed to a brisk walk and entered the denser shadows.  Her  heart pounded.  The babbling of a brook she couldn't see teased her  ears.   

Ten or fifteen yards in, she left the path, headed  into the trees, and began wading through the undergrowth.  Fortunately,  it had rained earlier.  The autumn leaves beneath the canopy were still  damp and muffled her footsteps. 

Up ahead, small lights flickered like fireflies.   Amber.  Green.  Blue.  Silver.  Sometimes individually.  Sometimes in  pairs.  Moving and shifting.  The length of time they remained visible  varying. 

Ami swallowed hard and questioned her sanity as she  came to an area where the trees thinned.  She paused, concealed by the  denser foliage on the perimeter. 

Ahead, too small to be called a clearing, lay a  patch of land the size of a two-car garage that just happened to be  treeless.  In its center, a fantastical scene unfolded that — for many —  would defy belief. 

The flickering lights she had spied swam in and out  of focus as the faces that housed them moved so quickly to and fro that  they blurred.  Men, who were clearly more than mortal men, engaged in a  surreal battle that resurrected her first description:  a lion facing  down a wolf pack. 

The lion — a dark, menacing figure in the  center of the storm — bore glowing amber eyes and long black hair that  floated around his head like tendrils of smoke as he spun, fought, and  slashed at his attackers with a speed that brought to mind the Tasmanian  Devil in the Warner Brothers cartoons Darnell had shown her. 

Immortal Guardian. 

No other creature could move so swiftly. 

The pack of wolves — growling and snapping  like their namesakes — also bore glowing eyes, theirs green, blue, and  silver.  Though they all, like the immortal, were garbed in midnight  hues, their hair varied.  Blond.  Brunet.  Auburn.  Long.  Short.   Shaved.  Spiked.  Pulled back in a ponytail.  They, too, moved faster  than humans ever could, darting in and striking at the immortal with  indistinct motions, then leaping back and pausing to gauge the damage  and let their comrades have a shot, their blades dripping crimson  liquid. 

Vampires. 

Though they couldn't match their enemy's speed and  strength, the vampires outnumbered the immortal . . . eight to one as  best as she could count.  Ami could only make out individual features  when the vampires paused between strikes. 

She discerned none of the immortal's features  because he remained in continuous motion, his swords or sais or whatever  blades he wielded defending him from assaults on all sides. 

Ami reached into her left pocket, palm sweating, and  pulled out a cylindrical aluminum silencer that was longer than the  Glock itself.  Keeping her gaze on the conflict before her, she screwed  it onto the barrel.  The top-of-the-line suppressor would reduce the  explosive expulsion of each hollow-point bullet to a mere click that would not rouse residents slumbering in the houses and townhouses beyond the trees. 

Raising the Glock with her right hand, she supported it with her left and waited. 

A blur of movement solidified into a blond vampire  who halted — aqua eyes gleaming, bowie knives dripping — on the fringes  of the pack. 

Ami fired twice. 

Blood sprayed from his carotid and femoral arteries.   Dropping his weapons, the vampire emitted a garbled croak and clamped  his hands to his neck in an attempt to cease the gush of his life's  blood. 

A vampire with shaggy brown hair appeared next to him. 

Ami fired thrice more, striking the new vamp in his carotid, branchial, and femoral arteries. 

All six remaining vampires stilled and glanced at  their injured colleagues, who sank to their knees as they bled out  faster than the virus that infected them could heal.   

The Immortal Guardian paused and unerringly met Ami's gaze. 

For one split second, her heart stopped and everything around her fell away, out of focus, a dark void.  All but the immortal. 

His hair settled on his shoulders and tumbled  halfway down his back and chest in wild disarray, concealing much of his  face.  His eyes, viewed through the tangles, glowed a vibrant amber  beneath raven brows.  Dark stubble covered a strong jaw spattered with  spots and streaks of scarlet.  His full lips parted, emitting great  gasping breaths interspersed with the rumblings of a lion, and displayed  white, glinting fangs. 

* * * 

It was, perhaps, one of the oddest moments of Marcus's existence. 

Well, odd may not be the correct word.  Vampires  still moving in packs larger than twos or threes was odd.  Vampires  remaining lucid enough to organize the ambush he had plunged into was  odd.  At least, it had been up until a year and a half ago. 

This . . .   

This was surprising. 

And very little surprised Marcus. 

Panting, losing blood from dozens of cuts and gashes  that had not had time to heal before more were inflicted, he stared at  the instigator of this fortuitous pause. 

He had expected to see a Second decked out in black  vampire-hunting togs.  Instead, his fascinated gaze landed upon a sweet,  undeniably feminine face with a halo of bright orange curls.  Wide  green eyes as vivid as emeralds peered out of concealing foliage and met  his. 

She was pretty.  And small.  And seemed to radiate  innocence.  Were it not for the weapon extended before her, he would  wonder if he weren't imagining her. 

Who was she?  What was she doing here? 

The clothing she wore labeled her a civilian — snug  jeans, loose sweater, dark jacket — so why wasn't she screaming?  Why  didn't she shoot him?  Why was she helping him instead of fleeing or  firing at them all? 

Marcus lacked the time to speculate further.  He  sensed the instant the six remaining vampires located the petite  assassin and drew back his arm.