Night Unbound

Lisette prowled the University of North Carolina's  campus in Greensboro.  Though the fall semester had only recently begun,  parties abounded.  Freshmen, thrilled to have left the nest and escaped  their parents' rule, got drunk off their asses and lured vampires like  sugar lured ants.  Male.  Female.  It didn't matter.  Easy prey was easy  prey.  And vampires tended to be lazy that way.  Even when the brain  damage the virus caused in humans progressed enough to drive them  insane, sheer habit—she supposed—prompted the vampires to return to  college campuses.

Lisette headed toward the frat houses.

Everything else might suck, but at least she wouldn't descend into madness.  Gifted ones—men  and women like Lisette who had been born with extremely advanced DNA  (the origins of which remained unknown)—were protected from the more  corrosive aspects of the virus.  They also possessed various and  assorted gifts that humans and vampires didn't.  Like the telepathy that  let her hear the revolting thoughts of the vampires stalking a young  couple deep in their cups. 

Two vamps.  Two potential human victims who had no idea they were about  to be fed upon by creatures who delighted in inflicting pain.  

Immortal Guardians had recently taken an unprecedented step and begun  attempting to recruit vampires who had not yet succumbed to the madness.   

These guys didn't fall into that category.  Bad news for them.  Good  news for her.  She really wasn't in the mood for conversation.  

Lisette raced forward so fast she blurred, little more than a breeze  humans couldn't follow with their eyes.  Zipping past the young couple,  she barreled into the vampires like the athletes she so loved to watch  in the NFL and drove them back behind the nearest building.  

The vampires hit the ground hard as she released them.   

Out of sight of the humans, she drew her shoto swords.  

The vamps' eyes lit up like candles, glowing blue and green.   

Her own, she knew, glowed a vibrant amber.  

"Immortal Guardian," one vampire sneered, making the title an insult. 

She saluted him with a sword as the vamps drew bowie knives longer than her damned forearm. 

One good thing about vampires:  Most were college students who had been  turned after spending most of their leisure time lounging on their  asses, gaming, texting, and surfing the Internet.  Few had any real  skill with weapons. 

Unlike Lisette, who had trained with a master swordsman. 

The vampires attacked simultaneously.  Shoto swords met bowie knives,  swept them aside, and struck flesh.  Howls of pain pierced the night.   The pungent aroma of wild fury mixed with fear suffused the air,  accompanied by the metallic scent of blood. 

One vampire circled around behind her. 

Lisette merely turned to the side and continued to swing her swords,  striking metal, metal, flesh, metal, flesh, flesh, flesh.  The more  blood she drew, the more careless they became, at last allowing her to  strike major arteries. 

They dropped to their knees, spewing epithets and slavering like rabid  dogs as they bled out faster than the virus that infected them could  repair the damage.  Weak and furious, they continued to cut the air with  their weapons.  

Lisette took a couple of steps backward and waited as they collapsed and  drew their last breaths.  It would've been a hard thing to watch had  she not heard their twisted plans for the inebriated couple. 

A moment passed.  

Their bodies began to shrivel up like mummies as the virus devoured them  from the inside out in a desperate bid to continue living.  Dr. Melanie  Lipton had told Lisette this virus behaved like no other on the planet,  and the proof lay—disintegrating on the ground—before her. 

She glanced around to ensure no humans loitered nearby. 

"Don't do it," she counseled herself softly as a compulsion grew within her. 

Yet again, the words didn't stop her. 

Sighing, she looked up and searched the rooftops around her, waiting to  see if a dark, winged figure would separate itself from the shadows. 

It didn't. 

"You knew he wouldn't be there," she muttered with disgust, and bent to retrieve the bowie knives. 

"Who wouldn't?" a deep voice queried softly. 

Gasping, she straightened and spun around.  "You." 

Just as she had imagined a thousand times, a tall figure emerged from  the darkness and slowly approached her.  Damned near seven feet tall, he  towered over her five-foot six-inch form.  Dark leather pants.  No  shirt.  Just a leanly muscled form bereft of hair except for the raven  tresses that adorned his head and fell beneath his shoulders. 

Behind him spread beautiful wings that would span twelve or fourteen  feet when fully extended.  Nearly translucent, the feathers that graced  them were the same tan as his skin at the wings' base and darkened to  black at their tips.  Her fingers curled as she remembered touching  them.  Just once.  So soft.  Like the hair on a newborn baby's head. 

"Zach," she breathed.  The last time she had seen him he had saved her life. 

Stopping several feet away, he closed his eyes for a moment.  "You remember my name." 

"Of course I do," she said, heart racing.  "It's only been four months." 

His eyes opened, so dark a brown they were nearly black.  "Is that how long it's been?  Four months?" 

She nodded. 

"Who were you looking for?" he asked. 

"You," she admitted, though she knew she shouldn't.  

A month ago, when curiosity and no recent sightings had driven her to  ask about this intriguing, yet formidable immortal, Seth had not reacted  well.  Face dark with rage, he had instructed her to forget Zach and to  stay away from him. 

Zach tilted his head to one side.  "Why?" 

"I . . . " Can't stop thinking about you.  "I wanted to apologize." 

"For what?"  

Was that moisture forming on his forehead?  Even immortals her  age could regulate their body's temperature without thinking about it.   Though the night was unusually warm, his body should be cool. 

"For what?" he asked again. 

She swallowed hard, wishing now she had thought of another answer.  This  man possessed almost as much power as Seth.  Pissing him off probably  wasn't a very good idea. 

He glanced to the side, as though he heard something she couldn't.  "I  don't have much time," he murmured, and returned his attention to her. 

"I wanted to apologize because . . . I think I said something that made Seth angry at you." 

His eyes flashed golden.  "What?" 

Thunder rumbled overhead, drawing her wary gaze.  "After we fought  Donald's mercenaries that last time, I asked Seth why he didn't just do  what you did when you came to my rescue and kill all of our enemies with  a thought instead of letting us risk our existence in battle with  them."  She shook her head.  "The question seemed to anger him."  An  understatement.  "But that anger seemed to be directed at . . . you."  

A shadow formed on Zach's chest. 

No.  Not a shadow.  A large bruise.  Another darkened the area around one eye. 

"I thought . . . "  

A long gash, like that cut by a whip, streaked across his chest, parting the bruise.  

What the hell? 

Her gaze darted all around them, seeking but finding no assailant.  "I  thought," she stuttered, "that might be why I haven't seen you around."   More gashes opened on his flesh as he stared at her, his handsome face  expressionless.  "I thought Seth might have told you to stay away."  An  ugly abrasion formed on his temple.  Blood trailed down to the edge of  his strong jaw and drip, drip, dripped onto his broad shoulder.  She  took a step forward.  "Zach, what's happening to you?" 

In what seemed like seconds, bleeding lash marks striped his arms,  shoulders, chest, and abdomen.  His jaw clenched as, beneath her  horrified gaze, bones in his wings began to break. 

Swearing, she raced to his side, swords raised to combat . . . whoever the hell was doing this to him. 

Feathers fluttered to the ground at his feet as he  staggered.  Those still attached to his wings began to glisten with  crimson liquid as wound after wound appeared. 

"Who's doing this?" she shouted, panic threatening.  Who could move so fast that even she couldn't see them? 

"I can't stay," he whispered, blood painting his teeth and staining his lips. 

"Who's doing this to you?" she repeated urgently.  "How can I help you?" 

He shook his head.  "You can't.  I can't believe you would even want to, knowing . . . " 

"Knowing what?" 

He grunted as another bone snapped. 

"Zach!" 

His eyes rolled back as his knees bent. 

Lisette dropped her swords and thrust her arms out to catch him as he sank toward the ground. 

A warm breeze washed over her as he vanished inches before they touched. 

Shaken, she stared down at her empty arms.  "Zach?" 

Turning in a circle, she waited for whatever unseen force had attacked him to turn its attention on her and begin inflicting wounds. 

It didn't. 

"Zach!"