My stomach dropped in horror as Nicky half dragged me down the hall and we saw all the doors open wide, the cells’ inhabitants gone. Although I still had no freaking clue how the vampiresses had ended up in Dracula’s cell before we’d arrived, the open doors certainly explained the number of vampires now running amuck. I hobbled along beside Nicky, my injured leg slowing me down.
We’d just reached the doors to the elevator when a searing pain tore into my shoulder, throwing me back into the wall. I heard Nicky scream my name as he caught me up and fired off a couple of rounds toward my assailant.
Startled and gasping in shock, I turned my head toward where Ian stood with his gun still raised, completely unaffected by the two bullet wounds in his chest. Ian’s throat had been torn open and blood stained the entire front of the white shirt that had come untucked from his struggle with his attacker. His lips dripped with blood and his eyes were wild—and glowed red as he lowered his head a little between his shoulders and hissed.
“Fuck me,” Nicky breathed. He scooped me up into his arms and rammed the elevator button with his elbow. When the doors slid open, we ducked inside and Nicky punched the button to close the doors. “Hang on, doll. Just hang on.”
The doors slid closed at an agonizingly slow rate as we watched in tense silence, but before the doors could meet, Ian appeared before us, fangs bared. Nicky raised his gun and pulled the trigger, but it clicked, the magazine empty. Suddenly, Alex McCain appeared behind Ian, his arm going around the agent’s neck.
“Go!” he grunted, dragging Ian from the elevator. “Get outta here!”
Nicky bolted forward and slammed his fist against the button to close the doors. And before they met, I caught a glimpse of McCain getting flung against the wall.
I sighed and let my head rest against Nicky’s shoulder as my adrenaline left me. “God, I’m tired of getting shot,” I murmured, knowing that unlike last time, I didn’t have a vampire and his ghostly girlfriend around to heal me up ahead of schedule.
Nicky dropped back against the wall and kissed the top of my head, but he didn’t say a word. He just tossed aside his gun to grab another Glock from its holster and waited. I could feel his tension in his muscles as he held me and I knew what he was thinking. This wasn’t over yet. We had no idea what the hell would be waiting for us when those doors opened again.
When the elevator jolted to a halt, I said, “Give me a gun.”
Nicky gave me a tight-lipped nod and handed me his Glock as the doors began to slide open. Then he set his jaw and squared his feet, ready to fight to the death if it meant getting me out of there. As if reading my thoughts, he tightened his arms around me and murmured, “At any cost.”
My arm came up, aiming the Glock at the opening. At the same instant, a dozen rifles clicked as the men waiting outside chambered a round.
“Hold your fire!”
I nearly sobbed with relief at the sound of a familiar voice. “Oh, God,” I moaned, my voice thick with tears. “It’s Al.”
“We’re coming out!” Nicky yelled, carrying me out of the elevator, his steps slow and wary.
As we came out, I glanced around, surprised to see how many FMA Enforcers dressed in SWAT gear filled the hallway. And on their knees lining one wall were easily two dozen Men in Black, their hands handcuffed behind them. I guess Al had taken his stand after all. And he’d had some outside help. As I looked on, Gideon appeared with two more agents, each held in a punishing headlock in the crook of Gideon’s powerful arms.
Gideon inclined his head to Nicky and me in a slight bow, then shoved the agents at the Enforcers, who quickly clasped handcuffs on them.
“I need to get her to the hospital,” Nicky barked, his steps growing more rapid now that the Enforcers were sure of our identities.
“I’ll drive them.” I glanced toward the person who’d spoken. Alex McCain. He was bloody, and his clothes were torn, but he was somehow still alive. He jerked his chin at Nicky as he strode toward us. “Looks like you could use a doctor, too.”
“No way in hell!” I yelled. “This son of a bitch is a traitor!”
Al and McCain exchanged a look. “I’ve been working as a double agent, Trish,” McCain confessed. “Al needed some eyes and ears inside. And he knew he could trust me.”
I glanced at Al to confirm what McCain had said. “But . . .” I shook my head, growing woozy.
Nicky hefted me up and held me a little closer against him. “How about that ride now?”
But before Nicky could take a step, Gideon muscled his way toward us. “I got this.”
He wrapped his arms around us, and the next thing I knew, my lungs were gasping for air in the Tale ER. The moment we appeared, a nurse rushed toward us, calling out orders that were just a jumble of words to me. Nicky was saying something to me, murmuring softly, lovingly, as they put me on a gurney, but the words sounded far away, distorted. And then I was drifting, weightless, and my world went dark.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Nicky?” I called, my mouth dry.
I felt a slender, cool hand grasp mine. “Nope, sorry, you’re stuck with me.”
I chuckled a little, still groggy from the fairy dust the doctor had given me, and turned my head, trying to focus on my friend’s saucy smile. “Hey, Red.”
“About damned time you woke up,” she said through her relieved grin. “My ass is killing me from sitting in this chair.”
“How long have I been out?” I asked, frowning.
“Three days,” she informed me. “You’d been through a helluva lot.”
Tell me about it.
“Sorry you’ve had to wait so long,” I told her, pushing up against the pillows so I was sitting.
She shrugged. “I’m just glad it’s not me for a change.”
“How is everything now?” I asked, glancing toward her belly.
Her hand smoothed lovingly over her basketball-sized bump. “Max is doing great now. No problems at all.”
“Max?” I said, grinning.
“Short for Maximus,” she explained. “Turns out that was Nate’s name . . . you know, before. He thought it might be better to change his name when he took on his assignment with the Tales.”
“I like the name Max,” I told her, nodding. “I think it’ll suit your little guy. He’s definitely a little warrior.”
“Thanks to you,” Red said. “Seriously. Thanks, Trish. For everything.”
“I’m sorry about Dracula,” I told her, meaning it. “If there’d been any other way . . .”
She nodded. “I know.”
“He said to tell you he was sorry.”
She sighed. “Nate tried to collect his soul, but it was already gone. Looks like he’s a ghost now.”
I laughed a little at the irony. A ghost. I had no doubt that he’d be well taken care of in the spirit world by the phantom who loved him, who had done everything in her power to rescue him from the darkness that had imprisoned him. I just hoped now that they had each other, they’d leave me the hell alone. “Good to know. And Ian?”
Red grunted. “Talk about poetic justice. That son of a bitch is safely tucked away in the Asylum undergoing rehabilitation for vampirism.”
My brows shot up. “The Agency didn’t want him?”
“More like he didn’t want the Agency,” Red explained. “We gave him the option. He thought he’d be better off throwing in his lot with us.”
I thought about the experiments the Agency had conducted on Dracula and God knew who else in their quest to understand us. “Wise choice.”
Red gave me a wicked grin. “Yeah, well, he might not think so after a few days with his rehabilitation counselor.”
I gave her a wary look. “Yeah?”