Heat of the Night(23)
Author: Sylvia Day

Connor pulled her upright and tilted her chin skyward, opening her airways to facilitate deep breaths. "You’re brave, sweetheart." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I’m proud of you. Now, let’s go."

One foot in front of the other. Stacey knew she could make it in baby steps. At least she thought so until they reached the door to the office and one of the men intercepted them.

"You might want to keep the lady out, sir," he said.

It was then Stacey realized the dirt splattered on the glass was blood. And that was only a miniscule amount of the volume of gore that covered what she could see of the front desk area.

She gagged.

"You can’t throw up," Connor growled, clamping a hand over her mouth and dragging her away.

His voice came low and rough by her ear. "The authorities are going to investigate this. You can’t leave any biological evidence behind. You understand? Nod, if you understand."

Stacey couldn’t move. She was frozen in place by the horror of what she’d seen.

"Okay." He picked her up and moved her out to the public curb. "Let’s get you back to the car.

We’ll lock you in. You keep the gun at the ready…"

Struggling, she managed to get him to set her down. "I can do this," she promised. "I can help you."

"You’re a wreck," he said. "You’re going to get yourself arrested and charged with murder."

"I’ll be your lookout." Stacey watched him shake his head. Setting her hand on his chest, she said,

"I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t help you."

"You can help me by calling Aidan back and bringing him up to speed." Connor cupped her face and stared down into her eyes. The emotion in the liquid depths was visible even in the darkness.

"You are a precious, cheery light in my life. I want to keep you that way. Let me protect you from this much, at least."

She considered that a moment, but couldn’t fight the feeling she was letting him down. Then she glanced over his shoulder at the front desk and her stomach churned violently.

"Yeah, you’re right," she admitted. "I can’t take it.

Take me back to the car. I’ll make the phone call."

Connor put his hand at the small of her back and directed her toward the Magnum with strides so long she had to jog to keep up.

"I’m sorry," she said, as he unlocked the door with the remote and assisted her into the passenger seat.

"For what? For doing the right thing? For knowing your limits?" He bent down and looked her in the eye. "I admire you, sweetheart. I’m not disappointed."

Straightening, he said, "I’ll be back. Keep the gun ready in your lap. Call Aidan."

He shut the door and reactivated the alarm system with the remote. And then he was gone.

Stacey ignored the hands-free system in favor of direct use of the handset. Aidan answered immediately. "What have you got?"

"Hey it’s me."

Aidan’s voice softened. "Hey, Stace. What’s going on?"

"We found the car. The driver’s dead. Decapitated in the trunk. Someone’s dead in the office. Or multiple someones. I couldn’t go in. There’s so much blood. T-tons of it. Ev-verywhere—"

"Shh, it’s okay. We’ll take care of it. How are you holding up? You doing alright?"

"Yeah." She blew out her breath and glanced toward the lobby.

"Where’s Connor?"

"He went to see which rooms are occupied."

The office was located on the corner created by the driveway and the road. Two solid walls of the lobby were glass, providing a view to the interior from the street and also from the motel itself.

Various brochure stands and a cloth-draped table with a coffeemaker atop it blocked the lower view to the inside. As she watched, Connor spoke to one of the men, who nodded in reply and then headed toward her.

"Where are you?"

"He locked me in the car."

"Good. Sit tight. There are others on the way.

They’ll be there shortly."

"C-Connor—" Her voice broke.

"Don’t worry about him," Aidan said firmly. "I’ve fought beside him a long time, Stace. He’s the best soldier I know. If it were my child, I wouldn’t choose anyone but him to help me. He’s just that damn good."

She gave a jerky nod.

"Stace? You okay?"

"Yes. Sorry. I forgot you can’t see me." A crazed little laugh escaped her. "I can’t believe this afternoon I was baking a pie." And making love with a man who makes me weak in the knees.

"Hang in there. Once we get the motel secured, you can ride the chopper back."

Shaking her head, she said, "No. I have to be there when they find Justin."

Aidan’s sigh was audible. "Keep listening to Connor, then."

"Of course."

They disconnected. Stacey was left with a heavy silence and a guard by her door. She realized that her heart was racing madly and her breathing was shallow, both reactions were making her lightheaded.

"Jesus," she muttered, forcing herself to breathe slow and easy. "Get a grip, Stace."

A glimmer of light caught her eye.

Already on edge, her head swiveled to the left where the edge of the road met a slight embankment spotted with trees.

Rachel stood there with a horror of a grin, her once-beautiful face a nightmare of scratches and gouges that would have killed a human. She was missing a chunk of her scalp, the flesh torn so deeply bone was visible.

But that wasn’t what caused Stacey to scream.

The full measure of her terror was for her son, who hung limp and unconscious in one of Rachel’s arms. The woman’s other hand was occupied by a wicked looking sword.

The guard, alerted by her piercing cries, spotted the macabre pair. Yelling into his headset, he charged in their direction. Stacey struggled with the door, feeling frantically for the lock, cursing in frustration until the damn thing gave way and freed her. Stumbling out, she gasped as Connor flew past. She attempted to follow, stepping around the bumper only to gag violently.

The guard’s decapitated head rolled to a halt at her feet, his sightless eyes and gaping mouth forever frozen in terror.

Looking up, she saw at least a half dozen of the grinning, ghoulish creatures descending on Connor in a swarm. His blade glinted and flashed with extraordinary speed, his two-fisted swinging dismembering limbs left and right. He fought in a moving circle of steel, spinning and arching in a fatal dance. More camouflaged guards ran up the short rise, creating a scene straight out of a horror flick.

Stacey took in the awesome display in a daze, marveling at the grace and power with which Connor moved. He was so big, yet his agility and speed were impressive. It gave her confidence to see him engaged with such skill and focus.

Without him, she was certain she’d be paralyzed with fear. With him, she felt capable of anything.

Taking off at a run, Stacey thrust her right hand into her windbreaker and wrapped it around the grip of the Glock. She yanked it free and took comfort in its weight. She’d never fired a gun in her life, but she was more than ready to shoot the hell out of something now.

Stumbling over a tree root, Stacey fell to her knees in a jarring, painful impact. She lumbered to her feet and pressed onward, but the brief delay was fortuitous. It slowed her down, affording her the time to spot the sole of a shoe beside a tree to her right.

Justin’s shoe.

Stacey ran toward it. Picked it up. Looked beyond it. Saw the other.

That one was still attached to her son.

"Justin!" She scrambled over to him, her free hand feeling along his body for injuries. For signs of life. He was so pale, his eyes so bruised looking, the side of his face caked with dried blood spatter. She set the gun down and shook his shoulders. "Justin! Baby, wake up. Wake up, baby, please! Justin!"

She thumped his chest and slapped his cheeks.

"Baby. Baby, don’t do this to me. You wake up!

Justin!"

He coughed and Stacey cried out in relief, her vision blurring with tears, her heart aching as he curled up on his side and groaned. She was so focused on him she failed to see the approaching danger until it was too late. A sharp, deep pain struck her arm, then an icy chill spread through the muscle. She screamed and flailed wildly.

A feral, masculine roar filled the air. There was a brief glimpse of golden hair, then Rachel was yanked upwards and tossed away as if she weighed nothing. The damaged woman rolled away with a gurgling laugh, leaving Stacey to find the massive syringe that hung from where it pierced her biceps.

"I will return for what is inside you," the woman hissed, leaping to safety with preternatural strength when Connor lunged blade first after her.

"You f**king bitch!" Stacey screamed, reaching for the gun and falling to her back.

Connor tackled Rachel and twisted along the ground with her. Stacey struggled for a clean shot, but as the unbearable chill moved up her arm and into her brain, she knew she was going to pass out.

Just as blackness began to narrow her vision, Rachel reared up and provided a perfect target.

Aiming between her spread legs, Stacey fired one round after another, emptying the clip into Rachel’s brutalized body. The woman jerked with each impact, then fell to the ground.

Laughing.

As Stacey lost consciousness, that laugh followed her into oblivion.

Chapter 15

"How are you doing, champ?" Connor asked, as he settled onto Stacey’s couch next to Justin and handed him an oversized mug of hot chocolate.

"I’m freezing." Dark shadows rimmed the boy’s dilated eyes and his skin bore unhealthy pallor—

signs of shock. A lock of brown hair fell over his brow, making him appear lost and far younger than his fourteen years.

"I’ll get you another blanket."

The front door was open, making the chill worse, but McDougal’s men were still clearing out and Justin didn’t want to go to his room. He preferred the heavy foot traffic and the drone of the ignored television, because it made him feel safe to be surrounded by so many people.

"Thanks, Connor."

The gratitude on Justin’s face hit Connor hard. The Elders would pay for what happened tonight.

Dearly.

"You’re welcome."

Pushing to his feet, Connor moved toward the hallway and Justin’s room. The boy had been given a dose of propranolol in the chopper and he would continue to take the medication four times a day for the next ten days. The "pill to forget"

was still experimental, but clinical trials offered hopeful results and Connor had his fingers crossed the drug would work its magic on Justin.

The boy would still remember the events, but the emotions behind the memories would not be there. His recollections would be detached from his feelings, making him an objective observer more so than an emotionally scarred victim.

Healers in the Twilight would help with the rest.

Connor was just opening the bedroom door when Aidan stepped out of Stacey’s bedroom.

"How’s she doing?" he asked, his gut tightening.

"She’s stable, although still unconscious." Aidan stepped closer. "There’s something in her brain, Bruce. It’s small—about the size of a grain of rice—but it’s foreign. There’s no telling how her body will react to it over time."

Reaching a hand out, Connor braced his weight against the wall and sucked in a deep breath.

"Fuck… man." He gazed at his friend helplessly.

"Do we know what it is?"

"She’s talking in her sleep—" Aidan winced, "—in the language of the Ancients."

" What?" Running a hand through his hair, Connor groaned. "How do we get it out of her head?"

"Medically, we can’t. Not here in this plane, not without killing her. Humans don’t have the technology."

The door to the bedroom opened and a man peaked out. "She’s conscious."

Connor straightened. "Can I tell her son? Can he see her?"

"She’s lucid," the man said.

"Tell her I’ll be there in a minute, okay?" Connor looked Aidan. "I have to get Justin."

Aidan nodded and Connor hurried back to the living room.

"Hey," he said, nearing the sofa. "Your mom’s awake."

"Can I see her?" Justin sat up from his reclined position and set his half-empty mug on the coffee table.

"Yeah, come on." Connor helped dig him out from under the three or four blankets he had on and walked with him back to Stacey’s room.

They entered the darkened space as quietly as possible. Beside the bed, various monitors beeped and flashed with lights. Stacey lay bundled in the middle, a tiny, fragile form that made Connor’s chest tighten.

"Hi, baby," she whispered to Justin, holding out her arms to him. Justin immediately climbed up beside her and began sobbing. Stacey joined him, wrapping her arms around her son and pressing her teary cheek to the top of his head.

The sight made Connor’s eyes sting. He looked away and found Aidan by the door. His friend gestured him over and Connor went, glad to be distracted from the emotion of the scene behind him. Emotion that was killing him inside, twisting through his gut like a knife.

"I spoke with her briefly," Aidan whispered. "She says Rachel intends to return for that thing in her head. Whatever it is, they think it’s safer with us than them."

Connor’s entire body tensed. "Or else they think we’d destroy it if it weren’t inside something we couldn’t bear to lose. Tell me McDougal’s men found Rachel."

"They didn’t." Aidan’s countenance was grave.

"They’ve been searching the area since you left.

There’s no trace of her. Despite her injuries, she managed to escape."

"Fuck!"

"Watch the language," Stacey admonished.

He turned to look at her. She stared at him with glistening eyes and puckered her lips in a kissing gesture. A low sound of longing rumbled in his throat.

"I don’t know what to do," he said, facing Aidan again. "I don’t know where I should go, or what I should do, or how I should feel."

"You do what I did," Aidan said. "You forget the