Dark Protectors: Provoked Part 4

Mason cleared his throat. About sixty years old and honorably discharged from the military, he'd somehow become the unofficial leader of the group. Even with his gray hair to his shoulders, his bearing confirmed his military background, which was as far as he'd go in talking about his past. Everyone had learned not to ask.

He rested calloused hands on the table. "Did you call the sheriff about last night?"

"No." Amber shook her head. Butch had argued they should call the police. "But I'll head over there later in the morning and give some type of a report, though considering he's related to Hanson, I don't know what good it'll do." Besides, she couldn't prove that Hanson's men had messed with her car, so the trip didn't seem worth the effort. Also, Kane hadn't really kidnapped her, so why bother filing a complaint about him? But she'd promised Butch, so she'd go.

Mason nodded. "I'll go with you."

A tingle warmed the back of Amber's scalp. A slight pain, more of a tickle, but something strong enough to catch the breath in her throat.

She started to turn just as the front door ripped from the hinges and flew hard into the stairs. Splinters cascaded in all directions. Leaping to her feet, she pivoted to put her body between June and the threat. Mason was faster, reaching the end of the table and settling his stance.

The wind threw snow to cover the wooden floor.

Two men stomped inside. Huge men, they wore black uniforms with an odd silver insignia across the left breast. White-blond hair and deep black eyes made them almost twins, but their faces lacked similarity. Large and trim, their shoulders drew back as if at attention. The one in the lead lifted his head and sniffed the air. Seconds later he zeroed in on her, sharp canines flashing in a smile. "Destroyer."

The tingle exploded in her head. She staggered back. Sparks flashed so hard behind her eyes her eyelashes singed. Pain, internal and complete, compressed her lungs.

She shook her head with a whimper.

Mason leapt for the guy, one hand going to the jugular, the other punching to the gut. The guy growled, slamming a fist on Mason's head. Her friend went down hard.

June screamed, and Mildred clutched her chest.

Sucking in a deep breath, Amber crept toward Mason and dropped to one knee. A sigh of relief escaped her as she checked for the pulse in his neck, even as agony spurted behind her eyes. She glanced up at the guy in front. "Who are you?"

His eyes morphed to yellow and then back to black.

She gasped, leaning over Mason to shield him. Shaking her head, she shoved down bile. Okay. Something was going on with her head and eyes. Some sort of extreme migraine. Grandma Hilde had migraines. Maybe the condition was hereditary, and Amber's escape of them had ended.

The guy grabbed her arm, yanking her up. "We have orders to take you, Destroyer, but killing you is permissible." Rough and gravelly, his voice pa.s.sed beyond hoa.r.s.e.

Permissible? Who talked like that? What the h.e.l.l? She swallowed. "What am I, some sort of prize in a nutso scavenger hunt?" Kane had called her a demon destroyer. "What is really going on?"

The long fingers around her arm tightened, and she bit her lip to keep from wincing. No way would she give the jacka.s.s the satisfaction. His fingers chilled her flesh even through the shirt.

He leaned down, breath somehow cold against her ear. "Leave with us now, or we kill everyone here. With great pleasure."

Amber stilled and glanced at her family. Mason was unconscious, and not one of the elderly ladies could take on two huge guys. A vibration uncoiled in her gut-fear. She'd never truly felt terror until that moment. She forced her face into calm lines and whispered back, "What do you want with me?"

"We're going to kill you." His soft tone matched hers. "At some point. But first, we will figure out your gifts."

A shiver shook her shoulders. "I don't have gifts." Besides having the greenest green thumb around, she had no true talents, or the last job she'd take to pay Grandma Hilde's hospital bills wouldn't have been in a Western bar.

"Let's kill them anyway." The other guy ground out his words as if gravel lodged in his throat. "They've seen us."

Okay. There didn't seem to be any way to reason with them. She was a pacifist, but she'd protect her family with any means necessary. If she kicked the guy holding her and he went down, did she have enough strength to take down his buddy?

She'd left her ballpoint pen in the car.

Her thoughts crawled through her brain as if mud had been inserted in her skull. What was wrong with her? She shook her head and focused. If nothing else, she needed to get the guys away from her friends. "Let's go now, and I won't fight you." For now. Once she was away from June and the others, she'd figure something out.

The one holding her nodded and jerked her toward the open doorway. "I'll take her out, and you get rid of these people."

The other guy purred and pleasure lit his dark eyes.

Heated air spiraled down Amber's throat. "No." She wrenched away from the brute, yet he held tight, tugging her toward the doorway.

Dawn light glinted off the snowy entryway, peaceful and serene, even with the freezing air riding its beams. Amber folded at the stomach, her b.u.t.t out, struggling in his grasp. "I'm not leaving them to die."

"Yes, you are," he said in a hoa.r.s.e monotone, pulling her into the morning.

"No, she isn't." Strong and dark, Kane stood on the porch, long coat flapping in the wind.

Her kidnapper halted and released her arm. "Kayrs."

CHAPTER 5.

Relief rushed through Amber so quickly she stopped struggling, her eyes widening on Kane. Two seconds later, her brain kicked in, and she shot a kick toward the guy's knee. Her foot hit to the side and bounced off like she'd attacked a brick wall.

With a hiss, he took a step forward and swept his hand toward her head.

She ducked.

Then Kane was on him, grabbing the guy around the neck and throwing him into the living room. He settled his stance, his back to Amber. "Leave, now."

The other guy in black smiled again and dropped into a crouch. "Killing a Kayrs will make me a legend. Hand-to-hand?"

"No." Kane yanked out a glowing gun and shot the guy in the chest. Green lasers rippled from the weapon, impacting the man. The jerk stumbled back, blood squirting from the wounds. "You should watch more movies, a.s.shole," Kane muttered. Three steps had Kane at the end of the stairs, gun pointed at the man rising to his feet. "Where's my brother?"

"Dead." The guy lifted his chin, his lips tipping.

Kane shot him in the knee.

The guy fell to his one good knee, a low groan escaping his destroyed voice. "Still dead."

Kane's shoulders vibrated. "We both know that's not true." He spoke softly, a promise of death in the low tones. "You know who I am?"

"Yes. Kane Kayrs . . . the smart one. Useless in a fight." Grabbing a sofa-end, the man shoved to his feet.

Kane chuckled, the sound emerging harsh. "Right. I've spent centuries learning your anatomy. There's a reason you sound like a Halloween ghoul, and I know all about making your vocal cords hurt even more. I can keep you alive for months during torture. Maybe years."

Yellow swirled in the guy's eyes again, and his face paled. "Possibly. But I'm sure it's nothing compared to what your brother goes through on a daily basis. No matter what you do, no matter whom the king sends, you'll never get the youngest Kayrs back in one piece."

Kane's head jerked up. "Thank you."

Surprise had the other guy stilling. "For what?"

"Confirming he's alive." Kane fired three strange green shots into the guy's neck and sent him sprawling into the old brick fireplace. Turning toward her, Kane's face lacked the charm from earlier, leaving a hard predator in its place. "Believe me now?"

"No." She choked, coughing and glancing from the two downed men to Kane. "I don't understand what's going on. What is going on?"

"What's going on"-Kane tucked the gun in his coat-"is that I have to decapitate these two, and then we need to get on the road. More demons will be coming."

Jesus. Maybe she'd taken him too literally. Maybe "demon" meant some sort of weird cult. "So these guys are demons?" Regardless of their affiliations, and death threats, she couldn't let Kane cut off their heads. They were dead. Someone needed to call the sheriff. Though, what could the two dead guys possibly have wanted with her?

"Yes, these are demons." Kane removed an eight-inch double-edged knife from his boot. "Surely you sensed them-your head has to hurt."

Actually, her head had stopped hurting the instant Kane shot the second guy. What was up with that? She dropped to the stairs and pressed a hand to her heated forehead. "I'm fine. Though now I'm really hot." Biting her lip, she barely kept from swaying.

Kane lifted an eyebrow and glanced at her face. He reached out, placing a cool palm over her forehead. "You're burning up." Stepping back, he rubbed his chin. "Interesting."

No wonder her head had hurt so badly earlier-she was coming down with the flu. "I don't see how my being sick interests you." She needed to get a grip on reality and call the police.

He shook his head. "No. You're not sick. You were fighting their powers just like white blood cells fight any infection in your body, resulting in a fever. d.a.m.n. I wish I could test your blood right now."

His eyes sharpened, his focus solely on her as if he'd forgotten all about the men he'd just killed.

Mason stirred and shoved to a seated position. His blue eyes took in her, the downed men, and Kane. "What in the h.e.l.l?"

Kane eyed him. "You in charge?"

"I used to be in charge in the military. Here at home? Depends on the day." Mason lurched to his feet.

"I'm the good guy"-Kane swept his hand toward the two dead men-"they're the bad, and we need to get going."

"Sure." Mason leaned against the wall, his face pale, his shoulders down. "I'm confused."

He probably had a concussion. Amber pivoted to shield Mason. "You'll be all right. We'll get some help." Even though Kane had killed two men, something in her whispered he wouldn't hurt her. Just like a psycho fan wouldn't hurt the object of his affection. Well, until he did. s.h.i.t.

The odd tickle in the back of her head sprang to life.

Seconds later, the man Kane had shot in the torso leapt up, arms encircling Kane's chest and knocking him into the wall.

Amber shrieked. How did the guy get up after being shot three times?

Kane snarled. Fangs ripped down from his mouth. He blinked twice, and contacts fell from his eyes. Deep violet swirled with black as he gave a cry from h.e.l.l, arms shooting up to break the guy's hold, his head darting forward with a head b.u.t.t. He impacted with the crunch of bones breaking.

The other guy went down again.

June cried out, "Devils. Oh my G.o.d. Devils."

The pain ebbed in Amber's head, but her gaze remained on Kane's fangs. He had metallic violet eyes. Reality took several long seconds to arrive. Could he be wearing some intricate costume? If so, why in the world would he do that? "You look like a vampire."

Irritation swirled through the odd shine of his eyes. "Of course I'm a vampire." He dropped to one knee and flipped the unconscious man facedown. Quick motions had his knife plunging in the center of the neck before Kane sliced left and right.

Decapitation sounded like fabric tearing. Who knew. Amber swayed, the blood deserting her head.

Kane grunted at the last pull of the knife, and the guy's head rolled toward the living room, thumping along the uneven floor. Blood spurted out on the way and left a trail of glistening red. The body relaxed in death.

Amber gagged and stumbled back against the wall. Bile rose quickly, and she shoved the nausea down, her brain fuzzing.

Without bothering to wipe off the blade, Kane rose and stalked toward the other fallen man. His movement was measured and sure, his flak boots clomping rhythmically with each deadly step. Blood dripped from the blade and dotted the floor with splatters.

"No," Amber whispered. Her knees trembled with the urge to run, but her feet wouldn't cooperate.

Kane leaned over and plunged the knife into the guy's throat, sawing until the head shoved free with a squish of sound.

Air whispered by Amber's arms as Mason rushed by, syringe in hand. Panic fired her brain to life again. She reached out to stop him and missed. Jumping forward, the ex-soldier pushed the needle into Kane's neck.

Roaring, Kane reared up and flipped around. Mason flew into the side of the couch and dropped to the floor, inches away from the dead guy.

Kane's eyes morphed black through the violet. Fangs dropped lower than before, and rage cut into his hard face.

Oh, Mother Earth. Amber gasped, her head jerking to the side. That was no costume.

Growling, blood dripping from where it had sprayed across his jaw, he pried the syringe out of his neck. "What?" He staggered forward, his head rolling to the side.

"Horse tranquilizer," Amber whispered.

The black of Kane's eyes completely covered the violet. He dropped to his knees and dented the floor. The fangs retracted. His dark hair flew as he shook his head like a dog with a face full of water. "We need to . . . go." Swaying, his eyes shut and he plunged face-first onto the wooden floor slabs.

For a moment, n.o.body moved.

Mason staggered to his feet. "June, go get four stakes and some rope. Run."

The ex-dentist nodded, grabbed her cane, and hobbled from the room.

Amber ran a hand through her hair. The smell of blood and death threatened to suffocate her. "We can't kill him. That's not who we are." Vampire or not, Kane was alive. And her family did not kill. The fact was even listed in the charter for their community.

Mason rubbed a swelling bruise on his jaw, his eyes hard. "We're not going to kill him. The sun is."

Wet and cold snow permeated his body before Kane's mind cleared. They'd removed his coat. He opened his eyes to a cloudy sky. He lay on his back on the frozen ground, arms and legs stretched and secured tight to rusty posts. The wind whispered through evergreens and pines, spraying snow across his face. The sun lit the eastern sky with the golden hue of a western winter, its tendrils of light beginning to wander through the gray. The light crept closer to his booted feet.

He shook his head and winced as barbells ripped behind his eyes. Good G.o.d. What had been in that syringe?

Forcing his chilled hand into a fist, he yanked against the restraint. Nothing happened. Whatever they'd given him was still slugging through his veins. If his brothers could see him now, there'd be no living at headquarters. Ever again.

Grimacing, he turned his head toward the main house. Several pairs of eyes stared out the window. "The sun doesn't hurt me," he croaked, not nearly loud enough for them to hear. At least they hadn't plunged a wooden stake into his heart. Oh, it wouldn't have killed him, but man, healing a heart took some time.

A chill swept along his skin. The snow spread far, coating a decrepit wooden fence about a mile away. Sighing, he glanced at the sun visible through a row of bristlecone pines. At some point, the light would hit him. What would the humans do when nothing happened?

A struggle sounded from the farmhouse porch. He turned his head again.