Tempted by the Night Page 6

  “I…well, Marisa…I haven’t been completely honest about—”

  It was all she could do to keep her outraged reaction to something less than a shout. Clamping her teeth together, she glared up at him and gave him punctuating shoves in his oh-so-solid chest. “Why—am—I—not—surprised! Have you been honest about anything?”

  “Okay, look,” he whispered, lifting his hands. “It’s not what you think. And I’m trying—it’s just a little complicated, and dangerous. Marisa, what I’m involved in is really…it’s dangerous.”

  “I’m getting that,” she muttered, and removed her hands from his chest before they got too settled there. The light filtered over his thick blond hair, giving him a moonbeam halo. A silvery glaze touched his nose and chin and kissed his lips. Damn, it was difficult to ignore how gorgeous he was in the uneven light—dark and shadowy and powerful, yet soft and glowing and sexy. And earnest, as he began to talk her off the ledge.

  “The thing is,” he explained in a low, rapid-fire tone, “I sort of alluded to this earlier. I’m not back here by chance. I was sent here by some guys I know from Envy. They wanted me to do something, and since I’m from River Vale and know the area and the people, they thought I’d be the best person to do it without—er—drawing attention. And so, when I got here, I left the equipment—it’s contraband, Marisa; dangerous stuff that if the snoot were to find, well…there’d be a lot of shit hitting the fan. So I left it outside in case I got nabbed, and besides—I didn’t want to leave it with anyone here at River Vale and put them in danger as well.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s called an NAP—network access point. It’s for a… Dammit, Marisa, the less you know, the safer you are.”

  “Tell me. I let you into the secret room—against my better judgment—even though you weren’t nearly as injured as you led me to believe. I’m the only one living besides the Waxnickis who know about—”

  “Did you say Waxnicki?” Luke grabbed her arms, gaping at her. The whites of his eyes glowed large in the low light.

  “You know them?” She fixed her crooked glasses.

  “They’re why I’m here. They’re the ones who sent me.”

  “Lou and Theo sent you?”

  His lips twitched. “How many Waxnickis do you think there are?” The tension seemed to leave him, his grip on her arms relaxing into something more like a caress. Then he released her abruptly. “So you know the Waxnickis. Well, I guess that makes things a little easier.”

  “They built the safe-room for Grandma Nell and Dad. He was…he was part of something called the Resistance.”

  Luke gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I should have known. That secret door contraption has Lou and Theo Waxnicki written all over it.” He paused, then reached up to touch a lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “So you’ve known about them all along. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  Marisa’s heart tripped a little at the way his voice dropped. “What did they send you here to do? Are you part of the Resistance too?”

  He nodded. “They sent me to set up the NAP. It’s a weatherproof device that sits high on a building—usually on a rooftop—and runs on solar power. It’s hardly larger than a dictionary, so no one would see it from the ground. It will help the Waxnickis connect computers to each other in what they are calling the new internet. Sort of a communication system.”

  Marisa knew, at least in theory, what the internet had been. But the whole idea of being able to talk to anyone, anywhere, at any time, was mind-blowing. And while she knew the Resistance existed, she knew few details. Her father, like Luke, had wanted to protect her. The less you know, the better.

  Yeah, well, that was bullshit—but what could she do about that now?

  “So you hid the NAP outside the wall? And now you want to go get it.”

  “Right. I’m going to…I want to set it up on top of the Shelby. And then I want to take something—it’s a photograph I stole from Marck—back to Envy.”

  Something metallic clanged softly, the warning ringing with foreboding through the night. The hair shot up on the back of her neck, and Marisa nearly lurched into Luke’s arms. They’re coming, she mouthed. They found us!

  Let’s go, he replied silently, and tugged her quickly into the truck…then scrambled through, pulling her out into the darkness.

  Out beyond the walls of safety.

  Out where orange eyes glowed in the shadows.

  Chapter Seven

  * * *

  Luke could smell them. The creatures Lou Waxnicki called gangas.

  The sound of their mournful cries filtered through the night, and he couldn’t help but shiver deep inside. In the distance, perhaps only a half-mile away, he saw several pairs of glowing orange points moving closer with jerky but determined intent. The monsters’ eyes.

  He knew the horror of the creatures from being in their close proximity: the stench emanating from their destroyed bodies, the sight of the gray, rotting, sagging flesh, the horrible tone of their desperate moans.

  He’d nearly been carried off by one of them. A female monster, he thought…though Luke wasn’t certain what had given him that impression. Something about the way she moved, or her hair?

  And if a potty-mouthed woman with a bow and arrow hadn’t appeared from nowhere and nailed the creature with one of her weapons, he had no idea what would have become of him, because the zombies didn’t tear into blond people. They didn’t crack their skulls and devour their brains and flesh.

  They carried them off…to somewhere.

  “Come on,” he whispered, tugging Marisa behind him. “I left my pack over there.”

  The old mailbox wasn’t far from the enclosure, and it was tucked in the shadows of an old building with a veed-in roof and ivy that covered what remained of its brick walls. But they would have to move from the protective darkness spilled by the large oak tree and the nearby barrier and dash into broad moonlight in order to get to the hiding place.

  He kept a tight grip on her hand, still mentally berating himself for bringing her with him. But he couldn’t have left her behind for Ian Marck or Juniper to find. Yet he was damned sure it wasn’t any better an idea to have her outside the walls at night, with the zombies nearby.

  Something fell from the oak as he gauged the distance they’d have to run—a piece of bark—and landed on his shoulder. Luke glanced up, peering into the cluster of leaves and branches outlined against the dark blue sky. The hair lifted on the back of his neck. Was something up there?

  He couldn’t tell—there was no wind, yet the branches and leaves rustled lightly.

  Just fecking great. It would be his damned luck if they got past Ian Marck and avoided the zombies—only to be mauled by a wild cat lurking in the tree.

  And with that a possibility, he didn’t dare leave Marisa here in the shadow of the oak while he risked himself in the open. Damn.

  “Come on,” he said again, and pulled her after him as he dashed toward half a rusted-out car. As they dove into hiding behind the vehicle, Luke heard a soft metallic clang. It sounded just like the noise the truck door made when they climbed through the last segment of the secret passage.

  Feck. They’re on our trail. Adrenaline spiked through him, and he looked down at Marisa. She’d stilled, and her grip on his hand was tight as she turned back to see the place from where they’d emerged through the wall. But when she looked up at him from behind those sexy, nerdy glasses, her moonlit expression was remarkably calm.

  “Maybe the gangas will get them,” she muttered, squeezing between Luke and the rusty car as she tried to peer around for a better view.

  He gave a soft laugh and barely resisted pressing a good, solid kiss onto her soft lips. Later. The minute we’re out of this mess, he promised himself. “Let’s go. There.” He gestured to a random pile of rubble sprouting hairlike plugs of grass and a clump of daisies.

  But just as they were about to ease out into a swash of moo
nlight, two figures burst from the secret passage.

  “They’re out here somewhere,” Juniper said. “They have to be.”

  Marck remained silent, but Luke saw the fury and determination in his stance, and then as he stalked out of the shadows to look around the area. Marisa was tense and silent next to him, having ducked back into the hiding place as soon as their pursuers came into view. She was squeezing his hand again, and Luke swore to himself. It was only a matter of moments before they were discovered.

  What the hell was I thinking, bringing her out here?

  All Ian Marck had to do was take another three more steps in their direction and boom! It was all over. Luke would be recognized and discovered, and Marisa with him—but wait.

  “You’re my prisoner,” he breathed softly into her ear, praying the zombie groans—growing ever closer—would mask any hint of the low sound from Ian Marck’s sharp ears. “If they catch us, you’re here against your will. You’re my hostage.”

  She tensed as if to argue, then her muscles relaxed and she gave a nod. All right then, at least she wouldn’t be accused along with him.

  They crouched as low and close to the ground as possible, tucking against the rear wheel of the car as Marck and Juniper scanned the area. Neither of them were looking toward Luke and Marisa’s hiding place, and he began to hope they might have the chance to duck to a different shadow, further away…

  “Ruuuthhhhh…rrrrruuuuttthhhhh…”

  “Zombies are getting close,” Juniper said. “They can smell us.” He sounded worried. Luke liked that. Maybe the pussy would go back inside and they’d only have Ian to deal with. Maybe they’d both go back inside…although that was unlikely. Marck had his own unique way of dealing with the zombies.

  “Or maybe they smell someone else. There’s someone else here that’s been drawing them,” Marck snapped, spinning back toward Luke and Marisa’s car. “Desmond’s in River Vale, or outside it, somewhere out here.”

  The next thing Luke knew, Marck was stalking toward them, and he gripped Marisa tightly, waiting for the inevitable moment of discovery…wishing he had a weapon. Something.

  One step…two steps…Marck’s shadow fell over the car and he was close enough Luke could feel the air stirring. Marisa wasn’t breathing; she was still as stone.

  “Yo! Marck. Even an asshat like you can’t be that ass-crap clueless.”

  A new voice—that of a female—drew the attention of everyone in the area.

  Marck spun on his heel, the stony ground gritty under his foot. “What the—”

  A figure—long and lean and definitely feminine—dropped from the oak tree and landed light as a cat on her two feet. She was holding a bow, and the arrows bounced in a quiver on her back. “You’re getting soft, Ian.”

  “Zoë Kapoor,” he replied in cool tones. “Well look what the damned zombies dragged in.”

  “Hardly,” said the woman as she stepped from the shadows into the light. “One more freaking step and you’re dead, arsewipe,” she added, looking lazily at Juniper—who’d made the mistake of appearing ready to jump her. Now she had a nasty-looking arrow with a large point in her hand, and deliberately nocked it into place. Luke knew full well how capable she was of using the lethal spears to scramble the brains of any creature that might attack.

  Because, against all odds and logic, here now stood the very same bad-tempered woman who’d saved Luke from a zombie attack two years ago. And complained about it the whole time.

  Well…at least now he knew her name.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Ian said.

  But before Zoë could reply, the rrruuuthhhhh of the zombies was suddenly very close—horribly, startlingly close, and all at once, one of them tottered into view from behind a cluster of trees…only yards from Luke and Marisa. The monster was followed by three of his companions. Their orange eyes burned with need and desperation as they staggered closer, moaning for rrrruuuuuuttttthhhhhh.

  Marisa’s breathing caught up to her, and she began to tremble. Luke curved an arm around her, shielding her with his body. They smell us. They know we’re here.

  Juniper began to edge toward the protective fence, but Zoë and Marck merely looked at the monsters. “You or me, joker?” she asked finally, as the stench of rotting flesh came very close on a sudden waft of breeze. By now, Luke could see the outlines of the nearest creature’s hair, long and shaggy, and the sharp points of his overgrown fingernails.

  For a moment he considered bolting out and taking his chances with Ian Marck.

  “Go ahead,” said the bounty hunter to the archer. “I know how you like to show off.”

  He’d hardly spoken when an arrow whizzed through the air, landing dead center in the nearest monster’s forehead. The once-human creature dropped to the ground with a thud that sent up a puff of dust, and the two coming up behind him couldn’t stop in time. In a horrible parody of a clown act, they stumbled, staggered, and finally tripped over their companion.

  Not too smart—or coordinated—were those zombies.

  It would take them some time to figure out how to pull to their feet, likely pulling each other down in the process. But the danger was not yet over, for once they managed to become upright, their fury and determination would be stoked hotter.

  Marisa was still trembling, but now her eyes were wide and white as she gaped at Luke, and then back toward Zoë and her arrows.

  But before the woman could loose a second spear, Ian Marck held up a purple light. It sent out sizzling red sparks, which had the zombies freezing in their struggles to stand. Their moans died away as if strangled into silence.

  “Got a new toy, Ian?” asked Zoë. “I’ve only seen you with an orange light. You and your fuck-headed father.” When Marck didn’t deign to respond and merely held the light high enough that the zombies began to shield their eyes from it, she turned back to him. “There’s no one around here but me. I’m real damn sorry to disappoint you, joker.”

  He gave a short laugh. “There was only that one kiss, Zoë, but I have to agree—it was a disappointment.”

  “Yeah, right,” she snorted. “Dickwad. As if I’d let you put your shit-stained, murderous hands on me. You’re not my damned type.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “I know your type, Ian. She has a bloody fucking crystal embedded in her skin, doesn’t she?”

  Even from a distance, Luke saw how Ian stiffened as if caught utterly off guard…then immediately recovered. “In your immortal words: as if.”

  “So you thought you were tracking Luke Desmond?” Hey. How did she know his name? “But it was really just my tight, perky ass you and your douchebag friend were sniffing around, looking for. Like I said, you’re getting soft. And slow.”

  “I coulda swore it was two people I saw,” Juniper whined.

  “Crap on a cross, where the hell’d you find this asswad?” Zoë said to Ian. “I ought to take him down for implying I’m big enough to pass for two.”

  “For all I know, you were meeting someone here. Desmond, maybe?” said Marck.

  “I could have been, I suppose. If you really think I’d be working with someone, instead of alone like I always have and always will…but even if I were, joker, whoever that fool was’d be long gone by now. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to take a nap or something—he’d’ve retrieved his pack and got his sorry, saggy ass the damn hell away from here.”

  Luke blinked. Take a nap? Like an “NAP” nap? Retrieved his pack? Was that just a coincidence, or…

  Then suddenly, irritated with himself, he realized she’d known he and Marisa were there all along. He’d seen her shadow in the oak tree…of course she’d seen them. Had probably even heard them, talking in the middle of the secret passage. How else would she know about the pack, and the NAP?

  And why else would she be helping them?

  Did she know the Waxnickis? Or was she just covering for them out of the goodness of her heart?

  Luke stifle
d a snort. From what he’d seen and heard from the woman, that was doubtful. She was a real hard-ass. But whatever it was, she was giving him a pretty damn clear message.

  “Besides,” Zoë continued, “last I heard, Desmond was in Berch Falls.”

  Well, there we go. Considering that he’d never been near Berch Falls, that was just about as much of a confirmation Zoë Kapoor was on his side as he could get.

  Marisa was poking him, and he looked down to find her face very close to his. “She’s distracting them,” she murmured ever so softly into his ear. The soft, warm puff of her words sent prickles over his shoulders, and her glasses bumped against his temple. “Let’s go.”

  Sure enough, now that the zombies had been chased off by the purple- and red-sparked light, Zoë somehow redirected Marck and Juniper’s attention away from them. She was talking and waving her hands—every other word was a swear word—all the while edging along the wall away from Luke and Marisa’s hiding place.

  He didn’t hesitate. With a tug of her hand, he indicated the direction and they slipped out of the shadow, taking care to keep their feet soft and silent on the dirt until they reached the grass that grew around the old mailbox. Marisa was panting a little—maybe from nerves, maybe from the fast, unexpected dash—but Luke was already digging out his pack from inside the overturned mailbox.

  He held his breath, aware of Zoë’s crotchety voice doing its best to camouflage any sounds he might make when he eased open the old metal door open at the back of the mailbox. Fortunately, he’d already done it once today and knew that if he was slow and careful enough, he could push in the door with hardly a sound.

  He released his breath when the opening was wide enough for Marisa to reach in and pull out his rucksack, and then slowly pulled the door back. Heart thudding, he flashed her a quick smile and squeezed her hand.

  “Now what?” she murmured, again so very close that it felt as if her words caressed him. “Can’t go back the same way…”

  He shook his head. “Let’s go in the main entrance.”