Underworld: Evolution Part 9

Michael admired her courage, but she didn't need to play the stoic warrior with him, not when there was something he could do to help her. He jumped to his feet and headed for the door. "Be right back," he promised.

There had to be a first-aid kit around here somewhere!

True to his word, he returned within minutes, clutching a bright red first-aid kit. "Found this in a restroom," he explained breathlessly. Selene guessed that he had sprinted all over the building before he'd found the kit.

He dropped to his knees in front of her and popped open the kit. She was struck by his obvious sense of purpose as he rummaged through the kit for what he needed. He really was a born healer, even after everything that had happened to him. She recalled how he had selflessly rescued her from drowning three nights ago and bound her wounds after Lucian had stabbed her with that spring-loaded blade of his. He didn't even know my name then, but he still risked his life to save me. He had done the same for that mortal girl who had been caught in the cross fire during the gun battle at the Metro station. Selene remembered Michael das.h.i.+ng across the platform to see to the girl, despite the bullets flying back and forth across the station. She had taken note of his bravery then. She was even more impressed now.

I've never known anyone like him.

He turned toward her, his hands full of clean dressings and antiseptic wipes. His brown eyes radiated care and compa.s.sion. She couldn't help being touched, and more, by his anxious concern for her well-being, even though she was not really in need of his ministrations. The vicious burns were already healing; all that remained of the searing pain was a faint stinging sensation. Still, she let him gently lay his hand against her cheek and turn her face toward him, so that he could see for himself that her injuries were all but pa.s.sed. He gaped in surprise as the last reddened patch of skin grew smooth and white once more. She almost laughed at his dumbfounded expression.

"See." She raised her hands to show him her unblemished knuckles. "No need."

His initial shock gave way to obvious relief. His eyes brightened as he gave her an impish grin. "You don't need much of anything, do you?"

I'm not sure, she thought, suddenly at a loss for words. The moment hung between them, laden with possibility. He put down his first-aid supplies and looked into her eyes. His deep brown orbs seemed to drink her in. Vampires didn't blush, but Selene felt her blood rus.h.i.+ng beneath his ardent gaze. She knew how much she meant to him, how much he wanted to take care of her. Not because he was a doctor, but because of the undeniable chemistry between them. For once, it seemed, their enemies were far away. No pressing danger threatened them with immediate extinction. It was just the two of them, alone together.

Selene was no virgin. Over her six hundred years, curiosity-and loneliness-had lured her into the occasional carnal encounter with another vampire; not every immortal was a pig like Kraven, after all. But such liaisons had been infrequent and always without consequence, temporary indulgences quickly put behind her. She had shared her body, but never her heart.

Now, with Michael, she didn't know what she felt. Everything had changed for her, including the ironclad code of conduct by which she had long governed her ageless existence. The prospect was both thrilling and terrifying.

Do I want this?

Taking her silence as consent, Michael leaned forward and kissed her. She responded tentatively for the first few heartbeats, then parted her lips to accept him. His own lips were warmer than any vampire lover's. Just like his blood.

He pulled her to him with surprising strength. Her pa.s.sion rose and she surrendered to the moment. Their mouths still locked in a ravenous kiss, she peeled off his jacket and the tattered remains of his s.h.i.+rt. Her hands explored his naked chest, discovering that his bullet wounds had long since healed. The unmarred flesh was hot and irresistible to her touch.

She shrugged off her voluminous trench coat, which joined the borrowed blanket upon the floor of the trailer. "Help me," she entreated huskily as she tugged on the zippers of her tight black leathers. The tailored bodysuit was like a second skin, but suddenly she couldn't get it off fast enough. Michael's skillful hands came to her a.s.sistance, and the leather slid from her body, leaving her exposed and vulnerable before his gaze. His eyes gratefully devoured every inch of her bare white skin. He gazed at her in wonder.

Selene felt a wall crumble inside her, falling away just like her discarded clothes. She fell back against the blanket and scattered pieces of clothing. Her pale arms reached out for him. Michael kicked off his soggy trousers and joined her upon the makes.h.i.+ft bed, resting his weight atop her pliant curves. Their skin brushed together in a tantalizing caress. Her fingers stroked the firm, masculine contours of his back. His hungry mouth found her breast.

There was no biting, no sinking of fangs into tender flesh. Her blood already flowed through his veins, and his through hers. Instead they made love as mortals did, gasping and panting as their intertwined bodies came together again and again. Yes, she thought rapturously, as they ascended the heights of pa.s.sion, this is how it had to be. Today she didn't want to be a vampire, a Death Dealer.

Only a woman.

Nestled in the forest, along the side of the road, the mouth of a concrete drainage tunnel protruded from the bottom of a snow-covered ridge. Ice water trickled along the floor of the tunnel, pa.s.sing through a carpet of dead leaves, silt, and animal droppings. The fetid air within the shaft stank of p.i.s.s and rot. The dank cement walls were coated with slime and mold. It was a far cry from the luxurious accommodations Marcus was accustomed to.

He dragged himself along the floor of the tunnel, retreating from the dawn. Despite the changes he had undergone of late, he was still enough of a vampire to fear the sun. Vengeance on Selene and her hybrid lover would have to wait until nightfall.

His mutilated wings sc.r.a.ped against the roof of the tunnel. They were already healing, but the sharp pains radiating through his shattered pinions stoked the anger burning within his breast. He cursed himself for letting go of the pendant when Selene had unleashed her gunfire upon him. The prize had been within his grasp, and yet he had let it slip away.

Tonight, he vowed. When the sun went down again, nothing would stop him from reclaiming the pendant-and making Selene and Michael Corvin pay for their defiance. He gnashed his fangs as he inched farther into the dark recesses of the vile tunnel.

Tonight...

Chapter Thirteen.

Sergeant Sandor Hadik was not in a good mood.

His head hurt from where that dark-haired woman had clobbered him. He was cold and wet from lying unconscious in the snow for at least an hour. A wanted fugitive was missing. And he had no idea what was going on.

How the h.e.l.l am I going to explain this in my report? he fretted. Any of it?

He and his fellow officers searched the woods for Michael Corvin and his female accomplice. Despite the brilliant sunlight filtering down through the tree branches, the morning was still bitterly cold. His breath frosted in front of his lips as he trekked through the snow. Judging from the sullen expressions on the faces of the three other men, they were just as angry and confused as he was. Fresh cuts and bruises made them look as though they had just been beaten up by a large gang of toughs, not a solitary female.

Who was that b.i.t.c.h? And how come Michael Corvin was still alive anyway? The last thing Hadik remembered was he and the other policemen filling the American lunatic full of lead. They must have hit him nearly a dozen times, yet when they had come to, their heads and battered bodies aching, they had found only a puddle of frozen blood where Corvin's body had been. What's more, two sets of tracks had led away from the site.

He tried not to think about thethird set of tracks they had seen, the ones that looked like the spoor of some ferocious beast, just as he tried not to remember the American's impossible black eyes and fangs. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered the stories his grandmother had told him when he was just a child, about ghosts and vampires and werewolves. Such things do not exist, he reminded himself. I must have been seeing things.

"Sergeant! Over here!"

The rookie, Olszanski, called excitedly. Hadik and the other men rushed to join him. They emerged from a fringe of trees to find themselves on a narrow road leading up to an old mine shaft at the base of a rocky hill. Hadik vaguely remembered a bauxite-mining operation that had been tapped out and abandoned back when he was a kid. The door to the sealed-off mine was hanging open. Although fresh snow continued to fall from the sky, he could still see the vague imprints of footprints outside the entrance of the mine.

Had Corvin and the woman taken refuge in the old tunnels? It made sense; they could hardly stay outside in this weather forever. Maybe they were in there right now?

"Follow me!" he ordered gruffly. He unclipped a flashlight from his belt and drew his service revolver. Despite his bluff manner, his nerves were on edge as they approached the unlit entrance to the mine. He was in no hurry to face either Corvin or that woman again. Those eerie black eyes and wolflike fangs haunted his memory. He glanced at the bruises on his comrades' faces. The ugly purple marks didn't make him any less spooked.

How had one woman managed to take out four armed cops?

Their flashlights probed the darkened mine. Startled gasps and exclamations burst from the men as the intersecting beams fell upon the face of an enormous wolf. Unblinking cobalt eyes glared at them. Dagger-sized fangs gleamed between the beast's open jaws.

"Holy Mother-!" Hadik almost opened fire on the wolf, before he realized that the animal was neither moving nor making any sort of sound. "Hold your fire!" he called out to the other men. "I think it's dead!"

His heart racing, he swept his flashlight beam over the s.h.a.ggy monstrosity. To his relief, he saw that the wolf-thing was hanging lifelessly inside some sort of cage. Lowering his gun, he breathed for the first time in several seconds. His shoulders drooped as he gave his heart a few minutes to slow down. Christ, he thought, that thing almost gave me a coronary!

The other cops lowered their weapons as well. Hadik figured it was a minor miracle that there weren't already bullets ricocheting around the mine. Olszanski stared at the suspended creature with wide, fearful eyes. "Sergeant?" he asked, a quaver in his voice. "What is that thing?"

h.e.l.l if I know, Hadik thought. The carca.s.s had the head of a wolf, complete with pointed ears and a protruding muzzle, but its body looked more like a man's, built for walking erect. Fearsome claws dangled at the end of the monster's sinewy limbs. It was at least eight feet tall, larger than any wolf or human he was familiar with. Some sort of ape? No, that wasn't quite right. There was something distinctly canine about the beast's head and paws. It's a werewolf, his brain shrieked at him, but he couldn't bring himself to say that word aloud. What was that old saying again? Speak of the wolf and you will see his teeth.

"Maybe it's a fake," Officer Andra.s.sy said. He had a reputation for creative thinking. "A prop for a horror movie?"

"It looks real enough to me," Hadik grunted. He swept his flashlight around the rest of the old mine shaft, which had obviously been refurbished at some point. His jaw dropped at the sight of a computerized communications center, a tray full of b.l.o.o.d.y surgical implements, and enough guns and ammunition to fight a war. Racks of automatic weapons lined the walls. Packets of whole blood rested on a nearby counter.

Oh my G.o.d, he thought. What the h.e.l.l have we stumbled into?

"It's a terrorist base!" Olszanski blurted. "Corvin and the woman...they're terrorists!"

"Or CIA," Andra.s.sy added. "He's an American, remember?"

The fourth policeman, Latja, just shook his head in disbelief.

Oddly enough, Hadik found all this talk of spies and terrorists strangely comforting. Terrorism was a fact of life, nothing supernatural about it. Unlike, say, certain mythological creatures...

In any event, his course was clear. "We need to call this in," he said decisively. "Back to our cars, on the double!" A thought occurred to him and he turned toward the rookie. "Olszanski, you stay here and watch the exit. Don't let anyone leave or enter until we get back. You got that?"

"But..." Before the fresh-faced young cop could object, a sudden wind blew the open door against the wall. The men jumped at the unexpected clang, then looked in bewilderment at the open doorway. Fallen leaves and snow came blowing into the bunker.

The cops rushed out of the mine into the open. Swirling winds whipped up the cold white powder. A loud whirring sound drew their gaze upward. They gawked in amazement at the sleek black helicopter hovering directly above them.

Andra.s.sy's CIA theory was looking better and better.

The nose of the chopper dipped toward the cops. A burst of automatic gunfire chewed up the snow in front of the men's feet. An amplified voice addressed them from the copter: "Drop your weapons and stand down. Repeat, drop your weapons." Another spray of bullets punctuated the command.

The other officers looked to Hadik for guidance. He shrugged his stocky shoulders. I know when I'm outgunned. He glumly tossed his pistol onto the snow. His fellow cops followed suit.

"Remain where you are,"the anonymous voice instructed, not bothering to identify itself. A half dozen long cables came tumbling out of the chopper, followed by a team of commandos who came sliding down the cables like G.o.dd.a.m.n ninjas or something. They wore black uniforms with no markings. Balaclavas covered their faces. Automatic rifles were slung over their shoulders.

Who? Hadik wondered impotently. Allies of the woman in black?

Boldly striking in broad daylight, the nameless commandos quickly eliminated any threat posed by the four police officers. Within minutes, Hadik found himself lying on his side on the snow, his wrists zip-tied behind his back. He strained to free himself, but the heavy-duty plastic cable ties were too strong to snap apart. He heard Olszanski and the other men grunting and swearing as well. For the second time that morning, the cops were freezing their a.s.ses off in the snow.

They were not having a good day.

At least we're conscious this time. He watched helplessly as the commandos went about their business, emptying out the converted mine with practiced efficiency. They hauled out the computers, the crates of ammo, the medical supplies, and even an overstuffed body bag that almost surely contained the s.h.a.ggy carca.s.s of the dead wolf-thing. The potential evidence was quickly loaded into the helicopter, which had touched down on the road in front of the mine entrance. By the time the commandos were done, Hadik guessed, the bunker would be stripped clean of anything remotely incriminating. I wonder if we'll ever find out what this was all about?

The armed cleanup crew finished in less than fifteen minutes. The last commando out of the mine reported to the man who seemed to be in charge, a tall, rangy individual with a military bearing. The leader nodded and removed a handful of metal disks from a pouch on his belt. The polished silver disks resembled oversize coins. He hurled them into the bunker.

Hadik heard the disks skitter across the concrete floor of the mine before coming to rest somewhere deep inside the hidden base. A faint hissing noise reached his ears.

A commando unsheathed a knife as he approached the immobilized sergeant. For a second, Hadik thought he was done for, then the masked trooper stepped behind him and neatly sliced through the ties binding the cop's hands together. As the circulation returned to his fingers, Hadik saw that other cops were being freed as well.

"If I were you, I wouldn't stick around," a commando said tersely. He spoke Hungarian without any discernible accent. "And stay away from the mine."

Don't tell me what to do, Hadik thought angrily. He rubbed his chafed wrists as he stumbled to his feet. His bones felt as if they had turned to ice. I'm getting d.a.m.n tired of being pushed around by strangers.

The commandos left as briskly as they had arrived. The helicopter lifted off from the lonely mountain road, stirring up a blinding cloud of fine white powder. Hadik and the other cops watched the chopper vanish into the sky. Like the men, the black aircraft bore no identifying insignia.

"I told you," Andra.s.sy said. "CIA."

Inside the mine, unseen by the four cops, the metal disks sprayed a fine mist from the tiny holes that had opened up along their edges. Gas fumes soon filled the bunker, which had been stripped to its bare walls. A timed mechanism caused one of the disks to split in half. Two s.h.i.+ny contacts were exposed to the volatile atmosphere inside the mine. A crackle of electricity arced between them....

The explosion destroyed what little the anonymous men had left behind. A roiling ball of flame erupted from the mouth of the mine. The acc.u.mulated snow and ice was vaporized instantly. A deafening bang rocked the morning.

"Wha-?" Hadik gasped, a second before the shock wave sent all four policemen flying backward into the woods. His head slammed into an unyielding oak and the world went black once more.

It would be hours before any of the cops stirred again.

An engine roared to life, waking Selene from a sound sleep. She sat up with a start and grabbed for her gun, but the weapon was not resting on the table next to her bed the way it usually was. In fact, there didn't seem to be a table.

Or a bed.

It took her a moment to get oriented. Right. She was naked in the back of the semitrailer, the gray wool blanket draped over her body. Her gun was with her clothing, scattered about on the floor of the trailer, surrounded by crates of engine parts. Sonja's pendant rested on the floor next to where her head had been.

"Michael?"

He was nowhere in sight, but she thought she heard him stirring outside the trailer. A closed window was built into the wall at her right. Wrapping the blanket around her, she retrieved some fresh ammo from the pockets of her trench coat and reloaded the Berettas. Then she cautiously approached the window. Wary of sunbeams, she stood to one side of the window as she slowly drew open the metal blinds. No lethal shaft of light invaded the trailer, so she took a chance and peered out the window.

Outside the trailer, several meters away, Michael was working on the engine of an old Land Rover. He had the hood up and his hands were busy performing surgery on the vehicle's innards. She wondered if he could get the abandoned Rover up and running by nightfall.

Why not? she thought. Michael is blessed with many talents.

As I learned this morning.

She watched him silently for a moment, then retreated back into the darker corners of the trailer. Sonja's pendant caught her eye and she sat down to take a better look at it. She smiled at the thought of Michael leaving it for her to find when she woke up. No doubt he had been thinking of Lucian and Sonja, the star-crossed lovers whose forbidden romance had incurred Viktor's terrible wrath, setting off long centuries of internecine warfare. Like Lucian and Sonja, she and Michael came from two different worlds, but had somehow found each other regardless. I only hope our tale ends somewhat less tragically...as unlikely as that seems.

Her thoughts drifted back to their lovemaking earlier today. Despite her earlier doubts, she felt strangely at peace with what had transpired between them. There was no turning back now. For better or for worse, she had let Michael past the barricades that had long guarded her heart. Her old life was over. All she could do now was fight for their future together. It was the end of an era, and the beginning of a risky new campaign.

Did Sonja feel this way, Selene wondered, after she slept with Lucian for the first time? She held up the crest-shaped pendant before her eyes. Dried blood caked its gilded design, marring its beauty. She frowned. Far too much blood had been spilled over this emblem for her liking.

Licking her finger, she started to clear away the clotted gore.

Click. Her fingertip accidentally depressed a concealed latch, triggering some sort of internal mechanism. Selene's eyes widened in wonder as delicate bronze blades came sliding out of the pendant, not unlike the petals of a clockwork flower. Selene was briefly reminded of the silver throwing stars she often used against werewolves, but, no, the blades were not sharp enough to serve as weapons. Rather they resembled the teeth of some sort of complicated gear, as though the opened pendant were merely a component of a larger mechanical puzzle.

But that wasn't the strangest part of her discovery. What was truly unexpected, and disturbing, was the realization that she had seen this apparatus before, a long time ago....

The dungeon was damp and cold. No more than six or seven, little Selene s.h.i.+vered beneath her woolen kirtle. The fair-haired child wandered down the gloomy stone corridor, fascinated by the gilded pendant in her hand. Torches mounted in sconces on the wall provided just enough light for her to admire the intricate runes inscribed on the newly made pendant. The s.h.i.+ny metal blades projecting from the device reflected the flickering glow of the torches. Selene thought she had never seen anything quite so beautiful.

A heavy thud caught the little girl by surprise. She spun around, terrified....

"Selene?"

She snapped back to the present, startled to find Michael sitting across from her. Somehow he had slipped back into the trailer without her even noticing. He's getting stronger, she realized; catching a Death Dealer unawares was no small matter. We still don't know the full extent of his new abilities.

"Sun's setting," he declared. Selene realized she had slept most of the day away. She knew she should get dressed; they needed to keep moving, if only to stay one step ahead of Marcus. But the forgotten memory, if that was indeed what it was, had left her deeply unsettled. She tugged the blanket tighter around her trembling body. She felt confused, uncertain, quite unlike herself. Her own past had caught her unawares.

Michael noted the difference in her. "What's wrong?" he asked anxiously.

The Sancta Helena was docked at the pier in Budapest. Lorenz Macaro heard the Danube lapping against the hull of the s.h.i.+p as he sat behind his mahogany desk in the suite above the ops center. Samuel's voice emerged from the intercom. He spoke loudly, to be heard over the whirring of the helicopter blades in the background.

"Supplies were taken, used weapons were left behind," the Cleaner reported. "The incident at the tavern occurred just before dawn. They couldn't have gotten very far."

Macaro wished he had dispatched a team to the safe house in the mountains earlier. Perhaps they could have apprehended Michael Corvin and Selene before this situation had escalated further. He glanced at an antique clock. Dusk was approaching. Marcus would soon be on the move again, as would Selene and Michael. If Marcus hadn't killed them already.

"Remain airborne for the present," he instructed Samuel. "I'm certain they'll reappear in good time."

"Yes, sir."

Chapter Fourteen.