"Why would he be digging a grave at night? And without a light?"
"There's a lot of non-humans doing this sort of stuff now, and many of them don't need lights to see at night. This guy doesn't smell human." He released my hand and knelt beside the body. "The scent lingering here is the one I chased earlier tonight. But there's also a fainter scent that's the same as the one I found near the other victims."
"So we have two vampires, who may or may not be related, working together." I studied the darkness surrounding us. "You think they could be hiding out here?"
"Wouldn't be the first time vamps have made themselves at home in a cemetery. After all, that's where the legends of vampires rising from graves came from."
"But if our vamp tonight was hungry enough to attack this gravedigger, surely he would have attacked someone earlier? Hell, I was standing there looking more than a little cold and forlorn, and he showed no inclination to attack me."
"Maybe he sensed the anger in you, and figured you'd put up too much of a - "
I didn't hear the rest of his sentence, because something long and thin leapt out of the surrounding darkness and came straight at me. I had a brief glimpse of a white face, then he was flying into me, knocking the stakes from my hand and sending the both of us crashing to the ground.
I landed hard enough to leave me winded and briefly seeing stars. Stars that were quickly shattered by the growls of the vampire. His body covered my length and pinned me to the ground and the smell of him - earth and unwashed flesh - filled every breath. He snarled, revealing those shattered bloody canines, confirming our suspicions that he'd been the one to kill the gravedigger. And he intended to feed off me as well.
Not that I was about to let him.
I bucked in an effort to get him off, but he rode me like a bronco and laughed harshly - a sound that was abruptly cut off when my fist smashed into his face. I might be human, but I was strong, and my blow mashed his nose, sending blood flying.
He growled low down in his throat, a sound that was suddenly echoed. Then he was gone from me, tossed into the night like so much rubbish, and Brodie was there, hauling me upright.
"Are you okay?" he said, voice harsh and green eyes afire with anger and concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine - "
"Good. Stay here while I take care of that bastard."
"Brodie, no, wait - "
Once again, I was speaking to nothing more than air. I rubbed my arms and studied the surrounding darkness. Whatever had been watching us before was still watching me now, and the feel of it made my skin crawl. It was an older evil than the one Brodie was chasing, and there was an odd sense of satisfaction coming from it.
I shivered slightly and looked around for the stakes. I found one. I'm sure the other one was out there in the darkness somewhere, but I wasn't willing to go too far to find it. And while one stake might not help if whatever-it-was out there in the darkness attacked as suddenly as the first vamp had, at least holding it gave me some sense of security.
With stake in hand, I knelt down beside the body and studied the poor man's neck. What a mess.
So who'd reported his murder? Did this gravedigger have a partner who'd fled the scene, or was he also lying out there in the darkness with a savaged neck? If so, why hadn't Brodie scented him?
And who the hell was watching me?
I glanced at the surrounding gravestones, my heart pounding rapidly and the taste of fear in my mouth. I might have faced more than my fair share of bad guys over the years, but I was still human. Humans were easy kills for vampires, even one as well trained as me.
God, Brodie, where are you?
Why had he left me alone? Why hadn't he sensed that our other watcher was still out there? Or had his anger at me being attacked blocked out awareness of everything else?
I blew out a breath, and tried to remain calm. But my knuckles practically glowed with the force of my grip on the stake, and every sense I had was tuned in the direction of the thing that still watched.
Still oozed an evil that was making my senses and stomach squirm.
I rose and walked around the body, heading for the tractor, to make sure we didn't have another victim waiting to be uncovered in the cabin.
I didn't get more than five steps when I sensed the approach of evil. Before I could react, he hit from behind, smashing my face into the ground. Suddenly all I could breathe was dirt, and the panic that had already been stirring surged to new heights. I struggled with all my might, but a hand against the back of my head pressed me down harder. A scream rose up my throat, but it had nowhere to go, echoing through my mind instead.
And then his free hand was on me, tearing at my clothes, caressing my skin, his flesh cold and clammy and horrid. I shuddered, fighting his touch, fighting him, with all my might, twisting and kicking and punching backward.
He chuckled. A heated, lusty, and totally evil sound.
Clothes tore. His fingers forced themselves underneath me, groping for a breast. I shuddered, fighting nausea and feeling more and more desperate for air.
Stake, I thought, and groped blindly around me. My hand brushed against wood, and I grasped it frantically, my fingers tightening around it spasmodically as I lifted my arm and stabbed backward with all the strength I had left.
I hit flesh, felt it give way. He roared in pain and jerked away. Not getting off, but giving me the freedom to move. To breathe. I gulped down air, my whole body shuddering with the effort.
"Bitch!" The sound rode the air, harsh and forced. "For that, I will do you slowly, and then I shall let my brother suck you dry. No easy death for you, little girl."
"Your brother is dead," came a voice so flat, so deadly and so damn cold that for a moment I didn't even recognize that it was Brodie's, "as you soon will be."
Then the weight was off me, and I could move. I forced my trembling limbs into action and pushed up, the now-bloody stake still in my hand as I swung around.
Brodie's powerful fingers were around the neck of a thickset man, and he was holding him off the ground by a good six inches or so. That took more strength than I could ever imagine anyone owning, but he didn't even seem to be exerting himself.
The only sign of effort was in the whiteness of his fingers. Fingers that were ever-so-slowly squeezing the life out of my attacker.
No quick death intended there, whatever he might have said.
"Brodie - "
"No one attacks you and lives," he cut in, his gaze not leaving the thickset man's. "No one."
There wasn't only anger in his voice, but possessiveness. It was the wolf speaking, and the wolf was protecting what belonged to him.