Stroke of Midnight (Nightcreature #1.5)(74)

Time had been his enemy. If he'd had more time, he would have sat out on a porch with her and brushed her lovely hair in the moonlight. If he'd had more time, he would have used his hands to build her that cabin she'd told him she'd dreamed about… the one in the woods, decorated with her people's art, the ancient ones. And still, time was preciously slipping away just like he could feel she was. The gun in his waistband felt so heavy. He'd have to go get her before morning, before the sun started to blister her beautiful brown skin, or blind her for good. But once he'd delivered her to what he thought was a medical sanctuary, time had sped up as the professionals around her slowed down, searching for answers that no one had.

A familiar voice laughed loudly and made him turn around on his stool easy. Crazy Pete was walking in the door with Snake and the rest of the gang, missing five. Rider stood slowly, trying to allow his mind to catch up to the images. He'd seen one of them die, and after what he'd been through, he knew the rest of them had died, too. He could now identify that metallic taste on the back of his throat. It was the smell of living death. Eyes that knew his met him, and heads nodded with sly recognition. He carefully set down his money for the bartender and glanced around for an alternate exit. As soon as he looked back toward the main entrance, they were gone.

The medical center stabbed into his temple. He moved toward the front door so fast that he nearly took out a waitress who'd been carrying drinks. He dashed toward his bike and then stopped as the shadows moved. Snake stepped out of the darkness with Crazy Pete, then Razor, and Bull's Eye, until his old squad formed a ten-man horseshoe ring around him.

"You left us, Rider," Snake said, his eyes glowing. "Thought we was going all the way to the limit, one gang, one road?"

"Plans changed," Rider said, the muscle in his draw arm twitching.

"There's only one way to save her, man," Crazy Pete said. "Don't knock it, till you've tried it."

It was reflex, not a thought. The light caught Pete's fang and made it glisten, Rider unloaded his revolver dead aim. Pete, Razor, Snake, center-of-the-skull hits, exploding them into ash and cinders. Two more of his boys lunged from either side, and took a bullet in the center of their chests on a quick pivot shot. Rider immediately spun, the hairs on the back of his neck registering the slightest movement, and he caught Bull's Eye mid-flight as he came down, burning.

"He's got that shit hanging on his chest. Don't reach for him, he's poisoned," one of the remaining creatures said, nodding toward the bag around Rider's neck. "Later, we'll settle up."

Later indeed. Rider was still pulling the trigger as they disappeared. Instantly he heard commotion behind him and knew it was time to ride. There were no bodies, just ash and the distinct smell of burning remains. He was gone before anyone could get a good look at him or his bike, and way before the sheriff's sirens ever sounded.



He reloaded his weapon and sat by her side all night, intermittently arguing with the authorities about at least allowing her to be in a dark room before morning came. Then security ushered him to the door with a brawl that drew the sheriff. He had one option: be cool, or do a night in a cage.

But all of that was for naught when the doctor came out and shook his head at dawn. Rider looked up. He was so defeated that he couldn't even cry. The only thing that made it all right was that they finally let him go in and see her. And she seemed so peaceful, like a sleeping baby. Her color was back, her beautiful eyes were shut, long black lashes dusting her high cheeks. Her once-agonized expression had disappeared as her facial muscles relaxed when she'd passed. He stroked her hair and it was velvet again.

"I'm so sorry that we ran out of time." He put his head on her chest and closed his eyes, hoping that she'd heard his whisper.

"We found something that we've never seen," the doctor said, his tone subdued. "There were no drugs in her system, and we'll have to send her work up to the Centers for Disease Control. If you can make contact with her family, they may have to wait for the body until we can determine that what she's carrying wasn't communicable."

"It wasn't," Rider said hoarsely. "Something bit her—that's the only way you can get what she had." He kept his back to the doctor as he drew away from her and just stared down at his heart—her.

Tears ran down his nose and splattered her face, and he kissed her so gently as he said a private goodbye in his mind. He branded her peace-filled expression into his memory, then stepped back, sucked in a ragged breath, and brushed past the people who wouldn't listen.

He rode hard and wild. The promised Texas rains did come and they also pelted New Mexico, but that didn't stop him. He found the Arizona door that had the number he was looking for in Sedona. He knocked hard and dragged on a cigarette and waited.

A striking woman with silver hair opened it. She could have been Tara's body double with wrinkles and an additional fifty pounds. He looked at her hard and cast away the smoldering butt with fury balled into his fists. The tears glittering in her eyes only made him angrier.

"I brought her to you!" Those were the first words out of his mouth. "But you moved and left her!" He thrust the medicine bag that had been around Tara's neck into the old woman's hands. "What about her destiny?"

The woman before him nodded and tucked the bag into her blue calico apron. The color of it nearly made him sob.