Page 39 of Edge of Oblivion (Night Prowler 2)
The Bellatorum reached the main entrance of the church, then split up and went in opposite directions without another word.
Xander felt their approach like waves of stinging needles on his skin. Except there were fewer of them...four, he thought, concentrating on the energy they emitted. Only four now. Which meant they’d sent two after Morgan.
Shit. He was going to have to work fast.
He stepped out from the line of tourists waiting to enter the Vatican and looked right at the four males in black who stood silently on the steps of the basilica, looking around, testing the air with their noses. He was all the way across the vast, cobbled plaza, but they found him right away. Four dark heads swiveled in his direction; eight flat black eyes zeroed in on him with cold, calculated precision.
No one moved.
Then Xander flipped them the bird and all hell broke loose.
Instead of running after him—as he anticipated, as any Ikati trained to secrecy and silence, the tribe’s two cornerstones of existence, would have done—the largest male in the middle simply reached beneath his coat, pulled out what looked to be a Glock semiautomatic, and started firing.
The crowd split apart like stampeding wildebeests, screaming and shoving, pounding the pavement. Hundreds of bodies pushed in every direction, panicking, as more shots rang out over the courtyard. Perfectly still and silent, Xander stood in the middle of the chaos while a hurricane went on all around him.
Damn, they were bold. He’d never have attempted something like this.
The first bullet pierced his thigh. The second hit him in the left bicep. By the time the third bullet ripped through his chest, he was smiling.
The shooter lowered his gun. His companions on either side stared at him, hard, without fear but definitely surprised. Then just because he really wanted to piss them off, Xander lifted his hand to his mouth and faked a yawn.
The shooter’s lips curled back over his teeth. He took two steps forward just as a dozen members of the Swiss Guard appeared on the steps of the basilica. They looked truly ridiculous in their Renaissance uniforms of blue, yellow, and red stripes, puffy collars and black berets. But the assault rifles they carried didn’t look so ridiculous.
“Lay down your weapon!”
The shooter, whom Xander began to think of simply as Big, sent the guard who’d shouted at him in Italian an irritated look. Then he said something to his three companions, and all nodded their heads.
As the Swiss Guard began to slowly approach the men in black, they simply disappeared into mist. All four, all at once. Their clothes and weapons fell to the cobblestones in large, lumpy heaps.
Xander went cold.
Not only could they Shift to Vapor—which only the most Gifted of his kind could—they had absolutely no problem doing it in full view of humans. Hundreds of them. Which meant they didn’t care if humanity knew of their existence.
Which meant they were now the worst threat to the tribe. Even more of a threat than the Expurgari.
He watched as they surged above the clamoring crowd, moving fast. The Swiss Guard had frozen in place, craning their necks to look up. Three of them made the sign of the cross over their chests, five more took a few paces back, eyes bugging wide. The rest were apparently too stunned to move.
The four clouds of Vapor went west, opposite where he’d sent Morgan. He watched, torn, until they disappeared past a far grove of fig trees. Then he turned and started to run, the sight of Morgan’s flushed face receding on the bus vivid in his mind.
16
Morgan’s hands shook so badly she could barely fit the plastic door key into the electronic reader. She finally did it, and the little red LED light changed to green. The door clicked open.
She fe
ll into the hotel suite and slammed the door behind her, turned the deadbolt and turned the flip lock, then collapsed against the door, gasping for air.
She had run all the way from the tour bus’s last stop near the Termini station to the hotel, a span of several miles, hoping her scent trail was diffused throughout the city as the tour bus wound through it, hoping the fact that she hadn’t left St. Peter’s on foot would help disguise her.
Hoping that Xander knew what the hell he was doing.
Her first urge was to pick up the phone and call Sommerley. Leander would know what to do.
Leander might even come and get her! Her heart leapt at the thought of returning home, then fell as she realized there would be no mercy for her if she failed to find the Expurgari. And so far she had failed. Finding a stray colony of Ikati would hardly appease the Assembly. She’d still be made to pay with her life. And probably accused of working with the feral males all along.
She shuddered and passed a hand over her eyes. God, were those males feral. If she’d thought her own kin untamed beneath their thin veneer of civilization, those six males she’d sensed at the church were absolute savages. They exuded that same rabid, violent need she’d felt from the man in white, but where he was crystal cold, a silent void of darkness, they were all pulsing heat and fever, hot carnage wrapped in black leathers. She knew what they were.
Soldiers. Barbarian soldiers to an ice King.
