The dark hours dragged on, with Noah spending as much time out of the van as in it, and Mace and Bethalie chatting about her upbringing in Tennessee and his childhood spent all over, traveling with a father who was a free-lance photographer and a mother who was a missionary. Bethalie thought growing up in Africa and Tibet was fascinating, and Mace thought training to kill Vampires since the age of five was enthralling. In essence, they were forming a mutual admiration society, which seemed to annoy Noah, who felt compelled to inform them of his upbringing in 17th century France, in the house of a nobleman, and Vampire, named Bartholomew Grey. 

Noah's mother, a servant in the nobleman's house, was also his lover and donor...or willing food source. The woman already had Noah and his sister when she was hired on to work for Bartholomew. After several years of working for the Grey's, the mother fell ill and died. Bartholomew couldn't turn the children of his favorite lover out, so he and his chosen mate, who couldn't have children for obvious reasons, decided to raise them as their own. They were both turned once they'd decided that was the fate they wanted. Noah at twenty five, when he'd fallen ill and would have died otherwise, his sister at twenty three, because she hadn't wanted to be left behind.

Noah had lived all over the world, he'd rubbed elbows with kings and their kin. His history was impressive and she could see that Mace, who was captivated, was taking detailed mental notes. Of course, he'd never to get use them for his own purposes, but she refrained from speaking on the matter.

There was no sign of life in the building for the entire night and it was a long and boring vigil they kept. Mace dozed in the back seat and Noah spent a lot of time wandering around the darkness doing...whatever it was that Noah Grey did. With a kink in her neck and her butt dead asleep, Bethalie was thinking that if Lance Morgan was in the building, but didn't know anything useful, she might put him down anyway, just for wasting her time and making her cranky. And then she'd go get Seth the barkeep for putting her onto Lance. In fact, she might get Seth anyway, just because.

It wasn't until light dawned and the early morning commuters began to filter into the area that the front door of the medical building swung open and a scant few people filed out.

Noah sat straight up, his hazel eyes focused on the people Bethalie could only just make out through the early morning gloom. "Hmmph. Your Warlock is there."

Bethalie opened her door, but Noah was already out and moving quickly down the sidewalk. "Damn!" she swore, deciding not to jump out and go after him.

Warlocks could be testy and having two strangers coming at him full force might cause him to panic. And panic could make a person do stupid things, like showing themselves for what they truly were. And given that there were people driving by, that kind of attention was best avoided.

"What's going on?" Mace asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Noah went after Lance Morgan!" she said through her teeth.

"Is..is that bad?" he questioned in a sleep roughened voice.

"I don't know," she answered, watching as Noah met up with the handful of people almost before they'd made it out onto the sidewalk.

This was not working for her. She did not need a Vampire jumping into things and causing her trouble! If Noah Grey spooked Lance and he refused to talk, she'd have to kill them both, flat out!

However, to her surprise, or perhaps dismay, Noah and another figure both turned and started back toward the van, the person in front of Noah moving rather stiffly. Bethalie, wishing she'd brought a Witch Ball with her, stepped out of the van and waited for them, seeing the Warlock relax a bit as he got close enough to recognize her.

"Lance Morgan?" she asked when both men were standing in front of her. She kept her hands firmly on her batons, ready to strike in an instant, which hopefully would be fast enough.

"You had me worried for a minute, Ward. I didn't know where the hell this leech was taking me!" the Warlock said in a voice that was high pitched and slightly womanish. That voice instantly irritated her.

"Are you Lance Morgan?" she repeated, needing confirmation.

"I am. What do you want?" he asked, rather gruffly now that he knew he wasn't about to be accosted by a Vampire.

Bethalie had to take a second to acknowledge the fact that Lance Morgan truly was an unattractive person. He was oily and slimy and incredibly rodent like, especially with his beady, dark eyes and his sharp, pointy features. He was tall and thin and held himself with his shoulders slumped and his hands stuffed into his pockets. She knew money could buy people, but did Lance Morgan really have enough to buy someone like Kelli with i?

"I have information stating that you're acquainted with Adam Turner and Jack Dunning. Reliable information, as far as I'm concerned, so don't bother denying it," she stated in her work voice. "So, I need you tell me everything you know about the both of them. In as much detail as you can, if you don't mind."

Lance narrowed his beady eyes at her, pushing his wire glasses farther up onto his sharp nose. "How the hell did you find me here, Ward?"

"Turner and Dunning?" she repeated, trying not to get vexed, but it had been a long night.

"I've spoken to them both on occasion. But, I have no idea where either of them are. I haven't seen them in weeks," he answered in a snotty tone.

"I need you to tell me if you're aware of any mutual friends they have, or if you've seen them hanging around at any of the same places lately," she went on.

"Wouldn't you know that better than me? You've obviously been chasing them," Lance said.

Why did people keep saying that to her?

"The people I question don't always give me all the information they have. It keeps their friends alive longer," Bethalie pointed out. "Which is why I'm here talking to you, Lance."

Lance huffed out a breath. "Look, I've seen them at the bars and a few of the clubs. Probably the ones you already know about. But, I don't exactly run in the same circles as their set," he cast Noah a scathing glare as he spoke.

"Word has it that you were spotted at Stoney's Pub, speaking to each of them just before they fell off the radar. Do you recall what you talked about the last time you were with them?" she asked, realizing how ambiguous the question sounded coming out of her. But again, she was not Nancy Drew and she had no idea the proper questions to ask.

Lance looked at her as if she'd sprouted another head. "Are you serious?"

"Do I sound like I'm joking?" she queried flatly.

Lance let out a disgusted snort, but then caught Noah's eye and took a faltering step backward, letting her know that he wasn't a very powerful Warlock. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so easily intimidated, which meant she didn't have to worry about being flayed. Or worse.

"You expect me to remember what I said to someone, in passing, weeks ago?" the Warlock questioned in outright astonishment.

"What I was told suggested that it was more than just a passing word you had with them. So, I'll ask again...what did you talk to them about?" she asked through her teeth. It was a slight untruth, but she wanted to gauge Lance Morgan's reaction.

"Look, Ward, whatever the hell we were talking about has nothing to do with anything!" Lance snapped. "It probably wouldn't help you one way or another!"

Bethalie stiffened by a measure. Hmmm. So, perhaps Lance wasn't just speaking to the two Vamps in passing. That could be a lucky break for her, thank the stars.

"What were you speaking to them about?" she restated the question, leaving none of the ire out of her voice. "I won't ask you again." She had already repeated herself more than she ordinarily would have and it was wearing on her.

"My conversations with those two were neither here nor there! I can't help you!" Lance bit out, a stubborn look on his oily, rodent-like face.

Why did they always have to choose the hard way?

Bethalie had a baton in her hand and was swinging it at the Warlock's right knee before he even knew what was happening. He let out a strangled cry and pitched sideways, but the next instant Noah had Lance wrapped in his arms, a large hand clamped over his mouth to stifle the sound. A bare heartbeat later, he was dragging the Warlock around to the back the van.

It wasn't what she'd had in mind, but she could go with it.

"Drive!" Bethalie shot the order at Mace as she slammed the passenger door shut and hurried after Noah, sheathing her baton before jumping into the van and pulling the back doors closed. A moment later, the engine started and then van jerked into motion, moving them out of the alleyway with a bit of speed.

Noah had Lance lying on his back by the winch, one hand covering his mouth, the other holding his bony wrists over his head. Bethalie knelt down beside the Warlock, looking down into his wide, terrified eyes.

"You know who I work for, Lance. And you know that if I kill you, they won't care. They never do," she pointed out, keeping her tone amicable. "So, tell me what I want to know so I can get on with my day, otherwise, you're dead." It was as simple as that.

Noah took his hand from Lance's mouth. "I'd talk Warlock. I've seen what she does when she's pissed. It's not pleasant."

"If I tell you, I'm dead anyway!" Lance croaked dryly.

Again, she felt herself stiffen. Well. Maybe she had gotten lucky. Certainly, Lance's statement made it seem as if he, and perhaps her two targets, had been up to something naughty. "I haven't been sent to put you down, Lance. Whatever you've done, I won't hold it against you." At least, not until his name came across Evyn's desk.

"I'm not worried about you killing me, Ward!" he hissed at her, his oily features twisted up with a mix of pain and...fear.

Hmmm. Mr. Lance Morgan might not be worried about her putting him down, but he was worried about someone putting him down. So, perhaps Lance had been up to something very naughty. Maybe she had just gotten really lucky. And it was only her first time out working as a sleuth.

Go Bethalie.

"I'm not going to rat you out to anyone, Lance. Scout's Honor," she soothed, though she'd never been a scout. "I'm just here for some information. And the sooner you give the information to me, the sooner you can exit the van."

"You don't understand! I could lose my job over this, Ward!" Lance snapped nervously. "If They find out...I need my job!"

"So, you do work for The Big Guys," she accused, feeling somehow slightly disappointed that she hadn't managed to uncover a blood running syndicate. "What do you do for Them?"

Lance stalled for a moment, going pale, but keeping his mouth firmly shut.

Noah made an annoyed sound in his throat and gave the man's bony wrists a bit of a twist, pushing a pained yowl out of him.

"Alright! I-I...answer phones on the Narc-line!" he confessed past his clenched jaw.

Well, well.

It seemed she'd inadvertently stumbled onto the location of the infamous Narc-line. And without even trying. What were the odds of that happening?

"That's very interesting, but I don't care about your job or what sort of hijinks that you've gotten up to, Lance," she quantified. "I only want to know about your interactions with Adam Turner and Jack Dunning."

Lance, in turn, said nothing. He just stared up at her with enormous, panicked eyes.

"I'm getting tired of repeating myself," she told him on a sigh, reaching for her Bowie knife because she didn't want to damage the van with a bullet and the space was too confined to wield her batons.

Seeing the knife leaving its sheath, Lance gasped and began to desperately squirm and writhe in an effort to free himself, but Noah held him firm. "Fine! Fine!" he half-shrieked. "It's a thing we all do when we're out together! We all talk about our...slip-ups! That's what we were talking about the last time I saw them!"

Bethalie felt surprise course through her. Well, this was getting kind of juicy.

"Go on," she urged, sliding her knife back into the sheath, which caused Lance Morgan to relax a fraction.

"I was talking to them, trading stories. That's...that's what our bunch does at Stoney's," he confessed hoarsely. "Adam fessed up about feeding on a guy in a hospital parking garage. And Jack was going on about a woman he snatched from the jogging trails in the park."

"They told you those things and...then you turned them in?" Noah reproached. "That's kind of underhanded, even for a filthy Warlock."

"I don't turn people in!" Lance spat, aghast. "That's why I'll lose my job, genius! I work for the Narc-line and I hear confessions from my friends on a regular basis that I do nothing about! If They find out—"

"Not only will you be fired, but you'll be forced to give up all the names and sins of your friends," Bethalie cut in.

And after that, the lot of them, Lance Morgan likely included, would be put down. By her.

"I'm going to need the names of your cronies, Lance," she said, abruptly thinking that perhaps Adam Turner and Jack Dunning might have met rather an unfortunate end because they had decided to turn someone in.

Lance's eyes widened. "No. I-I can't! If I do, you'll kill them!" he gasped, seemingly stricken by the thought.

"I'm not going to kill them unless their names wind up on my desk, Lance," she informed, using at least a version of the truth. "But, I need to question them about Turner and Dunning. So, give me their names."

Lance swallowed hard several times, his eyes darting about as he weighed his options, quickly discovering that he actually had none. "Will you tell them it was me? If they find out, I'm dead."

He was probably right, ergo the two Vamps left rotting away with the refuse.

"No. I won't ruin your little thing with the in-crowd," she assured. "This is strictly about Turner and Dunning."

"I'm serious, Ward! I don't want them to know that I gave them to you!" Lance insisted, highly perturbed.

"I said I won't rat you out," she reiterated, figuring that Lance was probably more worried about being ousted from the group than suffering any form of retaliation. He was hanging out with the über cool Vampire set and trading war stories, after all. It had to be a nerdy Warlock's wet dream.

"Alright!" he barked at her, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "There are six of us! Adam Turner, Jack Dunning, Nate DeKirk, William Black, Jürgen Van Cleeve, and me! A few others have floated through...but now it's just us."

"So, you and your cohorts just sit around, drinking cheap beer and talking about all the people you've killed lately?" wondered Noah, eyeing Lance Morgan as if he was something fetid that had been scraped up off the sidewalk. "That's pretty repulsive, even for a Warlock."

Lance gave Noah a scathing glare, but withheld any reply.

"How many people do you think have heard you lot bragging about your activities?" she asked, curious.

There could be someone out there who'd overheard and had decided to play Ward. Slitting the wrists of both Vamps and draining the life out of them would be a slow and torturous way to exact a little justice...

"I hope no one," Lance answered uneasily. "We're careful. Otherwise, you'd have put us all down by now. There's good money to be made turning in offenders."

"And it's just you six? You aren't leaving anyone off?" she questioned, eyeing him.

"No. There's no one else. We keep it small. I mean, none of us wants to die," came the riposte.

"Tell me what you know about your friends, Lance. Do you know where they hang out? Where they work? Do they travel in the same circles?" she inquired.

There were four other people who were now suspects, as far as she was concerned, in the deaths of her two targets. She'd need as much info on them as she could get.

"I can't tell you anything about them. They don't talk about their lives and I don't ask. I can only tell you about their slip-ups. I swear," Lance told her, the ring of truth in his words.

She studied the rodent-like man for a moment. "Does it worry you that two of your friends both managed to wind up on my list, Lance? Is it possible that your group is turning on each other, maybe to cash in? You said yourself, there's good money to be made turning offenders into the Narc-line."

Her words caused the man's thin brows to shoot upwards and a measure of stark dread to flash through his dark eyes. "No. No, nobody would do that," he replied weakly. "Its just... They just wouldn't. I mean...if Adam and Jack wound up with you after them, it was because they were sloppy and they got caught by some random looking to make a few dollars."

He certainly didn't sound too sure... "Tell me, Lance, how often does your little group meet up?" she questioned.

"We...we only meet up a couple times a month, just whenever we all happen to show up at Stoney's at the same time," Lance answered, some of his defiance suddenly returning. "Look, why are you harassing me about Jack and Adam? Are you really having that hard a time doing your job, Ward?"

Bethalie ignored the attitude, noting that it sounded as if the man had no idea his buddies had already been dispatched. "Are you the only Warlock in the group?"

"I'm the only one. The rest of them are Vampires," came the stiff answer.

"And you really can't tell me where I can find any of your friends, other than at Stoney's?" she asked, knowing full well that even if Lance had the information, he would not impart it, likely unless he was under extreme duress.

And she didn't want to go that route at the moment, not when she was feeling tired and cranky. She'd probably wind up beating him to death, just out of temper, before she managed to extract any answers.

"No, I can't!  Don't you listen!" Lance hissed at her.

Yes.  Owing to her current mood...and Lance Morgan's shitty attitude...physical force was best left out of it.  "Alright. That'll do," she said, abruptly reaching over and banging hard on the side of the van.

She was ready to be done with Lance Morgan for the time being.

Mace understood her signal and once the van came to a stop, she opened the doors and climbed out. Noah was right behind her, bringing Lance along with him. Out of the van, Noah dragged the Warlock over to the sidewalk, waiting for her word to let him go.

"Don't disappear, Lance," she warned, giving him a sharp glare. "I might need to talk to you again."

Lance gave a halting nod, the malice in his gaze fairly stripping the flesh from her bones.

"I'm not fucking around, Lance. If you run, I'll come after you. I'll find you. And I'll kill you. Clear?" It was fair warning...and he'd do well to listen.

"Clear," he croaked out.

"And don't try to warn your friends at Stoney's that I'm looking to have a little chat with them," she stated firmly. "Because if you warn them, and I find out...and I will...things will get really ugly, really fast. And I know you don't want that, do you?"

Lance shook his head, his rodent like features rife with hatred and spite and she suddenly felt she'd rather lucked up. Because if Lance Morgan had the capabilities, she'd probably be fighting for her life right about then.

Bethalie gave Noah a nod and he released his grip on Lance, who paused for a brief second to glance around and get his bearings before shooting forward at a flat jog. Once the Warlock had scurried halfway down the block, they both turned and walked around to the passenger side of the van, quickly climbing in and slamming the door, allowing Mace to hit the gas and send them peeling out down the street, leaving a cloud of burning rubber in their wake.

"What's the hurry?" she asked, belting in as Mace took a corner on what must have been only two wheels.

Mace shrugged, hitting the brakes and slowing them down. "There's no hurry. I just figured the situation called for a dramatic exit. I thought it would make a bigger impact."

Bethalie had to chuckle. Mace Donovan really was funny.

"Why didn't you ask him about the offenses he and his friends have committed?" Noah asked from the backseat.

"Because I'd be obligated to tell The Big Guys and then I'd have to go after the whole gang of them, which I don't have time to do right now. And I don't need to ask Lance about what he's been up to. I think I already know at least one offense that he's perpetrated."

"Really? What is it?" Noah demanded suspiciously.

"Did you see Lance Morgan?" she queried.

"Yes."

"Did you see his girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"There you have it," she stated.

She'd almost be willing to bet that, after having spent a few minutes in Lance Morgan's presence, it wasn't simply money keeping the blonde centerfold in his life. It was something else.

"Where are we going?" Mace asked, easily maneuvering through the early morning traffic.

"Home. I've got enough to get started," she declared.

She had six people who got together to boast about their offenses. Two of those people were dead long before she'd found them. That left four people, one of whom worked on the Narc-line and all of whom might not want to risk bringing exposure to their little club. Or risk being put down because Turner and Dunning had possibly decided to turn them in for the money...or were both just simply running their mouths when they shouldn't have been.

Draining the two Vamps and leaving them out in the open...well, that might be a bit of rough justice committed by a group of Darksiders who simply had no fear of getting found out by humans. Or perhaps...it might even be a simple case of misdirection, an effort to confuse anyone who'd be looking into the deaths.

Of course, the two Vamps might have been killed for an entirely different reason. Vigilantes...a twisted Darksider deciding to feast on their own...a depraved Darksider cult draining Vampires and using the blood for their own nefarious purposes. The possibilites were endless.

But, at least for the moment, she had a focused and firm direction to head in. And that was all she usually needed. A name and a place to start.

After that, it usually wasn't long before she was shoveling Mix over the bodies.

*  *  *  *  *  *

"So, these six jackholes get together to have a drink and brag about their latest offenses?" Evyn questioned in disgust, her fingers flying over her keyboard. "How charming."

It was just after lunch time and they were all gathered around Evyn's desk, drinking coffee and watching her work. They had all gotten a few hours sleep, Mace on the sofa, Noah on the cot by the cupboard. And with everyone fed and moderately rested, it was time to work.

"Evyn, put in a call to Waste Management when you have a second. I'm going downstairs to clean up while you're working," Bethalie said, walking over to put her empty glass in the sink.

"I'll come with you," Noah offered, right on her heels.

She cast a glance over her shoulder, shaking her head at him. "I don't want you to help with this. You stay here with Evyn."

"I want to help," he said, knowing exactly what she was going to do. "I think it's only fitting that I help clean up after her one last time."

Bethalie let out a breath. "If that's what you need to do," she said, trying to inject a measure of softness into her voice, though she didn't know if she succeeded.

"Can I help you?" Mace called after them as they deposited their dishes in the kitchen and headed for the door.

"Come on," she told him. It probably wasn't wise to leave him alone with Evyn anyway.

The three of them left Evyn to do her thing and made for the elevator, descending to the garage and stepping out in to air that was thick with the scent of lye and herbs. Bethalie went straight to the far corner where the empty, blue plastic barrels sat, each lined in a coating of silver to keep The Mix from eating through.

Mace followed her and they loaded two empty barrels onto the hand cart she kept there and pulled them over to the trough. Noah already had three shovels waiting for them.

"You really don't have to be here," she said to him, pulling the lids off the barrels and laying them on the floor.

Noah handed Mace and she each a shovel and began scooping up Mix without speaking a word, dumping it into one of the barrels. Bethalie started shoveling, too, lifting the stuff that was now twice as heavy because the body had been dissolved and absorbed. They shoveled in silence for nearly half an hour, filling both barrels with Mix that had changed from a sparkling silvery powder to something that was the consistency of sopping wet sand and the color of sewer water.

Once the trough was empty, Noah pulled the hand cart out through the back door and she directed him to place it at the end of the alleyway. She then went back inside, leaving him to say his goodbye.

"That stuff was really his sister?" Mace asked, looking pale and somber.

"It was. Don't feel too bad about it, though," she stated stiffly. "She willingly broke the rules when she attacked you. She knew the consequences."

Mace thought about that for a moment while she put the shovels away. "What are you going to do about Lance Morgan? Don't you have to put him down because he's breaking the rules by..."

"By keeping Kelli with an i against her will," Bethalie finished for him. "Lance isn't my priority. I have to find out who killed those two Vampires first." She'd get around to Lance and his buddies. They'd have to face their punishment soon or later. Everyone did. "Once all this is sorted out, I'll report whatever I learn about Lance and his friends. It'll be investigated and when I have the go ahead, then I'll put them down."

"Who investigates that stuff," Mace asked.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "Investigating Narc-line claims and dead humans that turn up is above my pay grade, so I have no contact with that end of the business."

"How did Lance know you were a Ward?" Mace asked, curious. "As soon as he saw you, he knew who you were."

She shrugged. "How can you Daylighters tell that a cop is a cop, even when he's not wearing a uniform?"

"Ah. Point taken."

Bethalie decided to go out and tell Noah to come back in so she could lock the doors and get back up to Evyn, who probably had reams of information waiting for her. Pushing open the door and stepping out into the alleyway, she glanced to the left...and a gasp flew out of her as she realized that Noah...was locked in a vicious battle with what appeared to be a small horde of Vampires. Fists were swinging and teeth were gnashing and despite being blatantly outnumbered, Noah seemed to be holding the wave of bodies at bay.

"Bethalie, run!" Noah roared as his milky gaze whipped over to her.

Bethalie didn't pause as she spun back around and flew inside, slamming the door closed and ramming the dead bolt into place. "Get upstairs! Now!" she shouted at Mace, pausing only for the barest second before racing across the space toward the shovels hanging on the wall. They were the only weapons she had handy.

She made it to grab a shovel off the peg and spin back around before the door crashed open and the dead bolt went flying high into the air...and the snarling, hulking Vampire was across the vast space before the piece of metal even clattered to the floor, coming at her with fangs barred and talons out.

Bethalie let the shovel fly with all her strength, connecting with the Vampire's skull in mid-air, the dull, metallic thud echoing through the garage as he was sent pitching sideways. He hit the concrete floor next to the trough with a heavy crash and she went after him, cracking the shovel against his head before he could jump to his feet. Striking his skull again and again, and managing to immobilize him for a second, she swung around and jammed the shovel into the hopper of Mix, scooping up a mound and dumping it straight onto the downed Vampire's face. He didn't even have time to scream as the mix began to sizzle its way through his skin and bones.

Not chancing it, Bethalie stood over him, putting the end of the shovel blade on his throat, just beneath the chin and jaw, and placing her foot on the blade, using her entire weight to force it downward. There was a resounding crack, followed by a flood of blood spilling out onto the concrete floor, and the head was separated from the body.

Opening the Vampire up caused a waft of musk to rise on the air and the scent invaded her nostrils, bitter and metallic, taking her breath away and rolling her stomach over inside her, sending bile surging up the back of her throat.

Even as her body automatically reeled backward to get away from the vile stench, she caught sight of a dark blur coming straight at her. The shape hit her head on, shifting her bones beneath her skin and taking her right off her feet. She felt herself hit the floor, felt her head bouncing off the concrete, causing her vision to go dim. The shadows lasted only a second though, because the searing pain in her shoulder brought her surging back to the moment with an audible rush.

Her scream of agony mixed in with the Vampire's own scream as he pulled his teeth out of her and fell backward onto the floor, gurgling and clutching at his throat as the silver in her bloodstream began to work its way through his body.

With her left arm numb and her shoulder on fire, Bethalie struggled to her feet, the room spinning around her. She was still clutching the shovel, so she moved over to the flailing, twitching Vampire that was spewing pink foam from his mouth and nostrils and put the blade on his neck, throwing all her weight down onto the handle, cracking through the throat and spine and several fingers because the Vampire was clawing at his neck. The resulting gush of blood surged out over the floor like a crimson river

Bethalie dropped the shovel, hearing it clatter to the floor a split second before another shape came flying at her. She braced herself, but from out of nowhere came a flash of silver that hit the shape head on, like a baseball bat to the face. The Vampire let out a roar and flew backward away from her.

She watched as Mace then appeared, silver batons slicing through the air as he battered the Vampire in a full on assault. She tried to shout out for Mace to toss her the batons and get the hell out, but her voice failed her. A heartbeat later her knees gave way...and then she found herself watching Mace from the cold concrete floor.

Oh shit.

It was too bad dosing herself with silver didn't do anything to negate the paralysis brought on by a Vampire's bite. The only way around it was actually being a Vampire, which she was not.

As she lay there, staring and helpless, Mace was fighting the Vampire as hard as he could, his strikes efficient and accurate. He brought the Vampire to his knees and began focusing his assault on the face and head, sending wisps of smoke up into the air as the silver made contact. But, after the first barrage of strikes, the Vampire shot out a hand, snatched hold of Mace's leg, and pulled it out from under him. Bethalie could only watch in horror as Mace hit the floor and the Vampire leapt forward, coming down on top of him and lifting a fist high into the air, preparing to smash it into Mace's face with what would be a deadly, skull crushing blow.

But, a loud, animal-like roar suddenly rent the air and Noah swooped in, grabbing the Vampire off Mace and whipping him around through the air before slamming him down on to the concrete floor with enough force to shake the building's foundation. Noah was on the Vampire then, grabbing his head in both hands and giving it a single, vicious twist. With a loud snap and the thick sound of tearing flesh, the Vampire went still and silent.

Bethalie lay on the floor, watching the scene with a small measure of relief. But that relief was dulled by the scorching agony rolling outward from her shoulder and the icy cold that was beginning to spread upward from her legs. She knew that ice cold feeling washing over her meant that she was losing a lot of blood and she was losing it fast. Probably because the Vampire had hit an artery.

Damn. Damn damn!

She didn't want to die just yet. She still had work to do...a job to finish. And she didn't want to leave Evyn. Evyn would be devastated. But, this happened to Wards. They mostly died young. It was expected and planned for. But...poor Evyn...

"Bethalie!" she heard Noah and Mace both shouting her name.

"Oh my god! Bethalie! No!" Noah roared, appearing above her.

His handsome face was blurred and unsteady, but she could still tell he'd taken a beating. The horde of blood sucking bastards had obviously caught him off guard while he was saying goodbye to his sister.

Noah bent and put his arms beneath her, lifting her off the floor and turning to race her toward the elevator. He let out a pained growl as her blood began to seep through his shirt. She could hear his skin begin to sizzle as the silver made contact...

She tried to open her mouth, tried to form words...tried to tell Noah not to take her upstairs. She didn't want Evyn to see her die. But, a wave of darkness washed over her...and she was lost before the elevator door was pulled closed.