Page 93 of Saint of the Shadows

Smack! Vincent, hanging from a cable off his helicopter, kicked Ruthven. Marisol’s muscles unwound with relief at once. Ruthven stumbled to his feet and ripped scaffolding off the ductwork. He swung the club-like piece at Vincent.

As fluid as a shadow, Vincent weaved and darted to avoid the attack. Midhack, Vincent grabbed Ruthven’s wrist in the air and cracked it against the galvanized steel of the duct. His bones shattered into a limp squid. As Ruthven’s hand tried to pop back into place, Vincent crunched it in his fist. Pride vibrated through her as her dark savior enacted her vengeance.

With his other arm, Ruthven swung wildly and erratically, wobbling his balance. Vincent led him to the roof’s ledge. While Ruthven struggled to center his gravity, Vincent whipped the bolas above his head.

Ruthven attempted to strike, missed, and toppled off the ledge. How would he mend together after bursting like a meat balloon?

But her merciful Patron Saint released the bolas and caught the falling Ruthven. In a last-ditch effort, Ruthven flexed to break the cable, but Vincent tapped the remote at his utility belt.

The magnetic force squeezed Ruthven tighter.

The helicopter hovered above them. Vincent clipped the cable to its landing skid. “I’m taking him home.”

“Don’t forget your bioweapon.” Marisol held up the cylinder.

Vincent tucked the cylinder into a compartment on his belt. With the Bloodsucker bound and dangling off a cable, the virus was in safe hands. She earned the gloat about to escape from her lips.

But Vincent wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her in for a kiss. The impact stung with a jolt of electricity.

Marisol’s eyes popped open in surprise. But damn, it was that good kind of unexpected. In the corner of her eye, Ruthven strained and climbed up the building, using only his legs. The wind picked up. The surrounding temperature cooled. Ruthven lowered his head and charged at them. She mumbled a warning against those lips. “Vincent, look—”

Zzzz! Lightning pierced through the sky and hit Ruthven square in the chest.

Their mouths separated. Breathless and wide-eyed, they stared at each other and the knocked-out Ruthven.

“Did we do that?” Marisol asked.

“I think so,” Vincent answered with a boyish grin. Boyish. As if in his 500-plus years of living as a superhuman, he finally witnessed something unexplained and miraculous.

Vincent grabbed on to the landing skid and reached out his hand. “You can come with me.”

Marisol stepped back. “I have a shift to finish.”

“And that’s why I love you.” He climbed into the cockpit. She tapped her earpiece four times. The helicopter headed toward the horizon.

The door to the roof burst open. Marisol gasped before Tobias fell out of it, winded and holding his chest. “I just ran the whole way. I think... I think I’m going to barf.”

“Missed the big catch.” Marisol held out her arms. “He was this big.”

He spat on the ground and settled into a smile. “You did good, kid.”

“You did, too, old man.” She hugged him around his neck, standing on tiptoes. Before he could break away, she cupped his stubbled face in her hands. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. She pulled him closer and kissed him gently on his bruised eyelid. His eyebrows perked up.

As he straightened back up, grinning, his blackeye had faded into a wine-colored stain. Yeahright, he couldn’t heal that quickly. It had to be some trick of the shadows.

She tilted her head to get him to follow her back inside. “We have a lot of patients to move, old man. You can try the elevator, but I’m taking the stairs.”

And there wasn’t much to wheeling scads of patients back to their rooms or cordoned areas. Some needed an extra hand squeeze, others an extra hug. Even more needed a heated blanket to make it through the night. A few asked about the big guy who followed her around. Tobias, a friend, wasn’t fitting enough, so she told them, “Oh him? He’s family.”

But no one asked questions when Vincent Varian arrived and offered to help. They were too speechless, including her. The man looked straight out of a fashion magazine with his jeans and jacket curated just for this moment and his angelic hair tousled just so. The scent of sandalwood lingered behind him. That and a tinge of electricity.

The last place Marisol found Vincent Varian before she clocked out for the night was the children’s floor. He spun a child in a wheelchair under his arm. The child’s mouth burst wide with laughter.

And that’s why she loved him.

Epilogue

Deliciously attired in his silk pajama bottoms and untied robe, Vincent led Marisol by the hand into the basement of the estate. He stopped her in front of a reinforced mouse cage. The rabid little creature she had last duct taped in a freezer went about its business running on a wheel.

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