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The further they moved into the alleyway, the
darker it became. The security light stood tall but
unlit at the furthest end of the alley. Zacke s vision
allowed him to see the surrounding area, but since
the department owned no night vision goggles,
Gideon took his lead from Zacke.
Zacke exchanged a look with a tense and
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impatient Gideon. He knew his partner wanted to go
full steam ahead but even though the night
appeared peaceful, Zacke s spine prickled.
He motioned Gideon to stand still, and he did
the same. He closed his eyes and sought the
elements of the night. He heard the slight rustle of a
rodent as it searched for a bite to eat and the light
brush of wings as a pair of birds soared overhead.
Nothing in their immediate vicinity signaled
why his teeth ached to extend or why his vision
tinged with a faint blue glow.
Zacke had relied on intuition for centuries to
conquer ruthless killers, mortal and immortal. He
wondered if the human elements he had recently
experienced had weakened his self-survival traits.
He rotated his shoulders slightly to ease the
tension-induced knots. He had to focus. He opened
his eyes and tried once more to see the evil he sensed
lurking.
A blue haze blurred his vision as he found what
he sought. Two shadows hunkered down behind a
dumpster on a street adjacent to the hotel. He heard
the soft click of metal against metal.
A large caliber bullet hurtled straight toward
Gideon.
Zacke stepped in front of him.
Fire burned the hollow below his shoulder. He
dropped to his knees. Wetness saturated his shirt.
An identical flame edged his temple. He looked up at
Gideon through a film of red. The astonishment on
his partner s face echoed his own disbelief.
He felt Gideon s arms around him, lowering him
the rest of the way to the ground and then he felt
nothing.
****
Miranda buried her face beneath her pillow and
tried to block the shrill ringing. She desperately
needed more sleep, and she wanted to bash her
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alarm clock.
She reached out with the intention of doing just
that and found she had forgotten to set it. The
obnoxious and persistent ringing came from another
source her cell phone. She clicked it on and spoke
into the irritating instrument. Dr. James.
Miranda, this is Mac. We have a GSW coming
in, and no one else is answering their pages or
phones.
Miranda s jaws ached with her stifled groan.
This was getting old. Why should she be the only one
to respond to a call? Regardless, it wasn t Mac s
fault. That s all right, Mac. I ll be there in about
twenty or so. How long before the ambulance gets
there?
Not long. Can you make it quicker?
Miranda rolled off the bed and stretched her one
free arm over her head.
Sure, be there in ten.
****
Mac met Miranda at the doors to the trauma
unit. Hi, Mac, I take it our patient is going to need
surgery?
Yes, it s a chest wound with the bullet still
inside. The patient has lost a lot of blood.
Miranda s lips drew together in a taut line.
She d need to remove the bullet and thoroughly
cleanse the wound to prevent sepsis. She didn t want
to fool with that nasty infection.
Okay, give me a minute to get into scrubs, and
then I ll take a look at him. She tried to pass Mac,
but he blocked her entry to the unit. Mac, I need to
get inside.
Miranda, there s something you need to know.
What? That he needs me in there more than
out here?
No, I mean yes, but there s more.
Miranda pursed her lips in an effort not to light
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into Mac. Her assistant wasn t prone to this type of
attitude or stall tactics not when it came to patient
care. So, what is it? What s so important?
You, uh, know this guy.
Miranda looked at the discomfort, concern, and
compassion in Mac s gaze. She began a slow shake of
her head and saw what she had missed before
uniformed men sitting and standing in the waiting
room area. It s Zacke, isn t it?
Yes, Miranda.
Miranda gave a slight nod and then pushed her
shoulders back into military stiffness. Let s go, Mac.
We have a patient waiting.
****
Zacke pushed open eyelids that felt glued shut.
He tried to turn his head, but the ache behind his
eyes stopped him. Lord above, he felt like he had
centuries ago after a night of drinking and
wenching. His tongue felt like sandpaper.
But the most agonizing ache centered in his
upper chest. Spikes of iron stabbed him.
A groan tore from his sore throat and passed his
dry lips. He closed his eyes against the pain only to
be jarred back from his hope of unconsciousness by
several sets of hands probing him. His distress grew
and his groans became louder.
For pity s sake, can t you leave the man alone?
A snarl accompanied the guttural roar; Miles,
Hawk, or both must be in the room. He needed to
talk to them, but first he needed some privacy.
He used the pain to focus his mind on the
mortals surrounding him. A moment later, they
moved back and then exited the room. Zacke s
breath felt trapped in his chest and the tubing in his
mouth made it hard to swallow.
He used his right hand to pull out the tubing.
The plastic airway produced a raw burn as it slid
against his esophagus. Once the tubing cleared his
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throat and mouth, he sat up, took the cup Miles
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