| ENEMY MINE
By Jewel Dartt CHAPTER ONE She knew someone was watching her. The question was...who was he? And what did he want? Gabrielle Warlick's preternatural abilities couldn't tell her, but the shiver of alarm running down her spine could only mean one thing. She was in extreme danger. Her hand tightened on the frosty, smooth surface of the glass of beer she'd ordered for the sake of appearance. She stood, carefully, scanning the smoky nightclub, her eyes scrutinizing one person after another, until her gaze fell upon a man sitting at the bar in the far corner. The red neon lights, from the beer sign behind the counter, gave his lean handsome features a more sinister look. Yes, he was the one; there was no doubt in her mind. He appeared to be in an intense conversation with a voluptuous redhead, although his eyes kept returning to Gabrielle again, and again. Fear gripped her, and her senses screamed, he knows. He glanced her way yet again, his gaze hardening into the stare of one who stalked. Frantic, she jerked her gaze away from him, her hand slipped, and the beer mug crashed to the floor. She let out a startled choked cry as the smell of sour beer swept over her, sickening her with its overpowering stench. Escape. Gabrielle had to escape before it was too late. She wove her way through the slow-dancing couples, making sure to give the long, smooth mahogany bar a wide berth. Stay calm, she told herself, don’t let him see your fear -- never let any human see your fear. Gabrielle had learned that valuable lesson two hundred years ago from her mentor. Gabrielle never should have come to the club tonight, but her self-imposed isolation sometimes got the best of her, as it had tonight. She brushed by a scarred wooden table, and almost bumped into a couple of dancers who'd stumbled into her path. The couple laughed and apologized before they danced off, and for a moment, she felt a brief longing to know again the joys of dancing, the sheer delight of simply being alive. Mortals didn't know how fortunate they really were, she thought wryly. "Hey pretty woman, let me buy you a drink." Gabrielle felt a hand on her shoulder and her spine stiffened with fear, a cold lump forming in her throat. She turned to face a man, and a sense of revulsion swept over her as a bluish haze of tobacco smoke engulfed her, stinging her eyes and burning her lungs. He was short and bald; a sheen of perspiration covered his heavy, jowled face. He took another puff of his cigarette, blew the silver smoke cloud at her, and then smiled foolishly. "Come on, little one, let me buy you a drink." Instinctively, Gabrielle called forth a shimmer of the voice. "Don't touch me." The man's bleary eyes widened in alarm. He jerked his hand back as if she'd burnt him. "Sorry...lady...didn't mean no harm." He backed away from her, one chubby hand held out as if in protection. Gabrielle ignored him, brushed past, intent on reaching the plush, red portal doors before it was too late. The band struck up another old country tune as she reached out to push them open, the music calling her back inside, but she didn't dare stop to listen. She had to escape before he realized she was gone. A giddy sense of relief bubbled up inside of her as she caught a glimpse of the star-punctured night sky -- until she felt the slight pressure on her shoulder. The bubble burst into a thousand shattered pieces, spilling out dread and the darkness that tortured her every night. Gabrielle turned slowly to face the same man she'd seen at the bar. Everything about his appearance bespoke of money, from the stylish cut of his burnished gold hair to the faded stone washed jeans that she knew cost a pretty penny, despite their ragged, worn appearance. She knew it would do her no good to call forth the voice. It couldn't help her this time... "What do you want?" she whispered. His fingers slid down her arm and tightened around her slender wrist. "We have to talk." The man stared down into her face. A face he'd seen in his dreams many times before. An impossibility, he knew, but a fact nevertheless. With her tumble of dark curls, amethyst-colored eyes, and her finely sculpted features, he could almost imagine her as a southern belle in the days before the Civil War. Gabrielle pushed a stray, dark curl from her face. He saw a hint of fear in her eyes, and then it was gone. She tilted her chin defiantly and gave him a haughty stare. "We have nothing to discuss. Now if you will excuse me, I must go." His grip tightened into an iron hold. "You have to listen to me. You're in danger." Her body stiffened. "If you don't let go of me right this second, I'm going to scream." Her eyes narrowed. "And let me assure you I can scream loud enough to burst your eardrums." He gave her a hard look. "Scream all you want, but we're going to talk unless you want to die." Gabrielle jerked away angrily. "Not if you're in jail, and if you persist in bothering me, that's exactly where you're going to end up." Preston Adams couldn't believe her attitude. But then again, what had he expected? That she would come with him without questions, trust him without reason? In his dreams, her purple eyes were always filled with happiness, not fear and anger. But that was only in his dreams. Dreams were not reality. She began to walk away, her heels clicking loudly against the asphalt, but he quickly caught up and spun her around. "You know who I am?" Gabrielle felt the stirring of fear anew as she glanced around the now empty parking lot looking for somebody, anybody to come to her defense. The sound of a train whistle echoed in the distance, a lonely sound that made her only too aware of her vulnerability. Streaks of bright light lit up the dark clouds overhead. Okay, she was on her own; somehow she would have to deal with him herself. For a split second, Gabrielle wished she had her full range of powers back, then maybe she would have a chance. No, there was a price to pay for those powers, a price she had no intention of paying. God, but she wished Angel were here, he'd know how to handle this situation. You can do this. She forced herself to give the man a steady gaze. "Yes, I know who you are, Mr. Adams, and I'm not going anywhere with you." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glint of gold in the folds of his shirt. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. The medallion. Gabrielle had suspected -- no, dammit, she'd known he would be wearing one. He was an Adams, and therefore her enemy; but she had hoped she was going to get lucky just this once. She hated the constant running and hiding to keep away from his kind. But the Adams clan never gave up. Gabrielle should have known better. After all, when had good fortune ever been given to her kind? The curse of all mankind -- an abomination that walked the earth against the will of God. And it looked as if her time had finally come, after all these years. The hunters had found her, and it was a well-known fact among her kind, that when they cornered their quarry, they were merciless in dealing out death. After all these years of searching every dark musty corner of Europe and then the New World, a normal family would have given up, run out of resources or hate, she thought bitterly. But not this clan; for years, the church had officially sanctioned their profession, even paying bounty fees for each vampire they destroyed. But after a hundred years, the church had withdrawn their support and had gone after livelier sport. Witches and heretics became better known than vampires, and the church switched their attention to them instead. It had been such a blessed relief to finally be free, to not have to look over her shoulder constantly. Gabrielle had believed the hunters would stop without the church behind them, find something better to occupy their time. She had been wrong. It was only later through Angel's network that she found out about the shrewd investments made by the clan; investments that allowed them to pursue their enemy at leisure. Gabrielle had known then that the undead would never be free, not as long as one Adams male existed. "If you don't come willingly, sweetheart, then I'll drag you, but come with me, you will; we need to talk…” Preston’s threat yanked her attention back to him and the present. His hand came down over her wrist again, this time tighter than before. A chill seeped through her skin as she stared up into his face, and saw the hint of an indomitable will in his gaze. There was no doubt in her mind. He wasn't taking no for an answer. Gabrielle didn't let it scare her. She wasn't giving in that easily, not yet, at least. She yanked her arm away from him and rubbed her wrist. The sound of a woman's laughter floated her way, and she looked instinctively toward the sound. But before she could scream out for help, the woman disappeared back inside the club. No help from that quarter, she realized with a sinking sensation. Gabrielle shoulders slumped for a moment before she realized she was signaling defeat. No...not this way. Her expression grim, she squared her shoulders and turned back to him. "Then you will have to drag me. Because I'm not going anywhere with you", Gabriele said, her eyes narrowing. "But let me warn you, I will be kicking and screaming all the way. I think it's entirely possible that someone may come out of the club again and see us and no doubt come to my rescue." Preston frowned. "I'm warning you, Ms. Warlick. Don't make this more difficult than it has to be. We need to get this over with." Gabrielle frowned, hiding her fear and hatred for this man the way Angel had taught her. "Let's get this straight, Adams. I'm not going anywhere with you, now or ever. If you are going to kill me, it will have to be in front of the whole damn world. Now, get the hell out of my way." She pushed away from him and started walking toward her small car. When she didn't hear him coming after her, a heady sense of triumph shot through her. These hunters were not so tough. There had once been a time when she wouldn’t have been able to bluff her way out of an encounter with a hunter. Obviously, over the centuries they had become weak and ineffective. That was the only answer she could come up with, or else why would he let her go so easily? That question made her pause. That didn't make sense. What about the increasing number of vampires killed in the last few years, and even more recently? It would have taken the same dedication and fervor the Adams clan was famous for two centuries ago to accomplish what they had in the present. Something about this hunter didn't ring true. The Adams clan were vampire hunters. They never let their victims get away -- never. She was about to turn back and question him, then thought better of it. Best to take advantage of the chance he'd given her, why borrow trouble, she asked herself, breaking into a run. Gabrielle shuddered as the chill night wind grabbed at her clothes and hair, reminding her of the peasants who had torn at her flesh, two centuries before, during the Blood War. Gabrielle forced back the unpleasant memory. This was no time to be thinking of the past, not if she wanted to live. Almost there, just a few feet and she'd be safe in her car. Suddenly, her heart plunged to her feet as she felt herself lifted into the air by bands of hard steel. "Let me go," she screamed, struggling against his strength as he opened the door on the little red sports car next to hers and shoved her inside. Like a fool, she'd been duped by his apparent willingness to let her walk away. But he'd only been waiting until she came abreast of his car to make his move. Gabrielle had been so deep in thought, she'd not heard any warning that he had followed her. Because of his strange ways, she'd underestimated him. She should have known better. Angel had told her dozens of times not to trust humans. ### "Sit still, dammit!" he said as he tried to buckle the seatbelt against her flailing legs and arms. Gabrielle butted him in the gut; she heard a whooshing sound and gloated with satisfaction. “After all these years of living, Gabrielle, I thought you’d be better mannered by now.” She heard the amusement in his voice and it only made her more furious. "Go to hell," she shot back. She got one hand free and slapped him hard, before he could recapture it. Preston’s jaw hardened, his eyes angry. "Okay, since you won't come peacefully, I'll tie you in. Fortunately, I'm a man who comes prepared for anything. I had a feeling you might react negatively." To her horror, he pulled a coil of shiny new rope from the back floorboard. Gabrielle renewed her struggles against him, but to no avail. If only I had fed before coming to town, she despaired as her remaining strength waned. At least then I wouldn't be as weak as a human female. I still couldn't defeat him, but perhaps I could have gotten away. But it was too late to look back now. Gabrielle stilled, exhausted, unable to fight any longer. A tired sigh escaped her. "If you're going to kill me, do it now and get it over with. There's no reason to make me suffer the agony of waiting for the actual moment of my death." Preston riffled his long lean fingers through his hair with a frustrated motion. "I'm not going to kill you." "Yet, you mean," Gabrielle said quietly. Despair slammed into her, it made her feel as if somebody had butted her in the gut as she thought of the ways he could make her death slow and lingering... "I'm not going to kill you." This time his voice was harsh: yet somehow she could hear a tinge of compassion in it. For a fraction of a moment, hope soared, until she realized he was lying to her so she would go with him quietly. It would stand to reason he wouldn't want to do the deed in the middle of a parking lot; traffic was whizzing by on the interstate only a hundred yards away. And not to mention the off chance that someone could come out of the club and see him plying his trusty wooden stake. No, he'd want privacy to do his dirty work. There was not a chance Gabrielle could get away. Even if an opportunity arose, and she did get away from Preston Adams, he would follow wherever she went and eventually captures her in the end. That's what a hunter did best. Once they set their sights on you, inevitably, they always found you. Long ago, when she was still in the full swing of power, she could have overpowered him quite easily, despite the medallion. Gabrielle could have made her escape and had a chance to flee from certain death, but not now…that was two hundred years ago. Not since she'd sworn a vow never to partake of human blood again. Human blood...the elixir of life for her kind. Preston tied off the last knot, and then pulled at the rope to make sure it was good and tight. Satisfied with his handiwork, he grinned and patted her hand. "Comfortable?’ Gabrielle averted her gaze and remained silent; she forced back the numbing fear that swept her as she stared out the bug-splattered windshield. Her shoulders slumped in despair and defeat. Perhaps it was time to stop clinging to a life that held no meaning? She'd lived too long, seen too much, and lost too many loved ones to death. Now her turn had finally arrived. Gabrielle shook her head, rebellion welling inside her. No, not yet. She would choose the time and place of her demise. There had to be a way to get out of this mess. She'd bide her time and if she saw a chance, she would take it, and damned the consequences. Now that she'd formed some kind of plan, she slid down into the leather seat, inhaling the male scent of him that pervaded from the leather interior. Gabrielle knew her powers had diminished from lack of proper nourishment, but her preternatural senses were still as sharp as they had always been, she assured herself, feeling more than a few butterflies in her stomach. Oh, yeah?...then how did he get the drop on you? She grimaced at the thought. As he walked around to the driver's side of the car, she couldn't help but notice his movements were swift, full of grace and virility. "Just like Damon," she said aloud. Her throat tightened, swelled up, hurting her to swallow. She could feel the heat of her blood pounding in her ears. No, she dare not think about him. It hurt too much. She had to stay alert. She couldn't afford for the past to cloud her thinking. "I want to go to your sanctuary," he said, sliding under the steering wheel with one smooth movement. She froze as her senses leapt to life at his nearness, aware of the harsh uneven rhythm of her breathing. Impossible, human males were not, nor would they ever be of interest to her in that way. And certainly never a hunter. Only Damon. It had always been Damon. She pushed back the forbidden thoughts. "Your sanctuary. Where is it?" "Why?" she asked, giving him a bleak look. "Is it some kind of rule with you people to kill us in our homes now?" He hit his fist against the steering wheel. "Dammit, I don't want to kill you. I tried to tell you-" He glanced over at her, his eyes dark and tortured. "I only want to talk to you, warn you of the danger-" Gabrielle smiled, but it was a strained, hurting expression. "That's something different. Members of the infamous vampire hunter clan warning a vampire of impending doom. I must say it is original." She paused for a moment. "As a matter of fact, I can't recall a period in time when one of you phenomenal Adams actually warned your victim of his or hers forthcoming death." "Look, Ms. Warlick," he said, running an impatient hand through his hair. "I don't intend to sit in this parking lot and discuss my ancestors' shortcomings. Now, tell me where your sanctuary is. I'll take you there. I'd rather discuss this matter in private, if you don't mind." Why was going to her refuge so important to him, Gabrielle wondered, feeling a shiver of disquiet. She'd been told a few weeks ago of Eamon's death at the hands of one of these bloodthirsty assassins, but Angel had made no mention of Eamon being killed in his inner sanctum. It was only in the movies that vampires were reputed to be especially vulnerable in their dwelling place, mainly a coffin. With today's modern weapons and the right kind of wood, they could be killed anywhere if caught unaware. What a joke, Hollywood hype that never died, there wasn't one self-respecting vampire she knew that would be caught dead in a coffin. She almost laughed aloud at the thought, until she remembered the seriousness of her situation. She studied her unwanted companion for a long moment. "Belmont Cove," she said at last, though she knew she shouldn't. What did it matter anyway? A weary sigh escaped her. If he was going to kill her, it might as well be in her own beloved inner sanctum. Anyway, she had to admit she was curious to hear what he had to say. There were no accounts of a hunter trying to have a conversation with one of her people before slaying them. Perhaps this one just happens to be weirder than the others are, she thought wryly. And there is the possibility I can buy myself a little more time to think of a way to escape. What do I have to lose? The car rumbled underneath her as Preston revved up the engine, and then with an angry squeal of rubber, he shot out of the parking lot. Gabrielle settled back in her seat, and fixed her gaze onto the dark wall of interwoven trees that bordered the highway, determined to enjoy the ride. She had no desire to strike up a conversation with the enemy. She loved fast cars, and if she was going to die -- well, she was going to make the most of the time she had left. Thunder rumbled overhead, surprising her with its intensity. In the early evening the night sky had been cloudless, filled with countless tiny pinpoints of white lights. Gabrielle glanced upward to see the thick cloud cover overhead. Another jagged sharp-edged sword of brilliant light flashed. Although it hadn't actually begun to rain yet, the air had a charged, electric feel to it, and the sullen purple-black thunderheads gave the sky a nightmarish look. Just like in the movies...the perfect setting for a vampire killing. The thought made her shudder. |