Savannah recognized them instantly.
It was the homeless man who'd been sleeping in the terminal outside.
A wash of fear swept over her, leaving her skin prickled with goosebumps, but she summoned the most threatening tone of voice she possessed. "You'd better get out of here right now, ass**le, unless you want to spend the night in jail."
Through the soughing of his breath, a chuckle. Low and malicious. Not quite sane. Maybe not quite human.
Oh, God.
Savannah swallowed hard. She was trapped in the stall, didn't know whether to scream and bring someone else into her nightmare, or remain silent and pray that this was just another trick of her fracturing mind.
At least the threat was on the other side of the door. The metal panel wasn't the most sturdy, but it was locked from the inside. So long as she kept that door barred between them, she was safe.
But for how long?
She had her answer a second later.
While she stood there, trembling between the toilet and the door, the lock started to jiggle loose all on its own.
South Station was packed with passengers from a newly arrived train when Gideon skidded to a halt inside the terminal. Weaving between the sea of incoming humans, some striding with impatient purpose, others wandering aimlessly, Gideon searched out the schedule board and scanned the departures for Savannah's train to New Orleans.
Delayed.
Which would have been excellent news, except the board was showing the train had left the station. Departed just two minutes ago.
Gideon could hardly curb the need to put his fist through something. "Damn it."
He considered running after the train. If he didn't catch up to it en route, odds were good that he'd find it at its first stop along the way. Then what? Hop on board and search Savannah out among the other passengers?
What would be the better tack once he found her: Trance her and carry her off the train while attempting to avoid the notice of a few hundred witnesses? Or plop his ass into the seat next to her and give her a quick rundown on Breedmates, Rogues and other alien-spawned vampires right there on the Amtrak Number 59 to New Orleans?
Christ, what a disaster.
Not that he had a lot of choices here.
Gideon headed deeper into the terminal, mentally calculating potential outcomes of both less-than-ideal scenarios. As he stalked toward a corridor leading to the departure gates, he caught a whiff of something sickly sweet in the hallway.
Unmistakable to his Breed senses, the stench of a Rogue somewhere nearby.
Gideon glanced around, looking for the source of the odor. Nothing but humans in the station around him. Still, his nape prickled with certainty. His gaze slid to a yellow maintenance cone blocking the door to the ladies' room across the hall. He strode closer, and the foul scent of a feral vampire strengthened.
His talent penetrated the wood and steel swinging door, locking on to a pair of heat sources inside. One was massive and hulking. The other, tall and slender, frozen in place before the threat facing her.
Ah, f**k.
Savannah.
Gideon's entire body ignited in hot, ferocious rage. One second he was in the terminal hallway, the next he was in the closed public restroom, shoving past the overturned rubbish can and leaping on the Rogue--just as the suckhead was about to crowd into the stall to attack Savannah.
On a low growl, Gideon heaved the vampire away from Savannah. He drove the Rogue's spine into the wall of white sinks and dirty mirrors on the opposite side of the room. On impact, one of the old basins crashed to the floor, shattering on a heavy thump at Gideon's feet. Water sprayed from the broken spigot, hissing almost as fiercely as the feral vampire struggling to free itself of Gideon's unyielding hold.
The suckhead grunted and snarled, gnashing its yellowed fangs. It reeked of Bloodlust and the soured evidence of a recent feeding, but its amber eyes and thin, slitted pupils held the look of a ravenous beast still thirsting for blood.
That this beast had gotten so close to Savannah--mere seconds away from touching her, biting her, close enough to kill her--made Gideon's veins throb with the need to punish.
To eviscerate the son of a bitch who intended her harm.
And he would have, had Savannah not been in the room to witness it.
Her stricken face was reflected in the cracked glass of the mirror behind the Rogue's struggling bulk. Savannah's dark doe eyes were wide with terror, her pretty mouth dropped open in a silent scream as she stared at Gideon and the beast pinned between him and the restroom wall.
"Get out of here," Gideon told her, ready to end the suckhead and loath to do it in front of her. "Wait for me outside, Savannah. You don't want to see this."
But she didn't move. Maybe she couldn't. Or maybe it was the sheer tenacity of the woman, her sharp, curious mind, that would not give in to fright when the need for answers was stronger.
The Rogue bucked and thrashed, trying to throw Gideon off. There was little time to hesitate. The din of the terminal outside the restroom door would mask most of the sounds of struggle, but he had to end this quickly, before they drew unwanted attention. Gideon pulled one of his long daggers from the sheath beneath his black trench coat.
The suckhead's amber eyes rolled toward the movement. Awareness of his impending death flashed across the open-mawed sneer. He roared, one filthy hand shooting out to the side of him, grabbing for some kind of weapon of his own.
He didn't get the chance.
Gideon shifted his hold and brought his dagger up between their bodies. With a hard thrust, the blade sank deep, plunging into the center of the Rogue's chest. The suckhead froze, panting rapidly, the twin coals of his eyes fixed on Gideon, hideous face sagging in defeat.
Gideon held the dagger in place as the diseased Breed vampire shuddered around the killing length of titanium-edged steel.