Baines hadn’t been kidding. A long, wiry tabby was stalking around the hole, staring at Talia with brilliant green eyes. As cats went, it wasn’t pretty. One ear was torn. She could see its ribs. Its tail was missing patches of fur. And it was the size of a St. Bernard.
Talia froze, mesmerized by the lime-green stare. She could reach for her gun, but by the time she could draw it, she’d be vampire pâté.
“It’s there, isn’t it?” asked Baines.
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s fast. I’m a good shot, but I’ve only managed to wing it.”
“That’s so not what I want to hear right now.”
A second yowl rippled down the tunnel. Errata.
The cat sprang to attention, forgetting all about Talia.
Talia immediately took advantage of the reprieve. Bracing herself the best she could, she gripped Baines’s hand and hauled with all her vampire strength. She heaved him up, up until his other hand could grab the edge of the hole. That gave her a bit more stability, so she used her free hand to clutch a fistful of his coat and drag him forward. It was an awkward maneuver. He landed with a flop, using his elbows to lever himself the rest of the way out of the hole.
Talia got to her feet, grabbing Errata’s backpack. Baines got to his feet, but it was obvious he wasn’t up to much walking, much less running away. Talia wrapped his arm over her shoulders, taking his weight. Step one was accomplished. She’d found their man. The next order of business was to get him aboveground, preferably without getting chewed on along the way.
The first obstacle was the Evil Kitty. It was hunched into an unhappy ball, tail lashing, sending up a nonstop chorus of warbling yowls. Errata was answering in kind, her own tail whipping against the floor.
The werecougar was smaller than Talia would have expected, her body only about four feet long. Errata was packed with muscle, her fur a tawny golden brown except for her white chin and underbelly. Rather than hunkering down, she had one paw in the air, ready to swipe at her opponent.
The caterwauling blended into a continuous meeeoww w w w w owrr . Talia would have given a lot for earplugs.
She struggled to think past the racket. She’d never get Baines back through the tunnels to the Castle entrance, but there was a boat a short hobble away. Under the circumstances, a bit of piracy didn’t bother her, especially when the rightful owner was a villain.
A hop at a time, they started toward it. Baines was silent, his face gone ashen with pain.
“Do you know how to hotwire a boat?” Talia asked.
“Not. Done it. Long time,” Baines replied through his teeth.
But you have. Interesting. Talia eyeballed the vessel as they got closer. It was a small Ranger, okay for traveling close to shore. “It’s got an old Evinrude outboard. There’s a red plug on the main wire harness. Disconnect it and jump the starter straight from the battery. Just choke it down to kill the engine later.”
Baines frowned at her. “I thought you were a Latin teacher.”
“English Lit, actually, but I can say all that in Latin if you want.”
The cat picked that moment to pounce on Errata. Talia and Baines wheeled around to see the tabby grab Errata’s head and flip her, clawing her belly with its hind legs. The cougar raked the tabby between the ears.
“Into the boat!” Talia ordered, grabbing Baines by the arm and half lifting him over the side. “Call the cavalry. Try the werebears. Tell them we need more help down here. Bring everything they’ve got.”
Baines gave a single nod, discipline warring with worry in his face. “I’ll do that.”
In the tunnel, the cats separated, but only for seconds. Errata boxed her opponent, using strength where the other had speed. The tabby caught her in another grapple, but this time Errata threw her weight against the cat, bearing down and gripping with her long, curved teeth.
Talia glanced back at Baines. He was already working on the motor.
“If you call in your cop friends, keep them out of the tunnels. This fight isn’t for humans. Your guys can make their arrests topside.”
Errata howled in outrage as the tabby clawed at her eyes.
The outboard motor sparked to life. Talia suddenly felt light-headed with relief. He would make it out of danger.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.
“I’ve got to help Errata,” she said, getting to work on the rope tethering the boat to the mouth of the tunnel.
“Watch yourself.”
“Dead already, and I probably taste like it.” She cast the rope into the boat and walked away back into the tunnel.
One life saved. Now for the catfight.
She pulled her gun. This was getting to be one hell of a night. Just call me Dirty Harriet.
She braced her feet apart, raising the Airlite in both hands. “Here, kitty, kitty.”
Chapter 32
“It looks worse than it is,” Errata insisted. She’d wadded up some paper napkins she’d found in her knapsack and was pressing them against her head. “Scalp wounds bleed like crazy.”
They’d come to another tunnel junction. Talia looked both ways, her gun cupped in two hands. In the end, she’d frightened off the cat, but Baines had been right—it was too fast to get a clean shot. Not without risking Errata, who’d already been giving her all. Now the werecougar’s hazel eyes peered out of a mask of blood. The cat had ripped open her scalp badly enough that she hadn’t completely healed changing back to human form.
Good thing werebeasts didn’t smell like dinner, because she was starting to get hungry. “You look like you’re trying out for a role in a slasher flick.”
Errata rewadded the paper napkins, looking for a dry spot. “Harsh. Remind me not to take you shopping for bathing suits. My self-esteem wouldn’t survive it.”
“Actually, you’ve impressed me. Not everyone can fight.”
Errata gave a low laugh. “I have four older brothers.”
“That’d do it. Are you sure you don’t need to rest for a minute?”
“And risk a repeat visit from Whiskers? I don’t think so.”
When Errata fished her camera out again, Talia decided she had to be feeling okay, and kept moving. By now, they had to be near the spot with the hotel signs. She’d been hoping to meet up with Joe or Yaref, but no such luck.
“Sh!” Errata cocked her head, listening.
Talia strained her ears. Footsteps in the passageway. Silently, Talia got to her feet and slipped around the corner to see who was nearby.
She saw a man up ahead wearing a vest with the crossed-sword design. Max. What’s he doing by himself?
Errata was behind her. “Isn’t that your brother? The one who shot Perry?”
“Yeah. I need to talk to him.” He risked himself to save me.
“Are you sure he wants to talk to you?”
Her words sliced through Talia. “This might be the only chance I’ll ever get.”
“And after that?” Her words were cool.
Talia didn’t answer. Half of them might not make it home alive. She wasn’t going to make promises.
With vampire speed, she closed the distance between herself and her brother. When she was a few steps behind, she paced him, step for step, letting the emotion that jammed in her throat crest, and then drain away. She blinked hard, clearing her vision before she spoke.
“Max.”
Her brother wheeled, bringing his rifle to his shoulder with the speed of long practice. Then he fell back a step, his mouth falling open.
“Talia.” Her name came out in a croak. “Get out of here.”
“We have to talk. I’m still your sister. We played on the snow hill together. We sat at the same table every breakfast and dinner.” Until Dad effing stole my chair.
Max’s face twisted with fear. “Talia, for the love of God get out of here. If Dad finds you . . .”
Talia heard a scream, half-human, half-enraged feline. Errata! She whipped around, her gaze searching the tunnel.
She couldn’t see the werecougar, but there were more figures wearing the Hunter symbol on their clothes. The Hunters were converging on the spot Talia had left Errata. They have her!
Perry’s face flashed through her mind. They’d show no mercy to a werebeast, and what they could do to a female was even worse.
Max pushed past her, running toward the group and leaving her alone. He wasn’t brave or foolhardy enough to be caught talking to the enemy, even if it was his sister. Damn him!
Talia took a deep breath, shifting her grip on the Airlite. She wasn’t leaving Errata at their mercy. She started running toward the Hunters, her mind scrabbling for a plan.
Hard hands grabbed her from behind. “What are you thinking?”
“What the hell!” Talia twisted around. An enormous vampire loomed there, wearing a leather jacket and a ferocious scowl. Where had he come from?
“If you don’t stop and think, they’ll have you, too,” he said grimly, his ice-blue eyes so pale they looked almost white in the gloom. “Come on.”
He dragged her down the tunnel, not stopping until they reached a hollow in the stonework where they could take cover.
“Who are you?”
“Darak.”
So this was the mysterious rogue from the Empire. “Aren’t you supposed to be fighting topside?”
“I did my bit there. I had a promise to keep about dragging your ass out of the fire. Now I know why. You’re a bloody cowboy.”
“Lore made you promise?”
“No. Michelle.”
A sick feeling burned her. He talks to ghosts. “Was she all right?”
“Yeah. And she loved you.” His voice had the finality of a slamming door.
Talia turned away, hiding the tears that choked her. “Thanks. I guess..”
He grunted.
They were close enough that Talia could count the men. There were four, including Max. She knew all of them by name. One had been her neighbor.
Another was her father. Tall and lean, his gray hair shaved close to his skull, Mikhail Rostov was definitely in command. He turned her way for an instant, and Talia caught sight of his face. Deep lines cut from his nose to the corners of his mouth, emphasizing his unbending expression. Waves of anger and longing sang through her. She wanted to smash that expression off his face, to make him bend. In an anguished part of her heart, she wanted him to hold her and tell her she’d been a good girl.
She’d killed Belenos, but just seeing her father was infinitely worse.
Cold sweat trickled down the small of her back. There would be no reconciliation. The only thing she could do was make sure that he didn’t hurt her friends. She hoped that meant capturing him, but it might mean more.
“Are you okay?” Darak asked, studying her face.
“Yes,” Talia said, hearing her voice shake. “I used to be one of them.”
Talia realized what she’d just said, and felt her whole body turn to ice. This is where he fights me, or we fight the Hunters together.
But Darak seemed undisturbed as a block of granite. “They’ll kill you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. I’m a monster.”
He gave her a piercing look. “Only if you want to be. Being a vampire gives you power. How you use it is up to you.”
Talia couldn’t take her eyes from her father. “I want to pull their plug.”
The huge vampire made a satisfied noise. “Got a plan?”
“The Hunters will use Errata as a living shield. They’ll make their way to the exit assuming we’ll hang back, but they always kill their hostages at the last minute. The only chance we have of saving her is to get close enough to take out the Hunters before they know we’re there.”
Darak looked at her, a crease between his brows. “How do we do that?”
“Just get me one of their uniforms.”
“You sure about this?”
Frustrated, Talia snatched her sleeve, pulling it up, exposing the Hunter tattoo. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Okay, then.” Darak gave her a mock salute. “The killer babe is in charge.”
“Damned straight.”
“Stay here.” He slipped out of the hiding place, seeming to vanish once he reached the corridor. For such a huge man, that was impressive.
She leaned her head against the cold stone wall, simmering with impatience. Every memory of her long years of training flooded back to her. Planning what to do next took less than a minute. Most of the rescue would have to be improvisation, based on what she knew of the Hunters.
The hard part was turning on her family. It should have been easy, but right and wrong was for the brain. Going against the loyalties drummed into her from the cradle was going to break her heart.
But, sooner or later, she had to decide who Talia was. She wasn’t the soldier her father had left on the battlefield, or the monster he’d banished from his table—and she sure as hell wasn’t the scared girl who followed his orders even though her conscience screamed every time they went out on a hunt.
And none of that would mean a thing to him. Whatever she did next had to be done because it was right, not because it settled a score or proved a point. She would never change the way her father thought.
Darak returned with a Hunter’s vest, utility belt, and two rifles. “There were dead nearby,” he said tersely, thrusting the gear at her but keeping one rifle for himself. “I’ll lurk in the shadows. They didn’t have anything in my size.”
“You don’t need to come with me,” Talia said. “I can do this alone.”
“Sure you can,” he said, watching her pull the vest over her blood-spattered clothes. “Shut up and tell me what you’re going to do.”
A surge of gratitude loosened the knot of apprehension in her chest. “I catch up to them. The uniform will fool them for about a second, but hopefully that’s all I need.”
“For what?”
“Follow my lead.”
“I don’t like that plan.”
“Too bad.” Talia took off at a run, praying they weren’t too late.
The Hunters were only a few minutes away from the exit in the Castle alley. As Talia had predicted, her father had a gun to Errata’s head. Max walked next to him. There were two other Hunters following in the rear. She could see the red glint of hellhound eyes in the shadows up ahead, watching the Hunters as they passed, but the hounds were helpless to attack. Talia prayed the hounds recognized her as a friend, despite the borrowed gear.
Talia caught up to the uniformed men. Her father turned to acknowledge the troop joining his team, and in that split second Talia had to act. She gave a short, sharp whistle, the band’s signal for danger ahead.
As she’d hoped, every Hunter jerked their attention forward, away from her. Talia smashed the butt of her rifle into her old neighbor’s head, knocking him unconscious, then delivered a solid kick to the man on her other side.
Surprise was on her side. Talia wheeled and kicked the rifle out of her father’s hand and yanked Errata out of his grasp. “Go!” she yelled.
Errata sprinted for freedom.
Talia’s heart leaped with victory. She spun around, ready to follow, but her luck ran dry. She felt her gun hand wrenched behind her back, the sudden pain forcing her to drop her weapon. She swung her free arm, only to feel the slice of a blade so sharp it took a moment for the nerves to summon pain. A moment later, there was the cold kiss of a knife at her throat.
“How dare you show your face to me?”
The rough, hard edge of her father’s voice sawed through her, bringing a rush of confused emotions. Panic. Disbelief. Disappointment. Hatred. Somewhere under all that, the memory of loving him.
“Don’t kill me, Daddy.” She could see the tip of the knife from the corner of her eye. It was the big Bowie knife her father had always carried. Big enough to—eventually—take off her head.
“Please, Daddy.”
“I’m not your father.”
“No, don’t!” yelled M
ax.
She felt the knife bite into her skin. The sharp, hot pain wrenched a scream from her.
The news from aboveground was good. The queen was safe and under the watchful eyes of Clan Thanatos as well as her own armed guard.
While Lore’s hounds secured the dense south end of the tunnels, his Beta’s crew and the wolves of Pack Silvertail had tightened the other sides of the net. Many of Belenos’s vampires had been caught or killed. When the news came that Talia was safe and had killed their sire, the fight had gone out of them.
More hounds and wolves had arrived with the werebears. Baines had called them, and they arrived just in time to have a share in the final roundup. There was also a heavy police contingent aboveground, covering every exit they could find.
Lore was satisfied with the progress so far, but there were too many questions left unanswered. To begin with, where was Talia? No one had seen her or Errata since they’d been separated from Joe.
Instead, he found Mavritte leaning against a wall, her leathers running with blood. She was staring at the floor.
Lore studied her face. “Thank you for fighting so bravely today.”
“I am no coward.” She gave him a hard look. “I have not forgotten my challenge to you.”
“Even with everything that has happened tonight?”
“What has this to do with the pack? It is a war of vampires. Hellhound business has not been resolved.” She turned her face away, speaking so softly he barely heard her. “Though I see what you love in your vampire.”
That surprised him. “You do?”
“She killed her sire. She is a warrior without fear. But she is not one of us.”
“Does that matter so much?”
She looked sad and tired. “The pack leaders must put the pack before all. How can a vampire put the hounds first? It goes against nature.”
Lore was silent.
“Without a strong Alpha, there will be no future for us. No anything. The legends say there will be no young.”
“You speak of legends. Traditions. We live in a different world now.”
Mavritte poked him in the chest. She smelled of sweat and blood and gunpowder. “Do you not dream in prophecy? Do you not smell evil on the air? Are we not demon kin? You cannot believe what you want and ignore the rest.”
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