by Cecy Robson
Misha’s four remaining vampires were fastened to the large wooden beams by chains. The hum of the metal told me they’d been reinforced with magic. The witch had too much power. She definitely topped my “needing to die” list.
Misha’s family hissed with rage, fighting against the chains. Tears stained their blood-smeared cheeks. They barely noticed us enter for how badly they hurt for Misha, cringing with each roar from their master’s pain. Their hatred could have singed the pillars. They wanted to spill blood, and, as the bloodlusters watching the show parted like a curtain, I very much wanted to give them the opportunity.
All I could see was the vampire’s bare, muscular back as his arm sliced across Misha’s chest with a cursed gold dagger. But his crew-cut blond hair gave him away.
Petro. Misha’s so-called brother. The so-called weakling.
Good God. Never underestimate the underdog.
Petro carved into Misha’s body with an arc of his hand, appearing more an artist painting a masterpiece than a monster cleaving into a being who breathed and hurt.
Petro glanced over his shoulder. The polite smile he usually demonstrated was gone, replaced by one so filled with malice, I wanted to cringe from it. Except the growing need to make hamburger out of his throat kept my gaze locked on his jugular. No, Petro wasn’t weak. He was simply a master manipulator and one hell of an actor.
“Good evening, Celia.” He stepped aside, giving me a full view of Misha. My heart clenched. I tried to look away, but my captor yanked my head back so I could take in the state of my guardian angel.
Misha’s head drooped against his chest, draping his blood-soaked hair against his knees. Droplets of red fell like rain against the dark marble floor. He wheezed with every ragged breath. The hilts of two gold daggers protruded from his thighs, anchoring him into the large wooden throne and sending the cursed gold to poison his blood. Like the damn gold chains wrapped around his open, nonhealing wounds weren’t enough.
Misha slowly raised his head—a miracle, considering Petro’s efforts should have killed him by now. Petro had made mincemeat of Misha’s once beautiful face. His strong gray eyes were fogged over from pain. But when he fixed them on me, they cleared like the sun breaking through an ugly storm, showing me his fury and the strength that remained. I couldn’t hear his thoughts, but his unsaid words rang clear. He wasn’t ready to die. And I wasn’t ready to let him.
Petro drove his dagger into a side wooden table and removed the thick rubber gloves he wore. He extended his arms so his servants could circle him and lick Misha’s splattered blood clean from his body. “What’s the matter, Celia? You don’t look well, my darling.”
I always look this way before I kill someone. “Don’t call me your darling. I felt sorry for you!”
Petro smiled, his familiar gentle demeanor returning, although this time I knew it was all a lie. “Everyone did, darling. That’s what made my coup that much easier. All I needed was time, and a little patience.” He glanced over at Misha in a strangely adoring manner. “Time I likely wouldn’t have had if my brother hadn’t spared me from our grand master’s destruction.”
I closed my eyes tight, trying to calm my raging beast. The whip would crush my larynx before I finished changing. But my increasing fury made it hard to focus. Petro had used Misha. Hell, he’d used all of us. Prick. “Tell me, Petro. Was it you or your witch who discovered how to magic the bloodlust into viral form?”
I opened my eyes to catch Petro’s frown. He didn’t like my putting a damper on his big reveal. “The theory was mine. I just needed to find the right enchantress strong enough to work the spell.” He approached the witch, who continued to regard my sisters and me with loathing, calming only slightly when Petro kissed her lips. He whispered against her mouth, “My love uses her blood and magic to create the virus. Thus a part of her lives inside the infected vampires, permitting her to control them.”
Petro’s witch refocused her dark, hateful stare on me, but otherwise said nothing. Petro stepped away from her and took a breath just to flex his supersize vamp mojo. Sheer waves of vampiric force rippled across the room, rattling the windows and shoving us back. I grimaced. I didn’t like the feel of Petro, and neither did my inner beast. The power that pampered and played around him dug needles into my skin and pushed them out through my pores. Damn it. Petro had never been weak, but was rather freakishly strong. Strong enough to hide the true extent of his power. No wonder he shook and resembled an ad for Right Guard; concealing that much power must have been like trying to brace back a crumbling dam. Now he held nothing back. Not that he could have. After all, he’d absorbed the power of three ancient vampires after we’d killed them for him.
“Where’s the fourth judge?”
Petro scowled. He didn’t like my interrupting his show of force either. “Upstairs, waiting like a good little puppet for slaughter.”
“The judge isn’t with them?” Shayna asked. Her voice trembled and stayed low; she didn’t want to attract attention to herself, but still wanted answers.
I shook my head. Big mistake, seeing how the whip had rubbed my skin raw. “No. Just Zhahara…until they no longer needed her.”
The corners of Petro’s smile lifted. “You have it all figured out, don’t you?”
“I’m smarter than I look.”
Taunting a master vampire of his caliber probably fell under the same danger category as swimming in a pool filled with anglerfish, or wearing red at a werebull convention. But if Petro targeted me, it would distract him from hurting my sisters…at least for the moment.
“I take it you heard of Zhahara and Misha’s breakup and used her anger to get her to do what you wanted.”
“Every great conqueror must take advantage of opportunity when it arises.” Petro spun like a top and kicked Misha in the face. Bones broke with a sickening crunch. The vampires hissed, except for Misha.
“You are courageous when your victim is tied down. Free me, and attempt to strike me again,” he snarled through shattered fangs.
Petro drew back his foot.
“What’s with the stuffed zebra heads, Pete? Did you kill them to impress slutty spell wielders?” My eyes danced to the witch. “I see that it worked.”
“Celia, please be quiet.”
Emme preferred I remain silent. I preferred to distract them from Misha, and from the spark of magic Taran had slyly called forth. Taran cut her eyes to mine, her irises already blanching from the gamut of power she’d quietly gathered. She would release it soon in one giant phoenix of energy—incapacitating her completely, but hopefully giving us time to escape. She dropped her head at the sight of my subtle nod, allowing her dark waves to hide her face.
Without a word, Petro’s family released Misha’s vampires and shoved them through the wide French doors leading out to a stone terrace. They attempted to thrust their way back to Misha, but the sheer number of Petro’s family easily held them back. Petro smiled. “I suggest you run.”
Something like the sound of locks snapping rang the length of the upstairs hall before bare and heavy feet thundered above us. Twelve severely infected vampires leaped over the railing. The closest one grabbed one of Petro’s keep and tore into his neck like corn on the cob before the witch regained control over her.
Misha spit blood from his mouth. “Run!” he ordered his vampires. They paused briefly before racing across the terrace and leaping over the railing. The witch brought her hand down like an Indy 500 flag and the bloodlusters barreled after them, graceful in their movements despite their hulking forms.
Petro motioned six of the vampires holding assault rifles forward, including his driver. “Keep them in your sights.” They bowed to Petro and quickly followed.
If I could have, I would have gone after Petro’s throat then. Misha’s vampires were far from kind, but they loved Misha, and he cared for them as much as any master could. And with his final breath he’d know his family was hunted down and mutilated.
The infec
ted vampire holding me twisted my arm, making me grunt. “I’m going to enjoy watching you scream,” he whispered in my ear.
My temper took over and put me in touch with my inner Taran. “Is that what you tell Petro when you play with his boys?”
The vampire hissed. But it was the witch who spoke. “You need to learn respect,” she said in that odd little-girl voice. Her coal-colored eyes simmered as she smiled. So not a good sign. She yanked one of Shayna’s daggers from her holster and sashayed toward me, her long, sheer yellow gown flaring like a trickling stream behind her.
Oh, great. It was one of Shayna’s pointier numbers, too.
The bloodluster holding me tugged back my long hair, exposing the flesh of my neck the whip didn’t cover. She pressed the pointy tip into my jugular. It hurt, but I wasn’t the one who screamed.
The dagger launched into the wooden beam where Petro’s head had leaned seconds before. Emme had attempted to take out Petro on her own. Except he now harnessed the power of three ancient vampires, and their speed as well. Even if Emme had managed to stab him, it wouldn’t have been enough to end his life.
Petro’s tramp resented the attempt. She glared, shaking out her wrist. Emme had wrenched it hard to steal the knife. She stomped toward Emme, losing her swagger. My fangs shot out like bullets the moment her hand connected hard against Emme’s face.
She slapped her over and over again. Emme’s choked sobs pounded my eardrums with every strike. Finally she stepped away when Petro grabbed her wrist and kissed it. “My love, please calm. There are more ways we can play.” He flashed Emme a predator’s grin. He bent, his hand disappearing beneath the hem of Emme’s long skirt. Emme’s face paled and her eyes glassed over with terror, but Petro’s hand didn’t get far. I kicked out my leg and brought it down hard, cleaving Petro’s hand off with my back claws.
I growled over his screams. “Keep your goddamn hands off her!”
My claws had connected with an artery. Petro’s blood spilled out with the force of a busted fire hydrant. The severely infected vampires went insane upon seeing the hot spring of red. They tackled him at full speed, breaking through the witch’s hold, feasting on him like piranha. Petro’s family attacked in an attempt to defend their howling master. The witch shrieked her incantations, sending her power out through her hands. But that only garnered the attention of a very thirsty bloodluster.
My nails sliced through my binds and tore out my captor’s heart before I yanked free of the whip. I cut Shayna and Emme free, careful to avoid Taran’s building power. Blue and white flames encased her form as her magic synthesized into a small inferno. The entirety of her eyes went white as she surrendered to a deep trance. I dove on Misha, yanking the daggers from his thighs so fast he doubled over in agony. “Hang in there, fairy godfather. I’m gonna need you real soon.”
He hissed low and deep. “That’s guardian angel, my dear.”
My fingers ached from how hard I yanked off the first chain fastening him to the chair. I threw it to Shayna. She willed the chains to separate and transformed them into two deadly gold swords, slicing into the first bloodluster who approached her.
Shayna cut off the infected vampire’s arm as he reached for her, but despite her skill and speed, she couldn’t fight him by herself.
Emme made sure she wasn’t alone.
Glass shattered as Emme sent the two knights charging after the infected vampire. The “WTF” brain pause distracted the vampire enough for Shayna to launch Petro’s cursed gold dagger into the vamp’s chest, erupting his heart like a volcano.
The knights and Shayna forged after another loose vamp. Emme didn’t know how to fight. But her metal soldiers felt no pain and held sharp and deadly weapons within their grasps.
The witch screamed with rage, regaining control of the infected vampires and ordering them to attack—us. Emme launched three into the wall. Except she didn’t stop there. With her ears covered tight to muffle the vampires’ agonized bellows, she yanked their lolling heads away from their bodies. Flesh strained and tore like fabric as Emme ripped their skulls from their torsos. She collapsed with tears of angst and fury leaking from her eyes, but then quickly crawled to my side to help me unravel Misha’s binds with her force.
Two more chains left. Taran’s surging magic made my hair stand on end. Blood and ash rained as Shayna sliced and diced through anyone attempting to reach us. “Hurry, Celia. There’s too many!”
One chain left.
Taran released her power with a guttural roar.
“Cover your eyes!” I screamed over the chaos.
Even with my eyes closed, the explosion of light was blinding. I blinked the spots away as the light receded like a slow-dimming bulb. Clumps of ash spread like sand around the foyer amid the destroyed antechamber. The witch held Petro’s still, bleeding body against hers as she sobbed. Though more vampires spread throughout the grounds, Taran’s magic-borne sunlight had obliterated the majority of Petro’s vampires.
Shots fired outside followed by the familiar sounds of the naughty Catholic schoolgirls wailing in triumph. Yes! They’d taken the guns out of their enemies’ hands and now they planned on using them.
Emme raced to Taran, who collapsed to her knees, all magicked out.
The black irises of Petro’s witch expanded, encasing the scleras. She released Petro and pounded toward us, generating a giant yellow-and-black fireball in her hands. She aimed the blaze at me. I abandoned Misha, diving behind a wooden pillar. Chunks of wood pelted me like hail as the pillar exploded. Shayna launched one of her swords. The shimmering gold blade disintegrated into powder from the heat of the witch’s protective shields, inches from her chest.
I swore, not knowing how to fight magic without magic.
Misha screamed, his body straining beneath the sickening effect of the cursed gold chains. I thought the poison rushing through his body had burned him, until the force of Tahoe’s magic shattered the windows and jetted inside in a ray of blue sparkles. Through his pain, Misha had called upon the power of the lake. Except instead of accepting it into his failing body, he shot it right into Taran’s core.
Taran’s body arched from the crash of energy. She rose in a single motion, her irises clear and focused on her target.
The witch’s fury beat against my body like a drum. “No!” she screamed.
“Oh, yes,” Taran hissed back.
CHAPTER 34
Blue and white fire clashed with yellow and black as both women went for the kill.
From somewhere in the distance a wolf howled. “Koda!” Shayna screamed.
I shoved her and Emme through one of the demolished windows. “Get to the wolves!” I urged. Shayna nodded once and took off into the darkness. I grabbed Emme’s arm before she could follow. “And find Aric.”
Emme’s eyes widened. I caught a glimpse of her smile before she ran off as fast as her little feet could carry her, trailed closely by the two clanging and sword-wielding knights. More shots fired in the distance, followed by the sounds of Misha’s vampires hissing with vengeance.
I rushed back to Misha. He slumped against the chains, his breaths shallow. He could have used Tahoe to save himself. But instead he gave Taran the power to protect us. Not bad for a master vamp.
The last chain was thinner, but knotted as if welded together, making it impossible to break through. My claws bled beneath the skin as I yanked and tugged.
Petro’s witch hollered as she vented her displeasure on Taran. Taran threw herself to the floor to avoid a deadly strike. She scrambled to her knees, sending a funnel of fire barreling into the witch’s torso with a mighty shriek. The dark magic ate the light. The witch mixed it with hers, striking Taran with a burst of flame that blasted her through the wall.
I roared in horror, thinking Taran was dead…until I caught her alarmingly “crispy” scent drawing nearer. She scrambled through what remained of the wall, resembling a giant piece of charcoal, her head bald, and her clothes in tatters. She rubbed her
face, revealing perfectly healthy skin. As she ran her hands over her scorched head, her beautiful, wavy dark hair reappeared. She flicked her arms clean with a little magical brush of her fingertips.
I almost fell over with shock. Tahoe’s magic amplified her shields, saving her once more.
Taran locked her crystal eyes on her astonished foe. “My turn.”
Taran gathered her magic and launched a meteor-size blue-and-white fireball. Petro’s witch screamed once. And detonated like a car bomb. Something, maybe her kidney, hit me in the face. The explosion ignited the drapes and paintings in a wash of fire. Flames shot toward the ceiling, lighting the wood beams and pillars like rice paper. Taran’s power combined with Tahoe’s turned the mansion into an instant inferno.
Taran gawked at the flames eating away at the wood paneling. “Son of a bitch!”
“Taran, get out!” I yanked harder on Misha’s chains. “I’ll be right behind you!”
Taran took a few hesitant steps back, unsure whether to leave me. But the flaming piece of plaster that landed by her feet motivated her to listen. She reared back, clambering through the shattered windows and swearing as the broken glass sliced her legs.
Falling embers burned my back, and the growing flames heated Misha’s chains. Screw this. I gave up on freeing Misha and began to drag him across the room.
I’d just crossed the foyer when I caught a jerky movement out of the corner of my eye. Uh…oh.
Petro staggered to his mutilated feet, resembling a skinned, bloody corpse more than an evil, omnipotent master vampire. His eyes scanned the area like a stoned meth addict, disbelief twisting his raw face. He clenched his remaining fist and screamed, bulging his exposed muscles until they popped and expanded, adding bulk and lengthening his small stature. His incisors shot out past his jaw as his body morphed like a giant inflatable doll.
Terror had me yanking the last chain off in one pull. “Okay, Misha. Time to show me what you got.”
