by Helen Harper
‘Tell me!’ I repeat.
‘You’re the only bloodguzzler out on the streets. Every other freak of nature is tucked away inside their fortresses, thinking they’re safe. Medici made sure of that.’ She smirks. ‘They’re not going to be safe for long.’
There’s a sudden loud boom. At first I think it’s a clap of thunder but thunder doesn’t make the earth shake. It’s not an earthquake either. My eyes meet O’Shea’s and he whispers the same thing that I’m thinking. ‘Bomb.’
I release Tara instantly. She collapses back into her chair but I don’t waste time on her – I’m already sprinting out of the door. By the time I’m halfway down the street, I hear another boom from somewhere further across the city. My heart is pounding painfully in my chest. I have to get to Michael. I have to get to him now.
There’s a screech of tires and a siren screams into action. An ambulance comes up beside me with O’Shea at the wheel. He doesn’t stop it, simply reaches across to open the passenger door whilst the vehicle’s still moving. I leap inside and slam the door shut.
‘Drive,’ I say breathlessly, ‘drive.’
He puts his foot down. We careen down the street, twisting first one way then the other.
‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ he says as he swerves to narrowly avoid a group of surprised office workers on their way to lunch. ‘How could they bomb the Family houses? How would a bomb get inside?’
My mouth is dry. ‘Because Medici made sure that all the Families were going to match his recruitment drive. They didn’t have time to spare on security like they would usually. Even after what happened with Nicky, they cared about nothing more than matching Medici, bloodguzzler for bloodguzzler. Tov V’ra must have made sure that their people were inside.’
‘Suicide bombers? But that’s nuts.’
‘Everything about them is nuts,’ I say, fear causing my hackles to rise. No wonder Isaac was laughing: he knew he’d already won. I picture Michael’s face, the way his hair flops over his forehead and the warmth in his eyes when he looks at me. There have only been two explosions so far. He might still be okay. Then there’s another explosion, followed immediately by another.
‘Faster!’ I scream.
The Montserrat mansion comes into view. It’s no longer the vast, proud edifice it once was; at least half of it has been turned into a pile of smoking rubble. Flames spring out from it. I feel like I can’t breathe. I think I scream again but I’m no longer sure. All around us there are car alarms and screams and shouts and the noise is unlike anything I’ve ever heard before.
O’Shea slams on the brakes. There’s a mess of twisted metal from cars blocking the street. The ambulance isn’t going any further.
Without waiting for O’Shea, I kick open the door and launch myself out. I can still get to Michael, I have to get to him. I jump over the charred mess of what was probably once a person and push myself faster. Adrenaline courses through my system; right now it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
I wheel round, ready to plunge inside, find Michael and rescue whoever else I can. Matt and Beth and Nell and Ria and Ursus and everyone else.
A ring of steel latches round my arm and yanks me back. I stumble and fall. ‘Let go of me!’
X’s face blurs into focus. ‘If you try to go in, you will die. You’re not strong enough.’
‘Fuck off!’ I try to wrench myself away but he has me stuck fast. In one swift movement, he crouches and takes hold of my knee. Before I can say or do anything, he twists it hard and pain rips through me. He’s broken my leg. I snarl in his face.
‘It’s the only way, Bo. You won’t make it if you go in. You’ll heal quickly – just not quickly enough.’
‘X! You can’t do this. You can’t!’
There’s another loud bang as the remaining windows blow out. Glass flies everywhere, a multitude of shards biting into my flesh. I ignore them.
‘I beat them. I beat the Tov V’ra. This isn’t fair!’
X sighs. His face looms closer. ‘They’re not who you were really up against, Bo.’ A sad smile lights his face. He’s not using any glamour; he’s in full Kakos daemon mode, his tattoos writhing and twisting their terrible dark path across his skin.
‘Come any closer, Devlin, and I will kill her!’ he calls over my shoulder.
I stagger to my feet. I don’t care if my leg is broken. X can snap every damn bone in my body. I’m going in.
He grabs hold of me again. ‘I’m growing tired of this, Bo. Stop it.’
I look into his face. The billowing smoke makes tears run down my face. I stare at him and gasp. ‘This was you. This was all you.’
He slides his gaze away. ‘Yes and no. It wasn’t just me, it was the Kakos daemons as a group. The Families have been using us as scapegoats for their actions for decades. They’ve been getting far too uppity. We decided it was time to do something about it.’
‘This is why you were so desperate for me to find Lisa Johnson. You needed something to keep me away from Medici. You’ve been working with him.’
He shakes his head. ‘No. I did need you to keep away from him, but we’re not working with him. We don’t work with anyone.’ He gazes at me meaningfully. ‘We manipulate everyone.’
Including me. ‘There have only been four explosions, you prick! Not five.’
He holds up his index finger. ‘Wait for it.’ All of a sudden there’s another one, coming from the east. From where Medici will be. A smile tugs at X’s mouth, a goddamned smile. ‘There’s nothing worse than thinking you’re home and free and then having everything you know completely wiped out,’ he says softly.
I kick upwards with my one good leg, connecting with his groin. For once, he doesn’t move away in time but I’m rewarded with little more than a pained grimace.
I start limping towards the huge house. I can still find Michael. He can’t be dead yet, I would feel it in my heart if he were. Agony shoots through me but I don’t care. I’m going to do this.
There’s a heavy sigh from behind me. ‘In about ninety seconds, the entire building is going to collapse.’ I ignore him. X continues. ‘You’ll barely make it to the front door.’
I keep going. It’s only twenty feet further. The huge midnight-blue doors might be hanging off their hinges but I can still get inside; there are benefits to being petite. I don’t think about the death and destruction I’m facing; I don’t even think about X. The only thing on my mind is Michael.
‘Bo. I do like you despite all your faults. I didn’t necessarily approve of this course of action, you know.’ I keep limping forward. The closer I get, the stronger the wall of heat is. The fires inside must be blazing at unbelievable temperatures. No, no, no, no, no. X speaks louder as though trying to cut through my pain. ‘I can save one.’
One.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘It’s the best I can do. Name one person and I will get them. If they are still alive.’
Flames blast from the door, licking their way towards me as if they have a mind of their own. I’m thrown backwards once more.
‘Name one, Bo.’
Matt. Nell. Beth. My heart screams in agony. There’s only one choice. It’s not even a choice. Michael. Save Michael.
‘As you wish.’ While my weak, traitorous body gives way and I fall forward onto my hands and knees, X’s shape flies forward. The searing heat doesn’t seem to bother him. Less than ten seconds later, there’s a vast deafening rumble. As I scream, O’Shea grabs me under my arms and drags me away. Then, right in front of my eyes, the entire structure collapses.
***
I’m not quite sure what happens next. I don’t faint or fall unconscious but it’s as if everything fades into the background. I’m aware of O’Shea murmuring things in my ear but I have no idea what he’s saying. It’s not until we’re standing in the door of my apartment that I realise where I am.
‘We can’t be here. This belongs to X. He’s killed them all, Devlin. He’s…’
; ‘Shh. We have to get Maria and Kimchi.’
‘And me.’ I look over to see Rogu3. He rushes towards me, wrapping his arms tightly round my body. ‘As soon as I saw the news, I tried to come. I tried to get to the Montserrat mansion because I thought that’s where you’d be. All the streets are blocked off. The only other place I could think of to come is here.’
‘There is no Montserrat mansion,’ I murmur. ‘Not any more.’ I pull away from him. Maria is in her usual place on the sofa but this time she is hugging Kimchi. He licks her face and whines.
‘Look,’ she says. She points the remote control at the television, turning up the volume. The images flit from Montserrat to Gully to Stuart to Bancroft to Medici. Every vampire stronghold is now nothing more than a pile of rubble.
‘We don’t know at this time,’ intones the news anchor over the live feed, ‘whether indeed any vampires have survived. It’s possible that in one fell swoop they have been completely obliterated.’
‘Que sera sera,’ I whisper. Then I walk over to the television and put my fist through the screen. Everyone flinches. ‘We have to get out of here. Now.’
‘Where are we going to go?’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t know. But this place belongs to a Kakos daemon and Kakos daemons are responsible for this. We have to get out of here and hide.’
Rogu3 coughs. ‘Bo.’ I glance up but he’s not looking at me. Something or someone is behind me. X.
I turn. Kimchi whimpers and buries himself further into the crook of Maria’s arm. ‘Even my dog knows what you really are. I am going to kill you.’
‘No, you’re not, Bo.’ He looks down at the body in his arms. ‘I told you before, none of this was my decision. And I can’t apologise for what was inevitable.’ He sighs. ‘But I did promise revenge if anyone discovered my identity.’ He sweeps a look round the tiny assembly. ‘I am a man of my word. And I did tell you I was petty.’
X kneels, placing Michael’s limp form on the floor. I rush forward, falling down by Michael’s head and cradling his face in my hands. At first I don’t see it. Then I freeze and lean over him. His breath is hot against my cheek.
‘He’s alive.’ I clasp my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe it. ‘He’s alive!’
X sighs. ‘I am sorry, Bo.’ He places a hand on my head, a gentle pressure. ‘I did promise you my revenge and here it is. It’s going to be worse than you could have imagined.’
I consider stabbing him in the gut but he simply laughs. He doesn’t sound amused, more sad. A moment later he’s gone.
O’Shea kneels down at the other side of Michael. I smooth my fingers over Michael’s face, still unable to believe what I’m seeing. Nothing good has come out of this day but if he’s still here, there is hope.
‘Bo,’ O’Shea says. I don’t pay him any attention. ‘Bo, look!’
I frown. ‘What?’
‘Can’t you see it?’
Alarm bells start ringing inside my head. ‘See what?’
O’Shea reaches over and gingerly lifts up Michael’s right eyelid. His iris and pupil are only just visible. ‘Now do you see it?’
I stare. My mouth drops open as Michael starts to cough and splutter, coming slowly back to consciousness. He groans, his features twisting in terrible pain.
‘Oh God,’ I whisper. ‘X. That’s his revenge. That’s what he meant.’
Michael’s eyes focus on me. He wets his lips. ‘Bo. You’re still here.’
I try to smile. I look into Michael’s now-human eyes and I really do try to smile. He’s alive. That’s what matters.
Thank you SO much for reading Vigilante Vampire! I really hope you enjoyed it and it would mean a huge amount if you could take the time to leave a review. Reviews make a very big difference to independent authors and any feedback is always welcome.
To make sure you never miss out on any new releases, you can sign up for my newsletter at http://helenharper.co.uk The next Bo Blackman book will be published later in 2016. In the meantime, turn over the page to read an exclusive extract from Gifted Thief, the first book in a new series which will be published in January.
Gifted Thief – Exclusive sneak peek!
Prologue
The girl with no name scurried down the corridor, hiking up her skirt to avoid the hem from trailing along the dusty floor. She’d already been in trouble once today for her appearance when the cook had cuffed her ear for wearing a stained apron. The fact that it was stained simply because she’d been in the garden and picking mudberries on the cook’s orders didn’t seem to matter. It was one thing, however, to be told off in the kitchen; it was quite another for it to happen in the grand hall in front of goodness knows who.
She hadn’t been in the Bull’s presence for months. The last time she was summoned it was to make up numbers at a cocktail party. Not, of course, as a guest; it was her role to hold up canapés to the mingling party goers – no mean feat for someone who was short for her age and surrounded by towering Sidhe adults.
She barely lasted ten minutes. Once the Bull spotted her, staring at her with dark glittering eyes, his skin suffusing with a mottled angry red, she was ushered away and scolded for drawing attention to herself. Since then she’d kept well out of his way, even risking the wrath of the cook by taking the long way round the dusty palace and arriving even later for her daily duties than she normally did. Frankly, she’d do just about anything to avoid the Bull’s terrifying gaze.
Rounding the corner at high speed, and worried about what was expected of her, she was less alert than she should have been. Colliding with the delicate, elfin form of Tipsania, she sent them both crashing to the ground; her bare feet became tangled with the other girl’s ornate skirts, the heavy fabric inextricably wrapping itself around her ankles.
‘You stupid bitch!’
The girl yanked hard, attempting to free herself. There was an ominous rip of fabric as she finally pulled away, then she received a hard kick from Tipsania for her efforts.
Ignoring the sharp burst of pain, she scrambled to her feet then bent down to help the other girl stand up. Tipsania glared at the proffered hand as if it belonged to a cockroach instead of a child. She still took it, though.
‘You should bloody well watch where you’re going,’ she hissed. ‘Now I look as if I’ve been dragged through a muddy puddle. Don’t they teach you how to keep clean?’
The girl ducked her head down, mumbling an apology.
Tipsania clicked her teeth in disgust. ‘Byron will think I’ve been raised in a hovel. I’ll simply have to go and change.’ She spat, an astoundingly unladylike gesture for someone of her rank.
The girl’s eyes flew upwards. ‘Byron?’ She’d heard of him, of course. The privileged son of the Sidhe Steward Aifric Moncrieffe was well known around the court for his youthful misdemeanours. Only seventeen years old, he was already living up to his namesake as mad, bad and dangerous to know. It didn’t make sense, however, that he’d be coming here. Little as the girl knew, even she was aware that the Moncrieffes held little love for the Scrymgeour Clan, even though they worked together from time to time.
She swallowed the knot of pain that appeared in her throat. Was that why she’d been summoned? Was it an opportunity for the upper echelons of Sidhe royalty to sneer at her, as well as the lower ranks she normally dealt with?
Tipsania’s lip curled. ‘You don’t think he’s going to be interested in you, do you? A dirty urchin?’ She leaned in more closely, her smooth honey-coloured hair tickling the girl’s cheek. ‘A bastard?’
The girl drew back. Her parentage wasn’t her fault. If she could change it, she would. It was incredibly unfortunate for her that her pure white hair and violet eyes reminded everyone of just who her father was.
She opened her mouth to answer back then snapped it shut again, thinking better of it. Tipsania had made an art form out of underhand cruelty that could extend for weeks when she thought she had been slighted. There was no point in antagonising her unn
ecessarily, tempting as it might be.
The girl dipped her head again, casting her eyes downward and hoping that her act of submission would encourage Tipsania to forget the flare of rebellion that had flickered across her face.
A door opened several metres away and the low hum of voices reached the girl’s ears. Her eyes snapped up, wary of who was about to join them. She received another sharp kick from Tipsania in response.
‘Well, well, well,’ drawled a deep voice. ‘What do we have here?’
This time, the girl kept her head firmly down.
‘Byron!’ Tipsania tittered, her previously harsh tone now muted to a breathy giggle. ‘Are you lost? We’re supposed to be in the grand hall.’
‘Just exploring, Tipsy,’ he replied easily. ‘Who’s this?’
The girl with no name felt his gaze burning into her. She told herself not to look up.
Tipsania’s lip curled. ‘She’s the one.’
‘Really?’ Byron sounded curious. He reached out, his fingers brushing under the girl’s chin, tilting it up so that she was forced to meet his eyes.
She shrank back, terrified of the new horrors that were about to visited on her. Byron’s appearance certainly lived up to the hype. His hair, so golden in colour that it mimicked burnished bronze, fell artfully across his forehead. His skin was tanned, without a blemish, and his eyes glittered emerald green. He towered over her, a tiny furrow on his forehead as he took in her appearance.
‘She’s a filthy thing,’ Tipsania dismissed. ‘I don’t know why you’d want to bother with her. Look at what she did to my dress! She’s going to pay for that.’
Byron’s expression turned stony, flecks of frozen ice reflected in his brilliant irises. He flicked a glance at the older girl then back again. ‘You’re right,’ he said finally, ‘she is pathetic. If I were you I wouldn’t even speak to her.’ Without another word, he withdrew his hand and bowed in Tipsania’s direction. ‘My lady,’ he murmured. Then he strode off.
