Nightshade's Bite (Blood Wars)

by Zoe Forward

“Need company?” one of the guys asked while leering at her chest.

  “I’m in need of a moment alone. Thank you.” She sashayed toward the veranda doors, briefly admiring the craftsmanship of the room. She’s studied the floor plan with Finn several days ago. The entire thirty-six-bedroom monstrosity had been inspired by a sixteenth-century Scottish castle Viktor’s father lusted after but couldn’t steal two centuries ago. Like a castle, the interior was airy, drafty, and smelled of cleansers attempting to hide mildew. With all the wonderful modern conveniences, why be true to the late nineteenth century? He’d installed electricity and had a few heat pumps out back to warm up the place, but even the use of electricity had been implemented at a minimum.

  Chilly air cut through her clothes when she stepped outside. Snow drifted in the air, laying down a new dust of powder over the few feet from yesterday. Snow was atypical for Milan, which usually only had snow one day every four to five years. The stone walkways had already been cleared and salted. A couple of vampires wandered around outside, but the snow deterred them from staying.

  She pushed the flash drive into her bra and scurried down the stone walkway to the entrance to the gardens. Her heels slid several times, but she always caught herself. A glance back revealed her footprint trail. Not ideal. No way to erase the heeled tracks. She scurried past a non-functional fountain and several statues of griffins. She could ditch the shoes and run down the hill to where Finn waited in a car. Go slow. Don’t run. Not yet.

  Another stone archway and…

  “Shh.” Someone slammed a hand over her mouth and dragged her against a large body into the dark. Wolf.

  Familiar.

  She threw off the hand. And spun around.

  “Michael?” she finally managed. “What the hell are you doing here?” Her body swayed toward him. She gave in to their connection, fitting herself against him and absorbing his heat. A tremble rocked her when his thumb brushed over her lower lip.

  “You make me reconsider my aversion to blondes.” A smile appeared on his brutal mouth and then vanished.

  She stiffened. “You can’t be here. Why are you here?”

  “You left without waking me up. Not fair.”

  “I never claimed to play fair. You promised not to be here.”

  “I did not.” He waved a hand to silence her. “They know Finn’s at the bottom of the hill. They’re waiting to capture you and nail him. It’s a trap.”

  “They don’t know this persona is Kiera.”

  “They know Kiera is here.”

  In her ear, Finn said, “Who the hell is that? Tell me it’s not Michael. Shit. Just shit, shit, shit. Get out of there!”

  “They’ll kill you. Please,” she begged. “Go back the way you came.”

  He whispered in her ear, “Listen carefully. I’m talking to both you and Finn. I’m going to distract them. Kiera, you’re going back up to the house and out the front in the chaos. Go find Andrew. Finn, get out of there. I guarantee they won’t get her, and she’ll get out safe.”

  She caught his arm as he turned. “Don’t do this. If they catch you…”

  “Go.” He put a hand on her cheek. The next instant, his heat was gone and so was he.

  “Finn, abort. Change forms and get out of there.” She raced back toward the house as fast as she could move in heels on ice and snow. A ruckus arose behind her with shouts and flashlights. Weapons fired. More screams. Instinct demanded she help Michael, but logic insisted she evacuate. He would need her to stick to his plan. She had to believe he had a plan that involved more than using himself as a distraction at the biggest vampire convention of the year in Europe.

  She pressed through the madness in the hallways. A hand clamped around her forearm.

  “This way.” Andrew propelled her around panicked vampires. She forgot he could overhear on their ear communicators.

  Within feet of the front door, Viktor blocked their path. His glower fixated on the hand Andrew had around her arm.

  Crap. He was jealous. Not what they needed.

  “Viktor, I don’t know what’s going on, but those were gunshots. Andrew has been nice enough to ease my nerves and see me out. I was dropped off because…” She waved outside. “The parking here is insane.”

  “How kind of Andrew,” Viktor gritted out without a hint of appreciation. “Come with me, Elise. I’ll keep you secure until this attack is over. I have a safe room.” He held out a hand.

  She straightened. Dramatically, she glanced around. “An attack? We’re under attack? From wolves or…” She lowered her voice and whispered in horror, “The Nightshade League? Oh, good Lord. I’m leaving if there’s…I don’t handle violence well.” She fanned her face with her hand then met Andrew’s gaze. “You can run me to my rental house? Oh, please tell me you can get me out of here.”

  “Of course, my dear.” Andrew had on his magnetic, charming face.

  “No. You will stay with me.” Viktor scowled at Andrew. She picked up suspicion and distrust.

  Gunshots rang out behind them. She flung herself at Viktor and clutched him. Her hands dug into him so tight that he pushed at her to release.

  “Save me. Please, I don’t want my head ripped off by a wolf.” She buried her face in his chest and curled her nails into his back until she felt him bow away from her grip.

  “Let go.” He pried her off him and held her a few inches away.

  She used her inner magic to produce tears while she struggled to get close to him again, arms flailing and body wiggling. “I have to get out of here, darling. Please. If you can’t take me home… Oh, holy mother. Those were more gunshots. I can’t stay in this house. Let Andrew get me out of here.” She squeezed out a tear waterfall. That ought to ruin her mascara enough for raccoon eyes. She dug her nails into Viktor’s arms until she smelled blood. “I have to leave. Don’t be jealous. This boy isn’t you. No one is you. No one makes me feel like you, but your house is under attack. I can’t die like this. I can’t stay here without you with me.”

  Viktor buried his nose in her neck. “For you, my love, I will trust this gigolo. But promise me next weekend.”

  “The Alps?” A volley of screams came from behind them. She flung her arms around him. “I’m so scared. I want to go.”

  He pulled her away from him and wiped her eyes. Addressing Andrew, he said, “Get her to her house.”

  “Of course, sir.” Andrew executed a small bow and gripped her arm again to propel her out the front with the wave of other evacuees. Outside he whispered, “Masterful, my dear.”

  “Thank you. Now where’s your car?”

  …

  Michael never “winged it” when going against vamps. And this vamp panic shitfest was why—him pinned against a wall and waves of Squad vamps shooting at anything that twitched, even each other.

  He’d fired Bryan’s gun once over ten minutes ago. Now he was trapped between a stone archway and a prickly evergreen bush heavy with snow. The brilliant moonlight reflecting off the snow made it almost look daytime, which sucked for stealth.

  A cluster of Squad vamps huddled on the other side of the archway, not that he could see them. The stench alerted him of their location.

  “Keep together,” ordered a nasally, high-pitched voice. “Calm down.”

  On his other side, a group of three ran from tree to tree, hunting. Their silence and steady progression suggested better training.

  They had to know they had him surrounded. They could smell him and hear him breathe.

  He worked through mental scenarios to overtake the smaller group. The best-case scenario had him sliding around the tree and approaching the vamps from the rear. He wouldn’t use gunfire this time. The knife was safer, silent.

  A flash of fur whizzed through the archway next to him between one blink and the next.

  What?

  Not a wo
lf. It’d been a tall, gray, fluffy dog. Looked sort of like the one at Kiera’s house. Had a vampire taken on a pet? If so, its werewolf-tracking ability stank.

  Gunfire exploded from the other side of the archway. Pieces of stone shattered. He slammed his hands over his ringing ears. The vampire teams moved away from him in the direction of the furry beast.

  Michael scurried to the opposite side of the archway where the tree cover was better. A bullet struck him in the thigh. He compartmentalized the burn. The sting spreading down his leg indicated it was caused by a bullet filled with liquid silver. Although silver wasn’t a death sentence for him, like it’d be for other wolves, it’d slow him down. If he wanted avoid capture, he had to focus. The handle of his knife dug into his palm.

  No attacker appeared. The hit hadn’t been intentional.

  Retreat. His mind screamed it over and over.

  He’d never before retreated in battle. Fight to victory was his mantra.

  He shrugged out of his shirt and wrapped it around the bleeding wound to staunch its flow, not that he could hide the smell, which would attract every vampire in the area. His jacket provided some warmth, but a lot less than his shirt had.

  He shifted to move further into the shadows the bushes provided. His leg burned. He couldn’t make it out of the area without transforming. As a wolf, he could move fast on three legs. But he couldn’t switch forms with the liquid silver floating in his system. Although he had more tolerance for the metal than a normal wolf and could eject it from his body, that would take at least a half hour, time he didn’t have.

  The only option was to go on the offense. He started toward the house. He needed to finish what he’d started. It was the only way to give Kiera more time to get out.

  One moment he was moving toward the main house, out of the cover of the bush. The next he was chest down, face buried in the snow. Hands pressed him against the frozen earth. The weight on his body had his injured leg pulsating. A knee pressed itself into his back and hand pressed his head into the snow.

  “You’re going to get shot again,” Finn hissed in his ear.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  More panicked vampire screams.

  “Cease!” a vampire yelled. A lull in shooting echoed around them, stretching from seconds to a minute. Murmurs came from the house and then the shout of someone in charge.

  “They’re circling back,” Finn whispered as he hauled him up and dragged him back to the covers of the bushes. Both crouched. Finn kept a strong arm on him to hold him down. “Did they hit you with a silver bullet? If not, we can outrun them on the snow.”

  Michael knocked Finn off him. He did a double take at Finn, who knelt next to him. “Where’re your clothes?”

  Finn rolled his eyes. “One shifter to another…tough to shift and stay dressed. And it’s stupid to carry extra clothes.”

  “Cold as fuck out here. Maybe you should shift back.” As a wolf, he ran a higher body temperature, not to mention the fur coat helped ward off cold.

  “Probably a good idea.” Finn shivered but stayed human.

  What was Finn? He’d heard rumors of non-wolf shifters. Not inconceivable they’d exist, but he’d lived longer than most and never seen one. That suggested Finn’s kind to be far more capable at concealment than werewolves. What about scent? He didn’t detect anything from Finn other than human. Now that was a kick-ass evolutionary trait.

  “What are you?” Michael asked.

  “We don’t have time for this. Let’s get out of here.”

  “I’m not running.” An unhinged hum started to vibrate in his head as his sensitive hearing calibrated the location of all vampires approaching and the amount of ammo he had on him.

  “Both you and Kiera are irritating as hell when you put your mind to a martyrdom plan. Look, I need you to leave. If you stay, you’ll get captured, and she’ll return for you. That scenario ends in her doing something far crazier than being here tonight. You get that, don’t you?”

  Vampire voices neared.

  “You’re her family,” Michael whispered. “I’m not. We’re never going to— This is the best I can do to protect her. I hope she got whatever she came for, which must have to do with her sister. You get out of here.”

  Finn opened his mouth to argue.

  “I planted a small bomb on the veranda,” Michael said. “The initial chaos was to get Kiera moving out the front. Go.” Michael held up his phone and pressed the button to initiate the countdown sequence for the bomb. “This is so you and she can escape. Take her far away from here.”

  With a nod and shoulder squeeze, Finn shifted to the wolfhound and ran in the opposite direction.

  Michael peeked around the stone wall. He glanced left and right. Six on the left, eight on the right, fifteen on the veranda getting orders on how to split up, and more organizing inside. Odds were bad for him to come out of this alive. Bullets might not kill him, but they’d slow him down enough a vamp could get a knife across his throat.

  He pulled the gun close to his chest. He closed his eyes and formulated his plan of attack. The bomb would take out most on the veranda.

  Seven…six…five…

  Bryan was going to be okay. Duty would keep him propped up until he found his way. He’d raise Grace. The war effort might miss Michael’s leadership, but they’d move on. They always did. Someone would step into his shoes, maybe even the king himself.

  Four…three…

  He smelled fear from the few vampires venturing close. Michael’s plan was to attack the two regiments of vampires nearby and then leave, even though he accepted he might not escape. That ought to give Kiera enough time to have departed.

  His heart burned, and he knew it was grief over Kiera. She’d opened up a world of emotion for him and made him care about all around him, but he was good about potentially dying over this. This sorrow was for her and the nonexistent potential of them as a couple. It made him possibly dying in order for her to live all the more meaningful.

  Two…one…

  Boom.

  Michael leaped upright and surged toward the disoriented vampires, shooting until he ran out of ammo and then turned to his knife. He laid down a path of death that would make his people proud. The sting of bullets peppered his stomach and then darts.

  Darts?

  Oh, fuck.

  He’d assumed they’d shoot to kill rather than carrying tranquilizer guns. Small miscalculation on his part. Bryan had been right he hadn’t gone into this thinking clearly. This must’ve been part of the organization effort on the veranda.

  Death had honor. Darted like a wild elephant about to get his veterinary exam pissed him off.

  Vision became hazy. This would suck—for him and for everyone around him when he woke up.

  Chapter Twenty

  Kiera nibbled the inside of her cheek while Andrew drove. She slid around on the leather seat, despite being belted in place as the car careened around curvy back roads. After three hours, they’d almost made it to Albertville in France where Andrew had a place. He’d informed her he’d fly her home, not to Calais but to her summer house in Greece. Far, far, far away from here.

  She scanned her phone again. No new messages. “Maybe we should’ve—”

  “Don’t start again. We have to trust Finn will escape. We’re also not formulating a new plan to help that wolf. He knew the stupidity of what he did and had to know it was a one-way trip. I’m not discussing this again. I won’t turn around.”

  Although concerned for Finn, she did trust him to escape. Her bigger worry was Michael. She finally figured out his weird behavior meant he accepted he’d die in Milan.

  Her phone rang.

  Lexan Dimitrov. The werewolf king. He’d never personally phoned her, even though she had his phone number. Sure, he was married to Vee, who phoned periodically, but not him.

 
She answered.

  “This is a clusterfuck,” came his thick Eastern European–accented voice. “Aside from the insanity of you attending the gala in the first place and then Michael doing whatever the hell he thought he was doing by showing up, I despise Viktor involving me in his games.”

  “What games?”

  “Can you tell me why Michael Durand went to the gala? By himself? He’s never done something like this.”

  She sighed. “Perhaps being stupid heroic? Who knows?”

  “Viktor captured him, which makes no sense. How could someone as inept as Viktor catch Michael? He may have a reputation as borderline insane with one foot into ennui, but he’s not crazy. And he’s legend as an escape artist. It’s why his slave master had to stake him to a bloody wall and constantly sedate him to make him stay put. Do you know how many times he got away, how many times he got off that wall, before they started drugging him back then, before the Emancipation War?”

  “I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “Fifteen. He pulled himself free of the stakes they pounded into his shoulder blades and out of the manacles, killing at least five to ten vamps each time he sought freedom. Let me repeat. No one on Viktor’s team is a match for him unless they keep him sedated. That means they don’t plan on keeping him for long.”

  She felt as if she should apologize but didn’t see how this was her fault yet.

  Lexan said, “Viktor is using him as a bargaining chip. This is a nightmare. Michael’s people…actually, all wolves in Europe love Michael. He’s an icon, and he keeps most of Europe organized. Things will fall into chaos without him. Viktor has offered to exchange him for the leader of the Nightshade League.”

  “Oh my. Of course I’ll—”

  “Hell no, we won’t be agreeing to any sort of exchange. That’s a double-cross from a mile away. Michael can take care of himself. If he wanted to be caught then, perhaps, he seeks an end to everything. Or he’s using it as a way to get information. Info on what, I don’t know.” An agitated sigh came through the line. “I can’t make sense of this. He’s gone three hundred years without being captured again. We need him. He can’t die. He’s…his blood…”