In other words, Kiefer’s plan was working. It was working! Now all they needed was for Nathan to finish his part and waste Celia inside the bookstore.
He’ll do it, Jason thought with an angled grin. I know he will.
Jason felt a surge of triumph as he sent yet another vampire hurtling back across the courtyard, and then he spun to face the next one, launching himself at it with a growl of enjoyment unfurling from his throat.
◆◆◆
Aaron couldn’t get over it. He’d been bitten by the same vampire who’d taken a chunk out of Jason, and yet, for some reason, he’d gained none of the speed or strength that Dara’s husband had. Now the big fight was here, and Aaron was relegated to dribbling holy water on the few strays the other guys missed, and sending them back out onto the battlefield, like some sort of unholy ball boy. Even Lucy was doing more with her magical chanting. It was humiliating. Let it go, he thought, shaking himself. Now is not the time. He could nurse his bruised ego later. Or maybe Lucy could nurse it for him.
The thought brought a faint smile to Aaron’s lips, and he dared a glance over his shoulder at her. She did look super cute standing up there with Dara, reading from her little book, didn’t she? His mind went back to the hug they’d shared just before the battle, and the alluring memory of Lucy’s body molding perfectly to his. She’d smelled so good and felt so...perfect.
Aaron licked his lips. His assistant had been a revelation to him tonight, that was for sure.
It gave him a little tickle of pride—and, yeah, a surge of arousal—to know she was doing all this crazy, supernatural stuff on his behalf. She likes me even more than I’d thought, he realized, and his heart flamed with warmth. But right afterward came the cool, dampening wash of guilt, knowing Lucy was now in incredible danger because of him. Oh, well, he’d just have to make sure she came out of this alright. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her, would never let—
“Look alive, Ames!” Kiefer’s shout jolted him out of his reverie. Aaron whipped his head around and saw a vampire barreling toward him, aiming for the shield. Aaron raised his crucifix and squeezed his bottle of holy water, shooting a stream straight into the monster’s face. The creature hissed and reared back, clawing at its smoking eyes.
Aaron smirked, but his glimmer of triumph only lasted for a second. He heard his name being shouted again.
“Aaron! Three o’clock!”
This time it was Lucy, interrupting her chanting to warn him of the monster sneaking up on him from the right. He spun to face it, but was too slow. The thing hit him like a freight train, bowling him to the pavestones.
The holy water flew from his hand. A stench of death and decay swamped his nostrils, roiling his stomach, and the vampire bolted him down with both claw-like hands, pinning one of his arms across his chest. Aaron thrust his other hand at the thing’s throat, pouring all his strength into holding it away from himself. Even so, it managed to bend its head closer, it’s needle-fanged hole of a mouth snapping as it threatened, inch by inch, to bite Aaron in the neck again. Only, he knew from the deranged look in its eyes that this vampire wouldn’t stop at only one chomp the way Celia had. It didn’t seem to matter to it that Aaron was a vampire, too; this thing would suck every last drop of blood from his body and then probably rip out his heart and eat it for good measure. Aaron would be dead again, this time permanently.
Aaron grunted, brooding once again over how unfair it was he hadn’t inherited any super powers from his master.
Come on, Celia, you ruined my life. Couldn’t you have at least given me laser-beam eyes, or something else useful, in exchange?
The vampire’s skin felt dry and gritty against his palm, like it was coated in filth. The smell of fleshly corrosion was becoming overwhelming, and Aaron tasted bile in the back of throat. The hand trapped across his chest twitched. If only he could reach the rosary still strung around his neck, he could use it to burn and distract the vampire. That might be enough. Sometimes, in a fight, a few seconds are all that matter. He was thrashing his shoulders, desperately trying to free his arm, when a dark blur swung across his peripheral vision. Whatever the object was, it made solid contact with the creature’s temple.
Whap!
The vampire’s head went whipping sideways, its neck slipping from Aaron’s grasp. “Get your hands off him!”
Aaron looked up, trying to figure out what was going on here—and then it happened again. Someone slammed his assailant upside the head with something heavy.
“I said leave him alone!”
This time, the creature lost its grip, and Aaron was able to hurl it off of himself. He looked up to see Lucy standing over him, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths. Her glasses were slightly askew, and her cheeks were flushed. One of the streetlamps behind her head made her hair shimmer like a halo. She’d never looked more beautiful to him—and that was saying something. In her white-knuckled hands she clutched a thick hardcover book with a vampire printed on the front of it. A Prince Under the Moonlight: Special Illustrated Collector’s Edition. One of the books from the broken window display.
“Come on,” Lucy implored, holding out one hand. He grabbed onto her and let her haul him to his feet. He turned just in time to see the vampire making a return run at them.
Lucy brandished her book, ready to swat the monster again, but Aaron stepped in front of her. “Go back,” he said. “Help Dara. She might not be able to hold the shield for very long without you.”
“But—” Lucy started to protest.
“I’m okay.” Aaron knew it was true. Flexing his hands, he felt a spark of power itch in the center of each palm. The itch crept outward, igniting his fingers. On instinct, he brought up his arms and aimed the sparks at the vampire. An invisible wave of energy shot from Aaron and knocked the vampire back a good thirty feet. The thing flipped onto its backside and scuttled away from him, fear and confusion glazing its eyes.
“What the-?” Lucy gasped.
“Some kind of telekinetic punch,” Aaron murmured, marveling at his fingertips. Seems I did get something from Celia, after all. His mouth quirked up at the sides. Well, it’s about time. He raised his palms again, aiming at another vampire in the distance. This time the beam of energy he emitted seemed to barely tap the creature, and Aaron frowned, realizing his range wasn’t very far or powerful. Still, it was better than nothing. Maybe if he used it more, it would charge up.
Glancing over his shoulder, Aaron nodded at Lucy. She grinned, dropped the vampire novel, and raced back toward Dara. He grinned, too, and turned back around, watching the first nosferatu he’d blasted continue to retreat. It would be back, Aaron knew. They kept coming back and coming back. But he would stand here as long as it took. And now he would really be ready for them.
Chapter Twenty
Several minutes ago...
Frankie Lam awoke to the sound of arguing. He blinked and looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He was lying on a purple velvet couch. There were pieces of broken furniture and ripped up books laying all around him. Happily Ever After, the wall next to him read.
“What the-?” He sat up, and his head swam. He pressed his hand to his forehead and screwed his eyes shut again, waiting for the dizziness to subside. Disturbing images flashed across his mind in rapid succession, and that was when he remembered—he’d been working the graveyard shift when he was called out to investigate a tripped alarm at a little bookshop in the Courtyard at Vintage Meadow Lake.
Upon rolling up to the store, he’d found the window smashed, and had climbed in through the hole for a closer look. At first, it’d seemed whoever was responsible had already fled the premises. After shutting off the alarm, Frankie had checked every room for intruders and found no one. He’d called the desk at Atkinson’s Dependable Security Company and told them the police would need to be alerted, but that it wasn’t an emergency; he would do another quick sweep of the store and then call the cops himself. No sooner had he hu
ng up, though, then someone had attacked him. A tiny blonde woman, he remembered with chagrin. How had such a bitty thing gotten the better of him? She must’ve been hopped up on bath salts or something, he decided, trying to make himself feel better. Regardless, Frankie recalled being grabbed by the back of the neck and having his face slammed against the checkout counter. He vaguely remembered people talking to him later in a gentle way, too, saying his name over and over. And he remembered tasting blood.
Swiping his hand across his lips, Frankie stared at his fingertips. There was definitely blood there, but he knew it wasn’t all his own. He’d felt the power flow through his body when that special blood had gone down his throat. He’d felt his injuries knitting together inside him, and the awful pain fading as if by magic.
Magic.
Frankie didn’t believe in magic.
But he remembered someone saying I will heal this man, and then he had done it.
It was a miracle. Had to be. That, Frankie did believe in.
His skin tingling with fear and awe, Frankie levered himself off the sofa. He stopped and listened to the argument still going on somewhere on the other side of the nearest bookcase. He crept over and peeked around it. The blonde chick who had walloped him was standing there, but she couldn’t see him. Her back was turned. She had a taller brunette woman bent over in a headlock and was facing off against a towering male model who looked thoroughly miserable.
Hostage situation, Frankie thought, and instinctively felt for his gun. It was missing. And who knew where it might be in all this mess? He remembered drawing it right before he’d been clobbered, so most likely he’d lost it near the entrance. Whatever. It would probably be easier to just sneak out to his car and grab another weapon, while also calling the police.
He started making his way toward the front door but then paused, gasping in discomfort. As of last week, he was twenty-one years old, but now Frankie felt stiff and creaky as an octogenarian. He forced himself to keep going, to move as swiftly and stealthily as possible, ducking behind walls and furniture to keep himself hidden. Someone had moved bookcases in front of the broken window, but he managed to ease one back, creating a gap just wide enough for him to slip through and scramble outside.
A war was going on in the parking lot. Two women were holding books and shouting into the air, while a group of people duked it out all over the courtyard, many of them moving so fast, Frankie couldn’t even make out what they looked like. There was so much noise and pandemonium swirling around him, no one noticed Frankie climbing out the broken window and staggering out onto the sidewalk. No one but a dark-haired man who sat propped up against the building, only a few feet away from him.
“Hey,” the guy said to Frankie, and his teeth were gritted like it was hurting him to talk. “Hey, you…can…can you come over here and let me go?” The man angled his body so Frankie could see his hands had been tied behind his back. Another hostage? Who were all these people? What the heck were they doing out here?
Without giving it much thought, Frankie dropped to one knee beside the captive and started picking at his ropes. The knots were way too tight for him to unravel. He felt in his pockets for his keychain, pulled it out, and unfolded the knife dangling from it. He sawed through the restraints and let them fall away. “There you go,” he said. The hostage, pale and sweaty, just sat there, staring at him without budging. Probably in shock, Frankie decided, and then realized he wasn’t the only one. Frankie still wasn’t feeling too clear himself. A haze seemed to shroud his brain, and the impossible things happening around him…well, they weren’t exactly helping to dispel the fog.
The freed hostage made a frustrated noise. He tried standing and promptly tumbled back onto his backside. “Can you…” He stared at Frankie with pleading eyes. “Can you please check my pockets for me?”
◆◆◆
Kiefer felt it when his token was discarded from Theo’s pocket and the charm binding the guy to his will was broken. He muttered a curse to himself and spun away from the fight to see what’d happened. He saw the security guard Nathan had rescued helping Theo to his feet. Then the two of them just stood there on the sidewalk, chatting with one another as casual as you please—as if there wasn’t a vampire war going on only a few yards away from them.
“Hey!” Kiefer used his super-speed to rush over to them. “What do you think you’re doing?” He knocked the security guard away from the thug.
The guard—his name was Frankie, Kiefer was reminded by his nametag—stared at him with wide, almond-shaped eyes. “What in the world is going on out here?”
Great, Kiefer thought. Now he would have to deal with this meddlesome kid, too, and erase his memory once the fighting was over. As if he didn’t already have enough to worry about? “Just stay out of the way,” he told the guard gruffly. “We’re handling it.”
Kiefer felt Theo’s large paw land on his shoulder, and he grabbed it and spun around, wrenching the goon’s arm behind his back. “Who said you could touch me?” he growled into his ear.
“Ow, ow, chill out, man!” Theo raised his free hand in supplication. “I told you, I just want to help you!”
Kiefer hesitated, glowering at Theo. The guy was free now, had been free for a while. The magical shield was meant to keep people out, not in, so he could have easily run through it and rejoined the rest of Dorian’s men. Or run away altogether. But he hadn’t. He was still here, insisting he wanted to help the right side. Something in Theo’s desperate expression tugged at Kiefer’s conscience, convincing him the guy was being honest, at least about this part. Trusting his gut instinct—which had usually served him well enough—Kiefer decided to let him go. For now. “Alright,” he snapped, shoving him away. “How can you help us?”
Theo swung out his arm, gesturing at the waves of vampires and goons Jason was now mostly fending off by himself, with a little backup from Aaron. Still, some of them were leaking through the defensive line, pitching themselves at the shield in a frothy, jaw-snapping frenzy. “Those guys out there,” he said, “the ones who aren’t vampires—”
“Vampires?!” Frankie’s eyes bugged.
Kiefer scowled at the guard and he shut up, crossing himself as he took a step backward. Kiefer turned back to Theo, silently urging him to go on.
“They’re minions,” the lackey finished.
“Yeah, you said that before. So?”
Theo shook his head in exasperation. “They’re not like me. I’m here because I was hired. I get paid. It’s been my choice to work for Dorian.”
“Am I supposed to be proud of you?” Kiefer glared at him.
“These guys,” Theo went on, pointing at the crowd again, “have been compelled to come here. They’re under Dorian’s sway.”
“Yeah, I can tell they’re under some sort of spell, but it’s not surprising. You said they were enchanted.”
Theo actually smiled, showing Kiefer a set of uneven teeth. “I also told you Dorian likes to use charms. Physical objects. Those guys out there have something on them, I guarantee you. You get rid of that, and the connection to Dorian will be broken. They’ll be so confused, they’ll likely give up the fighting, at least for a minute. Even if they do come at you again, they won’t have Dorian’s mojo backing them up anymore. You’ll be able to take them down.”
Kiefer said, “Jason and I’ve tried breaking the collars off those vampires. They don’t come loose. Why should these ‘charms’ be any different?”
“Because they aren’t the same as the collars. These guys probably have a gem embedded somewhere in their skin. I’ve seen it before, up here.” Theo patted his own chest. “It’s possible you could rip that out with a knife or your fingernails or whatever. It’d be worth a shot, anyway, right?”
A wave of optimistic relief swept over Kiefer, but he couldn’t help scowling at Theo one more time. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“You didn’t ask. And then you wouldn’t listen when I said I could help you.”
Kiefer glowered, but only because he was angry at himself for not hearing the guy out earlier. With a brusque nod of acknowledgment, he jogged over to the edge of the shield.
He leapt through the dome and snatched at a minion who’d been busily flinging himself against it over and over again, like a moth battering against a lantern chimney. Ripping the guy’s shirt down the front, he saw a red gem winking from the flesh just below his collarbone. Kiefer jabbed his thumbnail under one edge of the stone and pried it loose, sending it tumbling to the pavestones. The minion howled in protest, but then slid bonelessly through Kiefer’s grasp, crumpling to his knees. His shook his head, and his eyes seemed to clear, like a veil had been lifted from his mind.
“Hey,” Kiefer snapped at him. “How you feelin’? Like yourself again, or what?”
The guy blinked up at him. “I-I don’t…Where am I? Who are you?”
Kiefer responded by punching him in the face, knocking him out cold. He felt a fresh surge of adrenaline wash through him as he watched the guy topple over. Sweet, he thought, shaking out his fist. That works.
He brought his boot down on the gem, and it shattered into a shower of glittery sparks. Kiefer raced over to tell the other guys what he’d just discovered.
◆◆◆
Now...
“Now!” Celia was still caterwauling, her face reddening as she balled her fists. “Stab him now, you stubborn nitwit! Do it RIGHT THIS INSTANT!”
Jessica, still looking up at Nathan, rolled her eyes. She turned her head and aimed her words at the hysterical master throwing a hissy fit at her back. “Well, gosh, Celia, you know, I would, but I just remembered—I’m immune to the vampire whammy for some reason, which means I really don’t have to do what you say. Instead—I can just tell you to eat me. So, eat me.” She grabbed Nathan’s hand and slapped the stake into it. “Go get her,” she growled.
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