by Jess Haines
“One down,” Fabian said, pulling away. He rose in a smooth, predatory motion, stalking across the carpeted floor in bare feet. He stopped in front of Devon, smiling down at him with just a hint of fang. “One to go. . . .”
“No!” Devon and I both cried out at the same time.
“Stay away from him!” Sara shouted.
Fabian didn’t bother looking at us, running a fingertip down Devon’s cheek. This was like a surreal reenactment of Max’s takeover in New York, only . . . the vampires were more interested in the dudes than the women.
I don’t think I have ever seen Devon look that frightened in my life. Fear for him as much as my own remembered terror drove me to renew my struggling against the vampire’s hold, knowing, but not caring, that it was futile.
And then Gideon was stumbling forward, blood bubbling from his lips.
I couldn’t see at first what was going on, but Fabian was whirling, aghast, anguish twisting his handsome features into a caricature. Then Tiny stepped into view, the machete he had used to stab Gideon in the back spraying thick red droplets in an arc as he tugged it free and slashed at Fabian in one deft motion.
The elder sidestepped, stumbling back, clearly too startled and shaken by this turn of events to immediately retaliate. Tiny didn’t give him the opportunity to regain his footing. He had a Desert Eagle in the other hand.
Though I’d been listening to gunfire all night, the mini hand cannon was deafeningly loud in the enclosed space. The shot must have missed, because Fabian was lunging at Tiny, his eyes burning with the hellish red of agitation as he sought to grab the hunter.
The fingers on my arms briefly tightened—then loosened, the vampire holding me shaking his head and pulling back slightly. “Wha . . . ?”
The ones holding Sara and Devon were also coming to. Devon’s didn’t quite let him go, still holding him with one hand, the other lifting to his temple. Sara’s did release her, taking a step back to clutch his head with both hands.
She fell to her knees, creeping forward to check on Gideon. God, he was her only hope of ever being free of those runes. If he was dead, I’d never forgive Tiny for that, even if Tiny’s actions were the only thing that could have saved Devon from becoming Fabian’s eternal, unwilling boy toy.
Devon jerked out of the arms of the vampire holding him, pulling a small knife out of his boot. It would be about as effective as a toothpick against a vampire as old and powerful as Fabian, but with two experienced hunters after Fabian’s ass, I wasn’t sure if it mattered. Devon could probably find a way to make a weapon out of anything in the room if he needed to.
The vampire holding me finally let go, all three of the younger vampires skittering out, running for the exit with inhuman speed, clearly knowing better than to stay anywhere near the necromancer in case he might recover and enslave them again. Without Clyde awake and capable of protecting them, I couldn’t blame them for wanting to get out of there as fast as they could.
As Devon and Tiny went on the offensive against Fabian, dangerous as it was, I tuned them out, all of my focus on Gideon and helping Sara with the wound.
Those incredible green eyes were open wide, and he was gasping for air, every breath wet and flecking his lips with beads of scarlet. Sara looked up to me, stricken.
“I don’t know how to deal with this. His lung must be punctured.”
Medical treatment for wounds like that wasn’t in my repertoire either. If he stayed on his back, it seemed more likely he would either bleed out or drown in his own blood. I yanked him up into a sitting position, his hands weakly clawing at my shoulders and breath hot on my neck as he rested his cheek against my collarbone. Shock, maybe. I didn’t think he was entirely conscious of what he was doing.
Sara tugged at his shirt, pushing it up to bare his back. The snarling and cursing and gunshots didn’t get my attention, but the shattering glass as something was thrown through a window did. Craning my neck to see, I gaped at Fabian, who was forcing Devon to kneel at his feet with the fingers knotted in his hair and holding Tiny by the throat out the window. The fall might not kill him, but I wasn’t about to risk it.
“Don’t! Don’t you do it!”
Fabian glanced in my direction, fangs bared, eyes burning crimson. As soon as he saw that I had pulled the knife I’d been keeping at my back and that I was holding it by the back of Gideon’s neck, panic quickly replaced the anger in his expression. “Stop! Let him go!”
“You first. Don’t drop him—bring Tiny inside and put him down. Do it now!”
Slowly, carefully, Fabian drew Tiny back into the room. The big man was gasping for breath, his hands clawing at the fingers closed vise-like around his throat. Tiny easily had a hundred and fifty pounds on Fabian, but the vampire held him like he weighed no more than a house cat.
Once Tiny’s feet were no longer dangling out the window, Fabian thrust Tiny away with a harsh snap of his wrist that sent the hunter sprawling on the carpet. However, Fabian didn’t let go of Devon, instead taking the opportunity to haul him to his feet by the hair and then hold the hunter against him, nails biting into his neck and abdomen where he rested his hands.
“Let’s make a deal. Give me Gideon, and I’ll give you the hunter. Yes?”
“Don’t do it, Shia! Kill the fu—”
Devon’s words were cut off as Fabian’s nails dug deep furrows in his throat. I narrowed my eyes and dug the point of my blade into Gideon’s skin, drawing a drop or two of blood and making the guy hiss audibly and jerk in my arms.
“Don’t fuck with me, Fabian. You let him go. Do it, and do it now, or so help me I will gut Gideon right here and now.”
Not really. But Fabian didn’t know that.
The ancient vampire’s lips peeled back until I swear I saw his molars—and then slowly slid into a thin-lipped smile, the red tint to his eyes growing brighter. “Alec Royce was wise to take you under his wing. I can appreciate such ruthlessness.”
“Now!”
He shoved Devon away, nails swiping over his throat and leaving crimson streaks behind. “Done. Now you step away from Gideon, or you’ll see what it truly means to be merciless.”
Chapter 29
Sara and I carefully backed away from the necromancer, though I kept my knife on him as long as I could. Fabian stalked forward as soon as we gave him some room.
As the vampire knelt beside the necromancer, I checked on Devon. Sara knelt beside Tiny. I was pretty sure Tiny was just out cold; Devon, on the other hand, was bleeding profusely from the wounds on his throat, and awake, but not moving save for weakly clawing at his neck and gasping for air.
I cut a strip off my shirt with the knife, using the least filthy swatch I could find. I pressed the wadded material against the cuts to staunch the flow. His voice, when he managed to choke out a word or two, rasped and squeaked like that of a kid going through puberty.
“The hell . . . did you . . . did you do that for?”
“To save your life,” I hissed at him, hoping Fabian was too busy to pay us any attention. “Here, hold that compress—yeah, right there. Come on, we’re getting out of here.”
I hooked his free arm behind my neck and helped him to his feet, staggering slightly to one side with the weight of him. He wasn’t deadweight, but not far from it, either. Judging by the groans and wincing, Fabian had done a number on him. Getting out of here wasn’t going to be easy, but we needed to get moving before the vampire finished seeing to Gideon and decided to retaliate.
I turned us toward Sara, opening my mouth to tell her and Tiny to hurry up, but the words caught in my throat when I saw her tear-streaked face. My gaze slid from her to the downed hunter, and it felt like the blood in my veins froze solid.
Tiny wasn’t unconscious like I’d first thought. His neck was at an unnatural angle. There was no rise and fall to his chest.
Fabian had killed him.
“No . . . Tiny, no!” Devon’s voice was faint, hoarse—and broken.
The two
had been good friends for as long as I’d known them. Tiny was a good man. I’d never really understood what drove him to hunt Others, what led him to live the life of a vigilante, and now I’d never have the opportunity to ask.
Did he have family? A girlfriend or a wife? Someone out there who would never know how he had died, someone waiting for him to come home?
Devon pulled away from me, dropping to his knees beside Tiny’s prone form, bowing his head. Sara set a hand on Devon’s shaking shoulder. He didn’t make a sound, but I had no doubt he was crying.
My hand fell to the hilt of the knife I’d tucked into its place at the small of my back. Drawing it once more, I hefted the blade and stomped over to Fabian, who was ignoring me in favor of cradling Gideon to his chest, crooning encouragements to the necromancer as he pressed a bleeding wrist to his mouth. It would heal his wound, yes, but that didn’t mean it was worth the price. The two might have been lovers, but I had to wonder if Gideon had any idea what kind of personal hell he was in for, being bound to the vampire.
I pressed the tip of the knife against the underside of Fabian’s jaw. He tilted his head to the side, looking at me out of the side of his eye, one fang visible as he sneered. “What do you want now?”
“You killed him.”
Jerking back from the blade a bit, he tilted his head a little more to see what the others were doing. Then back to me, his expression neutral. “Perhaps. He attacked Gideon. I saw no reason to be careful with how I handled him.”
With a snarl, I put enough pressure on the blade to give him a shallow slice, only enough to let him know I meant business. “As soon as that necromancer wakes up, he’s fixing what you did. You understand me? He fixes it, or I will kill you and whatever miserable remains of your bloodline I can get my hands on.”
A blur was the only thing that registered before I felt the bite of my own blade against my throat, his hand wrapped around mine, my other arm pinned, and Fabian pressed behind me, close as only lovers should be. His fangs brushed over my cheek and then earlobe as he whispered in my ear, his voice a seductive hiss.
“Oh, will you now? You think you have what it takes to kill me, little girl? Do you know how many have tried over the centuries?”
“Not nearly enough if you’re still here,” I spat.
He laughed softly, mocking, reminiscent of someone I had heard before but couldn’t quite place. “You just wait. Gideon told me what he promised you and your little friend. He can’t reverse death—that power is beyond him—but he can do something about her curse. Isn’t that what you came here for?”
I stopped squirming against his hold, some of my anger fading. The promise of help for Sara was the only thing that could have cut through my murderous rage at that moment, sending the bestial need to hunt and kill back to the depths it had clawed from.
“Watch. ”
I did as Fabian directed, turning my attention down to Gideon. The necromancer was stirring, grimacing and rubbing the back of his head where it had thumped against the carpeted floor when the vampire let him go.
Gideon sat up with a groan, then staggered up to his feet. His shirt was still bunched up near his shoulders. The only sign of the wound was an angry red line that showed Tiny had expertly sliced deep into his back, right between his ribs. That he was still alive meant Tiny had missed his heart, but it couldn’t have been by much. He was coming out of shock remarkably fast.
Gideon tilted his neck to one side, then the other, rolling his shoulders until a sharp crack sounded. When he finally opened his eyes, they turned to Fabian before anything else, hot with desire and an adulation that hadn’t been there before. I wondered if that was how I had looked at Royce and Max when they gave me their blood the first time.
Dimly, I heard the sound of tires crunching on gravel drifting in through the windows. Police? Backup? The first few Goliath warriors, here to even the odds? I could only hope. The quiet hiss of tires on cement and brief flash of headlights through the curtains and broken window heralded a newcomer, but whether he or she would think to come upstairs to find us was anybody’s guess.
Fabian didn’t seem terribly concerned. He continued to hold the blade to my throat, keeping me from pulling away, but he lifted his other hand to brush the back of it against Gideon’s cheek. The necromancer leaned into the touch, giving a visible shudder of ecstasy. It was hard to tell whether to be horrified, disgusted, or saddened by what the bond had done to him. Seeing someone that powerful made into a fawning puppet was like seeing a wild lion de-fanged and de-clawed. It might have made it safer to be around him, to some degree, but in its way it was still heartbreaking to witness.
“You promised to do something for these ladies. Do you remember?”
Gideon’s gaze briefly flicked to mine, the glittering green color flaring brighter. There was a tug in the back of my mind, like he was doing something to mess around with me again, but it didn’t last long. With a nod, he turned his attention back to Fabian, awaiting direction like an eager, demonic puppy.
“Good. Go take care of it.”
The necromancer moved with purpose, showing little sign that he’d suffered from shock and severe blood loss only a few minutes ago. He reached Sara’s side in moments, pressing a hand lightly on her back. She didn’t look up, still holding Devon as he shook in silent grief over Tiny’s body.
Though she refused to be budged, it didn’t appear to bother or slow Gideon down. He flicked his wrist, dislodging a small, slender blade. I stiffened , but Fabian hushed me and held me tighter, keeping me from rushing over to stop him.
Gideon put the blade between his teeth, using long, slender fingers to roll up the sleeve of her free arm, holding her forearm out in front of him. She watched him from behind a curtain of blond tendrils, clinging to Devon a bit tighter.
Gideon said a few words, the sounds foreign and strange to my ears. Guttural, almost. Something Slavic, maybe. It didn’t sound like any language I was familiar with. Having heard Arnold cast spells before, this felt . . . different. Darker. More ominous.
Sara jerked her arm, but his grip was too tight. She couldn’t pull away.
The fae glow in his eyes grew brighter—and the runes on her arm began to glow, too.
Devon tilted his head up, red-rimmed eyes staring dully at what was going on. Then widening. His fingers tightened around Sara’s, but there was nothing he could have done. Interrupting the spell could have disastrous consequences, not the least of which being a backlash of whatever energies Gideon was summoning right now. From the look and sound of it, they weren’t beneficial, either.
The bluish-white light slowly faded, the color draining away until the symbols were left in stark relief, black against her white skin. Sara made a sound of pain, soft in her throat, that grew into an agonized scream as Gideon whipped the blade out of his mouth and slashed the tip down her wrist—a line directly over the runes, cutting each of them in half.
She never stopped screaming as he held her, keeping her still, the words flowing like the black and yellow pus that seeped from the wound. Devon must have known the consequences of letting the spell be interrupted, because he helped hold her still, even though his eyes were wide and it was clear he was just as afraid for Sara as I was.
She writhed and twisted, kicking at Gideon, but he didn’t stop until every last rune had been cut in half.
The fluid corruption flowing from the wounds became clear, the stink of death and rot that I had thought must have been zombie leftovers abruptly clearing out, leaving something that seemed almost sweet in its place. Gideon slowly ran the flat of the blade over her arm, and the stuff began to sizzle and pop, but left her previously scarred skin unblemished.
He had done it. The runes were gone!
I could have kissed the crazy bastard. Now Sara wouldn’t be in danger from every passing mage. It felt like a hundred pounds of worry were lifted from my shoulders in that moment, knowing that she was no longer going to suffer for my mistakes.
I had finally made something right.
Sara slumped against Devon once Gideon let her go, her eyes wild with pain and terror, but she had clearly been too weakened to do anything to fight him off. The necromancer tucked his dagger away, flicking some of that clear goop from his fingertips, before turning an expectant look back to Fabian. A dog looking to its master for a treat after performing a neat trick.
The vampire finally loosened his grip on me, and I immediately ran to Sara’s side, wrapping my arms around her and Devon both.
I would never forgive Fabian for Tiny’s death, but knowing that he had a hand in making sure Gideon kept his word and healed Sara went a long way toward keeping me from feeling a need to exact revenge on him.
Which reminded me—I wasn’t sure what time it was, but if Gideon, Fabian, and Clyde remained here, they’d no doubt be killed by rampaging Goliath werewolves. The pack was supposed to show up at midnight. We had arrived not too long after sunset, and the battle had not taken terribly long. They still had a couple of hours to get a head start and find a safe way out of town.
I looked up from Sara’s bowed head, my fingers running through her hair, trying to console her as best I could. Gideon had returned to Fabian’s side, folded into his arms like a child seeking reassurance from his parent. Fabian watched us over Gideon’s shoulder, a sly smile I didn’t like hinting that he still had something up his sleeve. But whatever he hadn’t put on the table yet wasn’t going to stop me from doing the right thing.
“You should get out of here while you can. There are werewolves coming to kill him,” I said, tilting my chin in Gideon’s direction.
“We weren’t planning on staying much longer.”
Gideon glanced up at Fabian, then nodded as if he had been given some instruction. He turned back in our direction, flicking his fingers in a “come on” gesture at Clyde. The prone vampire finally opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times before rising slowly to his feet. He moved like he was buzzed—not quite sure on his feet, hands out to catch himself in case he bumped into something or fell—coming to an unsteady, swaying halt at Fabian’s side.