by Jess Haines
“Come on.”
The command was directed at Devon, Sara, and me. She wasn’t in any kind of shape to be on her feet, still shaking from aftershocks of pain or fear or who knew what, probably caused by Gideon’s spell. Between the two of us, we were able to get her up, though Devon wasn’t too happy and was having difficulty keeping pressure on his wound with the hand not being used to steady Sara.
“I can’t just leave him here. Not like this.”
Fabian was unmoved by Devon’s unspoken plea. “We’ll make arrangements. If it is as you say, and werewolves are going to be coming along anytime now, we need to be gone before they arrive. Let’s go.”
We didn’t argue, following the three Others out. The acrid stink of smoke was still drifting from somewhere deeper in the house, mixed with the smell of zombies. There might have been a fire on a lower floor; I wasn’t sure, but I was beginning to wonder why Fabian had already planned to leave, even before we mentioned the Goliaths. Now that he had control over the vampire in charge of this city, why wouldn’t he take over his seat of power?
The trio of Others stepped aside for us once we reached the front doors, letting us go out first.
I figured they were just being polite. Though once I saw what was waiting for us out there, my heart clawed its way from my chest to lodge high in my throat, choking off thought, reason, and air in one fell swoop. That moment of shock and panic was all Fabian, Clyde, and Gideon needed to swoop in from behind to grab us, keeping the three of us from running off or escaping back into the house.
We were so fucked.
Chapter 30
Max Carlyle grinned, spreading his arms as he approached the steps. “Hello, kids. Daddy’s home.”
In a surge of panic, I tugged at the arms holding me captive.
Half a dozen other vampires were leaning against the outside of the cars, all radiating power and danger the way that Fabian and Clyde did. Not as old and powerful as Max, but close enough to it so as to make no difference to the three of us, even if we hadn’t been confined.
Max looked just as dapper and handsome as I remembered. The suave, fashionable businessman look did a great job of slapping a passable veneer of polite professionalism over the crazy underneath. Was I the only one who could see the madness roiling in those cold, gray eyes?
“Sire,” Fabian said from behind me, his voice the warmest and most sincere I had ever heard from him. “I do hope you’ll accept my first tribute as master of Los Angeles.”
Oh, God, no.
That smile could have charmed the angels from the heavens. It wasn’t my imagination. He looked right at me as he nodded. “Yes. Tribute accepted. Very nicely done.”
“Excellent. Thank you, sire. Gideon, if you would?”
Gideon, who was holding Sara, slid a hand up to her temple, commanding her to sleep. Her struggles ceased, her body slumping in his arms. One of Max’s henchmen strode forward, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her toward the car.
The necromancer took care of Devon next, probably because he was struggling against Clyde’s hold like a man possessed.
As for me, I didn’t move. I didn’t dare. All I could do was stare at my death warrant, signed, sealed, and delivered, all in that razor smile curving Max’s lips. He held up a hand for Gideon to wait a moment, just before the necromancer reached me.
“Shiarra Anne-Marie Waynest. How I have looked forward to this moment.”
How the hell did he know my middle name? He must have done his homework after our last encounter in New York. How he could have known I was here, though—
No. Fabian had addressed him as “sire.” That meant Max had made him into a vampire. I would bet my last shares in H&W Investigations, whatever remained of the business, that Fabian had alerted Max to our presence long before now. Max had just been biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to make his entrance. He was that kind of guy, the bastard.
“Put her under, and make it last long enough for the trip home. I’ve got unfinished business with that one.”
“Yes, sire. And the other two?”
Chill fingertips brushed my temple, a whispered breath tickling my ear.
I was out before Max gave his answer.
Acknowledgments
This book has been a long time coming, but it wouldn’t be here if not for the help of a few friends.
First, a big shout-out to my agent, Ellen; my editor, John; my publicist, Vida; and the rest of the team at Kensington. They make me look good.
Next, a word of thanks to my beta readers. Kristin, for always lending an ear when I need it most. Tori, your words of wisdom shall resonate through the ages. Kate, you know I’ve got some special Devon-related business I’m working on just for you. Eve, for being your inimitable self—Thrane and Co. thank you, as do I, and you’ll always hold the title to most devoted and disgruntled fan in all the land.
To the others who had a hand in this one, you know who you are—thank you.
Lastly, a word of thanks to the readers, bloggers, and book reviewers who have helped this series stay alive. Your support and encouragement has done more than you know to keep these books coming. It’s been a rough road for Shia, but I’m deeply grateful to those of you who have followed her on her journey, and I hope you’ll stay with her to its end.
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