“Stupid Bastard!” Ev snorted, slamming the front door behind him. “Telling me . . . ME, the olfactory senses weren’t as powerful as a good old-fashioned security camera,” he mumbled to himself, turning the corner into the living room.
Catching a glimpse of us and sensing the tension so thick in the air even I could taste it, he stopped dead in his tracks.
“Ummmm,” he stammered.
“Pup!”
The word from Dean’s lips was like a gunshot going off.
“Yes, sir?” Ev said, shrinking back into himself.
Ah, hell no. He did not just do that to the kid.
The phone rang, blaring through the tension rippling in waves of solid power through the room. I almost jumped to answer it but held firm. The only thing standing between these two men and a fist-fight was me. I might also be the reason for this situation which was a pickle in and of itself.
“Get the phone, Ev,” I ordered, not removing my hands as a barrier for either man.
The kid ran and picked up the phone from the den. I’d turned my ringer off on my cell when we started talking about bonding ceremonies. I hadn’t wanted to be disturbed. Little did I know the havoc one little conversation would start. Now I knew better.
“Ice station zero,” Ev said. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Got it.” Then he hung up.
It was a bitch only hearing one half of the conversation.
“What is it?” I asked.
“That was Nova on the phone. There’s trouble at Ice,” Ev said with a relieved sigh.
Glancing between Dean and Patrick, I begged silently to go. I couldn’t be here, deal with the bullshit, and not kill something. I really wanted to go. No, I needed to go.
“Go,” Patrick sighed, his shoulders dropping in resignation.
“Give me your word that this ends here. I won’t come home to find it destroyed or one of you dead or bloody?”
“You have my word that I will not strike first,” Patrick said, very careful with his vow to me. But I could play that game too.
“I want it from both of you,” I barked, turning to Dean.
His usually full lips had disappeared into a thin line of anger. The large, calloused hands that I loved to feel over every inch of my body were in tight fists at his side. His gaze was focused entirely on Patrick as heat, powerful and dangerous, visibly rippled off him.
“Tre?” I whispered, letting the silver of my gaze reflect up to him. He peered down at me and his face softened, the furrows disappeared from his brow and the strain across his neck eased. “Tre? Do I have your word?”
“Yes.” It was all he said but I didn’t need more than that. If Dean and Patrick gave their word not to kill each other, they’d keep it.
Relieved, I sighed and stepped from between them. My arms ached from the force I’d had to use to keep them apart but the prospect of maybe killing something filled me with joy.
“Ev, get Gladi and my gun,” I said.
He shot up the stairs, taking three at a time. I grabbed my boots and slipped them on, lacing them tight up my shin. After a few silent minutes where Patrick and Dean didn’t move—not even an inch—I got my boots secured and Ev bounded back down the stairs. He handed me the back sheath for Gladi and she hummed with happiness as I strapped her on. The sword was excited to shed blood and so was I. I slid my leather jacket on over the blade and strapped the holster to my belt at the small of my back.
“Ev, you coming?”
He glanced around at Patrick and Dean. A split second later, his decision was made.
“Hell yeah,” he said, relief slackening his shoulders.
I strode over to the front door and yanked it open, not bothering to kiss either of them goodbye. They were acting like children and I was tired of it. I was exhausted from walking on eggshells. Whatever was wrong between them, they had sure as shit fix it or this bullshit would get us all killed. I had to get out before one of us said something we couldn’t take back. I was afraid we might already have crossed that line.
“Don’t wait up!”
Chapter 9
Screaming.
Running.
Feet pounding.
Hearts thundering.
Adrenaline racing.
This was what I’d hoped for, what I’d wanted.
I elbowed through the hysterical mob running from the club in a large impenetrable mass. Shoving me from side-to-side, they screamed as I jammed through the crowd, forcing my way against the current. Everett was a warm constant presence at my back as I broke through the bodies and into the club. Music thumped on constant repeat like a skipping record, playing the same three bars over and over again.
The air was stale, stinking of sweat, fear, blood, and death. An arctic stab of prickly power shot up my spine from somewhere in the crowd. The same arctic blast from the club a few nights back. The stench of death filtered through the ventilation system, pumping the odor of fresh blood and rotting flesh through the club. Perfect.
Nova stood on the inside of the door of Ice, one of Patrick’s other clubs, ushering people out. Women and men clogged the door as Nova hurried to help and keep them from trampling each other, which was proving difficult. His shoulders slumped in relief and a weak smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as I passed by him.
“There’s six of them,” he said, shoving a screaming woman through the door.
Turning back to Ev, I yelled, “Stay with Nova. Get everyone out.”
He nodded and turned as I waded into the crowd. Once inside, I got a good look at what all the hubbub was about.
Alex stood in the center, surrounded by three zombies. Attacking her in organized shifts, controlled as if they were marionettes. Systematically they lunged at her, appearing as if they were trying to wear her down or just keep her occupied while the other two fed.
A fourth zombie crouched over a woman. She was kicking and screaming for all she was worth. The fifth zombie straddled a man who wasn’t fighting back, legs limp beneath the huddled creature and arms lying lifeless at his sides. The animated corpse ripped the man’s ear from his head with his black, decayed teeth, chewing a few times before swallowing the flesh mostly whole. A sixth lay in a dead lump on the floor, his head several feet away. At least Alex had managed to get one of them.
I drew Gladi from the sheath, listening to the sheen of metal as I slid her from the leather. She crested my shoulder with a gleam of light as the disco ball reflected off the blade and hummed in my grasp. Ready for the fight and blood to come, her magic sang with violence.
Running across the dance floor, I slid on my knees to the zombie still fighting with the woman. I sliced once, Gladi’s sharp edge penetrating easily through the dead flesh and severing the head from the rest of the zombie’s body. He crumpled to the ground in a heap of brittle bone and ragged clothing. The woman scampered away on broken heels and bloody hands, screaming as she pressed a shaking hand to her arm to staunch the bleeding.
Bouncing up to my feet, I ran and leapt across the empty dance floor to the other zombie and landed hard on its back. He shook, trying to free himself from the extra weight but I clamped down and rode him as he bucked and twisted. The man beneath him remained motionless and the small hope I’d held that he was still alive died. The man had no heartbeat and his eyes stared up, unblinking and empty into nothing.
I reared up with the zombie’s waist gripped tight between my thighs, putting some distance between myself and the stench of dead flesh. Plunging Gladi down into the zombie’s neck, I severed his spine as the sharp tip of the blade punched through to the other side. The sword hummed with delight as it drank up the magic keeping the zombie moving. Ripping Gladi free, the zombie beneath me crumpled into a lifeless heap.
“Any time, Sweetheart,” Alex called to me with an edge of urgen
cy to her voice. She ripped the head from one of the zombies and met my gaze. The moment she got a hold of the head, another one jumped on her back.
I ran for her, kicking out and striking one in the stomach with my boot. I swung Gladi around with my right hand, slicing the head of one zombie from its neck in a single, clean stroke. I moved on to the next, jamming the blade into the throat of the third. Alex tossed the zombie attached to her back over her shoulder and slammed him to the ground in a quick judo flip. Jamming her delicate foot down with all the strength her vampirism could muster, Alex crunched ribs in a sick crack of bone. She grabbed the long strands of dead, dirty blonde hair and yanked the zombie’s head from his body, holding it in place with her foot.
I turned, ready for more and only to be disappointed.
Alex strode up to me with a slow grin of appreciation on her small heart-shaped face. The zombie had messed up her perfect faux-hawk and it took everything I had not to rub her head just to make it worse. She’d punch me in the face if I did that.
Brushing her hair back into place with her fingers, we both turned toward the bar and the vampire perched on a stool as his arctic power sliced into me like a blade.
Sitting with a drink in his hand, legs crossed at the knee, and a bored expression lighting his gaze, the man from the club a few nights ago watched us. His shoulder-length, black hair was swept back and tucked behind one ear. His dark suit was pressed and unmarred by the events of the evening. With a smirk as we approached, he evaluated us and something in the pit of my stomach tightened.
“Be careful,” Alex mumbled a warning as we closed the distance across the dance floor. We sauntered side-by-side to the bar. “Isidro,” Alex said with forced cordiality. Her entire being stiffened as she bent at the waist, bowing to the other vampire.
“Alejandra.” He nodded to Alex and then turned to me. “You, my little flower, we haven’t been formally introduced.” His voice was deep, smooth, and inviting. He forced his power out through his voice in a way that suggested he thought he could mesmerize me. I guess the joke was on him. Meeting his gaze without a flinch of hesitation, I smirked at his surprised expression.
“Do we need to be?” I snorted.
“It’s only proper. I’m a good man to know.”
“Leave her be Isi,” Alex chided, finally frustrated with the banter.
“So protective, Alejandra. One would think The Blushing Death couldn’t take care of herself,” he taunted. Sliding a slick glance my way, he sipped the dark liquor in the glass. His eyes roamed over me in a way that made my stomach twist. He had a familiarity in his gaze that made me feel like he knew exactly how my blood would taste on his tongue.
“I’m not protecting her, Isi. I’m protecting you,” she sneered.
“She wouldn’t kill me. Not here in public with the police watching,” he said with a wave of his hand toward the door.
I turned at the sure, thundering steps of hard-soled shoes on the dance floor.
Derek crossed the now empty club with long, sure strides. His gray suit shone with the reflected light of the disco mirrored icicles dangling from the ceiling. The club was called Ice, what kind of décor would it be if there weren’t icicles dangling from the ceiling.
Glancing back to the vampire at the bar, I said, “Why not?” I gave him my best malicious grin, letting my monster peek through.
“Hey, Kid,” Derek called behind me. “Nice job cleaning up,” he said, glancing around at the bodies lying like fodder on the floor. I couldn’t be sure if he noticed the tension or that there was someone he didn’t know. Whichever it was, he took a step closer and asked, “We got trouble?”
“Unwelcome guests,” I answered, still smiling at the vampire.
“You need me to clear the boys out for a few minutes?” Derek asked, peering down at me and then over to the vampire on the stool. For the first time, I saw concern flicker across Isidro’s gaze.
“No, Detective Hamlin,” Alex said quickly. “He’s leaving.”
“Alex, he’s been here for days and hasn’t checked in with Patrick. Look at the damage he’s done here tonight,” I snapped, knowing full well Isidro’s magic had a different feel to it than the vampire who’d raised the zombies. But I couldn’t let him know the extent of my knowledge. Plus, I just wanted to push his buttons.
“This,” the vampire said, glancing around the club, “this wasn’t me.”
“Dahlia?” Derek questioned.
I was quiet for a long moment, meeting the vampire’s gaze as I tried to read into him, feel him. He was old, centuries upon centuries and his power cut through me like an icy knife but it lacked the dark edge from the cemeteries that scared the shit out of me. The dark edge of power that my Gladius had sliced through only moments ago wasn’t a part of this vampire. Isidro was a shit, and a powerful one at that, but he wasn’t the same shit raising people from their graves.
“I won’t kill you tonight,” I said matter-of-factly. “You have my word.”
“Okay Kid,” Derek said, placing his hand on my shoulder, reminding me he was there. “But don’t forget to give a statement to not seeing anything before you escort your new friend out.”
“I was in the ladies’ room. I didn’t see anything,” I quipped with a cocky grin.
“Me, too!” Alex chimed in.
“I bet,” Derek said, turning toward the uniform cops. He shouted to the techs processing the club and photographing the bodies. “Make sure this place is clear! No mistakes, guys. Get statements and get the Coroner in here! ASAP!”
“I’ve underestimated you. Perhaps we all have,” the vampire cooed. “You are well connected and as dangerous as they say.” His eyes ran over me again, a heat flaring in his gaze that in Patrick or Dean would’ve had me stripped naked and ready in moments. To see that same hungry gleam in this vampire’s eyes, did nothing for me. “But to watch you kill is a work of art,” he finished, not noticing my disinterest.
“Are you . . . flirting with me?” I asked, amazed.
“Is it working?” he asked. I had a feeling this guy got whatever he wanted with that devil-may-care grin.
Alex laughed, a sound I very rarely heard and it rankled along the back of my neck. She stepped between us, facing him.
“Don’t push her Isidro. And don’t push my Liege,” she threatened with a growl vibrating in her slender throat.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, smirking. “I’ve seen what happens to those that cross The Blushing Death.”
“Oh?” I asked, suddenly intrigued by his vague accusations and innuendos.
“Arthur’s demise was unexpected”—he smirked at me again—“but not unwelcome. The fallout was quite entertaining to watch.”
“Glad I could help,” I snorted. My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I grabbed it from my jeans, reading the text.
Saeran here. Negotiations on.
“Time to go,” I snapped. “We have more important things going on.” The cut was intentional. I didn’t like how comfortable he was and I especially didn’t like his familiarity with me or with Alex.
Alex turned and took a few steps toward the door. I couldn’t leave Isidro here thinking he’d won. I just couldn’t.
“I don’t know what you want here but you’re not welcome. Be gone by daybreak.” It wasn’t a threat. I don’t make threats. I turned and walked out with Alex taking two steps to my one.
“He’s the reason I turned to women,” Alex mumbled.
“I can see why,” I snorted.
“He thinks he’s God’s gift to all of us,” she gruffed as we exited the club.
“Someone should tell him he’s wrong.”
“I think you just did,” Alex said.
Uniform police ran in every direction as we navigated our way out.
“What is he doing here?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“He’s a member of the Lebensblut Board. What his purpose in our territory is, I can only guess.” Alex glanced over her shoulder at the man still sitting on the bar stool, sipping a drink.
“The timing is off. He’s not the one raising the dead. That much I can feel. But why? Why come now? I don’t like it.”
“Neither will Patrick,” Alex snorted.
That was for sure. I kept my eyes forward and strode through the doors. Fresh air slammed into my nostrils, clearing the scent of death and I couldn’t help but ask the question she was desperately trying to avoid.
“How do you know him?”
“He’s my brother.”
Chapter 10
“Raine,” the bastard’s voice was clear, even over the blaring horns, thumping music from the nearby clubs, and the wail of the police sirens approaching.
What is he doing here? That vampire’s interference would fuck up his plans with no recourse for retribution. He couldn’t kill a board member, could he?
“I believe it may be time to set our other plans in motion.”
He couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation but he didn’t need to. Isidro Grimaldi always had plans, schemes working toward his own devices. The board member’s presence in Patrick Cavanaugh’s territory could only mean one thing, Konyam didn’t trust him to succeed. That thought cut more deeply than a knife to the heart.
“I don’t yet have a timeline but it shouldn’t be long, Darling. Things are progressing at a much more accelerated rate than we had anticipated. Arrange what you must. I’ll be in touch.”
Emerald Fire (A Blushing Death Novel Book 6) Page 6