Bishop (New Vampire Disorder Book 3)

by Marie Johnston

  Fyra counted to ten to relax. She was out from under the protection of the compound and felt like tiny red targets were painted all over her. If only what she’d drunk from Bishop would mute her demon call.

  What if she feasted on him every night? No, then he’d feed from her and his blood would send out the song of her people.

  She wanted to growl in frustration. How could she ever be left alone?

  Bishop reached over and laid his hand on top of hers.

  They drove in silence until they reached Godet’s place. Huh, she’d never seen the outside, thanks to Stryke knocking her out.

  What a monstrosity, but she admired its fireproof exterior. Most primes had houses made of brick, but the big bad wolf wasn’t the reason for it. They didn’t want a structure that was easy to catch fire.

  Like the compound. It’d burn, but the exterior would stay smoking for a while. She recalled all the scorch marks on Bishop’s walls.

  Bollocks, it’d never work for her to live there. What about when she got the compunction to carve her life’s story? Sheetrock didn’t make for good cave art.

  Bishop’s fingers curled around hers, effectively cooling her heat. If he hadn’t, she would’ve set the seat on fire. Rourke probably had a fire extinguisher hidden in his pants and not in a double-entendre way.

  Zoey pulled to a stop in the trees and they climbed out. Little moonlight lit the surroundings. Cloud cover was thin, lending the night an eerie feel.

  All three vampires took deep breaths. Their senses were more acute than hers. A trade-off she’d take rather than her demon-homing beacon.

  “I don’t sense any others here,” Rourke reported. “No brimstone.”

  “None of my kind,” Fyra said.

  “We go in,” Zoey said, “find what we can.”

  Bishop cupped her elbow and flashed her to the entrance with the others. The ride was so quick. A girl could get used to that. She’d have to test Stryke’s energy hoodoo and see if she could ride the energy wave.

  They swept through the house. Fyra stayed away from the room she’d been held in. Avoidance was the best medicine.

  Bishop stuck to her, unwilling to let her be on her own after such a crappy experience in the house. A sweet gesture but unnecessary; otherwise, he’d have to shadow her all over the underworld.

  She was looking through the desk in the room Bishop had originally broken into when she stiffened. Bishop sensed the sudden change from across the room, where he was sifting through books on the shelves.

  “They’re here,” she announced.

  His nostrils flared as his attention was directed out the door.

  Demons were pinging her internal detector left and right. She hadn’t been worried before, but Rancor must’ve recruited some serious numbers.

  A body busted through the partially broken window. Fyra reacted before she could think and threw her hands up.

  A blast of light hit the possessed human and he screamed. She winced at the shriek but backed up as the chasm opened to suck the second-tier back home. Bonus, it sucked in the flames with it before her fire could engulf the room.

  Bishop was at her back as two more humans rushed the office. He fired off two shots from his gun. She spun in time to see the weapon go flying and hit the wall, releasing another discharge.

  The telekinetic twins. Fyra suppressed her fireballs, lest they be redirected back to her face.

  Bishop went for one of his knives, but she laid a hand on his arm.

  “They’ll make you use them against yourself—or me.”

  Understanding dawned a second before he covered her and shoved them both out of the way.

  An office chair careened over their heads. Bishop roared and charged the closest. The demons might be able to challenge Bishop, but the weak human bodies they inhabited were toast.

  Fyra lunged to take on the second. He was ready for her. A flick of his hand and she was flung against the wall. The breath was knocked out of her and she thudded onto the floor.

  Hellfire. A chair was one thing, but to be able to throw them around…

  Bishop picked his human up to pile-drive him into the second demon, but they both were flung back.

  Their bodies clattered over the desk and disappeared behind it.

  The one Fyra had tried to tackle bared his nonexistent fangs at her.

  “Sorry to break it to you,” she said, “but you look like you’re trying to smile while constipated when you do that.”

  The snarl faltered and rage filled his black eyes.

  There was a sickening thunk and she sucked in a breath. Silver glinted off the hilt of the knife that had been sunk into the human’s chest.

  His mouth froze open and he stared down at it with morbid fascination. Flicking his fingers, he moaned in pain. The knife slid out and clattered to the floor, the human’s body following.

  She swiveled her gaze to where Bishop was up on a knee, his hand still outstretched from the knife throw. He rose fully behind the desk and bent to snatch up the body of the human he’d taken down.

  When the gaping black vacuum to her realm opened, he crossed the office and chucked the body inside.

  Suddenly quiet in the room, she was able to hear the conflict raging in the rest of the manor.

  She was up before Bishop could hold his hand out for her, and they raced toward the melee.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zoey faced off with the vampire bitch who’d cornered her—in the freaking bathroom. No one was finding out about this.

  She seethed. This was a new low, even for demons. Trying to take care of nature’s demands, thanks to the twenty-ounce Gatorade she’d downed for breakfast, and they’d attacked.

  Zoey had barely zipped her ass back into her leathers when the door had been blown off. She’d hopped into the shower and now stared through the glass at one of the females she’d gone to school with.

  One she had a serious beef with.

  “Morgana,” Zoey forced her voice to be calm. “I see time has not been kind.”

  “Zohana, you wretched hag. How is it possible you became even more of an uptight bitch?” The female’s blood-red lips twisted into a smug smile. “I’m sooo sorry to hear about Mitchell’s demise. Did things get too hot between the two of you?”

  The image of Mitchell’s handsome face turning blistering red from the flames overtaking him was one burned into Zoey’s memory. Every hour, every time she closed her eyes, she saw him mouthing, “I love you!” before he was consumed.

  Morgana wanted her to go berserk, but Zoey was the queen of calm. Only Mitchell had been her safe spot to lose control, and usually only in bed.

  “Just for that, I think I’m going to rip out your fangs and shove them in your jugular.” Zoey put her hands on her hips, but she was really angling for a better grab for her knife.

  The other female’s black gaze turned calculating. She had to be possessed, and by one of the Circle, but Morgana appeared to be fully in charge. Was she that powerful that she could hold off the power of one of the Circle?

  “Before you do,” Morgana’s smug tone emphasized her pleasure in taunting Zoey with the loss of her true mate, “let me note that he’d still be alive if he’d stayed with me.”

  Zoey let out the most indelicate snort, and it was so fitting for the female who thought she trumped the bond of true mates. “Doubtful. Misery can kill a guy.”

  Mitchell had been about to break things off with the evil female when he and Zoey had met. Morgana had always blamed Zoey instead for losing a prime male of Mitchell’s worth.

  Morgana’s arrogant smile returned. “He never sounded miserable in between my legs.”

  Oh, that bitch. “I’m sure you never heard him over your epic ego.”

  Anger burned in the black gaze. “We didn’t talk,” Morgana bit out.

  “Well, we did. And he said you were an insufferable bore whose only friend was the one on the other side of the mirror.” Zoey snorted again. Dammit! Good thing
she didn’t play poker, that reaction would give away a shit hand every time. “Actually, I lied.” She leaned in closer to the glass and lowered her voice. “He didn’t talk about you at all.”

  The comment hit the bull’s-eye Zoey was aiming for. Morgana screeched and lunged like she was going to plow through the glass.

  Because she was.

  Shards of glass sprayed the bathroom seconds before hands wrapped around her neck.

  Zoey’s back hit the wall, but she kept her own hands firmly at her side. Morgana’s nails bit in and this close it was clear the female was possessed. The glee in the demon’s gaze shone through what was left of Morgana. The demon was female and her pleasure in their catfight oozed out of Morgana’s every pore.

  As soon as her fingers touched the hilt of her knife, Zoey jerked it out and shoved it into Morgana’s abdomen. The other female only grunted, her upper lip curling against the pain. They were so close, Zoey could only withdraw and shove it back into the same spot.

  Morgana grunted.

  Zoey moved her lips, trying to distract the female.

  “What?” Morgana snarled and eased the pressure slightly.

  She mouthed gibberish, easy to do with the agony at her throat. Morgana leaned closer and Zoey twisted the knife.

  “You’re not going to kill me before you run out of air.” Morgana’s sultry voice grew deeper. The demon was taking more control with each second. “So, I think I’ll just drink you dry.”

  Fangs flared in front of Zoey’s face before Morgana dropped a hand at her neck to create an opening and struck. Zoey was wrapped in a bear hug with the vampire latched onto her neck. She couldn’t move her arms; the female’s strength had been tripled thanks to her inner demon. Morgana’s mouth stung as it siphoned her blood, leaving Zoey wanting to wretch.

  Zoey slammed up a knee, which was the equivalent of moving it two inches and nudging it between Morgana’s legs. Their embrace was damn near intimate. As if that didn’t spur memories of Morgana’s attempted intrusions into her life with Mitchell. Zoey tried again, aiming instead for Morgana’s ballet-slippered foot.

  Bones crushed under Zoey’s combat boot.

  Another grunt, but no give.

  The brimstone scent grew stronger and a shadow moved behind Morgana. But it was probably just her fading consciousness.

  Blood pounded in her ears, her heart having to work hard to keep her brain functioning.

  Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. If she couldn’t keep Mitchell alive, how’d she expect to save herself?

  Stryke slammed the wooden stake into the vampire’s heart, ensuring it didn’t go through and take Zoey out, too.

  Morgana screamed in the back of her throat, but her jaw disengaged.

  A roar of fury followed. That one was from Hypna. Would she know it was Stryke who’d thwarted her? If she did, Zoey was dead and he was in for a world of torture and pain.

  Morgana’s body burst into ash. Zoey crumpled, her eyelids falling closed. Blood ran in rivulets down her neck and soaked her black shirt.

  He caught her before she sank all the way.

  The groan that preceded the portal to the underworld echoed against the ceramic tile of the shower.

  Cradling Zoey to his chest, he stumbled out of the bathroom into the attached master bedroom. He’d chosen the same young human he’d inhabited before, but while Zoey didn’t match Fyra’s heft, the kid still struggled under her weight.

  How he’d dreamed of holding Zoey again, only to his own chest.

  He laid her on the bed and hovered over her, inspecting her.

  So pale. Alabaster skin covered a fluttering pulse that was having trouble keeping her heart going. She’d be a target for anyone who walked by, other than her team. Her buddies could help revive her, but Stryke’s feet wouldn’t move. He couldn’t leave her completely defenseless.

  Finally stepping back, he closed his eyes and stepped out of the human, Lee. The young man stumbled at suddenly having control of his body again.

  Stryke faced him toward the wall and growled, “Don’t move.”

  It seemed to work. The more Stryke used the kid, the easier it was to move in and out of him. Like the dude had been aimless for so long and relished an authority figure. Stryke sympathized. Been there, done that, had the fang marks to prove it.

  Never again, and for that reason, Stryke knew he was more protective of Lee than he had been with any other host. At twenty-one, the boy was really a man, but a diet of booze and a day full of sleeping did not a man make. Last time Stryke had stepped from him, he’d told Lee to buy some carrots and chicken breasts and learn how to cook.

  Speaking of food, he switched back to Zoey. He sat on the bed next to her and bit into his wrist. He swore on his father’s dark heart that he hated fangs and biting. He hated that he had them and he used to hate all creatures who did, too. Humans were naturally unlikeable, so that meant he’d hated everyone.

  Until Zoey had entered his life. Or he’d entered hers, as it were.

  He rested his wrist against her lips and wiggled it until his blood seeped into her mouth.

  She wasn’t swallowing. He adjusted his position to bring him closer so he could wedge his other arm under her and raise her head and shoulders up.

  The movement spurred a swallow and she latched on. Her eyes stayed closed and he wanted to will them open. Wanted her to finally see him.

  Enough. He couldn’t afford to reveal himself. Not yet. Then she’d go and say something to the others and they’d hunt him. He had enough underworld bullshit to deal with, he didn’t need her team hunting him, or worse, asking questions. Fyra putting two and two together was enough of a risk. She wouldn’t mean to put Stryke in the Circle’s crosshairs—no, she would. She’d have a good reason, one he couldn’t begrudge her for, but she’d do it in a hot second to save her own ass. Or Bishop’s big ass.

  Zoey’s color had returned. He withdrew his wrist and gently set her back down.

  She moaned and turned to her side, her eyes still closed as her body finished repairing itself.

  Stryke hurried back into Lee and darted out of the room. He needed to see how everyone was faring and figure out how to remain uninvolved without anyone noticing.

  ***

  Bishop’s gun was jammed, thanks to the demon throwing it across the room. He cursed and shoved it back into its holster and chose another. They’d found Rourke in a sitting room, taking on three possessed humans.

  Fyra stalled next to him and her eyes got a faraway look. “Brimstone and tinder, Hypna’s here, too.” She frowned. “Never mind, she’s gone now.”

  Bishop shook his head and retrieved another pistol. Having Fyra at his back in a fight provided a running commentary.

  “Rancor’s close.” Her voice was hushed, but Rourke nodded and pointed to the second door at the other end of the room. They were adjoining bedrooms.

  Fyra snapped her fingers and sparks flew. She lobbed a fireball at one of the humans attacking Rourke. The human was incinerated. “He and Hypna must’ve used their vampire hosts and flashed all the humans here.”

  Bishop had figured so, too. He nailed a second human with a head shot, but he and Fyra let Rourke finish off the third as they all steered clear of the demons getting sucked into the underworld.

  Rourke snapped the man’s neck and tossed him aside. He stood with his chest heaving and scanned the room. “Zoey?”

  Bishop didn’t answer but charged out the door to find Rancor. Fyra was right behind him.

  Rancor, in Godet’s body, had run to the window to escape, but it was locked. He spun around with his fangs bared.

  Bishop raised his gun to empty his clip, so damn frustrated it wouldn’t do any good, but at least it would cut off Rancor’s link to the realm. Fyra’s stream of fire beat him to it.

  Rancor’s snarl of rage faded to Godet’s cry of pain as he burned to ash.

  The drapes caught fire.

  Rourke rushed in. “The room is on fire.”
His gaze caught the smoking curtains. “Rooms.”

  Bishop spun and herded them out to the hallway. “We have to find Zoey.”

  “She was searching the top floor,” Rourke shouted and they raced to the stairs.

  Smoke alarms were blaring and the sprinkler system went off. Once those had been invented, every vampire who could afford one had gotten one installed, but they were no good against demon fire. Bishop increased his speed.

  It wasn’t until the third room that they found Zoey sitting up in bed, holding her head.

  She squinted up at them and swooned. Rourke went to her, Fyra hung back. He sensed she wasn’t sure she was welcome to check on Zoey. Bishop studied the bedroom.

  There wasn’t much damage, but he smelled copious amounts of blood, and brimstone clogged the air.

  Zoey released a manic chuckle. “I won’t be plagued by Morgana Dossier anymore.”

  Bishop hadn’t heard that name in ages, but the Dossiers were the cream of the prime crop and knew it.

  Zoey coughed and gingerly touched her neck. “She almost killed me, dammit. But someone shanked her.”

  Rourke’s brows dropped and he glanced at Bishop. Bishop shook his head. Fyra tiptoed to the window.

  She flipped the lock and threw it open. Squaring off, she cupped one hand with the other and aimed an index finger. A tiny fireball flew from her fingertip.

  “Are you going to ignite the woods, too?” Rourke’s dry tone held a hint of panic, like he thought she was crazy enough to do it.

  “Nah, it fizzled out at his feet.” She snickered. “But the jolt it gave him was extremely satisfying. Oh, look. A one-finger wave.” She waved cheerfully in return.

  Bishop crowded behind her. “Who?”

  “Stryke’s running away as fast as those little human legs can go.”

  “Do you think he saved Zoey?” Bishop asked.

  Fyra’s expression sobered and she murmured, “If he did, if she’s the one he… The poor bastard.”

  “The fire’s spreading fast.” Rourke lifted Zoey to her feet, but she leaned heavily against him.

  Timbers groaned beneath them and heavy smoke was billowing in under the door.