Raven Mask (27 page)

I slammed the rickety wooden nightstand into the wall. The corner of the table caved part of it, but not enough. The nightstand broke and splintered on impact. I grabbed the edge of the hole in the wall, bracing myself with my foot against the baseboard, and started tearing pieces of plaster away with my bare hands. I could’ve shifted, could’ve called the beast to the surface, but it was unnecessary when I could just as easily dig a hole with my human hands.

Tearing the plaster away allowed some of the light to shine into a small room beyond.

Timothy was slumped over on his side, his arms shackled behind his back. A strip of dirty cloth speckled with blood and saliva was bound between his lips.

“Timothy. Oh, Timothy, what have they done to you?”

A bass growl shuddered across my spine. Every hair on my body suddenly stood at attention.

“He wasn’t cooperating,” a masculine voice said. I whirled around to find Maddox’s huge frame standing in the doorway. Rosalin sank low, her ears drawn back, ready to attack. Her own bass growl rumbled against her chest, building as it flowed out of her muzzle. She snapped at the huge bulk of vampire in the doorway, snarling and showing her sharp teeth. Maddox either didn’t care or didn’t feel particularly threatened.

His eyes met mine across the room. At first, I thought his pupils were dilated, but then I realized they weren’t. His irises were as black as his pupils.

He took a step forward, and Rosalin snapped again. He stopped, finally looking down at the massive werewolf.

“I don’t mean any harm,” he said.

“I’m supposed to believe that?” I slowly reached behind me to draw the Pro.40.

“I want to help.”

Rosalin gave another threatening snarl, discouraging him from stepping into the room. Not many vampires wanted to wrestle with a werewolf. Maddox was built like a bodyguard, like he was used to throwing people around, so I imagined he was stronger than most vampires. In truth, the two of us against Maddox were probably an equal match when it came to strength, but alone…alone either one of us would probably have gotten our butt kicked.

Maddox didn’t make a move to step into the room. He turned, looking down the hallway. “Get the boy,” he said as I heard a door slam shut somewhere. “I’ll take care of the others. Once you get the boy, ask him about me. Find out for yourself if I’m trustworthy.” He turned and, in a blur of speed that belied his heavy bulk, disappeared.

I’d torn apart enough of the wall to reach in and touch Timothy’s shackled arms. His legs were restrained at the ankles. He wiggled, trying to get closer to me, to help me get him out of the dark prison. I got a good grip and pulled, dragging him over the jagged edge of plaster. I jerked him against me, turning him around, and tore the knot behind his head.

The corners of his mouth were bloody where the gag had begun to tear into his skin. His head lolled forward and I put a hand on each of his shoulders, bracing him, holding him upright. He blinked, as if he was having a hard time fixing his gaze on any one thing in particular.

“He’s…” Timothy’s voice was hoarse like he’d been screaming for hours. He coughed, trying to clear his throat, which made my heart hurt. He was just a boy.

“He’s okay,” he said at last. “Maddox. He was bringing me food. He got in trouble for me.” He cleared his throat again. “That’s when they put me in the wall.”

The youth that had been in his eyes the last time I saw him alive was no longer there. That cool energy, the smell of night air…

I put two fingers under his jaw. “Let me see.”

He did what I asked. Slowly, as if it pained him, he opened his mouth to reveal a set of fangs.

“I told you not to. Why?”

“I had to know.” He shivered. “He’s got Alyssa. He’ll turn her.”

“He hasn’t done it yet?”

“He saved it for tonight.”

I touched the shackles at his wrists. “Let’s get these off you.”

Gently, I helped him turn around so I could get a closer look at his bindings. The metal clasps were secured around his wrists by a lock in the middle. Blood gleamed on both his wrists. He’d struggled against them. If a vampire was weak enough to be unable to snap a lock, he had to be starved. I curled my index finger around the top loop of the lock and pulled, popping it out of place. I did the same to the lock between his ankles.

“That’s the best I can do right now. Are you okay?”

I could tell it hurt him to move his arms. Vampire or human, being held in the same position for too long would eventually hurt. He looked at the metal bracelets. “I’m fine.”

The wall in the hallway shuddered before I heard footsteps approaching. I drew the gun, aiming at the doorway, and didn’t lower it when Maddox appeared. His hands and one side of his face were covered in blood.

“We have to go,” he said.

We stared at one another for several moments while I debated whether to trust him. Timothy had said the vamp was on our side. I hoped he was right.

“Fine,” I growled, “but pull any stupid shit, and I will make sure you are well and truly dead.”

“Understood,” he said, motioning us out of the room.

“Do you know what’s going on downstairs?” I asked him.

“Your friends have discarded the Count’s pawns. We need to be with them when they face the Count himself.”

I didn’t argue but followed him. Rosalin took up the rear and we placed Timothy in a protective circle between us.

If anyone wanted him, they’d have to get through us first.

Chapter Thirty-Five

The main part of the church looked like Christianity’s idea of the apocalypse. Vampire bodies were strewn across the pews, children and older vampires alike. Their blood created pools in the white carpet. I walked down the aisle and toward the scene at the altar.

The Count of Counts stood by his throne in an old-fashioned suit of blue crushed velvet. Black lace blossomed at his neck and wrists. Eris knelt in front of the small stage. A blood-soaked sword lay idly on the floor, like she’d dropped it. The muscles in her arms twitched as if she braced herself against some unseen force.

“You think you can defeat me?” The Count’s laugh unnerved me because it was not the laugh of someone in his right mind.

I started to ask Maddox why Eris was kneeling, but then I looked past my shields. I didn’t see anything, but I sensed it. The energy and power in the air was unmistakable.

The Count of Counts wasn’t just any old vampire. He was a psychic vampire and he was feeding off Eris.

Without thinking I strolled forward. “You’re fucking pathetic,” I said loudly, forcing my voice to carry across the entire church. His power wavered, interrupted. Good, I wanted to spoil his party. The Count of Counts gazed at me with clear blue eyes. Most of his face was hidden behind thick black brows and a lush black goatee.

“Look at that,” he said joyously. “Another toy to play with. I must thank you, Lenorre, for bringing your most powerful assets to my party.”

Maddox stepped up beside me, drawing the Count’s attention to himself. The Count’s eyes widened a fraction. “You traitorous—”

The Count staggered, bringing a hand up to his cheek. His fingers came away with blood.

He turned like a raging lion on Lenorre. “You will pay for that!”

Lenorre did not give the Count the satisfaction of a reply.

“Traitor?” Maddox’s voice was thick with scorn. “You call me traitor? You murdered my Countess. You unsettled our people and placed your puppet to rule in her stead. You came here thinking to do the same and there would be no consequences. You are the traitor.”

I drew the Pro.40, sighting down the barrel at the bridge between the Count’s eyes. His attention shifted back to me.

“You would not da—”

Yeah, actually, I would. I pulled the trigger and chaos erupted.

Maddox rushed the Count, hitting him like a battering ram, sending both of their bodies to the stage floor.

The Count sprang to his feet, blood flowing from the bullet wound. “I’d kill her again just to hear her sweet pleading.”

Maddox threw a right hook that sent the Count’s head whipping back at an awkward angle.

The two began fighting in earnest. The Count blocked Maddox’s next punch, using his forearm to sweep it aside. He dealt a blow to Maddox’s midsection, hard enough I heard something crack.

I cursed, trying to get a good shot, but the fight was speeding up. The sound of blows fell faster, heavier. Maddox and the Count moved across the stage like angry blurs. Fucking vampires, they moved too Goddess-damned fast.

Lenorre helped Eris to her feet and they turned, focusing on the fight in front of them with expressions of utter calm. The Count stumbled dramatically as Maddox landed another blow on the side of his face.

The Count’s entourage had probably been the only thing that had kept Maddox from kicking his ass sooner. Watching Maddox fight like some pissed-off vampiric elephant, I was happy I wasn’t the Count.

The warning howl of Rosalin’s wolf made every one of my senses rock to high alert. I spun around.

“Kassandra!” Timothy cried.

Crippling pain shot up my right leg, searing like fire. Hands like steel clawed at me. My right leg gave out from under me, taking me to my knees. The child vampire reared like a snake about to strike again. Blood swelled under my newly torn khakis. I hit her with the back of my hand, sending her small frame colliding into one of the pews.

She sprang back like a jack-in-the-box, a river of my blood spilling down her chin, and hissed ferally.

The wolf didn’t like that. She pushed against the surface and snarled. The vampire lunged and I dodged, grabbing a handful of her coppery curls.

There was drying blood on the front of her apricot gown. Whatever wound had been dealt, her body had healed.

The vampire child swung at me, trying to tear at my body with her nails as if she thought they were claws. The wolf’s growl built deep in my chest.

Her body went completely slack. “You would hurt me?” she asked in a small voice.

The world slipped out from under me. She was just a child. How could I hurt her?

The gun in my hand felt heavy, so heavy. The wolf’s anger sailed through me, igniting the blood in my veins, pushing the vampire’s mind-fog back. One predator knows another’s tricks.

“Oh, please,” I growled, and shoved the barrel into the soft skin of her neck.

Beyond the sound of something crashing, I heard the bullet hit stone.

The child vampire fell to the floor in an apricot heap.

I scanned the church, right and left, sighting down the barrel and each pew as I made my way back toward the head.

Maddox hit one of the pews, toppling it over as he tried to get back to his feet.

Lenorre and Eris, holding bloody swords, stood at opposite sides of the stage with the Count between them. Surrounded by death and violence, Lenorre was still calm, as if she had all the patience in the world. Power turned her gray eyes the color of liquid mercury.

I steadied the gun on the Count of Counts.

“You think your little gun can hurt me?” he asked, voice strained.

Blood pumped from the wounds they had dealt him. Somewhere in his fight with Maddox, Lenorre and Eris had managed to catch the Count off guard.

“No,” I said, my voice sounding unnaturally calm, “but they can.”

Lenorre and Eris rushed him in a blur of supernatural speed and strength. I kept the gun sighted on him. Eris drove her sword high through his chest, piercing his heart, tearing a ragged, pain-soaked scream from his mouth. Their movements perfectly in tune, Eris dropped to her knees to stay out of Lenorre’s way, allowing her Countess to deal the final blow. Lenorre’s slimly muscled arms drew back and, like a beautiful, deadly Goddess, she effortlessly sliced through the Count’s neck with the bloodied blade.

He collapsed and, as his body swayed forward, his head fell to the floor like a rejected ball.

Lenorre strode toward me, the bloody sword swinging at her side, drops falling behind her like vampiric breadcrumbs leading to death. One side of her face was smeared with blood, clumping in the curls that fell against her cheek. I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. She placed her empty hand on my back and pulled me against her, her lips meeting mine in a kiss so hard I nearly lost my balance.

I slid my hands up the sides of her torso, careful of the Pro.40 still in my right hand. My hands followed the base of her ribcage, curling around her back. As soon as my hands brushed over her spine, I felt the sheath there. The nylon protection created a slight interruption in her clothing, but if I hadn’t been touching her, I would’ve never known it was there. No wonder she and Eris had turned down our offer of weapons.

She drew away from the kiss. “I understand it is not quite the time and the place…”

I put a finger over her mouth. “I know. I’m just glad you’re alive.” I hadn’t realized until then how much of the worry I’d managed to push aside in order to fight. I cupped her face in my hands, carefully pointing the gun away from her as I guided her mouth back toward mine.