Blood Bound (22 page)

Startled, the men fell back, shouldering their weapons warily.

Still weak, Julian and Nico put up a token resistance, saving their strength as the men shackled them again to push and shove them down the hall and up the stairs.

More of Holbrooke’s men waited for them there, all armed.

With them, before them, on the plant floor, was a room full of the faithful.

Julian shook his head. He’d done nothing to these people and yet they hated him. Not for who he was but for what he was.

It was daunting.

As many mobs as he’d faced in his life, few carried automatic weapons. His heart sank as he looked at them. There was a very good chance they wouldn’t survive this time, the numbers and arms were simply too great.

That was bad enough but he and Nico couldn’t help but stare in grim horror at the ‘altar’ and the tools that lay on the table behind it.

A mallet, large and blunt, the head broad. Thick, sharpened wooden stakes. And a hacksaw.

The thought had been chilling enough, but to see them, to imagine one of those wooden stakes being pounded into his chest to smash through his ribcage, to rupture his heart, to feel the hacksaw chew through skin and bone…

Neither of them were strong enough to fight so many yet.

Holbrooke raved. “You saw them feed, saw them drink her life away. A woman they knew. Someone who trusted them. You know what they are. They’re paranormals, unnatural vermin who feed on the living.”

He gestured to his men. They closed on Julian.

“Yet they can be killed,” he gestured sharply to his men. “They and their minions.”

Julian fought them. Although strength was returning, it still wasn’t enough. Even so it still took six of them to wrestle him onto the altar and pin him there, even with his arms shackled behind him.

“See,” Holbrooke shouted, “even the King of the vampires is helpless before us. What more proof do you need that we are the righteous? That we are the servants of God?”

Turning, his smile spread, his expression triumphant as he looked into Julian’s eyes.

Holbrooke picked up the mallet and a stake slowly, almost reverently, drawing the moment out deliberately. He nodded to one of his men. That one ripped Julian’s shirt open.

As hard as Julian fought, Holbrooke centered the stake over his heart.

Julian was all too aware of the dull point of the thing pressed against his chest. The thought of it… of the crushing force required to drive the blunt shaft through his chest, into his heart, and of Nico having to watch, lent him new strength. He nearly threw them off, but more men came to pin him down on the altar.

Rafi.

Holbrooke raised the mallet as Nico struggled against the chains and those that held him, shouting in fury and frustration.

Chapter Twelve

At nearly the same moment three voices spoke nearly simultaneously, each with clear and unmistakable authority.

“Metro Police. Put down your weapons or we will shoot.”

Startled, Holbrooke’s people froze for a fraction of a second at the sight of guns pointed at them.

His voice remarkably steady in the face of nearly overwhelming opposition, one of the speakers said, “Some of you might just be thinking you have numbers on your side. I’ll just ask which one of you wants to meet your maker first.”

Another voice, far less calm said, “Piss me off and I might shoot you anyway but if you harm one hair on Julian’s head, I will fucking kill you.”

The first were spoken by a man Julian didn’t know.

The last words were snarled.

Rafi.

Everyone’s eyes shot to the slender figure braced in the doorway behind the altar. The gun in her hand was pointed directly at Holbrooke even as she flipped her badge open with the other. Her picture on the ID was clear as was the shiny gold detective’s shield.

“In case anyone has any doubts.”

Rafi’s heart had nearly frozen at the sight of Julian on the altar. In another instant, she knew it would have shattered. The sight of him with a stake over his heart was nearly more than she could bear. She tried not to look at him, to let her attention leave Holbrooke, with the mallet raised over the stake. The despair and fear for Julian on Nico’s handsome face was almost as bad. As well as the sure knowledge he would have been next. With Julian gone, they would have been free to do as they would with Nico.

Holbrooke’s shock at her appearance was obvious.

She grinned coldly. “You should have searched me, you moron.”

It had been a rough few moments in that cellar alone. The weakness had been unexpected, she hadn’t planned for it and the kick in the ribs hadn’t helped. It had knocked all the wind out of her. Only knowing what Julian and Nico faced here, alone, had kept her moving, although her heart had been hammering. She’d forced herself to keep going, keep going, seeing Julian’s face, Nico’s, in her mind’s eye, wanting something more than the memory of them after the events of this day.

She didn’t dare look too closely at either of them, not with Holbrooke so close to Julian, that mallet raised, but she knew with every cell in her body where they were. As she did Sasha, making his way cautiously toward her to cover her back.

For only a second, a brief moment, her gaze went to Julian and then Nico.

Even pinned to the altar by the hands of Holbrooke’s men, with fear and fury burning through him, Julian’s gaze met hers.

Julian looked at her.

Relief shot through him. There was a chance, a whisper of hope that they might live to see the sun rise again together, that he and Nico would make love to her, their true mate, once more.

Rafi. His heart.

So strong, so resolute.

She was so beautiful.

Her blue eyes blazed furiously, her jaw was tight against the pain and weakness that had to be running through her. That courage…

Julian could see her clearly now in the thin fluorescent lights that Holbrooke’s people had rigged in the abandoned factory.

A bruise darkened one side of her face and she hunched a little against pain in her ribs from the kick.

Fury gave him another burst of strength, not enough yet, but more. Once he’d been a warrior and in many ways he still was. All he needed was time to get his full strength back, just a little more time.

It was a precarious moment. He was all too aware of the stake against his chest as he tested the chains that bound him.

Rafi said. “Put the mallet down now, Holbrooke, or I will shoot you.”

“They’re vampires!” Holbrooke shouted, his fervid gaze going from her to Barnes to Sasha. “Paranormals. Pah! A prettier name than unnatural. Vermin, all of them. Undead. You know that! They deserve to die. You’re a cop, it’s your job as to protect and serve, to defend the people of this country against such unnatural creatures.”

Sid Barnes leaned a shoulder against the wall. The weapon in his hand never wavered as he braced it and looked down the barrel.

“Well, now,” he said, laconically. “As it happens, I’m a werewolf.” He tipped his head toward Sasha. “So’s he. Far as I’m concerned and most like me, we exist, therefore we’re natural. By the way, Rafi, I called for backup.”

“Good to know,” Rafi said. “Mr. Holbrooke, I’ll say it again. Put down the mallet. I will remind you that it has never been and never will be against the law to be a vampire. What goes on between two consenting adults is their business. It is, however, against the law to pound a stake through a man’s heart. As you clearly intend to do.”

Just the thought of it made her heart wrench, grief pouring through her at the very idea.

“If you hurt Julian, though, cop or no cop, I will find you and I will kill you. So I’m telling you right now to back up and drop the weapon.”

The sight of Julian with the stake pressed against his firmly muscled chest was sheer torture.

“They fed on you,” Holbrooke shouted. “It’s unnatural what they do. It’s against God.”

Her gaze locked on Holbrooke, Rafi was aware of his men separating, spreading out. In her peripheral vision she saw Sasha, slightly behind and to one side of her, tracking them with his weapon.

The crowd grew restless, shifting, moving toward them.

“They did, but it doesn’t matter, we were all consenting adults. As it happens, I liked it.”

Her words clearly shocked the crowd, there was universal gasp.

“In any case, as far as the law is concerned, they didn’t do anything to me, you did. You assaulted them and you assaulted me, an officer of the law. Even if you did somehow get the case to court on some kind of charge, it was you who attacked and drained them. That’s assault. It was you who threw me in with them knowing or thinking that you knew, what you’d driven them to. That’s attempted homicide at the worst, reckless endangerment at the very least. On you, not them.”

“The three of you can’t take all of us,” one of the men said.

Rafi had been afraid of that. It wouldn’t be long before they had an even bigger problem on their hands. The mood in the room was growing ugly. Only their weapons and badges had held the crowd back so far but it was a fragile hold. They were outnumbered, outgunned and the crowd was beginning to realize it. They would have a mob on their hands very soon. Despite that knowledge, as much as she wanted to do otherwise, she couldn’t just shoot Holbrooke, she had to follow procedure. Or risk him walking away to kill again.

Rafi narrowed her eyes at Holbrooke. “Let him go.”

Holbrooke, though, had sensed the same shift in mood. His eyes narrowed and he raised the mallet higher, in preparation to bringing it down.

Once they were accessories to murder, there would be no going back. And the crowd was filled with blood lust.

Fear shot through her and suddenly everything was crystal clear.

Nothing mattered but Julian and Nico. Nothing.

In the small space, the gunshot sounded incredibly loud. The bullet struck the mallet on the downswing, driving it back and Holbrooke off balance. His arms flailed as he staggered backward, and away from Julian.

Shocked, the crowd gasped.

That moment was all Julian needed, a brief distraction as his strength returned.

The chains snapped.

Both he and Nico exploded into motion.

With vampiric strength and speed Julian surged up from the makeshift altar, throwing off the men who restrained him. Sweeping one of them up, grasping throat and a thigh, he tossed the man into the crowd to drive them back. Another he caught by the arm to swing him and send him flying into some of the others.

He reached for Holbrooke’s throat as man recovered.

From the corner of his eye he saw Nico snap his chains as well, his cousin dropping a little to gather his strength and then drive upward, sending the men holding him staggering backward. An elbow to a guard’s gut dropped the man while a swift punch drove another back into some of his fellows.

For Nico it was something to be free again. Watching these men kick Rafi and then those moments of watching them wrestle Julian onto the altar had been terrible.

Now he was free to unleash his anger and fear on them.

Despite herself, Rafi couldn’t help but be both amazed and entranced as she watched Julian and Nico burst into action. Their speed and grace were incredible.

The guards’ momentary paralysis, their shock at their quarry turning on them, disappeared.

Gunfire erupted.

Rafi, Sasha and Sid Barnes returned fire, each having picked a target as Rafi and Sasha sought cover.

Bullets wouldn’t do permanent harm to either of the werewolves – not unless they were soft-nosed silvertips, which was unlikely – or Julian or Nico, unless they were struck by a lucky head or heart shot. Rafi, though, was more vulnerable. And she hadn’t been wearing a vest, as she became suddenly and forcefully aware. She felt the punch, the sudden breathlessness, but there was no time, the situation was deteriorating. If any of them were to survive, they had to keep fighting.

With the outbreak of gunfire some of the crowd attacked while others panicked. Several of the guards dropped while others fell to the two rampaging vampires.