Twice Bitten (26 page)

After a few minutes of counting, Gabriel stepped down off the platform, then beside me, moving closer to the crowd. He was symbolically rejoining them, committing to abide by their decision, whatever it might be.

Gabriel held up a closed fist. “The final chit. The deciding chit.” He opened his palm. The marble was white.

They were staying.

For a full five seconds, there was silence.

And then chaos broke out.

We’d been right, unfortunately. Although the men in the hallway might have had it in for Gabriel, they weren’t the only ones who did. And they hadn’t cared about the vote—they’d planned to affect the balance of power afterward.

The room erupted in sound as shifters began to rush the stage, ripping guns and knives from their leather as they moved. I was closest to Gabriel, so I unsheathed my sword and jumped in front of him until Ethan and Adam appeared to whisk him away and behind the podium.

Gabriel protected, Fallon, Jason, and Robin jumped down to the chapel floor. Fallon pulled dual daggers from her boots and joined me at the front. Jason and Robin tapped Jeff, then moved to the sides of the chapel to rein in the attack from the sides.

They weren’t the only ones who’d jumped to Gabe’s defense; however the shifters might have felt about the vote, the chits had been cast, and the decision had been made. The rest of them would abide by the decision. They would stay and fight.

And they would not abide traitors in their midst.

Send Christopher and Ben to the exit doors
, I silently told Ethan.
If this thing spills outside, someone will call the cops. We don’t need that right now.

Fallon and I shared a nod, then prepared to wield our steel.

The first wave was all bravado. A man in a leather jacket came at me with a murderous grin and a revolver.

“Oh, that’s almost too easy,” I said with a smile, and before he could snark back, I wrapped my fingers around his trigger hand and twisted upward, keeping the handgun pointed at the ceiling and out of harm’s way. I used the torque to bend his elbow, and he fell to his knees as tendon, sinew, and bone stretched to the breaking point.

When he muttered a few very unclassy epithets, I decided he’d be happier unconscious. I slipped the gun from his hand, and a low kick to the side of his head put him out of commission.

I glanced down at the raven bracelet on my wrist. It might not do much about animosity toward vamps, but it was great with the ass kicking.

The next shifter in line opted for a knife, and he was quicker than his now-sleeping friend. He used little thrusts and stabs that would have nailed me if I were a slower vampire. But I was fast, and I could dodge them, and he wasn’t the most creative of fighters. Unfortunately for him, he used the same little thrusts and stabs over and over again. Disarming him was a cinch, and I put him out with a knee to the chest that knocked the wind right out of him.

I glanced over and found Fallon eyeing me with amusement. “I like you,” she said, her own pile of bloodied shifters at her feet. “You’re very tidy.”

I grinned back. “I do hate a mess.”

While we had a second, I glanced around to take in the rest of the action. There were Keenes posted at the back and side chapel doors to keep the melee contained. Jason and Robin stood in the wings, fighting back their own bands of angry shifters. Robin’s lack of sight clearly didn’t impact his ability to kick ass. About one-third of the congregation was still seated; the other two-thirds were fighting one another in whatever snug space they could find.

“Quite a conference,” I muttered, then positioned my body for round two.

The first shifter was a woman, a petite thing with permed hair and curvy, Gothic daggers in her hands. She was nimble with her steel and good at defending my slashes. But she didn’t strike out; her moves were all defensive. That meant—at least I assumed—that she’d tire out before I did.

But there was no sense in delaying the inevitable.

When she nicked me on the forearm, I put the final plan in motion. I slashed forward, rearranging our positions so that she stood a few feet in front of the first pew, her back to the seat. A sideways kick to her torso threw her back against the bench. She hit the pew and slumped, hitting the ground, still upright, head forward as if in midnap.

“Behind you!” Fallon yelled. I dropped down and heard the
whoosh
of a kick fly over my head. I rolled and kicked both legs out toward the shifter behind me. I wasn’t close enough for a full-contact shot, so he stumbled backward before regaining his balance and coming at me again.

Fallon, finished with her cluster of traitors, used one hand to tuck long curls behind her ear, then delicately stuck out a booted foot. The man tripped and went sprawling, arms pin-wheeling as he hit the ground. Fallon nudged him on his back, then put a boot on his neck until he passed out from lack of oxygen. Hands on her hips, she glanced up at me.

“I appreciate the help,” I told her.

“Anytime. You’re good.”

“So are you,” I said, with a smile, thinking Jeff definitely had his hands full.

I scanned the crowd and found Jeff and Fallon in a corner. They chatted, their bodies close, their body language speaking of mutual concern . . . and mutual interest. Jeff looked up and over.

“You okay?” I mouthed.

He gave me a thumbs-up before turning back to Fallon. I’d all but lost him, I thought with a grin. But who better to keep Jeff busy—and smiling—than the gorgeous, dagger-wielding heir to the North American Central Pack?

Jeff secure, I moved back to the podium to check in with the bodyguards.

Ethan, Adam, and Gabriel sat in the choir stalls. Ethan met my gaze and nodded—an employer satisfied with the effort of his employee.

Unfortunately, this time it was Gabriel who’d taken a hit—a shot in his left bicep. Adam attended to it, wrapping what looked like an altar cloth around the wound to staunch the bleeding. Gabriel glanced up at me. “So,” he said, a hint of a smile at his lips, “I guess we’re staying.”

“That’s what I hear,” I said, then adopted a schoolteacher tone. “I’m really going to need to see some better behavior out of your children.”

He smiled grandly. “I do enjoy your smartassery, Kitten.”

I nodded at the compliment, then looked to Ethan. “You okay?”

“Quite. You and Fallon made a good team.”

“Don’t give them ideas,” Gabriel muttered, then slid Adam a narrowed gaze. “Could you possibly make that tighter?”

Adam gave him a grunty smile as he tied off the make-do bandage. “I was taught by a certain big brother not to half-ass things.”

“Yeah, and look how well that turned out for me,” Gabriel said ruefully, surveying the sanctuary. “We’ve half destroyed a church. Although the damage still isn’t as bad as the ninety-two ConPack.”

“Or ninety-four,” Adam added with a wicked smile. He rubbed a hand across his stomach. “Ninety-four was a wild ride.”

Gabriel gave a gravelly chuckle, then knocked knuckles with his brother. “True, true.”

“What’ll happen to the fighters?” I asked.

Gabriel stood, cradling his arm. “We’ll have a little discussion about Pack behavior and what it means to abide by Pack rules.”

“They try to take you out, and they just get a discussion?” I wondered aloud.

Gabriel gave me a sardonic look. “I don’t mean ‘discussion’ literally.”

“Will you punish them the same?” Ethan asked. “I mean, those who set up the hit and those who actually tried to take you out?”

Gabe muttered something I didn’t catch. Given his tone, I assumed it was unflattering about vampires. “We don’t just line them up and start shooting, Sullivan. There are degrees of culpability, just like in the human world. As for convocation, the decision’s been made. Irrespective of the contract or the hit, they voted the way they voted, and the Packs will stay.” He glanced over at Ethan. “The things we discussed—about friendship?—my people are too wired for that right now. Maybe in the future, maybe never, but certainly not right now.”

Ethan did a good job of maintaining his composure in the face of Gabriel’s rejection, but I knew he was cursing inside. He’d practically bet the House—or at least his Sentinel—on the possibility of an alliance between Cadogan and the Pack.

“Understood,” Ethan said, “but the contract wasn’t fulfilled. You’re still alive. That means there’s still a possibility someone will take a shot.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Pack leadership passes through the family. So if something happens to me, Fallon becomes Apex, then Eli, and so on down to Ben and Adam. The only reason to try to take me out would have been to influence the vote. But the die’s been cast, so there’s no chance of that now.” He shrugged. “By my math, I’m off the hook.”

I wasn’t sure if I bought Gabriel’s theory, especially since the violence had erupted
after
the vote was counted, but I understood the urge to move on and clear the vampires out of his belfry. Besides, we couldn’t guard him twenty-four hours a day. We barely had staff enough to cover our own House.

Gabe held out his uninjured hand to Ethan. “Thank you again for your help. Your Sentinel does good work.”

They shook hands. “That she does,” Ethan said.

“Might be time to think about that raise.”

“Don’t push your luck, Sentinel.”

A girl had to try.

I’d stripped off my leather jacket when we returned to the Mercedes, the June heat providing more than enough insulation. But it took a few minutes of driving before I noticed the tiny nubbin in the pocket.

“Oh, damn,” I muttered.

Ethan looked over in alarm. “What?”

I reached into the jacket pocket, then pulled out the earpiece Luc had given me. “I totally forgot to use this.”

An eyebrow quirked up, Ethan reached inside his own jeans pocket and pulled out his earbud. I guess I hadn’t been the only forgetful vampire.

He offered me a secret smile. “Let’s not tell Luc about this, perhaps.”

“You know what else?”

“What’s that, Sentinel?”

“I also forgot my cabbage rolls.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was grinning when he did it. “You’ll have to live without them, because you couldn’t pay me enough to go back to that church.”

“Too much shifter tonight?”

“By a large degree, Sentinel. And the irony is, we’ve convinced them to stay.”

“Well, that’s kind of a victory, isn’t it?”

“Given our other options, I suppose so. You did good today, and I mean that sincerely. You showed a lot of bravery, and you executed well. Your work honors Cadogan House.”

Ethan’s tone was solemn, earnest. I’d heard his Master vampire tone of appreciation; this was different. More like affection than professional approbation. And since he was the one who’d pushed me away—something he’d undertaken at his own risk—I opted to ignore the undercurrent. Being rejected and trying to stay professional—pushing down my feelings to stay focused on the task at hand—was hard enough on its own. I couldn’t bear his remorse, too, and it wasn’t fair for him to try to use me to make himself feel better.

So I kept the mood light. “Least I could do.”

He shifted in his seat as if preparing a monologue. I thought quickly, then made my move. I turned on the radio, found a station playing a song I had to sing along with, then rolled down my window. I leaned an elbow on the door and turned my face to the wind, letting the city and the sound roll over me.

The rest of the ride was quiet.

Maybe he got the hint.