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Garrett put up a hand. “No. Jack and I are done risking our lives for a girl that is more than likely already dead. We’re leaving and revisiting this in the morning.”

Jackson’s eyes widened, but before he could speak, Dominique had Garrett by the front of his shirt. “You are mortals in a blood-drinker house after sunset. The only way you leave here alive is with my help. Which you will not have unless Cassidy is with you,” he finished on a low growl.

Fury flashed in Garrett’s eyes, but he said nothing. Message received. Dominique let him go.

From a seat in the next row, Jackson collected two small backpacks, and secured the loose roll of duct tape into one before slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m here for Cassidy,” he said and tossed the other pack at his uncle. “With or without you.”

Garrett cursed. “We have no weapons, no Kevlar, nothing. Just how far do you think we’re going to get past that door with nothing but utility gear?” He brandished the pack before throwing it aside.

“You have me,” Dominique said. “And you have this.” He handed the captured guard’s pistol to Jackson without looking away from Garrett. “Now shut your ugly face and let’s go.” He sped to the door.

“Hell’s freezing over,” Garrett said under his breath.

Jackson scoffed. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

Outside the theater was a study, richly appointed in tones of green, red, and gold. A gas fireplace hissed, and a small Christmas tree filled one corner, adding a festive glow. In the adjoining living room, a TV was on. Beneath the prattle of a newscast, he could also hear a pair of human hearts.

Dominique hugged the shadows and waited for his would-be human assistants to creep their way to his side, which took enough time for ugly doubts to nip at him. It had been a week since he drank the fire-blood, and the effects were fading quickly. It would take more than physical strength to hold off Bijou, much less Kambyses. Their best chance lay in distraction and subterfuge.

“Be ready to move,” he told Jackson and Garrett, then blurred away into the next room. To the two men—both armed—catching up on the headlines, he appeared out of nowhere. Before they could do more than register surprise, he touched his voice with compulsion and said, “Your mistress requires your services outside. Now.”

As they hustled out the nearest door, something shattered back in the study. Dominique flashed back in time to see Garrett pull an antique dagger out of a display case he had crushed underfoot. Raising his new weapon, Garrett gave Dominique a narrow look as though calculating how best to use it on him.

Dominique signaled impatiently. “Allez. Go.”

The humans moved with as much speed and stealth as they could, which wasn’t much. The temptation to pick them up and carry them to Cassidy’s room made his fingers twitch. Their breathing and rushing blood roared in his sensitive ears, so he wasn’t surprised when he caught Bijou’s woody fragrance only a moment before he emerged into the foyer.

Make that an arena.

With its tall, black walls, elliptical shape, and dramatic sconce lighting, the entrance hall took on shades of the Roman Colosseum. There were even spectators. The two guards he sent scurrying moments ago hung over the second floor rail, their faces gleaming with blood lust. Stone Aphrodite and her pillar had been moved to the side. Taking her place in the spotlight at the arena’s center, clad in leather and gathering her chains, was the defending champion.

Bijou smiled with malevolence. “Your pitiful mortals were warned not to venture here again. Their lives are mine.”

“Chains? Against ‘pitiful mortals?’” Dominique replied in English for the benefit of said pitiful mortals behind him.

Bijou also switched to English. Her doll face distorted into something fierce and ugly. “Perhaps I suspect you will be foolish, young one.”

Dominique moved into the arena, aware of every infinitesimal movement she made with every heightened sense at his command. “Or perhaps you doubt yourself against me now.”

Unlike at their last encounter, he spotted the twitch in her small, white wrist an instant before the chain came flying his way. He ducked the moment it would have wrapped around his neck. Instead, it whistled past his head with millimeters to spare. The other chain hurtled over the floor, coming for his feet. Tucking into a tight ball, he launched over it sideways.

He hadn’t yet landed when the sharpened weight on the end of the first chain flew at his head. He twisted in mid-air, letting a scabbard take the brunt of the impact and then pushed off the floor, rolling in the opposite direction at lightning speed. The feint earned him a precious instant of clear access to his target. As he reared up and rushed forward, he pulled the short wakizashi sword from its sheath and brought it down in a flashing arc of lethal intent.

Shock registered on Bijou’s face. Her arm jerked, directing the chains. It didn’t matter. His blade was about to split her in two from head to groin.

Or it would have—if all the power didn’t suddenly drain out of his arm.

Shattering pain radiated through his shoulder, and the sword fell from his numb fingers as Bijou vanished.

The chains found him an instant later.

36

Winging It

“Aren’t you done trying to get us killed yet?” Garrett raged. “You hit the wrong bloodsucker!”

Jackson lowered the gun he clutched with both hands and watched, horrified, as the chains whistled around Nick like steel whips. Shooting the vamp bitch to give Nick an advantage had been an insane gamble, given the phenomenal speed of their combat. An insane gamble that would have paid off—if Nick had just stayed the fuck down. Now their only hope for getting out of this disaster alive was a bloody rag doll lashed near the top of a marble pillar. Fuck, fuck, fuck!