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“Hell no.”

He played with his drink can and considered the question that had weighed on him since he first heard about his uncle’s intentions. “What are you going to do if he asks me to put you down?”

Garrett gave him a narrow look. “That’s not the question, now, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“The question really is: what areyougoing to dowhenWarren asks you to put me down?”

Son of a bitch. Leave it to Garrett to get right to the point. His actual father or the man who had acted as his father? Which would he choose? His hand clenched around the can until it crinkled.

“Doesn’t matter, kid,” Garrett declared and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “You couldn’t, even if you tried. I taught you everything you know about hunting, and I intend to be any hunter’s worst nightmare.”

“I’m sure you—” Jackson looked around. The quiet figure in the black leathers was gone. “Where did he go?”

“Probably puking his guts out in the woods.” Garrett put his napkin down and checked his watch. “Sunset.”

“Shit. I wish I didn’t have to give him that shot today.”

“They’d all be dead if you hadn’t, and my plans would have changed to picking out a plot at the cemetery. They have a chance now. As do I, I might add.”

An agonized and decidedly inhuman scream issued from the motor home, bringing all activity to an abrupt halt. Someone turned off the music. “What was that?”

“Oh God,” Jackson said. “Lyle.”

He tore open the door and burst into the RV. Carly’s bag gaped open on teenage-girl-clothing awash in gray ash. Kneeling over it, face distorted in a mask of agony and ash-covered hands raised in fists, was the forever-teenage boy.

Seeing Jackson, Lyle’s eyes snapped to deep, black pits glowing with hellfire in a face gone skull thin. His guttural snarl was not even close to human. “What did she ever do to you?”

The entire forest seemed to fall silent, every mortal thing alert for the predator that had its sights set on Jackson. Not a muscle in his body responded. He stood nailed to the spot, catapulted back in time to his brother facing just such a creature. He could already see the blood-spattered aftermath, the torn limbs, the smashed skull…

Death flew at him. And he couldn’t move.

Then death was snatched out of the air and hurtled into the shadowy interior. Kostya’s enormous arms circled the enraged vampire from behind. Isao grabbed the pointy jaw. “This is not his doing.”

“They were supposed to watch over us, and Carly is dead,” Lyle howled. “My sister—my family—isdead!”

“I’m sorry,” Jackson said, clutching at both sides of the door because he didn’t quite trust his knocking knees. “I’m so sorry.”

“Move,” Dominique whispered behind him and Jackson, startled, jerked aside, letting him pass.

The Lord of Night grabbed Lyle’s head in both hands and spoke low and fast in words as soothing as they were commanding. It took a minute, maybe two, but slowly Lyle’s face filled out again, and his eyes lost their dark fire.

“Adilla and Esteban will pay for what they have done to you and your sister, to all of us,” Dominique promised. “Tonight, they will pay.”

Lyle gave a tiny nod and Dominique patted his cheek before releasing him. “Time to go.”

The vampires stepped out of the camper. When he passed Jackson, Lyle ducked his tear-stained face, the mop of yellow hair falling over his eyes. “Sorry.”

“I understand,” was all Jackson could manage. When everyone but Dominique was out, he slipped up the steps and found the Lord of Night slinging his swords across his back. “What’s the plan?”

“Stay out of our way,” Dominique said as he tied his hair back with swift movements.

“I know that cave now. I know the setup. I have your blood.” Not to mention enough caffeine to fuel a small jet. “I’m an asset.”

“You are mortal.”

“What?”