Page 53 of Fated In Blood (Nocturne Vampire Clan #1)

53

EVANGELINE

“ G o,” Riordan snapped at Blake. “Take her with you. I’ll head them off.” His face was a mask of fury when he turned and roared. “ Now .”

Blake yanked me against him and we were flying in a whirl of black shadows, cold lashing my arms and legs, tearing my braid free. By the time we landed on a cold, stone floor, I was dizzy and frozen and my hair was in my face.

Not a good start.

“We’re in the rear of the building, near the kitchens.” Blake didn’t waste a second, laying out the pertinent details as he stripped off his stained dinner jacket and tie, rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. I pulled out my extra knife and offered him the hilt.

He took it, darkness curling around him like a second skin.

“Rohr will concentrate on picking off the guards along with Collum. Then he’ll go after Malachi.” He took the knife with a nod. “That leaves Bosch for us, along with whatever guards he brings with him.”

“How do you plan to draw him down here?”

Blake’s slow, evil smile sent a shiver down my spine.

This was new—us being on the same side—fighting against a common enemy instead of each other. I was liking the change.

“Stay here. If I know Bosch, he’s hiding behind about eight guards and sticking to the areas they’ve already secured.” He pointed to the ceiling. “The bastard should be right about there. Count to thirty and he’ll come down those stairs, running for his fucking life.” He winked, and everything fell away except the fight ahead of us. “Be ready, little slayer.”

Then Blake was gone, leaving me down in this room filled with what looked like…a horror movie. Fear clogged my throat so thoroughly I couldn’t scream. We’d landed in the morgue, where piles of mangled bodies were tossed upon rolling metal tables, pools of blood dried on the floor.

Fucking hell.

Or this could be a slaughterhouse, given the long, curved blades—too long to even be called knives—hanging on the far wall in perfect order.

I sheathed my knife, walked over, and pulled down one of the blades. “Well, somebody loves their fucking job,” I muttered, inspecting the edge. The wicked weapon was razor sharp and wickedly curved…I hefted the deadly thing in my palm.

Perfectly balanced.

Muffled shouting echoed faintly down the stairwell; a hard thud from right above me shook the lights in their fixtures. I moved back to the bottom of the steps, put my back against the wall, and waited. There was nothing but silence and then… there .

Racing footsteps thundered closer and closer as Bosch took the steps two at a time.

He flew past me, so focused on escaping the carnage upstairs he wasn’t paying a bit of attention when I angled the blade perfectly upward to sever his right arm below the shoulder. I stepped out in a circle, keeping my shoulders even and my eyes on Bosch, who was clutching his stump with blood-soaked fingers.

“You…bitch.”

Two steps.

Two steps and I swung that blade with every ounce of strength I had.

Straight into the front of Bosch’s throat. Blood misted the air as the blade passed cleanly through, so little resistance I wasn’t even sure my blow had struck true until his body hit the floor, his head bouncing off into the shadows.

I hadn’t drawn my first shaky breath when Blake rematerialized, eyes widening when he took in the scene. “He’s been down here less than ten seconds. That has to be some kind of record.”

“You told me to be ready.” I waved the curved death sword in his face. “I was ready.”

“Holy shit.” Blake blanched when he took a good look around. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was where we landed.” He pointed to the tables. “Drop that fucking knife, Evie. We have to get the fuck out of?—”

“Blake Marten.”

The tall vampire who strolled out of the shadows and casually stepped over the widening pool of Bosch’s blood might have issued straight from my nightmares.

His hairless body had never seen the sun, his skin more deathly gray than white, his face bisected by so many scars, the blackened, sewn-together edges created a patchwork effect. He had no nose, no eyebrows, and one ear was barely a stub of flesh. He was lean and strong, moving with that same gliding smoothness as Laurent Tyrell.

But the eyes that stared out of that hideous face were pale as the belly of a fish, his pupils the tiniest pinpricks, a faint silvery glow highlighting his sunken cheekbones.

“It has been a long time since you’ve visited me.” Those hungry eyes turned on me, and my breath went away. “And you brought a little friend.” He tilted his head as he scented the air. “She’s quite new.”

Run, Evie. Blake’s voice quaked with pure fear. There’s a door right behind you. When you reach the end of the hall, turn right. I’ll buy you time to get a head start. Don’t stop until you reach Crimson House, then get out of town.

“Fuck off, Valaine,” Blake growled. “I see you haven’t gotten any prettier.”

My fingers tightened around the handle of my weapon, horror prickling through me. This was the vampire Tyrell had threatened to give me to, and he was every inch the monster they’d described.

There was no warning, not even a thought inside my head before Blake launched himself at Valaine. The pale creature moved impossibly fast, dodging to the left, going for that row of weapons.

One strike from those blades and Blake would be dead.

I threw my own weapon as Valaine’s fingers brushed across the handles, Blake still a good five feet away. That curved blade tumbled over and over through the air, landing an inch short of impaling Valaine’s head like I’d intended.

But he pulled up short, giving Blake the opening to snag him out of midair and slam him to the ground.

Inhuman snarls rent the air and clawed hands shredded and tore, moving faster than I could see, blood splattering across one of the metal tables.

Shadows snarled in the air, the strong scent of ozone turned choking as Blake’s magic grew and grew, filling the entire room.

I’d seen Blake fight before, but this was different. Blake was fighting to kill, and he didn’t care if taking Valaine out meant sacrificing himself.

Get the fuck out of here, Evie. Now.

Like hell I’m leaving you…

Fuck that . One second I was heading for Blake, knife in hand, ready to sever Valaine’s spine.

The next, a wave of frozen cold snagged me out of nowhere, ripping both me and my scream of fury through the air, dragging me away from Blake like a sack of fucking potatoes.

We hadn’t even fully materialized and I’d plunged my knife into Malachi’s shoulder with a roar of frustration, hand still wrapped around the hilt as he glared down at me, eyes filled with frustration instead of pain.

“Take me back. Right the fuck now.”

“I should have known you’d be eternally ungrateful for me saving your misguided soul, Vicious.”

“You fucking asshole. You left Blake alone fighting that monster.”

Malachi waved his hand in the air, then yanked the knife from his shoulder with an annoyed grimace. “Marten can handle himself. It’s you who’s in trouble, Evangeline.”

“Oh, fuck off. Is this where you call in your favor? I already told you; I don’t owe you shit, loser.”

He inspected the blade, a droplet of red blood dripping down the edge, and my fucking mouth watered. He was already healed, the bastard, but I didn’t have time for his shit. I had to get back to Blake.

“You don’t want to push me any further than you already have. In case you haven’t noticed, your situation is dire. But I”— the bastard had the balls to bow to me—“am here to save the day.”

“I see why Blake and Riordan despise you. Now take me back where you got me.”

“Dinner was far more interesting than I’d expected. I was quite surprised to see you’re immune to Laurent’s power.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I should have expected this, knowing what little I did about Malachi. A master manipulator never missed an opportunity to exploit others for his own gain, and this…

I didn’t know what he wanted, but maybe Tyrell not being able to control me was a far bigger deal than I’d imagined.

“He tried to compel you, he failed. He got a knife to the throat, which, I must admit, is worse than a knife to the shoulder. You are quite stabby for a newborn.”

“You were seeing things. Probably should get yourself some glasses, old man.”

“I have a proposition for you. Since Riordan and Blake don’t have a chance in hell of getting close enough to Tyrell to kill him, that leaves you and me. Unfortunately, we’re a bit crunched for time as Lord Tyrell has sent his entire army after you. What do you think are the chances you and I can get to Tyrell before he kills your lovers?”

“ My chances are pretty damn good.”

“Unlike your lovers, I can move freely in and out of the castle. I can get to Crimson House and procure the dagger. I can also put you in the same room as Tyrell, and it appears he can’t compel you.” His grin was the epitome of slimy. “Those are pretty good odds, if I do say so.”

“The odds are far better you’ll sell us out, steal the dagger for yourself, and we’ll end up dead. Thanks, but no thanks.” I snorted. “Besides, the dagger won’t kill him. You heard him—he’s immune to silver.”

“The dagger will kill Tyrell.” Malachi’s grin vanished. “He’s not as immune as he thinks, and everyone has their Achilles heel.”

I didn’t even know where we were, but my adrenaline spiked as shouts echoed from somewhere far away. I had to get back to Blake. Or find Riordan and we’d both go help Blake. We’d had a plan, and this asshole was fucking everything up.

Malachi pinched his lips together. “This is one of those situations where you have to take a leap of faith, even when your instincts are telling you one thing and your logic another.”

“Trust me, my instincts and my logic are telling me the same thing. You’re a lying sack of shit, and anyone who trusts you will end up dead.”

The next second, he was right in front of me, one big hand banded around my throat, my back pressed to a wall. “ Where is the dagger , Evangeline? Tell me so I can retrieve it. We have minutes, at most, and you are wasting time. You are going to cost Riordan and Blake their lives because you cannot fucking trust anyone .”

“I don’t know,” I lied, trying to sound nonchalant while pinned down like a bug. “And even if I did, I’d never tell you.”

“Then you are all going to die.” He sounded genuinely remorseful when he released me and stepped back, straightening his crushed-velvet dinner jacket. “And there is nothing I can do about it.”

“You’re right. I don’t trust you.” I spread my hands. “Take me back to Blake. Please. Let me at least help him fight Valaine.”

For a moment I thought he’d comply, then his face shifted, from pity to shrewdness. “Since trust is the issue, perhaps I should follow Tyrell’s lead and give you a demonstration. As the humans like to say, seeing is believing.”

I shrank back against the wall, wishing I could dematerialize at will. “I don’t think I want to be part of your demonstration.”

“Just remember, I did try to reason with you, Vicious.”

Then we were flying again, cold stealing the air from my lungs.