Page 19 of The Curse of Eternity (Descendants of Helsing #1)

Except, as our bodies molded against one another with natural ease, I couldn’t imagine a single thing wrong about this.

Before I could think too hard about the fact that we were in a public park, and that proverbial-but-possibly-literal swords hung over our heads, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

A groan rose up my throat when I was forced to pull away.

Heat prickled in all the best places, demanding satisfaction.

Unlike me, Drake wasn’t breathless when he released me, his touch slipping away.

Except his step backward staggered, his expression stunned while his eyes burned, craving something fierce.

Drake swallowed, his composure lost, and I suppressed a bud of pride while retrieving my phone.

Shit, why was Everly calling me now ? Brow furrowed, I answered it.

“Hey, Eve, not a great time—”

“Maria! Where are you? Are you okay?” Her panicked voice cut through me, leaving my insides full of ice where warmth had ignited moments before.

“I’m fine, what’s wrong?” Just as I spoke, Drake’s posture stiffened. His dark eyes narrowed, focused on a spot behind me while his fingers clenched into a fist.

“I’ve got a really, really bad feeling,” Everly continued, but my heart had already dropped, and I slowly turned to follow Drake’s gaze. “Wherever you are, you need to get out of there—”

“Too late.” Drake’s voice lowered so only I would hear. Because we weren’t alone anymore. I backed up a step, and Drake caught my shoulders before I could bump into him. Then he leaned close, his lips brushing my ear when he whispered, “Follow my lead.”

Without hesitation, I nodded, and lowered my phone only to let it drop to the ground.

Staring ahead, I stomped on the phone hard enough to crack it straight through.

Everly’s voice dissipated into the wind, but at least I wouldn’t worry about them going after her .

The man at the center between two vampires stepped forward.

While his buddies were dressed in simple suits, uniform and unremarkable except for their differences in height and hair color, the one who approached was clearly in charge.

It was obvious even before a grin split his beige face, the mirth never reaching his piercing green eyes.

Brown hair a shade lighter than mine curled beneath a mauve beret, the color matching the gentleman’s suit he wore, outdated and old-fashioned.

In the blink of an eye, Drake subtly stepped in front of me.

“Don’t let me interrupt your goodbyes,” the man-in-charge said. His British accent was a surprise, and I gulped when his sight centered on my face before dipping to glance over the machete at my hip. “Unless your strumpet can’t be charmed?”

Drake tensed, his attention flickering between the man and the two vampires flanking him.

Then I figured out why the stranger was so weird.

Because he was, in fact, a man . No trace of vampirism showed in his complexion, nor any sharpness to his canines when he grinned wide like this whole thing was a joke to him.

What power could he have over the two behind him?

“She has no part in this, and your orders do not include her, Ezra. Of that, I am certain.” Drake’s jaw flexed, his ruthless gaze unwavering on the well-dressed man before us.

Ezra sighed, twirling a finger like something invisible was swinging around it—when suddenly, there was.

A long golden chain looped around his forefinger.

I inhaled a quick gasp at its appearance, absent one second and there the next.

No —it shouldn’t be possible. For vampires to have reorganized after Dracula’s defeat was one thing, but to be using a sorcerer as their errand boy meant their political structure was in a whole new ballpark.

In a single hour, Pandora’s box had opened. We were all fucked.

“He has a point,” Ezra murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the steadfast vampires behind him. With a shrug, he waved his hand and the pocket watch in his grasp disappeared, fading to nothing. “Plus, we didn’t pack any food in the van, did you, boys?”

Neither vampire answered, and Ezra faced us again with a wave like ‘let’s get this over with.

’ Drake turned to me, his pointer finger suddenly crooked beneath my chin.

Our eyes met, and for an insane moment, I wished I could go with him.

Beyond Drake’s melancholy acceptance, I glimpsed Ezra’s shifty smile.

It prepared me a moment before the sorcerer muttered, “Go get her.”

Our hearing equally heightened, and Drake’s probably superior, we both whirled, our defensive stances set.

The enemy advanced in a blur, one for each of us.

Irony at working together with a vampire hit me as I blocked a strike with my forearm, preventing the shorter brown-haired undead guy from punching my head in.

Now several feet away, Drake and the taller blond one jabbed and dodged in quick succession, each landing hard blows but both owning dead nerves to prevent them from feeling the full effects of any impact. I couldn’t watch them, instead preoccupied by the kick my opponent aimed for my hip.

Pivoting out of reach, I withdrew my machete in one quick movement and slashed.

Instinct must have made the vampire back up in a flash, not nearly as ballsy as the one Drake took out the night before.

This one seemed wary of my blade, and I pressed with my advantage while I had it.

The best defense was a killer offense, so I swung in an arc, aiming not for the obvious point at the neck, but the backs of the vampire’s thighs while I hastily feinted to hop-step for the vampire’s flank.

My blade managed to cut through sinew, but not down to the bone.

That didn’t matter, my unexpected attack striking true meant the vampire wasn’t anticipating my tactics.

By the time he realized, he was slowed down by his shredded muscles.

The vampire staggered, reaching out with clawed fingers to grab my hair.

My teeth gritted when I retreated, and several hairs were pulled out by the root.

Scalp stinging, I heaved a harsh breath as a wet tearing sound and noisy crack pierced the night.

No scream followed, and when I dared to look, I found Drake standing over the body of his opponent.

The blond vampire’s head wasn’t just torn off—half of its shoulder went with it.

Dark blood coated Drake’s clothes, his expression blank when he threw the pieces connected to the head far away.

It landed in the shadows beyond a cluster of trees.

Nausea swam in my guts at the brutality of the unrepentant gore.

This was another level to anything I’d personally witnessed.

The kind where life stopped making sense for several heartbeats.

Then my gaze met Drake’s, and his horrified expression soon blurred as cold clammy fingers dug into my wrist. My grip slackened, knuckles spasming, and my machete fell while I bit down a shriek. Pain returned me to the moment, and I kicked at the vampire grabbing me.

Close as we were, my knee rammed into the enemy’s side hard enough to crack ribs.

If the vampire felt it, he didn’t show it.

My wrist was twisted unnaturally, forcing me to bend with it to keep it from breaking, and I went down on my knees.

The earth was hard beneath my jeans as my gaze lifted to the starry sky when the clouds parted.

For one short second, my death played out in my mind’s eye.

Then there was a snap, and my wrist was freed.

I slumped onto my side, scrambling away with my throbbing arm held close to my chest. Drake was on the vampire, whose arm dangled limp on one side.

My vampire kicked the other’s legs out from under him, already weakened from the work of my machete.

Our opponent went down, his white face neutral and unmoved while Drake grasped his neck in a blur. Then it all stopped. Between one of my heavy breaths and another, Drake collapsed to the ground—his eyes glazed over and unseeing, like a corpse.

“No!” I shouted, panicking when I found that my machete wasn’t within arm’s reach.

My whole body trembled while soft footfalls neared, and my back stiffened.

The sorcerer strode to where his lackey was struggling to pick himself up off the ground, but didn’t offer an ounce of help.

Instead, Ezra went to where my machete laid, near hidden in the unruly high grass.

Chilled sweat ran down the side of my cheek when he approached, forcing me to stare up into his smug face from where I knelt on the ground. Gloved hands held my machete, and his pitying stare was almost mocking.

“I’m intrigued,” he admitted, relaxed as anything while I shivered from spent adrenaline.

“You’re human,” I spat, hoping I was wrong. When Ezra only raised his eyebrows, violent rage filled me with acid. “You’re a traitor to your own people. Working for them ? What the hell is wrong with you!”

“Obviously, you know what Ignatius Drake is, and you fought side by side,” he pointed out, and my jaw snapped shut. “Perhaps we are not so different, you and I.” A smirk played at the corner of his mouth.

“I am nothing like you,” I hissed, resolute. Ezra’s lips twitched, downturned for the briefest moment. His composure returned as he turned his back on me, walking tall toward the road where he came from.

“Restrain her, we’re taking her with us.”

Before I could scream for help, or try to run, pain sliced through my whole being.

It was so instantaneous, and foul, leaving my mouth sizzling with electricity that prevented me from screeching through the agony.

Every muscle went slack. My bones vibrated like they were trying to jump out of my skin.

When cold hands lifted me from the ground, and the vampire carried me away, his limp sent flashes of renewed torture from my fingers to my temples and down to my toes.

White hot, invisible nails seemed to be gouging me from every direction.

Through the insanity of the psychic pain, sporadic moments of clarity repeated one thought.

I was in deep shit.