Blood Vengeance (Blood Curse Series Book 7) (16 page)

fourteen

Brooke Mondragon tightened her grip on the steering wheel of her dark sapphire metallic Jaguar XJ and watched the odd scenario unfold through her dim, tinted windows.

Ramsey and Tiffany had arrived at the park and chatted a bit at his truck. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but giggle as Tiffany seemed to be giving the fearsome warrior the
what for
, and he seemed to be, amazingly, taking it in stride.

Well, as much as Ramsey Olaru could take anything in stride.

And then the unhappy human couple had pulled up, and Tiffany had rushed to the playground, secured Phoenix in a swing, and given him a gentle push—
aw, it was so sweet to watch
—before placing her body squarely between the baby and the strange woman, who had summarily approached them. Brooke had no doubt, whatsoever, that human or not, Tiffany would tear out the throat of anyone who ever tried to hurt little Phoenix. So that’s not what had given her pause…

What had seized her attention was what had happened next.

The boyfriend had immediately driven away, a scenario Ramsey had anticipated—at least it was one of the scenarios Tiff and Ramsey had mentioned earlier—but Ramsey had not immediately followed. Rather, he had sat there in his SUV, watching the
woman
like a hawk, his intense hazel eyes deepening with interest.

And
concern.

Brooke had sat up rigidly then, her back arched, her muscles taut. She had leaned over the steering wheel and braced her hands on the dash, focusing one hundred percent of her keen vampiric vision on the slender human female in order to take in every subtle nuance of the lady’s behavior. The woman had spoken softly with Tiffany, or vice versa, and then she had given her an awkward hug. And for all intents and purposes, she appeared to be exactly as Tiffany had described: a somewhat distracted person with an unusually anxious demeanor, who was desperate to get away from her boyfriend and probably just a little bit neurotic. She was obviously rattled. She was clearly afraid. And her posture was both appreciative and nonthreatening.

But there was something inexplicable in her eyes.

Something just
not-quite-right
and certainly unusual.

Her pupils were haunted with shadows, but not the kind cast by nightmares, not the reflections of terrible memories or recollections of being battered. They were haunted by unseen demons.

And the demons were
her
own
.

Brooke knew that it didn’t make sense, that this ad hoc,
psychic tea-leaf
assessment, this sudden rush to judgment, was not in any way supported by the poor woman’s actions, but just the same, Brooke felt it in her bones.

And apparently, so did Ramsey Olaru.

It was not until Tiffany finally waved him away, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs-up and a not-so-subtle signal to
get going
, that the seasoned Master Warrior had driven off, but even then, he had seemed hesitant to do so.

Now, as Brooke watched the two women standing beneath the swings, talking in hushed, amiable whispers, she hoped Ramsey would hurry back.

She rolled down her window, just a bit, in order to listen in on their conversation. Although she was several blocks away, she could still see and hear everything as acutely as if she were standing right there. Score one for the Vampyr.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side: Tiffany was telling the woman,
telling Tawni
, that Tiffany’s boyfriend, Ramsey, was going to follow
Saul
from a safe distance, make sure he didn’t do a U-turn and head back that way, before they whisked Tawni out of there—they didn’t want to take a chance that this Saul guy could find her.

Hmm
, Brooke thought,
Tiffany’s boyfriend, Ramsey.

Interesting.

Now Tawni was asking Tiffany if Ramsey could protect himself.

Brooke laughed and opened her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tiffany said. “I promise you: He can hold his own, and you will never see Saul again.”

All of a sudden, the woman drew back in alarm, asking if Ramsey was crazy enough to confront Saul, and Tiffany laughed. “No,” she reassured her in that feisty, clipped way that she had. “He’s just going to watch him from a distance, follow a little ways, and then he’ll be right back.”

“But what if Saul sees him?” Tawni asked.

“He won’t,” Tiffany said.

“But what if he does?”

Tiffany sighed. “Don’t worry,” she insisted, “one way or the other, it’ll all be fine. Trust me, Ramsey can take care of himself, and he can be very persuasive when he has to be.”

“Mmm,” the woman said. “But then so can my boyfriend. Very,
very
persuasive.”

Brooke narrowed her eyes and blinked several times in confusion.
Now that was strange.
Was the nutcase defending him now? And after everything he had done to her?

Tiffany seemed momentarily caught off guard by the odd reaction as well as the protective statement. She took a deep breath, as if preparing to respond, and then she abruptly stopped short and took a reflexive step backward.

Brooke leaned forward.

What the hay?

Tiffany was staring dazedly at Tawni’s eyes, and she looked like she had just seen a ghost.

Brooke shifted her bottom in the seat, absently scooting back and forth, as if she could get a better purchase, and consequently, a better look. Tawni’s eyes were noticeably bloodshot and incredibly intense—she probably hadn’t slept well in weeks—but they didn’t seem all that interesting, unless one considered…

Holy
shit!

Her eyes weren’t bloodshot.

They were blood
red.

As crimson as the petals of a dark velvet rose, and their origin was all too familiar.

Vampyr?

Tiffany backpedaled a few steps further, unconsciously shielding Prince Phoenix with her body, and her gaze dropped lower, dipping from Tawni’s eyes to her mouth.

Brooke’s gaze instinctively followed, and that was all she
wrote.

The woman’s lips were curled back into a wicked snarl, the reedy flesh twisted into a thin line just above the tops of her teeth, and her gums practically twitched with anticipation as her canines grew sharp, long, and
deadly
… as they extended into fangs.

For a moment, Brooke could only sit there and stare, stunned into inaction, all the while wondering:
What the heck is
this
?

After all, it simply wasn’t possible.

There were no female vampires in Dark Moon Vale, none but the
destinies
who had been chosen for the males in the house of Jadon, those converted by their mates, and this sure as hell was no female
destiny
she had ever heard of.

It only took a moment for her body to catch up with her mind, for her concern to override her confusion, for her heart to synthesize the information.

Who the hell cared what, why, or
how?

The woman was turning feral right before Brooke’s eyes, and she was only moments away from lunging, from sinking her teeth into—

Oh, dear goddess, Andromeda!

The woman had her sights set on
Phoenix.

In her haste to get out of the car, Brooke wrenched the handle right off the door. When she could no longer get it to open, she flung her shoulder into the panel, shoved with all her might, and fell from the Jaguar, sending the driver’s-side door spiraling into the night.

She sprang to her feet and sprinted toward the playground, willing her muscles to move faster, ordering her body to take flight as it had never done before.

“Tiffany!
Tiffany!
Look out!
Get the
baby
!”

*

Ramsey Olaru pulled onto the main county road, about five or six blocks beyond the park, watching for the dark gray sedan. In the absence of a visual cue to lead him, he had his window cracked open, and he was concentrating on the distinctive purr, that deep, rumbling drone made only by a BMW’s engine.

Sure enough, the familiar hum was about five hundred yards in front of him.

He stepped on the gas and sent a powerful mind-command to the driver, even as he approached the shiny bumper.
Pull the hell over. Now.

The dark gray sedan slowed down, and the driver pulled over to the side of the road.

Ramsey brought the Escalade to a complete stop, right behind the BMW, and then instantly teleported his body from one vehicle to the next.

He was just about to snatch the despicable human by the neck, pull him into the backseat, and get the whole sordid business over with, when the driver instantly vanished before his eyes.

What the
hell?

He hadn’t even gotten a good look at the guy.

Although what he had seen, if only a momentary profile, was more than a bit unsettling: long dark hair that fell from a widow’s peak, masking deep sapphire eyes beneath thin, arched brows, and the hair appeared to be dyed partially red.

The hairs stood up on the back of Ramsey’s neck, even as his senses quickened.

The sedan was filled with the faint scent of sulfur, the telltale signature of a sorcerer, and the air practically hummed with preternatural power. Not to mention, the vibrations were way,
way
off.

Errant.

Supernatural.

Evil.

Before his mind could even register the data, he heard a faint, terrified cry from a distance—it was coming from a female, and it had to be close to the park. “Tiffany!
Tiffany!
Look out!
Get the
baby
!”

Son of a bitch!

That was Brooke Mondragon’s voice, and the
baby
was none other than Phoenix Mondragon, the prince of the house of Jadon!

Ramsey was just about to will his molecules to dissolve, to hurl his body in the direction of the park, when he suddenly thought better of it: He scrambled to the back of the Escalade, punched through the glass, and withdrew three weapons: a sheathed dagger, which he tucked inside his belt; his familiar trident, which he melded to his hand; and his AK47. And then he took to the skies like a vampire of old, his rich, flaxen wings punching through his back as he spiraled toward Tall Pines Village Park, and his mind at last made the final connections.

Sweet goddess of
mercy.

He knew that profile intimately, and he also knew that smell.

The miserable
boyfriend
wasn’t human at all. He was a Dark One.

And by all that was unholy, the bastard probably had a name.

Salvatore
Nistor.

fifteen

Tiffany Matthews heard Brooke scream, but there was nothing she could do. Tawni was transforming before her very eyes, turning into something savage and terrifying, something utterly unthinkable.

Impossible.

And she was just about ready to lunge at Phoenix Mondragon.

Tiffany took several quick steps to the left, placing her body more squarely between Tawni and the child, even as her mind raced frantically, spinning in hysterical circles, searching for a viable solution:

What the hell what she going to do now?

What the hell was
happening?

Whatever Tawni had become—whatever she intended to do—Tiffany was only human.

And Ramsey?

Holy Virgin Mary…

What a fool Tiffany had been. The warrior had driven away from the park, following the so-called boyfriend at Tiffany’s request.

She sucked in a deep breath of air, focused her attention on the matter at hand, and summoned every last ounce of her courage. “Hey!” she shouted, trying to rattle Tawni’s bones with the sheer velocity of her voice. She waved both hands wildly in front of the crazy woman’s face, hoping to draw her attention away from the child in the swing.
From Phoenix
. “What the hell are you doing?”

Tawni whipped her head to the side in an eerie serpentine motion and snarled. She hunched her shoulders in an unnatural arc, and her breath came out with a hiss. “I’m simply following my master’s orders”—she paused long enough to smile—“now move away from the prince!” She drew her right arm over her left shoulder, preparing to strike, and Tiffany instinctively threw up an elbow to block the blow.

It was an utterly useless maneuver.

The powerful backhand landed halfway between Tiffany’s elbow and her shoulder, instantly launching her off her feet and sending her spiraling through the air, soaring across the playground, and heading straight for a huge wooden fort.

Tiffany was just about to slam, spine first, into the main post when Brooke appeared out of nowhere. The queen leapt into the air, caught Tiffany around the waist, and then spun them both around in a nimble display of prowess, setting her evenly back on the ground. “
Run
,” Brooke snarled. She didn’t wait for an answer. She released her hold on Tiffany, dropped into a crouch, and then launched herself at Tawni from nearly twenty yards away.

Tawni dove at Phoenix.

Brooke dove at Tawni.

And in a clash of flesh, bone, and willpower, the two enraged women hit the ground with a thud and began to tussle like a pair of wildcats, each vying for supremacy, each seeking the other’s throat.

Tiffany gasped as Tawni sank her wicked fangs into Brooke’s forearm, yet Brooke ignored the pain. She fisted a handful of Tawni’s hair, wrenched the woman’s head forward, and then slowly, deliberately, sank her own deadly canines deep into Tawni’s throat. Brooke snarled and bit down harder, whipping her head from side to side like a crazed dog worrying a bone, trying to break Tawni’s neck.

Tiffany gawked for a few heartbeats longer, unable to tear her gaze from the terrible sight, and then she took her best friend’s warning to heart and took off like a bat out of hell.

There was simply no point in sticking around to watch.

She would only get in the way.

And if she became a liability to Brooke, she would further endanger the prince. Besides, Ramsey had told her in no uncertain terms to make her way back to the spot where he had parked the Escalade if anything went down. Surely, the Master Warrior could not be that far away. Surely, he would hear the feral snarls, savage bites, and life-and-death struggle ensuing in the park, and he would come running.

Tiffany glanced over her shoulder, even as she continued to make tracks toward the small, circular parking lot. The battle behind her was as vicious as it was shocking. The women were trading blows, bites, and lunges. Brooke’s arm was torn open and bleeding, the flesh hanging loosely from the bone, and Tawni’s throat looked like someone had run it through a meat grinder.

In the blink of an eye—if only for
one
opportune moment—Brooke gained an advantage: She kicked Tawni in the chest, knocking the wind out of her sails, and then she sprang to her feet, rushed to the swing-set, and unfastened her son. In a series of movements that could only be described as a transient blur, she lifted Phoenix out of the harness, turned to face Tiffany, and promptly launched the child into the air, tossing him across the park in an effort to get him out of imminent danger.

In her haste, her aim was way off target.

At best, the child would land fifty feet to the right of Tiffany.

Prince Phoenix squealed at the top of his lungs, his little arms and legs flailing wildly in the air, as if he were desperate for someone to catch him, something that was
not
going to happen. His eyes grew wide as saucers, and his little throat convulsed with screams as he flew like a missile toward a hard, barren patch of grass.

Tiffany turned to run in his direction, all the while praying for divine intervention, and then just like that, something primordial must have kicked in, because his thick down jacket exploded into a dozen spiraling pieces of cloth, and the most perfect pair of obsidian wings shot through his back and began to flutter wildly in the air.

Phoenix floated gently to the ground, where he curled into a ball and began to sob.

“Oh, baby,” Tiffany whispered, desperate to get to him quickly. “It’s okay, sweetie. Auntie Tiff is coming.”

“Get behind me, and get down!” A deep, commanding voice brought her up short, and Tiffany whirled around to see Ramsey standing right in front of her. He was clutching that gruesome pitchfork in his left hand and some perilous-looking machine gun in his right, and his eyes were literally ablaze with fury.

“But, Phoenix,” she tried to argue. “He’s—”

“Get behind me,
now
!”

Tiffany scrambled behind him and dropped to the ground just in time to see a
Dark One
appear before him.

“Greetings, son of Jadon,” the wicked vampire snarled. “It did take you quite a while to figure this whole little scenario out.” He bowed infinitesimally and gestured toward the swing-set, where Brooke and Tawni were still going at it, both women now balanced on their feet, knees bent and arms locked around each other’s wrists, both trying to gain an advantage, waiting for an opportunity to let go of a wrist and strike. “Mmm, I trust you’ve met my bride?”

The left side of Ramsey’s lip twitched rapidly, several times in a row, as if someone were yanking a string attached to his flesh, and then his smooth, ivory canines descended from his gums like two brandished daggers, long, lethal, and menacing.

Tiffany shivered and scooted even further back as a deep, feral purr rumbled in his throat, and then he abruptly angled his body toward the swing-set, leveled the gun in the females’ direction, and shouted an implacable command to his queen: “Brooke, let go and drop down!”

The compulsion must have done its job because Brooke didn’t
hesitate.

She released Tawni’s arms, fell to the ground, and covered her head, even as Ramsey began to unload the clip into Tawni’s fully exposed torso.

Tiffany screamed.

Salvatore lunged at Ramsey.

And Ramsey dropped his pitchfork, caught the Dark One by the throat, and continued to spray what were obviously diamond-tipped bullets into Tawni’s chest and head. His body hit the ground, and he fought to keep the automatic weapon steady.

“
Oh God, oh God, oh God
!” Tiffany panted, scrambling backward to put more space between her and the vampires. “Please don’t let him hit Brooke. Please… please…
please
.” She watched in utter horror as Tawni’s body jerked this way and that, convulsing in the air like a jackhammer torn free of its handler, and the bullets struck home, again and again… and
again.

After several terrifying moments, the park grew silent.

The clip was empty, and Tawni’s bloody carcass slumped to the ground.

Brooke stood back up and headed straight for Phoenix, even as Ramsey turned his full attention on Salvatore. The dark vampire was chewing his way through Ramsey’s extended arm, frothing at the mouth and spitting like some kind of rabid dog.

Ramsey dropped the machine gun, drew back his good arm, and punched the Dark One, dead between the eyes, sending him spiraling backward from the force of the blow. The incensed sentinel then rolled across the grass, grabbed his pitchfork in mid-turn, and sprang to his feet, his mangled left arm hanging limply at his side.

He tossed the pitchfork with a flick of his wrist, twirled it around like a baton, and rotated it into the center of his hand. And then he stalked toward the Dark One with a murderous rage in his eyes, his body moving more like a machine than a vessel of flesh and blood.

His muscles twitched.

His chest heaved with determination.

And his knuckles turned white from his murderous grasp on the weapon.

And then everything happened at
once.

The north end of the park virtually filled with Master Warriors, vampires from the house of Jadon, materializing like Vikings from a prehistoric sea previously masked by fog: Napolean, Santos, and Saxson; Julien, Saber, and the Silivasi brothers; even Kagen and his new mate, Arielle, drove up in their jeep, appearing on the fringes, ready to treat whoever was injured.

Clearly, Ramsey must have called for the Calvary.

Tiffany was just about to get up, head for the safety of the warriors—
check on Brooke and Phoenix
—and leave the Dark One, who was clearly doomed, to Ramsey and his capable band of brothers, when Tawni Duvall stirred.

In fact, she didn’t so much stir as
rise
, like a ghostly apparition from a grave.

A brittle leaf, left over from autumn, crunched beneath Tiffany’s hand, and then the unthinkable occurred: Tawni ascended to her feet, dropped low into a squat, and vaulted the full distance of the park at Tiffany, her clawed hands extended in front of her, her sharp fangs protruding from her mouth.

Tiffany gasped at the terrifying sight, and she even tried to scream, but the sound got caught in her throat. She thought she saw Ramsey pause to glance over his shoulder, but there wasn’t any time.

What seemed like minutes actually happened in a fraction of a second. It simply transpired in the blink of an eye. Tawni landed in front of Tiffany, dropped into a squat, and gently grasped her by both of her trembling cheeks, the pads of her inhuman fingers massaging Tiffany’s jaw.

It was almost like a lover’s embrace.

Tawni cocked her head to the side and smiled, and then she swiftly flicked her wrists, rotating each to the left in perfect unison.

There was a pregnant pause before the snap, the sharp, crackling
pop
, as Tiffany tried to speak. She wanted to say to someone,
Hey, I think she’s about to break my neck
, but the words never came out.

The thought never reached completion.

The pain was horrendous, yet so short-lived, Tiffany never had a chance to register its intensity.

It was simply and indelibly over.

Her pain, and her fear, and her
life
.

The world and everyone in it disappeared.