Taken by the Others (31 page)

I was abruptly stumbling forward, shoved into Peter’s arms. I didn’t bother fighting since I knew Max had the speed and strength to catch me even if I got away from Peter. Instead, I went limp, figuring if I played it up like I was defeated for the time being, it might make them more careless of me later.

“How long ago did Alec leave the police station?”

I stiffened. That news concerned me intimately. John answered, glancing down at the watch on his wrist.

“I got a call twenty minutes ago. He should arrive within the next half hour or so.”

“Excellent. Everyone is in place?”

“Yes. I’ll lead him down here when he arrives.”

Max nodded, a grim smile on his lips. I didn’t like that look at all. Especially when he moved to the table and ran his fingers along the same sword he’d used against Mouse, still coated with her blood. I hadn’t noticed it until then, mostly because I was more interested in glaring daggers at John and Peter than paying attention to the details about the room.

I made it a point to examine the place now. The basement ran the length of the house and was nothing but wide open space, with a little furniture and some boxes scattered here and there. The floor was plain cement, giving it a cold, damp feel. There were a couple of paint cans and a tool box on a low shelf, some gardening tools off in a corner, and a washer and dryer tucked away in a niche under the stairs. The walls were a featureless, whitewashed expanse, save for the doors set at each point of the compass in the four walls. I imagined they must lead to the tunnel systems Royce used to make his way around the city to his businesses.

All in all, it looked like a good, empty space for the elders to duke it out. I wondered where the rest of Max’s men were hiding, because I had no doubt he was willing to play dirty and would use them to overrun the place as soon as he had Royce trapped down here.

I prayed it wouldn’t be much longer. I wasn’t sure my nerves would survive the next half hour alone with these people.

Chapter 31

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Royce still hadn’t showed up. Max was glaring daggers at John. Made me wonder if any revenge I later visited on Royce’s turncoat flunky would be moot.

To keep from worrying about Max turning his attentions on me, I stayed still and quiet, pretending like I was on a really weird surveillance job. Stay still, stay quiet, don’t let the mark know you’re watching and listening. Entertaining thoughts of pounding whatever was left of John into the dust helped pass the time.

“Why would he not be answering his phone?”

John shrugged uncomfortably, not meeting Max’s eyes. “He could be caught in traffic. Or in a no-service zone.”

Max growled something under his breath. I had the sinking feeling he thought he’d been had. There was no telling what he would do to any of us (meaning me) if he thought someone had tipped him off to his rival.

“John? Where is everyone?” Royce called from somewhere upstairs.

I didn’t realize how tense I’d been until I heard his voice. As much as I wanted to relax and let relief wash over me, I couldn’t give him away. His puzzlement sounded natural, a better act than I’d ever been able to put on.

One of Peter’s hands slapped over my mouth before I could call out a warning, his arm tightening around my waist as he pulled me back to the far side of the room. He hadn’t pinned my arms, so I might be able to go for a weapon once the fight started. I doubted he thought of me as much of a threat. Understandable, considering the only other times he’d seen me, I hadn’t had the hunter’s belt on. I had put up a pretty pathetic fight in those handcuffs.

The other vamps, save for John and Max, came with us, moving with that eerie silence I attributed to nothing other than the undead.

“Downstairs, Alec!” John called, the vampires beside us leaning forward, readying their weapons.

Max picked up the sword and silently drifted behind the stairs to lie in wait. I squirmed in Peter’s grip, not too hard yet, just enough to be believable. When the time came, I planned on reaching for one of my guns. If I could, I would pull Peter’s hand off my mouth in time to warn Royce. That is, if he needed it. After the text message I sent him, he was no doubt wary of an ambush.

Royce didn’t come all the way down the stairs, leaning over the rail to peer at John. If he looked the other way, he would spot me and the other vamps. Peter’s grip tightened painfully, a warning to be still.

Royce would have to come all the way down to see Max. By then it would be too late. I struggled in earnest and felt Peter hiss an almost silent breath of warning in my ear.

“Where is everybody? What are you doing down here?”

John gestured at one of the boxes behind him so nonchalantly, I might have believed his act had I not been here to see all his plotting earlier. “I was looking for the Talisman of Artemis. Since you’re on the hunt, I thought it might be of use. Could you come down here and help me find it?”

I couldn’t see his face, but the amusement in Royce’s voice was clearly evident. “You know I returned the Talisman to Athena. You always were a bad liar, John.”

That’s when all hell broke loose.

I didn’t see him move from the stairs, but suddenly Royce was there, tearing Peter off me and hurling him bodily into Max. It scared the hell out of me when I saw that Max was only a few feet away when Peter slammed into him. He thrust aside the heavily built vampire like a piece of stray newspaper blown his way by an errant wind. Royce met Max mid-stride. He deflected Max’s sword and went for his throat with a hand curled into claws. All of this happened while I was still catching my balance from being torn out of Peter’s grasp.

There were more people rushing down the stairs and moving to grapple with or shoot at the other vampires in the room. I had time to see a fur-sprouting Chaz bounding in my direction, Tiny and Devon, too, while a few of the vampires who had been with us at the club headed for John. All four doors in the room slammed open, more of Royce’s vampires pouring in with fangs bared and eyes aglow.

Not a bad way to stage a coup. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied, I would have applauded Royce’s tactics.

The rest of Max’s men must have heard the commotion. The room was soon packed with vamps from both sides, screaming, biting, and clawing at each other. Every now and then I could hear gunshots or the explosions of spells, drowning out the other sounds of battle in brief spurts.

The creepiest opponent of all was Dawn. I watched with some astonishment as she flowed gracefully through the viciously clashing bodies around her toward Max’s people on the stairs, her eyes glowing with an eerie greenish radiance. I watched how some of the vampires simply stopped in their tracks when they spotted her, struck deaf, dumb, and blind as she became their universe. With a touch she made them into her guards. I watched in amazement as they turned on those who had a moment ago been their allies, tearing with fangs and claws into any of Max’s vampires who attempted to hurt her.

Well, seeing as everyone else was having so much fun, I decided I might as well join the fray. I unbuttoned my jacket, drawing a stake and gun in one fluid motion. The belt was positively cackling with glee. The warmth of rage swelled up inside me, aching for release.

I gladly let it take me.

My world narrowed down to one target. John was engaged, but Peter’s unmistakable, bulky form was working on escape up the stairs, bodily throwing other vampires out of his way. I noted a huge, furred body tearing apart one of the vampires who had been standing near me, knew it was Chaz, and was further warmed by the chorus of triumphant howls echoing deafeningly across the basement. The pack was here, and it was pissed. Max and Royce were still fighting, looking like nothing so much as solid blurs of force. Max had the advantage of a sword while Royce had none.

I was not concerned. My eyes were all for Peter.

A few vampires got between me and my prize but I barely noticed them, throwing any obstacles out of my way. Later, I came to realize I wasn’t being too particular whose side they were on either. All that mattered was that there were obstacles in my way and I needed them gone.

I followed Peter up the stairs, giving chase, tightening my fingers around the stake as I closed the distance between us. He was fast, but I was lighter on my feet.

When we reached the landing of the second floor, he unexpectedly turned and stiff-armed me. My own momentum sent me crashing down on my back, breath knocked painfully out of my chest. I held on to the gun, but the stake was so slick with blood, despite the leather grip, it slid out of my fingers.

He caught my arms and straddled my waist, pinning my wrists to the floor. His fingers dug in until I dropped the gun, too.

Grinning down at me, he bared his fangs in triumph. “You are one tough little bitch. Not tough enough for me, though. Didn’t you learn that last time?”

“Fuck you,” I spat up at him, trying to twist free of his grasp. He laughed at my efforts.

“This seems familiar somehow. What do you think, would Max have a problem with me having another taste?”

I faltered, an involuntary shudder threading through me. Even knowing I was stronger now, armored against that brand of attack, it didn’t prevent a sudden, phobic reaction. We might as well have been back in that strange house in the woods. When he leaned in, I panicked, a hoarse scream passing my lips. I twisted and struggled, screeching denial as I fought his grip.

This couldn’t happen to me, not again!

I could hear the tips of his fangs raking against the slick material of the turtleneck, preventing him from piercing anything vital, but I felt like my heart might just explode from straining against the steel bands of terror wrapped so tightly around it.

He laughed, low and pleased with my reaction, trailing his way up to my lips. He swallowed any further screams, covering my mouth with his own. His fingers tightened on my wrists as he slanted his mouth over mine. Then his fangs pierced my lower lip, drawing a few drops of blood.

I bucked against his hold. I wasn’t handcuffed or hindered by frail human muscle this time. Now I had what it took, including the power and the engrained knowledge of how to leverage my body to flip him off me and reverse our positions. In the process, one of his fangs caught on my lip, not just pulling but tearing it.

The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, more of it running down my chin. This wasn’t the electrifying experience of Friday night. This was just painful, plain and simple. It fucking hurt.

“Thon of a bith!” I cried, digging my nails into his wrists hard enough to startle a yowl of pain out of him. “You ath-hole!”

It didn’t take long for him to recover from the bite of my nails. He had the sheer gall to laugh at me, amused by the lisp caused by my split lip.

With a howl of fury, I surged back to sock him across the jaw with everything I had. As soon as I let go of his arm, his fingers shot up to encircle my throat, squeezing chokingly tight. His grip faltered when I hit him, his head rocking back so hard the wooden floor cracked and splintered.

That blind rage was back, consuming me. How dare he frighten me? How dare he touch me?

How dare he fight back?

I don’t know how many times I hit him. At one point, I let go of his other arm to pound with both fists, alternating as smoothly as a metronome. If he’d been human, one blow would have shattered his skull. As it was, I’d bruised and bloodied his face, split his lips on his own fangs, and broken his nose.

My knuckles were red and raw when I stopped, my chest heaving. Only then did I realize his fingers had fallen from my throat. There was something innately satisfying about having him lying there so limply, maybe not even what passed among vampires as alive anymore. I took a few seconds to admire my handiwork, pleased rather than disgusted with the mess I’d made of him. Some part of me was rejoicing at the blood, the violence, but not satisfied with the damage. It wanted more.

It drowned out the little part of me that wanted to have hysterics and run screaming from the room.

As I gathered my legs under me to rise, one of Peter’s ham-fisted hands reached up and tangled in my hair. He yanked me back down as he screamed in wordless rage and pain right into my face, brown eyes gone feral with bloodlust.

My next move wasn’t particularly thought out. I snagged another stake from my belt and drove it deep into his chest. He continued screaming, his fingers tightening even more on my hair. I must have missed the heart.

Peter’s rage called to my own, leaving me warring between terror, fury, and exultation. I pulled the stake out and struck him with it again, then a third time. On the fourth and last time, I shoved it into his chest, up between the ribs, gritting my teeth as tears rolled down my cheeks. He clawed at my back, gasping for air as I straddled him, pushing the metal spike as deep as it would go.

“Die, you thon of a bith! Juth die already!”

With a last, fading cry, he obliged me.

Chapter 32

I remained draped on top of the body long after Peter stopped struggling beneath me, the hellish light having faded from his eyes one final time. It felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes of me leaning as hard as I could into the stake, fighting against the resistance of the wooden floor beneath him.