The vampiress hissed. “Tezra.” Which confirmed she was indeed Lichorus.
“Thought I’d killed you at the seafood restaurant,” Tezra said, her tone intentionally cocky.
Several vampires moved out of their path as if clearing the way for a western gunfight. Again, the distasteful notion that no one would help her, or warn Daemon the vamp intended to fight her forced her temperature to elevate and her skin to prickle with anger.
“Didn’t Daemon tell you Ionia was my cousin?”
“Your nicer half, I take it. Though she left your ruby necklace with her ashes, intending to kill me and blame you for my death.” Tezra smiled with satisfaction as Lichorus cursed under her breath.
Reaching behind her back, Tezra pulled out her sword.
“Tezra, where the hell are you?” Daemon asked.
She assumed he was being bombarded by telepathic communications, and he couldn’t sense her. Were the vampires doing it purposefully to stop him from helping her?
“Find her, Atreides, Bernard, Maison. Locate her at once and bring her to me,” he ordered.
Too late.
Instead of unsheathing her sword, Lichorus exposed her teeth and dove at Tezra.
Chapter Fifteen
Tezra jumped aside, avoiding Lichorus’s razor sharp teeth. She could move faster now, though not as fast as ancients like Lichorus, but her action thoroughly confounded the vamp.
Lichorus eyed Tezra in surprise. “He turned you?”
Pretending not to hear her telepathic communication, Tezra didn’t respond.
Lichorus lunged again, her teeth bared.
Part of Tezra warned her not to kill Lichorus, to leave her to Daemon, but part of her said to hell with that. The bitch threatened to kill her, and that was all she needed to excuse her actions.
Wielding the sword, Tezra sliced at the woman as the crowd grew in size to watch. Barely escaping the blade’s sharp point, Lichorus vanished.
Tezra couldn’t tell from the vampires’ somber expressions whether they wanted Lichorus to win or not. All remained silent, or channeled their communications solely to each other. And she assumed they didn’t want Daemon to know the huntress was fighting for her life against one of their own.
Gazes shifted to a location behind her, and Tezra pivoted to face the threat. With teeth bared, Lichorus yanked out her sword and swung at Tezra. Lichorus didn’t have the luxury of a long game. She hurried to finish the job before Daemon caught her.
“Tezra’s fighting Lichorus!” Atreides communicated to Daemon, sounding panicked.
Then the clatter of sword fighting broke out inside the house, and Tezra figured she had to do this on her own, just as she’d planned from the beginning.
“Atreides, grab Lichorus! Where are they?”
“Damn, Daemon, Mustaphus is here!” Atreides warned. “And several of his followers.”
Daemon should have known Tezra would go after Lichorus to reduce the number of rebels in their midst. Hadn’t he told her he wanted her to stay in a defensive mode, safe from harm? “SCU investigator, my ass,” he mumbled under his breath while trying to locate Tezra. She was a bona fide huntress whether the SCU wanted to recognize it or not.
As soon as he moved toward the patio doors, four rogue vampires appeared in front of him, all with swords drawn, all trying to keep him from protecting his ward. Nearby, he glimpsed Atreides parrying against the thrust of Mustaphus’s sword, and Bernard and Patrico fought their own battles against rebel vampires. Voltan towered over everyone, backing two vampires into a corner near the fireplace. Maison let out a war whoop from the dining area and the swords began to clank with a vengeance. As if the fight had become a free-for-all, Daemon’s people joined in the battle, the lines clearly drawn.
“You still have a choice.” Daemon waved his sword from the redheaded vampire on one end to the brunette at the other. “Join me, or die.”
“Krustalus and Mustaphus will win this day,” the redhead said. “There needs to be a radical change in the way of doing business. You have lived long past your prime, old man.”
Old man? “Let me show you what this old man can do.” Daemon moved so quickly, the blond standing in the middle of the four didn’t have time to react to the swing of Daemon’s blade. The blond’s severed head fell to the floor, and then his body collapsed. “A fledgling?” Daemon asked, knowing he had to be or his body would have dissolved into dust.
The redhead and brunette tried to take him on, but Daemon vanished, then reappeared behind the last three. After beheading the brunette, he vanished again before the redhead and the other man could turn to fight him.
“You don’t fight fair!” The redhead screamed like a man who was used to getting his way.
“I’m an old man, as you so aptly put it, Red. Through the ages, I have learned to win my battles any way that I can. If you find my methods unfair, I wonder what you think of Krustalus’s and Mustaphus’s deeds.”
The other man backed away and quickly bowed. “I will serve you, Prince Daemon.”
“Your name?”
The man’s electric blue eyes shown like ice, but he turned his sword on Red. “Krouse, the Avenger.”
“Damn you, you traitor,” Red said, and jabbed his blade at Krouse. But Krouse lived up to his word and with a wicked slice, cut Red’s sword arm. He promptly dropped his weapon, but extended his fangs.
Without hesitation, Krouse ran him through, then looked to Daemon when Red collapsed dead on the floor—another damned fledgling, arrogant to the hilt.
“Help Maison in the dining room,” he commanded, and Krouse bowed, then vanished. Daemon tried to locate Tezra again, swearing he’d lock her up for her own safety until this was over.
If he could find her in time.
***
As soon as Tezra heard Atreides say Mustaphus was here, she knew he would jump in to protect his lover, Lichorus. No way could Tezra fight two ancients at the same time.
But for now, she had to concentrate on the black-haired menace in front of her.
Tezra stabbed at Lichorus when she came in for another pass. This time her long nails raked Tezra’s cheek. The stinging wasn’t half as painful as it was for Lichorus, no doubt, when Tezra lopped off her nails to the quick. Lichorus screamed, but a couple of vampires laughed out loud. Tezra didn’t figure they thought it funny, but instead tried to cover up Lichorus’s cry of distress. To prolong the fight? To ensure Daemon didn’t stop the entertainment?
Thrusting with her sword, Lichorus attempted to stab Tezra in the heart. She jumped back out of her reach. But a spectator shoved Tezra toward Lichorus, giving the vamp the advantage.
Tezra’s heart sank. It was bad enough that nobody but his brother warned Daemon what was going on, but now to have one of his people aid in her demise was too much.
Lichorus swung her sword at Tezra, but she blocked it with such force, Lichorus’s blade shattered. Slamming the remainder of her sword to the stone patio, Lichorus lunged, her sharp canines aimed at Tezra’s throat. Without hesitation, Tezra jammed her blade into the woman’s heart.
Lichorus screamed, soulless eyes stared back at her with disbelief, then her body disintegrated into a pile of clothed ashes.
The crowd parted for a second.
“Tezra, sweet.”
Krustalus—his thin face exaggerating his large nose, his eyes as dark as a bottomless well and his black hair unbound as if he’d awakened from a long nap—stood tall, imposing, angry.
He stared at Tezra, then looked at Lichorus’s remains. “Dear Tezra, the vamp would not have lived a second longer under my rule had you not killed her first.”
The memory of her murdered parents flitted across her mind, and the fury boiled inside her. She thrust her sword at his chest. He dodged the blade, seized her wrist and yanked the sword from her hand. Tossing it aside with a clatter to the pavement, he grinned, his chin tilted up, taunting her to try something else.
Before she could struggle free, ano
ther vampire, dark-haired and eyed, rushed toward Tezra with murder in his eyes. He looked a lot like the photo of Daemon’s Uncle Solomon, and she realized at once how the police could have mistaken his uncle for this man. Mustaphus.
Krustalus released her, caught Mustaphus’s arm, and shook his head. “She’s mine, Mustaphus,” he hissed. “None of you will touch her.”
The thought flitted across her mind that he was making an enemy of the same people who had already shown her so much animosity, not the thing to do if he was trying to win them over so that he could rule. Or maybe he didn’t need to win them over, just rule by brute force.
Not if she had her way. She leapt for her sword, but Krustalus blocked her path.
“Wrong,” Daemon said, appearing between Krustalus and Tezra, his sword already unsheathed. “She is mine.”
She raised a brow, caught off guard by how possessive he sounded, like he owned her and no one would disagree when hell, he didn’t even wish her to be his mate.
Before Daemon and Krustalus could fight, Patrico stole the show. Whipping out a sword, he targeted Mustaphus. The two were matched in size, except the ancient vampire had the advantage with his vampiric abilities. Bernard raced in to help, but Patrico waved him away.
What did Patrico have to prove? His head still sported a bloodied bandage—the damned macho hunter was going to get himself killed.
Tezra went for her sword again, but Voltan grabbed her wrist and shook his head. “Let…me…go, Voltan, or you’re next!”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “If you do not behave, I will place you in the dungeon for your own safety.”
She scowled at him. “I can sift.”
“Try it, if you like.”
She attempted to sift out of his confining grasp. Nothing. Dammit!
Not even Daemon would interfere this time, and she wanted to bite him for being so damned…vampiric, leaving the fight to Mustaphus and his challenger—to right the wrongs Mustaphus had committed against Patrico—like a gladiator fight in the days of old. The rest of the vampires watched, fascinated to see the outcome.
Patrico thrust his sword at Mustaphus, the vampire’s dark brown eyes now coal black. He easily glided out of the blade’s path.
If Tezra couldn’t fight the vampire, she would attempt to distract him. “Murderer!” she screamed into Mustaphus’s head.
Mustaphus glanced in her direction and growled. Enough to give Patrico a decisive jab in the chest, but the vampire suddenly moved and the blade missed his heart.
Mustaphus screamed out in pain. Blood dripped from the wound, the cut hurting his vanity. He retaliated, slicing his sword with a whoosh at Patrico’s torso. The hunter dodged out of the wicked blade’s path.
Tezra’s heart nearly gave out. Krustalus gave Daemon a look confirming they would be next in the fight to the finish.
Again Patrico thrust, but Mustaphus deflected the weapon, the metals clanking in anger.
“You thought Lichorus loved you but she wanted Daemon back.”
Mustaphus’s face hardened, but he didn’t look in her direction this time. She had to think of something else to distract him!
Everyone seemed to hold their breath, yet the looks on their faces were of morbid curiosity. It didn’t seem as though they hoped one would triumph over the other. Instead, they enjoyed the battle, as any might take pleasure in a bloody, violent spectator sport. Except Daemon.
She sensed he was still angry with Patrico for not protecting her earlier on, for hiding and saving his own skin. This fight was a matter of honor. If Patrico defeated his adversary, his prowess would exonerate him. But dammit! Patrico was already badly injured from the earlier fight at the beach house! How could he hope to win?
“Why kill the police officers, Mustaphus?” Tezra communicated solely to him, attempting to save Patrico’s life. As far as she was concerned, the fact he’d come to save Katie from Krustalus at his own peril was all she needed to forgive him.
Again Mustaphus glanced in her direction and exposed his canines with a hiss.
For distracting him so thoroughly, she gave him a smug smile. “You killed Patrico’s hunter friend. Before this, you’d murdered several barflies.” She only assumed the woman he’d helped kill in front of Patrico was just one of many, and that he’d still been killing women to this day.
When she felt Voltan’s grip loosening a bit, she tried to twist free, but he tightened his hold and she scowled at him.
Patrico sliced at Mustaphus’s chest, connecting with the vampire’s sword arm. Mustaphus cried out, the blood collecting across his sleeve. He quickly switched the sword to his left hand. Damn, he was ambidextrous?
“The police were on to you, weren’t they Mustaphus?” she quickly said, before Patrico wore himself out and made a fatal mistake. “They planned to take you, except Daemon’s Uncle Solomon was at your home. He looked similar to you, despite protesting his innocence, the police officers killed him. He never fought them, did he? He was innocent all right, and your friend. Although, if he’d known the truth about you, he would have turned you in to Daemon. Wouldn’t he? You were a master manipulator, and you got your best friend killed!”
Mustaphus suddenly sifted, appearing in front of her. He grabbed her throat with lightning speed. Before anyone else could react, Patrico bolted after him and with a thrust, jabbed the hunter’s blade into the vampire’s back, the metal reaching his heart with single-minded focus.
Mustaphus didn’t have time to scream. His hand on Tezra’s throat dissolved into ashes, and the remainder of him quickly followed.
Relieved Patrico lived to fight another day, Tezra bowed her head to him. Whatever else he had neglected to do in the past, he was not a coward in her eyes anymore. His chest heaving, he looked like a man exonerated from his past.
But the show wasn’t over. As soon as Mustaphus lay in ruins on the stone patio in front of her, Krustalus lunged at Daemon.
“You will die, Krustalus!” Tezra shouted into his brain.
He offered her a sinister smile and struck at Daemon, their swords clanking with the impact. “Do not think you can distract me like you did Mustaphus, sweet Tezra. That’s what you were doing, no? You will be my ultimate challenge.”
Daemon whipped his sword around so quickly it was a blur.
Krustalus again impeded Daemon’s progress with a sword block and resulting thunk.
“I promised to kill you, you bastard! I will still do so!”
He raised his brows, but kept his focus on the real threat, Daemon, prince of their people. “It will be hard to do, if Voltan continues to hold your wrist.”
“It’s him.” Katie’s voice cracked with emotion. “He killed Mom and Dad.”
Tezra stared at the gun Katie held, her mind shifting through the ramifications. Bullets wouldn’t work on the vampire unless they were silver, though even regular lead bullets could make him weaker for a short while. But she didn’t want her sister getting involved. What if the vampires turned on her?
“We’ll handle this in our own way,” Daemon said, his voice stern. “The vampire way. Put the gun down.”
“Katie.” The panic rose in her blood as Tezra wriggled against Voltan’s confinement to reach her sister and stop her, but she couldn’t free herself from the giant’s strong grip. “Katie, honey, lower the gun.”
Daemon thrust his sword again at Krustalus, and the vampire defended himself with a whack at Daemon’s blade.
For a second, they separated.
A trigger clicked in rapid succession; the explosion deafening to Tezra’s sensitive vampiric hearing. The smell of gunpowder discharged in the breeze, and three bullets slammed into Krustalus’s chest. Not silver, or Krustalus would have dissolved into ashes.
Tezra glanced back at Katie who immediately turned the gun on Daemon, her face streaked with tears. “You changed Tezra against her will.”
Alarmed, Tezra hastily summoned the ability to sift. Not sure how it happened, but in a blur she slipped
out of Voltan’s grasp, her molecules shifting so fast, the giant didn’t expect it. She didn’t have time to think about it. The sensation of being lighter than air changed quickly to feeling pinned down by gravity. Even so, she managed to lunge between Katie and Daemon. If Katie shot Daemon and weakened him, he could die at Krustalus’s hand and doom everyone who cared for the prince of the vampire clans.
Katie’s eye couldn’t fathom Tezra appearing so quickly, and she fired the gun at Daemon. The bullet ricocheted off Tezra’s ribs and lodged in her heart before her mind could accept her sister had shot her. Tezra grabbed her chest and collapsed to her knees. Adrenaline flooded her system, preventing her from feeling the pain.
Realizing what she’d done, Katie screamed, “Tezra!” and threw the gun on the patio.
“Jesus,” Daemon said, grabbing Tezra’s arm.
“Concentrate on Krustalus!” she ordered Daemon, giving him a look that could kill. “You know I’ll live.”
Though she had serious doubts as the warm blood soaked her gown. Then she thought of the irony of the situation. If Daemon hadn’t turned her, Katie’s bullet would have killed her. If Daemon hadn’t turned her, Katie probably wouldn’t have shot at him and hit Tezra instead. If Daemon hadn’t turned her, she wouldn’t have been able to sift in front of him and wouldn’t have been shot no matter what. Such were the strange thoughts swimming through her mind while Katie sobbed next to her, her hand covering Tezra’s seeping wound.
A streak of pain jolted her heart. Despite the shock, Tezra’s mind drifted and people blurred. She noticed Bernard’s left arm was cut when he drew near her. He yanked off his tuxedo jacket and bunched it against her wound while she lay on the hard stone patio. The funniest notion crossed her fuzzy brain—Bernard now had the best excuse in the world to ditch the tuxedo jacket he hated so. Patrico tore his jacket off too, and placed it under her head.
Vaguely, she heard Daemon and Krustalus’s swords sweep through the air nearby and crash with clanks and clangs, bringing her attention back to the battle for power. Sweat beaded on Krustalus’s brow, but Daemon looked like he hadn’t even begun to fight.