“You must be out of your mind! The Mississippians are still in the area. It would leave the palace undefended.”
“But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? It’s called killing two birds with one stone. Victor will get what’s coming to him. And don’t play any games, or I’ll play games with your bride. I have somebody watching the palace to make sure you comply.”
A click in the line confirmed that Abel had disconnected the call.
“Shit,” Cain cursed. Why would his brother make the palace vulnerable to the attack of the Mississippians? He had to know that they would take over the moment the guards had left. But he couldn’t worry about what Abel had meant with his cryptic remark about the leader of the Mississippi clan. Faye was more important than his kingdom.
“I heard it,” Haven confirmed. “Do what he says. It’ll buy us some time. How much longer to the cemetery?”
“Five minutes.”
“I’ll call Thomas,” Haven said. “Wes, you’d better come up with some spell to help us out.”
***
The cemetery still lay in darkness, but at the horizon Cain could already see the new day dawning. He jumped from the car.
“There should be protective gear in the back,” he called out to Haven and opened the trunk. Haven rushed to his side and together they rifled through the items at their disposal: one dark jacket, one hoodie, and gloves.
“Shit.” He looked at Haven. “You’ll have to stay here. I need the jacket for Faye.”
Cain pulled on the hoodie, snatched the jacket, and slipped the gloves on while already running into the cemetery, his eyes searching for John’s SUV. But it hadn’t arrived yet. Cain barreled down the main path. He hadn’t been here in decades, but he remembered the location of his family crypt well.
The crypt, which looked like a small chapel from the outside, stood at the far end of the cemetery, its walls a good twelve feet high and surrounded by a cast iron gate to prevent vandals from defacing the stones.
Faye, I’m here.
Her response came a moment later. Hurry, the sun, I can sense it rising.
Every vampire had that same sense, a survival instinct. It sent a warning signal through Cain’s body now, letting him know that in a moment the sun would breach the horizon and the first rays would turn night into day.
Watch out! Abel is close.
Faye’s warning came just in time. The sound of a motorcycle’s engine revving up came from behind the crypt. Cain’s head whirled to it and he saw a dark figure on the bike, navigating through the tight path between the Montague crypt and the grave on its left. Cain charged into the path of the motorcycle, facing it head-on as the rider, whose face was hidden behind a helmet, tried to get past him.
Cain reached for the handlebar and jerked it to the side, making the bike lose its footing on the gravel beneath its wheels. While the bike’s front wheel slammed against Cain’s leg, pushing him to the ground, the biker hurtled toward him, landing on Cain’s chest.
Despite the disguise, Cain could identify his brother’s aura.
Cain blocked his brother’s first strike with his forearm, then kicked him off and rolled to the side, jumping to his feet in the same movement. He whirled to face him, but Abel had jumped up just as quickly. He’d always been agile. Cain charged at him, tackling him and slamming him against the wrought iron fence surrounding the crypt. The iron moaned under the impact, giving a little.
Abel grunted and fought back, his fists flying at Cain’s unprotected face, knocking his head sideways and making his vertebrae crack audibly. Abel used the time this bought him to push himself away from the fence. But Cain caught himself quickly and landed an uppercut underneath Abel’s chin, the only portion of his head that wasn’t protected by his helmet.
Abel’s head whipped back for only an instant, Cain’s blow having done no damage. Furious, Cain aimed at his brother’s neck, but the gloves impeded his claws from slicing into the part of Abel’s flesh that was exposed. His upper body was protected too well. The heavy Kevlar vest was practically impenetrable.
Cain reached for the knife on his belt when a blow to his shoulder ripped him to the side. A ray of sun hit his face that instant and made him cry out in pain. Whirling back to Abel and turning his back to the rising sun, he finally gripped his knife and pulled it from its sheath. He aimed low.
While his knife drove into Abel’s thigh, his brother ripped the hoodie off Cain’s head, exposing it to the sun. He felt the heat as if somebody was aiming a flamethrower at him.
The scent of Abel’s blood and Cain’s burning hair mingled. Clenching his jaw, Cain’s hand jerked up, trying to drive the knife underneath Abel’s chin, but his brother’s arm blocked him just before it reached its target.