CHAPTER 33
LEA
A sharp pain sliced through my head that had nothing to do with my own injuries and everything to do with Rachel’s. I stumbled and pressed a hand against the wall closest to me as the building rumbled like a beast in the throes of death. I had no doubt the explosions were Rachel’s work.
“If we don’t hurry up, we’re going to fry like Sunday chicken.” Calvin grabbed my arm and jerked me forward.
“Did you ever feel me when we were bound?” I didn’t look at him as we ran down the corridor.
“No.”
That’s what I’d thought. In all the years I’d worked with Calvin, I’d never been able to sense where he was, or if he was hurt. To be fair, I’d never had this strong of a bond with any of my servants. I’d heard of bonds this powerful between vampires and their servants, but hadn’t really believed it until now.
I didn’t need Rachel’s scent to find her anymore. The pull toward Rachel was too strong. A secondary explosion rocked the building and the lights flickered, dimmed, and went out.
Calvin grabbed my hand and led the way. “The main garage is full of idiots with guns. If we go out the side exit, we’ll avoid the worst of them.”
“Last chance, Cal.” I whispered the words, knowing full well he heard me. Some gut instinct compelled me to say it.
We took a left at the next T-intersection, kicked open a locked door and there he stood in front of us.
Stravinsky.
“What a good pet you are, Calvin,” he murmured, the weight of his words crushing the air out of me.
Calvin dropped his head, shook it once. “No, I didn’t...Lea, I didn’t know he was here. This was an exit. I know it.”
Stravinsky laughed, the sound echoing in the rounded-out room. “That’s what I let you believe. I made you, Calvin. I can get inside your head whenever I want.”
Calvin’s head jerked up. “No, that’s not true. Peter never controlled Lea.”
Stravinsky smiled. “May I point out, you have neither Lea’s fortitude nor her mental strength. From what Peter said, she fought him from the beginning, her faith in her quest giving her all she needed to deny him. While your anger, confusion, and quest for revenge make you weak and easily manipulated.”
“Calvin.” I said his name with as much emotion as I could. “Calvin, he doesn’t own you.”
Stravinsky tipped his head to the side. “You want to use him as a prize? See who he comes to? Who can break his mind first?”
Calvin’s eyes shot to mine and I shook my head. “No. He is my friend, no matter how much hate he carries for me.”
The words seemed to soften something in Calvin, but Stravinsky snapped his fingers. “To me, Calvin.”
Cal took a step toward his master, stumbled a bit and then took another as an explosion rocked the foundation under our feet. This was not the time for our contest of wills.
“Calvin—” I didn’t lift a hand or try to manipulate him with words, knowing him well enough that it would send him the wrong direction. “You fight him on your own, then come with me and we’ll take them down together. I will not force you, not even in this.” I took a step back. Rachel’s heartbeat tugged at me, the steady thrum that hummed along the bond the only thing that gave me hope that Ivan and Antonio were keeping her safe.
I took another step back and waited. We didn’t have a lot of time, but this was one of those moments that couldn’t be rushed.
“Kill her,” Stravinsky snarled.
Calvin tensed and so did I. I held my ground. “We can take him, Cal.”
Just the truth, nothing more.
“You...know me better than I thought.” Calvin grinned over his shoulder at me, and for the first time in years I saw the life in him. Ironic, now that he was dead.
I held out a hand and he slapped his palm into it, jerked me forward and threw me at Stravinsky. I shot through the air, yanking a stake from the top of my boot as I came down on the vamp.
Except that one second he was there, and the next he wasn’t.
“You think you’re the only one full of werewolf blood, Lea?” Stravinsky was on the other side of the room, and I hadn’t even seen him move. It was normal for humans not to see vampire movement. But vamp to vamp, both of us loaded with werewolf blood? Shit, how old was he?
A cold chill ran down my spine. Stravinsky waved to me, but I spun around and ran the way we had come, away from whatever trick Stravinsky had planned for me.
Call it a hunch, but—
The explosion behind us sent Calvin and me flying out the door and down the stretch of hall, our bodies tumbling and then smacking onto the cement. I rolled onto my back, away from the fire, putting out the flames burning the back of my shirt. Calvin reached over as if to pat one out and then pulled his hand back. “That would be stupid.”