Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10)(34)

As they pulled him upright, Max struck out with the blade, catching them by surprise that he was nearly free. He plunged it into the neck of his nearest assailant, then ripped the blade across his throat. Blood spurted everywhere, startling and distracting the others attacking him. Still partly tangled in the net, he held on to the slippery knife and completed the hack job, bringing the blade back around to finish severing the vampire’s head. As he cut through the last vertebra, the undead exploded into dust.

But Max was just getting started.

He flung off the remnants of the net and stabbed out with his stake at another assailant, then tripped a third undead, shoving him so he tumbled into the square of sunlight. The second vampire dodged the blow from Max’s stake at the last minute, so it slammed harmlessly into his torso. He grabbed Max, catching him off balance after the missed blow, and threw him into the wall.

Max’s head hit hard, and he crashed to the floor as the vampire came after him. But he angled his feet back toward his body and met the undead with a powerful blow, thrusting him up and away with all the strength in his legs. The creature flew through the air and landed in a pool of sunshine, screaming with agony.

Max shook his head and clambered to his feet, out of breath, exhilarated, and filled with fury.

And then he stopped.

Iscariot had Macey. She stood there, panting, fiery-eyed with fury, held in place by a vampire on each side. Her hands were empty of weapons.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Max saw movement at the window. One of the damned policemen—no, two of them!—were climbing inside.

Bloody fools. And bugger it—he didn’t have time to deal with them now.

“Nice show, Denton,” crooned Iscariot, looking at Macey with burning eyes. “But now it’s time to get down to business.”

“The only business I have with you is dusting your evil soul,” Max replied.

“The feeling is quite mutual.” The vampire lord turned and flickered a glance at Macey. “Yet death is too simple, isn’t it? Too quick—even if I tried to prolong it, which I would certainly do for you, Max Denton. But there are things worse than death. For you, anyway.” He smiled, his fangs long and sharp. “Are there not?”

Iscariot looked again at Macey, but this time it was more than a glance. This time, he was calling to her with his gaze—coaxing her, lulling her. Max could almost feel the vibration of his thrall as the evil lord lured her to look at him.

He saw the way she stiffened, lifted her face, and seemed to respond. Her body softened from its ready stance, and her knees appeared to give way a little.

“Macey,” Max snapped, suddenly nervous, trying to jolt her out of the murk.

She shivered, as if struggling to listen to him, to hear him, and Iscariot made a sharp gesture. The vampire goons holding her arms released them, and Macey actually took a step closer to the evil lord. Then she stopped, fairly vibrating in her place, seeming to fight the urge to move again. Max saw her chest shudder as if she were attempting to draw in a deep breath—or fighting to keep her own breath and heartbeat.

“A life worse than death,” Iscariot murmured. “What would be the worst thing that could happen to you, Max Denton? Sending you to your grave—oh, that’s far too easy. But destroying someone you love…now there’s an idea.” He turned from Macey, breaking the thrall, his eyes wild and excited as he turned them onto Max—who managed to avert his own just in time. “Watching you live through yet another loss would be beyond entertaining.”

“Just try it, Nicky,” Max sneered. His heart was pounding normally again, now that Macey seemed to be free for the moment. Still, she wasn’t moving, just stood there. He tried to catch her eye, tried to let her know he was here, to give her strength, to remind her how strong she was—but she was watching Iscariot. An unpleasant tremor rippled through Max and he gripped his stake tighter.

The vampire lord was too smart to stand in a position in which Max could hit him with his stake; no, the creature stood at such an angle that there was no possibility. Not yet, anyway.

“But…wait. I’ve an even better idea,” Iscariot said. “She’s much too lovely to be wasted on a mere coffin. And I do get lonely sometimes.” He smiled at Macey. “Perhaps you’d like to be my consort.”

“I don’t think so,” she replied, and Max’s heart started up again.

“But it would be wonderful. I’ve always had a soft spot for you, lovely Macey. Ever since the first time I tasted you.” Iscariot stilled, his attention focused on her. “I could even learn to forgive you for marking me…because, after all, I’ve done the same to you.” His hand moved sharply, and she looked down, as if her gaze was drawn by a string.

Max saw it too: a stripe of red down the front of her blouse, seeming to connect the buttons that held it together. And another one, around the front of her breast.

“You want the pyramid,” Max said in an attempt to distract the vampire lord from his current tack.

“Oh, yes, and I’ll have it…have no fear. But I think I’ll also have this lovely woman as well. And…I think…she’s going to come to me quite willingly…aren’t you, Macey, my darling?”

“Yes…yes, I think I shall,” she said. And stepped toward him.





FIFTEEN

~ Our Summas Miscalculates a Second Time ~



Macey dared not look at her father. She kept her eyes directed at Iscariot, but slightly averted—safely focused on the inside edges of his two dark brows, right where they nearly met at the bridge of his nose.

Strangely enough, the fear that had simmered below the surface whenever she thought of Iscariot had evaporated the moment she stepped into this room. It was as if she were somehow charged with purpose, as if she’d somehow realized now was the time to make her stand—and that, powerful as he was, he would lose to her.

Now, as she moved closer to the vampire lord, pretending to be drawn by him, she could smell the excitement wafting off Iscariot. It was tinged with death and darkness, and she wanted nothing more than to sneer at him, and tell him he stank.

But not yet.

Max was looking a little disheveled—though she’d seen the way he hacked off the undead’s head with nothing more than a dagger, and had annihilated three vampires with spectacular skill and speed. Macey knew Iscariot wasn’t finished with him yet—with either of them.

She’d already managed to have Iscariot make the two brute vampires release her by pretending to consider his offer, and acting as if she were about to collapse. Or, rather, to allow Iscariot to think he was enthralling her enough that she was actually considering it.

She’d also refused to look over at the body lying on the floor near the windows. It had to be Grady, and from what she could tell…it was not good. But she also noticed Linwood and another police officer climbing in through the window. She hoped with every fiber of her being that they would see to Grady, get him out safely, instead of attempting to join the fight against the undead.

Though she no longer had a stake in hand, beneath her shirt, Macey was still well armed. She wore the large silver cross, and had a stake secreted along the side seam of her shirt, one beneath each arm. She just needed the opportunity to use them.

“Macey,” Max said. His voice was tight, and she knew he was becoming terrified as she seemed to succumb to Iscariot’s will.

She turned slowly toward him, as if pulled by his voice, but kept her expression blank and her eyes unfocused. She couldn’t let on, even to him, that she was pretending—mostly pretending, anyway. Iscariot’s thrall was wickedly strong, and she had felt herself lulled more than once.

But when she concentrated on the heavy weight of the silver cross, and the tiny spark of energy from the vis bulla, she felt their protection wrap around her like a cocoon…and she was able to focus on a pinpoint of clarity in the very center of her mind. She held it there, like a small flame, even when she swayed and trembled and felt as if her knees were to give away.

“Did you hear that, Denton?” Iscariot crowed. “She is coming to me. What a long, lustful life we’ll have together. And, my pet, with Rekk’s Pyramid, we’ll be rulers of more than the underworld.” He held out a skeletal hand to her. She took it, forcing herself not to cringe at the feel of his cool, dry flesh.

Max moved sharply, and something whipped through the air. But Iscariot was fast, and he yanked Macey into his arms in a lovers’ embrace—and a shield.

She cried out as the stake meant for the vampire’s heart plunged into her shoulder, lodging there from behind, then heard Max’s own cry of rage and horror, followed by the mad shuffle of fighting.

“Now see what you’ve done, Denton. Impaled your own daughter! It’s no wonder she chooses me…over you. She chooses immortality over a life doomed to fail…as yours is.”

Macey’s head swam against the pain—her father was supremely strong, and with impeccable aim—and she realized with a nauseating start that the stake had gone all the way through the soft part of her shoulder…and a shallow wooden point emerged from the front. Now her blouse was blossoming red there as well.