“I’m smarter than I look.”
Taunting a master vampire of his caliber probably fell under the same danger category as swimming in a pool filled with anglerfish, or wearing red at a werebull convention. But if Petro targeted me, it would distract him from hurting my sisters…at least for the moment.
“I take it you heard of Zhahara and Misha’s breakup and used her anger to get her to do what you wanted.”
“Every great conqueror must take advantage of opportunity when it arises.” Petro spun like a top and kicked Misha in the face. Bones broke with a sickening crunch. The vampires hissed, except for Misha.
“You are courageous when your victim is tied down. Free me, and attempt to strike me again,” he snarled through shattered fangs.
Petro drew back his foot.
“What’s with the stuffed zebra heads, Pete? Did you kill them to impress slutty spell wielders?” My eyes danced to the witch. “I see that it worked.”
“Celia, please be quiet.”
Emme preferred I remain silent. I preferred to distract them from Misha, and from the spark of magic Taran had slyly called forth. Taran cut her eyes to mine, her irises already blanching from the gamut of power she’d quietly gathered. She would release it soon in one giant phoenix of energy—incapacitating her completely, but hopefully giving us time to escape. She dropped her head at the sight of my subtle nod, allowing her dark waves to hide her face.
Without a word, Petro’s family released Misha’s vampires and shoved them through the wide French doors leading out to a stone terrace. They attempted to thrust their way back to Misha, but the sheer number of Petro’s family easily held them back. Petro smiled. “I suggest you run.”
Something like the sound of locks snapping rang the length of the upstairs hall before bare and heavy feet thundered above us. Twelve severely infected vampires leaped over the railing. The closest one grabbed one of Petro’s keep and tore into his neck like corn on the cob before the witch regained control over her.
Misha spit blood from his mouth. “Run!” he ordered his vampires. They paused briefly before racing across the terrace and leaping over the railing. The witch brought her hand down like an Indy 500 flag and the bloodlusters barreled after them, graceful in their movements despite their hulking forms.
Petro motioned six of the vampires holding assault rifles forward, including his driver. “Keep them in your sights.” They bowed to Petro and quickly followed.
If I could have, I would have gone after Petro’s throat then. Misha’s vampires were far from kind, but they loved Misha, and he cared for them as much as any master could. And with his final breath he’d know his family was hunted down and mutilated.
The infected vampire holding me twisted my arm, making me grunt. “I’m going to enjoy watching you scream,” he whispered in my ear.
My temper took over and put me in touch with my inner Taran. “Is that what you tell Petro when you play with his boys?”
The vampire hissed. But it was the witch who spoke. “You need to learn respect,” she said in that odd little-girl voice. Her coal-colored eyes simmered as she smiled. So not a good sign. She yanked one of Shayna’s daggers from her holster and sashayed toward me, her long, sheer yellow gown flaring like a trickling stream behind her.
Oh, great. It was one of Shayna’s pointier numbers, too.
The bloodluster holding me tugged back my long hair, exposing the flesh of my neck the whip didn’t cover. She pressed the pointy tip into my jugular. It hurt, but I wasn’t the one who screamed.
The dagger launched into the wooden beam where Petro’s head had leaned seconds before. Emme had attempted to take out Petro on her own. Except he now harnessed the power of three ancient vampires, and their speed as well. Even if Emme had managed to stab him, it wouldn’t have been enough to end his life.
Petro’s tramp resented the attempt. She glared, shaking out her wrist. Emme had wrenched it hard to steal the knife. She stomped toward Emme, losing her swagger. My fangs shot out like bullets the moment her hand connected hard against Emme’s face.
She slapped her over and over again. Emme’s choked sobs pounded my eardrums with every strike. Finally she stepped away when Petro grabbed her wrist and kissed it. “My love, please calm. There are more ways we can play.” He flashed Emme a predator’s grin. He bent, his hand disappearing beneath the hem of Emme’s long skirt. Emme’s face paled and her eyes glassed over with terror, but Petro’s hand didn’t get far. I kicked out my leg and brought it down hard, cleaving Petro’s hand off with my back claws.