The dark figure materialized behind Ethan. Allan.
Not daring to make eye contact or look over Ethan’s shoulder, I projected my thoughts to Allan. On the count of three?
I didn’t wait for a response I wouldn’t get. Could Allan even hear me? Swishing my tail like a pendulum, I counted to three.
One.
Two.
Three.
On three, I leapt at Ethan. His arms moved up instinctively to block my claws. But he had no defense for my jaws clamping on his face.
Ethan dropped my forelimbs and grasped my head, preventing me from ripping his own off. Then Ethan’s body jolted. Again and again. The sick sound of metal slipping into his body reverberated in the room. Something pricked my belly.
Ethan’s grip relaxed and he fell forward, landing on top of me. Unlocking my jaw, I rolled out from underneath the dead weight.
Allan stood over us with a katana sword, its curved, slender single edge coated with blood.
“Make it quick.” He tossed the sword before my shift fully finished. I caught the hilt midflight and brought the blade down on the back of Ethan’s neck.
Young vamps turned to ash when staked or beheaded. The older ones would too, eventually, but I had a few hours to get his head to Lucien. Already shriveling, it looked like an old bloodless corpse instead of something that had kicked my ass moments ago.
“Don’t suppose you want to carry that for me?” Looking down at the gray, emaciated head, I shivered.
Allan held out a handkerchief and shook his head. “I have to carry Clint.”
My head whipped around to where the human servant lay in a pool of blood. His glazed eyes, open and unblinking.
Allan waved the handkerchief in my face.
Frowning, I snatched it from him.
“You’re bleeding,” he explained.
Sure enough, when I cast my eyes down at my bare navel, an ugly gash oozed blood. I clamped the cloth on it and pressed to stem the flow.
“I thought you were offering it to me to pick up the head. That or to cover up.”
“It would take more than that flimsy piece of cloth to cover your ass.”
Flicking him the bird, I reached down and picked up Ethan’s head by the hair. Good thing these old European vamps tended to grow their hair out—never met one with a crew cut. No idea how I’d pick his head up if he had short hair.
Allan walked over to Clint and hoisted him over his shoulders in one swift move.
“He saved my life.” So did you.
Allan glanced over. His smile widened and his fangs punched out. “Maybe you can thank him later.”
My head tilted to the side. “Bit beyond saving, isn’t he?”
Somehow Allan conveyed a shrug with Clint draped around his shoulders. He glanced down at Ethan’s withering head. “We need to go.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
With my heart stuck in my throat like a dry hairball, I ran into the grand foyer with Allan close behind me. And stopped, nearly causing Allan to collide into my back. In front of us, two figures squared off to fight in the middle of the otherwise empty room, making the space seem enormous. Wick and Tristan in Were form.
I recognized both instantly. Wick’s sweet rosemary scent and Tristan’s citrus and sunshine slammed into my pores and set my mountain lion and wolf grappling with each other for control. I staggered and gripped Allan’s arm as he came to stand beside me.
Settle. I pulled my falcon up close to the surface, so close, my eyes tingled, partially shifting into the bird’s. Using the heightened vision, and newly cleared mind, I scanned the room.
Where was the rest of the pack? Allan’s elite vamp legion? My hearing sharpened, letting in sounds of yelling and bodies crashing into one another beyond the doors. The main fighting had moved outside, then, leaving the two leaders to battle it out here. Wick limped and oozed blood, looking more damaged than Tristan. My chest tightened at the sight and I swallowed. In nature a lone wolf couldn’t compete with a leopard and the same held true for Weres. It didn’t matter how strong and big Wick was on his own, his power diminished without his pack and his alpha dominance held no advantage because Tristan had the feline equivalent. The power they emanated clashed together in the air, a torrent of authority sent my heartbeat racing. I saw the truth, even if I didn’t want to believe it: if no one stepped in, Wick would lose this fight.
My gaze snapped back and forth as they circled each other.
“We need to go,” Allan repeated.
Without another thought, I tossed the decaying head at Allan. He caught it and frowned.
“Hold that for me?” My expression must’ve conveyed my desperation, because he nodded, shifted Clint’s weight across his shoulders and grasped the stringy hair harder.
“I’ll meet you there. When you’re done, fly to Lucien’s. I’ll wait outside as long as possible. After that, you’re on your own.”