She grabbed his arm to pull the knife away. She heard Angus shout, then the vampire's arm turned to dust, and his knife clattered to the ground. She turned to see Angus behind her, his claymore coated with the dust of the first vampire.
"Thanks." She bent down to retrieve the fallen dagger. There were two male vampires left—Alek and another one. The woman was standing nearby, hatred glimmering in her dark eyes. She raised a wooden blowpipe to her mouth.
"Watch out!" Emma shouted.
Angus raised his claymore, then stiffened. A shocked look crossed his face. "Emma, run," he whispered.
She stepped back, reluctant to leave. She gasped when Angus's claymore slipped from his hand. "Angus!"
He collapsed onto the pier. A dart protruded from his back.
The two male vampires zoomed toward Emma. She slashed at the first one with her dagger, but he dodged. Alek seized her from behind. The first one kicked the knife from her hand, then punched her in the stomach. She sagged against Alek for only a moment before she kicked and struggled. The first one retrieved the knife and handed it to Alek.
The woman strode toward Angus, speaking with a Russian accent. "I should have killed you years ago." With a booted foot, she shoved him onto his back
Emma winced at the thought of the dart getting pushed farther in.
The woman leaned over Angus. "You can hear me, can't you? The nightshade paralyzes you, but you can still see and hear." She placed her foot on his cheek and pressed his head toward Emma. "See that? We have captured your mortal whore." She kicked him in the ribs with the pointed toe of her boot.
"Stop it!" Emma struggled, but both male vampires held her tight. She grew still when she noticed Angus's face. He was watching her, his eyes filled with pain. Oh God, what had she done? She'd led them into a trap.
The woman gave Emma a disgusted look, then grasped Angus's chin with her long red fingernails and forced his face back to her. "Don't look at her. You could have owned the world with me. But when I asked you to kill one puny little mortal, you refused. And here you are, killing your own kind for what? A worthless mortal bitch? "
"Katya, enough!" Alek yelled. "Torture him later. We need to transport these two before it's too late."
"All right, all right." Katya leaned over to grab Angus's arm, and they both vanished.
"No!" Emma screamed. She kicked at her captors.
Alek pulled her tight against him and pressed the knife to her neck. "We've never been there before, Uri. You need to call."
Uri punched in a number on his phone."Allo?"
"Stop!"
Emma glanced up and spotted Robby and Giacomo on the roof, moving toward them with swords in their hands.
"Release her!" Robby yelled.
"Come any closer, and I'm slitting her throat." Alek turned toward Uri, dragging Emma with him. "Grab on to us. Let's go!"
Uri grabbed Emma's arm and spoke into his phone, "Paris, nous arrivons."
Emma glanced up at the stricken faces of Robby and Giacomo. "Paris!" she shouted just before everything went black.
CHAPTER 19
Emma was just becoming aware of her surroundings when she felt a knife prick her neck. She winced, but refused to give Alek the pleasure of hearing her cry out in pain.
"You have a loud mouth," he hissed in her ear.
"Is the mortal giving you trouble?" Katya asked.
"No." Alek yanked on Emma's hair and tilted her head to expose her neck. "I just wanted a little taste." He leaned down and licked the drop of blood from her neck. Her stomach twinged. Still, Alek's initial reaction gave her hope. He was pissed that she'd yelled out Paris, so most likely, she'd steered Robby and Giacomo in the right direction. She also noted that Alek and Uri neglected to tell Katya what she'd done. They were probably afraid of incurring the queen bitch's wrath.
Emma quickly surveyed the scene. They appeared to be in an old wine cellar. Candlelight flickered from rusty iron sconces along stone walls. Wooden racks cradled row after row of dusty wine bottles. The air was chilly and smelled of ancient mold. Angus lay in a neglected heap on the hard stone floor.
"Zhis woman is zhe infamous slayer?" a man asked in a French accent. He approached Emma with a mincing gait, studying her with eyes that looked like black slits in his puffy white face. "Amazing. She has killed four of your friends, non?"
"Six," Emma corrected him. "I've killed six of her little minions, and it was pathetically easy."