Authors: Jeaniene Frost
I lurched toward that knife, sending more fiery arcs through my body. It felt like my ribs, collarbone, and left arm were fractured, plus I had more cuts than I could count from all the broken glass. Still, I was lucky. Without the side and front air bags, I’d be dead. I hadn’t been wearing a seat belt since I wanted to grab Sandra in case she tried anything. Little did I know the danger came from the front seat, not the back.
Grunts of agony escaped me as I hoisted myself over the broken glass into the front of the limo. Once there, I saw through the smashed windshield that a tree had stopped our descent down the cliff. That was the good news. The bad news was the orange flickers licking up the underside of the hood.
I yanked the knife from Oscar’s body, intending to cut the seat belts from Gretchen and Sandra, when noise outside made me freeze. Someone was coming, and I wasn’t naive enough to think it was rescuers.
I licked the blood-coated knife so fast that I cut my tongue, but before that pain fully registered, it vanished. In the seconds it took me to lick the other side, my whole body hurt less. By the time Shrapnel ripped off the passenger side door, I was crouched in front of Gretchen and Sandra, holding the knife in one hand while electricity crackled from the other. He immediately leapt back several feet, body tensed to dodge anything I aimed at him.
“Why?” I spat.
Half of his shirt and jacket hung in tatters, the red-stained slash showing where my whip had penetrated. Despite the severity of the wound, it hadn’t killed him. It had only slowed him until he healed enough to come back and finish the job.
“Because now you know,” he said in a hard voice.
“I don’t mean this,” I said, a jerk of my head indicating the ruined limousine. “Why did you betray Vlad?”
“I didn’t intend to.”
Now his voice was almost a whisper. Despair skipped across his mocha features, followed by weary resolve.
“None of this was supposed to happen. You think I wanted to kill my friends in that car? I don’t even want to kill you, but I have no choice.”
I raised my right hand higher. “You so much as twitch and I’ll cut you in half for real this time.”
He was too far away for me to attempt it now, but if he came closer, he’d be in range. I didn’t dare risk charging him due to the steep incline, plus that would leave Gretchen and Sandra helpless. Instead, I waited for him to lunge at me with his inhuman speed, but as the seconds ticked by and Shrapnel didn’t move, I grew suspicious. Sure, he knew I wasn’t bluffing, but it wouldn’t take long for word of the crash to reach Vlad. He had to know that, so why wasn’t he at least attempting to—
Then the wind blew a noxious fume my way. Once I smelled it, I understood. Shrapnel didn’t have to move to kill me. All he had to do was wait for the fire to reach the leaking gas tank.
“I
f you run now, you might make it before Vlad gets here,” I said, switching tactics. I couldn’t free Gretchen and Sandra
and
fight off Shrapnel before the car blew. We both knew that.
“It’s already too late. You didn’t die in the crash and it took too long for me to heal before I reached you.”
Again he sounded more weary than villain-ish. He even sighed as though burdened beyond what he could bear.
“Now all that’s left is to ensure your death.”
“What did I ever do to you?” I snapped, hoping someone from the mansion had seen the smoke and help was on the way.
“It’s what you will do if you live.” His gaze shifted to my right hand. “My death is already certain. Hers is not.”
Her
. I took a last stab at making him run or charge me.
“You mean the pretty brunette vampire?” I said, betting it all that it was the same woman I’d glimpsed in my vision. “Hate to break it to you, but she was found out days ago. Vlad’s already got people hunting her down. We just didn’t know who the traitor was.”
“Lies,” Shrapnel hissed.
He took a step forward and I held my breath.
Come on, just a little closer!
“How’s this for lies? She’s five foot four, curvier than me, thick walnut-colored hair, lilting accent . . . want me to go on?”
I couldn’t, but as the scent of gasoline increased, so did my desperation. I debated charging him despite the steep hill and his incredible speed. Then he took another step closer.
“How did you break her spell to reach her?”
“Oh, it was easy,” I said, thinking it was a damn good thing Shrapnel wasn’t a mind reader because I had no idea what he was talking about. “Where do you think I got all this straight black hair from? I’m one quarter Cherokee and my grandmother was a powerful medicine woman. She taught my mother and me all kinds of mystical tricks, so your little bitch’s spell was no match for the magic
I
know.”
Except for the one quarter Cherokee part, the rest was all lies. I held my breath, hoping that Shrapnel didn’t realize that.
“Don’t speak of her that way!” he roared.
He took another step forward and that was my chance. I exploded toward him, snapping all the electricity I could muster into a whip that shone as bright as lightning. He lunged to avoid it, but even his speed wasn’t enough. That dazzling cord caught him in the hip and continued all the way through.
His legs dropped like felled tree limbs, pitching the rest of him forward with his momentum. He ended up landing on me, his weight knocking the breath from me. Before I could push him off, he began pummeling me while his fangs tore at anything close enough to bite.
I screamed at the brutal double assault. Being almost cut in half hadn’t diminished Shrapnel’s ferocity. Instead, he seemed almost demonic in his determination to kill me. A stunning blow caved in my rib cage, cutting off my scream. The savageness of the pain stole all thought, triggering blind survival instinct. I didn’t consciously grab him and send a current into him. All I knew was that his weight was suddenly gone and I was transported into a decrepit alley.
The streetlights were broken, but I didn’t need them to see as I strode down the narrow path between the buildings.
“You killed the bomb maker, too? When will you stop taking such reckless, stupid risks!”
My bellow drew several glances. I didn’t care. Most vampires avoided places where the homeless dwelled. They smelled too much to make eating them palatable.
“It wasn’t too risky” was my lover’s unruffled reply. “I took care of it, dearie. He’s dead, ending any chance this will be traced back to us.”
Fury made me grip the phone before I forcibly relaxed my hand so it wouldn’t shatter and end our call.
“If you hadn’t used him to kill Leila, he wouldn’t have needed taking care of. I wouldn’t have told you where she was if I knew what you intended. If Vlad doesn’t believe the explosion was an accident, he won’t rest until he finds her killers.”
“You’re overreacting,” she said, and the boredom in her tone hit me like a splash of acid. “Even if there are suspicions, they won’t lead anywhere. Whatever she might have been worth to him alive, she’s less dangerous to us dead.”
My laugh was harsh. “One day, you’ll tell me the real reason you don’t want Vlad to know about us. Until then, the only motive I see for you killing Leila is jealousy.”
I’d intended the accusation to sting, but I hadn’t anticipated the venom in her response.
“My reasons don’t matter. What
does
matter is you are the one who gave me her location. He’ll kill you for that, dearie, and only after years of torturing you. Unless that sounds appealing, you have no choice but to keep this a secret.”
I hung up, my sense of despair equal to the knowledge that she was right. Vlad would respond only one way to my part in Leila’s death, and he wouldn’t stop there. He’d do the same to her, and despite my anger, I couldn’t let that happen. I loved her, and if lying would keep her safe, then I would lie.
The alley dissolved and I expected to fall back into my own reality, but without even trying to, I linked to Shrapnel’s accomplice next. For a split second, I saw her, wearing a skirt suit and reclined on a couch with a martini in her hand. Before I could focus on her face, her features blurred, leaving nothing but a blob surrounded by lustrous walnut-colored hair.
Then a wave of dizziness assailed me, as if someone just whacked me over the head with a two-by-four. I dropped the link, returning to the present where I was curled on my side, coughing between tortured gasps for air. Blood dribbled from my mouth and the pressure in my chest increased until it was excruciating.
This wasn’t from the beating Shrapnel had given me. No, I recognized this pain. My abilities had hit the lethal zone, and the only vampire near enough to heal me wanted me dead.
Frustration made me want to howl at the unfairness of it all. I was only supposed to use my abilities on Sandra to see if she was guilty or innocent. I hadn’t meant to pull Shrapnel’s worst sin, let alone link to the bitch who’d started this whole mess with the carnival bomb. Now those things would kill me.
A groan made me open my eyes. Through a haze of red, I caught a glimpse of Shrapnel. The current I’d blasted into him had thrown him over a dozen feet away. Both his arms were now missing in addition to his legs, and his skin looked like meat someone had put through a grinder. Despite all the damage from the current, he was still alive. Then his head lolled toward me and our eyes met.
A sliver of surprise threaded through my fading consciousness. I hadn’t expected any empathy from him, but I was unprepared for the mixture of relief and pride in his expression. Relief made sense; he wanted me dead, and from the crushing pain in my chest, he’d soon get his wish. But why pride? He had nothing to do with my abilities overloading enough to put the final nails in my coffin . . .
Far too late, I figured it out.
How did you break her spell to reach her?
Shrapnel had asked. I thought he meant the brunette vampire had cooked up something magical to prevent me from getting a clear look at her face if I linked to her, but it was more than that.
The spell was also meant to kill me.
“L
eila!”
My sister’s voice cut through the agony that made me want to stay in the fetal position or die, whichever hurt less.
Gretchen. Sounds afraid
penetrated past my pain, followed by an ominous memory.
The limo’s on fire
.
I pushed myself to my knees, a gurgling scream escaping me. Through vision that was starting to blacken, I caught a gleam of orange. The flames had spread farther up the vehicle. They could reach the leaking gas tank any second.
I lunged at the limo, blood spewing from my mouth as I tried to breathe through the almost paralyzing pressure in my chest. My vision was too blurry to find the knife I’d dropped, and the pain made me feel like I was on fire. Maybe I was and didn’t realize it. Still, I couldn’t stop. I focused on my sister’s screams and they were like a shot of adrenaline, giving me the strength to lunge forward again, and again. The side of the car hit me in the face as I staggered into it.
My vision was now totally black and Gretchen’s voice was fainter, but my mind still worked. With my left hand, I fumbled until I found the lock for the seat belt. Then I dragged my right hand over my arm until it reached the spot. With the last bit of energy I had, I sent a bolt of electricity through it.
The sudden thump of weight onto my shoulders was the most wonderful thing I’d ever felt.
“Save Sandra,” I tried to say, but all that came out was an unintelligible gurgle.
Something shoved me roughly, blasting more pain into me.
Had Shrapnel come back?
I wondered, and then didn’t care as a lovely numbness began to creep over me.
Not good
, a shred of rationale warned.
Don’t pass out! You won’t wake up!
I tried to force my way past the darkness and the addictive bliss of diminishing pain. It felt like swimming in quicksand—the more I struggled, the deeper I sank. Then consciousness returned at the brutal sensation of being dragged. My ribs felt like twigs someone snapped within me, but I managed a few ragged gulps of air. That and the fresh deluge of pain chased away the ominous lethargy. Then a thunderous noise snapped my eyes open, an orange haze momentarily blinding me.
The fire had reached the gas tank at last.
Through the tiny slits that remained of my vision, I saw I was now behind some trees, their trunks taking the brunt of the exploding debris. Sandra was unconscious nearby, and Gretchen . . .
I had to be hallucinating. If I wasn’t, then my sister was about twenty feet away, crouched on top of Shrapnel. She had the knife he’d killed Oscar with sticking out of his chest, and though her expression showed she was terrified, both her hands were firmly wrapped around the hilt.
“Don’t even think of trying anything,” she gasped.
Shrapnel’s eyes were fixed on her while the sticklike things growing from his shoulders and hips twitched. Soon his arms and legs would be fully regenerated and the damage to his insides healed. I was about to warn Gretchen that he
would
try something when three forms dropped next to them with the abruptness of crashing meteors. The fourth landed next to me, green eyes ablaze and dark hair whipping wildly as he tore his wrist open before shoving it against my mouth.
Vlad. Someone must’ve spotted the smoke after all.
As I began to drink from the deep slash, Vlad’s guards hauled Shrapnel up, one of them removing the knife before he could spare himself by taking his own life. Then my vision went completely dark. I swallowed again, but the pain wracking my body didn’t lessen. Instead, it grew until it felt like razors were being shoved into my skull while the tightness in my chest spread to engulf the rest of my body. I couldn’t swallow anymore. I couldn’t even summon the strength to take another breath. When coldness swept over me, replacing the pain with its icy caress, I knew he’d arrived too late.