Chapter Twenty-Six
I coughed, the world coming back online, my blood burning with a thousand volts. “Did you…did you say love?”
“Shit,” Aiden Blackthorne said from behind me. “He’s falling apart.”
I opened my eyes and blinked at Seb, lying next to me, his finger truncated as if the tip had broken off, blood trickling from the end. But that wasn’t what shocked me.
He looked like a sand sculpture ready to collapse.
“No!” I shot onto my knees and reached for him, then drew abruptly back. He didn’t need a hug right now. He needed healing. Which meant he needed—
“Blood!” I cried, trying to grab Blackthorne by the wrist. The Northwest vampire had turned to defend himself from an attacking thug, growing claws like knives and taking off the attacker’s head. Camille and Rebecca fought almost on top of us. “Blackthorne! Give Seb his blood back, now.”
“Right.” Blackthorne stepped up to Seb, misted his hand up to his wrist and plunged it into Seb’s chest.
Almost immediately my lover’s skin stopped looking like crumbling gray oatmeal. Seconds more and it returned to its fine texture, Seb’s color returning a moment later. Blackthorne stopped twice to deal with another two attackers, carving flesh with shorter claws that were still effective. After each fell, he returned to Seb and pumped more blood into him.
My lover’s muscles filled out, his hair darkened, and the lines on his face disappeared.
I couldn’t stop myself. I reached out with a finger to his face. Traced from nose to mouth, where mere moments ago age had lined him.
…
Seb woke filled with dark energy, growing every second as his ancient blood was shunted directly into him, enriching every cell.
Vampire. Brie. He sat up abruptly, ready to tear the vampire into shreds…it was Blackthorne.
Brie sat back on her heels. “You’re back to normal.”
“Apparently the cavalry arrived.” He nodded at Blackthorne, who turned and chopped his hand through an attacking vampire. The ranks of enemies near them had diminished.
“Get in here and help fight!” Nikos roared. The male’s shirt was punctured in several places, and blood wicked into the holes. Any injuries he’d sustained had apparently already healed.
Seb exchanged a grim look with Blackthorne, who nodded. “Let’s get these goons mopped up then take down the ones inside—and capture that fucker Owun.” The youngster would still be lying unconscious in the control booth. Seb couldn’t wait to wake him up.
Blackthorne swept up a pair of discarded knives and handed Seb one. Seb grabbed Brie’s hand and fought one-handed, intending to lead her to safety then leave her to fight two-handed, but he’d almost lost her. At that moment, he couldn’t stand the idea of separating from her at all.
The fight was short and bloody. When it was over, they’d littered the lawn with vampire body parts.
Thor and Sera, her arms circling her mate, limped over. His throat was crusted with a line of blood, and when he twisted briefly, it revealed his back streaked with blood and grass stains. Seb read a story there, of Thor going down and his mate dragging him away from the fight.
Brie gave Seb’s hand a squeeze. “We’ll keep the door open. You go mop things up inside.”
With Sera and Brie holding the doors open, Thor stationed to protect them, Seb finally let go.
The fight against the goons in gas masks was even shorter and more vicious.
Nobody could find a way to shut off the gas. Nikos finally jumped up onto the roof and put his fist through the air conditioning unit. The air circulation coughed and died.
Seb came outside and stood there a moment, breathing deep of the clean air.
Blackthorne joined them. “I found Owun in the control booth, out cold. I secured him.”
Seb said, “Elias?”
The other male closed his eyes. Since he’d drunk the Ancient One’s blood, Blackthorne could use the smell/taste to home in on Elias, if he was anywhere nearby.
A moment later, Blackthorne frowned. His eyes opened, and he shook his head.
“Damn,” Seb said softly. Either Elias had been taken far away, or…
He went back inside and began to walk the floor, searching among the blood and body parts. Blackthorne followed him. Seeking to distract himself from the wretchedness in his belly, Seb said, “Why’d you appear outside? You disappeared through the floor of the hall.”
“Yeah, I tried to mist up but the whole building stinks like death. I had to come out the long way.”
“How did you manage to shake off Cleomenes’s poison?”
The shadowy male might’ve stood shorter, but his glide was no less dangerous. “That fucker poisoned my best friend. The doctors here reverse-engineered the poison to understand it—but I didn’t want to understand it, I wanted to beat it. I started dosing myself with the stuff to build up immunity. Even then, I’d be dead if not for your freaking boiling ancient blood.”
“I thank you for my freaking boiling ancient blood back. You need to declare yourself victor, and grant yourself the rights of spoil.”
“Yeah, about that. I’ve got my hands full with the Northwest alliance. You’re the ancient—”
“You don’t need to be ancient to lead.” Seb stopped midfloor and gave the male his full attention. “You proved that.” Anyone who could do what Blackthorne had done deserved to be head of vast portions of a continent.
Blackthorne grimaced and shook his head. “I’m more of a fighter than a diplomat. Speaking of, I’m going to go wait for Owun to wake up.”
Seb searched the entire building without finding either Elias’s body or an indication of where he’d gone. Owun’s thugs must have done something to him. Seb got to interrogate the youngling after all. He found himself smiling viciously.
In the platform booth, Blackthorne’s full attention was on a half-conscious Owun, zip-tied to one of the chairs.
“Where is he?” Seb snapped at the treacherous male. “Where is Elias?”
Owun raised a shaky head, his eyes whirling. But when Seb snapped the question again, the young vampire simply grinned. “How should I know? I’ve been unconscious.”
“You had a plan. You and that Shadow Lord. You lured me here, and Elias was a bonus.”
“You?” Owun had the nerve to laugh. “Aren’t you the big ego. My lord knew you’d try to cover up the murders, but how could he know you’d come here? No, I think rather you were the bonus.”
“Damn it, the target was Elias?” The puzzle pieces rearranged in Seb’s mind. Cleomenes had drunk living ancient blood—but he wasn’t smart or powerful enough to capture an ancient. He’d bought one from the Shadow Lord. And where did the Shadow Lord get a pliable ancient?
Drugging, kidnapping, and holding the ancient captive.
Horror enough, but there was worse. Maybe not even simply draining him, once and for all, to make a Soul Stealer. Maybe the Shadow Lord got his kicks taking a little off the top. An ancient would replenish his or her vampire strength quickly. The Shadow Lord could keep draining just a little for months or years.
Or even centuries.
Furious and terrified, Seb slapped the other vampire’s face, torqueing his head until vertebrae cracked.
Owun’s creepy smile didn’t change.
“Where is Elias?”
A phone’s ring, coming up the stairs, turned his head. Brie mounted the platform, her backpack over her shoulder, holding out a phone. “It’s yours. I forgot I had it.” She offered it to him. “Call from New York. I don’t think it’s the first time it rang.”
Premonition sang terrifyingly through Seb’s veins. He answered, “Lorenzo?”
“Klaus,” came the short reply. “But you’ll see my master soon enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“He found out about the last murder. He was livid. He took his crack lieutenants and flew out several hours ago. The moment he hits Meiers Corners—half an hour, at most—if Elias doesn’t have incontrovertible proof he’s not behind the murders, Lorenzo is going to war.” He ended the call.
Seb hung up, chilled.
Elias was gone. And war between Iowa and New York was imminent.