Chapter Fifteen
Mikhail flashed to the back door, but it was locked. A crash to the floor inside and someone grunted.
“Get Izzy and Denny!” screamed Brennalyn, panic and fear so ripe he could taste it through the wall.
Without hesitation, he smashed through the window, glass shattering around him. Brenna stood blocking the hall to where Izzy and Denny slept, wielding a gold-tipped dagger at the ready. Gold, the one element poisonous to vampires. She bared her fangs, even though her two attackers were twice her size. Her sleeve was sliced with bloody claw marks at the shoulder.
The two bulky vampires had turned at the sound of breaking glass. Their eyes were flat black, a sure sign of sanguine furorem. The madness would make them strong and lethal, but not as deadly as him.
“Well, look who it is. Cap’n of the Bloodguard,” said the bigger one, puffing up his chest and creeping forward.
“Take ’im, Jeb.” He turned to Brenna. “I’ll take the pretty little vamp.”
Mikhail didn’t have time to wonder how they knew who he was, but he took about two seconds to process that these were commoners turned vampire, one of the thousands taken by force from villages across Varis for Queen Morgrid’s army. These two were apparently rogues, lost and looking for easy prey. They threatened Brenna and her children. They were dead men.
Mikhail launched at the big one who gripped his wrist before Mikhail could slice his throat. Grappling, Mikhail twisted in a blur, breaking the vampire’s grip and coming up at his back. Before the vampire could even turn his head, Mikhail gripped his throat from behind and shoved his dagger into the base of his skull at an upward angle with a satisfying crunch.
As Mikhail spun back to the second one, Brenna leaped out and slashed, scoring the intruder’s face, a spurt of red spraying the air, flesh sizzling from the cut with gold.
“Bitch!”
Mikhail was on him before he could leap onto her. They tumbled sideways against a sideboard, a vase of flowers shattering as they rolled. Mikhail straddled his chest, fisted his scraggly hair, and slammed his head to the floor. The vamp was skinny but strength pumped hard in his new-born veins, the blood madness doing its work. He gripped Mikhail’s blade before it slid into his jugular. Squeezing the blade, his fingers dripped blood. The creature scented the air, baring his fangs at the smell of his own blood.
The door crashed open. Mikhail faltered. There, silhouetted in the doorway was the frightening figure of Radomir, the queen’s consort and personal guard, his bald head shining by moonlight. The vampire who’d killed Mina’s lady-in-waiting, then imprisoned her in a bloodless sleep. Fury lit within Mikhail’s chest. Several of the queen’s guard in royal colors, blue and silver, strode in with Radomir. The sudden distraction was enough for the skinny vamp to leverage his weight and push Mikhail off.
Mikhail leaped in to a defensive stance. Brenna ran away down the hall toward the children’s room.
Radomir’s gaze followed her before he uttered a silky, menacing command. “Get her.” Four vampires launched down the hall. Radomir pulled a curving scimitar from his belt and instead of coming forward for Mikhail, he flashed down the hall behind the Legionnaires.
At the exact moment, Friedrich, Grant, and Gregoravich blurred into the house.
A thump sounded against the wall in the bedroom.
“Noooo!” screamed Brennalyn.
Friedrich, with death in his eyes, sped toward them. Grant and Gregoravich engaged with the two Legionnaires still standing in the room. Mikhail followed Friedrich.
Friedrich had already snapped the neck of one in the three seconds it took Mikhail to get there. The duke swung his sword and cleaved in two the head of another Legionnaire who was entirely too close to Brenna, who hovered over and whispered to the crumpled, unconscious form of Beatrice.
Radomir stalked toward Izzy and Denny, the children clinging to each other in a bed in the corner, their wide eyes frozen in terror. Mikhail launched at Radomir only to feel a sharp stab in the middle of his back.
Mikhail roared and spun on his attacker. Not a new-born but a seemingly skilled officer of the queen’s guard, his fine blond hair shining by the moonlight streaming through the bedroom window.
“Come on, traitor,” he beckoned, grinning, his canines sharp, but the sword in his hand sharper. “Let’s see what you can do with your little dagger.”
In a flash, Mikhail pulled two finger-size blades from his belt and sent them home. They embedded in the officer’s eyes. He fell back, bellowing and bleeding. Before he could hit the floor, Mikhail was on him.
“More than you can do with your pretty sword,” he answered, shoving his serrated blade into his carotid artery and slicing deep.
“Hold!” screamed Radomir.
Mikhail was on his feet, shoulder to shoulder with Grant, whose face was splattered with crimson—not his own. Friedrich stood in front of Brenna and the fallen form of Beatrice, his fist white-knuckled on the hilt of his bloodstained sword.
But not a soul moved. Radomir held Izzy off the floor, an arm banded at her waist and his scimitar at her tiny, pale throat. The one who’d gotten away from Mikhail had Denny with his claws already pricking the tender skin of his neck, a dirty knife poised over his heart. In one second, they could kill them both.
“Radomir.” Friedrich beckoned his attention to him, Brennalyn standing only a foot behind him. She stared at her two hostage children, fear radiating through the room in her quickened pulse. “Whatever you think to gain by harming my children, think again. You’ll die the second you do.”
The narrow-eyed consort of the queen smiled, his canines thicker and longer than most vampires’, making him look far more monster than man. “You don’t understand, Your Grace.” His gaze flicked to each of them, seeming to gauge his chances. “I didn’t come here to kill the children.”
Friedrich took a step forward, but Radomir tightened his hold and pressed his blade closer. Izzy squeaked, a single drop of blood sliding down her slender throat.
“Mimi,” she cried, tears falling from her pale-blue eyes.
Brennalyn clenched her hands together, her voice shaking. “It’s okay, Izzy darling.”
“What did you come for then?” Friedrich demanded, his beast riding his vocal cords.
Radomir grinned, his eerie gaze sweeping the room, landing on Mikhail, then locking back with Friedrich.
“Not even your Bloodguard can help you now, Your Grace.”
He glanced at his man holding Denny, and with an almost imperceptible nod, he crashed through the glass window, taking Izzy with him. In the same second, the scraggly vampire stabbed his dagger straight into Denny’s chest, the sweet-faced boy’s brown eyes going wide then glassy before he’d even hit the ground.
Brenna’s blood-chilling scream filled the room as she leaped for her fallen boy. The killer had already blurred after his master.
“Stay with them!” Friedrich yelled at Grant, falling to the floor to pull Denny’s limp body into his arms.
Mikhail followed, speeding into the night, rent with screams and clanging metal and the overpowering smell of black smoke. Not just wood smoke but the distinct foul scent of burning flesh. That’s when Mikhail realized this wasn’t an attack on Brennalyn’s home. This was a full-scale attack on the Black Lily. Grant was fast on the heels of Radomir, and Mikhail on the child killer.
Catching his prey as Mikhail leaped a snow-covered log, they tumbled to a stop, once more with Mikhail straddling his chest. He didn’t waste time but slit his carotid artery, finding some overwhelming satisfaction in the sight of his blood spilling onto the white snow.
“Rot in hell, you fucking bastard.”
He laughed on a gurgle. “You shouldn’t’ve taken the princess, Cap’n.” He grinned, mouth bubbling his own blood. “She wasn’t yours to take.”
Icy fear sliced down his spine like the reaper’s blade. He raised his dagger and with a powerful force hacked once, then twice, the killer’s head rolling away.
Mina.
He fled back toward the cottage with horror on his heart, sending up a brief prayer to the stars if anyone was listening on this cold, black night.