Page 96 of Bewitched By a Vampire

The demon prince looked down at his empty arms and then his gaze shot to Grave as he stopped beside Sera. The demon roared, the sound deafening as it rolled across London like thunder.

“You have taken enough family from us… I will not allow you to take any more,” Grave snarled at the demon prince and then quickly checked on the squalling bundle in his arms.

Helena’s blue eyes opened and fixed on Grave. She calmed in an instant and his brother had never looked so relieved. That feeling washed through Night too as Grave handed the baby to Sera, who immediately bundled Helena up into her arms and backed away towards the roof exit. Antoine was waiting for her there and pulled her into his arms as soon as she was close enough, wrapping both her and Helena in the shelter of his embrace.

Snow stood beside him, a picture of wrath as he stared down the demon prince.

The demon stared right back at him, calm and cool, but Night had faced enough enemies to see through his façade. The sight of so many powerful adversaries had rattled him.

If the demon wanted a fight, he would have one. Every person on the rooftop with Night and Lilian were family. Not by blood, but by a powerful bond of friendship that he had discovered existed in this theatre. The people he had met in his time here were as close as a family could be, always watched out for each other and took care of each other, and they had faced enemies far more powerful than this demon in their time.

They had faced an angel incursion—a war the vampires, fae, wolf shifter and angel of Vampirerotique had won.

Aurora’s green-to-blue eyes glowed in the low light as she narrowed them on the demon prince, the petite angel looking ready to cut him down—a look that didn’t suit the normally gentle female.

The bare-chested demon flexed the onyx talons of his gauntlets as he shifted his focus back to Grave, his pupils nothing more than thin vertical slits in the centres of his black irises, blazing gold in the darkness.

Grave looked at Night and shook his head, issuing a silent command that had Night wanting to growl and bare fangs at him. The worry that shone in Grave’s blue eyes was enough to have Night staying put, even though it was a struggle to stop himself from pushing through the crowd to reach his brother and tell him that he wasn’t going to stand by and let him do this alone.

It really became a struggle when Snow stepped forwards, the grim look on the white-haired vampire’s face making it clear it wouldn’t be wise of his brother to try to stop him from fighting. Snow wanted to protect his family too.

When Grave nodded, Night really wanted to growl. He scowled at his brother, hurt arrowing through him, even when he knew Grave was only trying to protect him. Grave wasn’t questioning his strength or his abilities. He was just trying to keep him safe. Lilian squeezed his hand and he turned his head towards her, gazed down into her eyes and heard the silent words they held. He stole the comfort she offered with that gesture and look.

Snow and Grave faced the demon.

The onyx-haired male growled through sharp teeth and held his hand out before him, and the pommel of a black blade rose out of the flat roof. The huge broadsword slowly travelled upwards, the blade seeming to go on forever as it materialised, and then it finally tapered to a point. The demon twisted his hand, took hold of the black-and-red hilt, and snarled as he hefted it in front of him, pointing it at Grave and Snow.

And Isla.

She drifted closer to them, her twin curved blades drawn and clutched tightly in her hands.

A war cry left her lips. “Nulla Misericordia!”

The motto of the Preux Chevaliers.

No Mercy.

The demon turned on her with a roar.

The phantom launched herself at him, turning solid as her twin blades clashed with his sword, blocking it and driving it back. She lashed out with her blades, catching him across his armoured thigh with one and just above his hip with the other. A thin ribbon of red formed where she had cut him, and the male twisted, planted his left foot behind him and swept his blade upwards, slicing through the air.

Snow was there before it could reach Isla, his own sword striking the black blade, sending it back the way it had come and filling the night with the ring of metal clashing with metal.

The demon shifted his focus to Snow.

Grave launched his own attack, drawing his katana and rushing around behind the demon. He went from ghostly to solid and snarled as he slashed up the demon’s back, catching one wing and ripping the leathery membrane.

The male flapped those huge wings, battering Grave with them and driving him back.

Each second that ticked past, Night found it harder to stop himself from entering the fray. He had to do something useful. Something that could help those who weren’t included in the fight. He had to protect them in his own way.

He turned to the others.

“Antoine, get everyone out of the theatre.” Snow didn’t take his eyes off the demon as he issued that command.

“I am not leaving,” Antoine snapped.

Snow grimaced, huffed and then sighed as he readied his blade and the demon turned on him. “Please. I need to know you are all safe. Think of Helena.”

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