Page 112 of Blood Mosaic

One of the few blood siblings in Oleg’s druzhina, his brother was a powerful and silent earth vampire with an affinity for metal.

Mika signed across the street, and four wind vampires took to the air, shooting into the darkness and alighting on the roof of the warehouse with silent feet, Rudov carried by the largest flyer.

Oleg met his brother’s eyes across the darkness and nodded. “Now.”

Pouring from the shadows, Oleg’s people sped across the street. Two cracks rang in the darkness—probably from Ludmila—and one armed guard’s head exploded. Then the next.

Rudov gripped the metal roof in his hands, and Oleg could feel his amnis flex as the vampire tore open the roof of the warehouse before he dropped inside, followed by the four wind vampires.

Shouts came from inside the warehouse just as half a dozen water vampires scrambled easily over the gate and the barbed wire. As they passed, they scraped their flesh and the scent of blood filled the air.

Oleg’s people did not stop.

Mika ran forward—Oksana emerging from the shadows to join him—and in a singular movement, the two soldiers tore open the gates and tossed the twisted metal across the road.

Oleg waited for the sound of chaos to reach his waiting ears. He walked deliberately across the street, his axe lifted to his shoulder, and let his fire come alive.

He stepped over four human bodies in the yard—several of their limbs had been ripped from their bodies.

The Albanians wouldn’t have crossed into his territory without tacit permission of the Greeks. Oleg had a message to send.

Double doors were open, but no light came from the shadowy death trap where the Albanian vampire mob was caught.

He brought a ball of fire to his hands, tossing flames at the trucks sitting parked in the yard. One burst into flame, and a few moments later the second caught on fire.

There were shouts and screams from inside the warehouse as Oleg crossed the threshold, the fire burning along his arms the only light other than the occasional muzzle flash and a burning trash can.

He stepped over two twitching vampire bodies with their heads detached.

A foolish human shot at Oleg from the shadows, hitting him in the shoulder, and he charged.

He moved in the blink of an eye, grabbing the human from behind a pillar with inhuman speed. The man screamed as Oleg grabbed him, pulled his head to the side, and sank his teeth into the man’s neck before he twisted it, waiting for the neck to snap before he let the body drop to the ground.

Just in time for a water vampire to come at him from the shadows, pulling a cloud over Oleg’s fire in an attempt to douse his flames.

But the immortal only had the damp night air to work with, and when Oleg let his flames loose, his older amnis easily overpowered the misty element of the water vampire, who abandoned elemental attack to charge Oleg with a curved, short saber aimed at his neck.

Oleg lifted his axe, relaxed his fire, and swung, rage-filled adrenaline powering his oldest weapon as it arced toward the vampire’s neck.

Sword met axe, and the ancient clang of metal rang through the dark warehouse, adding to the screams and cries of the humans and vampires fighting.

Oleg stomped his foot, bent his knee, and wrenched his axe handle, pulling the curved edge of the other vampire’s saber close, slicing his own arm open as he grabbed at the sword hand of the vampire he was fighting with his flaming left hand.

Oleg’s fire rushed to heal the open wound on his arm as he yanked the sword away from his opponent. Then he swung his axe down, slicing off the man’s leg below the knee.

The man screamed, and Oleg had every intention of taking off his head when Mika yelled, “Wait!”

He snarled at the intrusion into his bloodlust but pulled back. Instead of his neck, Oleg sliced off his right arm and let the vampire drop to the floor, crippled but alive.

Oleg turned and surveyed the wreckage his men had left. The scent of human blood was heavy in the air, and the floor was black-red with the excess of battle.

His people were flush with the blood of their enemies, and the thrilling rush of battle permeated the air.

Oleg raised his axe and held it over his head.“Druzhina!”he shouted with a guttural roar.

“Krov!”

“Druzhina!”

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