Page 63 of Because the Night

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

“Not sure. But I’ll know it when I find it.”

“They left one human to guard me,” I say, thinking aloud. “I know I’m only a newborn. But it still seemed weird. Then there’s how fast you found me, and the fact that Marc wasn’t even in the vicinity.”

“Nico tracked the vehicle they used. Security cameras at The Boulevard and CCTV made the process quite quick and easy.”

“That’s my point.”

Lucas pauses and carefully proceeds to unpick a segment of thread. Some stitching that’s not as neat and perfect as the rest around the bottom of the skirt. From within the section, a silver medallion falls onto the ground. There’s some sort of symbolcarved into it. With words curling around and around on the other side. I’ve always had a good imagination, but there’s no way I am imagining the bad vibes emanating from the thing. Now that it’s out in the open, it’s like ill will flows freely from the medal.

“What is it?” I ask, leaning in to try and read it. However, the writing is in no language I’ve ever seen. “Lucas?”

“Powerful magic intended to counteract the runes and allow our enemies to enter. My brother and his Russian friends must have paid a pretty penny for it.”

The pieces fall into place in my mind and my lip curls in a very vampire-style snarl. “That’s why they kidnapped me…so they could plant that thing on me and have me walk it right on into the house for them.”

He raises his head, and I feel the tug in the middle of my chest. It’s the sire bond being used—and not just on me. As evidenced when Henry and Benedict stride into the room. “Get ready,” says Lucas. “We’re about to have guests.”

Not even Marc is willing to fuck with the sun. Or not too much. When the attack begins, our nearest star has just met the horizon. I can feel it still warning me to keep my head down, to stay hidden or else. It would take a strong will to ignore it. Either that, or a burning hatred nurtured over a thousand or so years and a shitload of money.

Marc must have hired humans to transport him and his people here and bring them inside out of the daylight. Several large vehicles park in the drive. Some sort of vans or trucks or something. I get the feeling we’re about to be seriously outnumbered. Car doors open and close. But there’s no murmur of conversation. Not a single word is said, only footsteps and thesound of heavy boxes being brought inside the house. With the runes negated, there’s nothing to keep them out.

Had we not found the medallion, they probably would have taken us by surprise. I would, in all likelihood, have been asleep and not heardslaughteranddeceptionin the still and silent corner of my mind. Missed the heightened emotions surrounding these words. All of the anticipation and anger.

The others might well have thought they were just from The Thorn Group. Contractors hired to see to the house or garden. Such workers have been coming and going during the daylight hours. There have also been deliveries. So many deliveries. Items Lucas has asked for or Shirley collected for him over the years. It’s late in the day for humans to be here. But certainly not beyond the realm of possibility.

Lucas decided not to destroy the medallion or throw it out the nearest window. This is his chance to finally face his brother on home ground. He wanted me to hide in a tunnel, one of the secret other exits, until it was over. But they’re going to need every hand they can get. Even a shaky one with little to no experience. Nicholas and Leilah will be here as soon as the sun is fully set. But I have the distinct feeling they’re going to be too late.

My anxiety is as high as can be, despite our home seeming so normal. Pillar candles burn in the lounge room belowground, and a record is playing. Billie Holiday sings oh so sweetly. The heavy wooden door at the back of the basement stands open a hand’s width. It’s a welcoming scene, typical of how the days are spent by family members who don’t need to sleep. Ones who believe themselves safe, care of the runes.

Lucas and I stand to the side of the back hallway. As close as he would let me get to the action. But I can see everything and have a pistol in hand. Something I have agreed only to use as a last resort. None of the family is keen to experience friendly fire.Which, to be fair, could very well happen. However, there’s no way I was willing to agree to being unarmed when we’re under attack.

Then suddenly it begins. I didn’t even hear anyone approach the door. These people are seriously good.

The door opens wider, slowly and silently. And the first of Marc’s assassins steps inside with a submachine gun. He sprays the room with wooden bullets, making crystal and porcelain shatter as feathers and fluff from the furniture fills the air. It’s a fucking mess.

Benedict rises from behind the chaise and a dagger flies from his hand. Of course, the point finds its target, burying itself deep in the creature’s eye. The vampire turns to ash where he stands.

Another immediately steps forward to take his place. This time it’s a petite woman wielding her own sharp implements. As evidenced by the throwing star now sticking out of Benedict’s shoulder. But Henry rises from behind an antique credenza with a pistol in hand. One, two, three bullets hit her heart, and she, too, is ash.

It all happens so quickly. To each action, an equally bloody and violent reaction.

One at a time doesn’t seem to be working for them. Or perhaps Marc runs out of patience. Because five vampires rush the room. The first falling at shots from Henry. And the second suddenly has a spear sticking out of his chest. Benedict surges forward with a short sword in hand. He removes a creature’s head from its body with relative ease. But a bullet from another hits Benedict, and he snarls in pain.

Henry drops his pistol and draws a pair of daggers from the leather harness he wears on his chest. It’s like a brutal dance, seeing him and an enemy circle each other. Then knives flash and Henry grunts as a long streak of blood appears on his back. Ouch.

His enemy grins, beyond pleased. They start moving so fast it’s hard to track. Meanwhile, another falls to Benedict’s sword. He strikes and parries with ease, dealing out death with steel. I’ve never witnessed a Viking berserker at work. But the last thing that enemy will ever see is his manic grin.

None of our foes even try to reach me. Makes me wonder if Marc told them he wanted to kill me himself.

Lucas raises his axe and joins the skirmish. The sharp edge of its blade almost tearing the nearest body in two. Such a messy way to kill someone. The blood coating the head of his axe turns to dust in an instant. He was supposed to wait for his brother to appear. To save himself for that fight. But the chance of him standing idly by was never good.

All I can hear is the bang of guns firing and the clang of steel meeting steel. It’s a deafening cacophony. Ash from bodies sits in piles throughout the room. I keep my back to the wall and wait with my gun in hand to see if I can actually help. Though, the three of them are cutting through our enemies with relative ease. Give or take the odd wound from bullet or blade.

Such slaughter is overwhelming. No matter all of the death I’ve seen so recently. That it’s happening here in our home is…there has to be a word stronger than disconcerting. Though, it does kind of sum it up. This was our safe place and now it’s being invaded.

Marc at long last makes his appearance—and yes. This is what I want. For this asshole to have the final death. To be nothing more than an unpleasant old memory. Guess Ihavegotten bloodthirsty in a few different ways.

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