Page 82 of Redeemed
Judging by the number of cars in the lot, we’re still badly outnumbered. “That’s okay,” I murmur. “We’ll cut off the head and the rest will scatter.”
“That’s the plan.” Connor pops the lock, ready to rumble. “I’ll carry the Princess, and you take on Jacques.”
I reach for his hand. “Amore mio.” Emotion chokes the sound to a whisper.
“We’ll bring him home,mo shíorghrá.Let’s go.”
We don’t have a plan, per se. The ground rises between the parking lot and the beach and we intend to fan out, keeping within sight of one another and surrounding the action. Now that we’re here, a heavy sense of foreboding blots out the sound of the waves and the scent of sea air.
Jacques doesn’t just have an advantage in numbers. He’s calling up some heavy hitting power, the kind of thing I’d rather avoid.
But he staked my first scion, and he’s got David. He will die.
The witches climb to the highest point at the south end of the parking lot, standing in a small circle and facing each other. I jog over, carrying Sheena’s stakes with a strap looped around my waist. With a nod, Albion Bird hides them.
Marcus joins Lydia and her wolves, their numbers bolstered by members of two other local packs. Daddy Randolph Collins must not have been amused when he found out both his kids were being detained by a crazed vampire. If he’d had another day or two, he would have sent us an army. There may be others in the shadows, vampires from the viscount or one of the other area sires, but they’re unlikely to step in until the winner is clear.
As it is, we number about thirty, maybe thirty-five. Not enough to take on Jacques’ crew, but hopefully we won’t have to. Hopefully we’ll distract Jacques with the fake Princess and get David, Abby, and Cliffe away from him. Then I’m going to do what I must.
Connor comes up behind me, carrying the Princess. We share a glance and at his nod, we head for the beach.
If Jacques has assigned anyone to watch for intruders, we don’t see them. We scramble around rocks and tufts of beach grass, using moonlight to navigate. The sky is clear and the steady pulse of the waves undercuts the sound of voices. Many voices. Easily one hundred.
I reach the top of the hill, Connor on one side and Sheena on the other. The smell of gasoline blends with salt and fish and brimstone. The beach is crowded with all manner of supernatural creatures. Shifters, some on four legs, some on two; more of the strigoi we’d dealt with at the house; pixies, coyotes, and at least one troll.
Jacques stands at the center of it all, leaning on the arm of a slight young woman. He gives the impression of weakness, except for the dreadful power pulsing from him.
David is beside him, surrounded by a posse of strigoi. Abby and Cliffe are further away with their own escort. Oddly, the sullen vampire who’d been with Delia Packard stands behind Jacques, his smile as disturbing as anything else in the scene.
Lydia points to Abby and Cliffe and a cadre of wolves move in their direction.
There’s a sharp squeal and a flurry of excited laughter. Cliffe stumbles as if someone has smacked her. Before they can cause any more trouble, I holler, “Stop.”
My voice carries, amplified by my anger and fear. I stride down the dunes. The attention being directed toward me gives me even more reason to confront the creature who made me as I am.
“Jacques Betancourt, what you are doing here is evil.” My words bring a hush over the crowd and I press on. “You are defying the laws of nature, and I intend to stop you.”
“You do?” Jacques’ laughter is unhinged. The crowd parts so we’re standing opposite one another, separated by several hundred feet. “Your argument is lacking. In the first place, you and I break the laws of nature simply by existing, so I hardly see how one little spell does any more damage to your precious laws.”
“If it’s just a little spell, then you shouldn’t need an audience. Send everyone home. Come on, David. Let’s leave him to his little spell.”
More shattered laughter. “Don’t go anywhere, wolf. I’ve already told Trajan what it will cost to get his lover back.” He points at me. “Bring me the Princess’s body and he’s yours.”
Connor steps up beside me. “She’s here.” Together, we walk toward him, those who have sworn him allegiance crowding around us. Every step is harder than the last one. His power buffets us, stinging like windblown sand.
We stop some ten feet from him. The space between my shoulder blades itches, as if waiting for a knife. I’m holding onto one of the stakes, but loosely, keeping it low. Jacques releases his hold on the woman supporting him and totters in our direction.
“There she is,” he says, nothing close to sanity left in his expression. His eyes are unnaturally wide, his cheeks shadowed and sunken. He comes close enough to touch the Princess’s arm with clawed and jagged fingernails.
He points at the pyre, the ten-foot pile of wood next to the water. The tide is out, so it’ll be a while before the waves reach it. “Take her,” he whispers, his smile turning sly. “Take her to the top of the pyre.”
Connor and I exchange glances. This wasn’t in our playbook, but the wood’s not burning yet, so he should be able to leave the Princess’s body and make it down. I don’t like it, but I don’t see a way around it.
Connor turns toward the pyre and again the crowd shifts, giving him a clear view. There don’t appear to be stairs, so he’ll have to climb up the stacked bundles of wood. Some of the wood glistens in the moonlight, the source of the gasoline smell.
“Be quick,” I say, a sense of dread building.
Behind me somewhere, David says “No,” the word cut off sharply. The stake grows heavy. If Jacques has done anything to David, I’ll…
