Page 20 of The Hawk and the Nightingale

Amalie pursed her lips at Hawk, her infuriating, stubborn, wonderful man. “If you die it’s your own fault. I won’t mourn you, not for a single second.”

“Then I had better not die.” Hawk stood, and began stacking up empty plates. “Since we want the vampires to starve, we should probably empty out the fridge and the concession stand before nightfall.”

After Iveta left to meet the clan, with her two mortal men in tow, Amalie stood in the club’s DJ booth and gazed at the empty dance floor. The Moravian Ballroom was massive, easily twice as large as its namesake dance halls, and despite Hawk’s confidence she agreed with Iveta. There was only a very small chance that this plan would go well. There was a much larger chance that either Amalie or Hawk would die.

And, of course, there was a strong chance they would die together.

A chill rolled down her spine. Amalie rubbed warmth back into her arms as Hawk entered the booth, his boots making hollow sounds against the metal floor. He embraced her from behind, and she leaned back into the comfort of him.

“We’re both going to die,” Amalie declared.

He kissed the soft spot behind her ear. “Will you dance with me in the afterlife?”

“No. I will yell at you for being so foolish as to get involved with vampires.”

“Then we’ll dance after the yelling?”

Amalie tried not to smile, but Hawk’s confidence made it difficult. Add to that the soft kisses he pressed to her neck, and it was almost impossible. “Do you take anything seriously?”

“On the contrary,” Hawk said, his warm breath sending shivers down her skin, “I am very serious about kissing you.” Amalie laughed, and turned to face him.

A crash sounded overhead. Hawk shoved Amalie behind him as Marek burst through the skylight amid a shower of broken glass. With a single hand Marek sent Hawk hurtling out of the booth and skidding across the dance floor. Amalie lunged after Hawk, but Marek grabbed her shoulder.

“I was told you would be singing, my nightingale,” Marek growled, his fingers digging into her flesh as he used his other hand to drag his sharp, talon-like fingernails down her neck. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard your lovely voice.”

“Not long enough.” Amalie spat at his feet, but made no move to evade him. She hoped if Marek kept his attention on her, Hawk would have time to escape. As always, Marek knew her next move almost before she did.

“Thinking to shield your mortal?” Marek struck as fast as a viper, and had her by the neck as her feet dangled above the floor. “Don’t worry. I’ll kill him, but not until after I kill you.”

Amalie raised her hands, but Marek grabbed both of wrists one handed, while the other began ripping her sweater apart. “I’ve missed your fire, Nightingale. Now give me my garnet.”

Chapter Fifteen

Hawk - Prague, Present Day

Hawk groaned as he came back to himself, with every muscle and bone in his body screaming in protest. As his wits returned, he remembered: a man falling through the ceiling, wickedly sharp pieces of glass, him hitting the floor and sliding away from—

Amalie.

Slowly, he moved his head so he could see the DJ booth. The man—Marek, he assumed—didn’t notice Hawk. Marek’s attention was on Amalie, whom he held by the throat as he raked his claws down her back and side. His brave nightingale didn’t make a sound, but the thought didn’t fill Hawk with pride. Amalie was amazingly strong, and this Marek had easily overpowered her. That meant that Hawk wouldn’t stand a chance against the vampire physically. Luckily, Hawk’s greatest strength had always been his mind.

He glanced around the club, searching for a suitable weapon, when he spied the foam machine they used for college raves. Hawk had been against the idea of foam parties from the beginning and flat out refused to purchase one of the expensive commercial machines, so Peter had cobbled one together with a leaf blower and a pressure washer. It hadn’t worked very well, which was why they’d only hosted the one foam party. Hawk remembered the massive puddles of water the machine had left behind…

…and that the DJ booth had a metal floor.

Hawk raised himself into a crouch, and crept to the side of the dance floor. Hoping Marek hadn’t noticed him, he swung himself onto the metal scaffolding and climbed up to the catwalks. Mounted along the railings were dozens of lights. Several of them were mounted right above Marek’s head. But before Hawk could deal with the lights, he needed to turn on the foam.

There was a secondary control panel on the center catwalk. Walking as quietly as possible, Hawk activated the foam machine, and used the joystick to angle the spray toward the booth. Marek glanced at the water accumulating around his boots, then ignored it so he could continue torturing Amalie.

“Bastard,” Hawk muttered as he turned up the spray. That done, he continued on down the catwalk until he reached the main spotlight directly above the DJ booth. Hoping he wouldn’t accidentally kill himself, Hawk pulled the cable out of the back of the light’s can, and yelled, “Metal floor!”

Marek looked up, annoyed and snarling and just distracted enough for Amalie to twist out of his grasp.

Hawk dropped the cable.

Amalie caught it, and shoved it onto Marek’s neck beneath his bearskin cape.

Hawk hit the power as Amalie jumped out of the booth and onto the dance floor.

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