Page 116 of Dark Reign of Forever

This was true. Bad as the situation was, knowing it was set in motion the moment she stepped off the plane somehow made it worse—made her deflate and feel more helpless.

The venomous little smile on the vampire’s face vanished. “We’re going on a road trip, your highness. And you really need to shut up.”

51

Making Bodies

NoonewouldtellJackson to stay behind and wait while justice came for his brother’s killer—not even the Lord of Night. With vampire blood still cruising in his system, he made it to the cavern in record time, ready to follow Dominique and his minions down into the mine. They should have been through here minutes ago and the place deserted. Instead, he heard voices from around the last bend, barely audible over the waterfall’s rumble. Clearly, something was not going according to plan.

Shit. What else is new?

Keeping low to the ground and his feet soft, he entered the woods and moved forward, only too aware how visible he would be to vampire eyes. A massive log, musty with rot, provided some cover for his advance. At its splintered end, he peered over the top, between several clusters of fan-shaped mushrooms, and studied the situation.

A dozen vampires faced off in the rocky clearing before the cavern’s maw. Their hands and faces glowed in the thin moonlight, and the wind toyed with their shadowy clothes and glistening hair. Esteban’s soldiers shifted like a restless pack of wolves, eager for a kill. Dominique’s group watched with their hands on the hilts of their weapons while Dominique himself stood between the two factions, as warily rigid as Esteban was casually relaxed.

Fuck. This has got ambush written all over it.

Something was moving in the cavern, but Jackson lost track of it when he felt Dominique shoving at him again, willing him to leave with a bloodcurdling sense of danger. Jaws clenched so hard his teeth ached, Jackson pushed back against the wordless command.I’m staying!

A mental slap upside the head made his brain ring. He could almost hear the colorful French that no doubt accompanied it. Then the connection broke so fast, vertigo seized him. Shifting his feet to stay upright, he stepped on a muddy rock and lost his balance entirely.

Crack!

The branch breaking under his ass sounded like a gunshot in his ears. Every vampire for a mile around must have heard it. Breath caught, blood pounding, he reached for the mini torch in his pocket. He waited, listening.

Nothing happened.

In the clearing, Esteban was holding forth, but no one came for the clumsy mortal in the woods. Jackson poked his head up among the mushrooms again. Another figure hunched before Dominique now, female and in chains, and…

“Oh, God.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Still, nobody looked in his direction. It was like he wasn’t there.

Then it hit him: for these vampires, hereallywasn’t there. Unable to budge him, Dominique must be using his psychic voodoo to erase him from the awareness of everyone here.

Emboldened, Jackson rose to his full height to get a better view. His gut dropped. The woman in chains was Geneviève, and…she was no longer human.

The total lack of heat in Dominique’s reaction to finding his sister turned into a vampire sent a chill down Jackson’s spine. He knew his friend, the lord of the vampires. That wasn’t simple anger beneath that glacial tone. Not even grief.

It was wrath.

Esteban taunted him while his wolf pack watched. They were all sleek and powerful, and they were all on guard. But they weren’t prepared for Esteban uttering the one name—the one threat—that unleashed the Lord of Night’s wrath.

“…and, of course, darling Cassidy.”

Dominique had his jaws clamped to Esteban’s jugular so fast the wolves startled, uncomprehending. By the time they moved in to help, Isao and the others were there, all their weapons drawn. Together, they created a defensive ring, surrounding Dominique and Esteban, who twisted in Dominique’s arms like a pinned worm. The wolves snarled their fury.

Jackson slipped around the log and rushed forward. Justice was being served, and invisible or not, he needed to be front and center. But before he could take three steps, the handful of Esteban’s guards morphed into ten. Then twenty…thirty…more. Too many.

Vampires swarmed out of the cavern’s depths, moonlight glinting off a wild assortment of weaponry, ranging from swords and chains to axes and pipes. Figures blurred and flickered everywhere, gray smears frozen in flashes of stillness, as though caught in a strobe light. The whoosh and clash of steel meeting steel at extreme velocity cut through the forest night. So did shrieks of outrage and howls of pain.

Five vampires suddenly appeared near Jackson. Two were the trench-coated figure of Douglas, Geneviève clutched in his arms. Three more surrounded them, armed with a knife, sword, chain whip, and fangs. Douglas hunched over Geneviève, shielding her, but the attack never came.

Instead, the sweet metal stench of vampire blood exploded in the damp air, and the three would-be assailants collapsed to the ground with surprised yelps. Dominique towered over them, both his swords dripping blood. Enraged as he was, he still maintained his no-kill policy; he only cut their legs out from under them. As they writhed and cursed, Douglas gathered up Geneviève and vanished into the forest. Dominique spun around to dispatch two more combatants coming after him—taking their arms this time—before disappearing back into the battle.

The temporarily slain fighters located their severed limbs and shoved them back onto bleeding stumps, the ones with arms helping those without. Whole again, they, too, bolted back into the fray.

The entire exchange took mere seconds, and Jackson was sure the only reason he could follow it at all was because of his enhanced senses. Or maybe because it was so much slower than the rest of the fighting, which looked like a featureless whirl of activity in comparison—except for one small group. Standing well clear of the chaos was Esteban, flanked by four others. Blood splatters covered his face, and there now was a sword in his hand, though he appeared more interested in directing the supernatural warriors than joining their ranks.

The clearing reverberated with dark growls, punctuated by bright shrieks. Bodies or—more often—pieces of bodies came sailing out of the combat zone. Mostly, the dismembered limbs were caught and re-attached before they hit the ground. Some, however, went flying into the forest. Jackson didn’t even have time to duck when a leg crashed into the tree behind him, bounced off, and narrowly missed kicking him in the head with its muddy boot.

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