Blood Judgment (Judgment Series) (46 page)

Ashton skidded to a halt, bringing Julian and Slade up with him. “Okay, do we take out the hunters or stay on our boy’s trail?”

“I say we get our boy,” Slade said. “If those fuckers catch up, we take them out.”

“I agree,” Julian said. “If the people in the house hear gunshots, they might complicate the situation.”

“We could kill them the old-fashioned way.” Ashton flashed his fangs.

“True,” Slade said. “But they’re armed and might make a lot of noise before we get all of them.”

“Hell, you boys need to get your bloodlust up.” Ashton lit off again in the direction the male had taken.

Hot on his ass, Slade and Julian followed over the rough terrain, dodging rocks and protruding roots.

Ahead of them, Julian glimpsed a flash of movement. “There.”

The vampire half ran, half staggered up an incline. He turned his shaggy head, looking behind him. One foot landed badly and he slipped, his arms pinwheeling before he toppled backward.

He tumbled halfway back down the slope, coming to a rest against a tree trunk.

“Shit,” Ashton said when they reached the bottom. “I hope he didn’t break anything.”

As if on cue, the vampire peeled himself away from the tree and rolled into a moaning ball. His head jerked up. Panic flashed over his face, but he calmed a little when he saw them. “Help me,” he croaked. “Please. I’ll do anything if you’ll get me out of here.

Ashton headed up the bank. “We’ll get you out and you don’t have to do a damn thing.” He knelt beside the male. “Is your leg broken?”

“Must be. Sure as fuck feels like it. I busted it good against that tree. But if those bastards catch up, that’s gonna be the least of my worries.”

“Slade, can you carry him? I want Julian’s hands free.”

That Julian was better with weapons had to be a huge thorn in Slade’s ass, but he didn’t appear ruffled. He moved beside the fallen male. “Sure, I can take him.”

“We need to get you up.” Slade offered his hand. The male latched on and Slade hauled him up until he balanced on one leg. “Okay man, hang tight and be still. I’ll have you out of here in no time.” He hoisted the male up onto his shoulders, grunting under the weight as he adjusted the load.

“Maybe they won’t realize we’ve doubled back,” Julian said.

“Don’t count on it,” Ashton snarled.

The going was slow over the rough terrain. Slade stumbled several times, but managed not to drop the injured male.

Julian’s hand tightened on the Beretta. “I smell them. I think they’re behind us.” Excitement rushed through him. This was what he wanted. To join in and fight back. To do something to help his people. To prove himself capable. To be something beyond a violinist. It might not be his true love, but it was what he needed to do.

Slade picked up his pace. “Yeah. I smell them, too.”

When they reached the washout under the fence, Slade lowered the male to the ground. “That fence is hot. I’m talking roast-your-ass, hot. You’ll have to crawl under on your belly.”

The male nodded and rolled over. With a muffled curse, he pulled himself under the wire and out of the way on the other side.

Julian stood back, ready to defend them while Ashton and Slade went under. The wind carried the men’s scent. They were close. Too close.

As if reading Julian’s mind, Ashton said, “I want you to run decoy. Do not, I repeat,
do not
, engage them. Draw them away long enough for us to get him to safety. Then work your way back to the pole-building.”

“Okay.” He pivoted to take off.

“Julian,” Ashton’s voice cracked like a whip.

Julian swiveled back around.

“Don’t do anything else. You got it?”

“I got it.” Their lack of trust stung.

He set off at a brisk trot. As the sound of Slade and Ashton’s progress diminished, the noises made by the hunters grew louder.

A few minutes later, a splash of fluorescent orange moved through the trees. He was right on the bastards. He changed direction and ran, making plenty of noise.

Behind him, the hunters hooted and crashed through the brush, enjoying themselves. He slowed, letting them get a little closer. Slade and Ashton should have had enough time to get back to the road if they weren’t pissing around about it.

The hunter’s calls grew louder and Julian’s lip curled off his teeth in a snarl.

Why shouldn’t he take them out? By the sounds of their pursuit, there were five or six trailing him. They’d come to the club to kill an innocent victim. Why should he allow them to walk away when he could circle around and kill every damn one of them?

They were headed toward the fence. If he let them get ahead of him, they would be between him and the voltage. Picking them off would be easy.

He trotted to his left and hunkered down. No doubt they were city boys and didn’t have a clue about real hunting. He didn’t either, but at least he had a predator’s instincts.

Sure enough, in minutes, five of the bastards, each wearing night vision goggles, passed by him. He waited until they were a good stretch ahead and eased to his feet.

“Wait up,” a voice called from behind.

A straggler.

Julian snarled and dropped back down, waiting for his first victim to make an appearance.

The man came into sight, one hand adjusting his pants. That untimely shit was going to cost the son of a bitch. Big time. He passed Julian and hurried after the other men. A crossbow was slung on his back.

Julian launched to his feet and overtook the hunter before the man even had time to turn around. He leaped and landed on the man’s back, taking him down like a mountain lion on a deer. The kill was quick and clean, snapping the hunter’s neck with a vicious twist.

Julian took off after the others, catching up a half mile later.

“Where the hell did that jackass Max go?” one of them asked.

“Probably back there beatin’ off or somethin’.” The one who’d answered carried a crossbow with a scope. Must be the vampire killing weapon of choice. One bolt through the heart and it would be lights out. Permanently.

But he suspected that wasn’t how they did business. More likely, they would enjoy taking several shots and letting the poor son of bitch run until he collapsed from blood loss.

He thought about Nickey. He’d been scared out of his mind, knowing they were going to kill him. Had those men who’d paid to kill a predator in a canned hunt done that to him? A pitiful, starved, sixteen-year-old child? Was that their idea of a good hunt? His gut said yes and strengthened his resolve to eliminate them.

He needed to separate the men. Shooting them was out. Gunfire would raise alarms with Ashton and Slade and maybe with the bastards in the house. He snaked along behind them, hoping for an opportunity to take one of them out.

“Julian! Where the fuck are you?”

Shit, fuck!
Ashton.

He didn’t need company.

The hunters stopped and conferred among themselves.

Ashton and Slade popped over a small rise and stopped dead in their tracks. Then they separated, diving in opposite directions.

“Vampires!” one of the hunters brayed and went for his weapon.

Julian jerked his gun free and leveled it at a man whose face mirrored comic surprise. Julian fired two rounds and the man dropped.

Two of the hunters snapped crossbows into position, firing almost simultaneously.

Someone gasped then groaned. It wasn’t one of the men. Julian cringed before dropping another hunter.

Gunfire cracked from different directions as Ashton and Slade returned fire. Whichever one had been hit was alive.

The two remaining hunters took to their heels. Slade sprang from a thicket and fired, taking both men down.

Another groan of pain and Julian spun, focusing on the sound.
Oh, fuck
. Ashton was down. Hidden by a huge log.

Heart banging, Julian ran toward the log where Ashton was trying to get up. Julian skidded to a halt. Ashton was on his knees, bent over. A bolt shaft protruded from his shoulder.

“Shit. Ashton…” Julian didn’t know what to say.

Anger burned hot in Ashton’s eyes. “Get over here and help me.”

Julian sped around the log and dropped down beside him. “What do you want me to do?”

“I need you to break this damn chunk of wood off. Up close. I can’t work with this thing sticking out of me.”

Julian grasped the shaft with both hands. “This is going to hurt like a motherfucker.”

“Just do it.”

He snapped the bolt in half. Ashton groaned and squeezed his eyes shut.

Slade trotted over. “Damn you, Julian. You see what happens when you don’t follow orders.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be, you stupid fuck. What if that had gone through his heart? Huh?”

“I get it. I said I’m sorry.”

“Shut up. Both of you. Help me up. We still have a lot of work to do.”

Shame eating him alive, Julian pulled Ashton to his feet.

Ashton lifted his arm into firing position and grunted, pain etching lines around his mouth.

Julian had blown it. A mistake this big would have repercussions. He’d proven himself unable to follow simple orders. Why had he done it? If only he could take it back and do as he’d been told. There was no place in the Resistance for rogues. That had been made clear and what had he done?

He’d screwed up. Again.

He was a royal fuck up. He was a fuck up at being a mate. Hell, he was a fuck up at being a vampire. All he knew how to do well was play the violin and there sure as fuck wasn’t a place for him to do that now.

Total, stifling, self-loathing settled over him. He was a violinist. And that’s all he was. He belonged on a stage, not on the battlefield. He didn’t have what it took.

He was a failure in every sense of the word. Wishing the ground would open and swallow him, he desperately wanted to go someplace and get falling down drunk. And when this fiasco was over, he was going to go home and do just that. Humiliated, he trailed behind Ashton and Slade who worked their way back to the section of woods near the house. From there, they hustled through the trees toward the estate and emerged at the pole-building.

Slade pushed the door back a couple of inches. No response from inside. He shoved the door open enough for them to enter the dimly lighted enclosure.

Claustrophobia closed over Julian.

The prisoners came to their cell doors, fear and hope stamped on each face.

“Please, can you get us out of here?” the smallest one asked. The kid was maybe fifteen years old.

Anger overrode Julian’s shame. He wanted to crush the traders into pulp. It would be bad enough if they only preyed on mature vampires, but he suspected they sold as many juveniles as adults.

“We’ll get you out,” Ashton said. “Julian, do you know where they keep the keys?”

Julian pointed to a desk in the corner.

Slade stepped up beside Julian. “When we let you out, head for the woods at the side of the property. You can wait for us or make a run for it. Don’t get on the fence. It’s hot. Hit the driveway and go out through there. The guard’s dead.”

“There was another of us…” The youngster looked sick. “They took him a little while ago.”

“He has a broken leg,” Ashton said. “Otherwise, he’s safe.”

“Thank God,” one of the males said.

Ashton moved to the first cell with the ring of keys. “Let’s get you boys out of here.”

The released males waited in a huddle until Ashton opened the last cell. Once the prisoners were free, Ashton went to the door and opened it a crack. “All clear. Get moving.”

The males slipped out of the building and took off for the trees.

Grimacing, Ashton removed the backpack and squatted down. He set the pack on the floor and removed two explosives. He handed one to Slade. “Put it in the back.”

Ashton stood and took the other bundle to the front of the building and lashed it to one of the support beams.

Slade finished and joined Julian. When Ashton was ready, they hauled ass to the back of the house.

Warm, yellow light spilled from the windows on the first and second floors. They dodged pools of light and ascended the back steps.

Ashton tried the knob. Locked. “Help me out, Slade.”

“Step aside.” Slade drove his shoulder into the door. It flew open, giving way under his assault with enough force to bang against the wall.

Weapons in hand, they entered and moved though the downstairs rooms, each more lavishly appointed than the last. Ashton shoved a door open and they went into a huge office.

A man walked into the room before they had a chance to look around. “What the—” His eyes widened with comprehension and he spun and fled.

Ashton went after him. All it took was a half dozen strides. Ashton leapt, bringing the man down hard. The end was fast and merciless. He grabbed the human’s head in both hands and wrenched. With a curse, he shoved the body aside and clutched at his shoulder where blood seeped around the protruding piece of the bolt.

Julian had to make up for what he’d done. Even if he didn’t make it into the Resistance, he had to make it up to Ashton. Though he would never live down the shame.

Ashton got to his feet with a groan and they continued through the lower level of the house.

The sounds of billiards and conversation indicated at least two more people were there. More laughter erupted, another click of balls, a curse. They followed the noise to a set of five steps leading to a lower level.

Ashton signaled and they charged down the stairs.

The men froze, then grabbed for weapons.

Julian dove for the floor while Ashton and Slade took cover behind chairs.

Bullets zinged in their direction, but the shots went wild.

Julian returned fire. One man fell with a red wound blooming on his forehead.

He dropped the other man a moment later.

“Good shooting.” Ashton motioned to Julian with his gun. “Go check the second floor. And be careful. We’ll finish going through the rooms down here.”

Julian made fast work of checking the second floor. Nothing but richly appointed bedrooms with closets packed to bursting with expensive clothes. The fuckers lived well off blood money.