The Turning-Blood Ties 1 (31 page)

“Master, the first course is ready.”

At the sound of the guard’s voice, Cyrus turned to me. “We don’t want to keep our guests waiting.” He held out his arm and I took it, casting a reassuring glance at Ziggy. Cyrus faced forward and Dahlia was so preoccupied with her new prize, neither of them saw me mouth stay close to him.

We stepped onto the terrace to a round of applause. A guard stopped Ziggy and Dahlia from exiting with us. The glass doors swung shut, leaving them inside.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Cyrus called, his voice cutting through the excited chatter.

“Thank you all so very much for coming. It warms my heart to share this night with such good friends.”

There was a polite smattering of applause. I tried not to scan the garden walls for signs of the Movement. It had to be nearly time now. Nathan promised they would come tonight. The cavalry didn’t show up. Not during Cyrus’s long-winded speech about the importance of tradition and the looming threat of extinction.

God, it’s like he’s running for office.

Finally, he ended with some sugarcoated platitude about old and new friendships, clapped his hands and signaled the guards waiting inside the French doors.

“As you know, our guests of honor will enter in a moment. Please remember that one of them is for the Soul Eater, and the other is our traditional first course.”

Dahlia and Ziggy joined us on the terrace. As I looked at her beaming face, a pang of guilt shot through me. She thought she’d been chosen for a great honor. I’d condemned her to a fate worse than death, once Jacob Seymour consumed her soul. Cyrus waved Dahlia forward. I expected him to bite into her, to start the process so she’d be turned quickly for the Soul Eater.

Two guards stepped forward and grasped Ziggy by the arms. I assumed they prepared to throw him into the crowd.

Nathan, where are you?

I felt sick to my stomach as I saw Cyrus’s hand twine around Dahlia’s hair.

“Ladies and gentlemen, bon appétit!”

Then he threw Dahlia off the terrace.

Eighteen

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The Soul Eater

C onfusion flashed across her face as the vampires surged forward and seized her. She fought their greedy, clutching hands as she looked toward us. “Cyrus? What’s going on?”

My own panicked brain echoed her question.

“This was what you wanted,” Cyrus snarled at me before rounding on Ziggy.

“I thought you’d feed her to your father!” I gripped his arm, but I didn’t have the strength to stop him as he turned away from me.

“No fucking way!” Ziggy struggled against the guards and actually managed to break their hold. He fell to the hard stone, scrambling backward on his hands and feet like a frightened crab.

He didn’t get far.

“No!” I shouted as Cyrus descended on him. There was a sickening crunch as muscle and vein gave way under fangs. Ziggy’s agonized screams filled the air, a death rattle of blood gurgling from his throat.

I needed something, anything to use as a weapon. Ziggy’s cries slowed, then stopped altogether, and his body hung limp in Cyrus’s arms. Dahlia faired much better. She shrieked a command and the vampires fell back in a wave. She ran toward the maze, never looking back. The Fangs followed her, whooping war cries as they disappeared into the dark hedges. The diners who were unaffected by Dahlia’s flight murmured in surprise and looked around uncomfortably. Cyrus rose and left Ziggy unconscious where he lay. I watched, sickened, as Cyrus wiped a rivulet of blood from his chin and raised his arms. His roughened voice and savage vampire face made him seem more evil, if that were possible. “Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the hunt.”

Behind us, the doors pushed open and a frantic group of humans flooded the terrace. They ran for their lives and would have trampled Ziggy, had I not knelt over him and shielded his vulnerable body.

“Ziggy, can you hear me?” I pulled him into my lap and pressed my hand to the oozing wound on his neck. Blood should have been spraying from his gashed throat, if there was enough blood left to spray. He opened his eyes, but they rolled back into his head as his body seized in my arms.

Most of the pets ran straight for the maze, herded toward it by the pursuing vampires. A few of the humans broke away from the crowd and were caught as they tried to climb the garden walls.

Cyrus watched for a long moment, something akin to pride on his face. Then he turned to us and raised his wrist. “Shall I turn him, or will you?”

“No!” I shouted again, trying to cover Ziggy by leaning over him, but my answer was swallowed up by the pandemonium. “I made a mistake. I wanted him to live.”

“Well, it’s not bloody likely now, is it?” Cyrus asked dispassionately. “Look, we’ll get you another one.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks, stinging my cold flesh. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.”

Cyrus frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He suspected something. Amid the screams and destruction around us, I let my guard down, my guilt and terror flooding the blood tie.

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Over all this, a new sound emerged. The steady thump of rotary blades chopping through the air. I’d often heard the sound at the hospital, when accident victims were brought in by helicopter.

The medical chopper had nothing on the three sleek, black, military-style copters that dipped below the tree line. I stared up at the sky, transfixed by the whirling blades. My heart swelled with a mixture of dread and hope. The hour of salvation had arrived, too late for Ziggy.

Or me, for that matter. Without him, my safety wasn’t assured. I wrapped my arms around Ziggy’s chest and stood, half lifting him. He gasped and a cascade of blood poured over my hands. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

Cyrus shouted frantically to his guards. New screams erupted from the hedge maze, the petrified cries of vampires trapped like foxes in snares, as one by one they realized what was happening. The helicopters’ floodlights snapped on and pure UV rays drenched the lawn in artificial sunlight.

The heat and glare made my skin sizzle, but there wasn’t enough direct exposure to kill me on the shaded porch where we were. Others weren’t so lucky. The few vampires who made it clear of the maze exploded into flame and burned before they could reach the terrace. Only a handful made it to the house, pushing past us and charging through the glass doors.

Long ropes fell from both sides of each helicopter and dark figures dropped onto the lawn. The assassins had arrived.

Twenty of them slid to the ground, covered in head-to-toe black gear. On their heads they wore black hoods and dark goggles. Leather gloves and boots protected their hands and feet. Not a centimeter of their skin was exposed.

They were impressively efficient. The vampires that didn’t burn quickly enough were staked. A few were decapitated with long, studded knives. It was gruesome. Headless bodies burst into fire, skin and muscle flaking to embers in the wind generated by the helicopters. For a brief second, all that remained of them was a flash of blue flame where their heart should be, just before their ribs turned to ash and crumbled to the lawn.

Cyrus fled past me, the right side of his face scorched by the lights. “I’ll deal with you later! Run!”

But I couldn’t leave Ziggy to die alone. I struggled backward to the door, dragging him with me, as my sire ran to cowardly safety.

The assassins surged up the lawn in a lethal wave. A thin line of smoke wafted off of the top of the head of one of the assassins. He lifted a walkie-talkie to his face, mumbled into it, and the lights cut off in sync.

I searched the lawn frantically for any sign of Nathan. How would I find him when they were all dressed the same?

One of them pointed in my direction as I gained the door.

“Don’t hurt him!” I screamed, dropping Ziggy to the marble floor of the foyer. I laid across him, wincing at the rattle I heard in his chest. “He’s human! Don’t hurt him!”

Without a word, the killer reached down and lifted Ziggy’s legs before he barked at the others filing into the house. “I want a sweep of the grounds, and the house upstairs and down. Max, Amy, get the ground lights, and for God’s sake, let’s find the Soul Eater!

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Carrie, get him by the shoulders!”

It was Nathan.

Numb, I grabbed Ziggy under his arms. Seeing the doors were open, I nodded in the direction of the study. It was dark, but my eyes adjusted in time to guide Nathan to the corner farthest from the door. He eased Ziggy to the ground and whipped off his hood to examine the wound.

“It’s pretty bad,” I said softly. “Even if we got him in an ambulance now—”

“Shut up!” Nathan shouted, lifting Ziggy in his arms. “He’s gonna be fine. Aren’t you, kid?”

Ziggy’s head lolled to the side, and he choked on his blood as he struggled to speak. Only two words came out clearly. One was home.

The other was Dad.

“Yeah. We’re going home,” Nathan whispered, smoothing Ziggy’s hair back from his forehead. “Daddy’s got you, and we’re going home.”

I covered my mouth as a sob threatened to tear from my throat. Outside the door, a war waged. No one knew that in this room, a father held his dying son. No one except us, and the Soul Eater.

I’d forgotten his presence, had even run past his coffin as we’d entered the room without a second thought. Now dread overwhelmed me. My gaze fell on the casket. It was empty, the lid torn off the hinges. “Nathan…”

He would be no help, I realized, as I watched him cradle Ziggy close, half rocking on the hard floor. The sight was too painful. I had to look away. The Soul Eater was somewhere in the house. Then I remembered the vial of holy water Nathan had given me. I’d tucked it into my bra as I’d dressed for the party. I’d just fished it out when the doorknob rattled. “Nathan!”

He was on his feet beside me, his face expressionless. “Ziggy’s dead.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Is there anything I can—”

“There’s really not time for that now.” Nathan stepped in front of me. “Whatever comes through that door, run like hell.”

“Excuse me?”

Just then the doors burst open. Cyrus stood in the doorway, rage twisting his burned face.

“I should have known,” he hissed as his one remaining eye moved between Nathan and I. Nathan strode forward. “Simon Seymour, son of Jacob Seymour, by order of the Voluntary Vampire Extinction Movement, I charge you with the destruction of humans, the creation of new vampires, and the crime of aiding your sire, the Soul Eater, in his own offenses. How do you plead?”

A cruel smile formed on Cyrus’s lips. “I never plead for anything. Certainly not to a whelp like you.”

Nathan stood his ground as Cyrus moved closer. He watched Cyrus warily, as though he were a deadly snake about to strike.

“Dear Nolen. Stupid as ever.”

Nathan clenched his fists. “How do you plead to the charges, Cyrus?”

“Does it matter? I’m unarmed, and no match for you, should you choose to strike me down in my weakened and vulnerable state.” After a deliberate pause, he added, “Like you did your wife.”

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Nathan’s body, tensed to the breaking point, snapped into motion. As his hands closed around my sire’s throat, I wanted to kill him. My heart constricted in grief and horror at the thought Nathan might hurt Cyrus.

“Do you think she’ll survive without me?” Cyrus wheezed. “The tie is too strong between us. But that doesn’t matter, does it? You didn’t even save the pathetic human boy.”

“Shut up,” Nathan growled, slamming Cyrus into the wall. Faintly, through the frantic staccato of my pulse, I heard Cyrus laugh. “You don’t really believe you’ve changed? Just because you’ve killed a few of the bad guys?”

Nathan crushed Cyrus’s head against the wall, and I slumped to the floor, my chest tightening painfully so that I could only take fast, shallow breaths. When Cyrus spoke, his voice was ragged, but the hate there was unmistakable. “Kill me then, Nolen. It will be worth it to see the satisfaction in your eyes. I’ll die knowing you’re worthy of our sire’s blood.”

Nathan’s hands flexed, squeezing Cyrus’s neck with fury, but Cyrus rallied one last time and shoved Nathan backward, hard. Nathan lost his balance and toppled to the floor. As he pulled himself up, he snarled, “I’m taking her with me.”

Cyrus stepped aside, rubbing his neck as he leaned against the wall. “Fine. You’re welcome to her.”

Before Nathan or I could react, Cyrus lunged forward and grabbed me by the wrist, spinning me into his arms like a dance. “How many pieces would you like to carry her out in? Two?”

He twisted my arm until the long bones of my forearm snapped like dried twigs. I’d never actually broken a bone before. Man, did it hurt.

Screaming in pain and anger like a wounded animal, I flailed my free hand to break the vial I still clutched in my fist. If I had to, I’d spray us both with it.

“What’s this?” Cyrus hissed into my ear. “A token of affection from your knight protector?”

He pried my fingers loose and snatched the bottle. Ferocious fingers seized my chin and squeezed my face roughly, forcing my jaw down.

“All this time you let me think I’d created the perfect companion, and you were just waiting to sink the stake into my heart.” He popped the lid off the vial and tilted it. A single drop hung on the edge, poised to fall directly into my open mouth. “We’re more alike than I thought.”

“Don’t do it,” Nathan warned.

“Why? Because you’ll kill me? You’ve already proved you can’t. You’d enjoy it too much.” Cyrus tipped the vial a little more. The suspended drop trembled and I closed my eyes.

I wasn’t ready to die. I might not have anything to live for, but an empty life sounded a lot better than an uncertain afterlife.