Broken Heart 02 Don't Talk Back to Your Vampire (29 page)

BOOK: Broken Heart 02 Don't Talk Back to Your Vampire
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I had no idea what to make of Koschei's accusation. I was feeling dizzy, thanks to Otto's enthusiastic
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removal of my blood. The doctor yanked my hair. "Ow!"

"For tests," he said gleefully. Then he jerked out a few more strands. I denied him the pleasure of my discomfort, staying still and silent. He scowled and returned to his table of tortures.

Eva? Please, love, answer me!

Oh, God. He sounded so desperate, so concerned. Would just one quick thought matter? Koschei was watching me closely. Otto had apparently finished gathering samples from me and returned to the dark recesses from which he'd slithered.

"Why don't you answer him?" asked Koschei.

"Who?"

His lips tugged into an awful smile. "Talk to him, Eva."

The urge to mentally connect with Lorcan was too strong. I fought against the command, but it was a short-lived battle. Koschei had been practicing his skills for more than four millennia. But not even a vampire Ancient is a match for a worried mother. I made a concerted effort to rebuff his glamour. I built a psychic barrier and strengthened it with my love for Tamara and my determination to see her safe.

It worked.

"You are much too powerful for a Turn-blood. What else did Lorcan's blood do to you?" His brows dipped, his lips pinching shut in anger. "Do as I say, Eva, if you value the life of your daughter."

"Free her and you can have me
and
Lorcan."

"Agreed. Tell him to meet us, alone, at the abandoned mini-golf course."

"I want to see Tamara before I agree to anything."

He clamped my shoulder, hatred flaring in his gaze, and the familiar tingling pricked me. We appeared in the hallway. Koschei hustled me into the living room.

Nefertiti waited on the blue couch. She had a nasty black gun trained on my daughter's forehead.

"Oh, my God! Tamara, are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm f-fine."

Oh, my poor baby. She was dressed in a neon pink stretch top, a pink and black skirt, striped hose, and black platform shoes. Her body said Goth-punk, but her face said scared-little-girl. Her makeup was smeared from crying; black streaked her still-wet cheeks.

I turned to Koschei. "You made my daughter cry."

"Tears mean nothing to me."

That was it… that was it… that was
fucking
it! Nobody threatened my daughter. Not even the master of

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my Family. I wrenched out of his grasp. Staring into his eyes, I said, "Freeze."

The word boomed from my lips. He stilled completely. Only his eyes revealed the depth of his fury.

I turned to the bitch on the couch. "Nefertiti, you will obey me."

"Yes, Eva."

"Stay where you are and point the gun at Koschei." I wrapped the words in iron will.

She swung the gun in his direction.

"Tamara, come here."

Eyes wide, she scooted off the couch, rounding the back to avoid getting in front of the gun. She hurried to my side and clung to my arm. "Holy shit, Mom."

"That about sums it up."

Hey, door jockey
, I mentally called,
get your furry butt in here
.

I heard him scrabbling down the hallway. He took one look at the situation, and lurched forward, snarling.

"Freeze!"

In midlurch, he fell forward, and stayed with legs and feet still curled as if in movement.

"Go outside, Tamara, and wait for me."

For once, I didn't have to ask her twice to do something. She ran out of the room. I heard the front door slam.

I looked at Nefertiti. "Shoot Koschei," I ordered. "And don't stop until you're out of bullets."

Chapter 27

As Tamara and I took off across the grass, we heard the report of the bullets. I steered Tamara in the direction of the compound, which was the most secure place in Broken Heart.

"Did you kill him?" asked Tamara.

"No. Not even a full clip of bullets will take down an Ancient for very long. We just needed time to escape."

"You should've killed him."

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"Nobody knows what would happen to a Family if its Ancient died. Our powers are traced directly to the founder. If I killed Koschei, I might kill all of us from the Romanov line."

"Good point." She looked behind her. "Let's run faster."

I couldn't agree more, so we picked up our pace.

Lorcan?

He didn't respond. Foreboding whipped through me. Had Koschei's minions gotten to him?

Damian?

Eva! Where are you?

Tamara and I are headed toward the compound. Koschei the Second kidnapped us. I made
Nefertiti shoot him.

You… what?

The bullets will slow him down, not kill him. He said his mutants attacked the town.

Several locations were assaulted all at once. Everything's under control now.

Good. Get to the abandoned house north of Putt 'Er There and nab the rest of the bad guys.

Done.

Wait! Where's Lorcan?

He was attacked. Stan is tending to his wounds, but a day's rest will heal him fully
. I could feel his pause. Then:
Bert mauled him. I'm sorry, Eva. We had to put the dog down
.

Bert hadn't abandoned me at the creepy house. Koschei had given him a mental command to find Lorcan and harm him. Poor, sweet Bert. And Lorcan—he must've been shocked when his friend turned on him. Just like I had. My heart squeezed. I wish I could shoot Koschei myself. I'd empty every round into his balls.

"Mom, I gotta rest." Tamara stumbled to a stop and bent at the knees, trying to catch her breath. I realized then how fast I must've been going.

"Sorry," I said. "I won't feel safe until we're in the compound."

"Me, too." She straightened and looked at me. "Mom, you totally rocked in there. Yelling 'Freeze' was kinda cheesy, though."

I grinned. "It worked, didn't it?"

I was so relieved that Tamara was safe that I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a hug. For once, she didn't grumble and grouse about getting mommy-smooshed. She returned the hug fully and we
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stood there for a long moment. My baby. My sweet, sweet baby.

"Uh, Mom? Can't… breathe."

"Oh, all right." I released her and stepped back. A flash of movement caught my eye. I shoved Tamara out of the way and she flew sideways, skidding across the dry grass.

Nefertiti shoved a long blade into my abdomen, and I pushed her away. Blood gushed from my wound, but it started to seal almost immediately.

"What are we going to do?" I asked. "Hack at each other all night?"

"I'm going to cut off your head, you Turn-blood bitch."

Her knife flashed again. I tried to rear out of the way, but the blade grazed my throat. "Stop, Nefertiti!" I added the boom to my voice, but the dagger kept its trajectory.

"Ugh!" Nefertiti lurched forward, her arms dropping.

I looked down and saw that Tamara had gotten behind the vampire and shoved two very short knives into Nefertiti's sides, just below the rib cage. To my pride and horror, my little girl twisted the knives viciously, then ripped them out.

Nefertiti screamed.

Tamara pierced Nefertiti's shoulders and did the same shove, twist, and yank motion. Oh, my God! My daughter would need therapy after this… or maybe I would.

"Don't ever touch my mother again," she said. She thrust the little blades into Nefertiti's back, executed the same moves, then put her foot onto Nefertiti's buttocks and pushed. Writhing and moaning, the vampire remained facefirst on the ground.

"Durry showed me the moves," said Tamara. "It takes longer for the flesh to heal when it's twisted."

"Tamara!"

Speak of the devil. The shout came from Durriken.

Still in shock over my daughter's vampire-hunter technique, I turned to find Durriken and Johnny running toward us. I happily backed away while Durriken secured Nefertiti's arms.

"My glamour didn't work," I said.

"She was in bloodlust," answered Durriken as he clasped chains to her ankles, too. "Vampires have more strength and resistance when they're really pissed off."

Johnny stood nearby. I turned to look at him.

"All these years… and there she is," he whispered. His hair was matted, his clothes dirty, and his smile grim. He must've been searching for her nonstop for weeks. "Nefertiti."

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Durriken jerked the woman to her feet.

"I was tracking Tamara when I found Johnny scouting the woods. Then I caught Nefertiti's scent," said Durriken.

"Good thing," I said, shuddering to think how Nefertiti might well have killed us both.

"
O zalzaro khal peski piri
," said Durriken. "Acid corrodes its own container. She has no soul. Evil cannot abide a conscience." He tugged on the chains binding Nefertiti's delicate wrists. "Don't bother trying to break them. Brigid herself created the
drabas
for them."

Nefertiti wasn't struggling. She was staring at Johnny. "Oh, my husband," she cried. "I wanted only to protect you."

"Liar," said Johnny softly. He strode forward and grabbed a fistful of Nefertiti's silky locks. "You cursed me. I watched my pregnant fiancée marry someone else. Another man raised our daughter." He twisted the knot of hair tighter, but she didn't flinch. "I hate you."

"I gave you immortality." She smirked at him. "You will live forever because of me."

"You're wrong. I'm just a walking dead man."

Johnny's other hand rose and in a flash of silver, Nefertiti's head separated from her shoulders.

Durriken shouted as blood sprayed him. He let go of the body and it slumped to the ground.

"Johnny! No!" Grief seared me as Tamara sought my embrace, burying her head on my shoulder. She sobbed for both of us.

He tossed Nefertiti's head onto the ground, then turned to look at me. His lips curved into the famous half smile that had made him such a movie-star heartthrob half a century ago. "It's okay, Eva. I'm free."

Nefertiti's corpse exploded into dust. And before my eyes, Johnny crumbled into ash.

Durriken went to report to his father, taking with him the Brigid-spelled chains and Nefertiti's magic ankh.

Jessica met us at the compound and led us to a small bungalow near the library. The place was sparsely furnished and was the color I'd come to dread: white. Jessica had brought me some clothes.

"After we found your pajamas in the cell, I thought you were running around nekkid."

I took the jeans and halter top. "You thought I was running around as a wolf."

She grinned.

At the same time I was putting on my clothes (oh, the glorious feel of pants), Patrick, Damian, and a large security team were bursting into Koschei's hideout.

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