Dreams of a Dark Warrior (35 page)

the ground. The shock he must be feeling …

When one of them ripped off his shirt, he spat in her face. “You bluidy whores! Rot in hel !”

Beneath her hands, Regin felt the glass cel wal bulging out. More splinters fractured across it.

“Natalya, on the count of three, we charge the glass. Hard. You harder than me. Because of my recent

fileting and al .”

Natalya nodded, and they crossed to the back of the cel . “One … two … three.” They ran, ramming

their shoulders against the glass.
Impact.
The wal shattered, sending them sprawling forward. The pressure shot shards like bul ets into the corridor, riddling the succubae, tearing them apart.

Lying flat on the ground, MacRieve was mostly unscathed. He leapt to his feet and attacked the five,

his claws slashing through their necks, finishing them off one by one. “My thanks to you, Regin.”
Slash.

“And to your friend.”

“
De nada,
werewolf,” Regin said, scanning the area for a sword, a freaking pipe, anything.

Natalya snatched up larger shards of glass, stabbing them through her jacket sleeves for later use.

She col ected stil more, carrying them between her knuckles, ready to throw.

Regin cocked her brow at a dead guard’s machine gun. She hooked her foot under it, hiking it up to

catch it.

Natalya said, “Have you ever fired one of those?”

Lorekind scorned them. The weapons were so tackily
human
. “Look, I’ve seen
Terminator
. How difficult can it be? Now, let’s go find Tiger!”

MacRieve said, “Whoa, where are you going, Valkyrie? The exit’s the other way. I’l help you get there

safely.”

“No dice. Got someone back there.”

He pointed in the opposite direction. “And I’ve got someone up there. Gods speed, females.” He loped

off.

She and Natalya raced away as fast as Regin could manage. While they searched for Thad, Regin

also had her eyes peeled for Fegley, Dixon, and most especial y Chase.

“Is that Tiger?” Regin pointed far down the corridor. “At the edge of that big gap?” Through the smoke,

she couldn’t be sure.

Natalya swiped her hair out of her face. “It’s him. Wait … what’s he doing? Isn’t that where Lothaire’s

been kept?”

“Yeah. Exactly where La Dorada was heading.” They tried to get his attention, but there were too many

skirmishes. “Nat, go snag him! Quick, I’m right behind you.”

“I’ve got this!” Natalya bolted away, with Regin lagging behind, limping over uneven ground. The floor

was stil swel ing up and col apsing as if it bubbled. Flaming rafters had begun hurtling down al around

them.

Yet even over the din, Regin’s ears twitched. “We’ve got company,” she cal ed to Natalya. Pravus

shifters had picked up their scent and were trailing them.

Within moments, she and the fey were surrounded by the dregs of the Lore—a motley col ection of

creatures with viper eyes, forked tongues, and scales. Some had crocodile fangs and plated skin.

Regin cocked her weapon, brought it to her hip. “You don’t want to mess with us. I’m about to mince

meat and make hay with this thing.”

The largest one laughed. Until Natalya’s glass shard plugged his jugular. Regin aimed and pul ed the

trigger. The gun kicked as bul ets sprayed.

It was shredding their torsos like
cheese,
halving their bodies. “Let’s
do
this! Rock out with your cocks out!”

When they’d al been dropped, Regin’s injured chest was screaming in pain, her ears ringing. Her gun

was hot, and she thought she might be a little infatuated with it.

Natalya said, “Let’s go!”

“Right behind you—”

Volós stepped in front of them, blocking their way, his body stretching nearly the width of the corridor.

“You killed that evil woman, Mister.”

Lothaire gazed up, spied some young male peering past the edge of the overhang. In no way had

Lothaire destroyed La Dorada. He’d only bought himself time.

“I saw you do it—we’re going to be al right now!”

He wanted to sneer, “Do I look al right, boy?” But his cause was greater than merely himself. And now

victory was possible. He simply needed assistance with this predicament.

His lips curled at the naïve immortal above him.
And then I need to replenish my strength
. “A hand, if you please.”

“Sure thing.” He lay flat at the edge, extending his arm down. “I’m Thaddeus Brayden. Cal me Thad.”

Lothaire took his hand, his eyes locked on Thaddeus’s neck, on the spot just below the metal torque.

His fangs throbbed for that skin.

As always, he had to be very careful whom he fed from—he balanced forever upon a razor’s edge—

and younger was ever so much better for him.

With a surprising strength, Thaddeus hefted him up to safety. “What’s your name?”

What manner of creature was he? Usual y Lothaire could tel at once, but this boy’s species eluded

him. “I’m Lothaire. The
Ally
of Old.” Not a lie. A female had once cal ed him that. “On to terra firma, then.”

“Terra whatta? Oh, yeah, sure thing.” Once they’d moved from the gorge to more stable ground, the

boy said, “Good to meet you, Mr. Lothaire.”

“Seems I owe you a debt of gratitude, Thaddeus.” Lothaire seized him by the neck, yanking the boy’s

back to his own chest.

“Wh-what the hel are you doing?” he demanded, futilely struggling.

As Lothaire lowered his head, he murmured, “Now I’l owe you a blood debt as wel .” He sank his

aching fangs into the male’s hot neck, drawing deep. …

THIRTY-FOUR

Y
ou don’t want to mix it up with us tonight, Flicka,” Regin warned the centaur king. Of course, he did
not
have a torque and had somehow scored not one but two swords. “Just let us pass.”

He stalked closer, swinging those swords with super-natural speed. Eyes on Natalya, he said,

“Vengeance is
mine
.”

“You have no quarrel with the Valkyrie,” Natalya said. “Let her go.”

“She’s a leader in the Vertas. This is our opportunity to crush al of you.”

Regin calmly aimed her rifle. “You’re an easy target. Lots of surface area to wound. Big-game

hunting’s my new fav—”

He charged them; Natalya screamed, “Regin, fire!”

“I’m going to grease him right now!” she yel ed, pul ing the trigger.

Nothing.

She banged the gun against her upraised knee, then tried again.
Oh, shit.

Volós bore down on them with his swords swinging, one ton of irate centaur male.

Regin ducked and chucked her rifle at him—he sliced through it. Natalya flung six shards of glass at

him. They plunged deep into his flanks, but he didn’t seem to feel them.

With a scream, the fey leapt for Volós’s side, swiping her poisonous claws across his body. But the

centaur was unaffected.

Regin realized why. The torque had neutralized al her powers—which meant her poison.

While Natalya gaped, Volós kicked out his back legs, his hooves speeding for Regin’s chest.

Fire. On me? Wake up. …

Declan forced his eyes open, shaking off the blackness.

Fuck! His armored vest was on fire. He jerked upright, shrugging free of the armor, knowing it was the

only reason he stil lived.

He scanned the area for the Sorceri. But they were gone, no doubt certain they’d kil ed him.

And while he’d been out, the Queen of Stone’s mountain had risen until the facility’s entire framework

shifted.

Realization sank in. There was no containment, no retaking the instal ation. This structure was about to

crumble to the ground. It was done. There’d be no self-destruct override.

So how long until the sequence timed out? He squinted down at his watch.

Less than half an hour left.

Mere minutes to get Regin to safety, and only one shite option available to him.

As soon as he’d lurched to his feet, nearby creatures turned their heads in his direction, ears or noses

twitching. Eyes zeroed in on him.
“Blademan,”
they whispered.
“It’s the magister.”

They attacked in a wave. He reloaded the rifle and opened fire, burning through another clip.

Too many of them. No time to reload. He shouldered the rifle and drew his sword, slashing his way

toward Regin’s ward.

In midstride he slowed, canting his head.
Regin’s scream.

Over the pandemonium, the roars and explosions, somehow Declan had heard her.

He pushed hard in that direction, evading opponents instead of engaging them. Sounds seemed to dim

until al he could hear was his heart thundering.

His body began to change. Blood pumped to his muscles—they drank it in as though starved for it,

growing, strengthening.

Final y he knew what to cal this.

Berserkrage. A beast stirs within me.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t resist, gave himself up to it. Never had he felt the transformation like this.
Because I’ve never done what I was born to do.

Protect her.

Lothaire recoiled from the boy, spitting a mouthful of blood.

Blood that was part vampire, yet masked by something else he couldn’t place. Lothaire wasn’t often

surprised, but this had taken him unawares.

Blyad’, we don’t drink our own!
He spun Thaddeus around, clutching his upper arms. “What are you?”

He gave him a shake. “What—are—you?”

The boy turned owl eyes up at him. “Th-they told me I’m a vampire.”

Lothaire spat once more. “Then they’ve only got half the story.” He released him with disgust, his fangs

aching so badly they’d likely turn blue.

“Are y-you gonna bite me again?” he asked, his gaze darting toward the frenzied combat ahead.

Lothaire scanned for another victim. “Consider me immune to your charms.” He started forward,

beings diving out of his way.

“Uh, okay. I’m just gonna trail behind you, mister, if you don’t mind. Let you run interference.”

Without slowing, Lothaire said, “You are as insignificant to me as a fly.”

“I’l take that as a yes. So where’re we headed?”

Lothaire absently said, “To find the Blademan.”
And get my ring. Finally.
He stormed toward Chase’s office.

When ghouls mindlessly rushed them, Lothaire dispatched them readily. Any creatures stupid enough

to attack him paid with their lives.

The boy had begun gazing up at him worshipful y.

As he should.

“Wait, Mr. Lothaire,” Thaddeus yel ed from behind him. “Those’re my girls up ahead! Or they used to

be. Might wanna kil me now that I’m a vampire and al . But they’re fighting with that gigantic horse thing.

Can you take him out and save them?”

Lothaire cast him a chil ing glance over his shoulder. “Aid a Valkyrie and a fey?”

The boy swal owed. “For that debt of gratitude?”

Lothaire eyed the centaur. Volós had pledged no al egiance to him.

If you’re not with me …

Regin leapt back, narrowly avoiding Volós’s hooves, tripping over a headless body. Natalya was stil

ducking under Volós’s swords, but he was too fast.
Just a matter of time.

Surveying the area, Regin spied another gun—this one attached to a downed guard’s hand. She

clambered across the floor to it, but the man was stil alive, barely. When she yanked on his rifle, he

yanked back with one hand, holding in his entrails with the other.

As she played gun tug-of-war, she saw Thad a short distance away. “Tiger! Ah, thank gods.”

He turned to her with a wobbly smile, cal ing out, “You don’t wanna kil me?”

“You’re such a douche!” she yel ed in answer, which made him grin wider. Then she noticed who he

was with.

Thad was fol owing
Lothaire
like a puppy; the kid hiked a thumb at the vampire, then gave her an okay signal.

“No, Thad, get away from him!” She snatched the gun free, aiming at Lothaire.

Click. Click.
Empty? Bal s!
Hate guns.

But as she watched in disbelief, Lothaire stole behind Volós, casual y raking his claws across the

centaur’s back legs, severing tendons. Volós began teetering, his legs bending at weird angles.

Like a shot, Lothaire was in front of him, calmly sidestepping Volós’s swords as if he could predict

exactly where the centaur would swing. The vampire stretched out one long arm and severed Volós’s

throat in a rush of blood.

When Lothaire cupped a handful of it to his mouth, Thad cried, “Dude! That’s disgusting.”

“It’s mother’s milk.” The vampire walked on as if he’d merely stopped to tie his shoe.