“Lots of movement, my side of the house. I think it’s a basement exit of some—”
“On it,” Nick interrupted, and then he was gone.
Kathryn dropped the binocs and put her eye to her scope instead. These were almost certainly Klemens’s vampires. Lucas had insisted she wouldn’t be able to kill them with her rifle, but he’d probably never seen what a .50 caliber round could do. A shot to the head would split a person’s skull right down the middle like Play-Doh and pulverize the brain. Not even a vampire could survive that. But she hadn’t particularly wanted to kill anyone tonight, so she’d gone with Federal Match Grade .308 Remington 168-grain slugs instead. Sighting on the emerging vampires, she didn’t bother with detailed target selection. She just moved the crosshairs from one lump of darkness to the next and pulled the trigger. The first couple howled in surprise as the bullets tore into them. As Lucas had said, it obviously hurt like hell, and it definitely slowed them down. They spun in circles, searching for the shooter, but she just kept firing, and they were soon more preoccupied with evading her bullets than figuring out where they were coming from.
“My guys are on scene, Hunter,” Nick warned urgently.
Kathryn stopped firing and switched to binocs as the first of Lucas’s vampires engaged their enemy. If she’d thought the death of the human guard on the front porch had been violent, this took it to a whole new level. There was no posturing among the vamps, no jockeying for position, they just stepped in and started ripping each other apart. Knives, fangs, hands curved into claws as they slashed and tore at each other. Heads were ripped from bodies, then tossed aside, the bodies poofing to dust before her eyes. Another vampire was run through with a wicked knife. He grabbed his chest and laughed, until Lucas’s warrior stabbed him a second time, straight through the heart. Then he, too, became nothing more than a pile of dust.
Kathryn’s heart was hammering, adrenaline setting her nerves on a knife’s edge as she watched something she knew few humans would ever see. In moments, there was no one left at the basement window but Lucas’s vamps. And not a dead body in sight.
“All clear, Hunter,” Nick informed her. “Good work.”
“Roger,” she managed, her hand shaking as it dropped away from her ear. Dust. Vampires were hard to kill, but they really did turn to dust when it happened. Her bosses at the FBI would be thrilled with the intel she could bring them from this night’s activities. She might even get a promotion out of it, maybe something that would get her out of the office and back into the field again. She placed a hand over her pounding heart and thought about loyalties. She didn’t know exactly where hers lay anymore. It was a troubling thought.
Someone screamed from deep within the house. Then, as if that first scream had freed them all from a spell of silence, the night was filled with the sounds of battle. It was the stuff of nightmares, and all Kathryn could think was that Lucas was in there somewhere, and she had no idea what was happening. Or whether she’d ever see him alive again.
Lucas stood before his enemy’s front door, every ounce of power and knowledge he possessed focused on one thing, spreading fear and confusion among Klemens’s vampires. Right up until the moment he’d stepped out of the SUV at Klemens’s gate, he’d been using his strength to stop his rival vampire lord from pinpointing his presence. But this close, that was futile. His power signature would be far too strong, and Klemens was far too wily. The minute they’d arrived at the estate, even as he was verifying the location of his warriors around it, and Kathryn, too, in her perch high above the battle, he’d been using his unique talent to whisper in the ears of Klemens’s warriors, warning them of invaders sneaking around the corner on a breath of wind, of death tapping their shoulders and snatching away their courage. Their terror fed his power, as rich and sweet as blood from the vein. He didn’t relish this part of his talent, this ability to draw strength from the fear of others. But this was war, and if it came down to a choice of who would die this night, he’d use every talent he possessed to make certain it was Klemens and his vampires who bit the big one before the next sunrise.
Lucas spared a thread of power to search for his enemy, the delicate probe slipping through the cracks to search every corner of the eyesore of a house before him. Very soon, he’d have to suck his power back into himself and leave the larger battle to his warriors, because somewhere in there, Klemens was waiting. No matter how many of the Chicago vampires Lucas’s fighters destroyed, the real battle, the only one that really counted, was the showdown between the two vampire lords.
The front door opened only to be torn from its hinges by the raging wind of Lucas’s power. He squinted against the sudden shaft of white light as two heavily armed humans staggered into the opening. McKinney’s guards, he assumed, and they were getting ready to fire. Several of Lucas’s vampires were suddenly in front of him, guarding him with their bodies while two of their number made the dash across the frost-covered lawn and took down the humans before they even managed to bring their weapons to a full firing position. The two men screamed, their voices cut off as their necks were snapped. One of Lucas’s vampires fed briefly, ripping out the human’s throat as his heart beat its final tattoo. But the feeding was more symbolic than anything else—a predator claiming his victory before tossing the limp body aside.
Aggravated by the bright light, which had no place in a vampire’s residence, Lucas reached out and fried the local power grid. The entire neighborhood sank into blessed darkness. Next to him, Nick stiffened to attention, then rapidly deployed several warriors to one side of the house. Lucas heard the repeated pop of several gunshots and glanced up at the neighboring house. A muzzle flash confirmed Kathryn’s location, and he grinned. So, she got to shoot her rifle after all. And she didn’t seem to be having any second thoughts about it, either. Maybe he’d make a warrior of her yet.
His gaze shifted to the black hole of a front entry. He tugged on the thread of his power and found Klemens.
You should have killed me when you had the chance, he thought mockingly, and let the thought carry to the second story where Klemens waited.
Tonight will do just as well, you mick scum. Klemens’s mental voice was filled with venom.
Lucas almost laughed at the petty slur and thought the Chicago vampire must really be worried if he was resorting to such superficial insults. Lucas sent one final nightmare speeding through the enormous mansion, his blood pumping with adrenaline as a flood of terror rushed back to him. He soaked it in, then walked through the front door and up the stairs.
The battle raged as he made his way through the house, his warriors moving silently around him, lethal wraiths who brought permanent death wherever they went. The first screams were the final cries of vampires caught by surprise, still muffled by the blanket of darkness he’d dropped over the house. But as he climbed the stairs, gathering his power back into himself for the final battle, the noise level increased. Vampires howled in agony and roared in triumph. Bodies crashed through walls and tumbled over balconies. Klemens’s people fought back viciously, knowing what was at stake, recognizing the depth of their danger. Lucas had no doubt they were being goaded to a desperate defense by their master, who remained tucked away in his place of power, waiting for Lucas, like a fat spider in its web.
Lucas moved swiftly down the second floor corridor, all alone now. Even Nicholas had been drawn away into the frenzied battle raging all around him. Lucas moved with purpose, though he’d never been in this house before, Klemens’s presence drawing him as surely as a red arrow flashing in the dark.
He found the Chicago vampire lord in an old-fashioned trophy room. Animal heads were mounted on the walls, and a collection of ancient weapons hung over the huge fireplace where glowing embers revealed the dying light of a recent fire. The room reeked of fresh blood, and Lucas knew he wouldn’t have to worry about killing Hector McKinney. Klemens had slaughtered the crime boss, draining him dry to fuel the contest to come.
Klemens appeared out of the shadows, standing from behind the desk. Blood, still warm from McKinney’s beating heart, clung to Klemens’s clothing and dripped from his fangs. He grinned at Lucas, his hands still curved into the claws that had ripped his former ally to shreds.
“Come to die at last, Lucas?”
Lucas smiled easily, flashing his own fangs as he prepared for the fight of his life. Klemens was powerful, but young, as vampires go. He was strong, but inexperienced, wielding his power like a cudgel. He was a gorilla with a big club. Lucas, on the other hand, had power and experience. His was a more refined fighting style, death by a thousand cuts. He was going to savor every single slice of Klemens’s flesh before he killed him.
Lucas lashed out without warning, carving into the big femoral artery of Klemens’s left leg, then immediately snatching his power back into a tight shield around himself. Klemens howled at the unexpected attack and fought back exactly as Lucas had expected he would. A thundering stroke of power slammed against Lucas’s shields, a tactic that would have driven him to his knees if he hadn’t been prepared for it. But Lucas didn’t waste time analyzing his enemy’s strategy. Instead, he responded immediately, slashing at Klemens left and right, over and over again, his power like a many-tailed whip whose barbed ends cut into his enemy from every direction, from high and low. Klemens roared as he struggled to protect himself from Lucas’s unconventional attack. He flung out a hand, and Lucas staggered. It was like a huge boulder slamming against his shields, but though they bowed under the assault, they never broke. And like his shields, Lucas never faltered. He snarled his hatred as he sliced the flesh from Klemens’s bones, severing arteries and veins, driving the Chicago lord to his knees as his legs gave way, unable to support him.
Klemens gave a deep-throated howl of rage and swept his arms outward. Lucas recoiled as every animal head mounted on the walls came flying toward him at once, physically striking his shields from all sides. It was a desperate move on Klemens’s part, meant to distract more than injure, and it nearly worked.
