Then he remembered the gasoline. Halfway across the building, a blood-curdling yelp sounded from the back. He looked over his shoulder at the Mage delivering multiple energy blasts on Krys’s wolf.
Atticus dropped the Vampire’s legs and kicked in his skull with a sickening crunch. When the wolf’s labored breathing filled his ears, he sprinted toward the skirmish. The Mage was straddling Krys’s wolf while assaulting him with energy strong enough to kill a Shifter.
Atticus moved in swiftly and kicked the man so hard that he flew into a row of filing cabinets. Krys’s heartbeat was faint, and that’s when it hit him that the Mage hadn’t been blasting him with energy—he’d been juicing him.
“Dammit. He was stealing your energy.”
Vampire blood wouldn’t help the wolf, so Atticus reluctantly fed the lab worker his blood to heal him.
The bearded man snapped to attention and blinked up at Atticus.
“What is your rare gift?” Atticus held his gaze to charm the truth out of him.
“I’m a Healer.”
“Use your Mage powers to heal that wolf. Do as I say.”
The man crawled over the wolf and placed his hands on Krys’s side. Blue threads of light leaked out from his fingertips like cobwebs, and the wolf groaned and stirred with life.
Once he finished the transfer, the Mage sat back. “That’s all I can do.”
Atticus lifted him up by his collar. “No. There’s one more thing you can do for me.Die.”
He sank his fangs into the Mage’s neck and drank until his heart stopped. Then he threw the husk of a man aside. Although the Mage might eventually regenerate, it wouldn’t be for a very long time. And Atticus had plans for this place.
Krys morphed back to human form. “Ffffuck.” Lying naked on his side, he pushed himself up and staggered around. “What the hell happened?”
“The Mage juiced your wolf.” Atticus looked toward the front of the building and spotted the Vampire sitting up. “Can you fight?”
Krys picked up the stake. “I got this motherfucker.”
Before Atticus could argue, Krys ran like a warrior into battle without a stitch of clothing on. Atticus watched him with admiration. Not many men had the fortitude to bounce back from a Mage attack and still be up for a fight.
Just as he stepped forward to help, a door creaked behind him.
Suddenly the lights shut off.
Atticus pivoted and sharpened his Vampire vision. Standing before him was a face he’d seen once before—a face carved into his memory. He wasn’t certain at first if maybe he was misremembering until he saw the distinctive neck tattoo. Atticus drew in a gasp, which made the Vampire cock his head.
“Do I know you?” the man asked. “You look at me as if we’ve met.”
“Three thousand years ago, you killed everyone in a village.”
The tall man shrugged, his long black hair shifting with the motion. “The dregs of civilization—they all run together.”
“There was a pregnant woman in a tavern who served you ale and refused your salacious offer. You killed her.”
The man turned his gaze upward, displaying the ancient demonic symbols tattooed on his neck. “Ah yes. The wench.” Then he squinted at Atticus. “You were the arrogant boy—the one who warned me to stay away.”
“You should have listened.”
“As should you.” He gave a sardonic grin. “Now you know what happens to those who cross me. You were a sniveling boy when I left that village, but I see you couldn’t avoid trouble. I meant what I said: her bloodwassweet.” With lightning speed, the Vampire shadow walked across the room.
Atticus sprinted after him. “Coward!”
The ancient ceased running and turned on his heel. “Show your elder respect, you insolent fool.”
“What do they call you?”
