Byron tensed, a subtle movement of muscles most wouldn’t notice, but Karson did.
He moved in a flash, nails becoming claws. Bryon didn’t step aside. Instead, unpracticed in the art of fighting, and filled with a stupid rage, he rushed to meet him. Karson slammed a fist into his chest and Byron screamed. His body jerked to an abrupt halt, his back arching, arms flailing, and he stiffened like a speared fish as Karson’s hand slipped through skin, flesh, muscle, andbone. Karson jerked his hand back, and in it was a lump of pulped tissue, beating its last.
Byron collapsed into a heap as Karson tossed the heart against the wall.
There was utter silence, utter horror, the vampires frozen.
Karson smiled and held out his hands. “Who’s next?”
He thought the brief show of power would be enough to deter them. Hell was swarming with the souls lacking common sense.
They charged, lips peeled, fangs glinting. Karson spun and side-kicked, his boot slamming into the gut of one soon-to-be-dead golden-haired vampire. He flew backwards, slapping into the wall with a force that snapped his spine. He dropped, but it wouldn’t keep the bastard down; he’d heal and be up shortly. Karson kept spinning, arm outstretched, claws extended, ripping through another lowborn’s throat. Blood sprayed, splattering his shirt like spring rain. The vampire, eyes wide with horror, staggered back, clutching at his parted windpipe in a fruitless attempt to hold it together.
“Georgie.” It was Amelia’s voice, distant and faint, but he’d recognize it anywhere. What was she doing here? His heart leapt then plunged in the same heartbeat as he swung back. He knew it was a mistake as soon as he saw the mop-haired vampire pressed to the side of the lane holding a phone in his hand. She wasn’t here at all; they had recorded her voice.
He whipped back, but it was too late. He felt something hard punch into his side. A burning pain exploded through his stomach.
He’d been stabbed.
No matter, he’d faced far worse. But his legs staggered. The pain was red hot, searing through his body like fire. His skin broke into a cold sweat. He knew from the raw, ugly ache through his entire body that this was no ordinary blade. It was poisoned.
Fuck.
He didn’t normally like to swear. He thought it a display of the lowest articulated form of intelligence. But sometimes, there was no better word thanfuckto adequately express a situation. Maybe his newfound fondness for swearing was because he so often heard it from Amelia’s mouth, and there was nothing that came out of her mouth that he didn’t find oddly appealing.
They’d made another vital mistake—the vampire that stabbed him had left the blade in his body. Karson gritted his teeth as he yanked it out. Warm black blood rushed over his side.
The four vampires stood in front of him. Two were side by side. The dark-skinned one and the female hung back. The two on the ground were disabled for now—but healing.
The burn was like bolts of lightning electrifying his veins. His muscles stiffened and began to seize. If they rushed him now, he was all kinds of fucked.
They didn’t attack again though. They waited for him to drop. The sheer agony ripping through him might have dropped a lesser vampire.
He was not lesser.
However, he was struggling to stand, and had to brace his knees so he didn’t stumble and press the blade to his hip side to stop his hand from visibly trembling.
“I’d highly suggest you call it a night,” Karson drawled.
The vampires ran their eyes over his body as if analyzing how he could still be upright. A flicker of fear pinched their faces. The girl swallowed nervously and backed away, along with the dark-skinned guy. Good, they had at least a brain cell between them.
“Witch lover,” the mop-headed bastard sneered. “When I’m finished with you, I’m going to tear the bitch to pieces.”
Something stirred within Karson’s core. Something ancient, dark, lethal.
Kill him.
Fire glowed in his eyes as a deep, primal rage surged.
The vampires’ faces paled. The drumming beat of their terrified hearts drifted to his ears like a song. They’d never seen a firstborn’s fury. To hear of it was one thing, but to see it would be like staring at a scene of a horror movie. Caught off guard, they froze.
Even though every muscle inside him screamed, Karson lurched, teeth bared, the growl rumbling from his throat echoing against the night. A sound entirely inhuman.
The two vampires got over their shock, and their lips peeled back as they stood side by side and tensed to face him. It was another amateur mistake standing so close. Karson’s fingers still clutched around the blade, and with one fisted hand, he punched against the side of one vampire’s head while the other hand clutched the curly-haired vampire’s neck. He slammed their heads together so hard, the crack ricocheted into the night. Their skulls caved in like half-sunken loaves of bread. They lost their balance, wobbling wildly. Karson shifted his free hand to the curly-haired vampire’s head and his claws punched into the skull. The vampire didn’t scream; he opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Karson planted his foot on the other’s shoe and yanked upwards. There was apopas his head ripped clean from his shoulders. Karson tossed it to the wall and turned his attention to the other male. He staggered backwards, his eyes wild and dazed.
“No, please.” He held up his palms and wheezed. His head was horribly indented, juts of white bone and bits of brain leaking out of a crack. “We were only doing what we were ordered to do.” He spoke with an English accent, his words choked and slurred. “We didn’t have a choice, please.”
“Where is Sarah?” Karson snarled.
