Balthazar gasped, tilting backward. He lifted a hand toward Virgil, who flinched back, but in his state, Balthazar couldn’t cast a spell. He fell backward, falling against his desk. Virgil lunged again, pulled the knife free, then stabbed Blathazar again and again.
Virgil huffed and puffed as he stood and inspected his robes and shoes, obviously looking for blood spatter or smears. Happy with his clothing, he walked over to the recording stone. He reached up, grinning from ear to ear.
Virgil was chuckling as the last image played out, but Wendy had become a twisting, growling monster. The harder she fought, the tighter Virgil held. I tried to fight as well, but my strength was nowhere near where it should have been. I felt like a child in his arms, and I wondered if the collars sapped more than just our magic.
Wendy sank her teeth into Virgil’s arm, so hard that blood burst from between her lips.
Virgil screamed and backhanded her. “You little bitch!”
Wendy fell backward. Her lip was split, and blood dripped from it. Sobbing, she clutched her face.
With a roar, I leapt at him, swinging a fist at his face. The blow glanced off his cheek, knocking his glasses off, but it barely rattled him. Without access to my wolf, my strength was depleted.
As I was winding up for a second strike, he swung his hand at me. His palm cracked against my cheek, sending a flash of white light across my vision.
He grabbed my throat, squeezing tight right above the collar. I coughed and gagged, trying to catch my breath. I beat at his arm, but in my weakened state, it felt like I was hammering my fists against steel.
“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “A talentless cunt like you? You should know how to act around your betters. Once I’ve completed the—agh, fuck!”
Wendy had jumped onto his back and sunk her teeth into the side of his neck like a little vampire. I tried to scramble to my feet and help, but I was dizzy, and I fell sideways, hitting the carpeted floor with a grunt.
Virgil grabbed Wendy by the hair and yanked hard until she loosened her teeth. In one quick movement, he twisted and slammed her against the wall. Her head bounced off the wall, and she crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
I cried out and crawled over to her.
“I’m gonna bleed her out,” Virgil said, backing away and rubbing at the teeth marks on his neck. “Take what should have been mine, and I’m gonna enjoy it.”
He opened the door and turned back one last time to spit on the floor at our feet. “Enjoy what time you have left with that little bitch,” he muttered, then slammed the door.
Pulling Wendy back into my lap, I rocked her, stroking her head. I prayed she didn’t have some sort of brain damage. I recalled the song that had played from her clock in her room. It seemed like that had been years ago, but I remembered the melody clearly. Taking a shaky breath, I began to hum it to her, hoping she could somehow hear it even though she was unconscious.
“Please, Declan,” I whispered to the quiet room. “Please hurry.”
21
DECLAN
I had no fucking clue where this crypt was. Until I did, Nyxia couldn’t transport me there. The Tacitus family were clearly important in the magical world, yet I’d never heard of them. Someone had to know where the crypt was.
I walked away from The Pit, my pace faster than normal. Every second that ticked by sent my anxiety higher. All I could think of was what might be happening to Veronica and Wendy. That Virgil fucker had incinerated his own brother for promising to help me. It terrified me to think what he might do to them.
Stopping at a crosswalk, I got my bearings and realized I was only a few blocks from Tombstone Station. The scowl on my face faded. I might be able to get some info there.
By the time I arrived, it was nearly two in the morning. The sky was pitch black, the lights of the city the only illumination. The denizens of Tombstone Station were out and about in full force. While not as boisterous and chaotic as The Shadow Streets, this place was a close second for the areas in and around Chicago. I passed the alley where my apartment safe house was. The doorstill hung off the hinges, and flickering light and music played from within. Those two dumbass shifters had taken me up on the offer to crash there. I moved on, leaving it behind.
Toward the end of the street, I came to a moderate-sized apartment complex and found who I was looking for sitting on the stoop outside.
“Good evening, Hathor. You’re still going by Hathor, right?”
The vampire, a Black man with a shaved head and multiple piercings, turned slowly toward me, his motions languid and bored.
“Oh, my. Declan McClintoc? As I live and breathe,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest.
This being was one of the oldest creatures I’d ever met. Allegedly, he’d been a priest to one of the first pharaohs of Egypt before being turned. Thousands of years walking the earthly plane, and he was growing bored with the world. How could you not after all that time? He’d also been around so long that he had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the paranormal world.
“What brings you to these dark streets after so long?” Hathor said, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees.
“I need information. Can you help with that?”
