Like an Olympian throwing the hammer, I spun with my claws in his chest until I had the momentum to send him sailing across the room and head first into the stone wall. His blip in my head was losing color. I almost had him.
Voices began to register in the room, but I wasn’t listening. It sounded like so much white noise, a gnat circling my ear.
I went to the wall, yanked Dakila out. His eyes fluttered. His arms flexed, trying to move. I fisted my hand in his long hair, holding him up off the mat. I didn’t stop to think. It had to be done if Clive and I were walking out alive.
I raked my claws through his neck, his body dropping in dust and his head disintegrating in my grip.
Striding back to the center of the mat, I looked for Thomas and found only Clive watching me, eyes vamp black, a vicious smile on his face.
I do so love to watch you fight. His expression hardened. Down!
I hit the mat as he leaped over the top of me. Rolling over, I looked behind me and saw Clive ripping someone’s head off, effectively stopping the asshole trying to get the drop on me. It was Clive’s signature move for a reason.
“And that’s what you get, you big cheater.” Jeez. What happened to two against two? And what did the now headless guy have to do with Thomas and a dead Renfield?
I checked all the blips in my head, and three standing beside Chaaya had taken a step onto the edge of the mat. They weren’t as old or as strong as Dakila or Thomas or, for that matter, whoever Clive had just handed his final death to.
Turning to the side, I studied the three who didn’t seem completely sold on this idea. They wore matching expression of disgust and fear. I liked the fear.
“Yes?” I said. “Did you have a question for the class?”
Feeling Clive step up beside me, I squished one of the blips in my head and he dropped to the mat, his body a desiccated husk. The other two looked far less sure about taking us on.
Then I felt a power step out behind us.
Behind you! I’ve got these two.
The two glanced at their dead comrade and then at me alone, Clive busy fighting whoever was back there.
“So, I guess honor is just out the window at this point. I fought my accuser. What the hell gripe do you two have with me?”
“You gave Dakila his final death,” the one on the right said.
“Duh.” I shook my head. “They challenged us. We killed them. That’s how this works.”
Apparently, they were done justifying the attack because they streaked across the mat. I grabbed one of the blips and squeezed, popping it, as I leapt straight up, flipping forward and landing behind the one still enjoying his sort-of life for the moment. Sidestepping his buddy’s pile of dust, I slashed my claws at his neck but he ducked, so I only got the top of his head. His scalp was in ribbons, but he was still alive.
He landed a punch and I went flying. It was hard to breathe, but I stood and moved back. Squeezing his blip with all I had, I glanced at Clive’s fight in time to watch a head roll. My breathing was shallow. I had at least one broken rib. The guy hadn’t noticed Clive yet, but Clive had noticed me.
I’m okay, I told him.
You’re more than okay, he said, grabbing the last vamp’s head and crushing it between his hands. You’re magnificent. When the vamp was dead, Clive ripped off his head, seemingly as an afterthought.
We met in the middle of the mat, and he gave me a hard kiss. We were both still standing.
The rest of the vamps and minions watched us with varying degrees of mistrust, loathing, and fear. But there was one with a smile on his face. Vlad enjoyed a good ass kicking.
“Anyone else?” I asked.
Twenty-Five
The Shit Is Hitting the Fan
Clive addressed Sebastian before looking at all the other vamps assembled, “And this is what comes of being weak. The Guild has now lost four more Counselors. For what purpose? My mate and I do nothing to threaten my kind. I’ve made San Francisco my home for two centuries, but it’s only been the last year that we seem to be fighting wave after wave of aggression. Why is that? What’s changed?”
Expression hard, Clive scanned the room. “And don’t you dare say my wife. She has nothing to do with Garyn’s obsession?—”
“She does, though,” Cadmael said. “Your mate is not just a werewolf. We all witnessed that today. Before we saw her in action, we felt it. Do you think there’s any here—besides the humans—who didn’t feel her approaching the Guild when you first arrived? Who doesn’t feel the power, the magic radiating from her?”
