Claimed by Shadow Page 0,139

in the face by a sandbag on a rope that had fallen from the rafters. It was one of four that were swinging around, being dodged easily by most vamps, except the one who hadn't been paying attention. It had to have weighed fifty pounds, and had got up a lot of momentum on its arc. By the time I noticed it, there was no time to do anything but take it. It knocked me off my feet and I went skidding on my back for several yards.

"Dislocator!" Stoker had collapsed onto the stage, and unfortunately it was on his stomach. He screamed, but it was the same odd word, over and over.

I scrambled back up as the duelists paused, looking down at the small sphere at their feet. Everyone froze for half a second. Then the Senators melted away, flowing out of the theatre as quickly as they'd come into it, Mircea grabbed Billy and jumped straight up to the rafters, and Dracula ran towards us after snatching up Stoker. Pritkin threw an arm around my waist and took a flying leap off the stage. We landed in the orchestra pit, and because he'd rolled us at the last minute, he took the brunt of the impact.

It knocked him out and rattled my teeth, and the next second, a wave of power shot over our heads from stage level. The bomb must have found something to connect with, maybe some of the fallen vamps. If so, I didn't think they'd be getting up again. The impact had felt nothing like a null bomb. It was darker and almost greasy, and in no way would ever be mistaken for a defensive weapon.

I raised my head to find that I was almost nose to nose with Dracula. He looked strangely pleased to see me; then I was staring at the knife hilt sticking out of my chest, right between the third and fourth ribs. It hurt, but not like I would have expected. There was no bright, searing pain, and very little blood. That might have been because Augusta hadn't fed recently or because the bastard had missed her heart by a fraction of an inch.

Vlad was preparing to take off her head, why I couldn't imagine. Maybe because she was helping Mircea? Maybe because he was a nut? Who knew? But he was taking his time about unsheathing the long knife at his side. The one he'd used on me was one of Pritkin's-he must have pulled it out of his own flesh-but this one looked like an old family weapon, with a heavy, inlaid grip and a fine, polished blade. Too bad he wouldn't get a chance to use it.

"Billy, you're about to have company!" My yell echoed off the theatre walls. "Get down here.”

"You have caused me a great deal of trouble," Dracula was telling me as my body tore towards us across the stage. 'I will enjoy this.”

"I doubt it," I said, and shifted.

A very confusing split second later, I ended up almost running off the stage. Billy screamed in my head and I stopped, balancing on the very edge. It gave me a perfect view of Dracula getting acquainted with Senate member Augusta. He should have decapitated her without the fanfare while he had the chance. As it was, she was more than happy to give a demonstration of exactly how she'd gotten onto the Senate in the first place. What she lacked in fighting skill she made up for in ruthlessness and utter practicality. She tore Pritkin's knife out of her chest, ignoring the splitting, fleshy sound it made, and stabbed it into Dracula's while he was still gloating over his kill.

Unlike him, she didn't miss.

I saw the shock on his face as the heart was pierced, and heard the sound of metal splitting wood when the knife hit the floor below. She sank it deeply enough to trap him like a bug on a pin, then snatched off the arm from one of the first-row seats nearby, using his heirloom to carve the end into a nice, jagged point. The metal weapon wouldn't kill him, although it didn't seem to be doing him any good, but the stake would. Augusta glanced up, as if waiting for me to intervene, but I just looked at her. I'd saved one of Mircea's brothers; I didn't owe him two.

Augusta's arm flashed down, almost too fast to see. But the makeshift stake hit only the floor of the