“He’ll use you,” Christian insisted. “He’ll kill you just to weaken me.”
“Fuck,” Marc swore, then leaned in to say grimly, “Draw on me for power, Christian. Use whatever you need.”
“It won’t come to that,” Christian assured him. “But I’ll use you if I need to,” he continued before Marc could protest. “Now leave this battle to me.”
Marc’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, and joined Cibor in grabbing Scoville, who was sagging badly. They moved off into the dark next to the outpost, far enough away to avoid getting caught in the back splatter, but close enough to see what was going on. Christian could feel them there, still too close. But he knew Marc would never leave altogether.
“It’s sweet how you care for your child and the others,” Hubert sneered. “You protect them now, but do you think I won’t kill them once you’re dead?”
Christian didn’t bother to answer the taunt. “Enough talk, Hubert. This has been building since the day we met. Let’s finish it.”
Hubert’s vampires shifted en masse, shuffling in a wave to cluster behind him, growling their weird noise, straining forward with fangs dripping as if hungry for their enemy’s blood.
Tired of the posturing, Christian paced forward deliberately to close the distance between them. He knew Hubert, knew that he liked to fight from a distance, with power lobbed like baseballs, slamming into his enemy and breaking his shields, until he launched the fatal blow. But Christian wasn’t going to let him get away with that. He was going to force the older vampire out of his comfort zone and into his.
Calling on the discipline of his Krav Maga training, Christian drew his power into a solid core deep inside his chest. Nothing was wasted, nothing was random. Even his shields were pulled in close to his body, until they were a hard shell of defiance. Raising his arms before him, hands as stiff as blades, he pushed deliberately into Hubert’s space until their shields touched, buzzing like a flight of angry bees as they strained against one another. It hurt like hell. But Christian ignored the pain, and shoved even harder until he was close enough to see fear beneath the rage in Hubert’s eyes.
Hubert fought back, slamming a fist into Christian’s ribs. But this was not the fighting style he was accustomed to, and the blow lacked power. He shrieked in rage, and several of his minions collapsed as the vampire lord sucked away their life force to power his own.
But while Hubert was focused on killing others to recharge his strength, Christian was focused on killing Hubert. Stiffening his fingers into a weapon, and putting all of his considerable strength behind it, he slammed it through Hubert’s shields and into his neck, ripping through skin and tendon and shredding his veins.
All around them the zombie vamps keened as Hubert staggered, eyes wide with shock as blood poured from his neck. Teeth bared, he came after Christian, taking advantage of their closeness, fingers spitting power as he plowed a fist into Christian’s gut, trying to dig through and reach for his heart.
Christian went to his knees, groaning under the assault. Every tear to his flesh, every rip in his organs was agonizing. But this was it; this was his moment. If he failed now, he would die, and Marc would die with him. He thought of Natalie, of what Anthony might do to her when he was gone, of how he would use her family to get what he wanted from her.
Never.
Forcing himself to his feet, dragging his arms upward, and drawing from Marc who had left himself wide open as a well of strength, Christian clapped both hands over Hubert’s ears, putting enough power behind it to rattle his brain. Hubert’s shields buckled under the concussive force, and he screamed in pain. He fell back, blood streaming from his ears and neck, hatred spilling from his eyes. He gathered his power once more, and the minions closest to him collapsed, sucked dry to feed their master. Hubert aimed a smug smile at Christian.
“You have your one,” he taunted, his face a gruesome visage above the bloody ruin of his neck. “But I have many.”
Christian staggered backward as Stefano Barranza sprang up from his concealment amidst the zombie vamps. His sword was a blur of movement, and Christian was forced to defend himself, forming a sword of his own, energy against steel. He girded himself for a fight, knowing the danger of turning his attention away from Hubert. But before Barranza could attack, Marc was there. Lobbing fireballs at Barranza from the side, he forced the other vampire to defend himself or die. Marc’s pain speared through Christian when Barranza succeeded in closing the distance, aiming that deadly blade at Marc’s belly, but he danced away easily, and Cibor stepped in, matching Barranza blade for blade.
A tingling awareness spun Christian around a moment too late. Taking advantage of Christian’s preoccupation, Hubert renewed his attack. Fed by his remaining zombie vamps, who were dying around him in waves, he gathered all of his remaining strength, and threw it at Christian in a single, boulder-sized ball of power.
Christian groaned when it crashed into his shields. That fucking hurt! He stumbled to one side, and nearly went down, cursing himself the whole time for getting sidetracked, grateful that his shields had managed to protect him. No more distractions. Marc and Cibor could more than hold their own against Barranza. His job was to get rid of Hubert. The European was the key to everything.
Hubert had to die.
Christian stared at his enemy through shuttered eyelids, his lips stretched into a grim smile as he gathered his power and considered his options. His thoughts churned over everything he’d learned in the last few minutes, everything he’d known about Hubert before this clusterfuck got started. Foremost was the realization that Hubert’s shields were weaker than they should be, much weaker than he’d expected. He shouldn’t have been able to get through them with that neck strike early on in the fight. He knew he could use that, if he could only think how. And he had to think quickly. As powerful as he was, his strength wasn’t endless. He was still hurting from Hubert’s successful attacks, and his gut felt like it had been chewed up and shoved back into his skin.
An idea blinked to life. He needed to turn the tables on Hubert, to distract him just long enough for his plan to work. Because if he failed, they would all die.
He started forward grimly, closing the space between them once again, intent on taking away the security of distance. Hubert shouted his defiance and charged ahead, his teeth bared in confidence as he brandished a sword of pure, sparkling energy before him. Howling in victory, he stabbed Christian repeatedly, easily penetrating his shields and piercing his already damaged gut.
Christian staggered, grunting in pain. He’d counted on Hubert’s response and anticipated the strike, but not the agony. Had he thought the earlier attack had hurt? That was nothing compared to this. Forcing himself to concentrate, he gathered his remaining strength for one final blow, putting everything he had left into it. Curling his right hand into a fist, he crashed through Hubert’s shields and struck his chest right over his heart with the full force of his power. The blow was hard enough to shatter ribs, hard enough to stop Hubert’s heart for a few precious seconds.
Hubert’s eyes flashed wide and he fell to his knees, gasping for air. No heart pumping meant no blood flowing, and no vampire symbiote racing through his body. It sent his entire system into chaos for a brief moment, giving Christian just enough time to utilize the unique power that was his alone, the power granted him on the night he became vampire. He wrapped his fingers around Hubert’s throat and squeezed, draining his power along with his life, drinking it up to bolster his own flagging strength. The infusion of power bumped Christian’s strength to unheard-of levels. It wouldn’t last forever, but it was his for now. And more importantly, it was no longer Hubert’s.
Hubert stared, life fading from his eyes as he gazed up at Christian. “What did you do?” he whispered. And then he smiled, almost in admiration. “Mathilde never told me.”
“Mathilde never knew,” Christian said flatly. He opened his fingers and released the vampire lord’s neck as his body became nothing more than dust mixing with the corpses of his army.
Christian spun back just in time to see Marc slice Barranza’s neck with his own blade, then shift his grip, and stab him in the heart. Marc sagged to one knee, and Christian started for him, but stopped when the fine hairs on the back of his neck all came to sudden attention.
“What the hell was that?” demanded an unfamiliar voice.
Houston, TX