“Oh! Tristan! I think we found it,” I shouted, my anger replaced by surprise and jubilation. “Over here!”
I tugged on his hand, pulling him with me. We took two strides toward the wrinkle when a large Jeep burst out of that space, charging right at us. A musical laugh chimed over the grinding of tires on sand and gravel as the Jeep slid to a stop twenty yards in front of us. Tristan and I spun back around, but had nowhere to go. We were surrounded. Six Jeeps encircled us—some drivers and occupants with fangs, some with wands, and yet others quivering, about to transform.
“Sorry to spoil your spat,” Vanessa chimed. “I was quite enjoying it, and it kept you nicely distracted.”
Tristan squeezed my hand, and I knew he was about to flash and I was to follow him. But before we had a chance, the air around us whooshed upward, and our surroundings suddenly changed, like an abrupt scene change in a movie. We stood in the center of a wide road, a handful of old, brick buildings and squat houses spread out beyond the Jeeps. Kuckaroo. Vampires, shifters, and mages surrounded the Jeeps that surrounded Tristan and me.
“These two are mine but the rest are fair game,” Vanessa yelled.
Chaos erupted. The vampires became blurred streaks as they flew at each other. Daemoni shifters changed on the fly as they lunged at their enemy cousins, bits of skin and goo—were-pulp—raining down on us. Magic spells shot around and across the circle. Jaws snapped. Buildings and Jeeps burst into flames. The screech of metal against stone echoed off the buildings.
Vanessa laughed maniacally, then lifted her arms and jumped toward me, flying across the twenty yards between us.
I knew what she planned to do before she did it, but I saw a chance to retrieve my necklace wrapped around her gloved arm, so I didn’t stop her. Just as she was close enough to touch, her fangs bared for the bite, I ducked out of her way and reached for the pendant. My fingers brushed her ice-cold shoulder, and a spark crackled as they barely touched the ruby. Damn it! I missed, but her fangs didn’t—they sliced across the inside of my arm, from wrist to inner elbow.
I didn’t have vampire skin, but close enough, and, just as they can cut through their own skin, vampire fangs could cut through mine. Vanessa’s left a deep gash that didn’t heal instantly, and they couldn’t have been more precise on the vein. Blood spurted to the rhythm of my speeding heart.
And I was suddenly surrounded by ravenous vampires. Including ours.
If there was any blood even Amadis vamps with the highest control couldn’t resist, it would be mine. Owen had called it an energy drink for vamps—and that was before the completion of the Ang’dora. Now it was more powerful, and the vamps could smell it. They closed in on me.
Tristan let out a deafening growl, and the vampires flinched. At once, he held one hand out and hit the Daemoni vampires with his power, and with his other hand, grasped my wrist, lifted my arm to him, and ran his tongue along the gash. I could feel it starting to heal before, but his saliva sealed it instantly, stopping the blood flow.
“Well, isn’t that sweet,” Vanessa sang right before Tristan swung his hand toward her. She disappeared with a pop.
Her retreat signaled the rest of the Daemoni. The vampires, disabled by Tristan, disappeared first. He hit the shifters the best he could without hitting our own as they fought, and the evil ones ran away. We both aimed at the mages who shot spells everywhere, some hitting buildings, some hitting our people. We blasted them together, cutting off their spells, and they finally flashed, too.
The air hung still and silent long enough for me to take in the destruction—burning buildings and vehicles sent smoke plumes skyward, injured Amadis moaned with pain, and crumpled bodies lay motionless on the ground. But not long enough for someone to finish yelling “Shield!”
Popping sounds filled the air as a new round of Daemoni appeared. After all these years, I still recognized the leprechaun face of Ian, the former Amadis who’d told me about the arranged marriage between Tristan and me, and the narrator of the beheading video. He quickly threw his hands in the air, as if in surrender, as he’d done with Tristan so many years ago.