"Later," Mike grumbled, keeping the barrel of his gun trained on her. "Get off me, bitch." Carlos cut a glance at the bartender as the Amanthra withdrew from Mike with sad eyes. A sexy female vampire had blown him a kiss, and he could tell she'd telepathically told the bartender to give him whatever he wanted. Although she remained on her barstool, she
shot random erotic images his way, then licked two fingers and dragged them down her cle**age.
"Keep dreaming, baby," Carlos muttered as she slid her hand up her shirt and released a soft moan. He glanced at Bobby and Dan to be sure that the redhead with crystal green eyes and double-D cle**age hadn't messed up the younger brothers.
"She has to do way better than that," Bobby said, totally unfazed. Dan pounded his fist, chuckling when she flipped them both the bird and strode away.
"Good night to you, too - skank."
"I guess after being called by Lilith, everything else in here is a minor temptation?" the bartender crooned, his handsome caramel-hued face flawlessly boyish as he smiled at Carlos. He lowered his luminescent brown eyes, delicate black lashes shadowing them as Carlos gave him a hard grit. "No response, strong silent type?"
"Your problem, dude?" Rider said in a half-snarl, leaning closer to a second-gen vamp than was normally advisable. "You wanna ease up off my brother before my trigger finger gets itchy?"
The bartender flinched to attempt a quick snatch at Rider, and six barrels pointed at him with distinctive clicks. He eased back with a sheepish grin and held both hands up in front of his chest.
"Like I said," Rider muttered through his teeth. "Wanna fix the man his drink and f**k off?"
"My apologies," the bartender murmured sensuously. "But the testosterone and adrenaline trail you gentlemen have is captivating the whole bar... with well-fed human blood as the foundation carrier, too - whew ... a damned delicacy that only the vixen herself could provide. Tell me, are you all off limits and only hers for dinner - is that why you're all so touchy - or did she send you as a gift for us? If she gave explicit orders, then no one would dare cross her... but if not..."
"Private label, neat," Carlos said in Dananu, ignoring the probing question.
"Yes, sir" the bartender said with an awed gasp. "And she trained you in the mother tongue, too? Do you all speak it, or just the hunk that smells incredible?" He drifted away and came back with Carlos's order. "Oh, wait 'til I tell the crew." His gaze perused the seven stone faces that were ig noring him and staring out on the floor, scanning the scene before them. "After she's done, you have to stay for a while and talk that nasty Dananu to me."
Carlos didn't respond, but made sure the horny vamp stayed in his peripheral vision until he moved away to serve other revelers. He kept his eyes roving for any signs of Yon-nie. In his mind, as much as this was gonna end up as a drive-by, he wanted to let his boy know that he was still family and had a haven - if things hadn't changed. But Car los quickly shook the futile thought. Any emotion considered soft and accidentally picked up on in here would get a man immediately smoked.
The team looked up in unison to see something they'd never seen before. A fine, brunette, female vamp still mov ing as mist had sidled up to Rider from behind. But before her hands slid across his shoulders, he'd vamp-snatched her and slammed her head against the bar, holding her by the throat.
"Never in the throat without my permission," Rider growled, a 9mm at her temple. "We clear?" He flung her away from him and eyed her with disdain. "Seconds. I hate 'em."
The team tried not to gape. Rider's speed was something they could talk about later, as well as how he'd seen her be hind him at the bar without turning around, as though he had vamp three-sixty sight line. Regardless, their cover was holding; the old-heads had it on lock. Female were-demons were smiling a little too much at Shabazz and Big Mike for Carlos's liking, but he had to let it go. Old tracers, he told himself. Carlos kept everybody in his peripheral vision. Lilith's lair was heavily fortified and the bouncers patrolling the upper rims were no joke. Standing seven feet tall with ten-inch fangs and barrel chests to rival WWE wrestlers, he knew they'd have to shoot those big bastards first, along with the Hell dogs they held by long chains. But any minor bar fights, even mortal combat down in the main pit, was nothing more than a floor show - and the spec tators would applaud the victor and eat the scraps when it was done. Therefore, for the moment, Carlos took a gamble that they could press for answers without causing a complete riot.
As soon as the bartender leaned over his drink and licked his lips at Carlos, offering him an Ecstasy-laced joint, Carlos snatched him over the bar hard and punched him in the face, breaking off a fang.
"You got something else to say after my boy told you to back the f**k up and stop sweatin' me?" Carlos had placed a 9mm at the bartender's temple so quickly that he couldn't mist out of his grasp.
The bartender put both hands up in front of his chest, his nervous, red glowing eyes darting between Carlos and eight menacing pairs of Guardian eyes. "Hey, hey, hey, you gen tlemen never said she'd sent you just for her bed and her dinner - we didn't know."
"So, where is that slimy bitch, anyway?" Carlos said, his lips curling into a snarl as battlelength fangs began to lower.
"She went below to give her husband his due," the bartender said, swallowing hard as his eyes went to half-mast. "Damn, I see why she sent for you, though ... are you sure you don't want anything, sir, until, she uh, returns?"
Fury tightened Carlos's grasp on the bartender's throat as he hurled him back against the glasses, breaking several bottles and shelves. "Get that motherfucker out of my face," he muttered and spun toward his team. "She ain't here Damn!"
"Fallon ain't either," Jose said, glancing around at the ap preciative vampire gazes as phantoms slipped between succubae and incubi, whispering. "So, brother?"
"Let's leave a calling card," Carlos said in a low, lethal voice. "Like right about now." Weapons came from under coats, double-handed firing in an automatic spray. Hallowedearth shells whizzed by like tracers, burning the very air as they met targets to incinerate. Guards from the upper levels hurled down to the floor as sulfur rose and screaming demons unprepared for the on slaught took cover, some dying in their mating frenzy only to look up at the last moment. Bat-winged Hell dogs swooped off the ledges bearing aciddripping fangs, their twelve glow ing eyes roving the floor with rage while their razorsharp spaded tails lashed wildly in the air. Mike dropped to one knee and pulled the compact shoul der launcher out of his coat, mounted it on his burly sinew, shoved in a shell from a hidden coat pocket, aimed, and fired. The splatter and cinders from one airborne pit bull ignited an other that accidentally flew through its path. Rider had gotten four bouncers in a single shell shot right through their heads with his right hand while firing the Gatling gun with his left.
Dan mowed down anything moving behind the bar and then advanced on the gaming tables. Jose was his tandem street sweeper with a snub-nosed pumping dead-aim, serving chest blasts into high-roller demons and splattering the gam ing tables' green felt. J.L. had run up the side of a cavern wall and balanced on a precipice in a Ninja move on the edges of his toes to draw a flock of Harpies to him. Blue-arc tactical charge held him in place as he lifted his weapons and took steady aim. As soon as they got within range J.L. released a hail of bullets from an assault rifle, dropping burning bodies, then pivoted off the cliff edge to land on his feet with Bobby covering him.
Berkfield had run into the teaming throng of an orgy, nulled the pins on two grenades with his teeth, hurled them, and dove for safety behind a bar. But a were-demon looked up at the same time he did. In two seconds, Berkfield had drawn and blown the back of the demon's skull off. Bobby was over the bar in a blink, and reached down to yank his fa
ther up. They stood back-to-back, firing at anything coming their way, blowing demon guts out and spattering gook everywhere.
Carlos flung his spent weapons to Big Mike and Rider, his goal now to run deep into the cavern, headed for Lilith's shrine - her bed. The outer area was like her foyer; he had to go in deep to make an impact in her house.
Hand-to-hand combat brought him surreal pleasure. All the shit they'd taken him through
... Raw battle-frenzy rippled through Carlos's system as he heart-snatched stunned male sentries and neutered drone lovers on the way to Lilith's golden, demon-headed sanctuary. To defile that car nal place would definitely send her a message: her primary lair had been breached after all these centuries, the squad that did it went for broke, and she was vulnerable - thus weak, and her reinforcements weren't shit against the Guardian forces. But the moment he neared the high monument that sat alone on a steep crag of black malachite almost a half-mile deep into her lair, a giant black cobra - her regular lover and familiar - uncoiled from under her bed in a jealous rage, green eyes glowing, black scales gleaming, fangs dripping as it hissed. He could feel the thing before him hesitate, clearly not sure if Lilith had sent him as a new playmate, but furious at the invasion. Carlos outstretched his arm and drew the blade of Ausar into his grip.