Bane's Choice (Vampire Motorcycle Club #1) - Alyssa Day Page 0,116
looked across the field and smiled. “Now it’s just you and me, necromancer.”
Constantin, starting to look a hell of a lot less certain than he had before, took a step back. “I’ll live to fight another day, vampire. And we will have your territory. The Chamber is moving into North America, and we’re starting here, just like we did hundreds of years ago.” He raised his arms again, but this time, Bane could feel the necromancer call to his dark magic.
And he was ready for it.
Instead of trying to block or defend, he stepped sideways into the Between and—half a second later—stepped out directly in front of Constantin’s ugly, sneering face.
“Not this time, asshole.”
And then he ripped the necromancer’s head off and, using an extra push of magic, set it on fire and hurled it all the way down the hill into the river.
…
Ryan caught the warlock’s boot in both hands and twisted, hard, because she’d learned self-defense a long time before she’d ever been involved with magic, warlocks, or vampires. Then she punched her in the side of the knee, dislocating her patella and knocking her to the ground, where Sylvie lay clutching her leg and shrieking.
Ryan jumped up off the ground. “That’s anatomy class, you witch!”
Sylvie, her shrieks turning into whimpers, started to chant, and Ryan crouched down and punched her in the face. “I don’t think so. You’re done here. Give up, or I’ll really hurt you.”
“I will. I surrender! Please don’t hurt me anymore,” the warlock begged, tears starting to run down her face.
“That’s what I thought.” Ryan stood again and turned to find Bane—to see what was happening—and suddenly, Meara raced past her, carrying a freaking sword.
Before Ryan could utter a word, Meara swung the sword with one powerful motion, and Sylvie’s head rolled off her shoulders and down the hill.
Ryan stared, speechless, and then slowly turned to face Meara. “What? But…but I defeated her. She was—”
“She was getting ready to stab you in the back,” Meara said, pointing to a slim dagger still clutched in the headless body’s hands. “And the blade is undoubtedly poisoned, because that’s what they do. Putains de démonistes.”
Ryan started shaking with the aftershock of adrenaline and a healthy dose of belated fear, but then she whirled around to find Bane, only then noticing that every single zombie—and there must have been hundreds of them—was down. The magic that had animated them was gone.
“Bane!” She grabbed Meara. “Where is he? Did he—is he?”
A rush of wind from directly above her alerted Ryan to his presence before she saw him. Before his feet even touched the ground, he was pulling her into his arms.
“You’re unharmed?” She frantically searched him for evidence of any injury. “I was so afraid for you!”
He closed his eyes, clutched her to him, and started swearing in something that sounded like Old English. “You were afraid for me? I’m an extremely powerful, three-hundred-year-old vampire! I was terrified for you. Never do that to me again!”
She started to kiss him but then stopped, frantic again. “Bram Stoker! Is he okay? The zombies—”
Rowf!
The dog, limping only a little, came galloping over to them, leaping over the piles of bones and bodies on his way. She knelt and hugged his giant, furry neck and cried a little, but then she checked him for injuries.
Bane, his hand on her shoulder, as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching her, blew out a deep breath. Meara walked up and stood on Ryan’s other side, facing the carnage on the grounds.
“Brave boy. He’ll need a few sutures. I’ll take care of it inside,” she told Meara and Bane.
When she stood, giving Bram Stoker one final hug first, she finally got a real look at the extent of the destruction.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. The remains of hundreds of corpses, two warlocks, and three men wearing MC vests covered the grass.
A tall, dark man who carried himself like a leader—like a warrior—walked over to them.
“Reynolds,” Bane said, holding out his hand. “Thanks for the backup.”
They shook hands, and Reynolds nodded to Meara and Ryan. “We lost one of ours and two of yours, I’m sorry to say. But better this than the thousands of people Savannah would have lost to these monsters.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Bane said. “And thanks again. Do you want to borrow a truck to transport your man?”
The alpha nodded, and Luke, bloody but alive, walked over to them. “I’ll take care of it. What are we going to do