Slaying Monsters for the Feeble - Annette Marie Page 0,87
considered my words. He reached up, but his hand passed over the grimoire and instead settled on top of my head. His fingers curled into my hair, his gaze breaking from mine to sweep across the room.
He pulled me into his chest, squashing the ancient grimoire between us. As I squeaked in dismay, his husky voice whispered above my head, almost too quiet to hear.
“Drādah, I smell fresh blood.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cold fear shot through my gut—then Zylas threw me backward.
I sailed through the air and crashed into Amalia, knocking her to the floor. Zylas was already whirling as the windows behind him exploded into shimmering shards. Three men in dark clothes leaped into the cabin, their fingers extending into long claws and mouths gaping hungrily.
Fangs exposed. Black-and-white eyes marked with bright red rings.
The vampires charged Zylas and he leaped to meet them. Crimson magic spiraled up his arms and glowing talons extended from his fingers. He ducked a vampire’s grabbing hands, rammed another with his shoulder, and slashed his claws across the third’s stomach.
Blood spilled down the vamp’s front but he scarcely stumbled. Blurring with speed, the vampires encircled Zylas. He spun through them, grace and power. They were fast and strong, but he was experienced.
Another slashing exchange. Two vampires flew back, thrown by powerful blows, and Zylas rammed his talons into the chest of the third, stopping the creature’s heart. He ripped his talons out and whirled, but not toward the remaining vampires.
Toward me.
A blur interrupted my line of sight. The new vampire, attacking from my left, snatched at the grimoire and I frantically twisted away. His claws caught on my infernus chain. Sharp pain cut into my neck, then the chain snapped.
Zylas lunged for my attacker and the vampire darted out of reach. A flash of motion behind him.
Between one instant and the next, a man appeared. Arms clamped around Zylas. A hand seized his jaw and twisted his head sideways.
The vampire bit into Zylas’s neck.
As a horrified scream rang through my head, someone grabbed me and hauled me backward—Amalia, her breath coming in fearful pants. She dragged me away from the vampire and Zylas.
Daimon, hesychaze! I silently shouted.
Zylas didn’t ignite into a crimson glow. The magic on his hands dissolved, his body limp in his assailant’s hold, his eyes darkening by the second. I looked down. My new artifact was tangled on the broken chain of my infernus, still hanging off my neck, but the silver pendant was missing.
The vampire pulled his fangs from Zylas’s neck and lifted his head.
Vasilii, the vampires’ leader. As his slow gaze moved across me, I met his eyes. They weren’t white on black like the other vampires. They were solid, unbroken black.
Red light flared—but not Zylas’s magic. The power leaped from the infernus around Uncle Jack’s neck. His demon materialized beside him, towering at eight feet tall with scaled patches over its arms and legs. A long tail hung, unmoving, behind it, its stare eerily blank in an apelike face crowned by four long horns.
As the demon turned with robotic steps to face the vampires, Uncle Jack swung his rifle toward Vasilii.
“No!” I cried, lunging forward. I shoved the gun sideways.
Uncle Jack shouldered me out of the way and raised the gun again, pointing it at the vampire’s heart—except the vampire was holding Zylas in front of him, heart over heart. To kill the vampire, Uncle Jack would have to shoot the rifle’s unstoppable bullet right through Zylas.
Vasilii glanced dismissively at Uncle Jack before returning his attention to me. His tongue slipped between his thin lips and licked at the blood smearing his mouth.
“Exquisite,” he rasped. “Rich with power and … superbly fresh. Her infernus?”
Another vampire moved, and Uncle Jack jerked his rifle as though unsure who to aim at. The vampire stooped, picked something off the floor, and handed it to Vasilii. Rejoining the vampire lord’s other two lackeys, who waited off to one side, he resumed staring at Zylas’s bleeding neck with ravenous hunger.
Vasilii examined the small object—my infernus—then tucked it in his pocket. Smiling faintly, he slid a hand across Zylas’s shoulder. A twist of his fingers, a quiet tear, and Zylas’s small armor plate fell, its straps severed. It hit the floor with a clang, leaving the demon’s chest exposed.
Vasilii turned his inky eyes on Uncle Jack, silently daring the man to shoot.
Panic screamed through my head. Holding Uncle Jack’s rifle with one hand, I clutched the grimoire to my chest. “Let my demon go.”