“No!” I yelled. “Please! I love you.”
It was enough to make him pause. His head turned just enough for me to see his eyes were completely black. He smiled and vanished into the chaos.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
JULIAN
There was death everywhere, and Thea loved me. The taste of her blood lingered on my tongue as I threw myself into the violence. I locked the thought of her inside me. I couldn’t afford to be distracted, but knowing she was waiting for me at the other end of this drove me. A vampire in black started toward me, stake raised. I waited until he was close enough to lift his hand to strike. Dropping low, I spun and swept his feet out from behind. His body flew backward, but I was already up. I hooked an arm around his neck and wrenched his head from his neck. A few feet away, another vampire rushed toward a group of guests clustered together. I lifted the head in my hands and launched it at him, hard. It hit the vampire square in the shoulder blades. The impact caught him off-guard, buying time for the group to run back into the theatre.
I grabbed the stake from my attacker’s hand. “Thanks.”
Now I had a weapon, at least. We had centuries more experience in battle than our attackers, but we were outnumbered. I spotted my mother and father working together to take down a small, coordinated group of terrorists. At least my own parents knew how to fight. There were plenty of vampires here who were unprepared. Bodies lay everywhere, not all of them vampires.
My eyes fell on a familiar writhing on the ground with a stake in her chest.
“P-p-p…” she said. Her hand reached out limply as blood sputtered from her lips. I knelt to inspect her wound. The stake had driven clear through her breastbone, splintering the bones in its path. A few shards stuck out from where her flesh had torn to reveal the organ. There was too much damage. Not even magic could save her.
Drawing her mangled body into my arms, I took her hand and held it. Her magic pulsed against mine, growing fainter with each slowing beat of her heart. Her head lolled back, and she forced out a few final words. “Take. It.”
Electricity sparked like lightning against my palm as she passed her magic into my body. With one final crack of energy, her body went limp.
Her magic roared through me as I laid her gently on the blood-soaked tile. I was about to stand when a vampire flew over my head and smashed into the wall. She went limp, crumpling into a heap of black clothes and bloody hands. I whirled around to thank my unexpected ally, but she was already dashing toward the stairs. She was dressed in black. It wasn’t one of us that had saved me. It was one of them.
What the fuck? I vaulted over a body, my eyes tracking my savior.
Her dark hair swung around her face, obscuring it from view as she escaped. Without thinking, I followed, leaping over the railing and barely landed neatly on the lower staircase. Her head turned slightly toward the sound of my landing. It was only a glimpse, but it was enough to stop me in my tracks.
It wasn’t possible.
Snapping out of my haze, I started after her. I made it a step before a body fell from the first floor, almost taking me out. It hit the steps in front of me with a sickening thud. My eyes lifted to find Bellamy standing at the railing. “Sorry, Jules!”
I nodded and continued after the terrorist who saved my life. But she was gone. Bodies cluttered the floor of the lobby. I wondered how many had died and how many had escaped. As I walked among the fallen, I spotted faces I knew as well as strangers among the dead. Footsteps fell behind me, and I whipped around to face another attack.
But it was my father and Benedict. They closed the distance between us in two long strides. My father caught me in a hug.
“Thank the gods.” He drew away, his face grim and lined with grief. “We can’t find Sebastian.”
“He got Thea out of here,” I told them.
“He left?” Dominic bellowed.
“I’m the better fighter, so I stayed. He saw to his family.”
“That mortal of yours is–”
“Is my mate,” I cut him off with a snarl.
Benedict stepped between us. “We know where he is now,” he said to our father. He shot me a warning look. “Let’s make sure they’re all gone.”
“Fine,” I muttered.
“Whatever.”
“Mom?” I asked Benedict as we fell into step together.
“She’s offering mercy to those that need it.”
I swallowed, remembering the first time I saw my mother following a battle. Unlike the males, who joked and boasted after the fight, she walked back onto the field and offered death to any who sought it. That was how I learned she was known as angelus mortis.
The angel of death.
We stuck close to each other as we swept the building looking for survivors, but there were none. A couple dozen had fallen. Given the brutality of the attack, I was surprised it wasn’t more. Its swift execution and the equally fast retreat told me this was a rallying cry, not a full-blown attack. More would follow.
“Why do this?” Benedict asked as he studied the body of one of the attackers. “They could have done it while we were watching the opera–locked us inside and burned us alive.”
Benedict, always the politician, had never had the heart of a warrior. He’d seen plenty of battlefields, but the art of war eluded him.
“They didn’t want to kill us,” Dominic said quietly.
“What is this?” My brother pointed to the death around us.
“A message,” I answered.
“From whom?”
“I don’t know.” I thought of the woman who’d saved me and fled. She was dressed like the others. She was one of them, whoever they were. I remembered the look of their clothing: black, with a single slash of red across the breast. “I think there was a male at mother’s orgy wearing a mask almost exactly like the uniform these attackers wore. Mother had security escort them out. Who was that male?”
“Now isn’t the time or place,” my father said darkly, adding quietly, “Only the blood can be trusted.”
