Chapter 17

It had been far too long since Julian Alcott got to charge into battle with his brothers. As much as he had complained about being sidelined for the last few months, it only seemed right that he was finally getting to rejoin the fight against Armina Voss, nearly two hundred years after the Midnight War that had begun all of this.

The tracker in Scarlett's pocket had led them to an upscale suburb outside Charlotte, North Carolina. The witch did not live in a hut on chicken legs, nor a moldering building draped in cobwebs. Instead, they had gathered at the edge of a sprawling property that could have been any one of a dozen uninspired mansions built in the late nineties.

Warm light glowed from dozens of windows in the red brick facade, belying the dark magic of the mansion's inhabitants.The smell of Night Weaver magic permeated the air with its dead, dried-blood smell.

And in that tangle of death, he smelled Scarlett, rich and alive. If he concentrated, he could hear a slow, even heartbeat that had to be hers.

Using his arcane sight, Misha Volkov had detected the perimeter created by Armina's protective spells. He'd assured them that he could get through, but his face was paler than usual, a sheen of sweat gleaming on his forehead. Kneeling in the grass, he clutched his enchanted blade tightly as his lips worked silently.

At Julian's side, Paris was practically twitching with nervous energy as he watched his soulmate work. "Come on, mon chou," he murmured. "You can do this."

The powerful scent of Misha's magic crackled in the air, and Julian curled his hand around the enchanted shortsword Misha had made for him. The air heated, and there was a distinct sensation of something snapping against his skin. Misha gasped in surprise as red light surged from his hands.Lights flicked on inside the house.

With a growl, Misha slammed a sharp red stone down into the ground, then fell back to shield his face. Searing white exploded around him, and he rolled onto his back. "Go," he croaked. Misha tossed Julian the small silver bracelet. "It's not all down, but it won't be as bad." Before Paris could ask, he lifted a thumbs-up and said, "I'm fine, zaichik, go."

As soon as he secured the bracelet, Julian leaped into action and said, "Follow me. Remember to disable them without killing." The last thing they needed was another nasty curse from one of her apprentices.

In a split second, there were half a dozen quick steps, then silence as the Nightwatch burst into action. Dark forms zipped through the shadows and bounded across the lawn. They each had their targets, and Julian's was the window next to the front door. Without slowing, he smashed through the window and landed in a crunching pile of glass. Black threads of magic entangled him like the spell in the parking garage.But with a burst of heat from his wrist, the threads fell away.

He stood in a dark dining room. Decorative plates rattled on the wooden table as someone else slammed against the side of the house. The smell of Armina's magic was much stronger here, but so was Scarlett's scent.He followed her enticing scent down the hall and into a dimly lit living room that reeked of Carrigan Shea.

Drawing his blade, Julian prepared to kill the bastard once and for all. But instead of the older, brawny vampire, there was a petite blonde woman. Her fangs gleamed in the light, but her eyes were deep black voids. Dark marks like tattoos swirled over her collarbones and throat like a collar.

Her dark eyes widened, and then she jolted as if someone had yanked her back. He swiped at her with the blade, and she dodged easily, uncannily fast. And instead of going for him, her nose wrinkled, and she dashed down the hallway he'd just come from. Seconds later, Safira shouted in surprise.

He shook off the confusion and found Scarlett's scent. It led him through the living room, past a kitchen where a forgotten kettle steamed on a burner, and to the stairs. He leaped up the stairs and cut a sharp corner to?—

There was an oof as he barreled into Scarlett Ward and tumbled across the landing with her. She swore, wriggling under him and pushing at his chest. And damn him to hell, but he couldn't help thinking about how nice it would be to have her beneath him like old times.

Not the time, he scolded himself.He lifted himself up and saw those brilliant green eyes staring up at him. And then she smiled, apparently unfazed. "Oh, hi," she said. "I guess you didn't want to wait to break in."

Another boom shook the house, and light flashed downstairs. A shout of fury rang out, startling him from his distraction. He scrambled to his feet and offered her a hand, feeling a bit disappointed about not getting to play the gallant knight. But here was his love, on her feet with a shackle around one wrist and a chain dangling from it. Her other hand was bloodied and bruised, but she looked otherwise unhurt.

"Are you all right?" he asked, reaching for her wounded hand.A plate still hung from the chain, making it clear she'd unscrewed it. Sexy and resourceful. He had to appreciate that, even if it interfered with his knight in shining armor fantasy.

She pulled back and brandished her shackled wrist."Yes. I need this off. Anything you can do? When I try to break it, her magic takes over and I can't make myself do it."

He brought her hand to rest against his chest, then pried his fingers under the cuff. Runes illuminated on the metal, leaving it hot to the touch. As he pulled, she started to back away, gathering the loose chain to her chest protectively.

"No, no, she doesn't want it broken," she protested. Filaments of black threaded across her pretty green eyes, and he smelled the musty-death scent of Night Weaver magic. The thought of Armina controlling her mind made him even angrier.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked.

"No, I just?—"

"Then ignore it," he said, gritting his teeth as he wrenched the cuff apart with a primal growl. Searing heat licked at his fingers, and Scarlett recoiled with a yelp as she clutched her wrist. Scorch marks covered her forearm, but the chain fell to the ground between them with a metallic clatter. "Are you all right? That looks?—"

"I'm fine," she blurted. "We need to get downstairs to Kova. He's in the basement."

Low chanting caught his ears, and he shivered as cold rolled through the house. The low lights went dark as the house was clouded in unnatural darkness. It was not the deep dark of distant woods, untouched by city lights, nor even the sealed off chambers of their many vampire-built homes. This was all-consuming, as if the darkness was a thick substance that filled the room.

A woman's quiet voice filled his hearing. It was barely a whisper, the words unintelligible, but he felt it like she was speaking directly in his ear, cold breath puffing against his skin. The bracelet on his wrist vibrated, as if it was reacting to the spell. A faint glow issued from the metal, and he raised it to find a small sphere of illumination around himself, pushing back the witch's magic.

Feeling for Scarlett's arm, Julian pulled the dhampir woman close, trying not to get distracted when she put her hands against his chest and stared up at him. The faint light from the bracelet cast a glow against her green eyes."How do we get Kova out?" he asked.

"Armina or one of her apprentices has to open the door," Scarlett said. "Stay with me so I can see." She gently pushed him ahead, holding his elbow tightly as he headed down the hall. "Third door past this one."

Someone swore loudly in French, followed by a violent crash. The house trembled, and a wave of sweltering heat washed over him. Instinct told him to check on his brothers, but he had to trust them to do what he'd asked.Olivia had told him to lead, and they would follow. He prayed they would.

Scarlett pushed him down the hall, undeterred by the rattling frame of the house. He was startled when the faint light from his bracelet caught on a framed photo of a red-haired woman with Armina Voss. She didn't just look like Scarlett; she was Scarlett, her hair shorter than this time, eyes full of sadness even as she smiled.

His stomach twisted in a knot as he remembered the way she'd come to him, hands shaking with that gun in her hand. He hadn't put up a fight. He'd knelt in front of her, let her put that gun to his head, and told her to pull the trigger if that would finally let her be free.

But it had ended the same as always. Her hand slipped, and the gun jammed as it fired. One shot, right to the heart. And as always, she lay in his arms as recognition lit up those eyes for a scant second before they went dim in death.

It would be different this time, or he would die trying.

Scarlett caught his elbow to stop him. In the faint glow of his bracelet, he saw Scarlett press her ear to the wooden door. Then she reared back and kicked it open in a cacophony of wrenching wood and screaming hinges. A woman inside shrieked, and Scarlett darted in. Julian followed, finding a petite, dark-haired witch. Her eyes glinted golden even in the deep shadow.

As she started to weave her hands together, Scarlett twisted her arm behind her and covered her mouth. "No more of that," she said. "Drop the spell."

There was a muffled curse, then a yelp as Scarlett wrenched the woman's arm behind her.

"I won't ask as nicely the next time," she said calmly."It'll be awfully hard to do your spells with broken fingers."

Suddenly, the darkness dissipated, leaving his ears ringing like the pressure had abruptly changed. The witch stared at Julian with fury in her eyes.

"Let's go," Julian said.

He followed Scarlett's directions to head down the hall to the stairs again. She followed him, leading the dark-haired witch by the arm. They hurried down the stairs as someone bellowed in pain in the far corner of the house.

Trust your people, he told himself.

Just before the kitchen,Scarlett shoved open a door that led to descending steps. "Take her down there. I'll go and get whatever I can from the workshop," she said.

For the first time, he put his foot down with her. "No," he said, catching her arm lightly. Her brow furrowed in irritation. "I don't want you out of my sight."

"I can?—"

"I know you can protect yourself," he said. "I know how strong you are and that you can do this alone. But you don't have to anymore."

Her eyes glinted, but she nodded and pushed the human witch toward him. She started to scream, but Julian squeezed her throat enough to make a point, then secured his hand over her mouth. She tried to kick her feet against him,so he picked her up entirely and hauled her down the stairs.

The smell of vampire blood was thick in the air, woven with dark magic. The dark concrete floor was splattered with dried blood, though the air smelled of bleach. A harsh fluorescent light glowed in the big chamber, though the barred cells along one side seemed to ooze with shadow.

And there at the bars stood Kova, his face ghostly pale. His jaw dropped as they approached. "Julian?" he croaked.

"Someone wanted to make sure you were safe," he said.

He knew that Scarlett wasn't in love with him, but that didn't ease the pang of jealousy as she darted for the cell. The other vampire's expression softened as shereached through the bars to squeeze Kova's shoulder. "I didn't want to leave you here," she said.

His eyes shone as he looked between them, then nodded. "Okay, but I can't open it?—"

Julian pushed the witch against the bars, guiding her hand to the rune-marked metal. "Open it."

"Fuck you," she said in a pinched voice.

"If you don't do it, I'm going to carve out your eyeballs and then try again," he threatened. "I'm not going to kill you and risk one of your little curses, but I can certainly make you wish you were dead."

He caught Scarlett staring at him, her nose wrinkled in disgust. But he shoved down his feelings and shook the witch enough to get her attention. "Your choice. Three. Two…"

"Okay!" she sobbed. "Take the fucking vampire. I don't care." She grabbed the bars and muttered an incantation. Dancing runes slithered up and down the bars, and the lock lifted on its own. Kova shoved the door open, and before they could question it, he shoved the witch inside. She threw her head back and shrieked. "Shea! To me! In the basement!"

Kova reached through the bars, then recoiled, clutching his temples. "Shut her up."

Scarlett reached through and grabbed the woman's throat, then pulled her closer to bang her head against the bars. The witch fell back in a daze, though her heart still beat quick and steady.

"I really don't like her," she said primly.

Kova let out a harsh laugh and said, "I appreciate you doing it on my behalf."

"Where's Rhys?" Julian asked, holding out one hand. "Vampire male, this tall, British accent and a baby face."

Kova shook his head. "Haven't seen him."

"What about Jordan?" Scarlett asked. "He was?—"

The door of the basement flew open, and Julian looked up just in time to see the glinting marks on Shea's arms as he dove at Julian. He tackled Julian to the ground, then drove something sharp into his chest. Fury and pain exploded from him in a shout as he wrestled the other man onto his back and punched him in the chest. As Shea grunted in pain, Julian shouted, "Kova, get her up to the workshop. I'll occupy him."

Kova nodded and grabbed Scarlett's hand even as she protested, "Wait!"

A fist cocked into Julian's face, snapping his head back as blood sprayed from his nose. He drew his enchanted blade and sliced at Shea, who shrugged off the bloody wound without missing a beat.

The other man feinted, then shoulder-checked Julian into the steel bars. A vicious fist slammed into his ribs, and then another sharp slashing sensation across his belly. Blood poured from the deep wound, hitting him with a rush of cold.

"Break the bindings on me and I'll let you live," Shea said. "Cut them and I'll be free."

"Are you fucking stupid?" Julian growled. He drove his knee up into Shea's groin, sending him reeling.

But the other man was still squared up, grinning at him."I'll help you kill…" His eyes went red, the markings glowing angry red. "Kill. That. Bitch." His back arched, and he spat a thick gob of blood, but he still wore a manic grin.

"You'll help me kill Armina Voss?"

Shea's teeth were bloody, and he nodded silently, his whole body lurching with the effort.

"And when we're done, you go your own way and never set foot in my city again?" Julian asked, tightening his hand around his blade.

"Gladly," Shea said. Beneath Armina's magic, he smelled old and powerful. It had taken their entire court working together to get to him, and Paris had still come dangerously close to losing his head twice to kill the bastard. He would be a powerful ally, especially if he sought revenge against Armina Voss.

Julian nodded and offered his hand. A faint smile pulled at Shea's bloody lips. He reached out to take Julian's hand, giving it a firm squeeze. He was still smiling when Julian's blade sliced into his throat so deep it scraped bone.

Blood sprayed across Julian's face, and he savored the taste, even though it was his own kind and brought him no heat, no satisfaction. With a deft twist, he shoved the blade up through Shea's lower jaw and into his skull.

His eyes went unfocused as he gurgled, still beating wildly at Julian. Julian yanked the blade free and kicked him across the room, then pounced, grabbing the other man's dark hair. "After all that you did to my people, to my city, I would rot in the lowest levels of hell for a millennium before I made a deal with you," he said. "However, I'll spare you the indignity of serving the witch any longer, even if you had no such mercy for Kristina."

There was a protest that might have been a mumbled no, but Julian yanked the blade through Shea's neck. With his blood empowering the enchantment, it cut sharp and quick like a hot knife through butter. He slashed again, then finished it off with a final blow from the back, severing the self-proclaimed king's head. He kicked it away and spat on his face.

"And that's for putting your hands on my girl," he growled, running for the stairs to find Scarlett.