Dreams of a Dark Warrior

THIRTY-THREE

Battles. Everywhere. Directly in front of Regin and Natalya. But just out of reach.

As the mountain continued to rise, the entire building wobbled. The glass of other cells succumbed to the pressure, but theirs held strong.

All she and the fey could do was watch the havoc outside their cell. Though all the creatures in the Vertas had their torques, none of the Pravus did.

Regin laid her palms against the glass. “Put me in, Coach …”

“I’m bloody ready to play,” Natalya finished.

Packs of shifters wrangled, the Vertas mammal shifters versus the Pravus amphibious ones.

Winged demons skulked through the ward, dragging humans into dark corners to share for sex. Horde vampires fed from the mortals at the same time.Volós thundered up and down the corridor, his long mane of hair tied back in a queue, his hooves matted with gristle.

Mere feet away, five starving succubae waylaid Uilleam MacRieve. The females were torqueless, which meant they were probably a hundred times stronger than the Lykae would be right now. They attacked as one, launching him directly into the glass wall of Regin’s cell.

She cried, “Break the glass, MacRieve!”

His fists were flying, but the females were dusting off his blows. “Wee bit busy, Valkyrie!” He fought as if his life depended on it, roaring and flailing.

Regin murmured to Natalya, “Most guys aren’t usually too keen on getting away.” The succubae had ways to make males crazed with lust. “If he falls under their spell, I’m gonna look away. Really. I am.”

“I bet he’s fighting it because he’s found his mate.”

Regin frowned. Then it would destroy him to be with another female, even under these circumstances.

Eventually the ravenous succubae took MacRieve—a Lykae male in his prime—down, pinning him to the ground. The shock he must be feeling …

When one of them ripped off his shirt, he spat in her face. “You bluidy whores! Rot in hell!”

Beneath her hands, Regin felt the glass cell wall bulging out. More splinters fractured across it. “Natalya, on the count of three, we charge the glass. Hard. You harder than me. Because of my recent fileting and all.”

Natalya nodded, and they crossed to the back of the cell. “One … two … three.” They ran, ramming their shoulders against the glass. Impact. The wall shattered, sending them sprawling forward. The pressure shot shards like bullets into the corridor, riddling the succubae, tearing them apart.

Lying flat on the ground, MacRieve was mostly unscathed. He leapt to his feet and attacked the five, his claws slashing through their necks, finishing them off one by one. “My thanks to you, Regin.” Slash. “And to your friend.”

“De nada, werewolf,” Regin said, scanning the area for a sword, a freaking pipe, anything.

Natalya snatched up larger shards of glass, stabbing them through her jacket sleeves for later use. She collected still more, carrying them between her knuckles, ready to throw.

Regin cocked her brow at a dead guard’s machine gun. She hooked her foot under it, hiking it up to catch it.

Natalya said, “Have you ever fired one of those?”

Lorekind scorned them. The weapons were so tackily human. “Look, I’ve seen Terminator. How difficult can it be? Now, let’s go find Tiger!”

MacRieve said, “Whoa, where are you going, Valkyrie? The exit’s the other way. I’ll help you get there safely.”

“No dice. Got someone back there.”

He pointed in the opposite direction. “And I’ve got someone up there. Gods speed, females.” He loped off.

She and Natalya raced away as fast as Regin could manage. While they searched for Thad, Regin also had her eyes peeled for Fegley, Dixon, and most especially Chase.

“Is that Tiger?” Regin pointed far down the corridor. “At the edge of that big gap?” Through the smoke, she couldn’t be sure.

Natalya swiped her hair out of her face. “It’s him. Wait … what’s he doing? Isn’t that where Lothaire’s been kept?”

“Yeah. Exactly where La Dorada was heading.” They tried to get his attention, but there were too many skirmishes. “Nat, go snag him! Quick, I’m right behind you.”

“I’ve got this!” Natalya bolted away, with Regin lagging behind, limping over uneven ground. The floor was still swelling up and collapsing as if it bubbled. Flaming rafters had begun hurtling down all around them.

Yet even over the din, Regin’s ears twitched. “We’ve got company,” she called to Natalya. Pravus shifters had picked up their scent and were trailing them.

Within moments, she and the fey were surrounded by the dregs of the Lore—a motley collection of creatures with viper eyes, forked tongues, and scales. Some had crocodile fangs and plated skin.

Regin cocked her weapon, brought it to her hip. “You don’t want to mess with us. I’m about to mince meat and make hay with this thing.”

The largest one laughed. Until Natalya’s glass shard plugged his jugular. Regin aimed and pulled the trigger. The gun kicked as bullets sprayed.

It was shredding their torsos like cheese, halving their bodies. “Let’s do this! Rock out with your cocks out!”

When they’d all been dropped, Regin’s injured chest was screaming in pain, her ears ringing. Her gun was hot, and she thought she might be a little infatuated with it.

Natalya said, “Let’s go!”

“Right behind you—”

Volós stepped in front of them, blocking their way, his body stretching nearly the width of the corridor.

“You killed that evil woman, Mister.”

Lothaire gazed up, spied some young male peering past the edge of the overhang. In no way had Lothaire destroyed La Dorada. He’d only bought himself time.

“I saw you do it—we’re going to be all right now!”

He wanted to sneer, “Do I look all right, boy?” But his cause was greater than merely himself. And now victory was possible. He simply needed assistance with this predicament.

His lips curled at the naïve immortal above him. And then I need to replenish my strength. “A hand, if you please.”

“Sure thing.” He lay flat at the edge, extending his arm down. “I’m Thaddeus Brayden. Call me Thad.”

Lothaire took his hand, his eyes locked on Thaddeus’s neck, on the spot just below the metal torque. His fangs throbbed for that skin.

As always, he had to be very careful whom he fed from—he balanced forever upon a razor’s edge—and younger was ever so much better for him.

With a surprising strength, Thaddeus hefted him up to safety. “What’s your name?”

What manner of creature was he? Usually Lothaire could tell at once, but this boy’s species eluded him. “I’m Lothaire. The Ally of Old.” Not a lie. A female had once called him that. “On to terra firma, then.”

“Terra whatta? Oh, yeah, sure thing.” Once they’d moved from the gorge to more stable ground, the boy said, “Good to meet you, Mr. Lothaire.”

“Seems I owe you a debt of gratitude, Thaddeus.” Lothaire seized him by the neck, yanking the boy’s back to his own chest.

“Wh-what the hell are you doing?” he demanded, futilely struggling.

As Lothaire lowered his head, he murmured, “Now I’ll owe you a blood debt as well.” He sank his aching fangs into the male’s hot neck, drawing deep. …