The Lair

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Mel

I sneak back to the square as the fight between Roberto and Sebastian rages on. Of course, all the sneaking in the world is pointless. Neither notices me. They are completely engaged in the battle, relentlessly focused on each other. The clang of metal on metal echoes through the square, and the closer I get, the more it blocks out everything else. The howls of the approaching Ticks. The roar of the helicopter’s engine. The report of rapid gunfire in the distance. All of it fades.

Roberto and Sebastian appear to be evenly matched. Roberto is smaller, of course, but the katana gives him a longer reach. Sebastian, I know, has battle experience that should give him an edge, but Roberto is fantastically good with the sword, wielding it with an easy confidence that I never managed.

As evenly matched as they are, I have no doubt this could last for hours. Days maybe, before one of them tires enough to make a mistake. They slash and swipe and parry with a grace and agility that no Hollywood special effects department could hope to match.

Their battle is a thing of beauty.

But I don’t have time for this. My sister needs that cure. All I need is a few minutes alone with Sebastian to find out where the cure is, so that Carter and I can leave here to go get it.

We need to get out of here soon. There are—literally—hundreds of miles of fence around this compound, but eventually the Ticks will find their way through if they haven’t already. They’ll swarm over this town and when they do—if Carter is still here—he’ll be torn apart. He’s protected me often enough. It’s time for me to return the favor.

I have to either interrupt the fight or find a way to tip the balance to end it more quickly. Neither of which I am going to be able to do unless I find some kind of weapon. I know the guard station will be well stocked, but undoubtedly there are guards there also. I’m not going to count on them handing me a crossbow so I can go murder their leader.

Instead, I sneak back around the edge of the square toward the one building I know: Roberto’s mansion.

I don’t know what I’ll find there. My trek through the downstairs of his house was somewhat impeded by the fact that I was dragged along behind a raging maniac. I don’t remember seeing anything I could use as a weapon, but even crazed vampires needed brooms, right?

Sure, Roberto doesn’t seem like the type to do his own cleaning, but the cleaning staff has to keep their stuff somewhere.

I dash up the steps and in through the front door, which stands open. My eyes adjust quickly to the darkness and I stare around the foyer. There is a front parlor off to the left with a massive entertainment center and sleek, leather furniture intermixed with elegant antiques. I guess his taste is eclectic. I am about to walk on past and look for a broom closet or something when the gleam of metal on the back wall catches my attention.

I walk into the room, feeling along the wall automatically for a light switch before remembering that the electricity is off. I am most of the way across the room before my mind processes what I am seeing.

The wall is covered with weapons, from the ceiling all the way down to the display case. Swords, daggers, crossbows. Most of them look like antiques. All of them have a cross somewhere on them, everything from the crudely painted slash of red on the wooden handle of the crossbow, to the mother-of-pearl embossed on the handle of a sword. The display case is the wood-and-glass kind you’d see in a museum. It contains a series of Victorian-style boxes. The most elaborate of them is closed to show off the carving. The others are opened to reveal the contents: daggers, pistols, vials of mysterious powder, carved pieces of wood. More crosses. Crosses on everything.

That’s what does it for me. That’s what gives it away.

They are vampire hunting kits. Once in the Before, I’d seen a TV show about them. They’d been a curiosity item popular with paranoid Victorians after the publication of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. And Roberto collects them. By the dozens. I look at the weapons on the wall again. All those crosses. That’s what this whole display is. The tools of vampire hunters.

What kind of idiot collects weapons specifically designed to kill him?

An egomaniac with a well-equipped personal army, I guess.

I reach for a sword most like my katana. As I pull it from the wall, I notice a tiny nameplate beneath it. Kimura 1704. They all have labels with names and dates. So then this isn’t just a collection of vampire-slaying tools. It’s a personal collection. These are the tools of vampire slayers who came after him and failed.

I don’t take the time to count them. I don’t need to know how many have failed before me. Besides, I don’t really need to kill Roberto. I only need to distract him long enough for Sebastian to do it.

Obviously, one of the bows would be my best bet in terms of not needing to be close to Roberto to use it, but I don’t have Lily’s archery experience. Besides, I think I’d read somewhere that bow strings needed to be oiled regularly to be kept in working condition. Even if I could hit a target, having the string snap when I notch the arrow will do me no good.

I take the katana and a wicked-looking dagger. Then, just to be sure, I knock out the glass in the display case and grab a fistful of stakes. Maybe I am being paranoid, but I don’t want my katana added to this wall.

I think for a moment, but I am not sure how I feel about Sebastian’s Arkansas Toothpick. When it comes to him, I am still torn.

How am I supposed to feel? In some ways, Sebastian seems to know me better than I know myself. He understands me like no one else ever has. And he’s used that knowledge against me. He’s turned me into a killer.

I truly hate him. But does that mean I want him dead?

No. I don’t.

Unless . . . unless everything Roberto had said was true. Unless Sebastian was responsible for the Tick virus. Unless he was the one who had destroyed the world. Unless he was the one responsible for the end of my world as I’d known it. For the death of my mother. What happened to my sister.

Then, yes. Then, I want him dead.

Once I’m armed, I sneak out the front door and slip through the darkness to the square. I stash the stakes in the pockets of my cargo pants. Then I tuck the katana under my arm as I fasten the sheath of the dagger to my belt as I walk. Confident I can reach whatever I need, I grip the handle of the katana and scrape the pad of my thumb across the blade. It’s old but sharp enough. It will do what I need it to. Kimura may not have succeeded in killing Roberto, but then, he wasn’t sneaking up on him in the middle of an all-out battle. Still, I couldn’t help wondering if Kimura had failed because he’d underestimated Roberto. And if I was making the same mistake.

Sebastian and Roberto are still at it; I knew they would be. Roberto almost has Sebastian backed against the oak tree in the middle of the square. Sebastian sees me coming, his eyes flickering only briefly in my direction. Roberto hesitates on his next strike, and it’s the window Sebastian has been looking for. With one wickedly fast movement, he lunges in and the dagger catches the katana just so. The sword flies out of his hand and goes soaring through the air.

Roberto spins away before Sebastian can skewer him, and I think he’s going for the katana. But he doesn’t. He jumps, flipping in midair and lands beside me. I’m not fast enough. Not vampire enough, I guess. My reflexes aren’t as quick as either of theirs, because before my eyes can even process what has happened, Roberto has yanked out my dagger and has pressed it to the underside of my jaw.

His voice is hot and cloying in my ear. “Better drop the sword, love.”

I toss it aside, toward Sebastian. He still has his dagger, obviously, but I figure another sword won’t hurt his chances.

“I bet you’re wondering”—Roberto reaches up to tuck a strand of my hair back to bare my neck—“how I’m so much faster and smarter than you. Aren’t you?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. Which is just as well, since I’m not sure I could talk past the bile in my mouth. “You’ve been living off Ticks and wild animals because Sebastian lives like some sort of cave person. Me, I’ve been dining on the smartest, most content humans in the country. My dear, you really should have higher standards when it comes to picking your boyfriends.”

“It’s not a question of standards,” I growl. “If one of you is repulsive.”

The tip of the dagger bites into the tender skin of my neck and I twitch away from it. I think I’ve pissed him off, but then he chuckles. “Too late now, anyway. If you’d come to me earlier, I could have shown you a good time. Of course I’d still kill you right about now anyway, so I don’t suppose it matters much.”

Sebastian just stands there, eyeing Roberto and me. He’s moved the dagger from palm to palm a couple of times. He’s trying to think it through, figure out how to get me out of this.

Roberto sees it, too, and presses the blade a little deeper. “Do you want her back?” he asks. “Drop the dagger or I’ll kill her. Let me end this now and I’ll let her walk.”

Sebastian eyes both of us, then he gives a little shrug and says, “I never intended for her to walk out of here, anyway. Go ahead and get her out of the way and you and I can keep at it. This time you won’t have the advantage of the longer blade. Good luck with that.”

I suck in a breath at Sebastian’s words. I try to meet his gaze, but he’s not even glancing at me. It’s like I’m not even here.

Like I don’t exist. I feel a wash of cold fury. I’ve spent too much of my life with people not seeing me as I really am. That’s not how I’m going to die.

Roberto pulls the dagger away from my neck long enough to glance down at the handle. “Hmm . . . You picked Bagnoli’s,” he says in an offhand voice. “Interesting choice. I would have gone with one of the Spanish blades myself.”

Before he can press the blade back to my throat, I drop down, spinning out of his grasp. I pull two wooden stakes out of my pockets as I kick out his legs. He goes down. I pounce before he even hits the ground. The stake goes all the way through his chest and sinks into the ground beneath him.

I leap back before he can move. Even staked through the heart, I know he’s still dangerous. I move quickly, using the other stakes to pin his hands to the ground as well. Only then do I stand. I grab the katana and stalk over to his body.

“You may be smarter and faster than I am. But I talk less.”

I raise the sword. I’m already swinging it down in a wide arc toward his neck when Sebastian grabs my arm.

There’s fury and battle rage in his eyes. Emotion like I’ve never seen from him before. Guess he got a dose of that vampire berserker rage, too.

He just shakes his head. “He’s mine.”

I snarl at Sebastian, driving my elbow back into his chest. The air goes out of his lungs in a whoosh, but he doesn’t release my arm. In fact, his grip tightens to the point that he’s crushing the bones of my wrist.

“I’ve hunted him for two thousand years. You don’t really think I’m going to let you kill him, do you?”

His fingertips dig the tendons in my wrist against the bone and the katana falls out of my hand. Again, I do the drop-and-kick maneuver, but Sebastian trained me and he’s ready for the move. He follows me to the ground and wrestles me beneath him. We’ve fought enough that I can tell he’s not really trying to bring me down. His heart isn’t in it—either that, or the fight with Roberto has worn him down. Even I can feel the strain of being so deep in Roberto’s territory. He braces one arm on the ground beside my head. His other forearm is pressed against my chest.

I look up into his eyes, trying to see past his bloodlust, but all I see is his need for revenge. There is nothing of the man I thought I knew. Nothing of the man I wanted him to be.

Maybe I just hoped that a person could still exist inside a bloodthirsty vampire.

I can’t imagine why I’d want to believe that.

“Tell me something, Sebastian. Would you really have let him kill me so you could have your revenge?”

Something flickers in his eyes. “You’re fully vampire now, Kit. Haven’t you figured that out? You’re not my responsibility anymore.”

“But you would have let him kill me?”

“I would do anything to stop him. Yes.”

“And Genexome? Is it really your company? Are you really responsible for the Tick virus?”

This time there’s not even a flicker of emotion in his gaze. “Yes. I’m responsible.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?” he gasps.

It isn’t a hard question. Why has he done anything? Because he thought it would help him kill Roberto.

It’s all I need to hear.

I buck against him, rolling him under me. It’s a move that would never work if he was at his full strength. If he wasn’t already exhausted. It’s a low blow. But no lower than what he’s dealt me.

Once he’s under me, I pull my arm up over my head and plunge the stake into his heart.

I do it without thinking about it. Without looking at him. Because it’s the only way I can manage to do what needs to be done.

I hear him gasp in surprise, but I ignore it.

I hop up, adrenaline, vampire berserker rage, whatever it is, I’m shaking so badly I can barely hold the sword in my hand as I stalk over to where Roberto still lays, pinned to the ground. He stares up at me, shock writ clearly on his face. I swing the sword up, but I’m shaking too badly.

Tears are pouring down my cheeks and when I feel a hand on mine, I cry out in alarm and whirl around sword at the ready. But it’s Carter.

I drop the sword and scramble away. Because I almost just killed my friend. And because I just killed a man I thought was my friend.

“Let me,” Carter says. He’s holding out his hands, palm out in a gesture of surrender. I nod mutely and back away.

I don’t look as he slices Roberto’s head off. I’ve had enough of death for now.

Instead I move over to Sebastian, who is still alive. Barely. And gasping for breath. Suddenly, my fury, my rage, is gone. Not vanished, but fading. I look down at Sebastian, at the stake that I’ve driven through his heart, and something inside of me clenches.

I lean over him. “Is there really a cure?”

He’s looking back at me, his expression strangely soft in a way it never has been. Death has softened him. He nods. “At Genexome. The underground storage. If Sabrina hasn’t taken it yet.”

“Sabrina?” I gasp. So, that’s what he traded my freedom for. In exchange for letting me go, he told Sabrina that there was a cure and where it was hidden. It was a risky move on his part. Why bring me to Sabrina in the first place? Why trade his most valuable asset for my freedom? Had he really wanted me to have a choice? Or had he been setting us both up?

Whatever his intentions might have been, he came on this suicide mission knowing that at least one person on the outside knew the location of the cure.

He reaches one trembling hand up to my face and brushes back a lock of my newly short hair. He holds onto the lock and rubs it between his thumb and forefinger, looking at it like he’s confused. “I liked it better long,” he says. A trickle of blood seeps past his lips, making them appear bright red in the dusk. Then he meets my gaze and smiles. “I always knew you had the killer instinct, Kitten.”

I choke on a sudden burst of grief that I don’t even understand. Why? Why would I be sorry that I’ve stabbed him? Why regret killing the man who has risked everyone and everything I care about to satisfy his own lust for revenge? The man who has lied to me, tricked me, and made me a killer? The man who stole the music from me? Why would I mourn him?

But he’s also the man who has given me more choices than anyone else. The man who has always respected my wishes. And who in the end, tried to do the right thing to save humanity.

My hand hovers above the stake. If I pull it out, will he survive? Will his heart start beating again, pumping out the healing powers of vampire blood?

Then Sebastian’s eyes flicker closed, and a wail of grief is torn from my chest. It’s not even out of my mouth when Carter grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me away.

“We gotta go!”

I look around, almost surprised to find myself in the town square. It’s chaos. People are running everywhere. Ticks howl and yip, but the sound is too close. They’ve breached the fence. Carter is dragging me toward a car. A way out. We have to take it now because if we don’t, someone else will. The Ticks are here. En masse. I could see three, four. Maybe as many as six. But there are far more than that. When I listen for them, I count more than twenty distinct sounds. Far more than I could handle.

I know Carter’s right. Mindlessly, I fall into step beside him. Even though my body is aching and bruised. Even though I feel as though I’ve been hit by a truck. Even though I feel as though I’m leaving a chunk of myself behind.