“Love is blind.” He focused his gaze on the locked doors. “Wives tend to be killed in retaliation against their husbands.” He shrugged. “Another reason why most of us never bothered to marry.”
“Oh.” Her gaze joined his on the locked door. “Good thing I’m not a Prima then.” She tried to ease the tension with a laugh, but it sounded weak.
“No, you’re not, but like you said, times have changed. The others may consider you one. It’s obvious Daedalus cares for you like a wife.” He jumped to his feet and grabbed a stake all in one smooth motion.
She startled in her chair, almost falling to the floor. “What is it?”
“Something’s wrong.”
Chapter Ten
The first four houses went smoothly. They broke in, located the leader, and then killed the idiot. Most of the nests cooperated with the takeovers, and those who didn’t were executed. Things didn’t go as planned at the last house though.
It was empty.
Half-opened drawers with clothes hanging out greeted his entry into the building. He sensed no one here. Pressing his earpiece, he spoke to Robert. “Are you sure we’re at the right location?”
“Yeah. We were just here yesterday.” He could hear Robert clicking at his computer. “Do you think they spotted Esther and Sam when they were taking pictures?”
“Maybe…” He did a slow three-sixty in the foyer while Sam sniffed around. “Or word of my return is spreading faster than we’re moving.” He reached out to Pallas. “Is she safe?”
Nothing.
A heavy dread settled in his gut, and he closed his eyes to concentrate his power. “Pallas?” His telepathic shout would be heard around the world by his brothers, except he couldn’t sense the most important of them all. The one guarding Sugar.
“Shit.” He raced from the house using his supernatural speed, leaving the shifters to devil knew what in that empty building. Fear dug its sharp talons in Daedalus’s heart as he ran to his home on the other side of town.
Pallas tossed Sugar over his shoulder with one hand, gripping a wooden stake with the other. “Stephen, get your hairy arse down here and shift.” He strode toward the library staircase and set her on the bottom step with her cane. “Can you climb to the second floor?”
She nodded. “What is it?”
He gave her a hard look then tapped his head. “I tried to contact Daedalus, but he’s not answering.”
Her legs gave out, and she sank onto the steps. “Is he…?” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Is he dead?” The edges of her vision went dark, and nausea rolled in her stomach. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. She was supposed to die first.
“I don’t know. Sometimes, if enough vampires concentrate, they can block telepathy.” He shook her shoulder. “Get it together, woman, and move.”
A knock echoed through the library. They both jerked at the loud noise and turned toward the doors.
Stephen raced down the steps behind her. “Who’s here?”
“Trouble.” Pallas yanked her onto her feet. “Get upstairs and hide. Don’t make any noise. No matter what you hear, you stay hidden.” He pointed to Stephen. “Shift, I said.”
“I don’t know how to fight.” The young werewolf pulled his shirt over his head. She could count his ribs.
Pallas handed him the stake and retrieved the other ones from the table. “You’re about to learn.” His glare traveled to her. “Why are you still here?”
Her mouth moved, but nothing came out. She used the banister to ascend the steps. It had never crossed her mind that Daedalus would fail. Love truly was blind. A tear slid down her cheek.
An explosion shook the room, and she fell to her knees. Dust and smoke filled the air, making it difficult to breathe. She watched her cane roll down the stairs out of reach. On her stomach, she peered through the stair railings.
Pallas lay motionless on his back with iron and wooden shrapnel protruding from his body. He looked like a vampire pincushion.
She couldn’t see Stephen from this vantage point, but movement by the blown doorway caught her gaze.
A group of strangers entered, led by a man. He grinned as his gaze fell upon her, fangs sharp and long. “Sugar, I presume?”
Chapter Eleven
The front gates to Daedalus’s estate hung open. He didn’t pause in his race home. His worst fears were becoming reality.
Again.
Sugar…
He roared as he stormed through the broken front doors. Everyone would know of his arrival and either face him or flee.
Vampires stood in his home. Strangers. Those who followed a traitor. He didn’t have Clementine to point out those who might be loyal to him, so he took Pallas’s advice and killed them all. Like his brother had said, if they were loyal, they shouldn't be here.
Not bothering with wooden stakes, he tore heads from shoulders of the first idiots to attack. He didn’t care about finesse. All he wanted was to rescue Sugar.
The sweet scent of her blood drifted in the air, and a black hole of despair ruptured in his chest. He couldn’t move. It hurt too much.
Someone grabbed his arm, and he tossed them out the window. Following her scent, he arrived at the library alone. All those in his way were dead. He stepped over the threshold and focused on the back of a male hovering over someone on the stairs. The slow beat of Sugar’s heart stuttering to a halt reached Daedalus’s ears. Blonde curls lay across the steps, under the vampire feeding.
The muscles in his chest contracted into burning knots, and the chandelier hanging from the center of the room rattled from his hoarse roar. He sped across the room, wrenching Sugar’s assailant off her, and heard him hit the opposite wall of the library.
Pale skin splattered with scarlet blood filled his vision. He gathered Sugar in his arms and stumbled down the stairs only to melt to his knees. She weighed nothing, but he couldn't move.
Bending over her motionless body, he rocked. “No, no, no.” He’d failed her again. She was supposed to live to a ripe old age. They were going to watch Eric and Spice’s pups grow up. Spoil them rotten. Maybe travel, if Sugar recovered enough strength.
“I couldn’t save her.” Pallas spoke, his voice cracking.
Daedalus jerked his head from resting on her chest. In his delirium to reach Sugar, he hadn’t noticed his brother pinned to the floor by thick metal and wood splinters. Stephen lay under the table, unconscious not far from him, but it appeared Pallas had taken the brunt of the explosion’s damage.
Pallas opened his eyes. “They used weapons I’m not familiar with.” It hadn’t occurred to Daedalus that Pallas wouldn’t know much about bombs or guns.
His hands shook as he set Sugar on the floor and brushed the hair from her face. She hadn’t wanted to become a vampire, and he hadn’t possessed the ability to do it. Nosferatu couldn’t change females into vampires. They always died in the process.
When he’d offered Clementine a home in the brownstone, it was for more than her safety. He wanted a regular vampire he trusted at hand in case Sugar changed her mind. But like a fool, he’d left Clementine on the other side of the city with the shifters. She was too young to race here in time to save Sugar.
Weak moans came from the attacker. His limbs twitched as he regained consciousness.
Hope crept from under the shattered pieces of Daedalus’s heart. He had a regular vampire at hand after all. Striding toward him, he dragged the traitor’s semi-awake body across the floor to Sugar.