Darkness Descending (37 page)

Though her instinct warned her to flee, there was no place in the narrow chamber for her to hide. It was a fight to the death. She had to take him down and get that razor out of his hand. Otherwise he’d probably carve her up into dozens of tiny pieces.

Jesse’s survival instinct shifted into overdrive. Rage surged through her. “Not if I get you first,” she shot back.

Dashing across the void separating them, Jesse charged forward, grabbing Razor’s slashing arm. When she felt the big brute try to shake her off, she used the advantage of her standing position to throw her weight behind, smashing his hand against the wall. She knew he would fight her every effort to stop him, but anger and determination gave her the strength to keep fighting to the bitter end.

Razor wildly tried to shove her away. He was like a wounded animal now, mindless and vicious, and reacting without thinking through his moves.

Shoving him backward, Jesse drove a knee into his groin as hard as she could. She kneed his vulnerable balls again before slamming the hand holding the razor against the cold marble.

Unleashing a howl, Razor released his weapon. “I’ll kill you, bitch,” he slurred. He was beginning to weaken.

Razor released garbled sounds as he sagged to his knees. As he struggled to regain his bearings, she sidestepped and rammed a knee into his side, toppling him over.

Groaning, the wounded man landed on his stomach, laid out flat. He grunted when Jesse threw herself on top of him, anchoring him to the floor. She swept the razor out of his reach. She questioned neither her actions nor how long she would be able to keep up the strenuous battle. Blood continued to pour from the slice in her arm. She was panting and light-headed. The odor of sweat, blood, and heat seared her nostrils. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could bear the dizzying stench.

The sound of her thudding heart roared in her ears.
Time to end this
, she thought grimly. Acting on instinct, she drove the heel of her hand into the back of his head. Razor’s brow smacked the floor with a sickening crack.

A terrifying stretch of silence followed.

Just like that it was over. Although Razor lay unmoving beneath her, Jesse didn’t dare move off him. She hoped the fucker was really dead this time.

“Shit.” Gulping in air, she pressed her torn arm between her breasts. The front of her white dress was soaked with blood. Tremors coursed through her. If she didn’t find a way to bandage it soon, she’d bleed to death. “Hey, asshole—”

Razor didn’t stir. This time he was as still as death.

Jesse stared at his motionless form. There seemed to be no air in the room—only coldness; stark, frightening coldness. She shook her head to clear away the haze that began to dance in front of her eyes, but it didn’t work.

Without really understanding what happened next, Jesse felt herself tumble off Razor’s body in slow motion, but in reality she hit the floor with bone-jarring force. She fought to penetrate the darkness that was slowly surrounding her, but the effort felt strangely futile. Numbness filled her—something akin to relief, not the fear or regret she’d expected to feel when death finally came to claim her.

She sprawled across the stone, unable to move a single inch. As she witnessed her blood rapidly staining the filthy gray stone, she felt herself pulling away from the scene, moving ever faster through time and space.

A tear slid down her cheek.
Not like this . . .

Jesse tried to cry out, to call for help, but no one could hear her. She was trapped within the confines of her own mind, otherworldly hands pulling her down, down, into what she dared not contemplate.

Her shudders gradually subsided.

And then she passed out.

 

Maddox jammed the accelerator down. Picking up a burst of speed, Sam Chen’s Pontiac lurched forward. Thirty seconds later the huge cruiser slammed through the gates of Celeste St. Cyr’s estate. Metal screeched and iron tore. The guards working the gatehouse started, speechless and temporarily immobile.

“This is insane!” he screamed as he roared up the driveway. “What the hell are we thinking?” He wasn’t sure, but when Reyen had presented his plan for getting onto Celeste’s estate, it had seemed to be a good idea. Like the cavalry, they’d decided to go in with guns blazing—in broad daylight.

As though to reinforce his nerve, Reyen sped up beside him on his Harley. He gave a quick thumbs-up. “Let’s do this,” he yelled over the roar of engines pushed to the max.

Maddox put the pedal to the metal, aiming the Pontiac straight at the manor’s front door. The tires bounced over a wide marble veranda seconds before the hood smashed completely through the intricately wrought front door. Stone and wood rained down upon the hood.

Without bothering to look behind him, Maddox rammed the gearshift into reverse, peeling out of the hole he’d made. He’d barely had time to clear out of the way before Reyen launched his Harley through the newly made entrance.

Maddox reached for the gun holstered beneath his arm. By now the guards had figured out something catastrophic was happening. Guns drawn, they were rushing to the scene when he leapt out of the car. Its hood was crumpled like an accordion, beyond repair. Since he couldn’t be in on the job, Sam Chen had volunteered his wheels. He’d already called in a report that he’d been mugged and the car had been stolen.

Lifting his .38, Maddox fired.
Blam! Blam! Blam!
His aim was unerring. He didn’t miss.

Weapons skittering out of limp hands, two men abruptly slumped to the ground.

Maddox smiled. One minute in and two men were already dead. As insane as it was, they might just have a chance of pulling this off after all. Though he’d never really wanted to believe in fate, he finally felt at peace with his calling. He’d never had the grit and determination to really carry through with it. Now he knew if a man really wanted something, he had to make it happen.

Jesse had made him want to live—to fight.

Unbelievable, but it was true.

Figuring Reyen could use some backup about now, he scrambled over the debris littering the once-elegant foyer. His heart nearly seized in his chest when he saw Reyen’s Harley wrecked against the far wall. Skid marks were etched into the white marble floor, indication that the bike had been braked and abandoned fast. Two men lay sprawled nearby in a pool of their own blood. They’d been shot down before they could even draw their weapons.

Maddox quickly surveyed the fallen. Relief filled him when he realized neither man was the rangy Choctaw. Shouts and the sound of angry voices were beginning to multiply around him. Armed men were swarming outside. The place would soon be surrounded from all sides.

He’d worry about them later. What was happening inside the manor had his attention right now. A buzz of excitement seemed to be coming from one area in particular.

Maddox followed the sound of angry voices. Pulse pounding in his throat, he crept toward a set of half-open double doors. He could see Reyen standing with his gun drawn in the middle of an elegantly dressed crowd of people. By all appearances, they’d interrupted a cocktail party.

Maddox’s head started to spin. Some of the faces were familiar. Others were not. He’d envisioned the manor to be a dark and dismal place, filled with altars and an ongoing orgy; he hadn’t envisioned a place that looked normal, as did the guests. The upper echelons of the undead, it appeared, were surprisingly civil in a lot of ways.

Who’d have guessed it?

It dimly occurred to him that what they’d done might be a terrible mistake. There could be a chance that neither Amonate nor Jesse was present on the property. If that was the case, they’d probably be looking at a long stretch in prison when the cops apprehended them, provided they weren’t shot down by the SWAT team that might come blasting in at any moment.

The sound of a bullet levering into a gun’s chamber sounded behind him.

Maddox tossed a quick glance over one shoulder.
Shit.
Two men in black suits stood behind him. Well, he’d guessed this part was coming. And he wouldn’t resist. Getting caught was pretty much part of the strategy.

“You might want to go ahead and join your friend,” one of the men suggested behind a toothy smile.

Maddox pushed through the double doors. “Thanks.” He shrugged. “I’d planned to.”

Once inside, he could indeed see that Reyen stood in the middle of an elegant drawing room. Mahogany wainscoting graced the lower sections of the walls, and red and gold velvet wallpapering was alternately mixed with decorative mahogany panels. The wall directly opposite him was mostly occupied by a fireplace, the mantel carved with the same leaf design as the panels. Heavy red velvet drapes hung on the two rectangular windows on the east side of the room, closed to block off most of the sunlight.

Eyes scanning the gathering, Maddox temporarily froze when he saw a girl who looked like Jesse hovering among the Consanguines.

Amanda. Except for the style of their hair, it was difficult to tell the twins apart. They were apparently identical in every way. He had to wonder what fate had kept Jesse alive, yet allowed Amanda to join the ranks of the undead.

Reyen’s gun was pointed straight toward a slender woman. Her chic black gown cut a sharp contrast against her coppery skin. Her long black hair mantled her shoulders like a cloak.

Unfortunately, his comrade wasn’t the one who seemed to be in control. Several more black-suited men were positioned around the room. They all had guns. And they were all pointed at Reyen.

It was clearly a standoff, one that wouldn’t last very long. They were outgunned, ten to two. The odds definitely weren’t in their favor.

As he caught sight of the woman, a sense of familiarity crept through Maddox’s mind. Though he had not laid eyes on her in centuries, he had no doubt as to the striking female’s identity. Grandeur practically radiated off her slender figure.

It was Amonate, reigning Monarch of the New Orleans undead. The centuries hadn’t touched her, either. She looked stunning.

Ignoring the gun pointed at her, Amonate subtly sipped from the wineglass she refused to relinquish. “Ah,” she announced to those around her in a thick, husky voice. “There is the one who still hungers for our dark kisses.”

The guests in the room clapped subtly and sipped their drinks. Instead of being frightened, they seemed quite amused, as though the event were being presented for their entertainment. Why should they be afraid? Right now the threat seemed minimal—laughable, even.

Maddox shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to let the woman who’d infected him play with his mind. “I’m not here to revisit old times,” he grated, determined to get to the point. “I just want the girl you took.”

Amonate arched a raven brow. “You must be confused, Maddox. Serafina’s been dead for quite a while.” A cold smile twitched at her lips. “Or don’t you remember how my children drained her body dry before tossing her carcass at your feet?”

Hearing Serafina’s name spoken aloud suddenly dragged Maddox back to the last time he’d faced the vampire. How could he ever have forgotten the look of Serafina’s body—bruised, mauled, and grotesquely thin?

His mouth felt dry as sandpaper. The bitch was yanking his chain, trying to get a rise out him. “Don’t go there,” he warned, emotion tightening his throat.

“Shut up!” Reyen growled, keeping his gun leveled at their main target. “I have a clip full of silver bullets with your name written all over them.”

Amonate laughed and sipped some more of the rich red wine filling her elegantly fluted glass. “I think we’ve already discussed this,” she replied, as calm and cool as if her party were still ongoing without interruption. “Fire one shot and my men will gun you down. You already know bullets won’t kill any of the Consanguines here.” She crinkled her nose in amusement. “It’ll sting, but they’ll survive.” She shrugged and cut a glance toward one of the covered windows. “And darkness will come soon enough.”

Maddox forced himself to show no reaction. With time running out, they’d had no choice but to plan the attack for the late afternoon. If they were off even a single second, the results could be fatal.

His head started to spin. He steeled himself, refusing to give in to fear or fatigue. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, and he’d had little or no sleep in days. His reflexes weren’t as sharp as they should have been. “We just want Jesse,” he heard himself saying. “Give us the girl and we’ll leave.”

Amonate smirked. “You’re too late. As we speak, our little half soul is having a taste of Razor.”

Fear throttled through Maddox. He knew the man well. He had even tangled with the brawny bruiser more than once. Razor wasn’t only devoted to the Telave—he was insane. If Jesse was indeed in his hands, the chances of her being alive were slim to none. If she wasn’t dead already, she was surely being tortured.

It could be worse
, his mind warned. Razor could have forced her to drink . . .

He shoved the thought away. It was a hell of a time for him to realize he loved Jesse. And he wanted her back. He would give anything for another chance with her—anything at all.

Even his soul.

He licked his lips, summoning the memory of their last kiss. “If you’ve harmed her—” he started to say.

Amonate laughed. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll take everyone out.” He gave Reyen a subtle nod. “Let’s end this once and for all.”

The big Indian took his cue and ran with it. “I don’t think you want your men to be making any sudden moves toward me,” he said, and casually tugged down the zipper on his leather jacket. Sticks of dynamite ringed his thick torso. Tucking his gun into its holster, he plucked one out the way a man might pull a carnation from his lapel. “Got a light?”

Feigning a calm he definitely didn’t feel, Maddox reached into his pocket. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, he flicked open his lighter and lit it. Fingering the shiny Zippo, he tossed it toward Reyen. “Be my guest.”