Depraved (Tales of a Vampire Hunter #2) (19 page)

Pact? Oliver turned to Lobo. Once
more, he’d been deceived.

“Lobo was to kill you, when we
were in his lair,” Miranda said. Her gaze met Oliver’s. “I saw it in his
thoughts.”

“He saw his chance to kill me
instead and took it. Ever the fool, Lobo,” Azazel said.

Lobo moved to stand with Oliver,
his dark eyes almost black, flashing with anger. “I knew he would perform a
sacrifice if you could get this far. My spies told me it was to happen and I
had to attack. I used you to trick him into opening the temple, feeding, and
draining himself.” His lips curved into a faint smile. “I knew you’d fight your
way out, and hoped you’d have found a way to take down Azazel. I had to try.”

“Do you know about the humans he
has locked up in his basement?” Oliver asked.

“Of course. They’re part of why I
am here. Azazel’s carnage has to stop.”

“This is all very touching, but
it’s getting late. We really should wrap this up,” Azazel said, still leaning
against the altar stone with the stance of a man under no threat.

His gaze flickered suddenly to Miranda,
and stayed there. He licked his lips, and looked her up and then down, mouth
twisting into a slight smile. “It will be a shame to see 
you 
go.
Magnificent you are! A fighter. Burning with passion. You would make a fine
queen. You would serve me well, in the bedroom and out of it.”

Miranda smiled, chin lowered, full
bottom lip lushly spreading into a smile that lit her blue eyes. She leaned
slightly forward and her small breasts seemed to swell from her bodice.

Jesus! Oliver had never seen her
so sexy, so sensual in her movements. Watching her lick her lips, imagining
that mouth on him, he bit his lip to keep from moaning. What the fuck?

Miranda’s eyes never wavered from
Azazel’s. “Yes, I would. I thought so from the moment we met. I
should
be
Queen of the vampires,” she said. She took a step toward him.

Oliver frowned. What the fuck?
“What—”

“Yes, my love, Queen of the
vampires you shall be,” Azazel said, his voice softer, the words slightly
slurred. His gaze was locked to Miranda’s and he held out a hand, beckoning
with curling fingers.

He wants her but he doesn’t want
to leave the altar, Oliver realized. He’s weakened by the ceremony.
Weapons
won’t work, unless he is weakened.

Miranda was seducing him! The way
any hunter would. She couldn’t mean it. Couldn’t really want to be with his
father.

Oliver stepped forward, reaching
out to catch Miranda’s hand.

She pulled gently away, moving to
stand with his father who wrapped his arm around her waist. “Oliver, don’t,”
she said, her voice eerily calm. “It’s too late.”

Azazel smiled, his hand sliding up
to cup one of Miranda’s breasts. “Yes. Too late for you.”

“Let her go,” Oliver growled,
taking a step closer.

“He cannot let me go. I am to be
his queen.” Miranda’s voice had a husky quality to it that sent shivers down
Oliver’s spine.

“I cannot let her go. She is to be
my queen.” Azazel’s voice matched hers in tempo and desire.

Oliver took another step closer,
the hand holding his dagger shaking, the other curling into a fist.

Miranda’s eyes shimmered. She
shook her head, her hand sliding up not to pull Azazel’s hand away, but to
cover it with her own in a tender gesture.

“You’re wrong, Oliver. I see that
now. You and I were never meant to be. Always on the run, always in fear of
vampire hunters and vampires. With Azazel, I will never fear again,” she said.

Her voice had the same sultry tone
Oliver had heard when they’d watched the sacrifice in the great hall as if she
was drugged or in a trance. Did she mean it? It couldn’t be.

“Go, Oliver. Go now and he will
let you live,” Miranda said.

“I’ll at least give him a head
start, Love,” Azazel said, dark eyes glittering in the moonlight, his hands
roaming over Miranda’s curves.

“Go,” Miranda said. “Go back to
your hunter family where you belong.”

Oliver had heard about broken
hearts before, but he’d never believed in them until that moment when his
seemed to shatter in his chest.

“You can’t mean it,” he said, his
voice gruff with emotion.

Go back to his hunter family? But
his mother hated him, chased after him too. Maybe Azazel 
had
 drugged
her, muddled her mind somehow. No, she’s doing this; look at him. He can’t keep
his hands off her.

In her heels, she was almost as
tall as Azazel. Her lips pressed to his cheek. Her hand curled around his neck,
drawing him closer, though her eyes lifted to meet Oliver’s.

He took a step closer. Only a few
feet separated him from them now.

“Run home to Mommy, Son,” Azazel
said. He laughed.

The weapons won’t work, unless
he is weakened.
Oliver held Miranda’s
gaze. Could he trust her, trust his instincts despite what his eyes saw, when
everyone he’d ever known had betrayed him?

She had curled her fingers over
Azazel’s shoulder, her body swaying into his, one leg lifted to slide
intimately in the space between his thighs. Around them, their spirits began to
swirl. The shimmering white of hers danced around the black of his father’s,
streaking it with curls of white as they blended.

Azazel moaned, seeming to forget
everything but Miranda’s kiss and the touch of her hands on his body.

Oliver could not bear it, nor
could he leave. He looked down at the circle of stones carved with strange
symbols that he stood upon—two hands ripped apart a chain held between them,
and words he had heard before—
El respeto al
derecho ajeno es la paz
.

“Respect for the
rights of others will bring peace,” he said softly, gaze flickering to Lobo’s.

The man nodded
almost imperceptibly.

“I will not kill
a man as great as this one is destined to be, Azazel,” Lobo said, throwing down
his sword.

“It matters not.
I see that now,” Azazel answered, his voice softer. He took more of the kisses
Miranda gave him. “I have what I want. What I need,” he said, in an almost
sing-song voice.

“Yes, what you
need . . . I can give you, only me,” Miranda said. “You do not need to kill
your son. He will not open the door between our worlds.”

“He will not open
the door between our worlds,” Azazel repeated, as if hypnotized.

Miranda’s fingers
parted his jacket, pushing it away from his chest as she caressed him, blue
eyes flickering to meet Oliver’s even as she kissed the vampire again, her aura
turning his gray now.

“They will leave
us,” Miranda said.

“They will leave
us,” Azazel repeated, eyelids drooping.

“Drop your
useless weapons,” Lobo said to his men.

A clatter of
metal meeting stone rang out, drawing Azazel’s gaze.

“Yes. Go now, all
of you,” Azazel said. “Go—”

Before he could
finish, Oliver reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out the
pistol he’d hidden there and forgotten about. With the vampire’s gaze still on
Lobo’s men, Oliver saw his chance and fired the silver bullets at his father’s
chest, hitting him square in the heart.

Weak from loss of
blood, and from Miranda’s vampire hunter spell, Azazel was caught completely
off-guard. The silver bullets penetrated his body, sending him crashing to his
knees. “No!” he cried out, meeting Oliver’s gaze, confusion swirling in his
own.

Lobo’s men ran
forward, scooping up their silver swords, driving them into the fallen
vampire’s body before he could do anything more than moan, looking in disbelief
to Miranda who stood behind him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Oliver stepped
forward, into the gray swirl that was his father’s aura. He reached within
himself and with everything he had, hurled his own spirit energy at Azazel. His
aura—angry red—slammed into the vampire’s, scattering it. At its core, a black
mass pulsed and shrank from Oliver even as Azazel’s body had already begun to
wither and writhe in death throes on the ground at Oliver’s feet.

“Die,” Oliver
growled.

He plunged his
fist into the cloud of auras, grabbing the black heart of his father’s vampire
essence and squeezing it until all life pulses died and a white light replaced
the black, slamming into Oliver and almost knocking him down.

The moon came out
from behind a cloud, casting what remained of Azazel’s body in its light. It
smoked and sputtered as if touched by the sun’s rays. Soon, all that remained
of him were his jewels, twinkling amidst the smoke and dust.

“Oliver!” Miranda
ran to him, launching herself into his arms.

Oliver held her
close, relief slamming into him. They’d done it. Together. He’d never doubt her
again.

More people
appeared on the top of the temple. Adonia and the men who’d driven him to meet
Azazel joined by many Oliver recognized from the celebration earlier and from
Lobo’s lair.

“The walking
dead,” Miranda said in a tired voice.

“Free at last,
thanks to you both,” Lobo said, squeezing Oliver’s shoulder.

“
Gracias
,”
Adonia said, tears shimmering in her eyes as she came through the crowd to
stand before Oliver and Miranda.

“What will happen
to them now?” Contentment flooded Oliver’s chest as he held Miranda close.

“I will finally
be free to take their souls home,” Lobo said.

“I’m sorry I
didn’t give you a chance to explain before, Mr. Lobo,” Miranda said. “I just .
. .”

Lobo held up a
hand, stopping her. “You were angry, faced with stories that seemed impossible.
I understand and would not have handled myself with as much grace as you did,
Miss Miranda. You need not apologize. All is well. The two of you should feel
nothing but pride.” Lobo smiled.

“I’m still trying
to understand everything,” Oliver admitted. “You said before that my . . . that
Azazel had prevented you from taking the walking dead home. How?”

“Azazel wanted to
use them for his own designs. He figured out a way to keep them here, by
keeping the door between our worlds closed.” His voice was gruff. Pain etched
his features and darkened his eyes.

“He bit you,”
Miranda said softly, laying a hand on Lobo’s arm, then looking at Oliver. “A
vampire’s bite, without death, can bind a person to the vampire. It is never to
be done. I didn’t know why before.”

“I was no longer
able to move freely between our worlds and all the walking dead were as trapped
as I was.”

“So what will
happen now that Azazel is dead?” Oliver asked.

“The vampires he
created by giving them his blood will perish,
 
and their souls too will be free to go with me. I will
guide them all safely home. The balance will be restored,” Lobo said. He too
looked at peace, his aura no longer black, but a pure white like Miranda’s.

Oliver nodded,
more willing now to believe in such things after all he’d been through, feeling
the truth of Lobo’s story as if he’d taken Azazel’s memories along with his
life. He had many more questions, but knew they’d have time now to be answered.
Looking down at Miranda, he smiled.

“I love you,” he
said, his voice filled with awe over her strength and bravery and what she’d
done to save them all. “Always full of surprises you are.”

“It’s been a
night of surprises, but what else is new?” she said. She grinned, throwing her
arms around his neck and hugging him tight.

In Oliver’s
chest, the heart he thought had broken seemed to heal at her touch as warmth
flooded him and he held her tight.

Lobo’s men found the key among Azazel’s ashes that would open the cell
doors and free the humans trapped below the temple. Each one left with a bit of
treasure from Azazel’s study.

The little girl
whose hand Miranda had held cried when she said goodbye to them,
a
nd many of the adults did too.

Before Lobo had
his people take them where they wished to go in cars he’d sent for, he wiped
each of their memories of the trauma they’d endured, sending them off into the
night to reunite with their families, never to speak of all they’d seen in the
temple.

“It is for the
best,” he told Miranda and Oliver. “They will live long, happy lives not
fearing the creatures they saw here.”

Lobo took the
souls home as promised. The temple was cleared of its riches, everything taken
away to be donated to churches and villages and the people of Oaxaca who could
use the things the money from their sale would buy.

Oliver called one
more time on Al from the pawn shop to help them find buyers for much of it,
paying the man handsomely for his help and silence about where everything had
come from.