Sire (6 page)

Caitlin's lip trembled. She stared at the door, waiting.

***

The guards were pacing back and forth in front of the gate, an eighteen-foot high hunk of iron that would have been almost impossible to move if it wasn't motorized. It was connected to equally high stone walls, three feet thick and topped with broken glass, that surrounded the entire estate.

God, what a boring job. In the five years that Duke and John had been there, no one had ever broken in. Hell, who would be stupid enough to try? If,
if
they managed to get through the gate or over the walls, there were two dozen bored werewolves just waiting for a little entertainment. And if someone managed to get past the wolves—like there was a chance in hell of that—Liam would be waiting for them. And Liam was faster, stronger, and more dangerous than any wolf on the team.

So it was boring. But the money was good, the meat was free, and every once in a while Liam would toss them one of his girls, when he was done with her. They'd had worse jobs than this.

"Do you hear that?" Duke asked.

"What?" John replied.

"Sounds like a car's coming."

"Bull. It's damn near three in the morning. What would anyone be coming here for?"

"Liam went back out an hour or so ago."

"Liam doesn't
drive.
"

"Oh yeah."

John made a face, but they both squared up their crossbows and faced the gate, all proper like. And sure enough, about a minute later, a car pulled to a stop right in front of the gate.

The guy that got out of the car looked like one of the kids from college, but that didn't mean anything. Hell, you could never tell with these damn vampires. The kid might be nineteen, or ninety, or nine hundred. John didn't like it. It wasn't natural.

The guy walked up to the gate. He had yellow streaks in his brown hair, and John wanted to kick his ass just on principle. Men don't color their hair. "What do you want?" John asked gruffly.

Blondie pressed his face right up to the gate and looked him in the eye. "I have a message from Angelica," he said. "The girl is to be turned over to me."

John and Duke exchanged glances, then looked back at the kid. "Piss off."

The kid's face got all angry when John said that. It was almost cute. "I have her signet," he said, holding up his hand. Sure enough, there was a little gold ring on his pinky finger, with a round seal.

"Aw, that's so sweet. Your girlfriend buys you jewelry. She buy you flowers, too?"

"Or tampons?" Duke asked. They both laughed.

"This is the Regent's Seal," the kid said. "You are disobeying a direct order from Angelica herself."

"It ain't a direct order if he's passing it along, is it?" Duke asked.

"You know, I think you're right. It's an
indirect
order. And I don't listen to indirect orders. Matter of fact, I don't listen to orders from anyone that ain't Liam. So unless he tells me different, you can walk your pretty ass back to your pretty car, and get the hell out of here."

"Fine, let me speak to Liam," the kid said.

"Oh, sure, let me call him right down for you. No, wait, he's not here, and even if he was, he wouldn't give a good God damn about talking to you. So really, piss off before we stick a shaft in you."

Duke snickered.

John waved his crossbow. "The shaft of an
arrow
, asshole. And shouldn't you be pointing your weapon at him in a menacing fashion right now?"

"Right, sorry boss." Duke raised his crossbow and trained it on Blondie.

The kid looked back and forth between them, his eyes lingering on the arrow's silver tips. His face did that cute-angry-kitten thing again. "Fine," he said. "Angelica will hear about this."

"Ooh, I might just piss myself. How about you, Duke?"

"I think my leg is wet already."

The kid stood there looking constipated for another few seconds, then got in his car and drove away.

"Well, that was exciting," John said.

"Most fun I've had all week. You really think that kid was Angelica's errand boy?"

"Hell, I don't know. He looks like the guy she's with, but who can keep track, right? It's always a God damn soap opera with these vampires."

"You got that right. Sometimes I miss being out on our own. Nobody to answer to. Just the pack."

"Yeah, me too, Duke. Me too. But we're making a lot more money standing in front of this gate than we were knockin' over liquor stores and gas stations."

"Yeah, I guess. I just—GHAK!"

Duke's works were cut off by a silver blade, thrust straight through his throat. Smoke rose from the wound. Blood poured out, covering his shirt and pants.

"Duke? Duke!"

The blade withdrew, and Duke fell into a heap on the ground. The kid was standing behind him, holding a long, blood-covered sword in one hand, and a matching dagger in the other. His eyes were red and furious. He snarled, revealing his fangs.

Roaring in anger, John loosed a crossbow bolt at the kid. The kid moved in a blur, and cut the bolt in half with his dagger. God damn vampires.

John threw the empty crossbow on the ground—he really needed to talk to Liam about getting some real guns—and charged. He started to shift on the run, and after three steps he threw himself through the air, snarling and snapping at the kid.

The kid wasn't ready for that, and John's fangs latched onto his shoulder. The kid grunted in pain and fell to the ground. His shirt came off in John's jaws, and John spat it out, snarled, and lunged for the kid's throat.

***

Michael grunted as the wolf clamped down onto his arm.

The creature shook its head, trying to rip it off. But Michael flipped the wolf over, coming up on top of it, and slammed his dagger into the wolf. It squealed and tried to pull away, but Michael held it in place and rammed the dagger home again and again.

The wolf stopped moving, and Michael stood up. He watched as the animal morphed back into a human, and resisted the urge to kick the body in the ribs.

Michael pulled the remaining strips of his shirt away from his body and threw them on the ground, then picked up his rapier and dagger. The werewolves' blood still sizzled and smoked on the silver-laced blade.

Michael looked up at the mansion, steeled himself, and started to run.

He didn't even bother trying to open the doors; he just put his shoulder down and lunged, tearing them from their hinges and sending splintered wood showering into the entryway. The inside of the house was dark, lit only by the moonlight coming through the windows. Two more guards, in human form, were standing inside. They jumped, then trained their crossbows on Michael.

The arrows cut through the air, but Michael saw them moving in slow motion. He turned his shoulder and let one of the arrows slip past him while cutting the other out of the air. He went with his momentum, turning in a complete circle, and threw his dagger right into the heart of the guard on the left.

Two more guards came in, one from the left and one from the right. All three of them shifted into wolf form and began to circle Michael.

The wolves were fast and strong; more powerful than a normal wolf, and more powerful than a human by far. But even a werewolf couldn't compare to sheer overwhelming force a vampire could bring to bear.

Unless they attacked as a pack. Working together, the wolves had an advantage. Working together, they could even take out an old, powerful vampire.

And Michael wasn't old.

The wolves formed a triangle around him and circled to the left. Michael turned, trying to keep all three of them in sight.

The first attack came from behind. The wolf snarled and lunged, and Michael whirled, his blade slicing through the air. But the wolf's attack was a feint; it stopped dead, and the blade sailed harmlessly over its head. Simultaneously, another wolf attacked from Michael's blind side.

Michael fell to the ground and rolled, carrying the wolf with him. He felt teeth sink into his arm—again—and a growl built up in his chest. He came up on top of the wolf and raised his dagger, but the third wolf jumped onto his back, crushing Michael to the ground.

Seeing Michael's vulnerability, the first wolf lunged for his throat. But Michael caught the beast in mid-air and hurled it away. Then he drove his elbow back, striking the animal behind him with bone-shattering force. He punched the wolf beneath him hard enough to crack the marble floor, then jumped to his feet.

The wolves, injured but alive, tried to regroup. Michael moved toward the door, almost too fast for the wolves to track, and pulled the arrow he had dodged out of the wall. He turned and hurled it, and it shot through the air like a missile, lodging in the center wolf's eye. The wolf crumpled to the ground and shifted back into human form.

The wolf to his left let out a howl, and the wolf on his right came at him, snarling. The beast jumped, attacking with a frothing mouth, but Michael caught it by the throat and squeezed, snapping it's neck. The wolf began to shift in his grip, and Michael dropped the corpse on the floor.

The last wolf ran at Michael full bore. Michael ran, too, and kicked his rapier in mid-stride, sending it into the air in front of him. He caught it, whirled, and cut the wolf down.

A pair of arrows smacked into the ground near his feet. Michael looked up to see another pair of human-forms running into the room, dropping spent crossbows and pulling knives. Michael hurled his dagger again, and one of the guards fell to the ground. The second reached down and took his partner's knife, and came at Michael with both blades flashing through the air around him.

The guard knew what he was doing with a knnife; Michael thought that his form looked like some kind of Filipino martial art. But a pair of knives is no match for the reach of a long sword, and Michael held him at bay, the shining blade flicking through the air like lightning, drawing fresh blood every time the guard got too close.

Frustrated, the guard threw caution to the wind and lunged at Michael, both knives high in the air, ready to smash them down into Michael's body. But Michael umped into the air, sailed over the guard's head, and landed neatly behind him. The guard looked left and right, confused. Michael slid up to him, grabbed his hair, pulled his head back, and held the blade to his throat. "Where is the girl?" he asked, his voice a harsh whisper.

"Screw you."

Michael traced the blade along his skin, drawing blood and smoke. "All right, all right!" the guard said. "She's upstairs, big room at the end of the hall!"

"Thank you," Michael said, and slit his throat.

Three more guards, all in human form, were waiting at the top of the stairs. Michael dodged more arrows and threw both of his blades at them. The guards dove aside, untouched by the blades, and came back to their feet. The blades buried themselves into the wall.

Michael was gone.

"What the hell?" The first guard asked.

"God damn vampires," the second said.

"Why the hell are the lights off?" The third asked. "That doesn't even make any sense. How is that supposed to help us?"

"We can see in the dark?"

"Not like
they
can. Jesus. I'm done with this. After we kill this idiot, I'm turning—"

Michael dropped from the ceiling, landing in the midst of the three werewolves. He snapped the speaker's neck and let him fall to the ground.

The other two started to yell. One grabbed for Michael, but Michael raked his talons over the offending arm, shredding flesh and drawing a scream. The other werewolf slashed with a dagger, but Michael blocked it and slashed across his midsection, ripping him open. Then Michael turned and dispatched the other guard with a flash of his talons.

There were five more guards, in wolf form, between Michael and the door. He grabbed his blades and yanked them from the wall, then started forward, as grim as death. The wolves snarled and snapped. Michael moved down the hallway inexorably, severing limbs and slitting throats. Blood and screams filled the air.

Michael stood before the door, surrounded by the bodies of his enemies, and shook the blood from his blades. He braced himself and kicked, reducing the door to splinters with a thundering crash, and stormed into the room.

The empty room.

Michael looked around. "Seriously? You've got to be kidding." He turned and walked back out, and crossed to the
other
room at the end of the hall. He kicked a severed arm out of the way, and smashed his way into the room.

There, curled into a ball and clutching her leg, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, was Caitlin.

Chapter Four

The screaming stopped, and a few seconds later, Caitlin heard a crash that shook the floor beneath her. Her heart pounded, and she tried to push herself further into the corner. She thought she heard what sounded like someone muttering to himself.

And then the door exploded.

It wasn't just torn off the hinges. The center of the door bowed inward, the wood cracked and splintered, and pieces of wood came flying through the air. Caitlin shielded her face with her arms.

When the last of the wood had clattered to the ground, Caitlin looked toward the empty door frame, and stared with wide eyes.

Michael, the guy she met at the club, the guy who had been so angry at Liam, stood there. He was naked from the waist up, and the moonlight illuminated the white skin of his perfect, chiseled torso. His waist was narrow, his stomach looked like it was etched from marble, and his chest seemed like it was carved from stone. His shoulders were wide and powerful. His arms were sinewy, and covered in blood up to the elbows. He held two blades, a sword and a long knife, which dripped crimson and gave off faint wisps of smoke. He stood imperiously, defying anyone to challenge him, and scanned the room with fearsome eyes.

He looked like an angry angel.

His expression softened when he looked at her, and he started forward.

He didn't see Ugly walk into the room behind him.

Ugly drew a knife and slid silently toward Michael. Caitlin opened her mouth to warn him, but couldn't make her voice work. Ugly raised the knife high. It glinted in the moonlight, then plunged toward Michael's back.