There were no taunts or jeers, just grunts and growls as the vampires threw vicious blows. He did his best to block them, throwing them back and landing the occasional wild hit. Still, he did his best to block the hallway and keep them from making it upstairs to Shoshanna and Scarlett.
He knew the cost of this fight, and he would pay it like his brothers did. For the first time, he knew he was exactly where he had to be.
A high-pitched hum pierced through the noise, and blinding sunlight exploded in the hall. Amidst a chorus of shrieks, the vampires pummeling him recoiled. Then a gunshot rang out, and he heard Lux shout, “To me! Get me out of here!”
Through the blistering light, Julian could just make out a petite woman’s figure pressed tight to a brawny male, both of them curiously beneath a black umbrella. He fell back, curling into a ball as he tried to recover from the onslaught of inexplicable sunlight. Gritting his teeth, he rose on shaky legs, stumbled when a surely-broken bone in his leg protested, and lurched toward the pair in the lobby.
A firm hand curled into his shirt and hauled him under the umbrella. In that small shade, he made out Kova’s face. Tucked against his body was the petite, dark-haired witch, Stella. A thick shock of white glowed against her dark hair, while her eyes were a curious amber color instead of red.
“Go make sure they’re gone,” Julian croaked.
Kova raised a brow, but nodded and said, “Drop the spell.”
The witch closed her eyes, and the sunlight blinked out. The relief was astounding, even as his eyes struggled to readjust. Julian limped out from under the umbrella, then lumbered for the stairs.
Skin scorched and bones aching, Julian slowly climbed and found more chaos upstairs. Alistair leaned against the doorway to the ritual space, eyes closed, blood streaked down his face. One of the dark-clad vampires lay at his feet, with the head conspicuously missing. Inside, he heard two strong heartbeats, which gave him hope.
As he approached, Julian cleared his throat. “Alistair, wake up.”
“I’m awake,” Alistair said roughly. Given that he was on his feet and not tearing at his hair, either he hadn’t seen Shoshanna, or she’d woken.
Praying it was the second, Julian limped past Alistair and into the ritual space. The once-serene room was a wreck. Inside, Misha knelt near Shoshanna. Ceiling tile and plaster littered the floor around him. The wood floor was streaked with blood in distinctive symbols and patterns. Above them was a gaping hole in the ceiling.The bastards had ripped right through the roof to get inside.
Another dead vampire lay in the corner of the room. Scarlett lay on her back, arm outstretched toward a bearded man. His arms were covered in scorch marks. Panic crawled up Julian’s throat until he saw her chest rise ever so slightly.
Shimmering red light formed a cocoon around Shoshanna, who lay deathly still. “Are they gone?” Misha croaked.
“They’re gone,” Julian said numbly. “Shoshanna?”
“She won’t wake up,” Misha said, his voice sounding so small and unsure. He lifted his gaze. “I don’t know what to do.”
And that frightened Julian as much as anything else, the thought that brash, cocky Misha Volkov didn’t know what to do. “Is she alive? Can you take care of her for now?”
Misha nodded. “Where’s Paris?”
“I don’t know,” Julian said brusquely, turning away before Misha saw the truth all over his face. “Scarlett?”
“Something’s going on with the magic. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she came back with some power of her own,” Misha said.
He knelt next to her. “Scarlett?”
She groaned, eyes fluttering. “I’m here.”
“Okay,” he murmured, kissing the back of her hand. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she breathed. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” he lied. “You stay here and help Misha.”
She nodded, wincing as she tried to sit up. “Just a second.”
Leaving her with the blood witch, he limped back down to the ground floor. There, Kova still held up the petite dark-haired witch. Her body was bruised, her lips almost blue, but her eyes were red and alert. “God, I’m glad to see you,” Julian said.
Kova just nodded. “How bad is it?”
“Bad. I don’t know yet,” Julian said.
Where did he begin? Paris should have been the one to give orders to the Nightwatch, but he was…
