“But a moral equivalency.”
“Morals from a vampire break my heart, Barend,” I snapped. “Especially those vampires who fight with Amal and not against her.”
He turned his brittle charm on me. “Not my vampires. We have always fought against Amal, but you and yours have taken away our greatest weapons.”
“Hybrids who turn feral in battle?” the Alpen asked. “They’re useless, overwhelmed by the blood lust.”
The vampire said, “Flaws are everywhere, but we are as intent as you, Mule. We fight our own way.”
“And we can’t trust you,” Rus snarled.
I interjected, “Why are you here?”
“To join us?” the Alpen sneered. “Or recruit her?”
“To ask a favor.” Barend’s demeanor changed as his voice lowered. “If you get to him first—the vampire pinned to Amal’s wall.” He held out a plastic blood bag. “Antoine is my sire. He’ll be too weak to fight. I ask only that you give him this. Let him feed and regain the strength to free himself.”
I stared at the blood bag. “This was what you wanted all along?”
“Not all.”
“Vampires teleported hostages while Amal attacked,” argued Lec Rus, shooting his glare toward me. “We owe him nothing.”
“Not Barend’s vampires,” a woman said.
And who in flaming bright hell had invited a female’s voice into this conversation?
But Angel stood beside a tarp-covered stack of boxes. The one-eyed mercenary had her bow drawn, an arrow nocked and aimed at Barend, even though she’d just defended him, and the situation was determined to get worse because ten vampires slammed down around Barend, shimmering into being as they settled.
The way they appeared and disappeared was nauseating. Angel was saying something about, “Tempt me, vamp. Find out how Ago died.” And I struggled to find the normal in what was not normal.
“You’ll leave her alone,” said Angel while Barend’s fangs glistened. “She has a job to do.”
The Alpen snarked, “She’s a fucking damn stowaway.”
Barend expanded his shoulders, part mist.
Angel whistled, and the not-normal dissolved into chaos as men stepped out from behind trees and the storage containers, outnumbering the Alpen by the dozens, bypassing the vampires, standing in ranks behind… me?
Lec Rus glared at Angel. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Alpha of the Blackfish,” she said.
He stiffened. “I’ve heard of your pack. Rumor and nightmare.”
“Not rumor, but definitely nightmare.”
The men gathered behind me were powerful, bristling fighters, while Angel stood calmly.
“You’re their Alpha?” I hoped that didn’t sound as disbelieving as I felt.
She nodded.
I gestured. “And… these men are here because?”
“You need their protection.”
“They owe me nothing.”
