One of the vampires stalked toward Hasan. He had a sharpened stake in one hand. As he raised it, Hasan’s eyes widened in fear.
“Varro sends his regards,” the man said.
Natalya recognized his voice. She would have known it anywhere. She wanted to murder the man behind that voice.
She threw herself over Hasan as the masked Stefano brought the stake low. It pierced into her shoulder, hurting and burning.It would have incapacitated a vampire. It barely slowed her down.
Snarling, she surged on Stefano, grabbing his wrist and overloading his senses. It forced him to his knees. She would have ripped his head off, but more vampires were moving in, so she shoved him away instead.
There were many of them. Too many. But Hasan had guards nearby. She’d noticed them when she first arrived at the restaurant. She only needed to hold Varro’s hitmen off until they got there.
A dreadful thought entered her mind that maybe the guards had already been disposed of.
Standing over the now-seizing Hasan, she incapacitated any vampires that came near. With a look or a touch, she sent them backing away in terror or made them fall to the ground, unable to move. Some—the ones who staggered at her feet rather than away—she tore to pieces. She was fully satiated, and the violence came so easily. But it was draining her, and it was draining her fast.
She was about to pick Hasan up and just make a run for it when the loud crack of a shotgun being fired rung through the garden. A cascade of tiny, stinging pellets hit her back. Then they seared. Then they felt like flames.
Staggering forward, Natalya grabbed the back of a chair to keep upright. There was another shot, more pain. She fell to the ground.
“Rock salt shells,” Stefano said. He’d gotten to his feet, sounding triumphant behind his mask. “Infused with sage, garlic, and clove. Of course.”
He pulled out a knife and stalked towards her, stabbing the blade into her side. The weapon sunk in to the hilt.
The bright pain that pierced through her was all-consuming. It didn’t even make her scream. It was too great for that. That type of pain could only be caused by one thing.
“Steel quenched in sage-infused saltwater,” Stefano snarled in her ear. “We know how to hurt you. We know, you unholy whore.”
If he had aimed higher, he would have hit her heart and killed her. Stefano knew what he was doing. He’d missed on purpose.
“Grab her,” Stefano said, waving his men forward. They approached hesitantly. A wise decision, as Natalya’s current pained state would activate all her defenses to the point where just touching her skin would bring searing pain. But she had little energy left. If siphoned completely, her defenses would vanish, and she’d be helpless against them.
The distant sound of running feet made the vampires pause. Stefano cursed.
“Never mind what Fane said.” Stefano tore off her jacket and then ripped the back of her dress to pieces. “Take it, for fuck’s sake.”
There was sudden bright and brief light, like from a camera flash, and realization dawned as to what this was, at least in part. Stefano had bared her back and sides. He was photographing her marks.
It would be useless. Unless part of an active circle, fiendish marks could only live in flesh or memory. If not inked in hide or skin, they would burn away in just a few minutes. A photo was worthless.
Stefano clearly didn’t know that. His intention spurred her into rage.
Stefano started to move away, and Natalya summoned the last of her strength only out of fury. She grabbed his ankle, pushing enough pain and suffering into his body that it would have killed a human in an instant. It caused Stefano to fall unconscious.
Natalya started dragging her way towards him. She wanted him dead. She wanted to tear out his ribs and crush his cold, cruel heart in her hands.
Her wish wasn’t granted. Before she could reach Varro’s spawn, his men picked him up and ran off.
She was faintly aware there were people around her. Voices calling Hasan’s name. He was still seizing on the ground. His guards had arrived.
“The Court of Chains.” Natalya pulled the knife from her side, screaming as it exited. She was covered in black ichor, and her body shivered from pain. Salt was still embedded in her back.
“What, ma’am?” one of the guards said.
Natalya pushed herself to her feet. How she was able to, she didn’t know. The agony rushing through her was so overwhelming it blocked out all other sensations. She was faintly aware her marks would be partially visible and turned so the guards wouldn’t see.
“Get us to the Court of Chains.”
Chapter 30
