Author: Kalayna Price

I can work with that.

A cold smile crossed the Collector’s face, but she stared at Steven as she said, “My dear, we did not agree on a time frame for your release, and you did not deliver the shapeshifters to me. Elizabeth did.”

As she spoke, Nathanial pulled the last inch of silver from Bobby’s chest. He dropped the bloody chain, and Bobby stumbled from the chair. His legs collapsed beneath him. I lunged on instinct, grabbing his arm before he hit the floor.

It was the wrong move.

His skin slipped and the energy of his beast washed over me. It stung as it dug into my skin, calling to the beast I no longer appeared to have.

Bobby was no tagged shifter whose change took long minutes. He was natural born, and a fast changer at that. I tried to release him, but his energy tangled around my fingers, gripped my arms. The radiating energy clawed at me.

His arm twisted, shifted.

Crap.

I pried my hands away, but they moved too slow, as if the energy had turned solid around me. It clung to me as I backpedaled, and I gritted my teeth against what was both pain and the familiar call of Firth. A call I couldn’t answer, now that I was a vampire.

“The silver is effective,” the Collector said, tearing her eyes from Steven’s slowly shifting shape to focus on Bobby. Her head cocked to one side, her stare an inquisitive but objective observation. I’d seen Gil watch me in similar ways. Very similar. Except Gil wasn’t a cold-hearted walking corpse.

At my side, Bobby straightened. Fur cloaked his body, but he stood on two legs, caught in midform—half man, half beast. A warrior’s form. Claws curved from his fingers, scythe-like and deadly. A muzzle of carnivore’s teeth protruded from his face.

Still the energy of Firth thrummed over my skin—warm, alive. It washed my body in adrenaline. My muscles tensed.

My breath rushed out of me. The need to shift battered against my chest and made my skin too tight. But I couldn’t shift anymore. The coil deep in my center was still hard. Still cold.

I shoved the energy down to my hands. The joints in my fingers popped, snapped. The skin over my fingertips split. My claws slid free, long enough to make a tiger proud.

Soft, chime-like laughter floated across the room. “You are wonderfully predictable,” Elizabeth said, smiling at me like a cat who’d cornered a mouse.

I flexed my claws. I was not a mouse.

“Does this fit in your game?” I asked, goading her. My words came out with a lisp—my fangs had extended.

Elizabeth’s smile widened, and she cast a glance at Ronco.

“Actually, yes.”

She twisted a ring on her finger, and words spilled from her mouth. Words my mind tried and couldn’t understand, couldn’t remember.

My stomach twisted. I knew of a word that couldn’t be heard. A mage’s name.

Magic tingled along my skin. The air zinged with power, and a large, black serpent appeared in the center of the room. He reared back, his jaw opening to flash fangs dripping with poison.

The Collector ripped her eyes from Bobby. She glanced at the coiled serpent, a frown stretching over her face.

“Elizabeth, what is the meaning of this?”

“This?” the small vampire asked, her face all mock innocence. Then her voice deepened. “This is a coup.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Now, Trevin,” Elizabeth yelled, and the snake lunged.

The Collector didn’t flinch. “Ronco, take care of the serpent.”

Her bodyguard didn’t move—none of her enforcers moved.

Not that I expected them to, but their defection had never entered the Collector’s mind. She stood there, assuming they’d jump to her defense.

They didn’t.

Surprise flashed through her face as the snake’s strike tore into her shoulder. Her eyes flew wide, and she ripped the snake away, hurling the massive serpent across the room.

Then her dark glare turned on her enforcers.

“Do not expect lenience, any of you.” She pressed a hand to the slowly oozing wound on her shoulder. “This is treason.

This—” The Collector took a step forward and her legs buckled beneath her, the poison taking effect. She fell to her knees.

“This is inevitable,” Elizabeth finished for her. “Too long my master has catered to your whims. He begs like a dog for your scraps when he should be seated at the head of the table.” She curled her small fist in the Collector’s hair and jerked, exposing the Collector’s throat. “No more. Ronco?”

The large guard unsheathed a dagger and pressed it into her small hand. I glanced at Nathanial. He stood tense at my side, watching, but not interfering. In this situation, the enemy of our enemy was less friend and definitely enemy. It didn’t matter who won. All parties involved wanted us dead.

“Goodbye,” Elizabeth whispered, and the blade blurred.

The Collector’s body crumpled to the floor—her head remained in Elizabeth’s hand. Blood splattered onto the skirt of Elizabeth’s dress, dark against the white lace. The small vampire lifted the head higher, smiling at the Collector’s slack jaw. Then her eyes darted to me.

“Catch.” She hurled the head.

It arced across the room, tumbling in the air and slinging blood to the floor, the ceiling. I jumped out of the way, and the enforcers surged into motion. They rushed us, fangs out, fists raised.

I lifted my claws, and Bobby and Nathanial edged in front of me. Samantha’s form shimmered, solidifying twice as wide, with bulging muscles and blocky features.

“It is a shame the Collector lost her life in your escape attempt,” Elizabeth said, her voice conveying the vicious smile I couldn’t see beyond the bodies of the charging vampires.

The first enforcer reached us, and in one swift move Nathanial sent him crashing into the next. Two enforcers jumped in the air, flying toward the high ceiling. Then they twisted, diving at us.

Crap.

Nathanial glanced at them, his full lips drawing thin. His eyes darted from me to Bobby. “Guard her,” he commanded.

Then he was in the air.

I don’t need guarding. We needed a way out.

Bobby met the next attacker head on, and they both went down, rolling in a blur of claws and fists. Samantha rushed forward, barreling into the next vampire.

A howl ripped through the air behind me. A low, angry snarl followed. I cringed, my spine stiffening. Oh crap.

I whirled around as Steven charged. He’d shifted to an advanced mid-form, more wolf than human, and his blue eyes were wide, mad.

Wolf. A rogue shifter in wolf form. I’d rather deal with vamps.

I didn’t get a chance.

Taloned feet scraped the ground as Steven leapt for me. I caught his arms, keeping his claws from as much of my flesh as possible, and absorbed his weight. I let his momentum push me to the ground. I rolled with it, tucking my legs and bringing my feet up as my shoulders hit the ground. Steven’s stomach landed against my feet, and I shoved with my legs.

He flew over my head, flipping in the air and slamming into two oncoming vamps. All three went down. Blood flew as Steven tore into them with the ferocity of insanity-driven rage.

I rolled to my feet, tearing at my stupid tulle skirt as it tangled around me again. The rasp of scales on stone warned me of the snake’s approach. I tensed, but let him slither closer. Content to let him think I hadn’t noticed. I closed my eyes and blocked out the sounds of fighting raging around me, focused on the soft rasp behind me.

Closer.

Closer.

The sound stopped, and I imagined the snake rearing back, preparing to strike while I was unaware. I spun and dove in the same movement, letting my ears guide my claws.

I caught the snake in the soft flesh under its jaw. My claws sank deep, and I slashed downward, tearing a gash three feet long down the snake’s belly. He hissed, toppling backward.

Blood sprayed from the wound. The snake thrashed, contorting. The skin thinned, peeled back, and a man, not a snake, flailed on the floor.

A long gash split his chest, his lungs and other dark organs visible. But a vamp might heal from those wounds. I’d healed from nearly as bad.

“Gildamina!” I yelled.

Magic zinged through the air as she popped into the room.

Her eyes widened, and I saw her swallow as she took in the fray. I saw the questions forming on her lips.

“Mage turned vampire,” I yelled, pointing at the thrashing vamp.

Her gaze snapped to him, a familiar spark of curiosity lighting her features. She rushed forward, and the injured mage tried to twist back, away.

He wasn’t fast enough. “What a specimen,” she said.

Magic tingled through the air as her hand landed on the vamp. He vanished.

“Take the skin to Biana,” I said, pointing at the black, castoff skin. It was a shredded mess at this point, but at least I could pay one debt.

Gil gathered the skin, nearly tripping over her boots in her haste. “I’ll get you out too,” she said, stepping forward.

“No.” I backpedaled. “We’ve got this covered.” I was not letting her throw me into the void. Not now. Not while I might be needed here.

Besides, it was true. As I spoke, Nathanial threw the last aerial attacker to the ground. The vamp didn’t get back up.

Two bodies lay around Bobby. He was soaked in blood and had a dripping bite wound in his throat, but he was up and running to help Samantha, whose arm hung at an awkward angle as she struggled with Ronco, the last enforcer standing.

Neither of the vamps under Steven were moving—and probably hadn’t in a while. The rogue continued tearing into them, reveling in his first kill.

I’ll have to deal with him. But first we had to find Elizabeth.

Content we had the fight under control, Gil vanished. My gaze flickered around the room, searching.

A small prick pinched my shoulder, the smallest sting. I whirled around and Elizabeth jumped back, an empty syringe in her hand. An empty syringe that reeked of poison.

“You’ve over-extended your usefulness,” she said, letting the syringe hit the ground. She lifted her dagger. A dagger still glistening with the Collector’s blood.