Balthazar (Evernight 5)

“Come with me,” Balthazar pleaded. “Charity, please. This is our best chance.”

“You didn’t choose me!” she screamed, so loudly that he knew at least one of the vampires would wake.

So Balthazar pushed himself up from the floor, drew his coat more tightly around him, and ran out into the snow. As it sloughed into his boots, chilled him head to toe, he continued hurrying away from the inn—from Redgrave, and Constantia, and the only life he’d known since his death.

He still had no idea what kind of existence a monster like himself could expect.

He knew only that he had to find it—and face it, alone.

Chapter Seven

BALTHAZAR REACHED INTO THE INNER POCKET of his long coat, taking hold of the bone handle of the wide-bladed knife he’d put there. This would do for a beheading if he got the chance.

Not that it was likely. Redgrave wouldn’t invade Skye’s home with anything less than full force. Lorenzo, Constantia, and the rest of the crew he’d acquired since they’d last met—they would all be with him. That meant Balthazar had to stick to the plan and put off his ultimate revenge until later. Even though there was nothing he wanted more than to make Redgrave pay for what he’d done to him, what he’d done to Charity—

—his eyes sought Skye, her form visible in the darkness, young and frightened but trying so hard to be strong—

—because of what Redgrave was doing to Skye, too. Because of every foul, selfish thing Redgrave had done these past four centuries. It was more than enough reason to take off a guy’s head.

Not tonight, Balthazar reminded himself, though he followed it with an inner promise: Soon.

The footsteps reached the stairs, heavy against wooden floorboards. Skye jumped slightly, and Balthazar could see that she was trembling. He laid one hand on the small of her back, and she steadied herself immediately. It was humbling to think that she would rely on him so completely, given how he’d failed with Redgrave in the past.

Starting, of course, with the day of his death.

The tribe was in the hall now, mere steps from the door. Skye’s breathing had become as fast and shallow as a deer’s at the moment of slaughter. Balthazar pressed his hand more firmly against her back, just for an instant, before he took it away to step in front of her, between her and the danger.

So faintly that Balthazar could barely make it out, Redgrave laughed.

He thinks it’s funny. Funny that Skye’s scared to death, funny that I’m up here waiting for him.

We’ll see how funny he thinks it is in a minute.

The door swung open. Redgrave stood there, framed by darkness, as though he were alone. Skye gasped, but Balthazar forced himself not to turn back to her. Redgrave would see that as weakness.

“Well, well,” Redgrave said. “I always knew we’d meet again, but I hardly thought it would be in a girl’s bedroom.”

“Get out.” Balthazar didn’t expect Redgrave to do this, but it was all he had to say to him.

Redgrave just grinned. “You were making a pet of her, weren’t you? Can’t say I blame you, Balthazar. She’s quite lovely. You never did indulge enough. But I hope you’ve already had your fill.”

“You’re seriously disgusting,” Skye said, but Redgrave didn’t even glance at her. To him, she wasn’t a person, merely a vessel for the blood he craved.

“I said, get out. Turn around and walk out of here,” Balthazar said.

“You don’t really expect me to do that, do you?” Behind Redgrave, at the edges of the doorframe, a couple of the other vampires appeared, as if to prove to Balthazar just what he was up against. They might have been any other set of young people—college aged, perhaps, one of them still wearing her hipster horn-rimmed glasses—but Balthazar could sense the ferocity behind their bland faces.

“No, I don’t expect you to go,” Balthazar said. “But I thought I should give you fair warning.”

Redgrave grinned, his smile refined, even beautiful, despite the evil heat in his eyes as he looked past Balthazar to Skye. “Do you even know what you’ve got there?”

The flickers of the intense flashback he’d experienced that day lit up within Balthazar’s mind, reigniting his anger. “You’re the one who doesn’t know what he’s dealing with.”

As Redgrave stepped forward—stalking turning into attack—the room’s temperature plummeted to a chill so deep that Balthazar felt as if he would go numb. Skye’s human breath created a small cloud of vapor in the darkness of the room.

Redgrave hesitated only a moment, but that was long enough.

Brilliant, aquamarine light flooded the room as ice began to coat the windows, the walls, and the ceiling. In the center of the light, Bianca took shape, spinning from something not unlike a wavering candle flame to herself, red hair streaming around her.