Biting Bad (Chicagoland Vampires 8)

"Heading out?" I asked, dropping the mugs on a side table.

He glanced back. "Merit. Yes. I needed some fresh air. Are you leaving?"

"Just heading back in. But if you want to go out, I can accompany you."

"Do you really think that's necessary?"

"I think covering my ass is necessary. And if anything happened out there after I watched you leave and didn't offer an escort, there'd be hell to pay."

"So I'd really be doing you a favor?"

"If you want to think about it that way, sure."

He seemed distracted and didn't put up much of an argument, although that made it easier for me. We stepped outside.

If the cold bothered Scott, he didn't show it. He leaned against the side of the arch that covered the portico and stared into the darkness.

I looked up at the sound of heated discussion. A group of people walked through the gate, undeterred by the human guards and vampires.

I reached for my katana, ready to strike.

But it wasn't rioters.

It was the GP, Harold Monmonth leading the charge. He was swarthy and packed like a sausage into a very snug three-piece suit. His history with the House left much to be desired, and there wasn't much to recommend him in person, either.

He'd brought three of his closest vampire friends behind him, two men and a woman. I recognized them as lower-ranking members of the GP - vampires who hadn't done much but play Follow the Leader and Threaten Cadogan House during my tenure as a vampire.

Behind them on the icy concrete lay the bodies of Louie and Angelo, their limbs splayed in awkward angles, the scent of blood in the air. I was too far away to tell if they were still alive, but the positions of their bodies didn't leave me much hope.

Juliet was nowhere to be seen, and I feared for her; she wouldn't have allowed the guards to be taken without a fight, unless she hadn't been capable of fighting herself. . . .

A thousand exclamations of shock and grief ran through my head, but my throat was tight with fear. As the adrenaline began to speed the processing in my brain, the thoughts congealed and condensed into one central goal: Get in front of Scott.

I unsheathed my sword and stepped in front of him, offering my body as a shield. There wasn't even time to be afraid or to fear the consequences of what I'd done. There was only the act - protecting my partner's Master, and my Master's friend - from the obvious danger in front of us.

"Well, hello, dear," Harold said.

Ethan, Harold Monmonth is here. The guards are down, and I don't see Juliet. I'm outside with Scott. Gather the guards and get your ass out here. And call an ambulance.

"You're trespassing," I advised him. "The authorities have been notified."

"I seriously doubt that, Merit. You haven't had the time, and I doubt the authorities would be terribly concerned about more infighting among Chicago's vampires."

"What do you want?" Scott asked.

"We are here to take what's ours. GP vampires are not to intermingle with trash who've rejected our authority. By being here, you are rebelling against the GP, and we take that as an act of war. Leave this House now, or we will be forced to act."

"As I advised you on the phone," Scott said, "if the GP wishes to give us orders, Darius can contact me directly. I take orders from him, not from you."

"Ah," Harold said, lifting a finger, "but Darius is incapacitated. And while he is, we cannot simply allow this rebellion to go on without reprobation."

He looked at me, and the hair on the back of my neck lifted. McKetrick's hatred may have frightened me, but at least he was guided by principles, disturbing though they might have been. This man was utterly without moral compass. He was motivated only by his own avarice.

"I advise you, child, to step aside."

I refused to move. "Whatever rebellion you think has occurred has nothing to do with us. You're on the property of vampires not associated with the GP. You have no authority here."

Monmonth looked me over from head to toe, and I felt dirtier for it. "You are charming. It's unfortunate we didn't have an opportunity to get to know each other better the last time we met."

Get here fast, I warned Ethan, or I will pummel this guy and enjoy doing it.

I heard footsteps behind me, but they weren't fast enough. Harold Monmonth may have looked out of shape, but he was so fast I didn't even see him move, just felt the bone-jarring impact of my ass on the sidewalk as he kicked my feet out from under me.

"That was disappointingly easy," he said, his face registering his disapproval.

He wasn't the only one disappointed.

My turn, I thought, arching my back, hopping onto my feet, and readying my sword. I gripped it in two hands, the leather cording tight beneath my fingers, my eyes now silvered with lust for battle.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to hit a girl?"

Scott also called out to grab his attention, but Harold didn't care. He'd deemed me his enemy, and he didn't waste any time. He moved forward, unsheathing his sword and spinning it like a dervish.

Move, I silently told myself, aiming for the only spot he wasn't guarding - his ankles. I made a low spin, bringing my own sword around in a perfect arc that sent him flipping backward to avoid it.

He hit the ground and spun the sword around his body. "You think I need weaponry to best you? You are a child, with the strength of a child. I am centuries old, with the strength of centuries." He dropped his sword to the ground, and it hit the ground with a clang. I winced sympathetically for the steel but readied myself for another attack.

"You, like the rest of your House," Monmonth said, stretching out his arms, "are garbage. You are the refuse of legitimate vampires."

"Screw you," I said, moving forward and slashing downward. But Monmonth had already moved, and the sword caught only air.

"Garbage," he muttered again, shifting his weight and executing a side kick that hit me square in the back with the force of a concrete block.

I fell to my knees, my brain registering only pain. I retched air as my body coped with the sensation, and I opened my eyes to see the other GP members spread out and begin the attack. The battle began.

"Monmonth!"

Ethan's voice roared across the yard.

Sentinel? he silently asked.

I'm fine, I told him. I put a hand on the ground to push myself up, but my body wasn't yet ready for movement. Pain radiated from my back, muscles spasming in waves.

I tried again to get up, to warn Ethan back, but as vampires battled around me, I couldn't find my footing. And I was too late anyway. Ethan had already advanced on Monmonth, with two katanas in hand.