Petro’s voice cracked. “Please help him, Celia. I don’t want to be alone.”

Emme gasped softly behind him. Yeah. Petro seemed to share our same fears. “I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not making any promises.” The hope he carried slowly faded from his features, but he nodded and released me. I watched as his family helped him into the limo, wondering whether Misha had played a role in keeping him alive all these years.

My sisters followed my lead up the stone steps to a set of massive carved doors. Two more vampires appeared. They pushed open the doors and we stepped into an elegant foyer with a cathedral-style timbered ceiling and floored with huge blocks of bluestone.

I continued forward with Taran to my right. Shayna and Emme followed no more than two steps behind us.

Misha approached with five vampires behind him, wiping his bloodied hands on a thick white towel. Deep-set lines shadowed his beautiful face, and the scent of a fresh kill lingered on his clothes. A female vampire meekly approached and took the soiled towel from his hands. She kept her head low and quickly scurried away, careful to avoid Misha’s increasing rage.

I let out a breath. “How many did you kill tonight, Misha?”

“Five. Not including the three killed by wolves this evening…And the one who just revealed herself to me.”

“You’re down twenty-one vampires.” It wasn’t a question. I could do the math.

Misha answered with a stiff, furious nod. “Again, forgive me for not taking your call when you first sought me. My priority at the time was to hunt those who attempted to escape.” He motioned to a large entryway on our left. “Ladies, if you will join me in the next room.”

Misha escorted us to a dining room roughly the size of Delaware. Four vampires dressed like naughty Catholic schoolgirls offered us food and beverages. We declined. And not just because of their creepy outfits.

The air carried a thick layer of dread interwoven with Misha’s rising anger. Ten vampires convened at the enormous dining room table. We perched at the end. Misha sat to my left, and although five empty seats remained, Hank and Tim, from court, stood behind him.

Misha leaned back on a chair that resembled a throne. He slowly motioned around the room. “With the exception of my men at the gates, these vampires represent the last of my family. I have until tomorrow night to decide our fate.”

I placed my hand over the smooth stone table. “Misha. How certain are you that Zhahara is the one behind the bloodlust?”

A faint sparkle of hate flickered in Misha’s hard gray eyes. “After I killed the fifth of my keep, I sent three of my best spies to investigate Zhahara’s compound. I destroyed two of them days later. The third went absent and I have been informed he drained seven women tonight.” He stared at me for several seconds. “My time is up, my darling Celia. I must account for these murders or prove them to be the work of another master.”

Shayna glanced back at me before addressing Misha. “I don’t mean to ask a stupid question, but…have you spoken with Zhahara directly about it?”

Misha’s eyes never left mine. “Zhahara has not been heard from since our time in court. Yet my remaining spies insist she returned to her compound and has not emerged. My plan is to storm her home tomorrow and find the evidence I need to exonerate me.”

Taran crossed her arms. “What if it’s not her?”

Misha leaned back. He likely wasn’t accustomed to anyone challenging him. His lush mouth tightened into a firm line before curving into a small smile. “Zhahara remains my only lead to saving my family. I have no choice but to act.”

Taran said nothing more, but I knew she saw his point. Otherwise she would have argued until Misha died or she needed to wear Depends.

“Have you reached your decision?”

I didn’t acknowledge my sisters when I answered. “I think I have. I’ll give you my decision by morning.”

Misha nodded slowly, but said nothing more. No witty comment, no flirtatious demeanor. Nothing. Just a vampire desperate enough to seek help from strangers.

I stood. So did Emme and Taran. Shayna pointed to the two antique swords mounted over the mantel of the dining room fireplace. “Can I borrow those, dude?”

A vamp scrambled to retrieve them following a small gesture from Misha. Shayna grinned upon feeling the weight of the ancient swords in her hands. “Cool.”

“I fear they are not as sharp as they once were,” Misha said slowly.

Shayna’s blue eyes sparkled. “Don’t worry. I’ll make them work.”

We headed into the foyer when an oh-too-familiar voice boomed from behind the thick doors.

“I’m not asking for an audience,” Aric growled. “I’m telling you, he will see me!”

The wide wooden doors crashed open, and my big, badass wolf stormed through, flanked by the wolves from the club, a few unfamiliar weres, and oh, yeah, the blond she-wolf with the Victoria Beckham bob. I don’t know who was more shocked, them or us.

Oh, crap.

“Son of a bitch,” Taran muttered when she noticed Gemini.

I’d forgotten about Blondie, but she remembered me. Her eyes glared almost as fiercely as Aric’s when she saw me.

Almost.

Aric stalked toward me. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t wait for me to answer and fixed his scowl on Misha. “What is she doing here?”

For the first time since our arrival, Misha actually smiled. Although I wished I could say it lacked any malice. He snaked his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “Celia is a friend. She is considering helping me in my quest to prove my innocence.”

I’d never seen a wolf implode. But I almost did then.

Aric grabbed my arm and yanked me from Misha’s grasp.

And that’s when all hell broke loose….

CHAPTER 10

Everything happened at once. Emme screamed as werebeasts and vampires collided like a herd of angry buffalo. Growls and hisses erupted in a furious staccato, rattling the windows, framed paintings, and crystal chandelier. The she-wolf’s fist jetted toward my face. I ducked. She would have nailed Aric in the chest had Misha not tackled him through the wall and into the library. I shot after them, but the she-wolf seized my waist and launched me across the foyer. The bones of my back cracked when I bounced off the opposite wall. My ears rang, but not loudly enough to muffle a high-pitched squeal, the crunching of plaster, and the demolition of furniture.

I landed hard on my knees, more pissed than hurt, ready to rumble. I pushed off the floor and stomped toward the she-bitch, momentarily stunned by her appearance.

She lay near the massive hole Misha had made with Aric’s body. Her short blond bob stood on its ends, tips smoking. Taran must have jolted her with lightning in retaliation for taking me for a ride.

Sadly, she didn’t seem happy with her new look. “Ugly freak,” she spat. “This is all your fault!” She clambered to her feet and heaved a Victorian hall stand at me.

She misjudged my speed.

She also misjudged my sword-wielding sister.

Shayna leaped into the air and spun with ballerina elegance befitting her thin frame. Light reflected off her swords as she used her gift to transform the dull blades into deadly sharp weapons. With a piercing whoosh she sliced through the giant stand like a sheet of paper. Two perfectly even pieces crashed to the floor as she landed on one knee, arms outstretched. She twirled the swords as she rose, her tense muscles screeching for action. “Don’t touch my sister!” she hissed.

A small smirk found its way to my lips. Luke Skywalker could suck it. He had nothing on Shayna.

Frustration and rage pervaded the blond wolf’s bellow as she bounded toward Shayna. I leaped in front of my sister, believing one good toss deserved another. My fingers grasped the wolf’s crispy hair and pant leg as she pounced. Her screams wafted throughout the foyer as I pitched her through the large oak doors and into the great outdoors. Blondie’s butt dug a straight line across Misha’s meticulous lawn. Good thing that tall aspen was there to deflect her skid; otherwise the little cutie might have kept going.

My feet barely made a sound as I barreled toward her. She charged, her features contorted with fury, her hot breath visible in the cold night air. She snarled. I roared. The moment we connected we hammered blow after blow.

My strength surprised her; so did my ruthless strikes to her face and stomach. She’d learned to fight. Raised on tough inner-city streets, I’d learned to survive. Her aggressive offense quickly changed to defensive blocks and retreats. I wanted to knock her out, furious she’d put her hands on me. Despite my anger, I allowed her to draw back. The fight riled my beast, yet that didn’t mean I’d allow her to kill.

This time.

I slammed into the crushing embrace of a werebear, his grip fracturing at least one of my ribs. This time I couldn’t silence my shrieks.

“Do you want to take her?” the bear growled.

The she-wolf’s eager grin widened. She stopped smiling when I broke the bear’s nose and cheekbones with my rapid head butts. The bear dropped me with a spew of curses and a crapload of negative comments about my mother.

The moment my feet touched the cold ground I shifted down and behind him. He pivoted around as I surfaced, his lids peeling back when my fist met his groin. Other than a little gurgle, no sound escaped.

I finished breaking to the surface. My hands held my broken rib as I fractured his left knee with my foot. He collapsed, gripping his man parts, and threw up.

Children obviously weren’t in his foreseeable future.

I lunged at the wolf, angry as all hell that she would have attacked me had I not broken out of the bear’s viselike grip. I may have fought dirty, but she was a dirty fighter. We fell onto a wrought-iron table set. I punched her a few times in the face before another wolf hauled me off by the hair. I rammed my elbows wildly and broke her ribs before picking up a chair and knocking her into Misha’s wooded property.

I tossed the chair aside and returned to face Blondie. She backed away, hands up in surrender and blood dripping down to her skimpy designer blouse. I kept her in my sights, debating whether to knock her out, but Emme’s screams had me bolting back to the house.