Chapter 18 #2
The first floor was largely closed off against the elements, making the interior incredibly dark.
From what Philippe could see, the space contained concrete support pillars and wood framing.
Wires threaded through some of the frames, but the electricians were far from done.
Tables made from planks of wood and sawhorses dotted the landscape, but it didn’t look like there were any tools.
Probably locked up to stop thieves. It was surprising that the entire site wasn’t better secured.
At the far side of the first floor, they spotted a dark staircase leading up to the next floor. Philippe darted across the room, inwardly wincing at the noise his pounding footsteps made on the concrete floor. Every noise seemed to echo.
“Was Ezra out alone?” Rafe asked.
“Yes. Hunting.”
“I thought you said no one was allowed to leave the house alone. No hunting solo.”
Philippe sighed and paused at the foot of the stairs.
He twisted around to glare at Rafe in the thick darkness.
Even though his eyes were more like a cat’s since becoming a vampire, he still couldn’t make out all of Rafe’s features in the shadows, but he got the impression his companion was frowning.
“I didn’t put those same restrictions on Ezra, Jullien, or myself because I thought we were more than capable of handling a threat. I hadn’t considered that someone would be coming after an Arsenault in such numbers.”
Rafe grunted. “When this is over, I’m seriously considering moving into Arsenault Manor just so I don’t have to think about you ever leaving the house alone.”
Philippe was torn between joy at having Rafe in his home and bed at every second of the day and angrily reminding his lover that he was a clan leader. He was perfectly capable of watching his own back.
But he would have made the same argument for Ezra.
It was better to ignore him and his own annoying thoughts for now. They weren’t helping Ezra or getting them any closer to finding out who was threatening the Arsenaults.
With his stupid tire iron in hand, Philippe charged up to the second floor as silently as possible.
He looked around as they reached the floor and frowned.
There were more walls in place here. Solid, concrete walls for the elevator shaft and other walls for offices possibly and the mechanicals of the building.
His gaze darted in both directions of the wide hall they’d stepped into, trying to figure out which way to turn when a low growl echoed from the right.
Not a sound from a human or even vampire throat.
It had to be from the wolf that Winter had mentioned.
“Wish I called Bel,” Rafe grumbled under his breath. “He could have talked to the dogs.”
They hurried in the direction of the sound, no longer caring if the other vampires could hear their footsteps echoing off the concrete walls and flying out into the open air through the poorly covered windows.
Ezra was backed into a corner, holding a broken chunk of a two-by-four in front of him like a sword.
Two vampires stood in front of him, blocking his escape.
And yes, one of the vampires was flanked by two of the biggest wolves Philippe had ever seen.
One had a thick black coat that seemed to absorb any bits of stray light that happened into the room.
The other was a mix of white and gray. Just a tiny bit smaller than his companion, but he seemed to make up for it with viciousness.
The other two vampires they had sensed were nowhere in sight. Philippe vainly hoped that they were up on the third floor with Marcus and Winter, but he wasn’t going to stake his life on it. They needed to take care of the two they could see and get the fuck out of there.
“Who are you? Why are you threatening a member of the Arsenault clan?” Philippe demanded.
The vampire accompanied by the wolves glanced over his shoulder at Philippe, and a sneer curled his upper lip. The man was less than six feet tall with long brown hair and dark eyes. His body was lean and appeared as if it was made of hard muscle, but he didn’t move to attack.
“Kill him,” the strange vampire whispered.
Both wolves lowered slightly, massive bodies tensing for a heartbeat before launching themselves toward them. Philippe backpedaled and turned, raising his tire iron so he could swing it like a fucking club.
But the wolves ran right past him and threw themselves at Rafe. Philippe tried to attack the wolves, force them away from Rafe, but the vampire controlling the wolves came after him. There wasn’t time to assist Rafe or even help Ezra.
The vampire had no weapon in his hands as he came after Philippe. But his fingers were hooked like claws. Too-long nails were ready to gouge out his eyes and tear away his throat. Philippe took a cautious step away, trying not to think about Rafe or Ezra.
Rage burned hot in his veins. He was sick of not knowing who wanted his clan dead. Sick of waiting for the bodies of his clanmates to turn up. Erik, Sarah, and Piper deserved so much better. They might not have wanted to be vampires, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t live a quiet, peaceful life.
He was done.
The unknown vampire lunged toward him, his large hand swiping down, trying to rake his jagged nails across his face.
Philippe ducked out of the way of his hand and swung the tire iron.
The metal bar connected with his arm. A nasty cracking sound echoed above the shouts and growls. The vampire howled in pain.
Philippe’s attacker pressed his wounded arm protectively to his chest. The vampire was still wearing his sneer, but his face was pale with pain.
“Why are you attacking the Arsenaults?”
The man said nothing as he grabbed for Philippe again. Expecting the move, Philippe dodged. This time he swung the iron like a miniature bat, slamming it into his attacker’s knee.
His cry was nearly drowned out by an even louder shout as a body fell past the open area where there would eventually be windows and crashed into the ground below from the third floor.
Philippe looked down at the vampire holding his knee with his uninjured hand.
It was a safe guess that Marcus and Winter were taking care of the remaining two unknown vampires up on the third floor.
Philippe turned to the vampire who had been attempting to rip out his eyes when something large and heavy crashed into him.
The air exploded from his lungs as his back slammed into the hard ground.
The world went white when his head followed a half second later.
There was no chance to get reoriented. No chance to even put his guard up.
Pain slashed across his throat as Philippe tried to suck in air.
Fangs…fangs had sunk deep. He blinked his eyes open and he could finally see the massive vampire that had been attacking Ezra was now on his chest. Bracing his hands against the vampire’s shoulders, he tried to push him off.
He didn’t know where the damn tire iron had gone.
It had flown out of his hand when the vampire attacked.
Panic and pain pumped in equal measure through his veins.
The fucker was trying to drain him, make him weaker and easier to kill.
But he wasn’t dying like this. The sound of the wolves snarling and yelping still filled the air, their teeth still sinking into Rafe.
He didn’t know if Ezra was alive or dead.
Bracing his feet on the floor, he started to give a renewed push to get the asshole biting him off when he suddenly flew off.
Philippe blinked again and Ezra stood over him for a second, bloody and eyes glowing.
He gave a little nod, scooping up the missing tire iron and proceeded to beat the other vampire’s head in.
The bastard controlling the wolves gave a short, sharp whistle and ran toward the stairs.
With a low bark, the pair chased after him.
For a second, Philippe thought of following, but it took only a look at Ezra who was swaying where he stood to know he couldn’t leave.
Rafe wasn’t in much better shape. He was leaning heavily against the wall, covered in bites and blood.
Not that Philippe was in any shape to move.
He sat up and the world spun for a moment. Lifting one trembling hand to his throat, he felt the torn flesh. Blood flowed freely down his neck and soaked into his shirt. The pain was starting to ease, and the wound was undoubtedly closing, but so damn slowly.
“Philippe!” Ezra cried. He dropped the tire iron with a metallic clatter on the concrete and took several stumbling steps to his side. Falling to his knees, he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him sit up.
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” Philippe reassured him, though his voice was rough and tired. “Are you?”
Ezra nodded. His face was streaked with healing cuts and still damp blood. His T-shirt had been shredded as well. The zip-up hoodie he usually wore when he was out was missing completely.
“Philippe?” Rafe said. He didn’t sound much better than Philippe.
He looked up to find Rafe pushing away from the wall and taking a few unsteady steps toward Rafe. His clothes were absolutely shredded. Fangs had dug into tender flesh and ripped numerous holes. Blood covered him, while what skin he could see was a sickly white.
“Rafe—”
Whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted by the arrival of Marcus. The larger man grabbed his brother, pulling him in close so that Rafe could lean on him.
“Winter?” Rafe demanded immediately when the youngest Varik didn’t appear.
“He’s going after the one with the wolves,” Marcus said. From what Philippe could see, he didn’t look too bad off. There was a little blood and bruising, but he was already healing.
“The other two vampires we sensed?” Philippe asked.
Marcus shook his head. “Destroyed. They would not be taken alive.”
“Unless Ezra can identify them, we are relying on Winter getting to the truth when he finally gets to the bastard’s hiding place,” Rafe grumbled.
“This was a fucking disaster!” Ezra snarled.
Carefully placing Philippe’s arm across his shoulders, he helped Philippe to his feet, but his narrowed gaze didn’t leave Rafe’s face.
“We never should have trusted the Variks. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourselves.
You couldn’t save Piper. And you’re sure as fuck not going to save any of the rest of us. ”
“Ezra,” Philippe said on a sigh. He wished he could summon more energy, but the blood was still flowing out of him and he needed to feed again if he was going to heal properly. “These attacks aren’t their fault.”
“They might as well be, for as much good they’ve been,” his clanmate continued.
“It’s my fault. Not my brothers’,” Rafe said. He tried to push away from Marcus, but his brother refused to release him. “You’ve gotten stuck with the weakest of the Variks, and it’s not fair to your clan. From now on, only Marcus, Winter, and Bel will be looking into the threat to the Arsenaults.”
“No!” Philippe said, but Ezra was already talking over him.
“Fuck off! You’re all a waste of our time. If we continue to associate with you, we’re all dead.”
Marcus frowned and Philippe reluctantly met his assessing gaze. “I think it would be best if we all returned to our homes to heal. When Winter has news on the identity of Ezra’s attacker, we will be in contact.”
“Thank you,” Philippe murmured. He felt chastened, not by Marcus’s words but by his tone. Tempers, fear, and adrenaline were still running high. Philippe had allowed Ezra to say too much already, embarrassing his clan and hurting Rafe.
But Philippe also couldn’t help wondering if there was a seed of truth to it all.
Even with the Variks’ assistance for the past week, he felt no closer to learning who was killing off his clan.
He wasn’t necessarily sure it was the Variks’ fault.
He’d allowed himself to be distracted by Rafe.
His attention had been on his own pleasure, on basking in the freedom and laughter he’d found in the other vampire’s arms. But that also meant he wasn’t putting his own clan first.
“Philippe, you need to feed,” Rafe said softly. He tried to take a step closer to Philippe, but his brother was holding him at the same time as Ezra started to move him toward the stairs and away from the Variks.
“His clan will take care of him,” Ezra snarled.
Marcus ducked his head, placing his lips next to Rafe’s ear.
Philippe could easily guess that Marcus was reminding him that he was in no shape to donate any blood, but Philippe was touched by the sentiment all the same.
Philippe had never fed from Rafe, and a part of him longed for that intimacy, but not like this.
Not if it meant making his lover even weaker.
“We will talk soon,” Philippe murmured without looking at Marcus or Rafe.
He allowed Ezra to help him across the park to where he’d left the car.
The wound on his neck and the throbbing in his skull healed, but he was still lightheaded and starved.
Only a fresh infusion of blood would make him feel better.
There would be no hunting though, until he cleaned up a bit.
Jullien would have no problem supplying a quick bite to tide him over until he could pull himself together and get back on the street.
And then he’d have plenty of time to think about his relationship with Rafe and his clan.