Chapter 55
Chapter fifty-five
Delilah
“Stay here,” Archer barked, because of course he did.
At my scowl he sighed, then held out his hand.
“Fine,” he agreed reluctantly, raising his voice to be heard over the still-thumping music. “But stay by my side and do as I say.”
We exited the alcove, the darkened dance floor crowded with half-naked vampires, their faces and chests smeared in blood, their glistening skin once alluring but now macabre in the dim, stuttering light.
What had been a sensual crush of bodies moments ago—hips grinding, mouths locked, laughter sharp with hunger—had gone eerily off-beat.
The music still pounded, but no one moved to it.
The rhythm, once intoxicating, now thrummed like a pulse dragged too fast, too hard, until it set every nerve on edge.
Their voices rumbled in a low murmur, not the throaty moans of pleasure I’d heard earlier, but guttural, restless growls, feral and uncertain.
Eyes that had burned bright with lust flicked toward the shadows, searching, narrowing.
Some licked blood from their lips as if savoring it for courage, while others dug their nails into the flesh of their arms and chests, nervous habits masquerading as indulgence.
The room felt thick, humid with sweat and iron, but beneath it all was a different scent threading in now—fear, rich and ripe.
All eyes were fixed on the dais where Genevieve stood, her narrowed gaze slicing over the crowd, regal and dangerous, hunting for whoever dared disrupt her revelry.
I looked to the balcony where Mal and Corson stood, their eyes already locked on Archer.
With a head nod and some silent communication I didn’t catch, both of them split, each going a different direction, diving into the fray with steel and fists.
Behind them, a dazed-looking Vine stumbled out of one of the rooms, likely drawn by the commotion.
His grin was lazy, his chest scratched raw by nail marks, pants unbuttoned like he’d wandered straight out of someone else’s arms. When he saw me he winked, then sauntered down the stairs to join us in the frantic crowd, the flicker of amusement on his face at sharp odds with the atmosphere curdling around us.
“Hell of a party, boss,” Vine offered, and I snorted at his causal tone. “You know I love me a rowdy shindig.”
“It’s about to get a whole lot rowdier.” Archer’s words were cryptic, sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine.
Within my chest, my magic stirred, the bright light I had only recently discovered pulsing in response to the threat that surrounded us.
Pandora had settled, but only marginally, her tiny body practically vibrating in the pouch at my waist.
“Silence!” Genevieve shouted, her voice surprisingly powerful for a person of her diminutive stature.
Someone finally cut off the music, the room falling strangely silent, everyone collectively holding their breath, watching.
Waiting.
And then it happened.
From outside the mansion, a howl rang out, followed by another and another, until the walls practically shook with the calls of voracious hell hounds.
Where had they come from?
And what were they looking for?
“Guards!” Shouted Genevieve, the word ringing out over the howls.
“Where are my guards?” Vampires began running through the mansion, their human entertainment abandoned as they moved to the exits, looking as though they were readying for battle.
Behind Genevieve, three of the largest vampires gathered, their pale eyes surveying the room with suspicion.
As the crowd around the dais cleared, I finally spotted Mex, and my heart sank.
She was still seated on the low couch where we’d last seen her, but now she had a massive vampire behind her, his hand latched in her hair as he held a wicked-looking knife to her throat.
“Archer!” I shouted, tugging on his hand, drawing his attention to the captive demon. “We have to help her!”
“Mex can look after herself,” he growled, his ridiculously strong form not moved by my pulling in the slightest. “You are my priority. We have to get the diamond and get the Hell out of here.”
“We’re not leaving her, Archer. She’s our friend,” I exclaimed, rounding on him.
“She is a member of your brotherhood who stepped up to help us when we needed it.” I could see the indecision warring on his face, his need to protect me contrasting against his loyalty to the Umbra Fratrum.
“She’s only here because we pushed our way into her life,” I added, trying one more time to appeal to the caring heart I now knew Archer had within him. “We can’t abandon her.”
“She’s got a point, boss,” Vine said, a teasing grin on his face; he was having far too much fun considering the chaos around us.
“Fine!” Archer finally agreed with a growl. “But know that if it comes down to it, I will choose you, witch, no matter the price.”
His words warmed me, even as I felt bad for Mex.
Thinking back to the Hullabaloo Club, I recalled that she’d had several other demons around her, but nothing like the team that Archer had built.
I hadn’t considered it at the time, but now I wondered why it appeared as though she was alone.
I had assumed that the Umbra Fratrum worked similarly in all its branches—loyal and committed groups of demons working together as a team—but perhaps I had been wrong.
Because it appeared that Mex only had us.
Shoving our way through the crowd, Archer led us to the dais, turning his angry glare on Genevieve.
“What is the meaning of this?” he snarled, pointing his free hand at Mex, who now had a small trickle of blood rolling down her throat. “Is this what Vampire hospitality has come to? You shame your Nest, Genevieve.”
“Hospitality is for guests of honor,” she replied, her eyes flashing and her fangs prominent. “You bring trouble to my door and act surprised when we defend our home.”
“We didn’t mean to,” I pleaded, earning a frustrated huff from Archer. He glared at me, warning me to stay quiet, but I only lifted my chin defiantly. “We came with the best of intentions.”
“Then explain why there is small army of witches and their hounds on my peaceful streets!” she fired back, sounding pained. “Filthy witches, betraying their bloodline and siding with demons. You cannot be trusted!” Genevieve’s beautiful face contorted into a mask of disgust.
“You would break the treaty with the Umbra Fratrum?” Mex hissed out, her teeth bared even as she fought not to move. “You swore an oath, bloodsucker!”
“Don’t you quote the treaty at me, demon.
I have lived within your rules, holding up my end of the bargain.
You are the one who has broken the accord, mes amis.
” She said the words with venom, her accent stronger as her anger and panic rose.
The Vampire Queen who had once found us entertaining now saw nothing but a threat to her Nest.
“Those demons aren’t with us.” Archer grit out, losing his own patience. “We’ve tangled with them before, and we are doing our best to end them.”
“Liar!” she hissed, and the vampire holding Mex yanked a little harder on her hair. “You came here to ruin me when all we wanted was peace.”
I blinked, surprised at the sincerity in her words; Genevieve seemed like she truly wanted to live quietly.
Well, as quiet as nightly orgies could be, anyway.
“We mean you no harm,” Archer insisted again. “We only came to talk about the diamond.”
“What?” she replied bluntly, obviously confused.
“I had hoped to enter into negotiations with you, but we have run out of time.” Archer sighed ruefully. “We were recently informed that a man by the name of Jean-Francois Baptiste gifted you a necklace. We need it.”
Genevieve’s beautiful face contorted into a grotesque mask of hatred, her fangs visible behind her curled lip.
“You dare to come here, to my home—to my Nest—and make demands of me?” Rising to her full height, she brought one hand up to stroke the diamond at her throat, almost subconsciously. “You, who have caused nothing but chaos, expect me to just give you the gift from my beloved Sweet Baptiste?”
“If he was so beloved, why didn’t you turn him?” Mex asked, her words strained as she tried to prevent any more damage to her throat.
Genevieve pouted, a look of guilt briefly overtaking her features. “Not every love is meant to be forever.”
“Or you were just toying with him,” Vine put in. “Not very nice, Genevieve, playing with a man’s heart like that.”
“Humans are fickle creatures,” she defended. “How do you know he wasn’t toying with me?”
“Because his soul still pines for you,” I said sadly. “Even in the depths of Hell, that man thinks only of you, his lost love.”
For a moment, Genevieve’s face softened, giving away the lie that she hadn’t cared for Baptiste at all. But that tender expression was quickly replaced with fury once more.
“Enough of this. The diamond is mine. I certainly wouldn’t consider giving it to a pack of tra?tres like yourselves.”
“It doesn’t belong to you, Dubois,” Archer growled, and I noticed several of the Vampires move toward Genevieve, their shoulders hunched as they readied for a fight. “It was given to you by a man who had no right. It wasn’t his to give.”
Beside me, Vine opened his Rip, reaching inside and pulling out several sharp wooden stakes.
“I knew these would come in handy,” he chuckled, flipping one over in his hand and getting a good grip."
“There has to be a way we can talk about this!” I insisted, realizing that we were sorely outnumbered; vampires inside, hell hounds outside, and only the six of us against them all.
“I’m afraid the time for talk has passed,” Genevieve said. Turning, she gathered the alligator, Bijou, off the sofa and handed it off to one of her attendants before she swanned toward the ballroom’s exit. “I’m done with them,” she called casually over her shoulder. “Qu'on leur coupe la tête!”
The vampire holding Mex lunged, yanking her head back to expose her throat further.
He might have been supernaturally fast, but Vine was faster.
Before I could even blink, Vine had thrown his stake, sinking it into the exposed chest of the man holding Mex. He hissed, his eyes wide with shock, before his already pale skin began to take on a sickly gray cast, cheeks hollowing as his body desiccated before my very eyes.
His companions all stared, their mouths slack, as they took in his rapidly decaying body, and I wondered how often it was that someone got the better of them.
“Fucking took you long enough,” Mex grumbled, stepping over the dusty corpse of her captor and moving to stand beside Vine.
Reaching down, she picked up the knife that had just been held to her throat, wiping her own blood off with the hem of her skirt before she gripped it tightly and looked at the circle of angry vampires that surrounded us.
“I don’t suppose you have a plan for getting out of here, Archer?
One of your fancy shadow gates, perhaps? ”
“We can’t leave without that diamond,” he admitted, sounding exceedingly pissed off as he stared at the hallway that Genevieve had just disappeared down.
“Well, what’s a couple dozen vampires anyway?
” Mex shrugged, turning to face the snarling mass of angry courtesans.
Holding out her free hand, she gestured to Vine until he plunked a stake into her waiting palm.
She hefted it, the knife glinting dully in the other as she offered the vampires a dangerous smile. “Alright. Who’s first?”
No one answered. The ballroom was silent except for the hiss of shallow breathing and my heart thudding in my ears. The chandeliers above swayed with ghostly creaks, their crystals casting fractured glimmers across faces now twisted with uncertainty.
That silence was suffocating, thick with unspent violence. Every flicker of movement—fangs clicking, claws flexing—made the tension crawl higher.
Beneath it all, another sound threaded through, so low it was almost imagined: a deep, rumbling growl.
The tall windows along the ballroom wall rattled in their frames. Every vampire’s head snapped toward them at once. A second shudder cracked one of the panes, spiderwebbing the glass. The smell of sulfur rolled in, acrid and undeniable, burning the back of my throat.
The third impact shattered the window entirely, shards exploding inward as something massive and snarling launched into the room.
A hell hound.