revealed arguing, the voices the same ones Z had heard by the Hudson the night before. Evidently the pair of slayers were still oil-and-watering it.
Three, two . . . oneâ
Rhage kicked the door to the house open, bootlicking the bitch so hard his shitkicker left a dent in the metal panel.
The two lessers in the hall swung around, and Z didnât give them a chance to respond. Leading with his SIGâs muzzle, he popped both right in the chest, the bullets sending the pair pinwheeling backward.
Rhage went on dagger duty, leaping forward, stabbing first one and then the other. As the flashes of white light and the sharp sounds faded, the brother leaped to his feet and froze like a boulder.
Neither Z nor Rhage moved. Using their senses, they sifted through the houseâs silence, searching for anything that suggested further inhabitation.
The moan that bubbled up into all the quiet came from the back, and Z walked swiftly toward the sound, muzzle first. In the kitchen the cellar door was open, and he dematerialized to the left of it. A quick head jab and he took a look-see down the stairs. A bald lightbulb hung from a red-and-black wire at the bottom, but the pool of light showed nothing but stained floorboards.
Z willed the light off down below and Rhage provided cover from upstairs as Z bypassed the rickety steps and dematerialized into the darkness.
On the lower level he smelled fresh blood and heard the staccato click of rattling teeth from the left.
He willed the cellar light back on . . . and lost his breath.
A male civilian vampire was tied by the arms and legs to a table. He was naked and covered with bruises, and instead of looking at Z, he squeezed his eyes shut, as if he couldnât bear to know what was coming at him.
For a moment Z couldnât move. It was his own nightmare in living color, and reality blurred such that he wasnât sure whether he was the one tied down or the guy who was coming to the rescue.
âZ?â Rhage said from above. â Anything there?â
Z snapped to attention and cleared his throat. âIâm on it.â
As he approached the civilian, he said softly in the Old Language, âBe of ease.â
The vampireâs eyes flipped open and his head jerked up on his spine. There was a look of disbelief, then astonishment.
âBe of ease.â Z double-checked the corners of the basement, his eyesight penetrating the shadows, seeking signs of a security system. All he saw was a lot of concrete walls and wooden flooring, along with old piping and wiring snaking around the ceiling. No electric eyes or sparkling new power supplies.
They were alone and unsupervised, but God only knew for how long. âRhage, still clear?â he shouted up the stairwell.
âClear!â
âOne civilian.â Z assessed the maleâs body. Heâd been beaten, and though he didnât seem to have any open wounds, there was no telling whether he could dematerialize. âCall the boys in case we need transport.â
âAlready have.â
Z took a step forwardâ
The floor broke apart beneath his feet, splintering right out from under him.
As gravity grabbed him hard with greedy hands and he went into a free fall, all he could think about was Bella. Depending on what lay at the bottom, this could beâ
He landed on something that shattered on impact, shards of whatever it was slicing at his leathers and his hands before bouncing up to cut into his face and neck. He kept hold of his gun because heâd been trained to, and because the jolt of pain tightened him up from head to foot.
It took some deep breathing before he could reboot his brain and try to assess any damage.
As he sat up slowly, the chiming sound of bits of glass falling to a stone floor echoed around him. In the circle of light that fell from the cellar above, he saw that he was sitting in the midst of a brilliant shimmer of crystals. . . .
Heâd fallen on a