Three…
Tate unzipped his jeans, and he wasn’t wearing any underwear. It was all I could do not to jerk back and give the charade away. Yeah, this was way further than I’d ever anticipated things would go.
Two…
Three things happened at once. I whipped my arm around to send the blades sailing; Kratas fired, the bullet striking me in the side instead of the heart because of Tate’s body in front of mine; and the roof ripped right off the limo.
There was a stunned second when I saw Bones before he snatched me out of the car. In the next instant, Spade and Ian descended like bats from hell onto the now-convertible limo while Tick Tock and Dave slammed into it from the highway.
The few cars on the road screeched madly around the careening vehicle. All of this I observed from my new viewpoint of fifty feet in the air, gripped in the crook of Bones’s arm. I didn’t have time to wonder about what we’d do with all the traffic when he abruptly swooped back down.
“Let’s get this piece of rot off the road,” he barked.
Bones, Spade, and Ian each grasped an edge of the limo and then propelled upward. The car lifted off the asphalt like it had grown wings. There was still scuffling going on in the interior of the limo, but it had a different sound to it now. More like muffled screams cut off before completion.
A few miles away in the distance, I saw a twin engine aircraft, propellers starting up. That had to be Hykso, and if we could see him, he could see us.
Bones growled and aimed straight for it, his emerald gaze lighting the night.
“Think they’ll make it off the ground, Crispin?” Ian sang out, streamlining his body while handling his part of the limo.
“Not a bloody chance,” Bones snarled back.
“We can take them on ourselves. Tend to Cat, she’s been shot,” Spade called out without turning his head.
“Don’t even think about it,” I snapped. “Flesh wound, keep going.”
“We are.”
I didn’t need mind-reading skills to know Bones was pissed, but flying Superman style while toting an automobile and chasing a plane was not conducive for a chat.
The aircraft started to taxi, picking up speed. So did we, with a burst of nosferatu energy that crackled the air with invisible currents. I shut my eyes, not out of fear, but because the wind nearly blinded me. Through slits I saw the plane start to take off. We were still about fifty yards away.
“Now,” Bones commanded, and dropped me.
A blur snatched me in midair before I hit the ground. My stupefied gaze took in the sight of bodies ejecting from the car as Bones flung it at the small plane. There was an explosion, its bright flash interrupted by the vampire setting me safely on the ground.
“Stay here,” Ian muttered even as he darted away toward the wreckage. I ignored him, lurching in the same direction, but oddly shivering. Why did I feel this cold when the fire was so close?
Flaming forms crawled out of the remains of the plane and were promptly tackled. Through the wavering fire, people who were familiar to me almost appeared demonic as they hacked their way through the scrambling vampires. In minutes it was over, and somehow I was on the grass without noticing I’d fallen. That gunshot must have been more serious than I realized.
Bones came out of the orange haze. He had blood and soot on him, and his shirt was patchy in places. He knelt by me.
“This will hurt, Kitten, but it’s quicker.”
The warning made my eyes widen as he held me down. He took out a knife and gouged it into my side. I couldn’t help but scream as his fingers followed, feeling around for the bullet. After a moment that seemed to last infinitely longer, Bones drew it out, then cut his palm and placed it over the site, healing the larger wound he’d just made. Then Bones sliced his wrist and pressed it to my mouth. I took a deep swallow of his blood, closing my eyes as the pain lost its grip.
My side tingled as it knit back together. It occurred to me that I must have been unconscious when Bones did this after Max shot me. Getting my throat torn open really had numbed me to everything else that day.
Bones drew his shirt over his head. “Bit torn in places, but it’ll cover your arse,” he said, handing it to me. “’Fraid your trousers are incinerated back in the car.”
There were many things in his gaze, and reproach was one of them. Fumbling, I pulled his shirt on like it was a skirt. “Bones, I—”
“Later,” he cut me off. “Got a few matters to settle first.”
“Crispin.”
Ian strode forward, dragging someone by the back of his neck. He shook the person like a rag doll and flung him near our feet.