“You’re right.” Spade relaxed, but Bones would have known better. “This creep does need to be made an example of, but by me. If I can’t do this, then this line will be torn apart from the inside out. Thomas!”
I pushed Spade back and went to the edge of the stage. “Your challenge is accepted. If you want your freedom…” I cracked my knuckles and rolled my head on my shoulders. “Come and get it.”
Thomas walked toward the stage, one clean jump taking him onto the elevated platform. The rest of the vampires cleared a path, Mencheres cutting Spade’s further protest short with a wave of his hands. I almost smiled as I watched. This was the closest thing to therapy I could do.
“How do you want to die?” I asked, boring my gaze into his. “Because you will, you know. So pick your poison. Swords, knives, mallets, or skin on skin.”
Thomas was my height, and he had blue eyes and curling, brownish-red hair. All this I noticed while measuring his aura. He had the resonating power of a strong vampire. This wasn’t a teenager in undead years.
“I will kill you swiftly out of respect for my sire,” he answered with an Irish accent.
I gave a sharp bark of amusement. Combined with his short height and round cheeks, Thomas reminded me of the leprechaun from the cereal I ate as a kid. They’re after me Lucky Charms! I wanted to chant at him. Too bad he wasn’t wearing green, that would have made it perfect.
“If you had any respect for Bones, you wouldn’t be challenging for your freedom in the middle of a war,” I hissed instead. “As he would say, Very bad form.”
“It was his misfortune to be enthralled by a witch such as you,” he said as he selected a knife from the display of hastily arranged weapons. I didn’t bother to pick—I was wearing several on my belt. “You incited him to war based on an assault that never really happened!”
There was an eruption of curses from several of the vampires on the stage. Cold fury enveloped me. Trying to go for the low blows, was he? All right, then.
I let out a cry and hunched as if struck. Thomas sprinted forward in a flash of speed. When he was on me, his knife millimeters from a killing blow, I twisted to the side and jammed his own blade deep in his stomach. Soon more sharp silver found a home through his heart. It all happened in less than a second.
“You dumb fuck, guess you weren’t paying attention when Bones told you not to fall for a bluff.”
With my knife in his heart, Thomas froze like he’d been turned to ice. I leaned closer to almost whisper in his ear.
“Tell Bones hello for me,” I said, then twisted the blade in his heart. “And when he gets ahold of you, you’ll really be sorry.”
I gave Thomas’s slowly shriveling body a kick that sent him down into the seat where the orchestra would normally sit. Then I tucked my knife back into my belt, not even bothering to wipe the blood off.
There was commotion in the back. The sound of doors banging open. I glanced up just as Mencheres came forward and gripped my hand.
“Cat, I am very sorry, but I had no idea she would do this,” he grated. “You cannot attack her at a formal gathering, it’s against our laws. To do so would condemn us all.”
Those words chased away my momentary confusion over who the five vampires were who entered the theater. Late arrivals, had been my first thought. Then that fucking laugh told me otherwise even as Mencheres was still speaking. I knew that laugh. It branded me.
“Mencheres, my husband, aren’t you going to greet me?”
My fingers whitened on his, squeezing so hard, Mencheres’s bones fractured as fast as they could heal. Patra had spoken to him, but her eyes were all for me as she descended the aisle with serpentine grace.
Patra didn’t have the famous blunt Egyptian haircut so often shown in movies about her mother. No, she had threads of gold highlights in her long black hair. Her brows weren’t as thick as Hollywood suggested, either. Actually, they were slender. So was she. In fact, she was more athletic than voluptuous. Her skin was pale, but darker than mine. Almost honey-colored. Her nose was slightly longer than fashion favored, but there was no question about it, Patra was beautiful.
“Why?”
I spat the question to Mencheres while not taking my eyes from her. Everything in me was wound to the breaking point. Kill, was all my mind was capable of thinking.
“It’s our laws. As my wife, she can be present at any formal gathering, but she cannot attack us. Neither may we injure her, however. She seeks to provoke you to violence, but don’t give her such an easy victory.”
Oh, she’d provoked me to violence, all right. I wanted to rip her apart and wear her blood for clothing. My eyes flared, green rays of loathing shining on her.
“Hello, bitch.”
She laughed again in an insinuating, purring way. “So you’re the half-breed. Tell me.” A gleam appeared in her eyes. “Have you slept well recently?”
Some part of me was amazed I hadn’t combusted in rage. The other half heard me laugh in a bright, chipper tone that was so at odds with how I felt.