The vampire with the blowtorch moved toward them with the slinky grace of a snake, and the others followed. “Who are you?”
“We’re his brothers.” Shade seized an overturned chair and smashed it against the wall. Wood shrapnel showered them all. Shade snagged one thick shard out of the air and gestured at the bloody demon with his makeshift stake. “And we’re only going to ask you once to clear out.”
The vampire laughed. “You’re risking your necks to rescue Wraith? Why?”
Eidolon had never had a problem with vampires… until now. “Did you miss the brother thing?” He swept up a broken chair leg and tested its weight in his palm. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to plunge the pointy end into the vampire’s heart right then and there.
“Do not interfere.” The lone female vamp eased up next to the big male. “This is a vampire matter—”
“He’s not a vampire,” Eidolon bit out, because by now, he’d had it with these assholes.
“As much as I hate to say it,” the male with the blowtorch said, “the whelp is a vampire. Leave us. This is your last warning.”
Frowning, Eidolon studied the body swinging from the ceiling. His dermoire was visible under the layers of caked and fresh blood, so this was definitely their brother, and he was definitely a demon. Eidolon had no idea what this madman was talking about, but really, it didn’t matter. They had come prepared for a battle, and in addition to his chair-leg stake, Eidolon had an arsenal of weapons stashed beneath his long wool coat.
No doubt these vamps had decades, if not centuries, of experience on Eidolon and Shade, but they weren’t completely helpless. Shade could scramble anyone’s insides with a touch, and Eidolon’s Justice Dealer background had given him a unique perspective on pain and injury.
Wraith’s low, drawn-out moan drifted through the factory like a ghost. Eidolon moved forward. These bastards were going to die.
Four vampires were dust. Two had run, and two were now hog-tied and propped against the factory wall. One of them was the asshole who had threatened them, but sitting there, bloody and missing a few teeth, he didn’t look so threatening anymore. Shade didn’t think so, anyway.
Shade kicked the male, who’d said he was Wraith’s uncle. “Why can’t we kill them?”
“Because Wraith should have that honor,” Eidolon said, and Shade supposed that was a good point.
Dropping their weapons, E and Shade crossed the room to Wraith. Shade pushed his brother’s hair, matted with blood, away from his face.
Oh, Gods. “E… oh, fuck.”
Eidolon’s face went ashen. “Those bastards.” His voice sounded as if it had been dredged up from the pits of hell. “They gouged out his eyes.”
And that was only a small part of what they’d done to him. Among other brutal acts, they’d opened him up from groin to sternum. In several places, broken bone jutted from between shredded muscle and tendon.
Shade bled fury through his pores. “Get him down,” he rasped. “Dear Gods, get him down.”
“Hey, boys.” Roag’s voice drifted through the building.
“Where have you been?” Shade snarled, as Eidolon began lowering Wraith’s shattered body from the ceiling, the chains that held him clanging.
Roag sauntered toward them, kicking through the piles of vampire dust, looking calmly at the two left alive. “You two handled things well enough.” He jerked his chin at Wraith. “Looks like you found our long-lost little brother. Not much left. Leave him. We’ll go find the whore I just balled.”
“Just keep an eye on the vamps,” Eidolon snapped, his patience with Roag nearly as frayed as Shade’s.
They lowered Wraith slowly and carefully. He didn’t move, and the only reason they knew he was alive was because Shade had channeled his gift into his brother and felt his heart beating weakly. His pulse had been too faint to feel with their fingers.
Wraith lay on the floor of the warehouse in a pool of his own blood. Eidolon’s dermoire glowed as he gripped Wraith’s wrist, but after a moment, he looked up and shook his head.
“He’s too far gone.”
Shade knew that, could feel it, could see it in the massive injuries that should have killed Wraith long before this. “We have to try. Maybe we can find a doctor who won’t ask questions.”
Roag shrugged. “We could nab one from a hospital and force him to help. Kill him later so he doesn’t talk. Want me to go get one?”
He made it sound like he was going to stop in at the corner grocer and pick up a loaf of bread.
“No human doctor can do what we can do.” Eidolon’s shoulders slumped. “But it doesn’t matter. He’s not going to make it another five minutes.”
Roag picked up the blowtorch. “Can we kill the vamps now?”
“Hell, yeah,” Shade spat.