It took one hell of a lot to make a vamp like Vincent go down.
She turned and ran—not out of the building, but to Paris. She raced into the back room. He was on his feet, straining against the remaining chains that held him. Still inside her circle. She grabbed her bag, scooped up a chunk of her scrying mirror and— “Voodoo queen!”
She looked back. Vincent was in the doorway. There was no sign of Garrison or of Lena. Vincent had blood dripping down his chin. He was blocking the only way out of that room.
There was only one place for her to go.
Annette leapt across the line of dirt. She threw her body right at Paris. His arms locked around her and held her tight.
Snarling, Vincent came after her. He tried to jump over that line and come at her, but he slammed into the invisible wall created by her magic.
He fell back on the floor, bellowing his rage.
“Sorry, asshole,” Annette panted, “but the dead can’t cross my line.”
His eyes promised pain as he rose to his feet. He stared at her with fury in his eyes and then…
He laughed.
A chill skated down her spine.
“I can’t cross and neither can he.” Vincent pointed at Paris. A Paris who held her locked in his arms. “How long do you think it will be before he loses his sanity again and goes right for your throat?”
Like she hadn’t already had the same fear.
“I was the one who ordered his poisoning. That’s what it is, you see. A poison. Jane’s blood…Aidan was a fool to give her his blood before her change. It just made the vamp power in her even stronger. So strong that now her blood can transform anyone, even a werewolf.”
“You were the one watching Jane, all along.”
He shrugged. “I hired a dumbass human to keep an eye on her…then to see how she was developing. I also used him to administer the poison to Paris there. After all, I needed a good test subject.”
Paris’s hold tightened on Annette.
“Paris has certainly proven that this little experiment is successful. Jane’s poison can transform werewolves.” He stepped closer to the line of dirt, but didn’t cross it. “Do you know what that means?”
She did. “The end…of the werewolves.” She clearly saw what he wanted, what he’d been aiming for all along.
Vincent nodded. “They’ll become vampires. Werewolves will cease to exist. The fucking beasts that destroyed my family…werewolves…they’ll be gone. Wiped from the earth never to appear again.”
She felt the hot stir of Paris’s breath along her neck.
“Unless you were born to be a vampire,” Vincent murmured. “You have very little control. Paris was fucked from the word go. A lost soul, ready to turn the streets red with blood. Soon, I’ll have an army just like him. Werewolf power and vamp bloodlust. We’re going to change the world. Humans will live in fear and finally, finally, it will be the hour of the vampire. We’ll dominate the way nature always intended.”
It wasn’t nature. It was his screwed up plan.
“It’s not going to happen,” she whispered even as Paris’s teeth raked over her throat. “Help will come. Jane and Aidan will stop—”
“I saw Aidan, right before I came here tonight. He’s the best part of this little plan, you see. He showed me what happens to an alpha. His beast is too strong to die during the transformation into a vamp…so the vamp and the beast fight inside of him, and from what I saw, that fight was ripping away the last of his humanity.” He smiled at her. “Newly turned vamps often feed on those closest to them. Family members. Friends. Lovers. I saw Aidan. He was on the edge. And Jane, lovesick fool that she is…she ran after him.” Vincent’s head tilted as he studied Annette. “He’ll try to make a meal of her, and Jane…well, she’ll have no choice but to fight back. She’ll kill him.” He turned away. “Just as Paris is about to kill you.”
She tried to slip from Paris’s hold, but he just held her tighter. “What if Aidan kills Jane? Aren’t you worried about that? Then you’ll lose your precious poison! This will all be over and—”
“I have Paris now. He has Jane’s blood mutation. He’ll spread the poison. I’ll give it to his whole pack. They will fall.” He kept walking. “I hope it doesn’t hurt you too much when he bites.”
She felt the prick of pain as Paris’s mouth opened wider on her.
Vincent paused at the door and looked back at her. His lips twisted. “Oh, who am I fucking kidding? I hope it hurts like a bitch, voodoo queen. I hope your last moments are agony and hell.”
Then he left her.
She shoved her hand down into her bag, her hand fisting over the wooden stake inside. She didn’t want to do this. Not to Paris. “Don’t,” she whispered.
Don’t make me end you. Please, don’t. Not to you. Not—