Lord of Embers(The Demon Queen Trials #2)(67)

Truth was, I’d stake them whether or not they left willingly. I couldn’t risk them turning me in.

I didn’t really have time for too many mental calculations, because the next thing I knew, Viking Vamp was lunging for Ciara again, fangs bared.

Fast—maybe faster than I should have—I pivoted around him, pointing my stake at his neck. I wasn’t supposed to move too quickly; humans were slow and sluggish. But the sight of him attacking Ciara sent my blood racing, and instinct kicked in.

I pressed the stake against his jugular. Then, I stood on my tiptoes, whispering into his ear. “I know a stake to the neck won’t kill you. But I will make it hurt when I jam it into your throat and wiggle it round.

Then I’ll kill you.”

Something sharp jabbed into my back, stopping me in my tracks. A quick glance over my shoulder told me that his friend, Visor Vamp, was holding a knife to my back.

“Drop the stake, darling!” said Visor Vamp.

Baleros’s

th ird

law

of

pow er:

A lw ays

let

you r

en emy

u n d erestimate

you .

I dropped the stake. I held up my hands as if I were surrendering, adding in a bit of trembling for good measure.

Then, when I felt the point of the knife retreat a little, I pivoted, slamming my elbow into his nose. I brought up my knee into his crotch —three brutal cracks to the groin. Vamps might not be alive, but they were still sensitive in the usual places. As he bent forward, I twisted his arm, forcing him to the ground. I snatched the knife from his hand at the same time. Then, I pointed it at his neck.

My lips curled in a mocking smile. “You still want to play?”

Now, at last, the vamps had the good sense to look scared. Apart from a warbling pop song, the room had gone silent again.

Viking Vamp held up his hands. “We’ll leave.”

I pulled the blade away from the other’s neck. As he straightened, he leaned in close, breathing in my ear. “The spell-slayers will be coming for you.”

At that, an icy tendril of dread coiled through my chest.

I watched as the two vamps skulked out of the bar.

I jammed my hand into the pocket of my miniskirt, and I pulled out a lollipop. Cherry, with gum in the center. Nothing like crystalized sugar to calm the nerves. I popped it in my mouth, staring at the door.

Ciara grinned. “Well geez Louise, this has been a heck of an evening.” She’d lived in the UK for at least ten years now and still hadn’t lost her thick American accent. “I haven’t been this excited since my Aunt Starlene drew a clown on my bedroom wall to ease my loneliness.”

“It’s not over.” There’d been something too cocky about those vamps, and their parting shot had told me everything I needed to know. I’d heard of some supernaturals acting as informants to the spell-slayers.

Supernatural narcs. Maybe that was how these two idiots had managed to stay alive, biting humans like Ciara with impunity. “Can you cover the bar while I’m out?”

“No problem.”

I had a pair of vampires to kill.

I snatched my stake off the floor, then my backpack. I never went anywhere without it. My bug-out bag had everything I might need in an emergency: a headlamp, a lighter with aerosolized deodorant for smelling nice or lighting things on fire, medical supplies, a water bottle, cherry lip gloss, fresh knickers, a shortwave radio, ropes, assorted lollipops, duct tape, and a shitload of knives. Never say I wasn’t prepared.

The door creaked as I pushed through it into the night air. A sooty bridge arched over the Spread Eagle, where pigeons made their home in the shadows. They cooed above me.

I tossed my lollipop in a rubbish bin. I didn’t like to kill things with sweets in my mouth.

Shivering a little in the misty air, I scanned the dark streets under the bridge until I saw movement. The two vamps were moving toward the Tower—the seat of spell-slayer power. I wouldn’t let them get any closer to its walls.

I trailed behind them over the damp, cobbled road, moving silently.

A light rain misted over my skin, curling my lavender hair.

Quickening my pace, I drew the hawthorn stakes from my hair, holding one in each hand like a pair of daggers. My pulse raced, heart quickening with the thrill of the hunt. I had them in my sights, and I wasn’t letting them get anywhere.

When I’d come up behind them, I crooned, “Hey, vamps.”

They whirled, and I slammed my stakes into their hearts. And just like that, the fight was over.

Baleros’s sixth law of pow er: Cru sh you r en emies mercilessly.

Their eyes went wide, but within seconds, they had crumbled to piles of ash on the pavement. Rain dampened their blackened remains.

I pulled my stakes from the ash and wiped them off with a tissue from my bag. As I did, I lifted my eyes to the medieval fortress before me. Once, it had simply been known as the Tower of London. Now, people called it the Institute. It was the one place the spell-slayers hadn’t outlawed magic. Even from here, I could see its walls and towers brimming with sorcery. Pale blue light streamed from the stony spires into the skies, and a moat of golden light surrounded the entire structure.

The spell-slayers claimed they’d outlawed magic to keep the peace.

They said that the apocalyptic wars twenty years ago—the ones between angels, fae, and demons—were forever at risk of erupting again. They said all supernaturals should remain segregated and locked in magical realms. Apparently, only the fae nobility were capable and worthy of remaining neutral among the human world. Everyone else was an animal, you see.