Page 158 of Dhampira

I bit my tongue against the urge to argue. As much as I wanted to hold my own, I was hobbled by the gauntlets. But Rasimir was somewhere outside. This was my chance to kill him. I might not get another.

The doors leading to the courtyard loomed ahead. As we approached, Lorcan slowed. “Let’s get a look at things before we—”

The doors flew open, and two werewolves in beast form leaped into the corridor and charged us. A witch stepped behind them and flung out her hands.

“Uci!” she cried.

Vander knocked me aside, and the magic passed us in a gust of wind.

Lorcan bared his fangs and rushed the witch. As she tried to spit another vor, he seized her and bit into her neck. Vander sent one of the werewolves flying with a sharp right hook, but the second wolf lunged for me.

Sir Gawain stepped between us, his sword ringing as he pulled it from his scabbard. The werewolf raked its claws across Gawain’s breastplate, but Gawain forced the beast back. Swinging his sword, he caught the wolf in the side of the neck. Blood spurted. The wolf collapsed, more blood gushing from the wound. Gawain stepped forward and brought down the sword, cleaving the werewolf’s head from its shoulders.

A loud grunt spun me around. Vander grappled with the first werewolf, his claws bared as he sliced at the beast’s neck. The werewolf snapped its fangs, but Vander staggered back and then roared, sending shockwaves through the air.

The werewolf flew backward. Vander charged forward. With one swipe of his claws, the wolf’s head rolled across the ground. Chest heaving, Vander sheathed his claws.

Gawain flicked blood from his sword and moved to my side as Vander charged to me and grabbed my arm.

“Come on,” he said, pulling me toward the doors. “We don’t want to get trapped fighting in this corridor.”

“What about Lorcan?” I cried, swinging around.

“I’m fine,” he said, tossing the witch’s limp body aside. Blood ran down his chin and soaked the front of his shirt. More blood dripped from the ends of his hair. With a toss of his head, he flicked it over his shoulder. Desire coursed through me.

“If I had hands,” I told him, “I’d grab you by the collar and kiss you right now.”

His eyes widened.

I jerked my head toward the doors. “Let’s go.”

We spilled into a courtyard, where a mix of knights and courtiers battled werewolves and witches. Fangs flashed and fur flew as blood spurted and swords arced through the air.

A werewolf chased a knight into the forest. Lord Seldare lay on his back in the center of the chaos, his chest ripped open and his sightless eyes staring at the Noctan sky. Blood splashed across several statues.

But there was no sign of Rasimir.

“Where is he?” I shouted, sticking close to Vander’s back.

He looked at me over his shoulder. “We’ll find him.”

A low horn pierced the air. The sound vibrated the ground, its mournful tone sending shivers down my arms. Around the courtyard, the knights and werewolves stopped fighting.

Lorcan and Vander stilled, too.

The horn sounded again. Low growls followed.

“What’s happening?” I whispered, straining for the direction of the sound.

The growls grew louder.

“There!” a knight shouted. Werewolves poured from the forest. They numbered in the hundreds. No, thousands. Too many to fight. Courtiers screamed. Knights threw down their swords and ran.

The werewolves sped toward the Drakhold in a wave, their paws kicking up dirt and leaves. The trees appeared to shiver as more and more appeared. It was a full-fledged assault. Not a battle but a war. They’d come to topple Rasimir. And I was part of Rasimir. If I strode forward and tried to bargain with them, they would trample me.

But retreat was a short-lived solution. The werewolves would shift and search the castle. If I tried to flee the Drakhold, they’d track me before I reached the Feyline.

Vander spun toward me. “Go to your chamber!”