Hi,

Whether you're team Alexander or team Andy, whether you like Andy or not - you'll love Andy's POV in this chapter. Okay, well, at least I do! ;-) It was so much fun to write and I can't wait to hear what you're thinking. What the hell's going on in New York? Any ideas? Let me know :-)

Lara

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Chapter 39

ANDY

Marrok wasn't going to let any vampire into his den, least of all the head vamp. That was clear. I thought Alexander was going to invite him into one of his clubs and do business on his turf. I was wrong.

Negotiations – or whatever the hell they were having – were made in one of the head vampire's fancy cars. A black BMW X5 with sun protected, bulletproof glass and layers of armor plate under its outer skin. Barely recognizable as such. Custom made. It must have cost a fucking fortune.

Alexander was good. No one was going to hear or witness what he and the Fade pack's Alpha were saying.

The street had come back to life, now crawling with subtle motion. As if the faceless collective had been holding their breath and a sigh of relief had come with the absence of the two leaders. Some of Marrok's wolves were gathered around one side of the car, facing a congregation of what I assumed were Alexander's most trusted vamps on the other side.

The wolves moved in sync – together, never alone, the occasional flare of yellow brightening their eyes. Yeah, they were not comfortable with a group of vamps so close to the gates of their den. The way I saw it, this could blow up any minute.

It tore through the street like an acoustic, auratic whip.

I turned, blinked. For a moment I thought someone had fired a gun. But no, it wasn't a shot. Not a gun by any means. Shadows exploded with more obscurity. I went into second sight, limbs tensing, ready to move and shift gears into action.

The planes of reality slid away, unfolded like a deck of cards flattened on gray felt. Patches of light red and darkness where the vamps were grouped around the car. In second sight they looked like a set of chess figures waiting to be picked up and used for a checkmate.

I turned my attention to the other side. Something was approaching. Whatever was coming was dark. The weight and cold of the grave crept into the streets like palpable fog.

Vampires.

The sound of thudding on asphalt. A wolf dropped. Snarling and the sound of claws on asphalt.

Fuck. We were under attack!

I crouched low, scanning the street in second sight. Vampires slipped in like shadows, coming out of thin air. And they were only attacking the wolves, not Alexander's vamps.

I stilled. Had Alexander set the wolves up?

Someone, coming from the side. I turned and he was already there, pummeling into me with the force of a sledgehammer. Years of training kicked in. I turned, still in the air, back poised and ready for the fall. The contact with asphalt still knocked all the air out of my lungs.

No time to think. Move!

I got up, ready to do some damage. He slammed me back into the ground. For a moment I couldn't see. Blood on the tip of my tongue. I blinked and my vision sharpened painfully.

Vamp. Blond, short hair. Pale, brown eyes larger and darker than any human's would have been. The male vamp reeked of blood and unwashed clothes. Decay in the widest sense of the word.

His breath on my face like a dying whisper, fangs ready to strike. My hand shot up, palm flat on his chest. It was dangerous to burn someone up close and could go ten kinds of wrong.

I smiled, staring up at him. Right now I don't give a fuck, buddy.

The magic exploded, a chain reaction of molecules and power. Fire erupted in my palms and the vamp screamed in a breathless choke.

Keeping the flames as low as possible I rolled him off me. Watching someone burn wasn't something I enjoyed, but I had to make sure he was down.

Sound further down the street. Another mass of dark auratic essence crammed into a muscular back. A vamp with blood-red hair bound in a high ponytail. The color distracted from his face – the black eyes and high full cheeks. An Asian with that kind of hair was bound to stand out. The red color bled into the night like a leaking wound.

That didn't sound right. I blinked. Something was wrong with my vision. It felt off-kilter, as if someone had tipped a set of scales in my head in the wrong direction. I was probably bleeding.

I shook my head, focusing on a spot on the other side of the street. Slowly, the world stopped spinning.

Dammit, I could get myself killed, if I remained here like a sitting duck.

Adrenaline spiked. I got on all fours crouching low. Where was that red-haired vamp? The street was a battlefield of pale skin and fur. The wolves were in full action, fighting the vamps – some in human, others in animal form. Somehow the vamps had managed to separate the wolves from each other. Like this, the wolves were going to lose.

Where were Alexander's vamps? There were so many shadows, so much motion, I could barely make out who was who. I had to get closer, dammit!

I plunged into the street, slamming my burning palms into another vampire coming from the right. He snarled, fist going for my head. I ducked and upped the ante, fed power into the flames. The vampire imploded in a vortex of fire and smoke.

I moved on, turned. And then, among the roulette of shadows and figures blurring and vanishing, I saw him. A face like a mere apparition that I seemed to have conjured up on my own. Long hair that spilled over his back freely, a waterfall of black silk. Dark-colored pools of eyes. Pointed chin. I'd have known him anywhere.

Fabrice.

I stopped, then regained my pace and plunged right into the crowd, chasing after a vampire I once might have regarded as more than just an outlaw. Up until a few weeks ago he was a valuable informant. Dangerous, but helpful. A force of his own.

What the hell was he doing here?

Fists flew through the air, motion so quick they blurred and vanished into nothing. An arm swinging out, as if part of an obstacle court moving in fast-forward. Another vamp getting in my way.

If you get knocked out cold by a vamp you don't get up. It's a simple rule.

I turned and ducked with the motion, sucked in the adrenaline rush like a pro addict doing a line. The knot of tension in my shoulders relaxed, in sync with the flow of motion I could only achieve in that perfect state of combat.

I evaded again, ready to rush the vamp with my magic. He turned and for the first time I got a good look on his face. I stopped. A moment of indecision, a second of hesitation. A second can cost you your life with vamps. His punched fist swung out, blurring in front of my eyes.

I ducked, staring wide-eyed at the vamp – he was another familiar face. This one was definitely part of Fabrice's group of outlaws. He snarled at me, fangs down, eyes like a set of magnetized pools, pulling me forward and towards him. Power and heat pooled in my hands and fingers as I slammed my palms into the vamp's chest. He went down like a rag doll, dying with a voiceless snarl of rage.

I rolled my shoulders, scanning the night. The fighting was messy, the street a fucking tangle of auras and people. I caught a glimpse of Radulf in wolf form. The curly blondish fur was bloody around his muzzle. Somewhere further down a mountain of a wolf, which had to be Marrok. The Fade Pack was fighting right along Alexander's vamps and –

My eyes narrowed, focusing on the knot of people in the center of the street. Whatever Fabrice was doing, he hadn't come alone – he'd brought friends. Not only of the vampiric kind, mind you. He'd brought witches, half witches, shape shifters – and I suspected most of them anathema and rogue.

Fuck. How the hell was I going to tell friend from foe?

Fabrice was on the other side of the street, fangs buried in another vampire's neck. I cursed.

I moved on, racing towards him. Fabrice had been avoiding an open out war with Alexander for years. What was he doing now?

Had Fabrice really slipped underneath cracks in Alexander's iron control over New York City all these years? Had he been hiding in nooks and crannies even the head vamp hadn't been able to access? Having seen Alexander in action, the idea seemed insanely outrageous. Hadn't there always been – even though they were enemies – an unspoken, silent détente between Fabrice and the head vamp?

Fabrice was a nonconformist with the attitude of a spoiled kid that liked his playground raw and dirty. He was powerful enough to pose a threat to Alexander, but had never acted upon it in all those years I knew him. I always thought he simply didn't care. So what the hell was Fabrice doing now?

I vaulted over two shape shifters rolling on the street, crossed the last few feet between Fabrice and me, when he let go of the vamp and looked up.

"Fabrice." The word came out of my mouth – half warning, half threat.

The corners of his blood-smeared mouth lifted. His hair was a mess of tangles, matted with blood, the lapels of his jacket torn and dirty. The usual impeccable rogue vamp was a mess.

It was the look in his eyes that gave me pause. Goose bumps lifted over the back of my neck. Something was wrong here.

Motion from behind, a shape shifter racing through the crowd behind us. I lifted my hand and erected a wall of fire behind my back, cutting me and Fabrice off from the rest of the street.

I took a step towards him, hands lose at my sides. "What the fuck's going on Fabrice?"

Time moved forward, snuffed out like a candle flame in the eye of the storm. He was right there in front of me, his hand wrapped around my neck, dragging me forward right into the side street. I wrapped my hand around his arm, but lost my grip. He smashed me into the wall and my teeth clacked together, head spinning from the ricochet.

There was a coppery, sick taste in my mouth. He pushed my head back, one hand shifting away from my neck and towards my shoulder, exposing my neck.

No.

Adrenaline rushed, spurred me into action. I pushed my palms into his chest, felt the heat settle in the tips of my fingers. This could go wrong.

Death came inviting me to cross his doorstep, again. And again.

And I didn't give a fuck. I never did.

I called fire to me.

Fabrice buried his fangs in my neck, struck without restraint or the slightest hint of hesitation – like a crazed suicide attacker. Dammit, didn't he feel the heat of my flames?

The world receded, drew back and tightened like a soft noose around my neck. The drumbeat of my pulse changed into something else. Not the familiar off-key tunes of a long-forgotten Jazz piece I heard whenever he bit me in the past. This time was different. I was walking in a storm of ice. Biting cold that didn't allow enough room to breathe or live, less exist.

I peered through the veils he used to hide his secrets as I always did in the past. Sometimes, when Fabrice bit me, I got nothing. But sometimes I could glimpse something – things he did, or knew. Particularly if he got lost in a blood frenzy.

I stared and stared. A biting storm of ice that ruled out life or survival. A strange scent of ash and snow tickling my nose. I turned, spinning.

There.

I saw it in my peripheral vision. Like a splinter, a moment of a film caught in a half finished photograph. Fabrice had been in the Red Zone recently and he'd met some-

My vision went black for what might have been a second, or half a minute. It was over. I gasped for air, lurching forward. Cool air on my neck, my fingers touching the puncture marks weeping blood. No, not puncture marks. Fabrice had torn right into flesh.

A growl like the sound of a train plowing its way through snow-covered tracks. I looked up and knew why Fabrice had let go so suddenly. Another vamp had rushed Fabrice, holding him against the brick wall on the other side. Thick hair that trailed down his back. I caught a glimpse of his profile, recognized the broad, muscled shoulders. It was George, Alexander's enforcer.

Fabrice's eyes went from me to George. The corners of his mouth lifted.

A force, like the hit of a sonic boom, raced through the street and my vision split and shifted. For a moment I could see mere shades and hints of shapes.

Colors realigned. My vision sharpened. Fabrice was gone. So was George.

Dammit. What the fuck was that?