Page 141 of The Prince's Curse

Julian nodded to him. “Remain here. Protect them. Shoshanna?—”

His tongue froze. Alistair would be distracted, perhaps even abandon his post if he knew.

“Shoshanna’s inside,” he said.

Alistair let out a low, ominous growl. “And that’s where she’ll stay.”

If he had been in his office, he might have missed it, but out beneath the stars in the crisp night air, he heard the single brisk syllable: Go.

Female voice, one he didn’t know. Then half a dozen sets of footsteps, fast and quiet. Dark shapes flitted through the trees, converging on the dark, glass-walled building at the center of the compound. In long, near-flying strides, he sprinted across the compound for the main building and shouted, “Paris! Dominic!” as he ran.

As the shapes crossed over the yard, golden lines ignited, but they were undeterred in their charge for the building. The Durendal were under attack.

If this had happened years ago, with Julian at Eduardo’s right hand, he would have instantly taken the Elder to shelter and safety. But this was not that time. And Julian Alcott was utterly sick of standing back.His fangs descended, dripping cold and sweet over his tongue. With a low growl, he sprang through the cool night air.

Ahead of him, a dark-clad figure smashed through the glass windows of the administrative building without stopping. Alarms shrieked inside.

Blood boiled in his veins as he ran for the building. Shouts of confusion rang out inside, and there was the distinct smell of fresh blood, all of it vampiric. The stink of Night Weaver magic hung thick in the air.

“We’re under attack!” he bellowed, praying that anyone in the building would hear him, in case their status was not immediately apparent.Alarms sounded, with a calm female voice warning the inhabitants that security had been breached and they should proceed to the nearest safe location.

With their uncertainty about Armina’s movements, the court had been encouraged to stay close. For the last few nights, those who lived on-site had been gathering in their renovated lounge. The building was dark, though it seemed a natural darkness from cut power rather than the thick, stifling magic of a Night Weaver.

The smell of wood smoke bit through the air, and he closed his eyes as he pressed through a cloud in the hall to get to the lounge.

The large room that had once been a cafeteria for the school’s students had been renovated into a proper lounge, largely under the direction of the Pierce sisters. The subdued celebrations of the evening had been disrupted, with chairs overturned and cocktails spilled.

Gemma, once a veravin and then a new vampire since the court’s split, lay on her side, her head turned the wrong way. Perhaps she’d make it. Not a concern for now.

Across the room, Danielle Pierce was tussling with a brawny male vampire. The smell in the air was familiar, but it made no sense, and so it took Julian another five seconds to realize that it was Sasha Morozov who had Danielle pinned against the wall with one arm twisted violently behind her back.

“Sasha!” he exclaimed. Yanking on the thread of the Covenant, he poured his will into the magic as he had only rarely done before. “Let her go.”

Sasha’s eyes were terrible and dark, filled with oily black instead of their usual vibrant red. His head cocked, and he roughly slammed Danielle against the wall with a bone-cracking blow, then let her fall to the floor.

Then he smiled and lunged for Julian, barreling them through the room and into a pile of furniture.

“Sasha, what are you doing?” he protested.Above the collar of his shirt, his brother’s skin was stained with red-black marks like the ones they’d seen before. “Stop this! Listen to me!” he shouted, his voice cracking. Was it an order or a desperate plea?

As an answer, Sasha rolled Julian off him and flung him up to the ceiling. With a blur of motion, Sasha drew a stake and moved to stab him as he fell. Twisting awkwardly through the air, Julian landed on his feet, grabbed Sasha’s arm and twisted it in a ripple of snapping joints. The other man roared in pain, but didn’t say a word. He simply grabbed a knife with his other hand and swiped at Julian’s face. He was forced to let go to cover his eyes, and Sasha bolted for Danielle.

She let out a soft groan, draped over Sasha’s shoulder, then pounded against his back. Julian gave chase, tripping over a fallen vampire as he burst into the hallway.

He saw a glint of familiar blonde hair a split second before something exploded at his feet. Blinding white flooded his vision, and he reeled. A biting sensation crawled across his skin as the scent of wood smoke invaded his senses. His muscles seized, threatening to bring him to his knees, but he let out a roar of fury and opened his tear-filled eyes. “You’ll have to do better than that, Kristina,” he bellowed.Her scent was unmistakable even amid the smoke.

There was no response, just the distant sound of something shattering. Then someone swore in French, a clipped shout. He felt the desperate tug of fear, a sensation he had so rarely felt from Paris.

Instinct pulled him along, his feet practically moving of their own accord. There in the lobby, amid the shattered glass and smoke, Paris lay on his belly with a thick wooden stake through his back. Swearing furiously, he writhed beneath Kristina Arensberg as she drove a dark metal stake into the back of his neck.

“Paris!” he bellowed. No!

A tall male vampire darted into Julian’s path, throwing a wild blow at him. Julian snarled and kicked out his knee, dropping the man to the floor. Before the man could make a sound, Julian grabbed his head and twisted it like a bottle cap, severing his spinal cord in a satisfying squelch.

Julian stepped past him, not flinching as Kristina drew a gun and fired at him. Wooden bullets ripped through his thigh. “Kristina, stop it,” he said, yanking on that Covenant bond.

But there was nothing there, no answer at the end of the line like when he’d pushed Paris or called to Scarlett.

There was no flicker of recognition in her eyes, not even as he used her name. And worse, just above the collar of her jacket, he saw the same markings on her neck that they’d seen on the woman who had brutally attacked Misha.

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