Page 52 of Clash of Sin and Secret

“There.” I point to a rusted fire escape. “We can access the second floor at the far end of the building.”

Zane takes point, his vampire grace and speed making him practically invisible in the darkness. Scottie follows close behind, her movements silent as she scales the metal stairs. I bring up the rear, ready to protect her if anything should happen and threaten her safety.

When we get to the top, a window slides open under Zane’s insistence, and we slip inside. The warehouse floor spreads out below through gaps in the catwalk grating. I catch the conversation floating up from the workers.

“Catalogue number 147—enchanted compass that points to your heart’s desire,” calls out a male witch with frizzy red hair. “Get the replica in the right container this time, Ansel!”

A wiry male in all black bares his fangs. “Careful, spell-flinger. Remember who works for who here.”

Zane’s gaze narrows. “Fucking fanger mutt. All right, I count six of them in total. We get down there and block any chance these assholes get away.”

The three of us sneak off to get into position.

The male witch seems unaffected by the threat from the turned vamp. “Number 92—rings of shared consciousness. They let the wearers communicate telepathically. How are you coming with the replica, Phoebe?”

“Finished. Just packaging it now,” calls another witch standing at a worktable off to the side. She hands the replica rings to another mutt and points to where it needs to be repacked.

I frown at the ladder leading down to the main warehouse floor. It’s off to the side, but if any of the six of them turn, I’ll be in full view.

Oh well, there’s nothing to be done about that.

“Number 156—chalice of immortality. Supposedly grants eternal life to mortals who drink from it.”

Phoebe chuckles. “Some races are so gullible.”

The witch with the red hair flips the page of the item list. “I bet it draws the highest bids at the auction.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will.”

The red-headed witch drops his attention back to the manifest. “Catalogue number 21—a shadow cloak. Perfect invisibility, even from supernatural sight.”

I stop listening as I make it to the warehouse floor, and spot Huntley crouched behind some crates. I hunch forward and run off into the shadows to join him. When I take a knee beside him, he holds up four fingers and taps his vamp fang, then two fingers and wriggles his finger in the air.

I’m fairly certain the jazz hands represent the two witches. I nod my understanding.

Huntley’s head turns to where I know Zane and Scottie are hiding over by the rolling bay doors. His gaze goes blank and then he turns to me and holds out his hand with five fingers spread wide.

I nod once again—we take them down in five.

A quick scan of the workers and I choose my first target.

One of Huntley’s fingers drops. Then another.

Four. Three. Two.

Huntley’s fangs gleam in the dim light.

One.

I explode into action. I launch myself around the crate, pouncing on the nearest vampire. Scottie’s power blazes as she and Zane burst out of the shadows in a blur of lethal motion, while Huntley erupts from his hiding spot with a roar.

The fight is on.

My fist connects with a turned vampire’s jaw, the satisfying crunch of bone echoing through the warehouse. These newly turned are strong but sloppy—all blood-lust aggression, no technique. I use his momentum against him, pivoting to slam him into a stack of crates.

“Scottie, duck!”

She drops instantly at my warning as magical energy crackles overhead. The witch’s spell hits the wall behind her, leaving a scorched crater. Pride swells in my chest at how quickly she responds in combat situations.

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