Page 39 of Fangs, Frost, and Folios
Beatrice should have stopped all this before they even got to the vault. She’d been avoiding gunfire, and it had happened anyway. Now Barnes was bleeding out and they were locked in a stone vault.
Giovanni would come. He would discover them.
But would he be too late for Barnes?
Twelve
Giovanni’s driver reached the edge of Hereford, and a wave of fear hit Giovanni in the throat.
His mate was in trouble.
“Drive faster!” he yelled at the man in the front seat. “There’s an emergency at Audley.”
“Yes, sir.” The man wasn’t just a chauffeur—he was one of Terry’s drivers, which meant that speed was not a problem.
Would that I were a wind vampire.
It wouldn’t be the first time Giovanni had rued the day he’d been sired to fire. Granted, being a water vampire in this situation would have been equally useless. He wished Tenzin or Benjamin was at his side.
The punch of adrenaline sent his system into overdrive. His fangs lengthened and his body heated up. He consciously tamped down the urge to ignite, knowing that setting his car on fire wouldn’t get him to Beatrice any faster.
What had gone wrong?
The car raced toward the manor house, crossing snowy lanes and narrow bridges, twisting and turning along the rural country roads.
Was it René? Had the Frenchman double-crossed them?
“Vehicle approaching from Audley,” the driver said. “Block the road?”
“How far are we?” Beatrice’s emotions had calmed down to a steady tension over the past few minutes before punching up into a near panic a moment ago.
“We’re nearing the property, sir. Nothing much would come down this road unless it was coming from Audley Manor.”
“Block it.”
It was too much of a coincidence for a car to be leaving Audley Manor in the middle of the night just as Beatrice’s emotions were this high.
He knew his mate could handle nearly anything thrown at her, but there were vulnerable humans at the manor and she would think of their safety before her own.
The car swerved to block the road, and at the same time, Giovanni yanked the door of the old Range Rover open, flinging himself into the night.
He flicked the lighter he kept in his pocket and brought a ball of blue fire to his palm, coaxing it larger and larger before he flung it at the hood of the oncoming vehicle—a dark-colored cargo van—which hit the brakes, but not before the fire engulfed the front bumper and spread up the windshield.
He urged the fire with his amnis, forcing it up and over the roof of the van and along the sides. He didn’t let it encroach into the car; he wanted the driver and occupants to get out.
“Help!” A young woman with dark hair escaped from the driver’s door and ran toward them, holding her arms out. “Help me, he’s a monster!”
She ran to the middle of the road and stopped, panting as she kept one eye on him and glanced back at the van. “Help me!”
Oh, she was clever. A good actress. A shame that she was lying through her pretty red lips. “Miss Lambert? Elise Lambert?”
She blinked tears from her eyes and sniffed. “Wh-who are you?” She looked at the driver, who’d left the vehicle and was standing at the ready, his hand ready to draw a weapon. “What’s going on? Can you call the police?”
“I don’t think you want us to call the police.” Giovanni glanced at the van where flames were flickering with a low blue light. “Do you, Miss Lambert?”
“Do I know you?” She turned to Terry’s driver. “I’m so confused. What’s going on?”
“She been touched by the amnis, sir?”
