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* * *
Marcus sipped a fine brandy, one of his favorite drinks, more than even Scotch. He sat alone not far from the bar. The warriors were out on the patio, smoking, telling jokes, the usual male-bonding bullshit. He didn’t belong with them. Besides, sitting by himself and sipping the rich fortified wine suited his current temper.
He watched the Liaison Officer dancing with Luken. The warrior was really into her, the bastard.
Marcus uncurled his fingers for the hundredth time from around the glass. He had a habit of crushing tumblers, among other glass things.
He should have left the same time Endelle retreated to her cave. Instead he hung around. His instincts were firing off missiles right now and he couldn’t ignore them. His need to protect Havily kept him pinned to the bar stool, watching her in her short dress, which grew even shorter with Luken’s arm around her waist as he moved her into a couple of turns.
He was still hard as a rock and he couldn’t tear his gaze from the back of her legs, the tops of her thighs, hoping for a glimpse of her ass, the thought of which forced him to sit well forward. And all he could smell was a powerful drift of honeysuckle. Goddammit.
He took another sip. He forced himself to look away. His gaze landed on Alison and Kerrick. They’d stopped dancing and she was looking around the rotunda with a frown between her brows.
A frisson traveled down his spine. He didn’t wait to second-guess what he felt. With a wave of his hand, he changed from tunic to flight gear. He drew his sword into his hand.
He wasn’t alone.
The blur around each of the warriors indicated the same call to arms had been registered in lifted hairs on neck and arms.
“Central just called,” Thorne shouted. “We’ve got incoming.”
Marcus crossed to Havily in a few brisk strides. With Luken on the other side, they’d work to keep her safe.
“Oh, shit,” squeaked from her usually prim mouth.
“Don’t move away from either of us,” he cried.
“How are they going to get through Endelle’s security?”
“There’s only one way. Greaves must be here.”
“An attack on the palace?” Luken shouted. “This is so f**king illegal.”
“When did the Commander ever give a shit about that?” Marcus gripped his sword in both hands, his instincts clanging like a fire alarm. His back muscles thickened, his wing-locks hummed.
Death vamps shimmered into the rotunda, directly to the space in which the warriors had just geared up. Marcus swept his gaze over the group. Goddammit, there were too f**king many. Twenty, twenty-one. He stopped counting.
“Mounting,” he cried. His wings flew through his wing-locks, as did Luken’s, one more layer of protection for Havily.
The first attack came as three launched near him, rocketing high into the air, flying into the enormous height of the rotunda, trying to draw him away. He had never felt so focused in his life with his woman at his back and her existence depending on how deftly he and Luken maneuvered through the next few minutes.
“How we doin’?” he cried.
Luken responded, “I got four and they’re goin’ down.”
“Good. Keep Havily between us. Havily, don’t even think of folding. They’ll follow you.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good. That’s good.” He heard Luken grunt and his sword ring as he engaged his pretty-boys.
Marcus’s own trio gave up the airspace but drew their wings back to close-mount and fired toward him like missiles. He took a deep breath, lowered his shoulders, dipped his chin. “Here they come.”
He plucked the dagger from his breastpiece and let it fly. It struck home, straight into the heart of the vamp to the left. At almost the same time, his sword met metal and he moved at preternatural speed to fend off each pair of thrusts again and again. The whole time he could sense Havily moving with him, completely in sync. He knew exactly where she was and only as he severed a head, leaving him but one death vamp to contend with, did he realize she was in his mind delivering a warning, very quietly.
Three on your left, she sent as a new wave of enemies flew in through the open walls. So yeah, the security system was down and there was only one ascender who could have done it. Greaves. Shit.
He also heard Havily on the phone. “Jeannie, we need cleanup. Is there anything you can do?” Pause. “There have to be at least two dozen bad guys here. But there’s … blood and other things all over the floor.”
In small increments, lights flashed and death vamp debris got cleaned up, thank you, God.
Havily, Marcus sent, you’ve got one helluva cool head on your shoulders.
Just keep fighting, Warrior.
More death vamps flew in, so this was a full-blown attack. Fortunately, Greaves couldn’t enter the battle himself. From what Medichi had told him, COPASS had only a handful of rules that they enforced the hell out of. Endelle and Greaves staying out of the fray happened to be, thank God, one of those rules.
* * *
Alison couldn’t believe her ascension celebration had turned into a full-on battle. She was tempted to bring her sword into her hand and engage but the combat was ridiculously close and there were so many death vamps. She didn’t have this kind of experience at all. It would be far too easy to accidentally wound one of the warriors.
She stuck close to Kerrick. He’d told her to stay at his back and had called Medichi over to guard her on the other side. Her heart beat heavily. She had never seen such a flurry of wings, and every kill meant that a terrible spray of blood landed … everywhere.
Havily’s voice rang out. “Major cleanup coming.”
A light flashed bright, like the one at the medical complex, blinding her for a second. Her stomach boiled as bodies, feathers, and body parts disappeared. She felt light-headed, especially since the clash of metal sounded in her ears. Between Medichi and Kerrick, the fighting was fast, furious, and deadly.
She measured the movements of both warriors and stayed within a couple of yards of each of them. Medichi didn’t mount his wings, but Kerrick’s white feathers flurried around her, sometimes stinging, sometimes soft flutters.
Over the next few minutes the death vamps kept coming. But eventually the numbers began to diminish and it seemed clear to Alison that the attack would soon be over—until she saw blurred movement near Luken, Havily, and Marcus.
A different kind of attack.
The blur solidified. Darian the Commander stood near them. He didn’t engage but watched her, a satisfied smile curving his lips. He must have created an intricate powerful mist to disguise his arrival, which prevented those nearest him from detecting his presence. However, she had no problem seeing through all the cobweb-like filaments that crisscrossed his face and body
