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As I looked from face to face, I saw only one commonality—an unquestioning loyalty. Roman’s children were his, and his alone, and they would live or die for him depending on his whim.
The vamps fel into two lines behind us, and we headed toward the club. Security saw us—the two vamps guarding the door suddenly stood and one disappeared inside. We weren’t making a secret entrance, that was for sure.
Roman pul ed out a pair of glasses like those of his children and slid them on. “I believe we are ready.”
We paused, waiting for Roman to give the order. I was used to leading the charge when it came to fights, but I gave over to him. This was his battle—more so than mine—and it would affect every vampire in the region and would cement Roman’s authority.
Roman glanced around. “Remember, guests of the club wil be al owed to leave. If they side with Terrance, they are fair game. No mortal is to be harmed unless you have no recourse. Stun them, charm them, knock them out, but do not kil them and absolutely no drinking from anybody! We’re here to make a statement, not have a party. Understood?”
As one voice they answered. “Understood, Liege! ”
“Forward—and do not flinch.”
As Roman and I led the columns of vampires toward the building, people began spil ing out of it, running every which way. Half-dressed, some drunk, they were making sure they were out of the way. Word of our coming had spread. Relieved, I steeled myself for battle. It was good that my sisters weren’t with me, after al . Vampire against vampire caused some of the bloodiest battles around.
In the parking lot, the snow had turned to slush from the number of cars driving through, and the ridiculous image of Terrance and Roman lobbing snowbal s at one another raced through my mind. I tried to brush it away, but it kept teasing me until I let out a short laugh. Roman glanced at me. I shrugged, pressing my lips together. I wasn’t even going to bother trying to explain.
The crimson doors slammed open as we approached, and four burly vampires stepped out to block the way.
Roman straightened his shoulders, removed his glasses, and unleashed his ful glamour. He was power incarnate, glorious and godlike. His aura preceded him, weaving a spel as he stood, magnetic and al uring, commanding countless armies. He stared at the vampires standing in his way, his stature shouldering the mil ennia he’d seen. I fel under his gaze, caught in the hoarfrost and silver waves that crashed against his face.
“On behalf of the Throne of Blood, I, Roman, son of Blood Wyne, Queen of the Crimson Veil, order you to stand back and let us enter unimpeded. I give you one chance to obey.”
Two of the vampires immediately dropped to their knees, crouching as they scuttled away from the door. The other two looked terrified, but held their posts. Roman put his glasses back on and started walking toward them, and I fel into place beside him. His children had our backs.
As we came to the door, the two vamps who had not deserted their posts quivered as the son of Blood Wyne moved within arm’s reach. Roman gazed at them but did not issue another warning.
Instead, he reached out with one hand and pressed it against the nearest guard’s chest. The vampire did not move, so petrified was the look on his face.
Roman smiled, faintly, and then quick as lightning he was holding the man’s heart in his hand and the vampire stared down at his gaping chest, as if surprised to find he was no longer whole, and then a roil of smoke rose up and he turned to dust, as did the heart in Roman’s hand. The guard’s partner took one look at us and ran.
“Let him go,” Roman said. “It’s time for bigger game.”
And we entered the Fangtabula, ready to raise hel .
CHAPTER 24
When we broke through the doors, al the memories of the last time we’d been here came flooding back. The red and black and silver color scheme, the gigantic chamber with a staircase descending to the main floor, tiled in a checkerboard of black and white. The twenty-foot ceiling stil stretched overhead, an awesome vista, but the cloth panels that had draped down to produce a labyrinth of bil owing wal s were gone.
Two stairwel s led to an upper level on either side of the room, and in the center, a three-sided railing overlooked the open area below, where a long staircase descended to the underground levels.
The bar against the left wal was empty, as were the tables and booths. A glance at the grotto on the right side of the chamber, however, stil showed a few bloodwhores who hadn’t escaped yet.
We’d have to be careful around them.
As we spread out, Roman’s children forming two rows of eight in a semicircle in back of us, we could see Terrance ascending the staircase from the underground levels, and behind him, his retinue. One I recognized from our last attack on the Fangtabula. Amazon Bitch was back, only the bodybuilder vamp had gotten rid of the fringed white pants. Now she wore a black catsuit, her muscles rippling beneath the stretch lamé material. But I didn’t recognize the rest of them.
Terrance was a dark vampire—swarthy, with curly hair that grazed the top of his shoulders. He had a sneer that seemed perpetual y ingrained on his face.
“Cease. Give over, Terrance. You can’t win and you know it.” Roman stepped forward. “Blood Wyne sent me.”
“I don’t care what your mama wants. I don’t recognize the power of the Crimson Veil.” Terrance was eyeing Roman cautiously. He was no fool; he knew how old and powerful a vamp he was facing.
Roman let out a slow hiss. “Then you are signing your death warrant.”
“It was signed the day you decided I was a threat. Now, you just have to make good on it.” And Terrance attacked.
He flew toward Roman, a blur of movement, as his henchmen spread out to take on our guards.
