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Nick stiffened, a cold terror racing through him. “Who?” he asked carefully, afraid that Serge had spilled Tasha’s blood. That he had staked her, and that she was no more. “Focus,” he said, shaking his friend. “Tell me. Who? Who did you kill?”
“The girl with kaleidoscope eyes,” he said, his smile crooked and his voice singsong. “Came here selling herself. A faunt,” he said, referring to the humans who sold their blood to feed vampires. The word sent relief coursing through Nick. Not Tasha. Thank the gods it wasn’t Tasha.
“Wild hair,” Serge was saying, which meant that this girl wasn’t the one Nick had seen in the tunnel. “Practically pink. Chatty. Liked her, too. Killed her anyway. Didn’t like the rest. Didn’t even know them.”
Nick closed his eyes, trying not to imagine the damage a powerful vampire like Serge could cause. “How many?”
Pain flashed in the haunted red eyes. “Don’t know. Just killed them. Found them, and had them.”
“Fight it back,” Nick said, his body tensed for battle, his words wary. “Kick it back to hell where it belongs.”
“I am in hell,” Serge said.
“There you go,” Nick said, and earned a slow smile from his friend. “That’s it. Come on back. Fight, dammit. Fight.”
“Want to,” he said. “Getting harder every day.” He reached behind him, and from the mess of blood and glass managed to produce a wooden stake. He thrust it at Nick. “Take it. Use it.”
“The hell I will.”
“Dammit, end me.”
“No.” Nick snapped the stake in two. “Listen to me.”
“Son of a bitch. You goddamn, fuck-faced fool.” The serpent was coming out, riding the crest of Serge’s anger. Well, fine, Nick thought. After all of this, he was gunning for a fight anyway.
“Listen to me,” Nick repeated, but he knew Serge wasn’t listening anymore. He was sinking inside himself, and something else was coming up.
Nick wasn’t going to let it get there.
Without warning, he hauled back and punched Serge hard in the gut. His startled friend howled, then pounced, but Nick was ready, leaning back so that he had leverage, and then kicking out and catching Serge hard across the throat with the sole of his foot. Serge staggered back, blood in his eye, and came forward again.
“Enough,” Nick growled, as Serge barreled into him, knocking them both to the ground. “I won’t kill you, no matter how damn much you provoke me.”
“Fuck you, Nicholas.”
“No, fuck you.” And he reached down, grabbed his friend’s naked balls, and twisted.
The effect was pretty much what he’d anticipated. Serge dropped like a stone and clutched his crotch, which gave Nick the opportunity to get back to him, crouch down, and place half the broken stake right at his buddy’s temple. “It won’t kill you,” he said, “but you won’t be the same.”
“Knock my brains out, and at least I won’t know what I’m doing.” The pain that colored Serge’s voice had Nick lowering the weapon.
“You’re back.”
“You twisted my nuts into a knot, damn you. You think the serpent’s gonna hang around for that kind of torture?”
“You clear? Good and clear?”
Serge looked up, met Nick’s eyes, then shook his head no. “But I’m steady. I can fight. I can,” he added, in response to Nick’s doubtful expression. “Dammit all, it’s been building. Growing in me. Taking over. Fucking nightmare. Fucking goddamn life.”
“You should have told us.”
“What? Hey, dudes. Losing myself here. If I fall, don’t piss too hard on me?”
“You should have told us,” Nick repeated.
Serge sighed. “I know.” He ran his fingers through his hair, standing it on end. “Dammit, I know.”
“Where’s Tasha?”
