Vail kept up alongside Victoria’s horse as she galloped from the manor past each barricade the Saints had erected to stop the Wynters. The animal’s long strides allowed it to cover ground quickly, but he managed not to fall behind. The task of matching a stallion’s gait would have been straining if he hadn’t had a taste of Lady Crest’s blood that day, but since he’d fed so recently, he wasn’t even out of breath by the time they finally slowed to a stop.
Halting beside her steed, he swept his gaze over the surrounding buildings to keep watch for any other vampires. According to the Saints’ information, the Wynters shouldn’t have gotten this far yet, but it never hurt to be cautious. Besides that, he wanted to make sure there were no bystanders from the other clans in London. They were going to be using Victoria’s blood as bait, so the entire plan could fall apart if she was attacked by someone who didn’t belong to the Wynter clan before their actual targets grew close enough to trap.
Fortunately, the only people that he could see and smell in the area were the humans in a nearby pub. The rest of the streets were clear, so he turned to Victoria and nodded at her announcement that she was going to draw her blood. As soon as she opened her neck and began to coat herself in the scarlet liquid that flowed out, he felt his heartbeat quicken, and he shivered. The scent was as powerful as ever, and despite having already fed that same day, he had to force himself to stand still while she combed her bloodstained fingers through her hair. If this didn’t make the Wynters lose their focus, nothing would.
“Nothing yet…” he murmured, dragging his wrist across the corner of his mouth where some of the excess saliva had escaped his mouth. He narrowed his eyes slightly, scanning the dark streets. His sense of smell alerted him faster than his vision, and he tensed at the odor of another vampire in the area—actually, more than one. The Wynters were close, and they were traveling in a group. In the next moment, he caught sight of a flicker of movement in a nearby alley. “Now!” he hollered, pivoting on his heel to run with her back toward the barricade, where the first wave of their Frankenstein army was waiting to fight.
--
Katherine had been in her bedroom when Mikael had entered the Hygrace manor. Unlike her husband, however, she had heeded Vail’s warning and prepared to defend her family by feeding on humans daily in the city. So, when she heard Peter’s scream, she ran downstairs as quickly as her legs would carry her and began ushering the other Hygraces to get ready to fight back. The scent of an unfamiliar vampire on their territory combined with the outcry of their leader was enough to rile up her nieces and nephews, and they all grabbed whatever makeshift weapons they could find to fend off the Wynter. To her dismay though, it wasn’t enough.
Despite their best efforts, Mikael cut down every Hygrace he came across, until the few that remained had no other choice but to flee the manor if they wanted to live. Katherine retreated to her bedroom upstairs, panicked but unwilling to run as long as Peter was still alive and breathing. She couldn’t leave him behind, and her loyalty led her to trap herself when the Wynter entered the room to finish her off. She stood with her back pressed against the wall and a fire iron in her hand as a last defense, bracing herself for the inevitable sting of the vampire’s silver-lined blade. But it didn’t come.
In the time between Mikael severing his leg and the minutes it took the Wynter to slaughter most of his family, Peter had made his way upstairs to look for a way to fight back as well. Using a cane to hold himself upright, he had hobbled toward his room, only to stop in the hallway when a faint scent had reached his nose: Crest blood. He had turned away from his door to go to Vail’s bedroom instead, where he had found the bottle of Victoria’s blood that sat untouched on the heir’s bedside table. There had been more than enough to give him the strength he needed to take Mikael on, whether he was crippled or not.
So, just as the Wynter had raised his sword to slay the Hygrace leader’s wife, Peter had lunged at him from behind, grappling for the blade with his fangs bared in a twisted snarl. They scrapped for a while, more evenly matched now that Lord Hygrace had taken the same drug as his opponent, but eventually, Peter managed to wrestle the brand away from Mikael and held it out warningly. “Get out of my territory,” he hissed, leaning against the post of his bed to stay upright. His cane had fallen to the floor when he’d first attacked the Wynter.
In spite of his less than ideal condition, there was a darkness in his eyes that told the other vampire that he would kill him without hesitation of he tried to continue the fight.
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