This time, it was Myrial who sagged, her hand flying to clutch at her sternum as Guthrie collapsed to the ground. Caspian lifted the gun toward Edward, but a cry of rage behind him had the Fae spinning around to meet Albigard’s attack instead. The Fae general’s finger tightened on the trigger, and Albigard’s body twisted as a silver bullet slammed into his shoulder. Caspian pulled the trigger a second time, and a third, but the revolver only clicked, out of ammunition. Throwing it aside, Caspian drew a shortsword just in time to meet the first slash of Albigard’s iron blade.
I looked around at the carnage, realizing I was the only one still able to fight. My hands were covered in my father’s blood. He was alive beneath my grip, gasping weakly for air. With a snarl, Myrial shoved again at Edward’s barrier, which wavered and fell. She lunged forward and jerked the knife from Guthrie’s heart, still clutching her own chest as though it pained her.
That’s right, bitch, I thought, my right hand inching toward the salt dagger at my waist. Revive your most important game piece. It wouldn’t do to lose your vampire blood source when you’re so close to winning the game, now would it?
Coiling my body, I waited until she was focused on Guthrie, leaning over him intently. The instant I heard a faint gasp indicating he was alive again, I sprang.
I had two goals. One—bury my dagger someplace soft and vital. Two—avoid getting skewered through the heart with the silver blade she’d plucked from Guthrie’s chest. Myrial looked up in surprise an instant before I reached her, her great wings mantling behind her in warning. The silver blade lifted, and I used my left forearm to block the sweep of the knife with all my strength.
It wasn’t enough to disarm her. The blade of my salt dagger pierced her right eye at the same time the silver blade slid into my side. The demon’s banshee wail burned my eardrums, but it was nothing to the burn of silver cutting into my flesh.
Pain didn’t matter, though. All that mattered was winning against this creature who saw other living beings as a means to her own ends, and nothing more. I screamed in her face, twisting the salt dagger viciously before wrenching the hilt upward. It hit Myrial’s orbital bone and snapped, leaving the eight-inch blade embedded inside her skull.
She jerked backward, losing her grip on the silver knife buried in my side. I ripped the dagger free of my body with blood-slicked fingers and threw it aside, knowing that I would heal even if the wound did feel like it was literally on fire right now. Rising on shaky legs, I looked down at the succubus as she clawed at her face one-handed. Black ichor streamed from her ruined eye.
Something that most certainly wasn’t a smile stretched my lips into an ugly shape that bared my fangs. Then, just as I was about to call for someone to bring me the chainsaw and a fucking bag of salt, Myrial disappeared—lying there in front of me one moment; teleported away the next.
“No!” I howled. “Fuck!”
I whirled toward Nigellus, but the demon was already wrenching his body upright, wings dragging heavily behind him. With a pained grunt, he lurched toward the place where Myrial had been, vanishing in mid-leap.
Reeling, I looked around wildly. Rans was still lying motionless on the ground. Edward knelt over my father. Guthrie was rolling onto his side, weak and uncoordinated as he recovered from staking himself and then being magically revived. Glowing energy flared across the clearing where Caspian and Albigard still battled.
My mind skittered in a dozen different directions. I’d lost my gun in the moment when Rans fell and I’d nearly followed him into death. Even if I could find it now, I didn’t think I could get a shot off at Caspian without risking the bullet hitting Albigard instead... especially with the way my hands were shaking. I stood midway between Rans and my dad, pulled helplessly in two directions.
Edward glanced up, reading my dilemma. “Miss,” he said gently, “no on can do anything for Ransley until Nigellus returns. But you may be able to help your father.”
My eyes flew to him. “What?” I asked, bewildered. “What can I possibly do for—”
The obvious implication slammed me upside the head like a brick, and I was kneeling next to Dad in a flash.
Idiot, I berated myself. Stupid, useless idiot!
I was a vampire. Vampire blood ran in my veins. Vampire blood healed humans. I could’ve helped my father the instant after he was shot, and it hadn’t even occurred to me to do it because I was a useless fucking idiot.
I ripped Dad’s shirt out of the way, revealing a filthy bullet wound that had obviously perforated his intestines. Not even stopping to think, I tore into my wrist with my fangs and let the blood drip down on the ragged hole. My father cried out weakly, his spine arching in Edward’s grip.
There was no way to tell if the bullet was still inside him. If it was, I didn’t have either the know-how or the emotional fortitude to dig it out. And even if I tried, I wasn’t sure Dad could have survived the additional trauma. Where the hell was Nigellus?
I bit my lip, not even wincing when my fang pierced the skin. The hole in my father’s gut was still pumping out blood. “Why isn’t it working?” I asked desperately.
Edward only shook his head in confusion, his bushy white brows drawn together. My teeth raked across my wrist again, and this time I pressed the fast-healing wound to Dad’s mouth. He tried to turn his head away, but I followed the movement.
“Stop it, you need to swallow this!” I ordered in a shaky voice. “Dad, please!”
He made a pained noise, but some of my blood must have gone down his throat. Unfortunately,
