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A second shadow jumped him, and the weight of the damn thing plus the stinging sensation that went all the way through him were so great an overload that he went down on his knees.

And that was when shit went GOAT fuck on him.

He had to lose his guns. As he was rolled and pummeled, he didn’t know which way was up, much less where his fellow fighters were. Unable to keep things straight, he couldn’t risk killing anyone on his side.

Dropping the autoloaders, he switched to daggers, jabbing his hands into his jacket and outing his silver-bladed slicers. With practiced skill, he swiped at anything he came in contact with, and the defense was good enough to earn him some space. Except it never lasted. The entities were relentless. They were winning.

His energy was flagging.

An image of Erika on her bed dying gave him a brief second wind, turning those daggers into an extension of his arms, of his body, of his will. But as the punches and kicks kept coming at him, the rally didn’t last.

Just as his head rang like a bell from him being thrown into the ground like a toy they wanted to break, at the very moment his consciousness started to ebb, as hope departed him and strength went along with it—

A wraith-like apparition appeared before him.

Dressed in black leather.

With a hand-rolled Turkish cigarette clenched between bright white teeth.

“V?” Balz mumbled as he stared up in confusion.

What was he doing here? Was this was a figment of his imagination—

The Brother didn’t get out a gun. No daggers either. As he exhaled a plume of smoke, he ripped off that lead-lined glove of his.

Annnnnd that, folks, was all she wrote.

Vishous took that nuclear-bright hand of his and he wielded it like a motherfucker, slapping the two shadows that had taken Balz to the ground like the entities misbehaved and it was the Middle Ages.

As the tables were turned and Balz’s attackers had to go on the defensive, he scrambled to his feet. Located his guns. Reloaded—

Poppppp! Poppppp!

Andjustlikethat the pair of shadows were gone.

Balz jumped up to the Brother, and grabbed the male’s leather jacket. “What are you doing here!”

“She’s still alive,” V said as they both panted. “But Sahvage triggered the emergency code so I had to come.”

Balz dragged the Brother in for a quick, hard embrace. And as he hugged back, V muttered, “You’re welcome.”

They pulled apart, and Balz said, “I have to go—”

“I’ll join the fray.” V cracked his knuckles. “But we might need a miracle. This is bad.”

They both glanced down at the hall. It was a melee of hand to hand, the Brothers and the bastards engaging with the—

All at once, the shadows disappeared.

Sure as if they had been called off by their maker, the vampire warriors went from fighting tangible foes to kicking, punching, and stabbing at thin air. As they tripped, fell, slammed into the floor and the walls, the battle was over as quickly as it had started.

“What the fuck?” someone said.

“Where the hell—”

“—did they all—”

“—fucking go?”

It was the same snippets of conversation from each one of them, the males remaining braced with their daggers and their fists, their fighting stances unchallenged by any enemy.

Hard breathing was the only sound. No more screeching.

Until a door opened.

Balz pivoted toward the portal. And he knew who was coming out before he even saw her.

“Devina,” he growled.

The demon walked out into the corridor, a red dress hugging her curves, a string of pearls around her neck, her heels so high that she was as tall as he was. With her hair swept up on top of her head and diamonds sparkling on her earlobes, she was Julia Roberts, Pretty Woman’ing it off to the opera, so classy, so elegant.

The fucking cunt.

“Give me the Book,” Balz demanded as he pointed a gun at her. “Give me the fucking Book!”

She didn’t seem to hear him. And that was when he realized she was translucent, like a hologram. Even if he’d tried to shoot her, the bullets were going to go right through.

She did pause as she came up to him. “It’s gone.” Her voice was distracted and her dazed eyes stared past him. “I don’t know who took the Book, but it can’t leave on its own. So someone got in there and walked out with it.”

And then she just kept going.

Balz lunged for her, but when he tried to grab her arm, he just snatched at air. There was no substance to the demon at all.

“What about Erika!” he yelled. “You get the fuck out of her—”

Devina glanced over her shoulder. “It’s too late. Sorry. Oops.”

As she resumed walking, he started to go after her—but V locked a grip on him and hauled him back. “No, you let her go. Let. Her. Go. We’ll find Lassiter. Lassiter will help us—”


Tags: J.R. Ward Black Dagger Brotherhood Fantasy