The force of the blast was relatively small, just enough to blow through the locks on the door. The main purpose of the blast was the smoke that rolled through the opening. Lifting his face cover into place, Winter stole into the building. He moved deftly back and forth between worlds, slaughtering one attacker after another without ever being seen.
More than two dozen vampires and even some humans poured through the first-floor lobby, and more were moving away from the adjacent entrance on Atheneum Square to fight the invaders. Which was just fine. Aiden and Marcus would be bringing in a second wave through that entrance any second now.
Unfortunately, Winter couldn’t wait around to enjoy the ensuing melee. Disappearing once again, he jogged through the building, quickly searching for signs of where Fox might be held or even where Damon was hiding. He wouldn’t attempt to take out Damon until Fox was safe, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t send out a quick text to his brothers about Damon’s location.
He was silent as he moved quickly through the building, passing contemporary art before moving reverse in time to early Chinese and then Renaissance art. The smoke didn’t seem to reach very deep into the connecting buildings, and he hoped they did little damage to the collection of priceless works. As he passed a door leading into the center courtyard, he paused and peered into the darkness, but there were only a few vampires crossing the courtyard to join the fight. Fox wasn’t being held there.
At the next right turn, he found himself passing through a cute little café filled with small tables and chairs. A hint of coffee and bleach hung in the air. He found a few humans huddled together with guns, their backs pressed to the main counter as if they were afraid the Vampire Boogeyman was going to sneak up on them from behind. It was tempting to prove to them that the Boogeyman could get to them no matter what, but he kept going.
Winter hesitated as he entered the final building to find the battle fully engaged. Aiden’s group had made it into the museum and were fighting back Damon’s men. Shouts were mixed with angry snarls and fearful cries. Blood splattered across smooth marble and flecked delicate works of art. The only thing that kept Winter moving was that it looked as if Aiden’s army outnumbered Damon’s.
But there was nothing to be gained by killing Damon’s minions. They had to reach the mastermind and his lieutenants. There was no doubt that Damon would have Paavo or Christopher with him. Winter preferred to see all three vampires slaughtered, but two would be enough to topple Damon’s army.
Fox wasn’t on the first level. The map had shown two more upper levels as well as a theater in the lower level. At the stairs, Winter hesitated, balanced on the balls of his feet, before he finally headed down. If Fox wasn’t in the theater, Winter would be able to quickly backtrack and head to the second floor.
His heart pounded in his chest as he took the stairs as quickly as possible. He needed to find his Fox, but he also needed to join his family in the fight.
As he came off the stairs, he saw only a couple of vampires waiting for him. It gave him hope that his witch was down here if Damon was bothering to keep a few guards on the lower level. With knives clenched in both fists, Winter darted in and out of the world of the dead, slicing up each vampire before they had a chance to react. There was no stopping him. There was no escaping him, but at least he tried to make their deaths quick.
When their bodies cluttered up the floor, Winter stood panting, trying to quiet the screams in his mind. He didn’t want this, didn’t want to be this monster, didn’t want to face Fox covered in the blood of so many dead vampires. Fox was a good, sweet man. He didn’t hurt other people. He didn’t kill. But this was the world Winter was bringing him into.
Fox deserved better.
But first, he deserved to be free.
Shoving away his tangled emotions, Winter approached the double doors that led into the theater. He peered through the small window in the door and his heart stopped. Fox was there, tied to a chair in the center of the stage with a bright spotlight shining on him. Obviously, he was bait. Behind him stood Paavo with a knife pressed to Fox’s slender throat.
Winter didn’t bother to disappear. It was clear he was expected.
Winter pushed open the door and slowly walked along the center aisle. His heart was pounding so hard, he could feel it in the back of his throat. Sweat slicked his palms, adding to the stickiness created by the blood. He yearned to race forward and slice Paavo to ribbons, but he wasn’t faster than the vampire. Fox’s throat would be cut before he even reached him.