Free Master of the Night by Angela Knight Page B

you’re one of Merlin’s vampires,” Geirolf said, looking up at Reece. “He always was a whimsical bastard.”
    â€œVampires?” Erin interrupted. It was the same line of trash Parker had used. She made herself sneer. “Funny—I didn’t notice any bat wings.”
    Parker sneered back. “You really need to wake up and smell the Bloody Marys, sweetheart. Or hadn’t you noticed the fang marks in your throat?”
    Fang marks? She licked her lips, suddenly aware of the faint ache and pulse in her neck. There was something sticky on her skin, something that felt almost like…
    No. It was whatever they’d used to make her hallucinate all this. There was no such thing as vampires.
    Or demons.
    Suddenly she realized Geirolf was watching her with a fixed and ugly gleam. “Oh,” he said softly, “this is going to be such fun. I’m going to enjoy blowing all your cool little assumptions all to hell and back.”
    â€œWho are you?” Champion demanded impatiently. “What’s this all about?”
    â€œGeirolf here is a con man and a murderer,” Erin told him, glaring at their captors. “He uses drugs to make his victims more susceptible to his parlor tricks, then he gets them to commit his crimes for him. Primarily murder.”
    â€œShe thinks I’m Charles Manson,” Geirolf told Champion, his tone confidential. “I’d be offended if it weren’t so damn funny.”
    â€œI repeat,” Champion said steadily. “What are you?”
    â€œI’d think that would be obvious, vampire. I’m a god.”
    â€œOf course you are,” Champion said, without a flicker of emotion.
    Geirolf sighed and said to Parker, “It’s so sad to be forgotten.”
    â€œI could kill them now if you want,” Parker said, turning a glittering stare on Erin.
    She curled a lip at him despite the chilling hunger in his eyes. Damned if she’d show these assholes fear. No matter what they were.
    â€œNo, boy, they’re perfect.” Geirolf started walking around Champion, looking up at him in calculation. “A Latent and the young vampire who could transform her—all magical potential, yet without enough real power yet to be a pain in my ass.” He grinned. “The perfect blood sacrifice.”
    Â 
    Oh, hell.
    Reece stared at the being who stalked around him. Whatever Geirolf and his flunky were, they weren’t Magekind. And he had an ugly feeling they weren’t mad, either, despite all the babbling about gods and demons.
    But they were powerful as hell, and they worked death magic—using the energy released in a murder as a conduit to Mageverse energies.
    An act strictly forbidden to Magekind.
    â€œWhat sort of spell are we talking about here?” Reece asked, trying to sound as if he didn’t give a damn.
    Geirolf grinned. “You honestly think I’ll tell you?”
    â€œUnless I miss my guess, you feed on terror. Death, too, ofcourse, but definitely terror. So yeah, you’ll tell me, if only to scare the hell out of us.”
    The grin widened. Every tooth in the demon’s head was pointed. “You’re right.”
    â€œSo what exactly does this spell do?”
    â€œKill every last vampire and witch in the Mageverse.”
    Reece stared, feeling all the blood drain from his face. “That’s not possible. Even if you sacrificed us both, the power it would take would be immense.”
    â€œWell, yes,” the demon said, then spread his hands. “But after all, I’m not your average witch.”
    â€œBut why?”
    The thing bared those razor teeth. “You’re in the way.”
    â€œOf what?” Reece demanded.
    â€œOf the rebirth of paradise.” The demon clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the stars. “Or hell, I suppose. Depends on your point of view.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about, you