Book 8 - Chapter 31 (1/2)

Murdoch and Nikolai entered Erol's - a ramshackle bayou tavern that catered solely to Loreans - with Sebastian due to meet them any minute.

A contact had told Nikolai that Conrad was within this bar on this very night, and had been returning here repeatedly.

As if to draw his brothers out.

In the past, Conrad had wanted to kill Murdoch and Nikolai, had hated them for turning him, even more than Sebastian had. Did Conrad still want to? They'd soon see.

Murdoch scanned the interior of the dimly-lit tavern -

He's... here. ”In the back,” he muttered to Nikolai. Conrad sat at a table in the shadows, clasping his head as if it pounded. Our brother. Just here. After so long.

”He's wearing sungla.s.ses?” Nikolai muttered back.

To hide his red eyes? Christ, don't let it be.

Conrad must've sensed them. He lowered his hand and raised his head to face them. At once, he drew his lips back, baring his fangs menacingly.

A standoff. Patrons noticed the sudden tension and fell silent. One look at Conrad and they exited in a hurry. The place emptied, right down to the bartender.

Quiet reigned. Murdoch said nothing, dumbstruck to see his brother after all this time, to find him alive. Nikolai was speechless as well.

Sebastian entered then, his countenance grave. He crossed to his brothers, standing with them in a united front.

Murdoch gave Sebastian a quick nod, gratified once again that he'd allied with them. The first time in centuries the four of us have been in the same room.

Conrad drew down his sungla.s.ses, revealing eyes as red as blood. Murdoch's lips parted, and Sebastian muttered a curse. Nikolai winced, but he squared his shoulders, and the three strode forward -

With uncanny speed, Conrad lunged from his seat. In one astonis.h.i.+ng move, he vaulted over the table at them and struck Sebastian with a skull-cracking blow, sending him hurtling into a wall.

Before Murdoch and Nikolai could react, Conrad s.n.a.t.c.hed them by their throats, one in each hand as they fought to free themselves.

”Three hundred years of this,” Conrad hissed, his red eyes blazing with hate.

Then all h.e.l.l broke loose.

Pace forward... and back. Sit. Carve on tablet for huffish moments. Rise and repeat -

The phone rang. Danii dove for it, answering in a rush, ”Murdoch, is that you?”

”We have Conrad,” he said, his voice rough. ”He's... Fallen.”

”Oh, Murdoch, I'm so sorry.” Danii's heart hurt for him. She knew how much Murdoch cared for his brother, how devastating this was to him.

”He was an a.s.sa.s.sin, but he drank all of his hundreds, or even thousands, of victims. He took all their memories - and their strength.”

”Is he crazed?” she asked, though she knew the answer.