For Savannah, dancing was the complete opposite of all that. Instead of having to push toward or through something, she was letting go of everything. As she moved, she set herself free, allowing her body to do what came naturally. When she danced was when she stopped fighting.
And in that short moment as I forgot who I was and simply enjoyed Savannah's experience up on that stage with her, I learned how to stop fighting, too.
And then my skin exploded with the stabbings of a million tiny unseen needles a second before the entire city was rocked by a series of rumblings, first in the distance, then closer and closer toward the opera house.
CHAPTER 12
Savannah gasped and froze for less than half a second. I was already running down the aisle toward her when she leaped off the stage and met me halfway. Caravass, Michael and the dancers joined us as we all ran up the aisle toward the exit then skidded to a stop in the foyer as the street beyond the glass doors erupted in a geyser of fire. Sirens began to wail throughout the city, and several of the dancers behind us hissed in alarm and took a few steps back.
"What is this?" Caravass asked Michael.
"The Clann," I muttered as Savannah's hand darted to the back of her neck and her gaze collided with mine. "I think they've found your headquarters."
Caravass turned round, icy white eyes toward me.
I held up my free hand in surrender. "No way. I swear we had nothing to do with this."
Savannah thrust out her wrist. "Take our blood as proof. The blood memories will show you. We didn't lead them here or tell them anything about this place."
She was right. The council leader might not be able to read our minds, but he could still read the memories in our blood. I stuck my own wrist out beside hers.
Caravass hesitated, then faster than our eyes could even track, his hand darted out and reappeared at his mouth as two thin slices welled with blood across Savannah's and my wrists. Even as Caravass tasted our blood and read our most recent memories, the cuts began to heal. I had to tear my focus away from the amazing healing process in order to follow his thoughts.
He nodded, his eyes narrowing. "It is as you say."
"It's got to be Mr. Williams," I said. "He must have called an emergency vote already."
"But how could he have set this attack up so fast?" Savannah said, turning to look at the f lames still roaring a good ten feet up into the air. Smoke was quickly filling the street and darkening the skies above. "And how did he know where the headquarters were?"
"He had to have already sent a team to get into position before the vote," Michael said.
"It is what I might have done if I were him," Caravass said.
"If the Clann's here, we need to leave," I told him, bracing for who knew what he might say in return. Would he demand we stay and fight at his side?
He stared at me with narrowed eyes then sighed. "I suppose it is too soon to ask you to join us in this war?"
War, Savannah gasped silently. Oh, God. It's really happening.
I shook my head. "I can't. If Williams has declared war, then we've got to get back to the States to my sister and her mother. They'll be in danger, too."
Caravass scowled. "Fine. Michael, I trust you will remain at their sides at all times?" Silently he added, To ensure they do not act against us at least?
Michael nodded. "Of course. I will call you with any news I have. Will you f lee the city?"
Caravass shook his head, his jawline hardening. "I must try to find any surviving council members so we can discuss our next move. If this Williams truly demands a war, then who are we to refuse him?"
We all pushed through the revolving doors, coughing as soon as we exited the building and the smoke slammed our faces and lungs with the smell of a thousand unknown things on fire. The sirens were a hundred times louder out here, forcing Savannah and me to let go of each other's hand so we could cover our too-sensitive ears before the sound could drive us to our knees.
Michael vamp blurred around the car still parked at the curb, getting into the front passenger seat while Savannah and I dived into the back. Caravass shouted directions to the driver as we slammed the doors shut.
Then we were careening on a madhouse ride through the city's streets, every one of them ablaze with shooting f lames from both the streets' many access points into the maze of sewers and underground tunnels that seemed to match the city's layout of streets exactly. We didn't get too far, however, before traffic jams brought us to a halt.
"We must make a run for it from here," Michael shouted over the wailing sirens and shouting humans as he opened his door. To the driver he said, "Make sure the pilot knows we are on our way so he can ready for immediate takeoff."
The driver nodded.
Savannah gave me one last round-eyed look of terror, then we jumped out of the car on opposite sides and started running, struggling to keep her father in sight as we used every bit of vamp speed available to hide our passage through the city on foot. Mr. Williams's attack team had to still be in the city somewhere. The last thing we needed was for them to spot us before we could get out of Paris.
Finally Michael led us back to the airport and onto the jet. None of us dared sigh with relief until we were actually in the air, though, especially since both Michael and the pilot had to do some serious negotiating to get the locked-down airport to allow us to take off. We were lucky the vamp council apparently knew somebody working in the control tower today.
As the jet circled the city, all three of us stared out the nearest windows at the city below. The City of Lights and Love was filled with a whole new kind of light now, one that f lickered and did its best to devour every building and body in its path.
And the States were probably next.
SAVANNAH
It was a really, really long f light back. And not just because we were worried about another war starting, or getting back to Mom and Emily and hopefully finding them as safe and sound as we'd left them.
It was because Tristan spent the entire return trip planning different ways to get close enough to Mr. Williams to make him pay for Mrs. Coleman's murder.
Worse, he didn't just want justice for his mother's death. He wanted to see Mr. Williams tortured slowly first, then kill him with his own bare hands. And possibly his fangs, too.
At first, I tried to remember that Tristan was still grieving for his mother, dealing with the shock from her death, and anger was probably part of that process. Anyone would be furious and heartbroken.