by Zahra Stone
"Finally," a female voice drawled, and I froze, eyes darting from side to side but seeing nothing.
"Come out!" I ordered, pyre gun held between both hands, scanning, searching for movement.
"Lower your gun first."
Slowly I lowered my gun, aiming it at the floor but keeping a firm grip on it. I'd been caught off guard once; I wasn't about to let it happen again. A woman stepped out from behind one of the massive steel vats. Her flaming red hair gave her away. "The Red Witch, I assume."
"At your service," she replied, stepping forward. I watched her warily. Although I couldn't see or hear anyone else, I knew she wasn't alone. Moments before, she'd been talking to someone. There hadn't been enough time for him to leave, which meant he was here, watching, waiting.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded, glancing around, trying to pinpoint where the other person was.
"Waiting for you." Crossing her arms over her chest, she moved her weight to one leg and eyed me up and down. "It’s come to my attention that we have a mutual goal."
"Oh?" Feeling exposed, I moved toward her, fingers gripping the pyre gun so tight my knuckles shone white. I stopped when my back was to the tank.
"There's a pesky shifter that needs taking care of." She nodded, examining her nails.
"You want the SIA to take care of a shifter problem you're having?" I couldn't believe the gall of her.
She laughed. "Oh, my dear, she's your problem too. You might recognize the name—Ridgeway?"
"You're after Keri Ridgeway?" I scoffed. "What did she do, double-cross you?"
"Oh, we aren't working together." She flicked a piece of invisible lint from her leather pants. "Never have been. But we've been aware of her little experiments for some time now. Really didn't think anything would come of it, to be honest, and who am I to stop a fellow psychopath?"
It was disconcerting to hear her refer to herself as a psychopath, but what had my attention was the fact that she wasn't working with Ridgeway.
She laughed again. "Your face is priceless. And as transparent as glass."
"What the fuck is going on? What are you talking about?" Anger colored my words, anger because while her henchman had caught me off guard outside, now she was catching me off guard with her words.
"I am saying Ridgeway has become a problem, and I want her stopped."
"And?"
"And from what I hear, you want the same thing. I propose we work together."
I made a sound between a snort and a laugh. "You've got to be kidding me. You're on the SIA’s most wanted list. I can't work with you, but I can take you in." I raised my gun and aimed it at her chest, my finger resting on the trigger.
"You Shelton women are such little hellcats," a dark, seductive voice drawled right by my ear. My finger squeezed the trigger in response, and the gun fired. Only the Red Witch was no longer standing in front of me. She was leaning on the vat next to mine, playing with a strand of hair. I slowly turned my head to the man by my side, the one I knew had been in the building somewhere, only I'd had no sense of him. Now I knew who it was, the dark good looks, the porn star mustache, the boots, the long coat, the cowboy hat.
"Gunslinger," I breathed, my breath hitching in my throat when he ran his hand down my arm and gently forced me to lower my gun.
"At your service, sweetheart," he drawled. And then the bastard bit me.
Chapter Fifteen
The bite had been quick but thorough. I'd felt the sting as his fangs had sunk into my artery, the long pull as he consumed my blood. Then he was stepping back, his lips curled in a self-satisfied smirk as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, removing the last remaining trace of my blood.
"That's rude!" Slapping a hand over my bleeding neck, I frowned at him, annoyed beyond belief that these two had gotten the better of me.
He laughed, incensing me further. "Just heal yourself," he said, "although"—he breathed in deeply through his nose—"the smell of your blood is almost as intoxicating as the taste, so on second thought, stand there and bleed, little one."
Pressing my fingers tighter against my neck, I tried to stem the bleeding, feeling the warm wetness as it squeezed between my fingers. Flaming to heal myself was not an option. For one, my clothes would burn, and I sure as hell wasn't going to be running around the Everly Plantation naked, and two, we were standing in a distillery. We'd all go up in flames. I narrowed my eyes, considering that option. Did the Red Witch have the skills to save them both from a massive fireball?
"Tsk." The Red Witch waved her hand at me, and I felt the flesh of my neck knead back together. She'd healed me. "Don't you know anything?" She turned her annoyance on the Gunslinger.
"What?" the Gunslinger drawled, seemingly amused by the whole thing.
"She's a Fire Demon, and we're surrounded by a flammable liquid." I could practically hear the word idiot tacked on the end. My gaze darted between the two of them—they had interesting chemistry. Rae had reported that they had been romantically involved, once, but then he'd trapped her in the cellar after she'd spelled Maxxan to allow vampires to walk in the sun. After Rae and Jordan had accidentally released her, she'd lifted the curse, and she and the Gunslinger had been arguing ever since.
While they bickered, I slowly moved my hand and pressed the silent alarm on my wrist unit. Immediately Brax's voice was in my ear. "On my way." Good, that was good. Despite the Gunslinger’s bite being fast, I was swaying on my feet. He'd drained a lot of blood in a short amount of time, and I was starting to feel the wobbly effects.
"What are you two doing here?" I demanded, drawing their attention back to me. "Last I heard, you hightailed out of here when the SIA busted your drug ring."
The Gunslinger threw back his head and laughed, long and loud, and even the Red Witch had a chuckle.
"Why are you laughing? This isn't funny. I'm serious." This only made the Red Witch laugh more, and irritation had blue electricity sparks running along my skin. My fingers curled into fists as I tried to rein in my power. As much as I'd dearly love to pitch a fireball at her, I was pretty sure the owners of the Everly Plantation would not be pleased with me torching their money-making distillery.
"Caution." The Gunslinger was suddenly in front of me, moving so fast I couldn't track his movements, his hand closing around my clenched fist. "As tempting as it is to barbecue us all, I wouldn't advise it."
I snatched my hand away and stepped sideways, avoiding his touch. The Gunslinger was a handsome man and exuded a charm that was both old-worldly and intoxicating. I was also reasonably sure that he used it to his advantage as often as possible. Still, despite his sparkling blue eyes and engaging smile, I wasn't moved. My pulse didn't accelerate, and I didn't feel the need to bat my lashes at him.
"Interesting." He followed. For each step back I made, he stepped forward until he grew impatient with our game and shot a hand around the nape of my neck to halt my backward trajectory. I filled my lungs with air, held it for several seconds before slowly releasing it, steadying my nerves, giving myself time to think, and time—I hoped—for Brax to reach me.
"What is?" I didn't want to buy into his game, but I did need to buy myself time, and if engaging him in inane banter was the way to do it, then that was precisely what I would do.
"Your essence." He breathed in deeply again, pushed his face against my hair, and I froze. He was a dangerous man, a powerful vampire who'd outsmarted Jordan once; I'd be wise to remember that. "I've tasted it before."
"What?" the Red Witch and I said in unison. I'd never met him in person before; there was no way he could have “tasted” my essence. Whatever that meant.
"Is she the one?" The Red Witch approached with long, slinky strides, hips swaying, her seductive aura filling the air around us. That's when it hit me. It was the two of them together, creating a sensual atmosphere. Not his flirting. They were feeding off each other and emitted something into the air. Cocking my head, I studied them, wondering if they were fated mates. They had t
he classic off-the-charts chemistry that made you think of lust and sex and very little else.
"The one what?" I asked, my patience running out. They talked in riddles, exuded distracting pheromones into the air when all I wanted was answers to my questions. Oh, and for them to surrender, preferably quietly.
"Where's the child?" The Red Witch grabbed my chin, her fingers pinching, and I winced.
"What child?" I was confused. What kid were they talking about? Surely not Abigail? She'd been a baby when she'd died—and how would they even know of her existence? A headache was starting to pound at my temples, and I squinted my eyes while I jerked my chin out of her grip.
Letting me go, she grabbed The Gunslinger’s arm. Clutching at it with both hands, she looked up into his face. "It's her, isn't it?" she breathed, her voice giving away her excitement. "It has to be. She's a fire demon. And a Shelton. She's the one Ridgeway is searching for."
"I am beginning to think you are right," the Gunslinger replied, dropping a kiss on the Red Witch’s nose. She beamed at him, then slapped his ass, the action taking me by surprise and making me jump.
"Freeze! Hands in the air, we've got you surrounded." Brax's shout had me sagging in relief. I watched as he made his way into the distillery, a gun in each hand, Rae and Jordan flanking him, weapons drawn.
"Cavalry's here." The Gunslinger smiled at the Red Witch as they both turned to face Brax, hands raised. This was too easy, I realized. It was like they'd been waiting, toying with me while waiting for the others to arrive.
"Brax," I warned, "I have a feeling this is a trap."
"Smart as well as beautiful," the Gunslinger said.
"Get over here, Katie," Brax ordered. "Are you hurt?" His eyes lingered on the dried blood on my neck, but I shook my head.
"I'm fine."
"He bit you?" As soon as I was within arm’s reach, he lifted his hand to touch the healed skin on my throat. Without giving me a chance to answer, Brax fired. I gasped, swinging around to watch, expecting to see the Gunslinger falling. Instead, he stood with hands-on-hips looking highly amused. The Red Witch had erected a force field around them; I could see it shimmering in the air.
"We only want her." The Red Witch pointed at me. "The rest of you can go, unharmed."
"No deal," Brax spat, shoving me behind him.
"Hey!" I protested, stepping out from behind him. "I can fight my own battles, thank you very much. I don't need you going all alpha male."
"You didn't even have your gun ready," he pointed out. "So clearly, you do need someone looking out for you."
"Guys," Jordan warned.
I ignored him. "You've just seen for yourself how ineffective a weapon is against them," I pointed out, and he had the grace to look at his gun and then back at my face and give a slight nod. We had three fire demons and one dragon against two powerful supernaturals. We could win this. But not in the distillery.
"They lured us here on purpose," I breathed, having a lightbulb moment. "They know we won't risk blowing this place sky high, that we won't use our fire against them."
"Yeah, well, that's where they misjudged us," Jordan spat, "because I don't care about protecting some human’s property. They have insurance. They can rebuild." With that, he transformed into his dragon, and he was as massive as he was magnificent.
"Oh my," the Gunslinger murmured, "now that is impressive."
Jordan extended his wings, and they crashed through the roof, raining debris down on us. Arms over my head, I ran toward a vat and huddled against it, Brax in front of me, shielding me. Rae followed his lead, lighting up her palms with fireballs and tossing them at the Red Witch and Gunslinger. Each hit was weakening the force field surrounding them; each fireball protruded that little bit farther. I saw the worried glance between the two of them. They hadn't been expecting us to fight.
"Come on." I pushed Brax in the back. "Let's get the bastards. Fire!" Running forward, I summoned my fireballs and began hurling them at the shield, Brax by my side. I grinned triumphantly. With the four of us bombarding them with fire, we'd win, I was sure of it.
The next thing I knew, I was underwater, and it was pitch black. Where the hell was I? And where was Brax? I blinked, and my eyes burned as if acid was eating at my eyeballs. I let out a gurgled scream, precious oxygen leeching from my lungs, while I screwed up my eyes to stop any more of the toxic liquid from getting in. Legs kicking, I swam, trying to find the surface, only there was no surface. My fingers met the cold steel of a distillery vat, and that's when I realized the Red Witch had transported me inside. I was inside a tank of rum. There was no air, no light, and very little hope of getting out of here alive. I banged on the ceiling of the vat, felt around for a hatch, or opening of some sort, even an air pocket, but it was sealed tight.
I could hear voices outside, shouting and hands banging at the vat wall. I beat in return. Help! Get me out! My lungs were burning, and I knew I wouldn't be able to hold back from dragging in a lungful of rum at any second. My skin hurt from the alcohol, my limbs struggled with the heavy weight of my clothes, and finally, I gulped in a breath of rum before coughing and choking. Then I was floating, coughs still wracking me as my lungs filled up with the burning rum. Then it didn't burn anymore. I felt lightheaded, and I knew I was dying. I hadn't been expecting to die today, but one thought comforted me—I'd see my baby girl soon. I was on my way. With one last gurgle, I stopped breathing. I'm coming, Abigail; Momma's coming.
Chapter Sixteen
The heat was unrelenting, as were the flames consuming me. I burned from the inside out. Time no longer had meaning, and I wondered if I was in Hell, for this was how I'd imagine it to be, a never-ending fire that consumed your soul, leaving you broken and hollow, never to survive outside the flame, always a prisoner. For eternity.
"Come on, Shelton, snap out of it." I startled at Brax's voice growling in my ear, a distinct note of annoyance in his words. But now I was confused. Brax was in Hell too?
A sharp sting on my cheek had my head snapping back, and my eyes flew open. Brax stood in front of me, ablaze with his flame, hands-on-hips. I raised my hand to my cheek, realized I was flaming too. Healing.
"You hit me!" The sting had been him slapping me. Without even thinking about it, a fireball formed in my hand. No one slapped me and got away with it.
"Settle down. You were out of it. Now you're not. It worked. You're welcome." He recalled his flame and stood naked before me. I didn't look away. Couldn't because he was magnificent in all his natural glory. A surge of lust flooded my system, pounded through my veins with every beat of my heart, sizzled so hot my toes curled. I recalled my flame by reflex and knew he could see me, naked and vulnerable by how his eyes darkened with passion.
Cautiously, as if I might flee, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out until his fingers traced the skin over my shoulder. "You're healed." It wasn't said with wonder or reverence, merely stating a fact. As fire demons, we could set ourselves on fire and heal ourselves. But I hadn't, not ever. I bore the scars of childbirth, the faint stretch marks that I cherished. And the wound on my shoulder from the car accident. The SIA had wanted me to heal, to be fully functional, but I'd refused. My shoulder was good enough. If I flamed, I'd erase the last traces of Abigail. And now that very thing had happened. To survive, to live, I had to flame. Only I didn’t remember doing it. All I remembered was drowning in a vat of rum.
My desire faded as I recalled recent events, and I stepped back, crossing my arms over my chest, hiding my breasts from his view. I couldn't process the fact that my body was perfect, that I'd flamed and decimated my last connection to my daughter, so I focused on the only thing I could.
"Where are they?" I demanded. He knew who I was referring to, of course, for we were still in the distillery. Half the roof was missing, and a vat was raging with a fire that was fast consuming the building. Yet, I had no urge to flee, and I wondered if I was brain damaged from marinating in the alcohol.
"They've gone. Ra
e and Jordan are pursuing them. And now we need to get out of here, the humans are coming, and we don't need to be answering questions as to why we're standing butt naked in their burning distillery."
"But what happened? I died. I didn't flame." I could hear voices now, shouting, and Brax shook his head, shoving me toward the door.
"Move."
I went. He was right. I didn't want to be caught, and I especially didn't want to be caught naked. We dashed outside and ran, keeping to the trees. Our vehicle was near the gates of the Everly Plantation, which was on the other side of the property, which meant a long trek back without being seen. Thankfully, the blazing distillery provided a brilliant distraction, only I felt like crap that we'd set it on fire. I stepped on something sharp and stopped, hobbling to lean on a tree as I pulled a sharp twig from the sole of my foot. Brax stopped and backtracked, leaning on the other side of the tree. In the shadows, I listened to our ragged breathing as we caught our breath.
"The Red Witch teleported you into a vat." Brax's voice was so low I had to strain to hear. "And I figured you probably panicked, inhaled the rum, and were soon incapacitated. Jordan had already shifted into his dragon and totaled the roof. We weren't going to be able to keep our presence secret, so I flamed for you."
"But how did you get to me?" I hadn't been able to get out of the vat. How had he gotten in?
"I opened the hatch, reached in, hauled you out, and flamed. Of course, that created a massive fireball that blew the sides of the vat open, and burning alcohol went everywhere. The distillery is fucked."
I blew out a breath, relishing the rush of air in my lungs, the reminder of rum in my airways an unpleasant memory. "I feel bad about that. Our number one objective is to keep the humans unaware of our presence. We blew up their distillery."
"Jordan is taking care of it." Brax moved, and the leaves beneath his feet crackled, the sound loud in the night air. "He's making it look like a freak windstorm came through. With that wingspan of his, it only took two seconds."