Slowly, Derrick turned, keeping the gun he had behind his back.
Hopefully, she didn’t notice.
“Oh, you could try to shoot me. Even the gunshots here will be heard. And televised. Look.”
Carmela wore black from head to toe and tied her gray-blonde hair back tightly behind her head. Sunken eyes looked even more hollow along with wrinkles and her mouth turned in a frown. The top she wore didn’t quite fit her; in fact, it hung loosely off her flesh. Her eyes rose and her jaw twitched. Again, she shuddered, but narrowed angry eyes at him. The hand she held her gun in shook. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he’d swear her motor skills had worsened overnight.
Behind her, the crowd erupted once again into a frenzy shoving, punching, thrashing to the speed and fury of Ark-KaotiK. Sonja’s head whipped her hair up and down like mad. Her lithe body had so much power onstage that it didn’t matter if she were simply a human, she could easily control the audience.
And she wore his coat.
In the back, a film crew kept cameras trained on the band. Hopefully, Max picked up through Derrick’s earpiece.
“Copy that. One film crew eradicated.”
Derrick didn’t let relief show on his face. Instead, he turned his attention to Carmela. “You’ve been a thorn in my side and the world’s ever since you started hating us. Why do you not embrace who you are?”
The surprise registered in her widening eyes. “How did you know?”
“I’ve always known. It’s been the talk of the town in most of the cigar shops I’ve been in. And some of the bars where only shifters are allowed to hang out. We all wondered why you turned your back on us. You had numerous communities eradicated. You used Nazi tactics to remove those who would support you; you bullied and destroyed families. You betrayed us.” He stepped closer to her and grabbed the gun, then yanked it out of her hands.
Her eyes widened further, her mouth opened. “How could you?”
“How could you?” He pointed the gun at her, glared angrily. “You’re the one calling us all pathetic even though you’re one of us. You’ve got so much blood on your hands.”
The music behind him hit a crescendo. The energy above the crowd grew stronger, angrier. Darker. The clouds above were now so black that they would eat up the light and all the good that came with it.
Lights flashed in time with the kick drum and snare, guitars screamed. Sweat filled his nostrils, a putrid, angry scent.
His mood shifted. No longer concerned with justice, vengeance consumed his thoughts. Dammit!
The trigger taunted him. He could squeeze it and blow her head off completely. He’d have one more body on his hands but this would be a just kill, wouldn’t it? She certainly didn’t hold any remorse for the bodies she’d dropped in her day. Not when those bodies would have willingly helped her cope with whatever was eating at her physical health.
The fury of her actions weighed on him.
Sonja couldn’t deal with his guilt if he purposely killed Carmela.
But she deserved to die.
With the gun barrel pointed straight at her head, he could easily destroy the hate monger before him. He knew from his espionage days that cutting off the head of an organization effectively cut off the group’s power and drive, at least momentarily. That is, until someone else started an offshoot.
“You should die.” He started, stepped closer, and shoved the barrel against her temple.
Her eyes widened but she didn’t show any fear. “Go ahead, pull the trigger. If I can’t eradicate your filth, I’ll choose to die and live in Heaven where God creates nothing but perfection.”
The overwhelming urge to shove the gun in her mouth and pull the trigger sat on his shoulders like a lead weight. He’d do it any other day, but not with Sonja’s presence so close, so wrapped around his soul and heart that doing the wrong thing here, even for the right reason, would not ease anything for him.
Then the screaming onstage stopped. The band had quit playing momentarily to change instruments.
Derrick glanced above Carmela’s head and saw the angry swarm of clouds, energy the others couldn’t see. It mounted higher and higher, growing thick, dark. Blacker than black. This must be the buildup he’d heard about. When he watched Sonja’s first show a few days back he hadn’t seen this. The ominous black cloud took up more area as it grew.
It distracted him just enough for Carmela to land a punch in his chest.
He stumbled back a step but held onto the gun. Then he reached for her and conked her across the head with the butt of the pistol.
She went limp, falling into his arms instantly. He shoved the gun back into hiding, dragged her from the crowd, mouthing something about how much she partied. Then Max spoke in his earpiece. “You got this?”
One problem solved. One more to go. “She’s down, Max.”
“Roger that. Getting her to police medics.” Max’s voice came across loud and clear. “The TV crew has been unplugged.”
“Thank Goddess for small miracles. I nearly killed her.”
“You still might. Your witch is onstage again and has the mic in her hands.”
“Listen up!” Sonja strutted across the stage as though she owned it. Her power and beauty were unmatched in Derrick’s eyes along with her grace in commanding an audience.
She really could lead the entire crowd to their deaths as if they were nothing more than lemmings.
“We’re going to do something different here. We normally play straight through our own shit but this is a special gig. So we’re going back to our roots!”
The crowd’s cheers went wild. “Slayer!”
“Fuck yeah!” She swung an arm back and pointed at Jacob.
Instantly, he kicked on the double-bass drums and started banging away.
The rest of the band joined him and an old Slayer classic came to life through her rapid-fire vocals.
The crowd began moshing again while the circle pit resumed the swarm of chaos.
Overhead, the black cloud swirled around faster, crackling when sparks shot out. Why couldn’t anyone see it?
“Shit.” It registered in Derrick’s mind what she planned. “She still doesn’t know, Max!”
“She didn’t see any of this?”
“We’re pumas who live in the shadows, we do our jobs without being seen, Max.”
“Yup. So, fuck.”
That about summed it up, didn’t it? Derrick looked around, watched the crowd swirl and swarm, bodies surfed and swayed. Fists flew, energy continued to feed upwards from the angry crowd. Panic started to set in and bile rose in his throat. “No man. She loses herself when she’s onstage. That’s part of the beauty of music. But without focus on anything but death. And Slayer had that market cornered. She’s going to use that energy!”
Max shouted. “Get to the stage! Pull her away from that mic! Kiss her if you have to!”
Kissing her would distract her. He’d do it any time, any place. That is, if he could make it to the stage before things went south of heaven.
He sucked in a deep breath, centered himself emotionally, and put up shields that would better block all the negative crap from the crowd.
Pushing his way through the first few rows of bodies didn’t prove to be too difficult, but bodies bouncing off each other in the throng of the pit, humans and shifters slamming into each other. Well-muscled shirtless guys with egos that seemed too big stomped around, waving hands and challenging others to step in the pit with them.
Derrick would be in trouble if he didn’t get around them.
He cut between two kids in their late teens. Someone grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. “Shit!”
Derrick spun on them and had a hand to their throat.
Their eyes went wide; mouths opened, both muttered an apology.
Sonja’s screams brought him back to his senses. Derrick peered up, saw the cloud grow darker in color, as if absolute darkness wasn’t dark enough. Energy continued to crackle overhea
d, increasing with the tempo of the song and the crowd’s movement.
Derrick shoved the offender back, offered a wry grin, and maneuvered his way through the crowd.
Hair flew in all directions, spinning, thrashing while fists and elbows bumped into him and pushed him around.
Gritting his teeth, Derrick held his own and managed to keep his hair from getting caught in some dumb moron’s hands.
He kept a steady focus on Sonja, watching her thrash her blood-red hair as she screamed satanic lyrics written by Slayer’s bass player into the microphone. She ushered the crowd into a furious frenzy.
The sight of her looking through her hair up over the crowd caught his attention.
Her jaw dropped and she almost faltered on the lyric. She saw the cloud. “Dammit!”
Time was running out. Derrick continued pushing through the crowd. He screamed at Sonja but she couldn’t hear him.
The band slowed down, the guitarist to Derrick’s left held a note.
Sonja ran a hand through her hair and started singing again, the lyrics mesmerizing anyone who ever thought about killing someone and becoming addicted to the bloodlust.
The crowd chanted along, fists raised and pumping. Bodies slammed furiously into one another while the mosh pit erupted.
Then the band kicked in behind Sonja.
“Shit.” Derrick was completely boned. This wasn’t what he’d hoped for. At least a media mess would be avoided once the carnage had been cleaned up and Ark-KaotiK could be held blameless for the deaths, they weren’t playing their own material. Right. That didn’t happen, the band was always held responsible.
He realized he had no idea how she was going to manipulate a crowd that size to commit mass suicide.
Then it dawned on him. The lyrics, she’d send a final push of magic into the lyrics written by the band known for themes of murder and suicide along with typical anti-religious themes, and the crowd would explode into a bloodbath of epic proportions. “Max, we’ve got a problem.”
Static came back on the ear mic.
“Fuck, fuck fuck!”
His lover, the woman who bound herself to him, was going to cause mass suicide and he couldn’t stop her.
Not unless he got to that stage in time.
In the stillness of his mind, he saw a thick fog and an answer. The big cat’s eyes glowed brightly, and while they looked menacing, hope seemed less out of reach.
Derrick had one chance. One shot. He only needed to get within fifteen feet of the stage.
She belted out lyrics about the loss of innocence with her eyes closed. The power had built so badly around the crowd that it’d take just one thought to send them all to their deaths. Using hearts and the ability to stop the flow of blood would kill everyone instantly.
It’d be painful but Carmela would have her fucking massacre.
She put extra emphasis on the last words in each line, using the power of language and spell craft to weave meaning into the electrically charged current flowing from her to the black cloud.
Sickness in her stomach settled into full-blown panic as she neared the last few lines of the chorus. She sank to her knees and continued to sing, hoping there would be a way out at the last minute. She prayed to numerous gods in her head, even the moon and sun that watched over her power and Rob’s, with the hope that in the end, something would happen to stop this massacre she had no desire to be a part of.
Maybe the crowd wouldn’t notice her purposely botching the lyrics to sway their thoughts.
She swooned back and forth while that blackness came to her, surrounded her, gripped her with fear, and made the rush of a kill seem logical.
The song tempo sped.
The drums raced, Corey’s right hand beat double time on the high hat while his left pounded the snare drum at half the speed.
Dez and Raj played faster and faster.
Sonja couldn’t see past the thick cloud before her. Hair had fallen in her face, stuck to her skin from all the sweat. She continued to sing while praying her voice would go out.
Then it hit her, she could burn out her vocal chords on the last line, send everyone to their deaths and then…
Never sing again.
Hell, she couldn’t, not if she killed her mate.
Tears dripped down her cheeks as she forced herself to stand and continue the words of one of the most psychotic songs about addiction to murder.
That is, until her eyes misled her. She blinked through the tears, moved strands of hair from her face, and held the mic to her lips.
She blinked and blinked again. Even startled, she hadn’t stopped singing.
The large puma had leapt from the shoulders of someone in the crowd and landed onstage before her. It stood, looming large and predatory, then paced back and forth across the stage.
For a second, she felt the fear she should naturally have when a large creature like that stood before her, then she looked past the beast at the crowd.
The crowd continued to sing and mosh while some held out camera phones and snapped, clicked, and recorded the event.
The calmness Derrick always instilled in her returned, settling around her like a warm blanket and a cup of hot cocoa.
Her puma, her mate, had come to save her.
It’s over.
Sonja understood and wiped tears from her eyes. She looked over her shoulders and let the band play while the crowd continued to sing.
The song ended several seconds later with Dez holding the high note reserved for Sonja’s final scream.
Derrick pawed the stage and darted off through the band and out of sight.
Relief filled her heart and washed through her, cleansing the blood that had started to build on her hands. Tranquility settled in her mind and raced through her, calming the sickness in her stomach.
She paused, looked back at the band, saw understanding and relief pass over them. She ran her hands over her head and pulled sweaty strands of dark hair back from her face. “That was fun, eh?”
The crowd cheered again.
Sonja stood taller, pranced back and forth, and looked at her band. “We’re going to do some old shit as a closeout.”
More cheers rang out.
If she did this right, she could dissipate that black cloud and reuse the magic.
The band played harder, faster, and then slowed things down for Sonja to pick up her pace on the magic front. It took a lot longer but she pulled back the malicious energy she’d stirred up earlier, taking it into her person so she could wash it, cleanse it, send it back out into the audience and give them what she knew to be of use.
The crowd responded in kind.
From the corner of her eye, she saw that the guards had been replaced by real security. Must have been Derrick’s doing.
She sang on, pulling more despair and doubt from the crowd while absorbing it into herself along with the guilt of what she’d almost been forced to do.
She hated to be in this position but society needed her for more than just her music. Derrick would have to accept that. She had a feeling he’d be okay with it all, as long as they could be together and attempt some sort of relationship, though she had no idea how it’d work. She’d just have to have faith in him—in them.
She loved the stage, the shows, the crowds, and especially the rush of energy that came from them once she emptied all their doubt and left them with instinct and self-trust.
An hour later, the band finally walked offstage.
All but Sonja. She crawled off in a dramatic movement fit for a death metal band. As she neared the edge of the stage, she saw a pair of boots and smelled the forest, light hints of cigar, and cat. The lights went off; the crowd disappeared with much less weight on their shoulders, ready for the next big show.
She smelled it heavily. Jungle cat.
Derrick.
Her puma.
She stood.
“It’s time to go back home,” he whispered and kissed her mouth, nipping at her lower li
p before claiming all of her.
She threw her arms around him and murmured into the kiss. “Yes. Back home.” The emotional damage could cling a little longer, he’d filter it out. She’d let him take it, make it clean through their love.
She had to show Derrick her gratitude and that it came from her heart.
Sonja broke from the kiss, felt exhaustion settle in around her shoulders like a heavy brick. She swayed.
He held her steadily in his arms against his massive chest, and she’d never been as grateful for someone to be in her life as she was now.
His erection pressed against her.
Sweat-soaked and tired, she grew damp between her thighs.
“Goddess, I love you, Sonja. I was so worried.”
“Me, too. I love you, Derrick.” She managed to get the words out before swaying in his arms. Dizziness set in and the world became blackness.
* * *
Back in her bed, Derrick lay beside her and stroked her hair.
She held a single, pleasant memory when they returned to California. He’d stripped her, bathed her gently, and took all the pain and negative energy from her.
She still didn’t have her wits about her until today. “How long have I been out?”
“A week.”
She sighed. “It was pretty brutal.”
“I can imagine. I kept thinking…” He ran fingers down her bare arms and over her ribcage. “I had no idea how to stop you or get word to you that we’d captured Carmela.”
She snuggled closer. “You and Max did it.”
“I had no choice. I was going after my mate to prevent her from further suffering. And to protect our baby.”
She gasped. “Our—” Recognition dawned on her. She put a hand to her stomach, sensing rather than feeling the puma’s knowing gaze. “I’m pregnant.”
He nodded, worry clearly etched in his eyes. “Max scented it first, said I was too distracted and too close to you to notice until he made it a point to mention it.”
“I see.” She closed her eyes, letting the idea of motherhood settle around her for a moment. How would she deal with it? How would it affect her band? They’d surely want to support her after everything they’d been through together. “What about the threats on my life?”
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